Team Infidel
Forum Spin Doctor
San Diego Union-Tribune
October 7, 2009
Pg. 1
War stresses, stigma factor into rising toll
By Jeanette Steele, Union-Tribune Staff Writer
Gunnery Sgt. James F. Gallagher always said, “I'm fine. I've got it.” A career military man, he mentored young Marines in his Camp Pendleton infantry company.
But his world crumbled soon after his seven-month combat duty in Iraq in 2005, during which his unit lost men, including the company captain.
Back home, he got stuck in a classroom and then was transferred to another unit, which meant staying behind while his men deployed to Japan and a perceived loss of status.
Gallagher, 40, showed none of his despair.
Not until one day in 2006 when his wife, Mary, got an odd series of phone calls. Gallagher rarely telephoned to chat midday. He kept telling Mary that he loved her. For once in his life he said, “I don't think I can do this.”
She was puzzled. But never, never did she expect to find her husband dead by his own hand when she and their children returned home. Gallagher hanged himself in their Camp Pendleton garage.
“Jim was the kind of person who didn't express a lot,” Mary Gallagher said. “As I look back, I didn't know the face of depression.”
She has found some peace by sharing her story through the national nonprofit Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors, commonly called TAPS, which will hold four days of seminars in San Diego starting tomorrow.
Wartime stress on the military since 2001 is revealing itself in a mounting number of suicides and suicide attempts.
The Marine Corps and the Army, which have fought most of the battles in Iraq and Afghanistan, saw an increase last year. A record 140 soldiers took their own lives. Forty-two Marines did the same — the highest number since at least 2001 for the corps. Also, 146 Marines attempted suicide last year, up from 89 seven years earlier.
The trend continues: Through August, the Marines had 36 suicides for 2009.
The battlefield seems to be having an effect, along with the heartstring and pocketbook stresses that accompany being away from home for six months or more, sometimes in seemingly back-to-back tours of duty.
According to Marine Corps statistics, 72 percent of Marines who killed themselves this year had deployed to a combat zone.
Gallagher said she will always wonder if her husband's war experience was the final burden he just couldn't shoulder.
“Was that the fine line that pushed him over the edge?” Gallagher asked. “He was also so proud of his service.”
A new Defense Department task force will hear testimony from military families tomorrow in conjunction with the seminars. The panel, mandated by Congress, is looking at how to remove the shame in seeking mental health care.
That stigma is perhaps the foremost issue in preventing suicide, said Kim Ruocco, manager of survivor support programs at TAPS. Ruocco, a former military wife, knows the situation personally.
Ruocco's husband was a Marine helicopter pilot who flew 75 missions in Iraq before returning to Camp Pendleton in late 2004. He was exhausted and faced another Iraq deployment in the coming year. His wife, who holds a master's degree in social work, could tell he needed help — even from across the country where the rest of the Ruocco family was living.
But Maj. John Ruocco, 40, felt his military career — and his chance to become a civilian commercial pilot — would get red-flagged if he visited the counselor's office.
“He thought the consequences were just huge,” Kim Ruocco said. “I felt like he was putting pressure on me — that to get help for him would be a betrayal.”
John Ruocco hanged himself in a Carlsbad hotel room in February 2005, one day after telling his wife he had decided to ask for assistance.
The military tries to put out the word that seeking treatment is the right thing to do. Its dozens of programs include hosting “suicide awareness” months and sending doctors into the field to speak to troops.
But the culture needs to change in every pilot ready room and every infantry trench, Ruocco said.
“There's a disconnect between saying it and what actually happens,” she said. “The actual language used around the squadrons and platoons is sometimes very derogatory about seeking help.”
Army Maj. Gen. Mark Graham agrees. Graham has become outspoken on the issue since his Army-bound son committed suicide shortly after he stopped taking antidepressants for fear the military would disapprove.
“It'll take time to change that stigma (in the military.) But I do think we're making some progress,” said Graham, who will be a speaker at the San Diego seminars.
“They'll have to see some people get promoted that have come forward,” Graham said, adding that there's a four-star Army general who went public with his post-traumatic stress disorder.
At the San Diego Naval Medical Center in Balboa Park, doctors said there's no hotline to the commanding officer when a Marine or sailor seeks mental health care.
“It is expressly forbidden to turn around and call commands the minute someone shows up asking for help. It really is focused on whether or not someone is safe,” said Cmdr. Ronald Burbank, head of the hospital's mental health department.
Suicides aren't a problem just for the active-duty military.
In 2007, the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs created a national suicide prevention hotline. Since then it has fielded 185,000 calls, of which more than 20,000 people were referred to enhanced care. This summer, the VA added online-chat capability so computer-savvy veterans can “talk” with their counselors via instant messaging.
Mary Gallagher hopes her husband's story will help other Marines or their families. She is hurt by his final chapter but not ashamed of it.
“We promised that his death wouldn't be in vain,” she said. “It's another cost of the war.”
