Army combats suicide
surge in its ranks

 
Article by: , Star Tribune

Updated: June 15, 2011 - 7:05 AM

 
The text message from the young soldier to
his mom ended with a short, shocking vow.

"I'm going to take my life. Sorry.''

Jeremy Campbell wrote it sitting alone inside
a roadside room at the Comfort Suites hotel
in Urbana, Ill., the day last September that he
fled his Army base 300 miles away in
Kentucky, despondent and ashamed.

Then he drank two bottles of cough syrup,
put on his headphones, and lay down.

From her home in Cloquet, Minn., a
frightened Corinne Campbell alerted military
officials. With the help of cellphone tracking,
they closed in on her son's location. A few
hours later, police and medics burst into his
hotel room and rushed him to a hospital.

Jeremy's life had been saved.

Or so it seemed.
 
• • •

After 10 years of continuous warfare, the U.
S. military is taking mounting losses. But
most of its troops are now dying by their
own hands -- not in battle with Al-Qaida or
the Taliban.

Including members of the Reserve and
National Guard, more service members killed
themselves last year than died in combat.
The suicide rate of National Guard soldiers
and Reservists nearly doubled in the last
year alone -- and statistics suggest that
Minnesota has one of the higher rates in the
nation. Overall, military suicides have hit
record levels.

"Simply stated, we are often more dangerous
to ourselves than the enemy," a 2010 Army
report concluded.

As the toll increases, so do questions about
how military leaders are responding.

Interviews with family members of Minnesota
soldiers who have ended their own lives
during the past few years and a review of
hundreds of pages of documents obtained
through the Freedom of Information Act
suggest that the Army often misses red flags
regarding the mental health of its soldiers or
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doesn't adequately address such cases after
they come to light.

They are cases like Jacob Fairbanks, a St. Paul
native who was sent to continue a second
tour in Iraq after telling a doctor and social
worker at Fort Campbell that he had suicidal
thoughts. Fairbanks also had sought
counseling for marital problems and
depression, but his commanders in Iraq
were not alerted or told that he had been
given a prescription for an antidepressant.
Fairbanks killed himself with a gunshot to
the head.

An Army report on his suicide concluded
that the lack of communication between Fort
Campbell officials and Fairbanks'
commanders in Iraq was "cause for
considerable reflection and concern.''

Military commanders routinely face
discipline for other failures, but there is no
evidence that any officer has ever been held a
ccountable for a military suicide, even when
warning signs were apparent. Instead,
internal investigations commonly conclude
that while the Army as a whole needs to do
better, no individual bears blame.

Meanwhile, grieving families seeking more
information about a soldier's suicide are
 
routinely given military incident reports
pockmarked by blacked-out names and
details. Left to play amateur detective, they
sometimes arrive at their own, more hopeful
conclusions -- it must have been an
accident, a stray bullet, something other
than suicide.

"I feel like nobody cared enough to find out
what happened to him," said Jacob Fairbanks'
mother, Jan, who has pored over three
volumes of reports provided to her. "I've
been asking questions and doing my own
investigating. Why can't I see what the
military sees? I want to believe that they
know best, they did a good job of
investigating. I want to know that I put them
in charge of my son and they took care of
him. And I don't see that."

Military records also show that the suicides
in its ranks often defy the stereotype of
battle-haunted soldiers unable to shake
images of bloodshed from their minds.

One-third of the suicides at Fort Campbell
involved soldiers who, like Jeremy Campbell,
had never served overseas, much less in a
war zone. Soldiers with one or no
deployments represent 70 percent of all
military suicides, with 60 percent occurring
during a soldier's first enlistment.
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In testimony to Congress last year, Gen.
Peter Chiarelli, the Army vice chief of staff
who has been in the service for nearly four
decades, framed the challenge the military
has to reduce soldier suicides and better
diagnose and treat those who need help in
stark, urgent terms.

"I have never dealt with a more difficult or
critical mission,'' Chiarelli said.

• • •

False rescue

In the days after Jeremy Campbell nearly
ended his life inside an Illinois hotel room,
military officials sent him to a counseling
program for soldiers.

Warrior Wellness, they call it.

The 19-year-old recruit, a cherub-faced
former Eagle Scout and high school wrestler,
once told his mother that he dreamed of
becoming a brigadier general. He had been a
leader of his recruit class through months of
basic training and had a graduation medal to
show for it.

