Hi troops, found this from the sister site. Already feel a bit relieved to find this place. I've done 3 tours of Afghan, been suffering various symptoms since 2008/2009 (my fiance has suffered from me as well) but things really went downhill quickly in 2010 after a bad tour. Finally went to my Sgt Major for help a few months ago and was diagnosed with Chronic Adjustment Disorder and depression.
My marriage councillor who is a psychiatrist thinks I may have been misdiagnosed because I didnt disclose my flashbacks at the time and keeps referring to my dramas as PTSD but this is not my diagnosis. I wouldnt say they are flashbacks personally I just go over certain things a lot in my head, particularly at night. Due to start EMDR next week, am on Quitiapine and Citalopram just now as well which I feel just takes the edge off the rages and racing thoughts,I will get about 6 hours sleep at least 5 days a week and I no longer get anxiety issues in public and can just about hold a five minute conversation with other people. Downgraded at work (I'm an FSG gunner in an Infantry battalion) so I can't deploy and am basically a spare part at the moment. I've recently got back into martial arts full time, and started reading and it seems to fill the time when I'm not any use at work and also makes me feel better. I write a lot of poetry/random ramblings about Afghan events, a bit obsessively at night, but won't allow my fiance or anyone else to read any of it and so I've got 3 shoeboxes full of bits of paper, and I've also burned a lot of it when I've had a bad day which freaks my Mrs out. I dont know if thats normal?
I got a book called "heroes" which is a collection of modern poems written by British troops for xmas, but I can't read it, some random words just set me off and I get a bit sweaty and or teary. All my collegues know I'm seeing DCMH as I've been open about it with everyone, and I know a few other lads who are going there, but I don't have anyone to discuss anything with apart from the CPN, so I hope am in the right place, particularly because the past few days have been a proper effort to even look at my fiance and my 2 year old daughter without losing my temper, I just want to be left alone an not have to speak to anyone or listen to anyone, but I know it's selfish and that I have to make the effort to get into a routine with them. I also miss Afghan a lot and would much rather be there than here. So it completely contradicts the problems I'm having which stem from my 2nd tour.
Thought as you lot are all strangers I'd just add tonights ramblings as I wont be getting any sleep tonight anyway lol.
19 november 2009
"Oh J it’s a girl", how excited she sounds. On the phone I’m just speechless, as my eyes dig the ground. I should be there with her, holding her hand on this day, but instead I’m in Afghan, with a big op on the way. Send me some eblueys, I want to see those big eyes, I have to go now M, it’s work, please don’t cry.
In my heart I know that I’m in the wrong place, this isnt the right time to be out here, I should be at home with my new baby girl, and with my M who waits in fear.
My lads need me here on the gun, we can’t afford one less bloke on the ground. And I wouldn’t want to miss out on our first firefight, I’d never live that down. I have RnR soon anyway. Nothing will happen to me, it’s fine, I’ll double check the guns oiled to f*ck just now, then get my head down until it’s time.
The morning goes smoothly, the villagers ask us to hide, they fear the visitors they’ll have that night. The dickers are on the hill, threatening us on the radio, I watch them with bloodlust through my sight.
Another influence op finished, no contact yet for us, lets just get back to the PB. I’ve just put the kettle on, an preped Boss’ mug, I’ll look in a minute what he’s having for Tea.
This doesn’t feel right, these fields are empty, are those our tracks from yesterday? That’s a stream ahead , this aint right, I feel something strange, maybe I should say.
f*ck it, it’s fine, those dickers are quiet, and I can’t be arsed getting wet in this shite. Across the stream we go, clenching my eyes, my whole body tenses up tight.
Relief, we made it, no damage done, I was proper flapping back there. FLASH,BOOM,BUZZ,DUST, I’m thrown over my gun as a jackal wheel flies past my head in the air. Shit we’ve hit an IED, can you hear me? Please answer, LADS don’t drive here we’re hit. The dust starts to settle, just silence around us, our wagon is fine, oh no,shit.
I look behind us and see the shadow of S, stood back looking at me shacking in shock, his machine gun now laying at his feet in bits. Then the screaming from W as he cries out to us “I’m f*cked lads, please help me, it hurts, my legs, f*ck, I’m hit” Silence from P as he just lays there, eyes open, “I just saw the sky” he says over again. I look down at Si, “lets go”, “I’m fine mate, your fine, lets do this” the young lad says, and together slowly we climb out.
