Suicide in the 1970s Army, Suicide Now

In the spring of 1977, I was the duty sergeant in Wiesbaden, West Germany, when I got a call that one of our soldiers killed himself while on guard duty.  I called the duty officer.  Within what seemed like just a few minutes, the battalion command staff was in the headquarters and handling the crisis.

I heard he fired his M16 full auto with the barrel in his mouth. That was the last official word I heard about the young man who was now dead. The Chaplain did not mention the soldier's death the following Sunday or at any time.

The day after the incident, our first sergeant delivered one of his rambling talks about why we should not kill ourselves. 

In the Army in the 1970s, suicide was still wrong.  It was a failure.  Soldiers who took their own lives got no honors.  They were not mentioned.  In the 1970s in the military, suicide was still a Sin.  The young soldier “committed” suicide, because what he did was a sin and a crime.  Today, when suicide is mentioned, I usually hear it as someone “taking his own life.” 

I left the Army in 1979 and went to college.  Then in 2007, I re-enlisted at 54 years old.  Much about the Army was the same.  The first time I went to field training in 2008, I rode in the back of a “Deuce and a Half” truck carrying an M16 rifle.  But later that year when the father of one of our soldiers took his own life, I found out that the Army’s view of suicide was not the same.  Most of the company turned out to support their brother in arms at the funeral. Suicide was no longer a sin.

This year two soldiers in that same company took their own lives.  I watched the Honor Guard practice for the first funeral.  Watching the Honor Guard practice, I thought how much the Army has changed since the 1970s.  I am not sure if our $10,000 life insurance policy back in the 1970s paid in the case of suicide, but I am quite sure that the families of these soldiers will receive the current full death benefit that is somewhere close to $500,000.

Both then and now, I cannot imagine the severity of the pain these men must have experienced; pain so strong that it led them to take their own lives.  Both in the Army and out, I have seen the pain suicide causes for the friends and family of the deceased.  They are bewildered, guilty, devastated.  Suicide was a tragedy in the old Army and is a tragedy now.  But I am glad today’s Army counts suicide among the casualties of war.  No matter whether we lose a soldier to accident, illness, injury, enemy fire or suicide, we have lost one of our own. 

Back Story about the Big General in New Jersey

Recently the Adjutant General of New Jersey made national news when the plus-size governor of the Garden State, Chris Christie, gave Brigadier General Michael Cuniff 90 days to shape up or ship out. That day was certainly a bad day for the general.  But recently I heard about a worse day he had in 1986.

It's not that I disagree with Christie for a moment.  One of the things I dislike about the National Guard is the way it allows senior people who can't meet height, weight and fitness standards to keep responsible positions.

Although it does not change the current facts, I find it too easy to forget that the fat guy in his late 50s was not necessarily that same guy 29 years ago. Just after I saw the unflattering news reports, I heard about the worst day of Cuniff's life from a mutual friend.  That day was June 19, 1986.

I know a guy who used to fly F-4 Phantom fighter jets for the New Jersey Air National Guard.  In 1986 Cuniff was "Guard Bumming" hanging around the flight facility hoping a paid gig would show up and he could get some flight hours.

My buddy was scheduled to fly a practice bomb run but his "back seat" was a no-show.  Cuniff said he would fly.

During the bomb run, one of the F4's engines caught fire, none of the emergency procedures put out the flames, so the two-man crew had to eject.  Cuniff suffered several broken bones and many other injuries ejecting during the bombing run.

When I see the senior officers and NCOs who are 50 pounds over weight (or two feet short of the height for their weight) I look at them only in their current flaccid form.  They have job expertise, but they do not meet the basic requirements and obligations of a soldier.  Hearing about that day in 1986 reminded me that at one time, they were young and fit and on top of their game.

Of course, the general and every other out-of-shape soldier should meet military standards, but it is also good for me to remember that they were not always the way they are now.

Here's the story from the Philadelphia Inquirer.