Now he wasunraveling.

 
He had fled Fort Campbell days earlier, after
failing to complete a 12-mile, full-pack
march in under three hours -- a
requirement for entrance into the Army's
rigorous air assault school, an opportunity
he coveted. It was the second time he had
failed.

As his outlook soured, Campbell began
saying he hated the Army, hated his unit,
that he planned to buy a gun and "blow my
head off."

He spent a week at the Skyline Medical
Center's Warrior Wellness program, a new
facility in Nashville that's about a 45-minute
drive from Fort Campbell. Designed to
address the special stresses of being a
soldier, the program emphasizes group
counseling amid the discipline of a military
setting.

Soldiers stay for seven to 10 days, then
return to their base for monitoring. In the
year since the program began, some
soldiers have returned for help six or seven
times -- creating suspicion among some
staff members that some soldiers are using
the pretext of suicidal thoughts to avoid
another deployment.

Officials who run the program have been
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told to expect an overflow of patients
exceeding the unit's 14 beds.

Jeremy Campbell was released from Skyline
back to Fort Campbell with prescriptions for
two antidepressants. He was kept on a 24-
hour watch for four days. Then he had a
follow-up visit at the base's mental health
unit. Leaders of the military police company
to which he was assigned were told that he
was no longer a risk to himself or others.

Still, Campbell was required to check in every
couple hours, a routine that chafed at his
pride.

One Sunday night last September,
Christopher Campbell spoke with his son by
phone. Nearly three weeks had passed since
Jeremy sent the suicidal text message to his
mother.

His father recalls Jeremy describing long
days training for deployment to Afghanistan.

What Jeremy didn't tell his dad was that
another 12-mile march loomed, at 3:45 the
next morning.

• • •

Counteroffensive
 
In 2004, 67 soldiers on active duty
committed suicide. By 2009, the number had
jumped to 162. Last year, 32 soldiers took
their own lives in the month of June, more
than one a day.

The Army reported a slight reduction last
year in the number of soldiers on active duty
who killed themselves -- from 162 to 156.
But the number of suicides among Guard
and Reserve soldiers not on active duty
nearly doubled, from 80 to 145.

Two years ago, leaders at Fort Campbell,
which is home to the famed 101st Airborne
Division, felt compelled to shut the base for
a three-day "suicide stand down" after 11
soldiers killed themselves over a span of five
months.

The situation didn't improve. By the end of
the year, Fort Campbell led the Army in
suicides with 21. Since then, the Army has
launched a broader counteroffensive to
prevent and treat suicidal tendencies in its
ranks.

It has hired hundreds of mental health and
substance abuse counselors. It is working
on a five-year, $50 million study with the
National Institute of Mental Health to identify
best practices for intervention in the lives of
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troubled soldiers. It is beefing up 24/7
teleconferencing and online programs for
soldiers in isolated areas. It also has
unveiled a suicide-prevention program
known as ACE -- ask, care and escort -- that
uses DVDs, handouts and tip cards to teach
soldiers and their families and friends how
to recognize and respond to suicidal
impulses.

"Suicide is one of those things that leaves
the survivors in the unit hanging. Sometimes
you don't know what causes it, what sets
them off,'' said Col. Roger Heath, the chief
chaplain at Fort Campbell.

Military units and family members, he said,
invoking an Army term, have to "police up
the battlefield."

But prevention plans and day-to-day
interactions among troubled soldiers and
their comrades and commanders can be as
dissimilar as battle plans and battlefield
conditions.

An Army report last year found that many
attempted suicides are not even reported
because they don't meet the criteria for b
eing included in the Defense Department's
database. That disclosure suggests that,
even as the military improves its suicide-
 
prevention program, the number of
attempted and completed suicides may be
under-reported.

A Defense Department report last year also
suggested that the newfound zeal for
attacking the military's suicide problem has
resulted in a mishmash of overlapping and
inefficient efforts.

"The urgency to respond to the challenges
of suicide may have driven the services to
deploy many of these initiatives without the
benefit of strategic planning, evaluation,
standardization, or plans for sustainment," it
concluded.

• • •

Gunshot at dawn

Jeremy Campbell's cellphone rang at 4:15
the morning of the long march he had twice
failed.

The caller was his platoon sergeant,
wondering where he was.

