Not Another Number
Getting Beyond the Push-Up Challenge
by Tim Stolinski
Today, I learned of another soldier whom I served with has passed on to Fiddler’s Green by his own hand. Sean Long was still a kid when I last saw him, barely able to grow a mustache. He was a 14S in 3rd PLT, E/1–43 ADA at Camp Casey, in the Republic of Korea. I was the platoon leader for 4th platoon. While I knew Long and saw him every day, we weren’t buddies. That’s just part of the job. My platoon and Sean’s platoon often trained together though, as they would both get attached to the same MLRS battalion. I can remember checking on him while making rounds to all the Avenger positions during one particularly sloppy training exercise. His whole platoon was more or less stuck in place, so I was running hot chow to them while my crews were on higher ground and able to rotate back in. Sean was a good soldier in a place where good soldiers were hard to come by. He did his job well and kept out of trouble. Not always the easiest thing to do.
So where does that leave us? Is that 22 or 20? Does it really matter? Another one of us is gone. Whether it was intentional or an accident, we’ve lost another brother needlessly. This seems to continue on without end, and that is unacceptable. Every day we see another person doing the 22 Push-up Challenge, but nothing really changes. There are few things more gut wrenching than seeing someone you care for struggle and not knowing what to do, to see someone slowly fade in front of you and feel helpless to stop it. We need to keep trying, though, each other is all that we have. Looking out for the person next to you doesn’t stop when the boots go over the wire.
I write this as a challenge to all of us. Check your buddy, stay in contact with as many people that you serve with as possible, reach out to the stranger (veteran or not) and show them you care. We all have a role in this fight. It’s time to move past what the VA isn’t doing. It’s long past time to stop complaining about civilians not understanding or caring. It’s time for us to step up and take action for one another.
A couple years ago, I met a Vietnam veteran at a charity fundraising walk for an Iraq and Afghanistan memorial in Buffalo, NY. I really didn’t want to talk to him that much. I wasn’t comfortable and I didn’t want to hear some old fart’s bellyaching. I was an Iraq vet. Different war, different time, different problems. This guy was persistent, though, and I’m grateful today that he was. The aging veteran told me that we (post-9/11 vets) need to stick together, stay in touch, because — whether we realize it or not — we need each other. It didn’t sink in very well that sunny autumn day. It’s starting to sink in now.
Please, reach out to someone. Even if you have no reason to think a person is struggling. We all carry wounds, most of which aren’t visible. Let someone know that there is another person out there who cares about them and is there to help. We’re dying, and we are the only ones who can save us.
Sean Long was a former NCO. He was a son, he was a brother, he was a person who was struggling. Not a number for the day. Sean Long was not a friend of mine, but he was a brother-in-arms and I weep for his loss.
Tim Stolinski is a former Air Defense Artillery Officer who served from 2006–2011. He now lives near Buffalo, NY with his wife, step-daughter, and five dogs. He currently works for the Department of Homeland Security. His opinions are his own and in no way reflect those of DHS or the United States government.
