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Interview: An Iraq Vet Runs for Congress

David Botti — Wed, 05 Mar 2008 17:57:34 GMT

Kieran Lalor is a former Marine reservist and Iraq veteran running for Congress in New York’s nineteenth district. He’s also the founder of Iraq Vets for Congress, a group of 14 Republican, pro-war vets running in districts from Maine to California.

Lalor, 32, and I spent many years together as rifleman in the same infantry company based in upstate New York. We served in Iraq (although in different platoons), and experienced the military’s transition into wartime footing after 9/11.

I spoke with Lalor about our shared military experiences, fallen comrades, his entry into politics, John McCain, and how he’s hoping to make 2008 the year of Republican war veterans elected to office. Excerpts:

SOLDIER’S HOME: When we were over there in Iraq I barely thought about the politics of it all. I had some sense of what was going, but didn’t pay to much attention to it. Was it the same for you? When did you start really thinking hard about the political aspect of the war?

LALOR: Officially my campaign began on November 25, 2007, but it really began on 9/11. One of my sisters worked in the north tower of the World Trade Center. On September 11th I was living in here in Westchester, about 40 miles from Ground Zero. I was watching TV with a year of reserve duty under my belt, so I was watching this as a U.S. Marine; watching our country get attacked, wondering if my sister was dead or alive. I just felt helpless. I didn’t ever want to feel that way again, and it just woke me up. I realized our generation had a big challenge.

I went through the 90’s and everything was hunky dory: a prosperous economy, and at least the appearance of peace. I thought we were going to have a free ride. Our parents' generation had the Cold War, our grandparents had WWII and the depression. September 11th hit and I thought, "OK, our generation has some work to do."

In Iraq I don’t think I really thought about the politics except that I just remember thinking of some of these pictures I had taken: the kids and the American flag, the kids running up to us, or hanging out by the gate [of our HQ]. If these scenes could have been brought home five years ago the impression of the war could’ve been different here. We got a lot of negative, and not a lot of positive.

It wasn’t Iraq so much as the wider War on Terror that got me to run. My passion became how do you secure a country of 300 million people, and protect civil liberties.

Did anything specific happen while we were in Iraq that’s influenced your platform, or ideas about politics?

One thing that informs my foreign policy view, and why I continue to support the war in Iraq, is how we were running patrols 24/7 out in the streets of Nasiriyah. We were being proactive. Well, the Italian [coalition forces] relieved us, and their doctrine was react to problems in the streets. And, they got hit [by a suicide bomber], and a good number of them died. I think that the Italian strategy of reacting, and staying home in the compound until something happened in the streets, was basically American foreign policy up until September 11th. On a small scale our [rifle company’s] doctrine of being proactive, and being omnipresent in the streets is what I believe is the best post-9/11 foreign policy.

I asked Lalor about Lcpl Glover, a very good friend of his who was killed in Iraq in 2006. Glover didn’t serve with us in Iraq, but he joined the unit later and volunteered for a subsequent deployment. He was killed along with another Marine from our unit during a sniper attack in Fallujah. I wrote about his funeral for a post on Veterans Day last year.

Mike Glover was one of my best friends, and in some ways I feel responsible for getting him into the Marine Corps. I really feel like we owe it to all those guys, especially Glover because I knew him so well. I don’t want him to have died in vain. That happened three years after we got back, and his death really made me more resolved. I talked to Glover’s family a little bit about that aspect, and they don’t want his death to have been in vain. I’ve also gotten calls from Gold Star Mothers and Fathers saying thanks for carrying on my son’s legacy. It takes my breath away, and I take it seriously.

I never talk about him in a political context. I’m comfortable talking about him to you because I know you. I told a story about him in a speech on Veterans Day, but I asked permission from his family to mention him. But, he kind of symbolizes all of the other guys [four marines from our unit killed in Iraq from 2004-2006]. What’s ironic is that they all volunteered, and didn’t have to go. It’s kind of eerie, but it says a lot.

Why did you form the group Iraq Vets for Congress?

To help individual campaigns. If there are veterans who vote because a guy is a fellow veteran, that individual person does that on his own. [I formed the group] because politics has become a millionaire's game. A high, high percentage of people in congress are millionaires. So, by joining forces with other veterans we’ve been able to get more national attention. We’re starting to break through nationally and what that does it raise our individual profiles. And, the biggest thing is fund raising. I have to raise more than a million dollars for this campaign. I have about a hundred thousand so far, and my opponent already has a million dollars.

Does the fact that McCain, another Republican veteran, is also running have any affect on your individual campaigns?

McCain always brings out a lot of veterans who vote. He’ll bring out a few thousand people that are veterans that don’t normally vote; that seems to be a trend. Also, because of Iraq Vets for Congress I’ve been contacted by the McCain campaign. What we offer him is 14 guys in districts where there’s no republican Congressman. There’s two guys in Ohio and two guys in Pennsylvania which are big states that you have to win. We can help him, and he can help us. Also, we try to hammer home that we want to make 2008 the year of the republican veteran. With McCain on the popular ticket, the 14 of us, some other Vietnam vets, and Gulf War vets running, that’s a theme we’re trying to build.

A lot of people paint Republicans as chicken hawks: people who cheer lead for war, but don’t want to put their lives on the line. Our campaigns dispel that myth.

Is there a danger of placing too much of your campaign’s emphasis on the fact you’re a veteran?

I don’t think that’s enough to get somebody elected, but it definitely gets peoples' attention. There has to be a balance. You have to be more than just a guy who served in Iraq.

What about the fact that you were a reservist? We were called up twice on relatively short notice, leaving behind or jobs, school, and families. What impact has that had on you?

That kind of balancing act: living in a couple of different worlds and being well-rounded, is very helpful running for Congress. I’m not completely of the military mindset, which I think is good. Being half in the military world, and half in the civilian world gives you double the amount of perspective. I can see the other side: what it does to employers, and what it’s like trying to get back into the work force for example. Sometimes I’d go into interviews and I’d feel like I was sitting in that chair because this guy wanted someone to debate the Iraq war with–even though I had no chance of getting that job.

How have people reacted on the campaign trail towards the fact that you’re a veteran?

People have been pretty good. There’s been positive feedback. I don’t think it’s enough to get elected. The Iraq war is a difficult issue for republicans, and every republican is going to have to deal with it. And somebody who’s served in Iraq can deal with it better than anybody. When I get questions about it I say, listen: I risked my life there, I lost friends there. If I thought it wasn’t making our country safer I’d be the loudest voice saying that.

