“Hi. Who were you with?” I asked, unable to place his face.
“I am Hussein. I was General Volesky’s translator.”
God forgive me, but my heart began to race with suspicion. Did he have a bomb? Was he going to sell me out? I slapped my runaway imagination and combat-fueled prejudice. I spoke at length with him about Sadr City and how his life had been after. He had been forced to leave for fear of his safety and now worked at Fort Leavenworth. The more I spoke with him the more embarrassed I felt about fearing this man.
His son was no more than five and bashful. I spoke with the child using all of the Arabic I could remember. In my mind, I couldn’t help but see in him the little Iraqi boy whose foot I had once doctored. He would be a young man now. Did he grow up to hate me for my kindness?
Later, I sat in a fold-up chair holding a red, long-stemmed, thorny rose in my hand and watched the new generation of 2nd of the Fifth Cavalry Regiment soldiers approach the 1st Cavalry Division memorial in perfect lockstep. They are dressed in their best uniforms and look magnificent, young, and proud. Over 400 former Black Knights stand across from them like a mirror to the past, huddled with their families under a cold, steel-gray sky.
Lieutenant (P) York takes the podium wearing his dress uniform and black Stetson hat. Given the events of recent days, I can’t imagine what’s going through his mind. He reads from his speech with an emotion-laded voice that trembles like his hands. He gives the audience a brief rundown of what happened ten years ago and tells everyone how proud his is to call them brothers. I try but fail to hold back tears as he closes with the old motto, “Shoot ʼem in the face.” The thing about unbottling your emotions is that they often won’t fit when you try to put them back.
A couple of the Gold Star family members, those who had lost loved ones in combat, stood to talk about the sacrifice made by the fallen. The names of the honored dead are read. A bugler plays “Taps.” The mournful notes once again make my eyes leak.
At long last, Clay Spicer, former XO for Charlie Company, concludes the ceremony and invites everyone forward to pay their respects. A young soldier hands out a strip of white paper and a bar of graphite to make a rubbing of whatever name we choose. Everyone does. The line is long and moves slow. No one complains.
As I approach the marble wall carved with the names of the men who died while attempting to rescue me, I begin to see more and more of my old comrades. Some have put on weight, like me; others have grown long hair and beards; a few have weathered better, though the age lies hard around their eyes. One by one we join with each other, hug each other, and laugh. The laughter comes unbidden and seems more appropriate in that hallowed place than tears. We reminisce and ask about each other’s lives.
Joe Thompson’s marriage is struggling, but he is optimistic about the future. He was accepted at Texas A&M to pursue his degree.
Aaron Fowler has a regularly recurring role in the hit TV series Revolution. He dotes on his young daughter and has taught her to shoot well. He asks me how to get an Alligator tag in Louisiana so she can kill one. I laugh and say I don’t know.
I see Puppet, good ol’ Rafael Arteaga, and rush through the crowd to hug his neck. He limps a little and smiles a lot. He introduces me to his wife and children. The former juvenile delinquent works as a loss-prevention specialist for Home Depot.
Shane Coleman commissioned as an infantry lieutenant and married a fellow officer. He is the only one of us who hasn’t changed a bit. He gives me Jermaine Tyrell’s number, who was unable to attend. I promptly text him to question his manhood.
Justin Bellamy was there with his wife and young daughter. Still in a baby stroller, she tried to hand me her rose.
Jon Denney introduced me to his family beaming that infectious smile the whole time. He had spent many years with Comanche company after it was re-designated as Bravo Company under the new force structure. He actually went back to Iraq with them, a grizzled NCO able to say to his green soldiers, “You call this an ambush?”
Eric Bourquin still towers over me. He spent last summer after he left the service hiking the Appalachian Trail to raise awareness for PTSD. He came back looking like a mountain man with long hair and a beard. He and Fowler joke about buying land close by in order to start their own cult. At least I think it’s a joke.
