I'll try to keep this as concise as possible.
I was 17 when I joined the army in 1997. I was a junior in high school at the time and my parents had to sign a waiver for me to enlist. I went to basic training during the summer break between my Junior and Senior year of high school and, after completing basic training, I spent my senior year in the Army reserves before I received and Army ROTC scholarship in 1998.
As a kid growing up in a center-right household I grew up believing that our military was a force that would be used for good. I believed that we had learned our lessons from Vietnam and that they wouldn't be repeated again (whatever that means). I was 11 when the first Gulf War took place and I viewed that as a success and justified through the eyes of a kid. I saw the situation in Kosovo develop and I was a 15 year old kid in 1995 when the Dayton Peace Accord was signed and NATO took over the defunct humanitarian mission in the Balkans. I saw that as yet another example of a justified military excursion. I wanted to be a part of a force that would make the world a better place and I ate the center-right viewpoint that I grew up under up.
When I was in college between the years of 1998 and 2002 I got very involved in my local ROTC program. I was in excellent shape and I was a pretty decent student. I was studying chemistry and the idea of being a member of the Special Forces really struck a nerve with me (I'm not sure how much you know about the different groups, but the Army Special Forces main mission is to deploy behind enemy lines and to train indigenous groups how to fight. They are extremely capable Soldiers, but their main mission isn't to go after unique and high-value targets). Their mottos is "de oppreso libre" or "liberator of the oppressed". I fell in love with the idea of being a part of a group like that.
I had just started my senior year of college when September 11th happened. At that point I had already made my request to be an Infantry Officer in the US Army (there are 16 different branches an officer in the Army can choose from like military police, field artillery, quartermaster, medical, etc). I wasn't afraid to face danger if it meant that we were making the world a better place.
At the time, I agreed with our nations response and mission in Afghanistan. It seemed a little scary, but I wasn't afraid to become a part of it. It was what I signed up to do. I graduated college in May of 2002 and between May '02 and May '03 I spent about a year at Ft. Benning, GA going through Infantry Officer Basic Course, Airborne School, Mechanized Infantry Leaders Course, and Ranger School. During that time period things were escalating between the US and Iraq and I remember wondering what the connection between Iraq and September 11th was. After all, weren't 19 of the 21 hijackers Saudi Arabian? I never, from the beginning, believed in Iraq. But at that point in time I had long since made a commitment to the military and I couldn't back out. Even though I didn't agree with the war on Iraq I decided that I would do my best for the people of Iraq.
I eventually was assigned to the 3rd Brigade of the 1st Infantry Division which was stationed in Vilseck, Germany. I was the Platoon Leader of 2nd Platoon, Alpha Company, 2-2 Infantry Battalion from roughly January 2004 until April 2005. I was in Iraq from 14 Feb 2004 through 22 Feb 2005. My platoon, being an Infantry Platoon, was attached to the 82nd Engineer Battalion which was mostly made up of 113s and HMMWVs. I was given two M1A1 Tanks in addition to the Bradley Fighting Vehicles I had in my platoon and I had a tremendous amount of firepower under my control. Whenever the unit I was assigned to faced any sort of combat, my platoon was thrown out in sector and tasked to "clean up".
We conducted combat patrols at least 6 days a week for the year+ that we were assigned there. I was in a number of firefights ranging from small-arms ambushes that lasted maybe 15 minutes, to IED attacks, suicide bombers, sniper fire, and two rather large firefights lasting 14 and 24 hours. During the course of the year my platoon was credited with killing 46 people that we actually found the bodies of and wounding approximately 100. I saw more than my fair share of combat and its impacts. It's one thing to shoot someone, but it is another thing altogether to find their remains after a firefight and see exactly what the weapon you fired at them did to their bodies. Not everyone killed was an obvious combatant. One of the most troubling memories for me is of a 9 or 10 year old boy I personally came across after a firefight who had been shot through the chest. The bullet came out of hiss lower back and he was obviously laying on the ground staying low when he was shot. He was still alive when I found him and when I started to apply first aid to him. I lost 5 of the 44 Soldiers that were under my command and I personally stuffed one of them in a body bag and carried it to the helicopter that was taking them away. Oddly enough, the guy had basically my same first name, Viktar Yolkin. He, and the others I lost, weren't just names to me. After spending nearly a year with these guys I got to know them very well and on a very personal level. Rank and military courtesy kind of melts away and you talk very frankly to one another. I personally met with the parents of 4 of the 5 Soldiers I lost. Some of them were supportive and kind towards me and others were hateful and accusatory of me - which is perfectly fine with me. As their platoon leader, I believed I owed it to them for their families to have the opportunity to curse me out for their loss.
