By The Editors

Plenty of Time When We Get Home: Love and Recovery in the Aftermath of War
by Kayla Williams
WW Norton, 272 pages, $26

When SPC Kayla Williams and SGT Brian McGough met at a mountain outpost in Iraq in 2003, only their verbal sparring could have betrayed a hint of attraction. Brian, on his way back to base after mid-tour leave, was wounded by a roadside bomb that sent shrapnel through his brain. Kayla waited anxiously for news and, on returning home, sought out Brian. The two later married, but neither anticipated the consequences of Brian’s injury on their lives. Lacking essential support for returning veterans from the military and the VA, Kayla and Brian suffered through post-traumatic stress amplified by his violent mood swings, her struggles to reintegrate into a country still oblivious to women veterans, and the indifference of civilian society at large. They fought for their marriage, drawing on remarkable reservoirs of courage and commitment. They confronted their demons head-on, impatient with phoniness of any sort. Inspired by an unwavering ethos of service, they continued to stand on common ground. Finally, they found their own paths to healing and wholeness, both as individuals and as a family, in dedication to a larger community.

You and your husband, Brian, met and both served in combat in Iraq. That must have been quite an experience. Where does the title ‘Plenty of Time When We Get Home’ come from? Was that something you used to say there?

Brian and I met on the side of Sinjar Mountain in the summer of 2003. He was funny, smart, sarcastic, handsome – I was intrigued, but it was a combat zone. We couldn’t exactly go on a date! One day I confessed that I wanted to get to know him better, and he replied, “There’s plenty of time for that when we get home.” Shortly thereafter, he was very seriously wounded and nearly died; I thought that chance was lost forever.

I was part of the initial invasion of Iraq in 2003 and, as an Arabic linguist, actually got to talk to lots of Iraqi people. Although I hadn’t believed in the rationale given for the war, hearing their stories of suffering under the Ba’ath regime and hope for a better future made me think that perhaps we had done the right thing, even if it was for the wrong reasons. Perhaps in part because of my ability to speak the language, I wasn’t able to “dehumanize the other” – I always saw the Iraqis as people just like us, not as an amorphous, evil, monolithic enemy. But as the insurgency took root, when Brian and other troops that I knew were injured, it became much harder to hold on to that sense of shared humanity. I became more afraid and also angrier. At the same time, I could see how it seemed we were getting trapped in a vicious cycle: as the Iraqis used more violence against US troops, we hardened our defenses and used harsher tactics, which increased the number of Iraqis willing to turn to violence, and so forth. Once that spiral begins, it seems virtually impossible to change course.

The ethos of “leave no fallen comrade behind” was deeply ingrained in me…Our shared experiences in Iraq also helped us both have a sense of what the other had been through, and deeper patience for certain problems-or even shared symptoms.

What was it like being a young woman in an army at war? And what was it like when you were on R&R, or when you finally made it home? Did you feel somewhat like a unicorn in that people only think of things like ‘our boys over there’ and not much about the girls over there? What’s the difference between how people see or treat woman veterans and how they see or treat men?

During major combat operations, my gender was only important to the extent that it was an asset to the mission: as a woman, some Iraqi people-especially women-were more willing to talk to me when I accompanied the infantry on combat foot patrols in Baghdad. However, once we moved into SASO (stability and support operations) and had more down time, all kinds of interpersonal tensions arose – which included sexual harassment, making me feel more isolated while on the deployment. When we got home, it was immediately clear to me that most civilians had no idea what military women were experiencing downrange. Some asked if I was allowed to carry a gun as a woman, while others asked if I was in the infantry, which is still not authorized. When groups of us would go out for beers, someone would frequently buy the guys a round to welcome them home, and women were excluded: people assumed we were wives or girlfriends, not veterans ourselves. That made me feel further alienated from a country that had come to feel foreign while I was gone. Looking around, I realized that the only women troops in the popular press were Jessica Lynch and Lynddie England, who were not the women I wanted representing the service of hundreds of thousands of women service-members – that’s what drove me to write my first book, Love My Rifle More Than You: Young and Female in the US Army.

