Page 16 - Total War on PTSD

The thing is that it, at least for me, my journey continues to be a work in progress, and my writing is a huge part of that journey, as is my ability and my drive to help others towards their own recovery; whatever it takes.
Kandahar Airfield was supposed to be relatively secure but, in my opinion, that was bullshit. Screaming rockets and mortar rounds are unimpressed by perimeter fences and K9 patrols. Truth is it was a war zone where I and hundreds of thousands of other U.S. service personnel and civilian contractors experienced daily shocks that created PTSD, especially for the uninitiated. I was one of those, as I deployed after the main body of 3NCR did, being a late asset, as they were in need of an Administrative Officer and I didn’t have the time to go through the same training they did.
I’m no battle-hardened hero. I ran an administrative team. Let me take you back there. It’s been a pretty nice day — as long as you stay inside and don’t inhale too much of the dust that seeps into every crevice. My three to four team members (depending on timeframe) and I are wading through piles of sometimes repetitive but still vitally important paperwork when the obnoxiously loud siren on the pole just outside our building roars to life issuing a warning that forces us to do what has become almost automatic. We then hear the booming, pre-recorded, suspiciously calm and somewhat irritating (given the number of times I heard it during my deployment) female British voice saying declaring “Rocket Attack” three times over. After dropping to the floor for the requisite five minutes...give or take...we quickly secure our computers and exit the small office building, heading out to the bunkers that dot the sprawling airbase. We pack into the bunkers much like sardines, something that has made me claustrophobic to this
16 of 1042