Life affirmation: how veteran turned tragedy into ambition to help others

FORT LEE, Va. (Oct. 23, 2013) -- Richard N. "Rick" Helfer has found his calling. The director of the Army Logistics University's International Military Student Office is working on his master's degree and aspires to commit himself to the drudgework of seeking out veterans who are at risk of suicide.

"I got accepted to the Boston University School of Social Work," he enthusiastically said. "I'm in my second semester, and I'm doing my research project right now."

What a difference time and intervention make.

Three years ago, Helfer received a calling of a different kind -- a mission to end his life; one that led him to an alcohol-and-drug-induced stupor, loading and unloading a firearm and contemplating his place on earth. In those crucial moments, the whole of his life -- his achievements, failures, lessons, loves, hopes and desires -- had been reduced to a mere decision to end it all using a few muscles in his index finger.

Of course, Helfer didn't proceed, citing a spirit that sobered him up, moved him to abort the attempt and affirmed his purpose to subsist.

"All I can say is that I think God reached down and touched me and said, 'No, you've got to live,'" he recalled. From that point on, Helfer said he has worked hard to find every morsel of substance he could in living, while engaging himself in everything from academics to Bible study to volunteerism.

"I try to stay busy," he said.

On the surface, one might be inclined to think Helfer would have plenty to live for. He is a husband of 35 years and father of a daughter with a Ph.D. in neuroscience. He also is a West Point graduate and a retired Army colonel with 30 years and many accomplishments under his belt. Furthermore, at 58 years of age and well-established, Helfer seems the near-opposite of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention statistics that say 20-something males are more at risk to end their lives.

So, why would any retired, seasoned former Soldier, no less a retired officer, decide it was high time to extinguish his?

The answer points to various factors -- too many money problems, too many physical ailments, too much substance abuse, the loss of a fellow Soldier and the mounting pressures of military service. Helfer said it all came to light in the latter part of his military career, culminating in an unmanageable mass of mental anguish.

"I started to slide the last five years of active duty," said the New York native who retired in 2008. "I was having ideas in my head constantly about committing suicide."

It didn't help that he belonged to the U.S. Army Special Forces, nicknamed the "Quiet Professionals." Its Soldiers undergo one year of arduous training to earn their Green Berets and they emerge with unconventional skills, hardened wills and swelled chests -- all attributes that help them survive and win in combat. Additionally, SF Soldiers are famously known to be tight-lipped about anything relating to their missions, tactics and personal sensitivities.

"In the Special Forces, we were cocky," said Helfer. "You have got to have egos bigger than this freaking room. The bottom line is that to be able to do the things that we do, you end up thinking you're invincible. We never think about death. It's a weakness."

Helfer declined to talk about any direct-action missions but did provide a snippet of what life was like as a special operator. He recalled 1991's Operation Provide Comfort that took place on the Turkey --Iraq border. Then a captain, he was charged with running a refugee camp with 72,000 Kurds. The conditions were austere and the mission gargantuan for Helfer's 70 or so Soldiers. About 20 refugees died a day. Helfer said he remembered numerous incidents that darkened his humanity, one involving a Turkish military commander bent on demonstrating the Kurds' supposed animalistic nature.

"They brought a truck of food in," recalled Helfer, "and all the Kurds ran up to the truck. They're fighting, and it's kind of like a food riot." At some point, Helfer said the Turkish commander remarked, "'I'll show you how to deal with animals,' and he went down there and shot somebody."

Helfer said he figured out long before his Special Forces career that a strong constitution and short memory were necessities to fulfill one's duties as a combat arms Soldier. He implied, however, that while he was successful at blocking out the unpleasant, they lingered on somewhere within him and became too much to bear.

"I think what happened with me was the accumulation of those things over the years," he said.

Helfer's retirement from active duty set the stage for his slide into despair. His last tour of duty was in Afghanistan where he held an "important job" working with the Afghan defense forces. That sense of importance disappeared when he returned to Fort Bragg, N.C., for his retirement, one that seemed impersonal and "humiliating" because there was no ceremony or grand sendoff, he said.

"All of a sudden, I was no longer invincible," said Helfer.

At some point, his invincibility manifested itself into unhealthy actions and behaviors such as angered outbursts, self-imposed isolation and constant suicide ideations -- all made worse through substance abuse.

"I had all kinds of freaking issues," said Helfer, who noted family members and others tried to help him.

After his near-death experience a few years ago and the Almighty's insistence that he should live on, Helfer constructed an elaborate support system that could serve to tackle any of his problems. He got counseling, enrolled in a rehabilitation program that taught him how to deal with his physical pain "without taking drugs" and joined Narcotics Anonymous.

In addition, he took yoga classes, delved into church activities and even got a therapy dog. Donna Wells, a subordinate, said she remembered some of Helfer's tribulations before he received help and said his turnaround has been substantial.

"There's a big difference between now and then," she said. "He is more calm and at ease with himself. He's done a great job of recovery, and it has changed him altogether."

Although the change has been dramatic, Helfer said he felt something was still missing.

"It was always in my mind that there's got to be something more," said Helfer. "This can't be it. Finally, I said, 'God, you've helped me with the first part, help me figure out where my path goes from here.'"

Today, Helfer's path is clear. His coursework serves as therapy to help him heal and a means to reciprocate his good fortune.

"I want to help vets because I need the help," he said. "Somebody gave it to me, and I want to be able to help them."

To that end, Helfer said those who are experiencing negative behaviors or suicide ideations should get help.

"You've got to find somebody to talk to and you've got to find a support system," he said. "You can't hold it in. You've got to talk. You've got to lay it out. You can't do it alone."

Helfer said he realizes that the nature of military service sometimes keeps veterans from talking about their experiences and seeking help. With that in mind, he said those in the position to help should be aggressive in seeking out those who need support.

"If those people are not coming to us, we need to go and find them," said Helfer. "I want to go out, bring them in; find those guys that need help and help them."

How will Helfer's past life affect his future desires? He said past experiences, however tragic, serve as the impetus for his current ambitions, but he doesn't dwell on them.

"I do not go back and think about the past," he said. "There's nothing I can do about it. It's already gone. I'm living day to day."

And living with the affirmation that even in the darkest moments, light can change a deadly impulse into a life full of purpose and compassion.

"My life today is better than it's ever been," said Helfer "I'm at a peace and at a comfort level knowing what I'm doing is the right thing to do and that I was meant to do it."

Helfer's future plans include working with at-risk veterans for the Department of Veteran Affairs.