It feels like hours as we search a path upto the wrecked jackal in fear. My pistols in one hand, waiting for anyone, fighter or civvy to show his face here. We move through the stream, now running with blood, bits of metal are everywhere. I give up the checking and just walk straight to S, the scene like my worst nightmare. He is so calm, the shock has a firm hold, but he cracks on, the team medic writing out all his stats. I crack on with triage, the training kicks in, I stem W’s bleeding quite fast. He has both his legs, his feet both have large holes now stuffed with gauze, and one leg is the wrong way round, do I turn it back or just leave it? f*ck knows they didn’t show me this on the course, so I just light up a Ciggy and put it to my mates lips, and he smiles at me, in pure morphine bliss. The Infantry lads turn up, and take over the SOP’s, while we concentrate on our best friends. Words of comfort, the piss up, the compo, it all seems so hollow in the end. The Heli lands safely, we take the casualties aboard, and it’s then that the adrenaline subsides. I go back to my wagon, pour oil on the gun and get ready for a long sleepless night. We overwatch the downed wagon, unable to move incase we set off another device. The EOD’s en route, we hand out the brews and prepare for the most haunting night of our lives.
A few hours later, the enemy get brave, and RPG’s land on us from our right. I traverse my machine gun, Si does the spotting for me and I open up on a bloke who’s off on a red motorbike. The rider throws his launcher, and tries to flee but my bullets are heavy and my aim is sound. First he falls off the bike his right arm and shoulder gone, then he gets up again and runs,I hold down my trigger one last time, and a red burst of colour fills the air as his body is thrown to the ground..
My first kill of this tour, it feels so bittersweet to this day when I start thinking it over. I knew that IED was there, if I had only raised my voice, that day could have ended different for my brothers. My best mate wouldn’t have lost both of his legs, the other wouldn’t have been in a wheelchair. I wouldn’t carry around this guilt, and I wouldn’t look in the mirror with despair.
I’ve been back to Afghan since, a lot more blood on my hands, though thankfully not that of my friends. I’ve come to accept that you must trust yourself more, and admit when you were wrong in the end. I’m still fighting a battle in my head and my heart, like so many warriors have for centuries past. I’m not the first soldier to struggle with the past, and I certainly won’t be the last.
For whatever reason, our wagon didn’t hit it, to this day I’m grateful to both Simon and God. It was the 19th November in 2009 and it was the day after my daughter was born.
Anyway glad to be here guys/lassies, I hope you had a good Christmas.
J
My marriage councillor who is a psychiatrist thinks I may have been misdiagnosed because I didnt disclose my flashbacks at the time and keeps referring to my dramas as PTSD but this is not my diagnosis. I wouldnt say they are flashbacks personally I just go over certain things a lot in my head, particularly at night. Due to start EMDR next week, am on Quitiapine and Citalopram just now as well which I feel just takes the edge off the rages and racing thoughts,I will get about 6 hours sleep at least 5 days a week and I no longer get anxiety issues in public and can just about hold a five minute conversation with other people. Downgraded at work (I'm an FSG gunner in an Infantry battalion) so I can't deploy and am basically a spare part at the moment. I've recently got back into martial arts full time, and started reading and it seems to fill the time when I'm not any use at work and also makes me feel better. I write a lot of poetry/random ramblings about Afghan events, a bit obsessively at night, but won't allow my fiance or anyone else to read any of it and so I've got 3 shoeboxes full of bits of paper, and I've also burned a lot of it when I've had a bad day which freaks my Mrs out. I dont know if thats normal?
I got a book called "heroes" which is a collection of modern poems written by British troops for xmas, but I can't read it, some random words just set me off and I get a bit sweaty and or teary. All my collegues know I'm seeing DCMH as I've been open about it with everyone, and I know a few other lads who are going there, but I don't have anyone to discuss anything with apart from the CPN, so I hope am in the right place, particularly because the past few days have been a proper effort to even look at my fiance and my 2 year old daughter without losing my temper, I just want to be left alone an not have to speak to anyone or listen to anyone, but I know it's selfish and that I have to make the effort to get into a routine with them. I also miss Afghan a lot and would much rather be there than here. So it completely contradicts the problems I'm having which stem from my 2nd tour.
Thought as you lot are all strangers I'd just add tonights ramblings as I wont be getting any sleep tonight anyway lol.
19 november 2009
"Oh J it’s a girl", how excited she sounds. On the phone I’m just speechless, as my eyes dig the ground. I should be there with her, holding her hand on this day, but instead I’m in Afghan, with a big op on the way. Send me some eblueys, I want to see those big eyes, I have to go now M, it’s work, please don’t cry.