When it comes to relationships, a lot people see difficulty and they run away from it. I guess Brian must have needed real help after his injuries and suffering from PTSD. A lot of other people, men or women, may have shrugged away from that. You also had your own issues to deal with from the war and coming back home as well. But you and Brian fell in love instead. Do you think this had to do with your individual personalities or that it had more to do with your common experience as soldiers? How did you or both of you approach trying to find some normalcy and build a life together after what you went through at war?

Falling in love was related to our individual personalities. My willingness to stay with him through the very worst stages of his recovery, when his TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury) and PTSD symptoms were most severe, was definitely related to my military service. The ethos of “leave no fallen comrade behind” was deeply ingrained in me, a sense of duty that seemed lacking in civilian society-witness famous men who have divorced or cheated when their wives developed breast cancer, for example. Our shared experiences in Iraq also helped us both have a sense of what the other had been through, and deeper patience for certain problems-or even shared symptoms; both of us hated crowds and fireworks when we first came home. The flip side to that is that we were both imbued with the military mind set of “suck it up and drive on,” an unwillingness to admit difficulty and ask for help. I sometimes wondered if I would’ve sought help, for myself and for him, sooner if I were a civilian. We really flailed around for several years, not knowing how to get our lives back on track. Participating actively in veterans advocacy was tremendously beneficial for us, both in terms of helping derive meaning from suffering by seeking to use our own experiences to advocate for improvements for those coming home after us and by giving us a community.

As far as PTSD and TBI are concerned, whenever there are incidents with veterans the media seem quick to jump on the point right away, which seems to be at odds with the virtual ‘hero worship’ of veterans that goes on otherwise. Vets seem to be saints or sinners with little room in between. What do you think can or should be done to reach a better public understanding or dialogue on PTSD and TBI?

It seems in a sense that we’re heroes while we wear the uniform, and then as soon as we take it off we’re perceived as broken. It’s very frustrating – and it is a challenge for me as an advocate to paint a nuanced picture. As a whole, veterans are more highly employed, educated, and paid than our civilian peers who have never served – so you should hire us, support your kids if they want to serve! On the other hand, a minority of veterans struggle tremendously, often as a result of trauma they experienced in the military, and as citizens we are morally obligated to ensure that there are adequate systems and services in place to support them on their journeys to healing and recovery. Bridging the civil-military divide requires action on both sides: veterans must be willing to try to explain what we experienced, and civilians must be willing to try understand. [Author and ex-Marine] Phil Klay wrote a great piece about this – people are willing to suspend disbelief to enjoy movies or books about vampires and aliens, putting themselves into those worlds, but say “I can’t imagine what it was like” to veterans. Well, try to imagine! Read works by veterans and try to develop an understanding. And we need meet civilians halfway, instead of just agreeing that they could never understand; we need to share as we are able so that our world is not a mystery.

There have been a lot of bad stories in the press over the last several years about poor conditions or services at military and VA hospitals. What was the support like on the home front when you both made it back? What support did you get from the military when transitioning? What about the Department of Veterans Affairs? What was your experience?

Brian got tremendous emergency medical care from the military – his survival and high functioning are practically miraculous given the severity of his injuries. However, his follow-up care once he became an outpatient was horrible. He got no rehabilitation and was returned to his duty station where his primary care provider had no understanding of TBI or PTSD. Once we were married, I got neither training nor support on how to fulfill my new role as a caregiver. When we first sought care at the DC VA Medical Center, neither of us felt comfortable. However, a few years later we separately reengaged with VA for care – I went to Martinsburg, West Virginia, which is a shorter drive from our house, and Brian went back to the DC VA – and both of us got sensitive, culturally informed, high-quality care. Clearly continued improvements are necessary. However, we also know from seeking care in the civilian sector that many providers outside the VA are not at all knowledgeable about how to treat combat injuries, physical or psychological.

Undoubtedly, America will go to war again at some point. What would you tell young men and women who are about to go off to war for the first time if you could? What do you wish someone would have told you?

The advice I give to young people considering military service is to cry in the bathroom, not have sex with anyone in your unit, and work hard in order to earn respect based on your ability to do your job well-don’t sham. I think it’s actually good advice in the civilian sector, too.

Kayla Williams, an Iraq War veteran and former Arabic linguist in the U.S. Army, is the author of Love My Rifle More than You and Plenty of Time When We Get Home. She lives with her husband Brian and their two children in Virginia.