[Vision2020] Medic in Famous Photo Dies After PTSD Struggle

Tom Hansen thansen at moscow.com
Mon Jul 7 11:35:35 PDT 2008


>From the Army Times -

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Pfc. Joe Dwyer carried a young Iraqi boy who was injured during a heavy 
battle between the U.S. Army's 7th Cavalry Regiment and Iraqi forces near 
the village of Al Faysaliyah, Iraq, on March 25, 2003. Dwyer died of an 
apparent overdose at his home in North Carolina on June 29, 2008.

http://tinyurl.com/5zezrg

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Medic in Famous Photo Dies After PTSD Struggle
By Kelly Kennedy, Army Times Staff writer
   
During the first week of the war in Iraq, a Military Times photographer 
captured the arresting image of Army Spc. Joseph Patrick Dwyer as he raced 
through a battle zone clutching a tiny Iraqi boy named Ali.

The photo was hailed as a portrait of the heart behind the U.S. military 
machine, and Doc Dwyer’s concerned face graced the pages of newspapers 
across the country.

But rather than going on to enjoy the public affection for his act of 
heroism, he was consumed by the demons of combat stress he could not 
exorcise. For the medic who cared for the wounds of his combat buddies as 
they pushed toward Baghdad, the battle for his own health proved too much 
to bear.

On June 28, Dwyer, 31, died of an accidental overdose in his home in 
Pinehurst, N.C., after years of struggling with post-traumatic stress 
disorder. During that time, his marriage fell apart as he spiraled into 
substance abuse and depression. He found himself constantly struggling 
with the law, even as friends, Veterans Affairs personnel and the Army 
tried to help him.

“Of course he was looked on as a hero here,” said Capt. Floyd Thomas of 
the Pinehurst Police Department.  Still, “we’ve been dealing with him for 
over a year.”

The day he died, Dwyer apparently took pills and inhaled the fumes of an 
aerosol can in an act known as “huffing.” Thomas said Dwyer then called a 
taxi company for a ride to the hospital. When the driver arrived, “they 
had a conversation through the door [of Dwyer’s home],” Thomas said, but 
Dwyer could not let the driver in. The driver asked Dwyer if he should 
call the police. Dwyer said yes. When the police arrived, they asked him 
if they should break down the door. He again said yes.

“It was down in one kick,” Thomas said. “They loaded him up onto a gurney, 
and that’s when he went code.”

Dwyer served in Iraq with 3rd Squadron, 7th Cavalry Regiment as the unit 
headed into Baghdad at the beginning of the war. As they pushed forward 
for 21 days in March 2003, only four of those days lacked gunfire, he 
later told Newsday. The day before Warren Zinn snapped his photo for 
Military Times, Dwyer’s Humvee had been hit by a rocket.

About 500 Iraqis were killed during those days, and Dwyer watched as Ali’s 
family near the village of al Faysaliyah was caught in the crossfire. he 
grabbed the 4-year-old boy from his father and sprinted with him to 
safety. Zinn grabbed the moment on his camera. The image went nationwide 
and Dwyer found himself hailed as a hero.

He did not see it that way.

“Really, I was just one of a group of guys,” he later told Military 
Times. “I wasn’t standing out more than anyone else.”

According to Dwyer, he was just one of many who wanted to help after the 
terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. He’d grown up in New York, and when 
the towers came crashing down, he went to see a recruiter.

“I knew I had to do something,” he said. Just before he left for Iraq, he 
got married.

But when he returned from war after three months in Iraq, he developed the 
classic, treatable symptoms of PTSD. like so many other combat vets, he 
didn’t seek help. In restaurants, he sat with his back to the wall. He 
avoided crowds. He stayed away from friends. He abused inhalants, he told 
Newsday. In 2005, he and his family talked with Newsday to try to help 
other service members who might need help. He talked with the paper from a 
psychiatric ward at Fort Bliss, Texas, where he was committed after his 
first run-in with the police.

In October 2005, he thought there were Iraqis outside his window in El 
Paso, Texas. When he heard a noise, he started shooting. Three hours 
later, police enticed him to come out and no one was injured.

Dwyer promised to go to counseling, and promised to tell the truth. He 
seemed excited about his wife’s pregnancy.

But the day he died, he and his wife had not been together for at least a 
year, Thomas said.

And almost exactly a year ago — June 26, 2007 — Dwyer had again been 
committed to a psychiatric ward. Thomas said police received a 911 call 
that Dwyer was “having mental problems relating to PTSD.” “We responded 
and took him in,” Thomas said. “He’s been in and out.”

Military Times could not reach Dwyer’s family, but his wife, Matina Dwyer, 
told the Pinehurst Pilot, “He was a very good and caring person. He was 
just never the same when he came back, because of all the things he saw. 
He tried to seek treatment, but it didn’t work.”

She told the paper she hoped his death would bring more awareness about 
PTSD.

In 2003, Dwyer was still hopeful about the future, and about his place in 
the war.

“I know that people are going to be better for it,” he told Military 
Times. “The whole world will be. I hope being here is positive, because 
we’re a caring group of people out here.”

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How many more?

Seeya round town, Moscow.

Tom Hansen
Moscow, Idaho
 
"Patriotism is not a short and frenzied outburst of emotion but the 
tranquil and steady dedication of a lifetime." 

-- Adlai E. Stevenson, Jr. 


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