The Image of a Veteran

David Botti — Fri, 01 Feb 2008 21:18:35 GMT

The current series in the New York Times on veterans who've committed murder has spurred tremendous debate over the way vets are portrayed by the media. To understand origins of the prevailing portrayals of our current veterans, it's a good idea to take a step back and view the issue in a historical perspective.

Jerry Lembcke is a Vietnam veteran and professor of sociology at Holly Cross college in Worcester, Massachusetts. Lembcke's book "The Spitting Image: Myth, Memory, and the Legacy of Vietnam," looked in part at how the news media and pop-culture cultivated narrow portrayals of Vietnam vets. He has also written op-eds for the Boston Globe, Newsday, and the San Francisco Chronicle among others. In 1968 Lembcke was drafted into the Army, serving as chaplain's assistant before returning home and joining the anti-war movement.

I talked to Lembcke about how the Vietnam-era vets experience impacts that of those men and women coming home from war today -- and how he thinks the media is handling its coverage of veterans and issues associated with them.

SOLDIER'S HOME: You've written that a veteran's behavior can be influenced more from how past vets were portrayed in pop-culture, as opposed to personal experiences he/she might have had. How specifically does this happen?

LEMBCKE: The post-Vietnam popular culture representations of veterans was so powerful and so long lasting, and it so overwhelmed the war itself in popular culture, that as people began to come home during the Gulf War in the 1990’s, and present these same symptoms as Vietnam veterans coming back, I thought there’s a connection here. I think I used the phrase “learned experience,” and it occurred to me that this was a generation of veterans who’d grown up immersed in this popular culture of what it looks like to be a war veteran coming home.

This was very different than the culture Vietnam vets grew up in. Looking at representations of WWII veterans for example, which was not nearly as powerful in film for example. We got more war films about WWII, but not so many films about veterans coming home.

What is being portrayed in these kinds of movies that can influence veterans?

In the Vietnam war movies it was the dysfunctional, deranged, and even dangerous vet. I looked at about 100 films that portrayed Vietnam vets in them, and there wasn’t a single film that portrayed a healthy, functional veteran. So, what we see among other things is a lot of violence, the war brought home in a psychological sense, and even sometimes Hollywood portrayed guys coming home with their hand grenades and weapons and used those on the street.

Now we’re seeing one of the main representations of Iraq war veterans coming home is in the press with the violent crimes they’re committing. A lot of stories read to me like a lot of press reports and fictional representations of Vietnam vets that guys can’t leave the war behind them. They come home and they act out these war scenarios on the streets.

Is there a way the press can report on crimes committed by returning veterans without having such representations be the result?

Look at the current series the New York Times is running. The first in the series reported that one third of the violence is against spouses, girlfriends, and children. What this shows is a problem of masculinity and sense of worth as a man that perhaps the war has affected. These kinds of acts of violence against women and children are ways of acting out on that. Those are the kinds of stories that should be reported rather than this kind of pedestrian-type story of people coming home scared, and they’ve been trained up to act on their fears militarily

So it’s an issue of the press making the issue too black and white, and not attending to the gray areas?

The press is asking the wrong questions. They’re asking what is it about the military experience that causes these guys to act out like this, rather than asking what it is about the military culture (and even the culture of America) that requires men’s self esteem to somehow be related to their war experience.

You’ve said that it’s possible the behavior of Iraq veterans is influenced by past portrayals of Vietnam veterans. Is it possible reporters are also influenced by these pop culture images of Vietnam vets?

That exactly right. What we need to ask is, why did this story sound true to the reporter? What is the reporter herself bringing into this situation of reporting that leads her to think that this story is true when she hears it. These people live in the same culture you and I live in. They go to the same movies, they read the same books, they hear the same kinds of stories. Their sense of what is right is based on the same cultural references as the rest of us.

You’ve done some research on the origin of the term “PTSD.” There are some who say that the term is overused in talking about Iraq veterans. How was it used when it first came out?

I went back and looked at how PTSD came into being in the first place as a diagnostic category. I think it was attractive to the press at the time because it served a cultural and political function. It was inviting because it displaced from public view the fact that a lot of people were returning from Vietnam opposed to the war. The attractiveness of PTSD was that it re-spun the coming home story. It might have been attractive to journalists for reasons of basic liberal humanitarianism or even guilt that they didn’t go to the war. They were finding some way to speak sympathetically to the experience of people coming home from war. That may be what’s happening again. These stories [in the today’s press] are written very good heartedly. They’re not attempts to slander Iraq war veterans, as some critics seem to suggest they do. But, going back to Vietnam vets there was a stigma surrounding them. That’s the hidden danger that if indeed journalists are writing these stories because they are sympathetic, and they want to do something good for Iraq war veterans, in the long run they might be doing some damage.

What about how we use the term “PTSD” today?

PTSD had prominence in the press so quickly because that’s where the Vietnam-era story leaves off. That was sort of the easy tag line for them. Lots and lots of analogies. These stories are written with phrases such as: “it’s like with Vietnam-era veterans.” These stories are full of those kinds of tag lines. And they’re apparently written like that as a way of engaging the reader at the level that the writer assumes the reader is at. They assume correctly that the readers are coming out of a historical period in which they’ve been immersed in these images of PTSD and war veterans.

The American public remembers what happened to Vietnam vets when they came home much more then they remember the war itself. The war in Vietnam has really faded in American memory, but people have these very sharp images of the spitting incidents and PTSD. Because those are the images that have hung on in popular culture, and I think it’s almost certain that will happen with the war in Iraq--that the coming home narrative is going to displace the history of the war itself. And that could happen quite quickly.

A Stateside Army Medic on Treating Fellow Soldiers

David Botti — Tue, 18 Dec 2007 16:59:50 GMT

I recently spoke by phone with a military friend who's currently a nursing student at the Walter Reed Army Medical Center. He talked about how being with the war's wounded every day affects him, both on a human level and as someone who may be deployed to Iraq in the future. Of the scandal which broke last February at the hospital, he assumes the media blew it out of proportion and hasn't seen any negative conditions at the facility.

