National Defence Committee on June 3rd, 2013

[The Chair, Conservative, James Bezan]

I call this meeting to order.

I want to welcome everyone to meeting number 83 of the Standing Committee on National Defence as we continue with our study on the care of ill and injured members of the Canadian Armed Forces.

Joining us for the first hour are Heather Allison and Greg Woolvett.

I want to welcome both of you and allow you to make your opening comments.

Greg, if you'd go first, we'd appreciate that.

[Gregory Woolvett, As an Individual]

I'd like to thank the committee for extending the invitation to me to make a few statements regarding my son and the care and treatment that he and others have received.

My son suffers from catastrophic post-traumatic stress disorder. The family suffers from battle fatigue from dealing with his condition and dealing with the Canadian military.

I'm not here to slam the Canadian military. I'm here purely to give my family's side of the argument.

To give you an update, my son contacted his commanding officer last Thursday and asked to be taken to the Royal Victoria Hospital in Barrie for a detox program. He's had a relapse. They hope to get him back into some type of a rehabilitation program when the detox program is completed. He has told me, and I understand this is a sign of progress, that he's tired of being in the press. He doesn't want his name in the press any more. He wants to move on. So I'm here purely for the family today.

My son began his post-traumatic disorder on his first tour in Afghanistan. On May 25, 2007, his bunkmate, Corporal Matthew McCully, was killed in an IED explosion at 100 meters from Jon. That night Jon had to pack up his personal belongings and send them home to his family. Jon called me that day by satellite phone and said, “Dad, you're going to hear something on the news tonight. I want you to know I'm fine.” That was when the family realized we were going to war with our son.

Jon got back from his first tour in August 2007 and was due to be married on October 5. He looked healthy. Everything seemed to be fine. But we didn't know then what we know now, that the PTSD was already well under way. He went over first as a volunteer. His second tour, which began in September 2008, was with his battalion. He felt it was absolutely mandatory to go back into battle with the guys he trained with.

He came back on leave seven weeks after being over on the second tour, and I took him to a Maple Leafs hockey game. Later in the evening he called me to the roof of the hotel and said, “Dad, I want you to know that I'm not afraid. I'm not scared. But when this is over, I'm done.”

During the rest of that tour he suffered more losses of bunkmates, companions. He suffered seven months of terror every day that they were out in the field, and I believe toward the end of that tour he had a nervous breakdown. He had a pistol cocked in his mouth. Two of his fellow soldiers took him to see a medical psychiatrist who gave him some pills—Valium, I guess—and sent him back out.

He had another three weeks to go and almost made it without any incidents, and then two hockey buddies from CFB Petawawa where he was stationed were blown up on the day he was leaving Afghanistan. He got home, and almost immediately he was hiding his drinking. The signs of PTSD were rampant. Basically, with one thing after another, I got heavily involved in his treatment. He gave me power of attorney after his first suicide attempt.

I've struggled with the medical people at CFB Petawawa. I've struggled with them for years. I was called an 800-pound elephant. When I walked into a room I was told that my son was not injured; he was an alcoholic. I said that he was not an alcoholic when he joined the military, and if he's an alcoholic now, it's a symptom of post-traumatic stress disorder. Post-traumatic stress disorder is not a symptom of alcoholism.

I know you want me to keep this brief, so I will try to do that.

Basically, I was told by the medical officer that injured soldiers had his cellphone number, and they could call him 24/7 and he would supply pain killers. My son didn't qualify.

Jon's marriage collapsed. His wife is a medic and is now assigned to the naval forces in Halifax. She took his young daughter; it'll be three years ago this coming November. He has not seen her or had any contact with her. He has been arrested and jailed and has been sent to rehab. When he tried to talk about post-traumatic stress disorder in rehab, he was told that it was outside the boundaries of the post-traumatic stress disorder they treated at those facilities.

I made over 25 trips from Toronto to Petawawa, usually in the middle of the night, in winter driving conditions, and spent three or four days there trying to put him back in one piece and meeting with his medical people. I pleaded with them to get him closer to his family, because he had nobody in Petawawa. He was shunned by his fellow soldiers and laughed at by some. Really, the only people I found in Petawawa who were compassionate were former military people who were in the Ontario Provincial Police forces. They visited his house over 25 times. He was a mess.

I finally got assurances that they would move him to CFB Borden. It was a year and a half ago. I believe it was in November. They assured me that they would have him out of there before Christmas. I didn't want him going through another winter in Petawawa. It was bleak, with no friends and nowhere to go.

Somehow that never happened. I contacted Colonel Blais later to find out why. He told me if I wanted to know why, I had to go through the freedom of information act, because those documents were classified.

