Strong Hope
Howdy,
About a year ago today, I was nearly finished with my month-long stay at the Looney Bin (mental health hospital). I like to jest about serious matters. It helps people talk about it a bit.
Four days before my all-expense paid vacation at Strong Hope, I handed off the guidon to a more than capable replacement at my old stomping grounds down south. I was a recently graduated squadron commander and took the biggest knee in the history of knees.
Not only were all the deployments bearing down on me, but so was the taxing work of helping Afghans get out of Afghanistan. I worked 24/7 for an entire year while juggling commanding 300+ Airmen conducting some fairly sensitive missions for the United States.
It messed with my sanity. When you play in the shadows, paranoia is built into the system. I don’t care what part of the intelligence community you’re part of—there’s always a sense that somewhere, someone is out to get ya, whether it be counterintelligence or foreign intelligence organizations.
So I started having hallucinations. It was heavy shit, bro. It wasn’t until I went to Strong Hope that I told anyone about it.
Anyone. Not even the lovely Charity knew. It was weird, and it scared the absolute shit out of me.
When I walked into Strong Hope, I was in a state that wasn’t pretty. For the next week or so, I’m going to write a lot about my time there. I need to remember what that was like.
Because out of all the decisions I made in my life, voluntarily admitting myself into psychiatric care was easily one of the top three: 1: Charity/daughter (and entire Kansas contingent) 2: Getting psychiatric treatment 3: Picking Bucky Boy, the world’s greatest dog, as my mo-fo.
I’m going to write a lot about moral injury because we’re launching a Moral Injury Support Group with our partners at Give an Hour. If you don’t remember them, no problem, I got you: here’s our episode with them on Spotify.
We’ve teamed up with them to offer a year-long moral injury support group. I think we’ve got almost 3 applicants, with more down the shoot. What I’m trying to tell ya is this: I don’t know how long the seats will last. If you want to chat about it, please just respond to this salvo, and we can talk it out.
Whether you know someone or not, do me a small favor and share our publication with someone you know. We would all appreciate even that small gesture of support.
Alizai Returns
Look, I get it; we need some audiovisual help. I promise we are in talks to level up. While we refine our product, I ask you to take a sample of the message. Do you want to learn about Afghanistan? Well, I have a suggestion: let the Afghans tell you about that magical land and why it’s important for you—all of us—to support the anti-Taliban resistance.
With that in mind,
, the Senior Editor at Bulwark, and I had the honor of talking to Alizai, the last Chief of General Staff for the Afghan National Army.Shir Zad’s Story
Loyal readers, Shir Zad, is one of the most impressive young men I’ve ever met. His story is powerful. I’m honored to have him here with us, building this movement. We’re going to talk about the wars fought in your name. We’re going to examine it from every angle. Shir Zad’s story is one of the first such articles that we will roll out during August as we remember the tragedy of that fateful month when many dreams were shattered.
Here comes the real struggle: balancing the career and personal life of an armed forces officer. Like anyone else, I never thought about sharing my life with someone else, and I was scared of how I would maintain the balance. I have one heart, and it was already filled with love for my nation. My fiancé, who is now my wife, is profoundly understanding, and it was significantly easier for me to maintain the balance.
I was at the peak of meeting new people, making connections, and helping my countrymen. Everything was working according to my plan, and then one day, the Taliban took over, and like anyone else, they surprised me, and I narrowly escaped death.
Shir Zad is an American hero. Full stop. You will read more such stories in the month ahead. Come and meet your newest neighbors who are happy to be here. . . but want to go home.
Will I can relate to this - working Afghan Evac you are in the company of a wide cast of characters in many group calls - information is shared and we often travel in closer circles than many might think. We communicate with each other try to message - eventually your name gets out there - you get calls from strangers - all hours - you start to wonder how vulnerable you are - you don’t talk about it but it’s something you often think about. You get a shadow ban a few threats and your mind plays tricks on you - it’s hard to know whose motives align - who to trust and in the back of your mid you know the horrible acts of violence you’ve seen the Taliban do they would gladly do to your friends the ones you know - who trust you - who have no one side to trust - this is Afghan Evac. The good things we do stay secret - the flip side of all the bad we talk about all the time. I don’t know where the faults lie - Doha the retrograde pullout - I know this however - it’s too early for after action Monday morning quarterbacks - there are still more than 100 000 SIV cases waiting in harms way not to mention the warriors with P-1’s - it ain’t over let’s worry about an assessment of blame for when the job is done.