Two days ago I posted a photograph depicting PTSD because it has taken the lives of more American service personnel than those killed in action in both Iraq and Afghanistan combined.
Yesterday, a military friend contacted me for the first time in 35 years. We talked about good times and other friends from way back then. One of the people we spoke of was a friend from the Air Force who while at school had a seizure and was medically being discharged when I left for overseas.
My friend told me that this other friend had committed suicide after I left. This young man had survived the physical rigors of basic training and the mental stress of learning the Korean language and had his dreams of serving in the military smashed on the rocks due to a unknown ailment. Having all his hopes and dreams snatched from him at the age of 20 seemed unsurmountable to him and for that he ended his life.
Although he had been gone for 35 years, just now learning about it left me in a funk for several hours yesterday and today my heart aches for this buddy while my mind cannot wrap itself around the measures he took.
To Airman Comstock, I raise my glass and hope you found peace.