The Broken Soldier

My condition leaves little choice in activity. Sleep. Write. Lay down. Walk to the bathroom. Shower. Every few weeks maybe get out of the house for more than an hour. I have a lot of time alone to think. Today I got the thinking about a buddy of mine at White Sands Missile Range, Ritchie.

Ritchie was a bit older than the usual military man. He had one enlistment active Navy and he had three more four year commitments to the Navy Reserves under his belt. He wasn’t exactly sure about the reasons we were at war, but felt it was important to win. He thought he could help. He went back to the military, assuming that because he’d done very well in the Navy he had a chance of doing well in the Army too. In these ways Ritchie and I were very much alike.

I met Ritchie in Physical Therapy and Rehabilitation Platoon (PTRP). At the time I wasn’t very seriously injured, just really ill. Ritchie was seriously injured. He had hurt his back during field training. Cadre, the instructors appointed over him, thought he was faking it to get out of doing PT and whatever else. As punishment they forced Ritchie to fill sand bags all day. He injured himself worse.

The Army put him on narcotic pain medications, sent him to physical therapy, and basically left him in PTRP for over a year. In that time Ritchie became addicted to the pain medication he was taking. For most of that year Ritchie had been given 90+ pills each month unmonitored by cadre or medical personnel. Ritchie begged to be sent to rehab. He was denied. He was sure if he didn’t he would have died. I don’t doubt that for a minute. Ritchie later went AWOL to get drug rehab for Percocet addiction.

Ritchie was given an Article 15 for his ‘crimes.’ Last I talked to him he was facing a less than honorable discharge. His body broken, addicted to prescription drugs, and completely unable to perform his old job (air conditioning/heating repair) he was to be put out of the Army with nothing.

I haven’t heard from Ritchie in almost 10 months. I wrote him some letters, but didn’t hear back from him. For all I know Ritchie was put out on the street. Maybe he was sent to prison. Maybe he died of an overdose. Maybe he took his own life - as he talked about doing many times during our short but intense friendship.  What I can be sure of is that Ritchie, like so many of us, was treated unjustly by the Army. Use em up and thrown them away. Another broken promise. Another broken patriot. Another broken soldier.