My name is Glen Stuart Kirkland. My family has been in Canada since long before Canada became a country. Over 100 years ago my family stood up and fought in every major conflict and in countless battles for our country, Canada. My great great uncle Stuart Kirkland was a captain at Vimy Ridge fighting for Canada during the First World War. My grandfather, also Stuart Kirkland, was in the Essex Scottish Regiment out of Windsor, Ontario, and he fought for Canada in the Second World War. He fought through Holland, Belgium, Germany, and France. In France he was cited for bravery on the battlefield, receiving the citation from Field Marshal Montgomery, and then was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal from King George VI at Buckingham Palace. His grandfather represented Canada in the honour guard of Queen Elizabeth II's coronation. My uncles represented Canada during the Korean War. My father represented Canada in the 3rd Battalion PPCLI as a UN peacekeeper and was eventually awarded the Attorney General's Award of Valour as a member of the Vancouver Police Department.
I enlisted and represented Canada in the 2nd Battalion PPCLI and was sent to Afghanistan. My tour was one of bloodshed and constant fighting. On the second-last day of my tour, my platoon was ambushed by an estimated 120 Taliban fighters. My vehicle was struck by a rocket. There were five of us in the LAV—five young, alive Canadian men. And then everything changed.
The rocket missed me by inches, exploding and killing three of us instantly. The two of us who remained were seriously injured. After the rocket struck, I was unconscious. When I awoke, I found myself pinned inside the wreckage and I was on fire. I had to pull myself out while on fire and through gunfire try to extract my dead and dying brothers in arms. Without trying to sound shocking, I had to wade through human soup while on fire to get everyone out.
As a result of the attack, I have lost 75% of my hearing. I will now wear hearing aids forever. I have lost some sight, and I still have metal chunks in me. I have scars from being on fire, and because of the attack I have suffered a brain injury. As a result, my brain has stopped telling my pancreas to produce insulin, and I have to inject myself six to ten times a day with insulin to stay alive.
I suffer from PTSD so badly that I haven't been able to visit my home in Vancouver for years. I can't handle the anxiety of being around crowds. Survivor guilt haunts me every day.
When I was in the hospital in Afghanistan, I spoke to my father on the phone. My dad said, “Don't worry, Canada will take care of you. You stepped up like we always have and you did your part, and Canada will do its part. It's only fair. Everything will work out.” My dad was wrong.
I am broken and can't be a productive, useful soldier. I wanted to be a cop someday, like my dad, but again, I'm too damaged and now I don't meet their standards.
The bottom line is that we all stood up and offered to make the ultimate sacrifice for our country.
I am not asking for a handout. We need compensation because our injuries have limited our opportunities in life. We've sustained these injuries because of our country's involvement.
When I was told I would need life-sustaining injections of a specific insulin or I would die, I expected to be treated like a human being. But unlike a human, I was given no compassion, and not even a ride to the hospital when my blood sugar was over 35—because it was Friday and the hospital was closing. I then drove myself to the hospital while slipping into a coma. The insult to injury occurred when the specialist the military sent me to see prescribed me an insulin, a drug that I would rely on to keep me alive, and I was denied because of the cost. Oh, that sucks.
This was a big eye opener. I cried—not like a person in pain, but as a person who was totally and utterly defeated. I hit a low point, or so I thought. This was overshadowed when I was told the needles were not allowed to be given out and I should look at various other avenues to find my needles.
This was not the first time I was denied a medical necessity. When I was told I had a massive hearing loss, I was prescribed hearing aids. These hearing aids have amplifiers in the back, and thus I need eyewear that wouldn't interfere. Instead of helping me acquire the proper eyewear, I was told that when I leave my house I would have to make a decision about whether I would need to see more or hear more that day.
I could go on and on about the shortcomings of the military.
I'm a proud person and was very proud to be part of the military. But hearing this, would you allow your child to serve knowing they wouldn't be looked after if they were hurt? I believe there's a question that should be answered here: Who would join up? Who would allow their son or daughter to join the Canadian military knowing that if they get injured, they will not get a disability pension?
As I said at the start, my family has represented Canada in the military for over 100 years. Our family contribution has now stopped with me. God willing, someday I will be a father, and my child will not be a part of an organization that will not take care of their own soldiers.
Thank you.