Grand Praire, TX. Rebecca Morrison with some of her husband Ian's belongings in her parents homes. Ian, an AH-64 Apache Helicopter pilot in the U.S. Army committed suicide on March 21, 2012. Ian chose 'Ike' for Rebecca.
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Leslie had relationships to protect as well. He was increasingly hard on her at home; he was also hard on the kids and on himself. "He was always an amazing father--he loved his children--but he started lashing out at them," Leslie recalls. "He wasn't getting enough sleep, and he was under a lot of stress." Leslie began exploring options but very, very carefully; she had a bomb-disposal problem as well. "When I was reaching out for help, people were saying, Be careful how you phrase this, because it could affect your husband's career," she says. "That was terrifying to me. It made me think that by advocating for him I'd be making things worse."
The Pilot's Pain
Captain Morrison headed to Iraq in early 2011. Once there, he and Rebecca Skyped nearly every day between his flight assignments. When he took R&R leave in early September, they visited family in Dallas, then San Antonio, and caught concerts by Def Leppard and Heart. There were no signs of trouble. "He was so mentally stable--he worked out every day, we ate good food, and we always had good communication," his wife says. "Most people would say he was kind of quiet, but with me he was loud and obnoxious and open."
Morrison never engaged the enemy in direct combat; still, some 70 missions over Iraq took their toll. His base was routinely mortared. After one mission, he and several other pilots were walking back to their hangar when a rocket shot right past them and almost hit him; he and his comrades ran and dived into a bunker, he told Rebecca once he was safely home. He impressed his commander--"Excellent performance!" his superior raved in a formal review of the man his buddies called Captain Brad Pitt. "Unlimited potential ... continue to place in position of greater responsibility."
It was not the war that turned out to be hard; it was the peace. Morrison returned to Fort Hood late last year and spent his month off with Rebecca riding their horses, attending church and working out. He seemed unnerved by slack time at home. "He said it was really easy to fall into a routine in Iraq--they got up at the exact same time, they ate, they worked out, they flew forever and then they came back, and he'd talk to me, and then they did it all over again," Rebecca says. "When he came back to Texas, it was really difficult for him to adjust."
Morrison was due to be reassigned, so he and his wife needed to sell their house, but it just sat on the market. His anxiety grew; he was restless, unable to sleep, and they thought he might be suffering from PTSD. The couple agreed that he should see a doctor. Military wives, especially those studying mental health, have heard the stories, know the risks, learn the questions: Is their spouse drinking more, driving recklessly, withdrawing from friends, feeling trapped? Be direct, they are told. "I looked him right in the face and asked, 'Do you feel like you want to hurt or kill yourself?'" Rebecca recalls. "He looked me right in the face and said, 'Absolutely not--no way--I don't feel like that at all. All I want to do is figure out how to stop this anxiety.'"
The Stigma