So they left him there again for the winter. He tried to kill himself on March 9, 2012, and then he was almost very successful at it on April 1, when they flew him, intubated and not breathing, to the Ottawa General after another suicide attempt. Finally we got him to CFB Borden, with a much more compassionate group of individuals handling his care there. He's had progress and setbacks. He continues to have setbacks.

As I just told you, he has entered a detox program once again. I have high hopes. I was told by his psychiatrist that they now have, at the Bellwood facility in Toronto, an actual program for war-related PTSD and that they're actually sending groups of soldiers suffering from this to that program, because they can interact amongst themselves and perhaps begin a pattern of healing.

He has received a couple of awards—disability awards. He was told recently that he's 58% disabled. Fifty-eight per cent.... His family is gone, his career is gone, he has tried to kill himself four times, and he's been in and out of rehab four times, but he's only 58% disabled.

From a family perspective, it has been a tremendous burden on our family emotionally. He had a brother who passed away while he was back between tours. I don't think he ever dealt with that, so as a family....

Jon's mother and sister started Operation Santa Claus. I don't know if any of you are familiar with it. It morphed into Operation Hero. Jon's mother was given a framed flag by the defence minister, Minister MacKay, in the ceremony. They provided boxes of Christmas-type items, such as shavers and all that kind of stuff, for every serving soldier at forward operating base or in Kabul for at least the two years they were there.

I didn't have a lot of time to get these photographs together. I might pass this one around. My son slept at my house last March and came to me and said, “Dad, come and look at this.” This shows his hand after waking up in the morning. It looks like a hand that's been in water overnight. The bed was soaked, the comforter over him was soaked, and he was shaking. His hands were clenched.

I don't know if you want to pass that around. I apologize for not having more copies.

You know, the impact on a family.... The soldier went to war, but the family went with him.

We strongly believe there are more coming out of the woodwork every day. I was recently told that staff cuts, budget cuts, have affected the JPSUs, the IPSC units, across Canada. Two well-meaning warrant officers in Petawawa now have 160 clients each. That's 320 who are out of the woodwork in Petawawa. I say Petawawa because that's where the majority of my involvement with it was.

I'd like to thank you again for your time, and remind you that it's had an enormous impact on our family.

[The Chair, Conservative, James Bezan]

Thank you, Mr. Woolvett.

Mrs. Allison, you have the floor.

[Heather Allison, As an Individual]

Thank you.

My name is Heather Allison. I'm from Newfoundland, and I'm a very proud mom of a soldier. I'm not so proud a Canadian right now, to be quite honest.

This is my soldier, my daughter. I'll pass this photo around, because I want to put a face to her.

I am just new at this; my daughter has just returned. She's been back a year. In that short time, we've dealt with two ODs. The most recent was in March. We got a call. Actually a friend, another army buddy, called. The base didn't even call me, which I find really strange, since I am the next of kin. She's a single parent. But yet I don't get a call.

This is a problem I'm having. As parents, it doesn't appear we have any rights. I know they're older, but they're still our children. I'm sure your moms all want to know where you are, if you're driving on the highway, if you're safe. Well, we're no different as soldiers' parents.

When it comes to PTS, I won't put the “D” on it. I certainly do not agree that it's a disorder. I believe it's an injury, and research verifies that. A Dr. Frank Ochberg has been doing a study, and I'd like to give you this quote from him. He say it's a burden that soldiers carry, and that burden should be honoured: “This is an injury like every other medical injury earned in combat.” I think the sooner we start thinking of it that way, the sooner our children will be treated.

My story starts in 2006, the year my daughter was over. She is a very proud soldier, with great respect for her uniform. That year, 2006, was a rough time for her. She's a medic, so she has seen a lot in her young years and she has lost a lot in her young years.

This time over, 2011, she was gone for eleven and a half months. Though it started in 2006—there were little changes—I wasn't aware, as so many weren't. But this time back, when she came down the escalator and I looked in her eyes, it looked like her—it was my daughter, it was the child I gave birth to, it was my soldier—but it wasn't her.

Somewhere in Afghanistan is my daughter. I only loaned her to this country. She's on loan to all of you, and to all Canadian citizens.

I think I loaned her to you in perfect working condition. She was a strong and vibrant young woman, a wonderful mother. That's not what I got back.

And it continues. Trying to get her help is.... It's like Greg said; as a parent I'm battle-fatigued. I'm exhausted. I'm caring for her child, which through deployments I had no problem with, or through training, because it's for our country. We're a very proud military family. Anybody who's driven by my home on Quidi Vidi knows that on my fence I have a sign, eight feet long and six feet high, that says “Damn proud military parents”, with the Canadian flag.

