The Times Magazine 25discharged without being properly treated,
are all textbook preconditions for a further
worsening of injurious mental health. In this
way he left the organisation he had loved.
Later, after receiving treatment for PTSD
following a referral from his local NHS
surgery, Francis regained some of his zest for
life. The bouts of introspection, anger and
guilt seemed to subside. His back injury fully
healed. A handsome, popular young man,
he qualified as an overhead linesman on the
electricity network and began working on a
contract in Scotland, where he lived part-time
in a caravan on a farm with his team.
Father to a four-year-old daughter from a
previous relationship, in May last year he told
his mother that he was about to propose to his
girlfriend. The shadows of Sangin appeared to
have left him at last.
Yet in the darkness of the night, the war
came for him again.
Shortly after 6am on Sunday, May 23, a
colleague went to Francis’s caravan to wake
him for an early shift. The former soldier
had hanged himself. There was no note, no
explanation, no words left behind. Yet the
regimental flag was tied around his shoulders.
In death, he belonged to the Rifles once more.Worse followed. Two more 2 Rifles veterans of
Afghanistan died suddenly within three weeks
of Andrew Francis. Senior Rifles officers
were already appalled at the spate of suicides
among their troops. The dead included former
riflemen who had served as teenagers in
Afghanistan, NCOs in their thirties, as well
as one of the most experienced men in the
regiment, Captain Gary Case, 50, a soldier
since 1991 and veteran of Iraq, who was found
dead in a Yorkshire hotel room in 2019, weeks
after receiving an MBE.
In theory, there is no shortage of services
to help veterans. More than 1,800 registered
veterans’ charities exist in the UK, many
professing to offer mental health treatment,
with an annual income of more than £1 billion.
Furthermore, in March last year, the NHS
rolled out Op Courage, a mental health
service specifically designed for ex-soldiers.
The problem lies in trust and timing.
Veterans from Afghanistan and Iraq are often
reluctant to speak with civilian specialists
about complex war trauma, sensing they will
be misunderstood. Paul Jacobs’ “tosser in Asda”
remark was widely repeated in variation.
Major General Thomson put it differently.
“One of the things my riflemen have told me
is that they don’t want to speak with an NHS
doctor,” he said. “That may not sound helpful,
but there is something around tribal language
that puts them at ease. As riflemen, we have a
similar DNA because of our experiences.”
Other veterans are put off seeking help by
the complex signposting systems within thehealth sector. Some have alcohol and drug
problems, typical outriders of PTSD, which
complicate their treatment options. Those at
peak crisis, if they are able to reach out at all,
find that waiting lists delay referrals in their
hour of most critical need.
Shortly after Andy Francis’s suicide, Rifles
trustees and commanding officers contacted
a recently retired soldier, Lieutenant Colonel
Baz Melia, asking him to design a programme
that could fill the emerging void between
crisis and treatment, in the hope of protecting
at-risk veterans until professional help could
pick up their care. Noticing that the isolation
felt by ex-soldiers was a key factor in many of
the suicides Melia, a soldier of 37 years who
had been promoted through the ranks and
was himself a veteran of multiple operational
tours, set out to provide a sense of renewed
community and an early warning system for
those whose mental health put them at risk.
Rebuilding a sense of connection among
those who had served in the regiment, he
established a web of more than 120 volunteers
across the UK from among Rifles veterans,
to act as mentors and guides to those in
difficulty. Complete with its own hotline,
Melia launched the Always a Rifleman
programme last August.
“When a veteran is identified as approaching
a crisis, or on the cusp of one, there is usually
a gap of between seven days and seven weeks
before they can access help from mental health
services,” Melia explained. “In that time, they
could make an attempt on their life, end up
sectioned, or find that things spiral totally out
of control. The health system just isn’t quick
enough to step in and stabilise the situationbefore help is delivered. Our programme sets
out to guide and stabilise an individual in
crisis, using the appropriate people – other
veterans who speak their language – until we
can get them professional help.”
To date, unlike its primary allies in wars
since 2001, the UK has yet to chart the scale
of its veterans’ mental health crisis. Coroners’
reports into sudden deaths in the UK make no
reference to victims’ previous military service
although, spurred by criticism, they will start
to do so by 2023. Similarly, two studies have
recently been launched by the MoD and
Manchester University into mortality rates and
causes of death of military personnel, including
veterans, who have served since 2001. The
first report is expected this summer. Their
findings are unlikely to reassure. Research by
the Costs of War project at Brown University
in the US last summer revealed that an
estimated 30,177 serving US soldiers and
veterans involved in operations since 9/11
had taken their own lives, compared with the
7,057 killed in action during the same period.Hustling the Afghanistan campaign from its
consciousness as the war drops from the news
agenda, and keen to focus on themes such
as rescuing those it left behind rather than
reflecting on who it killed while there or who
has died by suicide since, Britain has given
scant thought to the “moral injury” many of
its returned soldiers feel after fighting there.
Yet moral injury is a frequent factor noted
in PTSD studies, and one which may worsen
in time as soldiers re-evaluate their actions
as part of a campaign that ultimately failed.
“When we are taken to war, our prime
issue becomes the mission, and the mission’s
morals define how the war is being fought,”
explained Dr Butussil. Combat Stress received
double the normal number of calls from
former servicemen in the month following
the Taliban’s capture of Kabul. “But there are
times in an operational situation where those
morals are challenged, and the right thing
isn’t done, or rules are broken or promises not
kept. Perhaps the whole war wasn’t what we
thought we were fighting for. That’s moral
injury, and it complicates mental illness.”
The phrase, with its suggestion of mirrored
victimhood, is weird enough for most soldiers
to laugh at, but those who spoke to me of
civilians they had unwittingly killed were
haunted by the experience. Ed Lycett was a
platoon commander with 4 Rifles in Helmand
in 2009. Fourteen members of his platoon
were wounded during the tour, including
two soldiers who became bilateral amputees.
Twelve years later, Lycett described to me a
summer patrol that echoes with him still.
The patrol went out in the morning. A
rifleman was wounded by an IED, which
permanently damaged Lycett’s hearing.THERE WAS NO NOTE, NO
EXPLANATION. YET THE
REGIMENTAL FLAG WAS
AROUND HIS SHOULDERS
Rifleman Andrew Francis, who took his own life last yearCOURTESY OF SHARON GARTON