By Michael R. Duesterhaus

When I was approached to write about the care of our wounded warriors, I had in mind an article about resources, organizations, and materials for those in need.

Upon further reflection I decided that these points can, and will, be made by many other people.

What I would like to offer is the reflections of one priest who has served as a chaplain to Marines, sailors, soldiers, airmen, National Guardsmen, foreign military, and civilians who have served in combat during this past decade.

There are many clinicians who can diagnose and parse conditions of those suffering from the negative effects of being in combat.

I am not one of those.

Rather, I am the pastor who cares for the individual and hopefully assists them in going forward. I refer to medical and clinical staff when necessary, but it is my major contention that few combat veterans need medical assistance. All veterans of combat need support and how they find that support is critical as we continue our ongoing operations around the world to combat those who threaten our nation, our livelihood, and our liberty.

Combat and its aftermath can cause trauma. Trauma has always existed in the human condition, and sadly in the modern era it has been horrific on a scale that our ancestors could hardly imagine. But being in a war zone and engaging in combat is not always traumatic. Demanding, yes, but not always a negative outcome.

People should not equate serving in uniform, then deploying overseas, and then being in a war as automatically creating a debilitating situation. So many misunderstandings about the veterans from Vietnam, coupled with only a small fraction of the population ever serving in any capacity in the military, has led to a false assumption that everyone who goes to war ends up mentally or spiritually wounded. This is not so.

We combat veterans are definitely changed by our experience. Most of us treasure life much more now. We truly appreciate time with our family and friends. A good warm shower, a hot meal, a clean bed, and relative quiet are as good as gold to us. It is hard to stress about being the 15th person in line at the post office when you did not have to wear body armor and convoy through a hazardous area to get there. Combat veterans usually come home a bit wound up, but with some good preparation and follow through, the transition home does settle in.

It’s a very common occurrence for combat veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan to be asked, “So, have you deployed?” or “How many times have you deployed?”

And when you reply, “I came home last year from my third deployment,” the response is to pity the servicemember. I cannot tell you the number of Marines and sailors who have confided in me how annoying these encounters are. We are not speaking of being put in jail nor are we a draftee dragged off to fight in something we don’t believe in. We volunteered to serve our nation, knowing full well the price, and we proudly know that the world is a little bit better off with evil men, such as Saddam Hussein, no longer around to harm others.

To use an extreme example, at the end of World War II, when the death camps were discovered, more than 1 million people were liberated from Auschwitz or Treblinka or the many other places. These survivors did not enter into group therapy. No, these survivors of the worst of the last century banded together with the family, friends, and compatriots they could find and made a future for themselves.

Medical professionals have a critical role in assisting the physically and mentally wounded, but they are only part of the puzzle.

Ever since coming back from my second deployment in 2006, I have counseled a large number of men from all branches of the military. Most were senior enlisted or senior officers—men who had begun their careers just after the First Gulf War and for whom going ‘down range’ is something that was happening toward the end of their careers.

Why did these men seek me out? Because all contact with the chaplain is confidential. Even the fact that we were meeting was confidential. And with no paper trail and no fear of being immediately diagnosed this or that, these warriors chose to speak to someone about the difficulties of adjusting back into what passes for the real world.

As a chaplain I am a commissioned officer, but my job is to advise, not command. I have access, but not control. In my relationship with the command I have influence, not power. I am expected to focus on morals and morale. I am organically part of the military and am the only one with absolute confidentiality.

In this unique role I can have a master sergeant sit in my office and cry about the corporal who did not come home. A colonel with more than 23 years of service can talk about the fear he had in just walking to the shower trailer because the day before one of the trailers was hit by a stray mortar. Warriors who want to show to all they are strong don’t have to worry that I will think less of them when we recall all the good people we have lost and are saddened by it.

Among all the hundreds I have counseled over these past six years, there have been some who truly were burdened. I thought they most likely were suffering from PTS, and these I continued to support. But I also took them to medical so they could receive the full range of assistance they needed.

And I have never encountered any resistance from any clinical staff. There was never a question why I was bringing someone to them. They knew I was not dumping someone off, but bringing them to medical because the need was for care I could not provide.

If there is something I could put on a large billboard and post it by the busiest road, it would say, “YOU ARE NOT ALONE.”

There are so many offices, departments, organizations, and groups out there who just want to help. All a soldier need do is ask.

Most people need a trusted ear, a supportive friend. As a pastor to warriors I try not just to be that but also to remind my hard-chargers that the Lord is there for them. In the Gospel of St. Matthew (8:4-13) Jesus identifies the man with the greatest faith he has seen in Israel—it was not one of the apostles. No, it was the centurion, and Jesus did not tell him to stop being a soldier.

This leader of troops demonstrated his faith by accepting that the Lord could heal by just ‘saying the word.’ I believe the Lord has a special place in his heart for warriors and our warriors need to know that.

The profession of arms is an honorable one, and it is a profession that has inherent risks. But we all knew that coming in. No one who has joined the Armed Forces after 9/11, or reenlisted since then, has any illusions as to what is expected of us.

And when these professionals come home from battle, it is my hope and effort that those who are wounded, whether in heart, mind, or body, will be cared for.

As I was telling a group of Marines recently, in the history of the Marine Corps, no man has ever been left behind in battle. With that being true, why would we leave them behind now that we are home?

The officers and staff noncommissioned officers, the psychiatrists and psychologists, the nurses and corpsmen, the counselors and therapists, along with the chaplains are there for all who serve and their families, but especially for those whose burdens are weighing them down.

If you know someone in need, someone hurting because adjusting to the real world is not working, be that trustful ear. If they refuse medical help because they don’t want a mark on their record, then send them to a good chaplain. If they say that they are not a religious person, then say the chaplain is not worried about that. (Do I want people to have a relationship with our Lord? Yes. Will I force it on anyone? No.) Let them know they are not alone and we will not leave them behind. It is a hard thing for a warrior to ask for help. Tell them to be strong and raise that hand.

And trust me, we will be there for them.

-Father Michael R. Duesterhaus is a lieutenant commander in the United States Navy Reserve Force Chaplain Corps.