We are proud, and we're proud of what she does. But we're not proud of how she's being treated, or of how the ones like her are being treated. They're falling between the cracks. I hear it every time I'm talking to parents.

The story is the same, so it can't be just her. It can't be that she was broken before the military took her, because if that's the case, they all were.

And it continues on. I have to tell her little guy every morning that he can't be with his mom because she's in a bad place right now. Thank God she is of mind that she knew this. She knew before I did. She asked me, when she got back, if I could keep him another year until she got settled; she'd been posted to Borden. We kept him, and now I know why. She feared for.... She knew what was coming. She had seen it in her other comrades. She didn't want him exposed to it.

Imagine yourself as the grandparent, because I'm supposed to be a fun person, and I have to sit through deployments, hoping that we don't get that knock at the door or that phone call, right? I was at war too. I was in Afghanistan every bit as much as she was.

When she came home this last time, I said, “Thank God.” Thank God that I won't be afraid when the phone rings, and thank God that when the knock comes at the door, it'll be a welcome sound. But that's not what's happening. I'm still living that nightmare. I'm still waiting for that call or that knock at the door, and that's just not right. This just can't continue. We have to do more.

I got word on Wednesday that my daughter is—thank heavens—being admitted in June. She has had nothing yet. She is being admitted to Homewood. I'm kind of concerned now, because I know now that Bellwood has the better program, which is the one I wanted her at in the first place. Trust me: her being admitted to Homewood on June 12—which, I might add, is her birthday—is a good thing, but it has been a long battle for me this year. This is me fighting, kicking, and screaming to get it done.

It shouldn't be that hard. It shouldn't be my job. It should be the military's and the government's job—and the people of Canada—to ensure that our kids are well looked after when they come home.

So June comes and she's going in. I still have her son, right? She wants him there, but he can't be there.

We took him up there on March break just to see how she would make out, because I have a fear, and I have his best interests at heart too. We took him up so she could see him. She desperately wants to see him.

One night he woke up and was afraid, because it was a strange bedroom and a strange place. He went to wake up his mom. Of course, the first thing he does is touch her face to wake her up. She comes out of the bed. Her first reaction is—she's back in Afghanistan—to protect herself. She grabs him. It scares him to death and it sets her back.

She was starting to make progress. She called me and said, “Mom, come and get him.”

It has been out of pocket for us to fly out of Newfoundland to Toronto so many times. It's costly. It has been hard on us financially, let alone emotionally. So we bring him back. My worry now is that if I had not put things in place, social services would have stepped in and taken him. This is the fear we have as grandparents of children of single-parent soldiers. Our grandchildren could be taken from our soldier at any time. That is another fear we have.

I can't believe.... I feel like I was sold a bill of goods. I really do. Back when we went into Afghanistan, I was pro.... I mean, I am proud of our soldiers no matter what they do, but I was proud of our country that we were making a stand, that we were doing something. We were told—or it was made to sound like—they would be looked after, that they would be protected, that they would have the best equipment. Well, I'm telling you, I haven't seen any of that yet. They come home and they're shunned, not only by their own, as Greg said, but by the people of this country, by the government of this country. It's shameful. It's very shameful.

There was so much more I wanted to say, but I am nervous and I'm upset, and I'm one pissed-off mother, to be quite honest. Four years down the road, I don't want to be like Greg, sitting here in front of people and saying, “Please, get my daughter help.” If any of you in this room are mothers, you know that's not going to happen. It just can't happen—and it's not stopping at my daughter. My daughter hopefully will get into this centre and will get help, because she has one thing to work towards: her child. I really hope it's successful, I really do, because we're all so very tired.

But it won't stop here for me, because there are other soldiers out there who may not have a mom or a dad or a family that will help them. I just want to let all of you know that I will be around, and I will be speaking out, and I will be demanding that they also get the treatment they so duly deserve.

With that, I would like to leave you with this quote, and you can mark my words on this one:

A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity. It dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.

That's by Agatha Christie. You can count on this mother. That is going to be my battle cry for all the soldiers who need help. I hope somebody here hears me today and will get our soldiers the treatment they deserve. If they came back with a visible injury, would you throw them into a psychiatric unit? You would make sure they got the treatment they needed in a timely fashion, as you should, once a diagnosis is made. Well, I'm here to tell you, PTS—and I will not use the “D”—is an injury. I want it done in a timely fashion. It has to be. We're losing too many.

Thank you so much. I'm a bit nervous, but I do appreciate you allowing me to speak here today.

