Bravo Lima

For your information, I will continue to redact this veterans name from my reporting. While he is in recovery and rehabilitation, I need to preserve his security and solitude. I am telling his story from my perspective as his brother in arms, and as the President of the Mackenzie RSA.

Note: I have forwarded the first invoice for his rehabilitation cost from The Difference. I would ask kindly from anyone who reads this, to consider that [Redacted] is finally with people who understand the pain he is in, who can give him the critical short-term care he has earned as a decorated NZ Army veteran.

Timeline:

[Redacted] called me on Saturday 7th December. We had pre-arranged with Michelle to travel up to Auckland and begin his treatment later on after Christmas, in early January. His situation was declining rapidly, and I needed to act fast in order to extract him from the environment, and people he would reach out to for more methamphetamine.

He explained his situation with great anxiety, that he needed to be removed from his situation immediately. Unable to drive with no money for a taxi, he would not be able to make the airport travel or pass security without a friend to care and speak on his behalf.

He gave me the location a motel, and I began looking for flights to Auckland. The earliest flight that would give me time to get to him from Fairlie (2.5 hours) including airport parking and time to check-in and clear security without too causing too much anxiety. We arrived on time and boarded the plane without any issues. He said to me that he would never have left and hotel room knowing what he was in for.

The withdrawal symptoms from injected and smoked methamphetamine or 'crack' are an excruciating bodily experience. Itchiness on the skin, crushing headaches, and an overwhelming desire to use the substance again. During the flight, he turned into my shoulder to be held. He was terrified of the close proximity to people and in agonizing physical pain. He did his best to keep his murmuring and tears as quiet as he could. The Airbus was full to capacity, bouncing through turbulence during the ascent. The passenger at the window to his left, and people in the rows infront of us were beginning to turn and look at him with concern. I imagine the hostess and everyone in the seats behind us were already watching, and listening to his groans of pain. I reassured him that we would be on the ground soon. I held him as best I could, and did my best to silently reassure the people I could make eye contact with, that he was comforted and not a danger to anyone.

I wore my ribbons in lieu of my medals, because I know that he lost his ones a long time ago. For four years and two of my deployments, we were in the same rifle company. This felt like our third deployment. He was already wresting with his demons, and my duty is to help him feel safe enough to rest.

Eventually, we both fell asleep. I had been driving my ute continuously over the weekend. While trying to sleep on the plane, I would have dreams that I was still at the wheel. I was still driving on the highway, manoeuvre through a chaotic situation. Then after a few seconds of sleep I would realise I have fallen asleep. My mind would sense the lurching, hurtling speed and weight of the vehicle. I would snap awake on high alert as if to get control the steering wheel and hit the brakes. Suffice to say, I was pretty scared myself. Thankfully each time I looked to my left, and he was fast asleep. 

We met with Daz at the airport McDonalds. [Redacted] needed to eat, and devoured the lot in the car during our ride out to West Auckland. Daz had been through the program himself, and had been clean for two years that week. He reassured [Redacted] that he was going to be all good.

When we arrived, the location was not a mental facility nor a resort. Right back off the road with views of the forest. We were greeted at the house by the staff, and [Redacted] was given his own room and comfortable bed. I observed while they carefully searched his belongings and his person, respectfully explaining that they knew all of the hiding places to keep drugs, and he was not here to be punished or feel ashamed if they found any. After everything was completed, they welcomed him to their home and gave us the tour.

I gave him one of my 2/1 RNZIR shirts, and my Mackenzie RSA hoodie as he had no other clean clothes. Fresh food had already been made for us to have kai. The other guests of the house were welcoming and respectful, as they understood the pain of his withdrawals. Two of the men were similar in age, and had both arrived themselves only days ago. They were very conscious, glowing men who had just finished a round of exercise and boxing in the gym.

[Redacted] is now safe, removed from the temptation and ease of acquiring any 'gear' to feed his demons. He is surrounded by people who keep themselves sober, care for him, control his medication, feed him fresh nutritious food, and manage his daily routine and medical appointments. I felt incredibly grateful for how they welcomed him into their home, one of two such houses The Difference have to facilitate a cooperative and healing space, with access to specialists, medication, and councillors. I felt humbled with a renewed perspective on many things. They arranged for an Uber to drop me back to the airport with plenty of time for my flight, and so I could see [Redacted] before he dozed off to sleep peacefully. He was in their careful hands now, and I felt like I had achieved everything I sought out for him. He can sleep peacefully, and now I can too for awhile.

Now begins a long detox period, for both of us. Goals have been set for the next 30 days. The duration of his stay is up to him now. I am incredibly proud of him, and anyone else who has fronted up and taken on their greatest demons. His military experience ended many years ago, and his traumatic memories are buried deep below the layers and effects of time. 

He deployed six times for New Zealand. Timor. Solomans. Timor. Afghanistan. Timor. Solomans. Within eight years, he had compressed all six deployments into the back of his mind, and constant physical pain as a reminder. Between several of his deployments, he came home to newly born sons and daughters, whom to this day do not know their father, and what he has endured in his absence.

His body bears the toll of the Infantryman. Hips, shoulders, spinal injuries, hearing damage, traumatic brain injury. Thousands of kilometers walking with a heavy pack. Tens of thousands in rounds of ammunition and explosives. Reverse day/night cycles and sleep deprivation. The endless courses, exercises, and consumption in between. His experience and symptoms are shared with tens of thousands who served and deployed, and who struggle to makes sense of who to become after handing in your rifle for the last time.

After [Redacted] left the Army, he struggled to integrate into a new life. He had witnessed the deaths of civilians, and seen neighbourhoods burned to the ground by gangs. He has witnessed chaos and violence, and unleashed that rite of violence unto others during engagements. A period of gang violence, intimidation, debt collection, and heavy dependency on drugs followed his military career. Veterans Affairs and the Papanui RSA have experienced great difficulty in caring for him, as with many of his close friends from 2/1 RNZIR. His friends have struggled to hold back their tears given the reality of his situation. The reality that the NZDF does not remember us, and many RSA's would not put their business ambitions aside for the welfare of their veterans. Veterans Affairs have declined him, and many others the duty of care critical support he is entitled too.

[Redacted] was awarded the Chief of Army's Commendation in 2007, for rescuing a drowning swimmer at New Brighton Beach. He is still the same good man, beneath the layers of pain and scars. He wants to be a father to his six children again one day, the oldest of whom were born while he was overseas.

He experienced a career most young soldiers yearn for. Back to back operations in many cases, where there was no decompression time or councilling beyond the Platoon office. He has never received proper treatment, until yesterday. He is a retired New Zealand Army veteran. A title which he is proud to have earned, and I am proud to uphold. 

My mission to support [Redacted] does not end. The necessity for intervention, extraction, and delivery into care will persist.

My role in the Returned and Services Association is rooted in the emblematic believe that no one gets left behind. Before all other administrative actions, preserving life comes first. When your buddy is wounded and needs to be carried to safety, and higher medical aid.

When the bill for his treatment arrives at the table, we empty our pockets to help him out.