October 7, 2009
Pg. 1
War stresses, stigma factor into rising toll
By Jeanette Steele, Union-Tribune Staff Writer
Gunnery Sgt. James F. Gallagher always said, “I'm fine. I've got it.” A career military man, he mentored young Marines in his Camp Pendleton infantry company.
But his world crumbled soon after his seven-month combat duty in Iraq in 2005, during which his unit lost men, including the company captain.
Back home, he got stuck in a classroom and then was transferred to another unit, which meant staying behind while his men deployed to Japan and a perceived loss of status.
Gallagher, 40, showed none of his despair.
Not until one day in 2006 when his wife, Mary, got an odd series of phone calls. Gallagher rarely telephoned to chat midday. He kept telling Mary that he loved her. For once in his life he said, “I don't think I can do this.”
She was puzzled. But never, never did she expect to find her husband dead by his own hand when she and their children returned home. Gallagher hanged himself in their Camp Pendleton garage.
“Jim was the kind of person who didn't express a lot,” Mary Gallagher said. “As I look back, I didn't know the face of depression.”
She has found some peace by sharing her story through the national nonprofit Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors, commonly called TAPS, which will hold four days of seminars in San Diego starting tomorrow.
Wartime stress on the military since 2001 is revealing itself in a mounting number of suicides and suicide attempts.
The Marine Corps and the Army, which have fought most of the battles in Iraq and Afghanistan, saw an increase last year. A record 140 soldiers took their own lives. Forty-two Marines did the same — the highest number since at least 2001 for the corps. Also, 146 Marines attempted suicide last year, up from 89 seven years earlier.
The trend continues: Through August, the Marines had 36 suicides for 2009.
The battlefield seems to be having an effect, along with the heartstring and pocketbook stresses that accompany being away from home for six months or more, sometimes in seemingly back-to-back tours of duty.
According to Marine Corps statistics, 72 percent of Marines who killed themselves this year had deployed to a combat zone.
Gallagher said she will always wonder if her husband's war experience was the final burden he just couldn't shoulder.
“Was that the fine line that pushed him over the edge?” Gallagher asked. “He was also so proud of his service.”
A new Defense Department task force will hear testimony from military families tomorrow in conjunction with the seminars. The panel, mandated by Congress, is looking at how to remove the shame in seeking mental health care.
That stigma is perhaps the foremost issue in preventing suicide, said Kim Ruocco, manager of survivor support programs at TAPS. Ruocco, a former military wife, knows the situation personally.
Ruocco's husband was a Marine helicopter pilot who flew 75 missions in Iraq before returning to Camp Pendleton in late 2004. He was exhausted and faced another Iraq deployment in the coming year. His wife, who holds a master's degree in social work, could tell he needed help — even from across the country where the rest of the Ruocco family was living.
But Maj. John Ruocco, 40, felt his military career — and his chance to become a civilian commercial pilot — would get red-flagged if he visited the counselor's office.
“He thought the consequences were just huge,” Kim Ruocco said. “I felt like he was putting pressure on me — that to get help for him would be a betrayal.”
John Ruocco hanged himself in a Carlsbad hotel room in February 2005, one day after telling his wife he had decided to ask for assistance.
The military tries to put out the word that seeking treatment is the right thing to do. Its dozens of programs include hosting “suicide awareness” months and sending doctors into the field to speak to troops.
But the culture needs to change in every pilot ready room and every infantry trench, Ruocco said.
“There's a disconnect between saying it and what actually happens,” she said. “The actual language used around the squadrons and platoons is sometimes very derogatory about seeking help.”
Army Maj. Gen. Mark Graham agrees. Graham has become outspoken on the issue since his Army-bound son committed suicide shortly after he stopped taking antidepressants for fear the military would disapprove.
“It'll take time to change that stigma (in the military.) But I do think we're making some progress,” said Graham, who will be a speaker at the San Diego seminars.
“They'll have to see some people get promoted that have come forward,” Graham said, adding that there's a four-star Army general who went public with his post-traumatic stress disorder.
At the San Diego Naval Medical Center in Balboa Park, doctors said there's no hotline to the commanding officer when a Marine or sailor seeks mental health care.
“It is expressly forbidden to turn around and call commands the minute someone shows up asking for help. It really is focused on whether or not someone is safe,” said Cmdr. Ronald Burbank, head of the hospital's mental health department.
Suicides aren't a problem just for the active-duty military.
In 2007, the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs created a national suicide prevention hotline. Since then it has fielded 185,000 calls, of which more than 20,000 people were referred to enhanced care. This summer, the VA added online-chat capability so computer-savvy veterans can “talk” with their counselors via instant messaging.
Mary Gallagher hopes her husband's story will help other Marines or their families. She is hurt by his final chapter but not ashamed of it.
“We promised that his death wouldn't be in vain,” she said. “It's another cost of the war.”