[The Chair, Conservative, James Bezan]

Thank you very much.

We really appreciate the frank opening comments both of you have made.

With that, we're going to go to our first round of questions.

Mr. Harris, you have the floor.

[Jack Harris, NDP, St. John's East, NL]

Thank you, Mr. Chair.

I want to thank you both for coming and sharing these painful stories. Both of your children are lucky to have such dedicated and, dare I say, fierce advocates.

I want to start off with this issue of diagnosis. Mr. Woolvett, you referred to it. You said they were told the diagnosis was not PTSD but alcoholism.

I may use the “D”, Ms. Allison, because that's in the literature and all that, but the diagnosis is pretty important. I had someone suggest to me the other day that this happens a lot in the military, and that perhaps there should be a default diagnosis of PTSD if someone is exhibiting symptoms.

I saw a film on CPAC the other night called Homecoming, in which the former Chief of the Defence Staff referred to his own symptoms of PTSD. But there's a disconnect between that kind of high-level comment and the stories you're telling us today.

What do you say about that, Mr. Woolvett?

What about the case with your daughter, Ms. Allison? Was there a diagnosis given early, or was there one at all?

[Gregory Woolvett]

When I first met Jon's medical officer, he told me, “Jon drinks too much.” I said, “Yes. Right now he's drinking too much.” He said, “Did he drink like that before he joined the military?” I said, “No, he did not. He was fun-loving, like everybody else. He had a good upbringing.” He came back and drank to quell the nightmares.

Early on, when he was back, I got calls from his mother-in-law saying, “Greg, you've got to call Jon and talk to him. He's waking up with these night terrors. He bangs the wall. He throws stuff around. He wakes up in a terrorized state.” My ex-wife went to visit him and she was so afraid that she pushed a dresser across the door of the room she was sleeping in because he was pacing up and down the hall with an airsoft rifle, like he was under attack. Several times he was in his backyard, cowering in combat fatigues, shouting orders, and stuff like this. So there was not only drinking, but hallucinations, flashbacks, and things of that nature.

All I ever got from the medical officer was, “No, no, this is an alcohol-related problem.” I insisted and insisted that it was not. Their method of treatment, the first time they sent him to Bellwood, was to put him in an addictions program. They never mentioned PTSD. It wasn't until some time in, I believe, 2010 that a civilian psychiatrist contracted to the military, Dr. Suzanne McKay, who's since left, diagnosed Jon with catastrophic post-traumatic stress disorder.

[Jack Harris, NDP, St. John's East, NL]

Ms. Allison.

[Heather Allison]

Is it the same question? Okay.

As I said, we're newly into this. It's only been a year, and it's only six months since it became relevant to us what was happening with her. She is being treated by the psychiatrist on the base at Borden; she sees him once a week on Thursdays.

She has been put into psychiatric units, which I am totally dismayed about. It's for assessment, they say. It tells my daughter and all these soldiers that people think they're crazy, and they're not crazy.

The first time they put her into a mental hospital, there was a seasoned soldier who had seen four tours in Afghanistan and two in Bosnia. He was a pretty strong, brave guy. He called me. He was terrified walking down those halls. There were people running at him, yelling and screaming. There were people spitting. I asked what was going on there. When he went into her room there was a lady on a phone screaming in German and running around her room. He looked over and my soldier was in the corner or her bed, as far as she could get, with the sheets pulled up, and he said she was shaking like he had never seen anybody shake. All she could say was, “Why do they have me here?” I was astounded when I heard this.

So then I started asking around, and other parents and spouses have the same stories. I talked to one spouse who couldn't even go into the mental institution to see her husband. She was terrified. She got through the door—she made three attempts on three different occasions, but because of what she saw, people chopping wood and stacking it, and another one spinning around and yelling.... Her husband said the same thing to her: “What have you done to me?” He blamed her.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is so wrong.

[Jack Harris, NDP, St. John's East, NL]

Can I ask a question about residential treatment? In your case, Mr. Woolvett, you're accused of having kidnapped your son to get him in-house treatment or overnight treatment. Ms. Allison, you say that your daughter is going through analysis. What about the availability of that? You say there's something going on now at Bellwood. That is new and related solely for soldiers?

Ms. Allison, would you have any issue with that?

[Gregory Woolvett]

I was told by Dr. Ewing at CFB Borden that they were doing that now, and I wondered why Jon wasn't there. They sent him to rehab three times. It's been a failure every time because he's never ever been treated for post-traumatic stress disorder. He's been treated for alcohol abuse or drug abuse. They had him on eight prescription medications. These people know how to zone out, become a zombie, if you will. They can drink a 40-ouncer of vodka right before your eyes and not fall down, and then they'll snort crushed Wellbutrin that's given to them. They'll snort it because it gives them a temporary high. It takes them away from where they go.

