KINGSTON—In the fall of 2009, Lt.-Col. Rob Martin was a veteran of two tours in Afghanistan, a senior leader in the Canadian military and an utterly broken man.
Twenty-five Canadian soldiers died during the officer’s 2008-09 tour in Kandahar, where his job was to study, track and help combat the Taliban using scraps of gathered intelligence and electronic signals. Each death was an emotional blow.
Once at home, Martin became emotionally numb toward his wife and three young children.
As deputy commander of the military unit responsible for intelligence, communications and electronic warfare, he was spending upwards of 16 hours a day at work, yet basic tasks — preparing a budget or writing strategic reports — felt like impossible assignments.
Over the course of six weeks, he shed 30 pounds and the soldier’s uniform — once worn by a tall, lean and physically fit man — now hung off a bony frame.
His mind also started to wander during his hour-long commutes to work in Ottawa. It settled on a death fantasy. “When I was driving back and forth to work I started to look at the front ends of dump trucks,” he said. “I would think, ‘It would just take a little swerve. That could be it.’”
Martin held tight to his steering wheel and instead sought out psychological help. Since then he has lost his family, his career and his identity, but he has been able to beat the terrible temptation to take his life.
That is what should make Martin, 52, a model for many of his comrades in the Canadian Forces.
The military releases statistics only on the number of suicides at the end of each year. The number of incidents over the last decade ranges from a low of 10 in 2005 and 2006 to a high of 17 in 2009.
But sources have told the Toronto Star that at least three Canadian soldiers have taken their lives in the last six weeks. At least two coincided with the 10th anniversary of the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks.
One of those was the Sept. 12 death of a Kingston-based warrant officer with 23 years of service. He completed four tours of duty since 2002, including a 2009 deployment detecting and dismantling improvised explosive devices in Afghanistan with the military’s bomb squad.
Another was a young corporal with the Royal Canadian Dragoons who killed himself Sept. 4 in his military quarters at CFB Petawawa following a 2010 deployment to Kandahar.
The deaths provide a stark backdrop to a call in the House of Commons this week for the government to develop a national suicide prevention strategy, during which it was revealed that, as of June, some 14,300 veterans were being treated for mental health conditions.
And while the number of soldiers maimed and killed by roadside bombs has effectively stopped with the end of combat operations in Kandahar this summer, the military expects the number of soldiers with wounded minds to rise for years to come, making mental health and suicide prevention efforts a priority in the Canadian Forces.
“I’m not sure if the worst is past, but I think we’re ready for the worst,” said Commodore Hans Jung, the Canadian Forces Surgeon General.
A clearer picture of the mental health impact of war will come in a few months with the release of a study that will reveal for the first time how soldiers who have served in Afghanistan have gone on to develop post-traumatic stress disorder.
Those figures will be based on the actual diagnoses of doctors over a four-year period. Previous statistics have been the result of informed guesswork based on surveys that ask soldiers to report any post-deployment symptoms.
Since April 2010, the force has also been conducting a forensic pathology — interviews, reviews of medical histories — in each instance where a Canadian soldier takes his or her life.
The goal is to see if the military missed any signs or symptoms that could have prevented the deaths as well as to keep on top of any trends related to overseas deployments, gender or to see if the military suicide rate is on par with the rate for civilians, which Jung maintains is the case.
Jung says the studies also stem from the agony he remembers as a physician at Canadian bases in Winnipeg, Esquimalt, B.C., and Germany.
“Whenever there was a suicide on the base, all the doctors, literally our heart would skip a beat. We all asked, ‘Did I miss something? Could I have done anything?’ That hasn’t changed for me.”
The unofficial result of Jung’s suicide study is that most of those who took their own lives did so impulsively.
“There were no clear indications or even subtle indications that this is a risk we should have picked up,” he said.
Experts say the context of suicide within the base or regimental networks that make up the Canadian Forces matters more than the actual figures. And the simple fact that most soldiers personally know someone who has committed suicide is extremely worrying, said Alice Aiken, director of the Canadian Institute for Military and Veteran Health Research at Queen’s University.
“Are there more or less suicides? I don’t know,” said Aiken, who is retired from the military and married to a serving soldier. “What’s different is that this guy (a soldier who has committed suicide) worked in an area with a group of people that is closer than any civilian can understand and he committed suicide and his friends saw that.
