So I'm going to give this another go.
I don't have combat experience, just the law enforcement side of the house. From talking with folks who've done both their are similarities but also major differences, of course. Policing a violent area is mostly less intense stress but strung out over decades, so while the roller coaster may not go as high or as low nearly as often, it's a lot longer ride. The 'after stress' is different in that you've got the cloud of lawsuits, grand juries, depositions, etc. over your head for months to years. You are expected to go right back to caring about stolen dog reports and playing nice with drunk assholes in days to weeks. My dept used to give you 3 days then you were back to work. Now it's a much lengthier process due to a few, and one in particular, bad outcomes.
I have two major 'incidents' specific to killing. One was very difficult and, in the end, I was told I didn't kill him. It was an in custody death, and I've told the story before and won't rehash it other than to say I sustained significant, but not remotely life threatening, injuries during the fight and the guy died shortly thereafer in the sheriff's department's custody. I had no idea what killed him, and didn't for years. Nobody would tell me anything. I was sued, of course. I had a recording (luckily) that absolved me but I still had years of "what ifs". What if I'd just cut him loose? What if I'd talked to him longer? What if I'd used different techniques? I felt responsible for the course that lead to his death and I didn't mean for him to die. I was already deep in my own head due to some other nasty runs. A toddler shot through the neck with a rifle round, as an example. I had anger issues, to put it mildly, and if someone wanted to fight I was completely game. I was not one of those guys who created resisters, well maybe once, but if someone did the "take these handcuffs off me and see what happens" shit I'd take them off. Literally none of them fought, by the way. Posturing dicks. But anyway after the in custody thing I was worried for my job, worried that I was too eager to fight and maybe if I'd tried talking him down longer, etc. I became even more of a asshole. I was an asshole to everybody I knew at some point, but my wife got the worst of it. I don't know why she put up with my shit. I wouldn't have. I would go from sullenly sitting in my chair to ranting about some nonsense to just completely ignoring her in a day.
The only person I was not a dick to fairly routinely was my son. Honestly, I think I'd have had a very different outcome if I didn't have a child at that time. I did my level best not to rant and kick shit and be an asshole in front of him, but I slipped up once and he saw me throwing shit around in the garage and ranting about some nonsense. I don't know, the self checkout line wasn't working fast enough or something equally stupid. I looked at him and for the first time ever I saw him looking at me with fear. I scared my own son. I was never physically abusive, I didn't shout at him, etc but I was just a force of destruction and, like a tornado, anyone with any sense was afraid when they saw it coming toward them. It broke my heart because it made me confront what an asshole I really was. Not a gruff just doing my job asshole. But a broken asshole who was scaring a small child. That was my wake up to do better. And I did. The book I listed above helped, talking to peers helped, apologizing to people I was an asshole to and trying to not be helped.
Now, on to the second incident, which again I've discussed in greater detail elsewhere and won't rehash here. The barest facts was a suspect in my partner's case shot a cop non-fatally, was the rare bad guy who had plenty of reloads, lead a wild-ass pursuit, had multiple gunfights, and at his final stand I flanked him and shot him as he attempted to engage other cops at a different angle who also shot him. I was very close and sent two rifle rounds into his chest.
That killing did not bother me. In fact, it bothered me so little I was bothered by how little I was bothered, if that makes sense. Moving past it meant learning to live with normal amounts of adrenaline again. It was such an intense experience that going back to mundane life was like the Wizard of Oz in reverse, going from color to black and white. I felt entirely justified, I was treated like a hero by my peers and celebrated for my role, I had that "shared responsibility" of not being the only person who shot him. I was not sued. I was in no danger of criminal charges. I was just fighting the feeling of real life is now boring and nothing captures my attention for long. Then I was chasing that feeling again. My wife was always on me for putting myself in the shit spots, but I had to. I felt compelled to be in the shit. She was constantly asking me to get off the street because she knew I was chasing those hairy situations. When the guy threw the machete at me, it hit her very hard. She was crying telling me she knew I was going to be in another shooting because I kept putting myself in situations that were dangerous, I had to go to every run, I had to lead from the front...and she was right. I didn't want to kill again, any asshole can kill. Children do it. I wanted that feeling again, that celebration of being the hero, of knowing I did it and could do it, that when the chips were down I was someone who could be counted on to kill or not kill as appropriate. I knew I was good at it and sheltered those who I didn't think would be, I would always take lethal cover because I would rather go through the shit again then see one of my young officers go through it.
So, why was I, arguably, so much better with the purposeful shooting? It was on purpose and for a reason that I and others agreed was a good one. I did not have the "Thou Shalt Not Kill" upbringing. I grew up in a hillbilly culture where "he needed shooting" was a reasonable argument. If someone needed shot and everyone agreed, that was good and right and something a man just did. My shooting checked those boxes, though I didn't think of it in that way at the time. I think the majority of modern people are insulated from death. It's prettied up for them. They don't kill and butcher their own animals. Professionals wash and tend and dress up their dead family members. There's obviously major differences in slaughtering a chicken to eat vs killing a man, but it's still some exposure to death and killing and the responsibility and finality and how un-pretty dying tends to be.