What's interesting about his words is how in some cases they could be applied to any civilian hospital worker in the country, and in others we see how his position as a soldier informs his experiences. As he is still on active duty in the Army, he's asked for anonymity. Excerpts:

On working as a stateside medic and nursing student:

Personally I’d say that you get to see another side of the war from being on the health care side. [The wounded soldiers] are treated with a lot of respect. They’re really cared for. On an emotional level sometimes the reality of it catches you. You try to be professional, but you’re still human. And sometimes it dawns on you the situation that person’s in is a very harsh one…There are situations that I’m very happy these people are alive and everything else, but sometimes you wonder if there are fates worse than death.

On his thoughts during off-duty time:

I think off-duty I think about it more. I think about the possibility–you know, I wear the same uniform as they do. These guys are younger than us. They’re kids. It scares me because I know that I’m still gonna be in the Army until 2010, and I’m pretty sure I’m going back over [to Iraq]. And to be faced with that reality every day looking at the people you’re looking at, and knowing that this is a very indiscriminate war; knowing that you can be walking to the bathroom and just get hit by something in any kind of zone. It's guerrilla warfare. It’s ugly. Your chances are very good that you can be that guy. There’s a lot more people injured than are coming up dead.

On conversations with patients:

They’re pretty honest about what happened, or what they remember–which they usually don’t. They’re usually like, “yeah, I was driving or doing this and then I woke up and I was in Germany.” They like to talk it out. They love to try to relate to you [as an Army soldier].

On how he comforts a patient's fears:

I think it’d be safe to say it’s kind of like, you know how us infantryman have that black humor. I think humor is one of the things I use.

On controlling his own fears:

I think the biggest thing that affects me is my fears. I mean, honestly, I get nightmares and stuff. But I think that’s more my anxiety of what my future holds. Sometimes you just need to indulge in the work and do whatever it is to help that person. Sometimes you focus on that person, and that’s how you get by.

On the worst he’s seen in a stateside military hospital:

The burn ward–it was just gruesome, you know. Everything was rearranged and changed. They have pictures [of the soldiers beforehand]–you know, a family puts up pictures. It’s a common practice. You look at someone who’s burnt severely and it’s hard to ever imagine they’re a human. And then right next to that patient–that slab of meat, rearranged face, it’s almost monstrous–right next to that, only to make it more melancholy, is the picture of the young kid with his future ahead of him. Not to sound so cliché. But, you know that person has the future ahead of him. That look that says, ‘look at me I just joined the Army, I’ve got my new uniform, a young girlfriend.’ And they’re not kind of robbed, they’re a hundred percent robbed of that. I think that’s a dark reality right there.

On the best he’s seen:

The best moment I’ve had was one of my first patients I had. I actually watched him for three weeks. I took care of him. He was one of my harder cases, and I purposely took him for academic reasons. And I watched him go from being very immobile and sick–just looking like hell to now he’s talking. That was powerful. You actually watch your accomplishment by giving care, you actually nourish something back to life.

Thoughts of Marines from Iraq War's Beginning

David Botti — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 19:02:59 GMT

During my deployment to Iraq in 2003 I kept a journal thinking someday, when I'm old and gray, I'd want to remember how things were back in the summer of '03. One section of this journal was comprised of interviews I did with Marines in my platoon over a period of two days. We'd been in Iraq less than three weeks, and so far had not moved from our initial position guarding a bridge in the middle of nowhere.

The interviews were not done for any journalistic purpose, but simply to get a sense of what other people in my platoon were thinking. I've posted excerpts below. One thing to keep in mind as you read them is the diversity of answers. Some of them may sound crass, but that's just the kind of black humor that gets you though the day. Also remember that at the time the war was less than a month old:

Interviews taken April 16th – 18th, 2003

How has your opinion of the war changed?

-“At first I didn’t give a sh*t, but now I’m glad, I like giving little kids tootsie rolls.”
-“At first I thought it was good because there was viable cause with weapons of mass destruction. Now I think it’s a farce because they’re aren’t any and if there are they’ve been brought in by the Americans. Anyone with shiny things on their collars [officers] is an idiot.”
-“I always wanted to come over and kick ass, glad we did it this time.”
-“Before I wasn’t sure how Iraqi civilians felt about us coming, how they felt, if they actually wanted us to fix their country. If it was really an Iraqi freedom operation. Now I think they’re happy, they’re friendly, they’re glad to see us (except the six we just captured). It’s a rich oil country, but people live Third World, no shoes.”
-“First the constant is that the U.S. has it’s own ideas on capitalizing from this. But I feel better being here now, because we are here, but it’s worth it that we’re helping these people. The U.S. is a bunch of pigs because it’s for oil–not humanitarian, but the people will be helped.”
-“I didn’t think we’d face as little resistance as we did from hard core Islamics, because we’re a non-Arab army in an Arab’s country. War becomes more legitimate with each person I see every day.”
-“First our intentions were not to help these people, so not entirely. But a little good has come out of it, but who knows what kind of mess this will lead to.”
-“War is not what it seems to be on TV, only a few exciting seconds are shown. I still think it’s good for why we’re here.”
-“Since the beginning I wanted to help people. My understanding of war has changed, it’s a messy business. America promised too much, Iraqis had basic needs under Saddam. They’re starting to wonder how America is going to end up here.”

Have you thought about September 11th since you’ve been here?

-“I think we’d still be here even if 9/11 hadn’t occurred.”
-“No, I look at my watch twice a day at 9:11, that’s the only context.”
-“We’ve all moved on from that.”
-“Last night. I’m trying to relate it to here. I want people I know living in New York City to live and not have to worry about things.”
-“No, surprisingly I don’t think I have.”
-“Yes, since then our country has taken on a different stance in dealing with the world. That’s part of what we’re doing, not just freeing Iraq, fighting terrorism. The world wouldn’t be where it was today.”
-“In the beginning. Now I have no time to think about that sh*t.”
-“I wonder if Saddam had anything to do with it.”
-“No, not really. Now that you mention it, I’m surprised I haven’t.”
-“Every day. A family friend, a firefighter, was lost. This was my first experience of America being attacked.”
-“All the time. It began this odyssey. Personally it was the start of a long journey to this point. It will never be over in full, but my own contribution to my country will have been resolved, so I can move forward. This is closing the chapter on the journey. Time to move on to a new phase.”

If you could speak to the Iraqi people on television, what would you say?

