Author, veteran tells his story of PTSD

David Morris said he was doomed from the moment the young infantryman he was riding with in an Army Humvee asked if he’d ever been blown up. He hadn’t — yet.

The question was a curse according to “grunt logic” — or superstition — and it worked its voodoo quickly. The next day, Oct. 10, 2007, a roadside bomb blast in Baghdad nearly killed him.

A Marine Corps veteran who had served as an infantry officer, Morris was embedded with the grunts of the Army’s 1st Infantry Division as a war correspondent at the time, his third reporting trip to Iraq.

On Wednesday, he was at the Buena Vista Branch Library in Burbank telling his story as part of a discussion about his new book, “The Evil Hours,” a biography of post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD.

The book offers a closer look at the condition that Morris said affects 12% to 15% of combat veterans and will affect an estimated 8% of all Americans — 25 million people — at some point in their lives. While it’s most often associated with veterans, it also affects rape victims and others who have experienced psychological or bodily traumas.

In the memoir, Morris examines his own experiences, but also the history of the disorder from antiquity to the present. He also offers a critique of modern treatments — too much is left to the people in “white lab coats,” whereas in the past, “the ancients” turned to poetry, clergy and family to process and find peace with their pain.

Such cultural traditions should not be abandoned, he said, advocating for a “more eclectic” approach and arguing that society should play a larger role in helping people cope with trauma.

Introducing the author to an audience that included a few veterans, advocates and others — even several local high school students — reference librarian Hubert Kozak called Morris an “everyman,” praising his broader approach and refusal to be “morally neutered” by leaving the issue to specialists.

The event kicked off the opening of a collection of resources for veterans at the Burbank Public Library’s Central and Buena Vista locations, but Kozak said the “sense of vulnerability” that accompanies PTSD is an “important connection” for people who might never have served in combat.

Much of Morris’ discussion focused on how cultural forces can both ease and intensify aspects of the condition. A passage he read describes his feelings of alienation on his 2007 return from the war in Iraq — what he felt was “the defining event of my generation,” but which people at home didn’t seem to have given much thought.

“The war had changed me, enlarged me in some way, made me feel as if history was a tangible force in my life,” Morris read. “Seeing the workaday world, people with their looks of practiced oblivion, put me on edge.”

Following the reading, Burbank resident and Army veteran Chuck Rutkin said he probably knows all the veterans with PTSD in Burbank. He said many veterans he knows with the condition are highly functional — a professional photographer and a former civil servant were two unnamed examples he cited.

One female veteran in the audience said she developed the condition after being sexually assaulted. The diagnosis left her ostracized even from her fellow service members, she said.

Morris, who is currently touring to promote his book, said people are often hopeful he’s discovered a PTSD cure — “a pharmaceutical” — but he hasn’t. He did, however, offer his a view on prevention.

In addition to discussing ways to avoid the wars that cause trauma and PTSD, Morris said, “we also really need to talk about the safety of women and how to deal with rape in our culture.”