I was older. I was more prepared for the aftermath. I had already been 'fire hardened' by stress and similar experiences, I had read and researched and spoke to enough people I knew what to expect. And, I had Jerry. Jerry was not a peer, he was better than me. He'd been through it multiple times and in a time when fewer resources were available. Hed walked the path before hand and could tell me where the potential pitfalls were. Jerry was who I aspired, and still, aspire to be in many ways. Jerry helped a ton, and he's dead now and I miss him a lot. If you can get yourself a Jerry, get one. It's worth it.
I had a solid support structure.
I completely buy the WW2 boat idea, but I would also add I think there was very little doubt that they were justified. After seeing the concentration camps, especially, surely they felt the righteousness of their killing. There was no "was this worth it" and public knowledge and support was high. They had so many peers just due to the percentage that had served. I don't think the killing is really the root. I think the 'why' of the killng is the root. And I think that's why I dealt so poorly with the in custody vs the police action. I couldn't answer "why", I couldn't justify the need for him to die, I didn't have that 'fuck him, he died because he chose that path' out.
None of this is to say I'm totally normal and well adjusted. Or ever was. But I'm pretty damned ok, I think, and I can now recognize when I'm on the edge of stupid and wanting to knock over a display case because they don't have my flavor of yogurt, laugh at myself for what a dumbass I'm being, take a breath, text my wife I love her, and just pick some shitty flavor.
Sorta around sometimes for some of your shitty mod needs.
I always thought that going from combat, and into a police department might help transition. This Vietnam Vet became a San Francisco police officer right after coming back from ‘Nam. He said he was handed an M16 as a police officer, and it allowed him to gradually reintegrate. The interview was conducted in 1989.
I would definitely say it is both. Being able to decompress is huge. Doing so among guys who are also winding down from going through similar experiences helps considerably.
In modern times we come home and go from a state of being super switched on, and we are expected to just turn that off. I found that I really did not want to leave the house for at least 24-48 hours, as I found myself doing really dumb/aggressive things in terms of my driving. I was not letting people get beside me in traffic, making sudden lane changes when I went under an overpass. If I got jammed up at a light, I was immediately looking for an out. Looking for suspicious packages on the side of the road. etc. Those are just some minor things, but it gets the point across. I needed a couple days at home just doing nothing to tell myself I was being a dumbass and to relax and go get the groceries/ run the errands like I was supposed to.
As time progresses though and you get better at what you do, you can separate your two lives, but it takes a good bit of time and experience. It all takes a toll though. Sleeping issues are certainly one of those areas, as has been discussed.
Off topic from the intent of the therad, I think, but isn't Grossman's writings considered rather psuedo-scientific, particularly since it's much of it based off of the problematic studies conducted by SLA Marshall? His arguments that video games perpetuate violence is definitely gets a lot of eye rolls.
I have zero fighting experience and I don't pretend to understand what it's like to killing and deal with it. I have watched a lot of Sean Ryan's interviews with SF guys and it is amazing what combat veterans have to go through in combat and dealing with the aftermath of killing the bad guys. The take aways I have gleaned from these interviews is that all combat veterans who have taken a life have almost the exact same psychological effects. A lot of veterans think there is something wrong with them for having these problems after combat. I think it would be a good thing if warfighters would talk with one another about their experiences with the aftermath of killing. It would be helpful to you that you are not alone in your mental struggles. I also think it is a huge disservice to call PTS a disorder. It is a natural effect of being in extremely dangerous and extraordinary situations. We should not be treating warfighters or others with PTS as if there is something wrong with them.
I have a deep regret that I did not serve my country in the armed services and I want you all who did serve to know that I have great respect for you doing what you had to do to take the fight to the enemy in far away lands. I pray for you and hope that you can one day lay your burdens down in the peace that passes all understanding.
Jesus paid a debt he did not owe,
Because I owed a debt I could not pay.
Tom Satterly, 20 year veteran of Delta, argues that the word "disorder" should be removed from the term PTSD as it applies to combat veterans (and I suspect other people). His point is that it is no disorder to experience post-traumatic stress for many situations.. He wrote about his personal struggles in his autobiography "All Secure." Personal struggles is an understatement. He was ready to take his own life. https://www.foxnews.com/lifestyle/co...-ptsd-strength
Vaguely remember that dude. Many of the Sgts, Lieutenants and FTOs when I came in were Vietnam vets. Good solid dudes all.
I worked at the same station Bowman describes in the film for years. It hasn't changed. Still the world's biggest Outpatient Clinic. It was also bombed by the Weather Underground in the early 70s. The Station Keeper (booking sergeant) was killed in the blast. Apparently, Bernardine Dohrn was considered a leading auspect,, but the bombing was never solved.
@Lost River, @BehindBlueI's @Giving Back.. @Wake27
THANK YOU.
Smart-ass remark removed, even though it would have taken in the manner intended...
pat
Last edited by UNM1136; 10-02-2022 at 04:20 AM.