In my heart I know that I’m in the wrong place, this isnt the right time to be out here, I should be at home with my new baby girl, and with my M who waits in fear.
My lads need me here on the gun, we can’t afford one less bloke on the ground. And I wouldn’t want to miss out on our first firefight, I’d never live that down. I have RnR soon anyway. Nothing will happen to me, it’s fine, I’ll double check the guns oiled to f*ck just now, then get my head down until it’s time.
The morning goes smoothly, the villagers ask us to hide, they fear the visitors they’ll have that night. The dickers are on the hill, threatening us on the radio, I watch them with bloodlust through my sight.
Another influence op finished, no contact yet for us, lets just get back to the PB. I’ve just put the kettle on, an preped Boss’ mug, I’ll look in a minute what he’s having for Tea.
This doesn’t feel right, these fields are empty, are those our tracks from yesterday? That’s a stream ahead , this aint right, I feel something strange, maybe I should say.
f*ck it, it’s fine, those dickers are quiet, and I can’t be arsed getting wet in this shite. Across the stream we go, clenching my eyes, my whole body tenses up tight.
Relief, we made it, no damage done, I was proper flapping back there. FLASH,BOOM,BUZZ,DUST, I’m thrown over my gun as a jackal wheel flies past my head in the air. Shit we’ve hit an IED, can you hear me? Please answer, LADS don’t drive here we’re hit. The dust starts to settle, just silence around us, our wagon is fine, oh no,shit.
I look behind us and see the shadow of S, stood back looking at me shacking in shock, his machine gun now laying at his feet in bits. Then the screaming from W as he cries out to us “I’m f*cked lads, please help me, it hurts, my legs, f*ck, I’m hit” Silence from P as he just lays there, eyes open, “I just saw the sky” he says over again. I look down at Si, “lets go”, “I’m fine mate, your fine, lets do this” the young lad says, and together slowly we climb out.
It feels like hours as we search a path upto the wrecked jackal in fear. My pistols in one hand, waiting for anyone, fighter or civvy to show his face here. We move through the stream, now running with blood, bits of metal are everywhere. I give up the checking and just walk straight to S, the scene like my worst nightmare. He is so calm, the shock has a firm hold, but he cracks on, the team medic writing out all his stats. I crack on with triage, the training kicks in, I stem W’s bleeding quite fast. He has both his legs, his feet both have large holes now stuffed with gauze, and one leg is the wrong way round, do I turn it back or just leave it? f*ck knows they didn’t show me this on the course, so I just light up a Ciggy and put it to my mates lips, and he smiles at me, in pure morphine bliss. The Infantry lads turn up, and take over the SOP’s, while we concentrate on our best friends. Words of comfort, the piss up, the compo, it all seems so hollow in the end. The Heli lands safely, we take the casualties aboard, and it’s then that the adrenaline subsides. I go back to my wagon, pour oil on the gun and get ready for a long sleepless night. We overwatch the downed wagon, unable to move incase we set off another device. The EOD’s en route, we hand out the brews and prepare for the most haunting night of our lives.
A few hours later, the enemy get brave, and RPG’s land on us from our right. I traverse my machine gun, Si does the spotting for me and I open up on a bloke who’s off on a red motorbike. The rider throws his launcher, and tries to flee but my bullets are heavy and my aim is sound. First he falls off the bike his right arm and shoulder gone, then he gets up again and runs,I hold down my trigger one last time, and a red burst of colour fills the air as his body is thrown to the ground..
My first kill of this tour, it feels so bittersweet to this day when I start thinking it over. I knew that IED was there, if I had only raised my voice, that day could have ended different for my brothers. My best mate wouldn’t have lost both of his legs, the other wouldn’t have been in a wheelchair. I wouldn’t carry around this guilt, and I wouldn’t look in the mirror with despair.
I’ve been back to Afghan since, a lot more blood on my hands, though thankfully not that of my friends. I’ve come to accept that you must trust yourself more, and admit when you were wrong in the end. I’m still fighting a battle in my head and my heart, like so many warriors have for centuries past. I’m not the first soldier to struggle with the past, and I certainly won’t be the last.
For whatever reason, our wagon didn’t hit it, to this day I’m grateful to both Simon and God. It was the 19th November in 2009 and it was the day after my daughter was born.
Anyway glad to be here guys/lassies, I hope you had a good Christmas.
J