Campbell told him that he was in his
barracks. The sergeant told Campbell he
knew that wasn't true. Then Campbell said he
didn't know where he was. He hung up.
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A couple of hours later, he texted his father:
"To you I am sorry that I was not strong
enough to carry on the family name this is
my biggest regret. I love you very much.''

Back in Cloquet, the Campbells saw the text
and quickly responded:

"Please don't do this, honey, we love you."

Corinne Campbell sent six messages in all.
She heard nothing more.

Jeremy Campbell was sitting behind the
wheel of a car parked near a base gate when
police pulled up later that morning.

He had killed himself with a rifle he'd bought
two days earlier at Wal-Mart.

• • •

Star burst effect

Experience is teaching Army counselors new
lessons as they intensify their work to
prevent soldier suicides.

The fact that only about a third of the
suicides are among soldiers who have
served overseas, officials say, is a clear sign
of how many are unable to shed their civilian
 
troubles just by putting on a uniform.

Amid several years of sustained economic
difficulty around the country, the military at
all levels -- active duty, Guard and Reserve
-- is getting a larger share of commitments
from young people who are motivated as
much by the lack of other alternatives to
finding employment as by patriotism.

Some of them, in turning to the military as a
refuge from joblessness or a sense of
irrelevance, are finding that military service
can bring its own despair -- such as long
absences from loved ones and the financial
pressures of trying to manage slender
household budgets long-distance.

Army officials also say they have learned
that the first three months after a soldier
returns from a deployment can be especially
fraught with hazard.

Problems with re-integration into old
routines at home and their relationships
have become so common that the ensuing
mental and behavioral flameouts have
acquired their own shorthand in the military
-- what's being called a "star burst" effect.

Nationally, more than 50 percent of the
National Guard soldiers who killed
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themselves in 2010 were struggling with a
relationship problem at the time of their
deaths, said Lt. Col. John Echert, senior
chaplain at the Minnesota Air National
Guard's Minneapolis-based 133rd Airlift
Wing.

"It's not necessarily what the individual is
facing on deployment, but facing back
home,'' Echert said. More soldiers also seem
to be entering the ranks with a propensity
toward high-risk behaviors of all types.

The military is seeing an alarming increase in
illicit drug use, disciplinary infractions, and
felony and misdemeanor crimes. One in
every three suicides takes place under the
influence of drugs or alcohol, officials say,
and 32 percent occur among soldiers with
some form of closed or pending criminal
investigation.

Maj. Gen. Raymond Carpenter, the acting
director of the Army National Guard, said
that the Army cannot help but reflect the
problems that young men are having in
many communities.

"We are really kind of ... the canary in the
mine shaft,'' Carpenter said.

Even as the Army strives to provide more
 
help to troubled soldiers, the answers
remain elusive, the science of treatment
inexact.

"One year is, unfortunately, not a wide
enough snapshot'' to make predictions
about the long-term effectiveness of
prevention efforts, said Col. Chris Philbrick,
director of the Army's suicide prevention
task force.

Meanwhile, families who have lost loved ones
to suicide are asking tougher questions
about what went wrong -- or whether the
military response so far has been too little,
too late.

• • •

No one to blame?

Chris Campbell blames the last 12-mile
march at Fort Campbell for pushing his son
over the edge.

"To me, they really failed Jeremy by throwing
him back into that ruck march,'' Campbell
said. "To him, he would have never wanted to
fail that again.''

The Army reached the same conclusion,
noting Jeremy Campbell's week at the Skyline
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mental health facility shortly before the
march.

"It should have been highly discouraged to
schedule PFC Campbell for another road
march so soon, even if the unit believed that
PFC Campbell was motivated to train," the
report said.

The Army also concluded that no one in
Campbell's chain of command was informed
by counselors that he had talked of shooting
himself.

Still, no blame was assigned for the death of
a high-performing soldier who "allowed the
stress of change and recent failures to cloud
his judgment," the investigation concluded.

Corinne Campbell now wears her son's dog
tags. They are engraved with what is known
as the Warrior Ethos.

"I will always place the mission first. I will
never accept defeat. I will never quit. I will n
ever leave a fallen comrade," the pledge
reads.

She fingered the tags absently while talking
about her late son.

"I will never be the same again,'' she said.
 
Mark Brunswick • 612-673-4434

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