An Interview with Catherine Whitney, Author of Soldiers Once: My Brother and the Lost Dreams of America’s Veterans

Why did you write Soldiers Once?

Two events compelled me to write this story. The first was the death of my brother, Jim, a fifty-three-year-old Vietnam veteran, whose life began to unravel during three tours of duty Vietnam, and kept unraveling during his twenty year service in the army. He retired from the military into an empty existence of alcoholism, poverty, and isolation, and his family couldn’t save him. After his premature death, I was compelled to write about him, to dig into his life and find answers for why it had taken such a tragic course.

The second event, which came the day after we buried Jim, was 9/11. As I watched a fresh crop of soldiers go off to war, I wondered how we would prevent them from suffering Jim’s fate. I saw a significant disconnect between what we say about supporting our troops and what we actually do to support them—not just when they’re at war, but when they return home.

Was your brother Jim typical of veterans?

Certainly many veterans manage to shake off the experience of war, and go on to live productive lives, but too many others are like Jim. They live in poverty, and are plagued by PTSD, violence and substance abuse. The suicide rate among veterans is higher than ever. These soldiers never “come back,” and as a nation we aren’t very good at helping them do so. We love the patriotic image of troops marching off to war, but we turn away from the wounded warriors, as if embarrassed by their weakness.

Is this an anti-war book?

It is not my intention to argue about the rights and wrongs of war itself. However, if we are going to send our young men and women into battle on our behalf, we should be able to face the consequences more squarely. The veterans I spoke to in writing this book were very proud to have served. Their sacrifice and courage makes it all the more tragic that we haven’t taken good care of them.

But aren’t individuals responsible for their choices—particularly substance abuse?

Yes, absolutely. We are all personally responsible for our lives. Yet most soldiers are very young when they go to war—my brother Jim was seventeen. They need guidance and support. They need life skills, not just in the ways of war, but in coping with what they experienced and transitioning into civilian life. Typically, the military has ignored the emotional trauma that is a devastating cost of war. Soldiers are ashamed to admit that they have problems for fear it will ruin their careers or cancel out their heroism.

Why is your brother’s story relevant?

Jim was a soldier’s soldier. He loved the military. It gave him a sense of purpose and identity. He volunteered for three tours in Vietnam, and he remained in the army for twenty years. His personal demons were clear to see—he was an alcoholic with a violent temper. Since he was a career soldier, I feel that the army should have tried to address his problems during his lengthy period of service. Instead, it moved him from post to post, finally retiring him at the age of thirty-seven, and essentially turning its back on him. He was forced to go it alone, and he just couldn’t handle it.

Did your family try to help him?

The saddest part of Jim’s story is that we never understood his agony. We were typical of many families. We couldn’t abide the violence and drinking, and we blamed Jim for his problems. In the last sixteen years of his life, he was alienated from us, and for most of that time we didn’t know where he was. Jim believed that he would get little in the way of compassion and support from us, so he left us behind, and we didn’t try to stop him. We are a large, close family, but we could never show Jim that he belonged. We loved him, but we required him to get his act together on his own. It’s one of the main reasons I wrote this book—to resolve our family’s guilt and confusion.

How does your family feel about your writing Jim’s story?

At first, my mother and some of my siblings were troubled by the idea. They felt that I should just let Jim rest in peace. They didn’t want me picking at the old scabs. But eventually they came around, because they realized that in telling Jim’s story, perhaps I could shed a necessary light on veterans’ problems and help others like him.

You are a woman who has never served in the military. How can you adequately tell the story, or really understand what veterans are experiencing?

I realized from the start that I am an inadequate messenger. When I’ve talked to veterans, I have felt great humility, knowing I could never really understand what it has been like for them. But I am like thousands of other civilians—wives, husbands, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers and children, whose loved ones have struggled to get their voices heard. Whatever small part I can play is worth it.

What is your message for soldiers and veterans today?

I want them to feel that we’re all in this together—that they don’t have to go it alone. Many men have told me that the worst thing about returning from war is the feeling of isolation. The people they love don’t understand them anymore. They don’t seem to fit in their families and communities. They see the yellow ribbons that proliferate on car bumpers, but the hollow support doesn’t translate to tangible care for the flesh and blood human beings who fight. We need to express the thanks of a grateful nation in tangible ways. There is no excuse for the fact that over two hundred thousand veterans are homeless, or that the only choice some veterans have is to disappear into substance abuse or commit suicide.


How can the military and the VA address the problems of veterans when the military is so stretched and the VA is so overloaded?

The soldiers and veterans I spoke to aren’t asking for a lot, just what they’ve earned and what they deserve. Filing a claim with the VA, especially for the invisible wounds of PTSD, the complex illnesses from exposure to chemicals, or the confusing effects of traumatic brain injury does not need to be such a torturous process. Yes, the VA is overloaded, but the process itself is unnecessarily tangled, and it seems to many veterans that the default attitude is to doubt their suffering. The government needs to fix its bureaucracy, but this can only happen if the public demands it. Rarely are veteran issues discussed during political campaigns, because we are not raising an outcry on the veterans’ behalf. Supporting the troops, at war and at home, is our moral obligation as citizens.