“Obviously how he reacted to his workplace is not how a civilian reacts to it.”
The other worry is an entire class of soldier has fallen out of sight of the military’s number crunchers, presenting the biggest liability for the Canadian Forces.
During the fiercest fighting in Kandahar, one in every five soldiers — between 300 and 500 depending on the size of the deployment — was a reservist, or a part-time soldier. If they choose to slip back into the civilian population after their time at war, the military has no way to keep track of their physical or psychological well-being, said Brig.-Gen. Jay Milne, the force’s director general of reserves and cadets.
Already there are worrying signs reservists are falling through the cracks. Based on the 20 per cent ratio of reserve-to-regular-force soldiers that have been sent to Afghanistan, Milne said it’s reasonable to assume the figures would hold for the numbers killed in action, wounded in action, and for the number of PTSD and suicide cases as well.
But that ratio hasn’t held up. The numbers they do have suggest the military is losing track of soldiers, he told senior officers at a recent gathering in Ottawa to discuss military health care.
“Just looking at those numbers … you can see that either reservists are more robust and don’t feel psychological trauma, or we’re not tracking them,” he said.
Lt.-Col. Martin was on the military’s radar when he sought medical help. His commanding officer was supportive and his staff took up his workload. Still, he withdrew from colleagues, family, friends and the tight-knit military community he had called home for 34 years.
“Your friends are still there, but you don’t necessarily see it when you’re in the deepest part of your depression, considering suicide,” he said.
The doctor’s diagnosis of depression in December 2009 was a relief for Martin.
“I thought, ‘Thank God it’s not me,’” he said. “‘This is a mental illness that I have no control over. Now how do I stay alive?’”
He survived on a mix of medication and therapy, which enabled him to attend the funeral of his warrant officer friend who took his own life in Kingston. There, he saw first-hand the nightmare that engulfs those who are left behind when someone takes their own life. It also strengthened his resolve to stay alive.
“We’re all about relationships and when you think about suicide, all of your relationships are gone,” he said. “You’re perception is that you have none left. But you do. You absolutely do.”
Origin
Source: Toronto Star
Twenty-five Canadian soldiers died during the officer’s 2008-09 tour in Kandahar, where his job was to study, track and help combat the Taliban using scraps of gathered intelligence and electronic signals. Each death was an emotional blow.
Once at home, Martin became emotionally numb toward his wife and three young children.
As deputy commander of the military unit responsible for intelligence, communications and electronic warfare, he was spending upwards of 16 hours a day at work, yet basic tasks — preparing a budget or writing strategic reports — felt like impossible assignments.
Over the course of six weeks, he shed 30 pounds and the soldier’s uniform — once worn by a tall, lean and physically fit man — now hung off a bony frame.
His mind also started to wander during his hour-long commutes to work in Ottawa. It settled on a death fantasy. “When I was driving back and forth to work I started to look at the front ends of dump trucks,” he said. “I would think, ‘It would just take a little swerve. That could be it.’”
Martin held tight to his steering wheel and instead sought out psychological help. Since then he has lost his family, his career and his identity, but he has been able to beat the terrible temptation to take his life.
That is what should make Martin, 52, a model for many of his comrades in the Canadian Forces.
The military releases statistics only on the number of suicides at the end of each year. The number of incidents over the last decade ranges from a low of 10 in 2005 and 2006 to a high of 17 in 2009.
But sources have told the Toronto Star that at least three Canadian soldiers have taken their lives in the last six weeks. At least two coincided with the 10th anniversary of the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks.
One of those was the Sept. 12 death of a Kingston-based warrant officer with 23 years of service. He completed four tours of duty since 2002, including a 2009 deployment detecting and dismantling improvised explosive devices in Afghanistan with the military’s bomb squad.
Another was a young corporal with the Royal Canadian Dragoons who killed himself Sept. 4 in his military quarters at CFB Petawawa following a 2010 deployment to Kandahar.
The deaths provide a stark backdrop to a call in the House of Commons this week for the government to develop a national suicide prevention strategy, during which it was revealed that, as of June, some 14,300 veterans were being treated for mental health conditions.