-“I have a ten inch c*ck – just kidding. I’d say Saddam is gone, but the job is not done. Make sure you help us get you a new government, so we can get out. Never become as cowardly as suicide bombers.”
-“You owe us.”
-“That’s all you had?”
-“Look forward to a brighter future.”
-“If you’re happy we’re here, good. If not, we’ve won, f*ck you, we did it fast. Your country sucks d*ck and I don’t know why you stay here.”
-“Bring me meat and bread.”
-“I’d thank the people for their cooperation. I’m glad they’re free.”
-“You’re welcome.”
-“We’ve given you a chance to unf*ck yourselves, don’t f*ck up, take full advantage. Tolerance is key.”
-“I’d advise them there is a lot in this world they’ve never know, and to be open to this. We’re giving you a chance to see something beyond what you’ve known before.”
-“Patience, Patience. There is no magical stick to change everything. You need to do things yourselves, Americans won’t do everything.”
-“Thank you for tearing us away from our loving families to live in your miserable country.”
-“I hope we actually helped them. Everything done was done for their good. I’m sorry if they had to suffer at all.”
-“Now it’s up to you guys.”
-“Freedom to live the life you want is the greatest freedom you can have.”
-“Now we’re here to help, we mean no harm. Take precaution on how you approach us, we’re still alert. Please cooperate and obey the laws.”

How do you think you will look back on this in forty years?

-“Talking to the grandkids–it’s nothing, not a big deal. There’s more reaction to things now, not in the future.”
-“In forty years America’s power and influence won’t be as strong. Our mideast expansion is the beginning of us overextending.”
-“I’d just miss everybody. You don’t have friends like this at home, or anywhere.”
-“I won’t.”
-“I’m trying to appreciate what we’re doing. I feel proud, I’m proud now.”
-“I’d be proud I did something productive.”
-“If I hadn’t come here I would have been frustrated. I’m glad I was here no matter what we end up doing.”
-“I hope to forget, but probably never will.”
-“Everything was worth it–stopping our lives for a second time and making sacrifices.”
-“I really have no idea. I probably won’t talk about it. People wouldn’t understand. Only if someone was there would I talk about it.”
-“It characterized the youth of my life. It formed the foundation for the rest of my life. Friends here will know you better than anyone. This is life.”

What would you do back home if people are still protesting the war? / If they did so to your face?

-“I wouldn’t care. / I’d punch them, then kick them when they’re down.”

-“They have every right to. / I’d walk right by them.”

-“I think they’re stupid. / I’d punch them, I’d be so angry I couldn’t even speak. They haven’t earned the right to protest, not until they serve their country. Civilian couch potatoes don’t know their d*ck from their ass.”

-“They do it because some have nothing better to do, to do something. They have no idea what it’s all about. / I’d say that’s your opinion, but I don’t agree and I’m not going to discuss it with you because you weren’t part of it.”

-“It’s good. It’s America. Some people do it because it’s the hip thing. People think it’s cool to be anti-something, but not anti-troops, that’s bad. Before being here I’d be more easily swayed into protesting. It’s still for oil, but I’ve become more for it. If we leave without capitalizing on oil, I think that would be great. / Hey, whatever. I’d have the same conversation we’re having right now.”

-“Every American is entitled to opinion, go for it, but I don’t agree with it. I hope the news shows it as we’re seeing it. After people see how it is right now, there should be no more protests. If they’re protesting they’re just hypocrites. / If you protest you protest the soldiers, and that’s wrong, they don’t make policy. Soldiers will fight when you hate the cause and when you love the cause.”

-“Protesters are naïve. Their agendas are not as benevolent or pro-Iraqi as they might seem. They’re all under the Iraqi banner but using the war for their own agendas. / I might be personally angry but would try to educate them that I’m a professional soldier, that’s my job.”

-“They have every right. I don’t agree with a lot of it. You can protest anything, that’s what’s great about our country. / I’d just keep walking.”

-“If they were here and saw the people here with nothing and smiles when they see us, they would change their views real fast. They protest just to argue. / I’d go nuts on them. I would love to hear their reason, then show them a video of Iraqi people and then see what they would say.”

-“They have a right to, but a lot don’t know all the facts. They haven’t been to Iraq like we have, but they have a right to do and say what they want, which is why we’re the most powerful nation. I just hope they don’t call us baby killers. / Depends. If they were hostile I’d punch them. If they were decent, I’d try to talk to them about what they saw.”

-“They don’t have a f*cking clue what’s going on. Cowards. They’re over privileged kids directing their own ideas against this. They can afford to go against their government. / I’d honor their right. If they made accusations against me, things would get heated. I’d ask them to back up what they say.”

-“I like them, they’re the ones who care about the troops.”

A West Point Graduate on His Fifth Reunion

David Botti — Tue, 06 Nov 2007 15:29:46 GMT

A West Point graduate and two-tour Iraq veteran, Matt Mabe recently returned to the military academy for his fifth-year reunion. He left the Army as a Captain, and served as a combat engineer during his Iraq deployments. Matt and I are classmates in graduate school, and I recently interviewed him about his emotional return to West Point. Excerpts:

S.H.: You served two tours in Iraq since graduating from West Point. What was it like to return to your alma mater as a combat veteran?

Matt Mabe: It’s funny. When I was a cadet, I would look at graduates returning for their reunions as people who had triumphed in life. Some still wore the uniform. Others had left the Army to pursue careers in civilian life. They all carried an air of accomplishment. They all seemed to have won the lottery of life.

I always fantasized about returning one day as one of those content, successful, confident graduates I admired. And when I finally did make it back, I guess I played the part.

It was Homecoming weekend. There was a tour and a parade. There were barbecues and a football game. There were thousands of cadets enjoying one day of respite in a punishing four-year experience. It was novel and pleasant.

But, deep down, I felt empty. I began to think about those of my classmates who could not be there to share the experience with those of us who could.

I thought of Todd Bryant, who was killed by a roadside bomb outside Fallujah on Halloween Day 2003 after only a few weeks on the ground. He had been married for two months.

I thought of Jim Gurbisz, who suffered the same fate in Baghdad in November 2005. He was honored with a burial in Arlington National Cemetery.

I thought of Drew Jensen, who was shot in the neck by a sniper in Baqubah in May, paralyzing him from the neck down. He had been trying to save one of his soldiers who was pinned behind a Humvee after a bomb explosion. Last month, Drew asked his wife and mother to take him off life support. Before having his final wish granted, he donated $10,000 to Walter Reed Army Medical Center to establish a fund to help families cover expenses while visiting their wounded loved ones.

