‘God, I Need Help’: 9/11 Military Heroes With PTSD Still Fighting A War At Home
A Glock 19 handgun on his lap, the decorated combat veteran prepared to take his own life.
“I’m telling you, I was going to become a statistic,” retired Air Force Lt. Col. Damon Friedman said.
Every day, an estimated 22 U.S. veterans die by suicide. Friedman, a special warfare officer who served four tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, intended to join them.
“I had a round in the chamber, and Satan was whispering all those lies in my ear,” he recalled.
The taunts sounded like this: “Damon, you’re worth a million dollars dead, and you don’t have to come home anymore with all your anger. You don’t have to tear down another door or punch in another wall. Everybody would just be better because the monster’s not home anymore.”
But then — on that dark day in 2010 in his Florida living room — Friedman heard a different voice. This one, he’s certain, belonged to God.
“I’m not a charismatic. I’m not a Pentecostal. That’s not derogatory — I’m just not,” Friedman said. “I’m a conservative believer, a Christian, a sinner saved by grace. And I heard the Lord.
“And he said, ‘I have plans for you. I have great plans for you to win and persevere, not to lose.’ And that’s when I put the gun down. And I said, ‘God, I need help.’”
Retired Air Force Lt. Col. Damon Friedman rides in a Humvee during an overseas deployment. (Photo provided by Friedman)
Cost of the war on terror
Wednesday marks the 23rd anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks that propelled the United States into two decades of war.
A 20-year military veteran — first with the Marine Corps and later with the Air Force — Friedman knows firsthand about the war’s long-lasting effects.
As he tells it, “The cost of the war on terror was paid by my wife and kids.”
Dayna Friedman, his wife of 24 years, said she agrees with her husband’s assessment “to an extent.”
She grew up in an Air Force family, which made her familiar with military life. But her husband’s repeated extended combat deployments were new. And the stress was trying for her and their children: Hunter, now 17; and Brooklyn, 13.
“The big change was after he’d come back from a few deployments,” Dayna said, “noticing the difference in his personality and some of the invisible wounds that he was struggling with.”
He experienced headaches, blurred vision and nausea.
His temper flared easily.
Not until years later — after they began to research and dig into his issues — did the Friedmans come to understand his struggles.
“So that was a challenge for both of us,” she said.
Damon and Dayna Friedman lead SOF Missions. He serves as president, and she serves as vice president. (Photo provided by the Friedmans)
Care for body, mind and soul
After contemplating suicide, Friedman finally got the help he needed — body, mind and soul.
He spent another decade serving his country.
While still in the Air Force, he — along with Dayna — started a faith-based nonprofit called SOF Missions. The SOF stands for “Shield of Faith.”
For a few years, SOF Missions focused on international mission work, such as medical clinics, food distributions and orphanages.
But in 2016, the Friedmans, who live in the Tampa area, changed the emphasis. Now SOF Missions exclusively helps veterans who — like Damon — struggle with post-traumatic stress disorder and other challenges from military service.
“I feel that it’s important because we’ve had personal experience trying to get my husband the care that he needs,” Dayna said. “It was very difficult when he was in the military, even more difficult out of the military, because there’s not a lot of resources that are easy to navigate.”
So far, SOF Missions has raised about $10 million and helped more than 300 veterans through its intensive “Be Resilient” clinics and retreats, the Friedmans said.
About 30 health care practitioners work with the veterans during their time in Florida — typically five-day visits — and then follow up after their return home.
“We do head to toe, bumper to bumper — psychological, social, physical, cognitive, spiritual care,” Damon said of the approach.
“So we invest a ton of money on one person at a time,” he added. “It’s the same way that I found hope, the same way that I got care, and we just believe that that’s how you combat the suicide epidemic.”
True healing requires a holistic treatment plan, