A few days ago I was chatting with one of my OSUT battle buddies who is currently in Afghanistan with the 2ID. I hadn’t spoken to him since graduating, but thanks to the technology of Facebook we were able to reconnect--even at that great distance.

We chatted briefly--due to a itinerant internet connection. I had heard that the 2ID was getting hit hard, but also knew that some platoons were being hit harder than others. When I asked about his unit he told me that they had been pretty beat up. In fact, the day we chatted, his platoon had been attacked on their way back from picking him up from his patrol.

About a fifth of our graduating class from C 5/15 had been assigned to 2ID, so I was curious to know if there were any casualties from our former troop. I was relieved to learn that we had none. Then I asked if he had lost any of his battle buddies from his new troop. He told me that two of his close friends in the unit were gone.

I told him that it sucked and that it must be pretty tough. He said, “yeah.”

Earlier this year, the cycle that I graduated with from C 5/15 experienced its first casualty. A guy that we called “Permanent Party” (due to his being recycled), died while playing with his personal sidearm under the influence of alcohol. I do not know if it was intentional suicide or not, but I do know that it was a tragedy.

For those of us that spent time with him during OSUT, he was a fun, intelligent, and kind person. This turn of events was a surprise for most of us.

Our first encounter happened a couple of days after he had been recycled into our troop from his, which, was set to graduate in three weeks. We still had at least a three months to go. He and I had an argument about something stupid and I verbally lit into him. I think that we both left the conflict unsatisfied with the outcome--each thinking that the other was an arrogant jerk. Eventually, though, we became friends.

We would joke about other soldiers, our drill sergeants, each other, and whatever else came to mind. We weren’t best friends, but we respected each other and usually had a good laugh when together.  I’ll always remember his goofy grin, the BCGs that we both hated, but had to wear, and the mischievous twinkle he usually had in his eyes.

Not all of our conversations were filled with humor. I know that his lady had left him while he was training at Ft. Knox. I know life had been difficult, but, it was difficult for everyone.

The last time I chatted with him, he was a bit depressed. Because it had been months since we'd last had a real heart to heart, we didn’t really get into it much. The next thing I heard of him was that he was gone.

His loss was a wake up call to me.

Often you hear that beyond the wire, in the heat of battle, a soldier isn’t necessarily fighting for country or ideology, but to make sure that he and the man on his left and on his right make it back home. These are his brothers at arms, the guys he trusts with his life.

When it comes to physical danger, we are relatively proficient at taking care of one another. When it comes to emotional and psychological well being, it is–difficult. How do you set a perimeter around a broken heart, a depressed mind, or a shellshocked soul?

We are not trained therapists that can effectively deal with another person’s hidden fears and demons. But, I would posit that we don’t need training to help our battle buddies.

Like in the very real battles faced in combat, we are the front lines for these internal issues. We have worked closely together and we know what makes each other tick. We know when our teammates behavior is out of the ordinary and often know how to bring them back to reality.

Sometimes things are beyond what a good friendship can resolve. That is when we need to have the courage to help them get the assistance they need by encouraging them to talk with an NCO, CO, or Chaplain.

If you are the one stuck, understand that it is normal to struggle with the atrocities that we see in combat. Death in war is never pretty. The very act of taking another’s life goes contrary to most peoples’ mores. To see women and children die make it more difficult. And, loosing a friend in battle is a very personal loss. If you cannot figure out how to move on by yourself, talk to your friends, a Chaplain or CO. Get the help you need.

Consider that taking care of these issues as maintenance on your most valuable tool of the trade–you.

I mourn the loss of “Permanent Party’s” life. I wish I had asked him the hard questions. I know that I am not responsible for his choices, but the problem with suicide is that it leaves those behind wondering what they could have done to forestall or prevent it. I would give anything to have him back in this life, laughing and talking with him.

Some of you will want to comfort me and assure me that there was nothing I could do. You are right. I’m not concerned about that now.

There are now 129 soldiers that I trained with and the rest of the military service men and women that are out there working to protect this country. It is my hope that you will read this and look out for those with whom you serve–as will I.