I thought about the values that the academy imbued in all of us over four grueling years. Things like Loyalty, Selfless Service, Honor.

I felt proud to have once walked the same halls as these men. It comforted me to think that their souls will always dwell among those hallowed grounds.

I am haunted by the sacrifices that thousands of Americans like them have made. The faces of the cadets I saw at my reunion reminded me of the innocence they will soon lose when they, too, are thrown against the guns.

And my heart broke for my country.

What are your last memories of West Point as a cadet?

My last and most vivid memories of West Point are of my graduation in June 2002, and not just because it’s how I spent my last day there. The morning was hot, bright, and perfect. It was the culmination of four anxious years spent in intense training and labored study.

Graduating cadets had put more effort into polishing their brass breastplates and hat crests, pressing their white belts, and shining their shoes than they had in all four years before.

We were the bicentennial class. Accordingly, a great deal of preparation had gone into the week-long ceremonies. VIPs, old graduates and media had descended on the place to be a part of it, to remember it and to record it. I felt privileged just to be present.

President Bush was the keynote speaker. He delivered what is now considered to be his second in a series of speeches to the American public that would make the case for war, the first being his post-9/11 State of the Union Address.

After the speech, I lined up in the queue to receive my diploma and my shiny new lieutenant’s bars. I was so nervous that I didn’t even hear my name called. I had to be prompted to walk up the ramp and salute the superintendent.

Then, diploma in hand, I walked a few steps further to stand face to face with the commander-in-chief. He shook my hand.

Cadets spend their entire time at West Point dreaming of the emblematic moment when they can “see the academy in the rearview mirror.” Driving away with my parents and my sister that day, I know I must have turned around and taken one last look at those fabled, formidable gates. But I don’t remember it.

All that resonates from that day is what President Bush said to me when I stood before him on the graduation platform.

“Take care of those soldiers, son,” the president told me.

I said that I would.

What part of your reunion brought about the strongest emotions?

I am not a sports fan. I never have been. But the most moving part of my reunion occurred in the stands watching Army’s Homecoming football game against Tulane.

The sight of a sea of cadets in their crisp white summer uniforms assembled in support of an often beleaguered team reminded me of the camaraderie I once enjoyed. It made me miss the Saturdays in the fall when I could let out all the frustrations of an exhausting week with my buddies in the stadium. That phenomenon at West Point has clearly not changed.

And I may not have even noticed the significance of the current cadets’ raucous gathering had it not been for the perspective of the woman I brought as my date.

She said it was refreshing to know there is still a place that exists where young people embody values that many Americans seem to have forgotten.

It made me think that what the cadets today face after graduation is immensely more harrowing than what my classmates and I ever imagined our service would entail. When the towers came down in New York, cadets in my class were already locked in to our Army commitments. Before that, all we knew was that we would be joining a “peacetime Army.” Had any of us wanted out after September 11, it would have been tough luck. (To my knowledge, none of us did.)

It is one thing to have to go to war. It is quite another to volunteer for it.

The young men and women today who decide to enter the ranks do so with the certainty that they will, and I am humbled by their courage.

Coming together for the first time in five years, how much did you and your classmates talk about Iraq?

None. I think that we were all sick of talking about it. I mean we all have our war stories. What I needed was a vacation from the reality that the Iraq tragedy has created.

My conversations with classmates centered around our time as cadets. We laughed a lot about our misfortunes as plebes and our antics as upperclassmen. We recalled the miseries of merciless winters. The inconveniences of daily discipline at the academy, which seemed trivial after graduation, became important again.

For me, West Point is a magical place. It exists in a fairytale setting, tucked away in the hills along the Hudson River. Its ramparts dominate the twist in the river where General Washington’s Continental Army was once garrisoned.

The timelessness of the academy almost makes one forget that there is a world outside.

My classmates and I talked for hours about lots of things: our young years, new families, aspirations for the future. But Iraq did not come up. And for that day, it was fine with me.

Sexual Assault in the Ranks

David Botti — Mon, 05 Nov 2007 22:51:57 GMT

The Veterans Administration recently announced the opening of a new treatment facility for female veterans. When it opens in December, the New Jersey facility will be the only residential treatment center in the country exclusively treating women with what’s known as MST: military sexual trauma. It’s a growing problem in the ranks: a Pentagon report released last March showed that the number of reported incidents of sexual assault spiked from 2,400 in 2005 to nearly 3,000 last year—an increase of roughly 24 percent. Dr. Mic Hunter is a student of the problem. He holds a doctorate in clinical psychology, maintains a practice in St. Paul, Minn., and recently published a book titled, “Honor Betrayed: Sexual Abuse in America’s Military,” which looks at this issue among women and homosexuals. NEWSWEEK’s David Botti spoke with Hunter about the scope of the problem, the type of abuse some veterans deal with—and possible solutions. Excerpts:

NEWSWEEK: What is the history of military sexual abuse, and what’s the record of treatment given to victims?
Mic Hunter: There are two questions there. One is how long has this been going on. The answer is forever. We have records of it in the Civil War, and certainly in war sexual assault has been widespread. How long [have people been paying attention to it?] Only recently. The ’60s was the first time that sexual assault of a male was even [considered illegal] in the military. All the laws were written for the victim to be female. And so every time there’s a scandal, people talk about there being zero tolerance for it. Only recently has meaningful action been taken.

What types of cases are you seeing?
There’s a whole continuum from harassment, to fondling, to violent gang rapes. Particularly, males tend to be gang-raped, and so they suffer more physical consequences than females, who tend to get raped by a single perpetrator. One of the things that’s different about the military is that you can’t just walk off your job like you could in the civilian world. And you’re in a situation where you might worry that you’re gonna get killed, that if you report me you’ll get accidentally killed from friendly fire. If it’s a male-on-male sexual abuse there’s a concern that a superior will say, “Well, that wasn’t sexual abuse, that was homosexual contact, and so we’re gonna bring you up on that.”

How does rank play into all of this?
Sexual assault is about power. Someone who already has authority over someone can use that as a way to be sexually inappropriate with them. From the very beginning military personnel are trained to follow orders, and so they’re at a disadvantage; it’s harder for them to say no to somebody. In one case this sergeant ordered a woman to come to his barracks after lights-out, and she thought that was kind of funny. She didn’t really think of it as an illegal order, and then once he got her there he sexually assaulted her. People in the military have that whole idea: “Well, I’m a trained killer, but I froze in this situation.” The reaction was: “It’s not the enemy attacking me, it’s family.” It has an incest dynamic in it: “I’m supposed to trust these people; they’re supposed to be part of this special organization, and now look what’s happening to me.”