It took me a few months to realize it, but Iraq was never about making the world a better place. Americans were upset after September 11th and they wanted to see dead Arabs. Apparently they realized after invading Afghanistan that Afghanis are considered to be ethnically Arab so we had to go mess up another country. Aside from that, Afghanistan was too easy and we had to flex our military muscle and look for a harder fight.
My attitude completely changed while I was I Iraq. I went from wanting to help the Iraqi people to not giving a shit about them and looking forward to the next firefight. I honestly didn't expect to come home alive or in one piece. I saw carnage and death around me on a daily basis and I expected my life to end that way. In hindsight, I'm sorry that it didn't - but that is another story altogether. War brings out the worst in humanity. Do you remember a few years back how a unit in Afghanistan got in trouble after they pissed on the bodies of the people they killed? The only reason I didn't do that was because I didn't think of it - and I was an officer!
Anyways, I returned from Iraq on my birthday in 2005 (Feb 22). As much as I hated leaving that country and leaving the war, I hated returning to civilian life even more. I eventually got out of the Army on 31 October 2007 and attempted to rejoin "normal" civilian life. I bought a house and got a good job working for Amazon.com in New Castle, DE. My PTSD symptoms started to get out of control and I sought treatment from the VA and was given a 70% disability rating. Eventually, after a number of issues at work, I was suspended for 5 weeks and then 3 months later fired after a number of flashbacks I had scared the shit out of my fellow employees. I ended up getting a job with the federal government as a chemist at the US Mint at West Point, NY and things went good for a few years. In 2013 I started to fall apart a little bit. I started to talk about suicide and have flashback episodes, but nobody took me seriously. On June 25 2014 I got into an argument with my wife. She threw some very hateful things at me and called me a coward and a killer. I called her bluff on being a coward and I slashed my left wrist four times with a razorblade, switched the blade from my right to left hand and slashed my right wrist once before my mangled left hand dropped the blade. I sprayed my blood all over my wife and started screaming about the war like a crazy person. My oldest daughter (then 5 years old) heard my wife and I fighting and came out of her room and saw me running around the house spraying my blood everywhere. I saw her and suddenly had doubts about whether or not I really wanted to die and I grabbed my left wrist with my right hand and attempted to slow the bleeding. I ran outside and continued to bleed everywhere while I waited for the cops to come. My wife came outside and tried to apologize to me but I just shoved her away. Fuck her and fuck that war. I completely fell apart and I spent the following 3 months locked up in a psych ward. I ended up losing my job a little while later as everyone around me felt uncomfortable working with a suicidal combat veteran. My family is still convinced that I might go "murder suicide" on my wife and our family and my relationships have completely fallen apart.
Of the last two years, I spent roughly 6-7 months locked up in a psych ward. I'm doing alright now, but come June and the summer I start to do really bad. In 2014 and 2015 I spent both of the summers entirely in a psych ward. I'm not sure what to expect for 2016, but it'll probably be the same. The summers are my worst time of year as there are numerous anniversaries from Iraq during that time. I'm halfway decent most of the rest of the year, but I turn into a suicidal freak during the summer months.
I'm 36 years old and I hate the fact that I'm a shadow of what I was more than a decade ago. I'm a complete freak when I'm in public and I'm so sorry that I ever made back from Iraq alive. If I could go back to Iraq and go on another combat patrol, I would do it in a heartbeat. As aweful as the war was, I miss it terribly.
As of right now, I haven't worked in over a year. I'm considered totally and permanently disabled by the VA and I'm receiving 3 disability pensions from the government. My family is alright financially as long as I stay alive - and I hate staying alive.
I feel betrayed by my government and the politicians that sent me to war. I joined the Army to make the world a better place, not to turn Iraq into the mess that it is and to ruin the lives of others. I hate what I did in Iraq and I hate what I've become, but at the same time I miss the violence and the murder. Nothing can beat the high feeling of being on a combat patrol and knowing that the only thing that matters is what happens in the next couple of seconds. Fuck everything else.
Returning "home" is the hardest thing I've ever had to endure. I hate civilian life and I hate what I have become. I'm also terribly bitter at the politicians that sent me to the war yet have never had to experience its repercussions first hand. How many times has Hillary Clinton attempted suicide after her role in Iraq? how messed up are her children after her non-suicide attempts? How much did Hillary Clinton really lose from her life as a result of her role in Iraq?
I joined the Army to make the world a better place. instead, I was taken advantage of by our government and our politicians when I was thrown into Iraq. I cannot, in good conscience, ever stand behind anybody who ever supported that war. It was way more intense and way more violent than anyone who had never been a part of it could comprehend.
When I see Hillary Clinton ruined by her role in the war and riddled with the scars of suicide attempts after the guilt and shame she feels for the war she was a part of in Iraq then I'll believe the sincerity of her regrets for her Iraq War Vote and then I'll become a supporter.
I hope you can understand where I come from when I say I will not vote for Hillary Clinton.
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