Ben Hayhurst stands next to Eric and sports an even longer beard. But he’s smiling broadly. I ask him how he’s doing and he answers, “I’m coming back, roomie. More and more every day.” He tells me how glad he is that he came and how good it is to be around people who get it. Once he said that I suddenly realized that I was completely surrounded by people and yet felt, for the first time in ten years, completely relaxed.
So many soldiers gathered to remember and reconnect and yet not all that could attend were here. Some were simply not able to handle the emotional load and had opted to stay home. How well I recognized that fear.
I found the one guy I had been missing on the outside of group. The guy who had faked his orders so he could return to Afghanistan after being wounded. The warrior who still patrolled his land every day with a loaded M4 just so he could feel normal. Carl Wild toted a back pack and wore an olive drab jacket—1st CAV patch on the right shoulder—against the cold. His companion was a service dog, still a puppy, which was drawing more attention than Wild seemed comfortable with. He still did not like crowds. I spoke with him a while and rode the bus with him to the luncheon at the new 2/5 CAV headquarters. As everyone unloaded, he asked if the driver would take him back to his car off-post. The excitement was getting the better of him.
“Carl, before you go, would you mind taking a picture with me?” I asked.
He agreed and climbed down so my wife could snap a photo. After he turned quickly to get on the bus. I called to him again and he turned slowly, eager to escape.
“I never had a brother until I fought with you,” I said.
He shook my hand and threw the other arm around my neck. “I love you, man,” he said.
I watched him get onto the bus with a lump in my throat, not really knowing what to say. As I watched him go, I reflected on everything that I had tried in the last ten years to reclaim who I was. Hours of counseling with therapists and chaplains, drugs to help me feel happy, drugs to numb my anger, drugs to sharpen my concentration, drugs to help me sleep, Emotion Replacement Therapy, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, biofeedback, and on and on. Normal was out of the question, but I felt that there was at least the prospect of peace. Peace and maybe something more. It was out there. I felt it. It seemed that all of us there were feeling it. You could tell in their smiles, Ben’s laughter, Carl’s arm around my neck like a lifeline. Maybe if healing was out there for us, we would be the ones to find it, stumbling toward wholeness arm in arm with that man to the right and left. My brothers.
Lancer Legacy Ranch provides a new life for veterans with PTSD
Plans for a self-sufficient community and therapy center
By Alex Meachum, KTAL News, 10 November 2015
Driving outside of Mt. Pleasant down the long, gravel County Road 4315 in Cookville, Texas is where former members of the military are creating a self-sufficient community for fellow veterans suffering with PTSD to live and recover.
The Lancer Legacy Ranch grew from an idea to a cooperative effort by a group of platoon members who fought alongside one another in Iraq and Afghanistan experiencing the most intense combat situations including sustaining injuries during an ambush attack.
Retired US Sergeant and now Operations Manager for the ranch, Carl Wild, said when he came back from overseas, he didn’t feel like the same person, even adjusting to basic parts of life was difficult.
“I had a lot of trouble adapting. I came home and didn’t feel the way I used to feel. I was angry a lot, upset a lot and didn’t feel comfortable in normal situations. I couldn’t deal with crowds. I just wasn’t the same person I used to be,” Wild said.
Wild, along w
ith Retired US Army Sergeant and Captain Matt Fisk, say PTSD feels unshakeable and hopeless at times. They suffered and dealt with its symptoms for years. The only difference came when they reunited with members from their platoon. As though it gave them a sense of normalcy again. Forming a unit again gave them a calmer, more comfortable sense of attitude.
“We noticed after being apart for so long and being around our friends again we felt like our old self,” Wild said.
It made them want to do something. They joked about living out on a commune together but after time passed and the symptoms of PTSD persisted Fisk thought it was actually a good idea. With help from his fellow veterans along with his wife Lisa, they embarked on establishing a livable, sustainable plot of land where veterans could recover together.
“We had each other’s backs in combat and we have each other’s backs now,” said director, Fisk.