How is the military sexual trauma in this conflict—the Iraq time period—unique?
Historically, occupation armies have a higher incidence of sexual assault than do active invading armies. We know that since WWII. The thing that’s different about this war from previous wars is that more people are talking about it. I just got back from the male survivor conference in New York City, where there were two workshops on military sexual trauma, which is the first time in 11 years there has been a single one. So to have two of them … something different is happening. When the VA is starting to have groups for sexual abuse survivors, these people that were abused 30 years ago are coming forward and asking for help. So we know that it’s been going on forever … but how it’s different is that they have services for it.

Is there anything being done to treat sexual abuse victims while they’re still deployed in Iraq or Afghanistan?
There are toll-free numbers that people can call, and e-mails. I tried calling those and e-mailing them, and it was out of order every time I called it. That’s one of things that people talk about, how the worst part was not the sexual assault, it was how they were treated afterward—that they were making a big deal out of nothing or “That’s what you get for being in a man’s army. You shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” or “That’s all you’re good for is to service male personnel.” And people are also afraid that it will destroy their career. People that have volunteered and want a career in this, they’re told, “Well, if you report this you’ll be seen as a nutcase and you’ll never advance, or you’ll be seen as a troublemaker.” A lot of people are going to civilian mental health people because they’re afraid they won’t be believed, or they’ll be punished somehow if they go to the VA.

Is anything being done to help the perpetrators with their problem?
Well, frequently what happens is that the victim gets transferred; the perpetrators, their lives don’t change much. Part of that is because base commanders take it personally if something like this happens, because it happened on their watch, and they don’t want to look bad. And so a lot of people are told, “Just work it out between the two of you, or we’ll transfer one of you, and don’t make an official report.” You can get help without making a report.’

What is the VA doing about all of this?
Some hospitals really get it and have somebody that’s identified as [the go-to person]. They have brochures that are out in waiting rooms. There’s still a huge stigma in that some people will say, “You ought to not have this person specialize, because then everybody knows if you go to see that person what you’re going to see them for.” We already know that combat veterans with posttraumatic stress disorder are afraid they’ll be stigmatized if they seek help for their PTSD from combat, and then you add sexual abuse in there and it’s even more of a stigma. A lot of guys that have PTSD from combat also have the sexual abuse. That’s one of the risk factors. Someone who has experienced childhood sexual abuse, or abuse as an adult, and then is exposed to combat is more likely to develop posttraumatic stress disorder.

How has military sexual abuse changed as the armed forces have changed?
The military culture has changed. It’s an all-volunteer army, for one thing. You get people who want to be there, instead of just draftees. You’re getting more women, and that’s changing the culture. The topic of sexual abuse, generally, is less taboo … it’s not one in a million cases. We know that historically, over the last 60 years, one in a hundred male veterans reported they were sexually assaulted while in the military. And, of course, that’s underreported, because sexual abuse itself is the most underreported crime.

Interview: Ken Burns on WWII Vets [Part 3]

David Botti — Fri, 02 Nov 2007 14:11:11 GMT

Today's post is the last in a three-part series of interviews with filmmaker Ken Burns. His 15-hour documentary, "The War," looked at life on the battlefield and homefront during WWII. Excerpts:

S.H.: What was it like living with the images of war for six years during the making of the film?

BURNS: It was very very tough. I mean we like to say, and it’s a dishonor to anyone within the sound of my voice who’s actually experienced combat, to say we used to have kind of our own minor versions of PTSD because we had to look at horrible footage. We looked at thousands of hours of footage to get our 15 hours of film. We looked at tens of thousands of still photographs, some of the most gruesome carnage. And while our film is difficult to watch, and shows in an unmitigated, unmediated fashion the horror of war, nonetheless it isn’t the worst we’ve seen.

We didn’t want to gratuitously shock anybody. There are difficult images, but we left the most difficult images of children, of women, of soldiers deeply maimed, guts spilling out on the battlefield, of the worst kind of depravity that takes place in war, out of our film. But we ourselves had to find out what it was like. And we’d often, many of us, recount the stories of in the editing process, the long solitary editing process, of going home at night and dreaming--finding ourselves not just filmmakers in the editing room trying to solve the problems of the Battle of Peleliu, for example, or the Battle of the Bulge, but finding ourselves in that battle. [We were] realizing, ‘wait a second, we’re filmmakers without guns--why are we here?’ And waking up in cold sweats with nightmares, coming in hollow-eyed with sleep and finding out the editor, or producer across the table had felt the same thing, or something similar in a different battle.

It was very difficult, but what kept us going, and I don’t mean to play up any real difficulties--we had the luxury of being at home, none of us were called up to do the actual fighting that takes place--is that we were compelled along, carried along, buoyed by the stories that we had collected. [From] the 40-odd people that we’d gotten to know intimately, people we’d said in our early boiler plate language paid lip service to the notion that these people would be like family members, somebody you might have had Thanksgiving with. By the end I can tell you that they do feel like family members. We lost Earl Burke. We lost Ray Leopold in the last few months. And we all felt a great deal of sadness as if someone really close to us had died. With Ray Leopold, from Waterbury, I actually broke down and cried, as if it had been my own grandfather.

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Interview: Ken Burns on WWII Vets [Part 2]

David Botti — Thu, 01 Nov 2007 14:56:25 GMT

Yesterday Soldier’s Home posted the first in a three-part series of interview excerpts from a discussion with filmmaker Ken Burns. His new seven-part documentary, "The War," follows the WWII generation on the battlefields and on the home front. In the previous post we learned how Burns went about interviewing veterans on the emotional subject of their wartime experiences. Today’s excerpts:

S.H.: One of the veterans said something in the film that really struck me. He said, “you don’t expect death among people your own age.”

BURNS: Yes, that was Sam Hynes who is professor emeritus of literature from Princeton University. Sam got it very very well. What happens is that young men do the fighting because they’re the ones who particularly have a sense of their own immortality, their own invincibility. That’s why most car accidents are teenagers, 17 or 18-years-old, who think they can drive as fast as they want and [then] can’t make that turn. And we read the tragedies almost daily in our newspapers.