And while the number of soldiers maimed and killed by roadside bombs has effectively stopped with the end of combat operations in Kandahar this summer, the military expects the number of soldiers with wounded minds to rise for years to come, making mental health and suicide prevention efforts a priority in the Canadian Forces.
“I’m not sure if the worst is past, but I think we’re ready for the worst,” said Commodore Hans Jung, the Canadian Forces Surgeon General.
A clearer picture of the mental health impact of war will come in a few months with the release of a study that will reveal for the first time how soldiers who have served in Afghanistan have gone on to develop post-traumatic stress disorder.
Those figures will be based on the actual diagnoses of doctors over a four-year period. Previous statistics have been the result of informed guesswork based on surveys that ask soldiers to report any post-deployment symptoms.
Since April 2010, the force has also been conducting a forensic pathology — interviews, reviews of medical histories — in each instance where a Canadian soldier takes his or her life.
The goal is to see if the military missed any signs or symptoms that could have prevented the deaths as well as to keep on top of any trends related to overseas deployments, gender or to see if the military suicide rate is on par with the rate for civilians, which Jung maintains is the case.
Jung says the studies also stem from the agony he remembers as a physician at Canadian bases in Winnipeg, Esquimalt, B.C., and Germany.
“Whenever there was a suicide on the base, all the doctors, literally our heart would skip a beat. We all asked, ‘Did I miss something? Could I have done anything?’ That hasn’t changed for me.”
The unofficial result of Jung’s suicide study is that most of those who took their own lives did so impulsively.
“There were no clear indications or even subtle indications that this is a risk we should have picked up,” he said.
Experts say the context of suicide within the base or regimental networks that make up the Canadian Forces matters more than the actual figures. And the simple fact that most soldiers personally know someone who has committed suicide is extremely worrying, said Alice Aiken, director of the Canadian Institute for Military and Veteran Health Research at Queen’s University.
“Are there more or less suicides? I don’t know,” said Aiken, who is retired from the military and married to a serving soldier. “What’s different is that this guy (a soldier who has committed suicide) worked in an area with a group of people that is closer than any civilian can understand and he committed suicide and his friends saw that.
“Obviously how he reacted to his workplace is not how a civilian reacts to it.”
The other worry is an entire class of soldier has fallen out of sight of the military’s number crunchers, presenting the biggest liability for the Canadian Forces.
During the fiercest fighting in Kandahar, one in every five soldiers — between 300 and 500 depending on the size of the deployment — was a reservist, or a part-time soldier. If they choose to slip back into the civilian population after their time at war, the military has no way to keep track of their physical or psychological well-being, said Brig.-Gen. Jay Milne, the force’s director general of reserves and cadets.
Already there are worrying signs reservists are falling through the cracks. Based on the 20 per cent ratio of reserve-to-regular-force soldiers that have been sent to Afghanistan, Milne said it’s reasonable to assume the figures would hold for the numbers killed in action, wounded in action, and for the number of PTSD and suicide cases as well.
But that ratio hasn’t held up. The numbers they do have suggest the military is losing track of soldiers, he told senior officers at a recent gathering in Ottawa to discuss military health care.
“Just looking at those numbers … you can see that either reservists are more robust and don’t feel psychological trauma, or we’re not tracking them,” he said.
Lt.-Col. Martin was on the military’s radar when he sought medical help. His commanding officer was supportive and his staff took up his workload. Still, he withdrew from colleagues, family, friends and the tight-knit military community he had called home for 34 years.
“Your friends are still there, but you don’t necessarily see it when you’re in the deepest part of your depression, considering suicide,” he said.
The doctor’s diagnosis of depression in December 2009 was a relief for Martin.
“I thought, ‘Thank God it’s not me,’” he said. “‘This is a mental illness that I have no control over. Now how do I stay alive?’”
He survived on a mix of medication and therapy, which enabled him to attend the funeral of his warrant officer friend who took his own life in Kingston. There, he saw first-hand the nightmare that engulfs those who are left behind when someone takes their own life. It also strengthened his resolve to stay alive.
“We’re all about relationships and when you think about suicide, all of your relationships are gone,” he said. “You’re perception is that you have none left. But you do. You absolutely do.”
Origin
Source: Toronto Star
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