Kittens

    This is a true story.

    I went to a military college.  Many of my friends are in the armed forces.  I am in the Army now, a second lieutenant, who will be deployed in another year.  Some of my friends were already in the military.  Many of them have already served overseas.  One of them was my friend, a Marine Reservist.  His unit got called up to deploy to Fallujah, Iraq and he left towards the end of his first semester sophomore year.  19 years old and a lance corporal fire team leader in Fallujah Iraq.  He returned to school halfway into junior year, his tour completed.  Everything picked up right where it left off.  He seemed just like his normal self.

    Later on, we began to notice changes in his behavior.  He was drinking a lot more than he ever had before.  Sometimes he would have sudden verbal out lashes.  He would turn almost hateful on us. But these incidents were few and infrequent.  Most of the time he seemed fine.  Then sometimes he would want nothing to do with us or would try deliberately to piss us off.  This was all very gradual, but it kept building.  Eventually, we knew something was wrong.

    One night after another episode of heavy drinking, he told one of us about his worst day in Iraq.  In a single day, three of his good friends were killed by a sniper.  I think he saw one of his friends actually get shot.  It was a while ago, and I can’t say for certain.  What I do know is that he saw the aftermath of what happened to all three.  I don’t ever want to have to see what he had to.  I don’t ever want to know what that feels like. 

    They were back out on patrol just a few days later.  During the first patrol since that incident, his squad was searching a house near the place where he lost his friends.  He said he remembered having a funny feeling about the place.  As the search continued, he uncovered a huge arms cache.  In that cache was a sniper rifle.  It was most likely the one that killed his friends.  He said they were going to write him up for a Bronze Star for discovering the weapons cache, but it must not have gotten approved because he never got one.

    That winter when he came back to school, he got two kittens.  Little black ones he got from the pound.  I think he named them Spooky and Skoo.  He kept them in his dorm room.  It was against the rules, but none of us ever cared much for rules and we were good at keeping secrets.  His roommate didn’t like it much, but he put up with it, knowing that he needed something that he could enjoy for a change.  Our cadet captain and first sergeant tolerated it as well, knowing that it made him happy.  It could be a little bit of a hassle though when it came time for room inspections, or when a commandant ever came through the halls. 

    Unfortunately it was no easy task taking care of a pet on campus, especially when you’re fairly immature and away at classes most of the day.  He still drank a lot and had a short fuse.  The kittens were young.  They would shit on the carpet or puke on his bed.  The room stank and there was cat hair everywhere.  Sometimes they would scratch up his clothes.  His room was usually a mess and the kittens didn’t help at all.  When they pissed him off, sometimes he would toss them around the room.  We told him not to, that it was bad for them, but he didn’t listen.  They would get scared and hide whenever he came into the room.  He started to dislike them more and more.

    One day his roommate came back from class to find that the room smelt particularly awful that day.  He found one of the kittens dead.  There was green stuff coming out of its mouth, dried blood on its nose, and it was lying in its own shit.  We figured it must have choked on something while the two of them were out at class.  My Marine friend came back and disposed of the body.  We all told him he couldn’t take care of the kittens and he should probably give the other one away. 

    That weekend he went home.  He only lived about an hour and a half away.  He told us his neighbor wanted the kitten.  We were a little suspicious, but we were glad he wasn’t going to try to keep it. 

    Later that week, again after a lot of drinking, he told a few of us that he didn’t give the kitten away.  Instead he brought it home and in his backyard, he strapped an M-80 firecracker to its back and tried to blow it up.  It didn’t work.  The kitten was wounded, but not dead.  It was burnt pretty badly, one of its paws was fucked up and an eyeball was dangling out.  It ran off into the woods, howling in pain and trying to escape.  He followed it and after hitting it with a stick a few times, he picked up a rock and crushed its head. 

    A few days later, he admitted before all of us what he had done.  We were all pretty shocked.  He was crying and sniffling when he told us.  He knew what he did was wrong.  He knew he needed help.  We knew we had to be as supportive for him as we could.  He went with another one of his Marine buddies to the Marine Commandant at the school to get some PTSD counseling set up.  We made sure he stayed away from the booze and were always there to listen if he felt like talking.

    He is getting better, but these things take time.  PTSD can really mess with your head.  He loved his buddies in the Marine Corps.  Iraq was tough, but it was just as tough for him to settle back into civilian life again.  War is not normal, but when you live so long surrounded by death and suffering, the value you place on life changes.  Normal civilian life is no longer normal.  After life in Iraq, school had seemed pointless to him.  He had a lot of tension that he couldn’t release.  In Iraq tension could be released with a single burst of gunfire.  The adrenaline of a gunfight could have a calming effect.  But when friends die and there is nothing you can do about it; when your daily routine seems pointless…what do you do?

    Keep a close eye on a friend if you think you may see the symptoms.  Be there for them.  Be supportive.  Let them know its okay to ask for help.  Its good to talk about these sad things.  You won’t think any less of them.  Tough war vet Marines can have kittens too.