We actually enlist young men to do the fighting and the dying, because they have that willingness to do the stuff that we just look back and say I can’t believe he’d do that. I think [Sam] began to understand that moment that other soldiers described of arriving going, ‘I have no fear, but when the fighting started, yikes, what have I gotten into.’

Here is this notion that as the war began to grind on in the first year, and the casualties mounted, that this was a real thing. Only old people, he said, die. But, suddenly people your own age were dying and it wasn’t too far a leap to realize that you too may die. And then all of the sudden that limitlessness that we feel, however myopically, that we’re going to live forever is suddenly very really ripped from you. And war becomes a wholly different thing. ‘Yes I could die. We’re all gonna die. But it’s gonna to happen to grandpa and great-grandpa, it’s not gonna happen to me.'

This is a huge metaphysical calculus that we couldn’t possibly really truly understand, and we hope by approaching war to get a sense, get a glimmer of what it’s like.

S.H.: I’ve heard from some veterans of the current war that sometimes they’re uncomfortable with the fact that it defines them. They are defined as veterans of the Iraq war. Did you find anything similar among WWII vets?

BURNS: Well no, I think that we’re dealing with this unbelievably powerful, healing, and merciless thing called time. That these guys came back from the Second World War, didn’t want to be defined by it, and basically shut up. We’re a non-therapeutic society, nobody really wants to know the answer to the question, ‘what did you do in the war Daddy, or son.’ They just don’t want to really know what happens: ‘well, I just turned around and my best friend, a guy I wish you could know – my very best friend in the world, I just watched his head get blown off.’ You can’t tell your mom you can’t tell your pop. You lock it away and you get on with life.

Towards the end of your life you begin to realize how much you were defined by that. That who you were, good and bad, and otherwise, is defined by an experience of war.

When Quentin Aanenson on the stage of the Lincoln Theater in Washington, D.C. a few weeks ago mentioned that with each “Star-Spangled Banner” [he heard], he went through the list of his close friends who died, he was in the presence of a Vietnam War veteran and an Iraq and Afghanistan veteran. When he finished, nearly in tears, the Iraq veteran turned to him and said, ‘Quentin, I feel like you are an echo of me, or I am an echo of you. That we are the same thing.’ It was as if it were the grandfather, the son, and the grandson that we had there.

[Part 1] [Part 3]

Interview: Ken Burns on WWII Vets [Part 1]

David Botti — Wed, 31 Oct 2007 14:06:33 GMT

Last month filmmaker Ken Burns debuted his seven-part World War II documentary on PBS, "The War," an epic chronicle of combat and home front experiences. I spoke with him this week at the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism about working with veterans during the six years of production on the film. Today’s is the first post in a multi-part series. Excerpts:

S.H.: For The Veterans History Project you gave advice to regular people interviewing veterans in their own families. You talked about establishing a “comfort zone” for the interview. How did you do this with vets you interviewed for The War?

BURNS: What we look for at the essence of an interview is free exchange. We aren’t investigative journalists. We aren’t there with their tax returns for the last ten years grilling them. This dynamic is most critical when you’re interviewing veterans, because quite often you’re dealing with people who have, understandably, locked away horrific things that they’ve seen, and horrific things that they’ve done–and people they’ve had close to them that they’ve lost.

You have to be respectful and mindful of the fact that they may not get there. That they may not reveal that. And there’s no amount of trickery or cajolery worth it to try to do that.

So, what we look for is to film them in a comfortable situation. To do so in places where they feel comfortable, to be non-threatening, but to also pursue questions, and not just have a rigorous set of questions, so that you might miss following up on something that was quite meaningful.

A particular veteran [Quentin Aanenson] in our films said “I loved airplane flying when I was a kid, that’s where I want to go–that’s where I want to be sometime.” But if you watch his eye crinkles you know that’s not where he wanted to be. That what he saw when he eventually became a pilot was so horrible. And so we moved–we just tested him, and he gave up stuff his wife had never heard, his children had never heard before. Maybe I missed lots of stuff he would’ve told me.

I was with him in a public discussion a year after we finished the film, and he told us something he had never said on film: that he’s lived outside of Washington D.C. for the last 50 years, and every time he and his son went to a Washington Redskins football game, as he was singing "The Star-Spangled Banner," he went through all the friends that he lost in the war. He never told his son, never told anyone else, and as he began to tear up in an audience of his sons and all the other people, you began to realize that you were present once again at the very thing you hope to have, not just with veterans but with anybody.

Particularly with veterans because they are getting at the dynamic of combat and a war–the most exaggerated state that human beings get. Not something that’s distant, but something that’s present.

This is a guy who wakes up most every night from nightmares, from the Second World War, done for him for 60 years, with his hands in a palsy, in a shake because he’s remembering the time when he caught some Germans out in the open and was cutting human beings in half with his 50mm machine guns off his Thunderbolt [fighter plane].

He still has this. His wife always reads him as he comes into the kitchen, and will sometimes hand the cup of coffee to the other hand.

Sometimes I found with a veteran [Paul Fussell], a man who’s actually written about war, and is known as kind of a well-spoken and avuncular chronicler of the human experience of war–I found myself saying, 'I’m not interested in that.'

I’m interested in you as a 19-year-old lieutenant on the line whose average life expectancy was 17 days, and you didn’t take a shower, or brush your teeth, or change your clothes in six months. And you outlived those odds until you were severely wounded, and they moved you to the head of the line, and patched you up for the invasion of Japan which fortunately did not happen otherwise you would’ve gone mad.

I just said to him at some point early on “you saw bad things.” And the chin, almost like a little boy, started to quake. The eyes started to crinkle up, and for the next several reels of film he gave us priceless access to that 19-year-old–who is as present in his own memories as he is today at 80-years-old.

That’s what we were after in the film. It required a kind of direct unmediated contact with people and their now recently expressed, or just expressed, memories.

[Part 2] [Part 3]

Interview: Love and Two Sides of a Deployment (Part 2)

David Botti — Thu, 18 Oct 2007 14:45:13 GMT

Earlier in the week I interviewed Erica, the wife of Jim, a fellow Marine from my old unit. I asked about her experiences being in a relationship with Jim while he was deployed to Iraq in 2003. Today we have my interview with Jim. Among the things he talks about is leaving her a knife to keep at home, family drama, and a surge of anger while eating at a diner.

S.H.: You became engaged shortly before deploying to Iraq. How did the deployment influence your decision?