He told me that a month ago he was sitting on the side of his bed and he looked out the window and there's a tree there. Immediately it sent him into a flashback to Afghanistan. They were in a village one day. A father pushed out a little boy to take candy, because they used to give the kids candy or little toys. When they came into the village the next day, the father and the child were hanging in a tree, bullet riddled, with their throats slit. That was the warning to the villagers not to go near the soldiers.

I'm straying from what you asked me, but he's never been treated for post-traumatic stress disorder.

[The Chair, Conservative, James Bezan]

Thank you. The time has expired.

Mr. Opitz, it's your turn.

[Ted Opitz, Conservative, Etobicoke Centre, ON]

Thank you, Mr. Chair.

I, too, would like to thank you both for being here. I know this is very difficult for you both as parents, and I know you have both been dealing with this for different lengths of time. Mr. Woolvett and Ms. Allison, you both have some of the same but somewhat different experiences.

Ms. Allison, you remind me somewhat of my own mum. She's tenacious.

When I'm asking a question—I know you're a little nervous and it's the first time—if you want to get something on the record, just flag me. I want to make sure that you get your opportunity to say everything you want to say.

I'll start with you, Mr. Woolvett. Has your son been on multiple deployments? How many did you say?

[Gregory Woolvett]

He's been on two tours.

[Ted Opitz, Conservative, Etobicoke Centre, ON]

Were both to Afghanistan?

[Gregory Woolvett]

Yes, both were to Afghanistan. The first time was on the OMLT tour, where he was in the rear party. He volunteered and they sent him over. He worked with U.S. Special Forces. That's when his first bunkmate, Matthew McCully, was killed.

I don't remember the name of the operation on his second tour, but it was with his full battalion, 3 RCR. That's where he experienced multiple deaths. On Boxing Day 2008, his bunkmate, Private Michael Freeman, was killed by an IED. The day after his birthday, January 20, 2009, they were under intense firefight. He is amazed to this day that he wasn't killed.

[Ted Opitz, Conservative, Etobicoke Centre, ON]

When he was diagnosed officially with PTSD by Dr. McKay, was there no carry-on afterwards? Did people cease to recognize that he had been diagnosed that way?

[Gregory Woolvett]

It was never accepted as PTSD. They called it OSI, an operational stress injury. They said it was any number of factors, but they treated him more or less as an addict.

[Ted Opitz, Conservative, Etobicoke Centre, ON]

Ms. Allison, your daughter has been on how many deployments?

[Heather Allison]

Two tours to Afghanistan. One in 2006 and then just recently in 2011.

[Ted Opitz, Conservative, Etobicoke Centre, ON]

You said she's a medic as well.

[Heather Allison]

She's a medic, yes.

[Ted Opitz, Conservative, Etobicoke Centre, ON]

I have the same question for you. When she was diagnosed, you're saying that afterwards there was a refusal to acknowledge that she was post-traumatic?

[Heather Allison]

As I said, we're into it a very short period of time; it hasn't been a full year.

She was diagnosed in February, after her first attempt. She had been seen. Hers is more anger. She feels betrayed. It's different. There is drinking, absolutely, which is totally out of character for her. With her, it's more her whole being. Her desire is gone for everything. When she came back this last time and Alexei, her son, stayed with us, she would call him every day, morning, noon, and night. She would call me 30 times. It was almost getting annoying. I wish that was back again. As time went on...she came in the summer to visit him. We spent a great time, but I knew then something was wrong. By Christmas, she came and it was the same thing. By January, phone calls became very limited, very short. Skyping did not exist anymore. It just went downhill from there.

[Ted Opitz, Conservative, Etobicoke Centre, ON]

I want to ask both of you, do you think there is anything the Canadian Armed Forces could have done prior to the deployment to help with the mitigation of any operational stress injuries or post-traumatic stress? As a former commander myself, I have a lot of experience with troops and colleagues who have experienced this. I definitely have a familiarity with where you're coming from on this.

Afterwards we also deal with...and oftentimes we have been quite successful in trying to deal with the stigma of it, so that people aren't stigmatized, so that people aren't ostracized, they aren't held out. From my own personal experience, it's been generally quite successful.

But prior to deployment, do you as parents think there's anything more the Canadian Armed Forces could have done to lay the foundation in preparing to have soldiers more aware of the potential...that this is something that could happen to them?