Still in the early stages, they’ve spent the last half of this year working to make their own sources of water and power, constructing temporary homes with plans for permanent ones, and growing crops and raising livestock.
“To be able to feed and care for ourselves and 25 veterans on this ranch at all times,” Fisk said.
Feelings of wanting to be isolated is strong once back from combat, Fisk said. They understand it because they lived it he says and hopes his dreams for the development of the Lancer Legacy Ranch will ultimately help other veterans adjust back into life at a quiet pace. Away from busy cities, crowds of people, and the daily pressures of society in general, Wild said it can provide an alternative lifestyle for people seeking something more than what they’ve been offered so far.
“Instead of sitting in doctors’ offices and doing therapy and having prescription medications thrown at you, there’s other ways you can find to cope,” Wild said.
They will also focus on peer-to-peer therapy where veterans can work, live, and recover together. Several veterans have stayed on the ranch so far and Fisk’s wife, Lisa says she has noticed the impact it’s had on them.
“Just talking to the ones who have been out here, I’ve seen a change,” Lisa Fisk said.
She said it wasn’t easy at first but she acts as the “mom of the ranch” along with already being a mom to their newborn baby.
“I do the cooking and cleaning, you know those things men don’t always do themselves,” Lisa said.
She said she wanted to support her husband, but sees the kind of change they can have in people’s lives.
“Well it hasn’t been easy but I just want him to be well and be happy so I’m here for him and anyone else who needs me,” Lisa said.
They say PTSD can feel like a losing battle, but there is hope. Wild believes he is an advocate of how the idea will work.
“It’s greatly helped me. I’m not the same person I was a year ago. I’m more outgoing, I’m more talkative, I feel comfortable around strangers, I can do groups. I’m just a completely different person altogether. I feel confident that it helped me adjust back to society,” Wild said.
They say there will be work catered to physical and mental capacity of each individual and with each new building, plant or cattle it will give them mental relief to be working purposely again.
“Perhaps you’ve reached a point in your live where you feel it’s never going to get better, I will never recover, I’m a completely broken individual. I would just tell you that’s false. We’ve seen it, we’ve lived it and done it. There’s hope for you. There’s people who understand your struggle and your journey,” Fisk said.
They offer the ranch to any veteran seeking help and will provide them access to programs where they can learn about how to live off the land. They have a partnership with other organizations in the region that teach farming and outdoor living skills. Fisk said he believes they can make an impact into the epidemic of PTSD and appreciates all the support he has received so far from the community and the county.
If you would like to learn about what they can offer you can visit their website: www.lancerlegacyranch.com.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank my wife Lisa for a life time of friendship and the daily encouragement necessary to complete this work.
I’m grateful to my parents for giving me the confidence that comes from being loved.
Erin Celello, author extraordinaire, was an excellent mentor and coach to a guy that wanted to tell a story.
To the men of Charlie Company, 2-5 CAV, who always had my six: thank you, brothers.
And most of all, I thank God who was with me in the alley, who kept my feet from slipping and delivered me from a host of ten thousand.
About the Author
Matt Fisk was born in DeQueen, Arkansas and entered the Army in 1997. He served 8 years in the infantry as an enlisted soldier before crossing to the dark side for another 8 years as an officer in the logistics corps. He has a degree in criminal justice though he is not currently involved in either the criminal nor justice systems. Matt spends his days in east Texas developing a self-sufficient homestead with his childhood sweetheart and their lovely baby girl. And 10 goats. And two horses. And 11 bobwhite quail. And about 20 gazillion chickens. And a bad dog. And three disdainful cats, excellent examples of their species.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
Copyright © 2016 by J. Matthew Fisk
Cover art copyright © 2016 by Gerry Kissell (gerrykissell.com)
“Lancer Legacy Ranch provides a new life for veterans with PTSD” used by permission of Alex Meachum, KTAL News.
Martha Raddatz gave permission for use of her discussion of her book, The Long Road Home.
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