Jim: It definitely pushed up the time frame. I had purchased the ring, but was waiting for the right time to give it to her. When I heard that we were getting deployed, it seemed like the right time.

S.H.: In the days leading up to your deployment, what types of conversations were you having about your relationship?

Jim: I recall not really wanting to talk about it. I was willing to go, but didn't want to deal with the goodbyes. So, I pretty much pretended like it was known to be an absolute certainty that everything would be alright. She would say something to me, and I would brush it off with a simple "everything will be fine."

S.H.: How did being in a relationship back home influence your morale during the deployment?

Jim: It was nice to know that someone was home waiting for me, so in that regard it helped my morale. Erica was always good about sending letters and packages--let me know that she cared. On the other hand, it was also hard sometimes. I wanted to focus solely on the job at hand, but would worry about her, and what was going on in her life. She had a lot going on at the time. She was finishing college, her mother was sick, and there was other family drama at home.

S.H.: Did you worry about her being home alone?

Jim: Not really, but I left her my K-Bar [large Marine Corps knife].

S.H.: What were the phone calls home to her like?

Jim: She was always very excited to hear from me. So, they were good in that respect--they made me feel loved. I remember that the first call that we had somehow ended up discussing family drama. It left a sour taste in my mouth, and I told her that I didn't want to discuss these matters until I came home. We didn't talk about that stuff in any other conversation. Other than that our conversations were normal. We discussed what was going on in each other's lives. They were like conversations that any other long distance couple would have had.

S.H.: What were things like between the two of you when you returned home?

Jim: I recall dreading the return home. I wanted to be home, but I didn't want to deal with the transition from Iraq to home--I wanted to magically wake up back in my old life. The actual day that we got back was hard. The whole family was there, and everyone wanted to spend time with me--it was a little overwhelming.

Erica and I went away for a week, just to relax and hang out. We had a pretty good time, and after that week things felt more normal.

Things weren't completely normal though. I recall getting extremely mad over little things. I actually got really mad at Erica on our trip when she accidentally dropped a chair down the stairs. I was yelling at her. Looking back, I feel bad about that.

I also recall wanting to yell at an old woman. We were at a diner, and apparently, at this diner you form a gaggle--sort of wannabe line--instead of giving the hostess your name. So, Erica and I waded through the gaggle and gave the hostess our name and the number of people in our party. As we were being seated, this old woman comes out from the gaggle and rudely says: "there's a line you know." I didn't do anything--I just walked to my seat, but this little incident made me extremely angry.

I don't think that I have ever been that angry in my entire life. It physically hurt, and I thought that if I could just hurt that woman, I would feel better. Erica knew me pretty well, and she could see in my face that I was angry. She could still see it later that afternoon. The point is that I had a much shorter fuse, that she knew it, and that this put a strain on the relationship.

It was tough, but we got through it.

Interview: Love and Two Sides of a Deployment (Part 1)

David Botti — Tue, 16 Oct 2007 13:50:55 GMT

NEWSWEEKS’s recent cover story on marriages between Iraqis and Americans, prompted me to take another look at relationships and war. I called upon my good friend Jim, a fellow Marine Reservist who served with me throughout two mobilizations.

I saw many relationships between Marines and their significant others fail in dramatic ways. One Marine was told by his fiancée at our welcome home ceremony from Iraq that she’d been cheating on him the entire time he was deployed. The wedding was off.

Jim and his wife, Erica, college sweethearts, were among those couples that made it. They remained together throughout Jim's two reserve mobilizations, and were married in 2006.

What follows is an email interview with Erica about her relationship experiences during the deployment. In the next few days I’ll be posting my interview with Jim.

S.H.: You became engaged shortly before Jim deployed to Iraq. How did the deployment influence your decision to do this?

ERICA: My initial reaction to him asking me to marry him was, "I don't need a ring to wait for you.” I thought that may have been a big reason for him to propose. His response to me was, "I know you don't need it, that is why you are getting it."

His deployment didn't make my decision, I knew forever that I wanted to marry him. I think the deployment did determine the timing of our engagement though.

S.H.: In the days leading up to Jim’s deployment, what types of conversations were you having about your relationship?

ERICA: Honestly–it was all business mostly. Finances, things that he needed me to take care of after he left (school loans, credit cards, banking info). Of course, there were many conversations about love, and future, but mostly we tried to keep things as normal as possible prior to the deployment.

S.H.: Describe your last words to each other before deploying.

ERICA: Well, the first time he deployed [to Camp Lejeune, NC in 2002] we hugged, kissed, and he turned on his heal, walked away, and didn't look back. The second time he deployed [to Iraq in 2003], I wished him well, told him I loved him more than anything–not to worry about anything at home, and I left. I couldn't watch him walk away from me a second time–it was too hard.

S.H.: What was the first night like alone, after Jim left for Iraq?

ERICA: There was a lot of crying, and I remember waking up a great deal during the night. To be honest, I think I kept looking for him.

S.H.: What were the hardest moments for you while he was gone?

ERICA: Graduating from college without him. It was the biggest milestone of my life, and he wasn’t there.

S.H.: Did his deployment affect your daily routine, and interactions with other people?

ERICA: Yes–especially in the beginning. I lost some friends because they weren't going through the same thing as me, and they just couldn't hear it anymore. I did talk about him quite a bit, and my fears that he would get hurt.

S.H.: What were the phone calls home from Jim like?

ERICA: Well the first one I wasted because I cried the entire time–but the next few calls were wonderful. Very chatty, and personal. You really loose a lot in letters. Nothing was greater than hearing his voice those few times while he was overseas.

S.H.: Did you ever talk about your relationship with girlfriends/spouses/fiancés of other Marines?

ERICA: Yes, and most of us are all still great friends.

S.H.: What were things like between the two of you when he returned home?

ERICA: When Jim first came home we went away for a few days, which was amazing. I had felt more in love than in the beginning of our relationship. I was finally at ease–and slept better than I had in months!

But after we got back, and things were starting to resume what was supposed to be "back to normal", things became a little strange. I really thought that it was going to be an easier transition for him coming back home.

He really seemed angry, and he carried himself around with that sort of angry attitude. We fought a bit more than we usually did too. I had graduated college while Jim was away, and moved out of our home, and took a job back in New York–so nothing was really the same at home when Jim came back, nothing was how he had left it. I really think that made the transition more difficult.

I would say it took a few weeks, or a month, for him to be back to himself, and for our relationship to get back to normal.