“Yes.” When Molly used the word, she felt the conversation take a turn, a heaviness in the air. He was still answering, but she could feel a layer of tension that hadn’t existed before. She pictured a soldier lying on his stomach behind camouflage aiming a special long distance rifle with a fancy scope methodically killing enemy soldiers, one by one. It gave her the shivers. What would that do to a man?
“Is this hard to talk about?”
“This part is okay, but I’ll start deferring pretty soon.”
Molly took a drink and paused. Okay, this was getting heavy. Did she want to go on? It was pretty clear that this was a difficult subject.
She asked again, “Are you sure you’re okay to talk about this?”
“My therapist encourages me to talk about it with people I trust. I will trust you until I have reason not to. So far, I’m enjoying our time together, and, yes, I trust you. So, you’re welcome to ask a few more questions.”
“You have a therapist?”
“Yes, for soldiers who come home with severe PTSD, the VA has a recovery program that includes a therapist. In my case, I’m required to meet with her at least four times a year.”
“So those would be four times you’d come out of the mountains.”
“Yes. I’m on a military disability. So long as I’m on the disability, I have to participate in the program.”
“Where’s your therapist and what’s her name?”
“Joint Base Lewis McCord near Tacoma. That’s where I did my recovery, and that’s how I ended up in Washington State. Her name is Gloria.”
“How long were you in the program?”
“A year in the residential program. I’m still in the program but now have more freedom. I’m required to see my therapist and undergo periodic testing.”
“Oh, boy. So this gets pretty heavy.”
“Yeah, sorry. We don’t have to talk about it.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to know a little more.” He nodded, and she continued, “Is your living off-the-grid related to the PTSD?”
“Yes.”
“Is that on advice of your therapist?”
“Not really. She’s not against it for now. I think she feels it’s been good for me so far. But she doesn’t want me to make it permanent.”
“She wants you to eventually re-enter society.”
“Yes.”
“How about you?”
“I know it must sound easy to you, but for me, it’s not. I like it out there. It’s safe and peaceful. I love being in the wild. I feel at home. One of the army’s specialties is survival training, and I really liked it. So I’m trained for this, and it’s comfortable to me. I’m happy out there.”
“And being down here?”
“Civilization and people introduce dynamics that can be problematic for the PTSD.”
“Can you give me an example?”
“I’ll give you a real life example, then maybe that’s all we need to talk about tonight.”
“Okay.”
“One of my closest friends in the Rangers, Roddy, came home with the same problems as me. We served side by side and went through the recovery program together. One night several years ago he was in a bar drinking with friends when a drunk guy started abusing his lady. The guy was swearing at her, andat one point, he slapped her. Roddy confronted him. The man took a swing, and Roddy lost it. The PTSD kicked in. Long story short, Roddy killed the man on the spot. It took him about twenty seconds. He was trained to kill. He’d been in Afghanistan for six years. He’d killed hundreds in combat. He’s among the Rangers’ most elite fighting machines. A drunk guy in a bar had no chance against someone like Roddy. When the switch got flipped, Roddy reverted to combat.”
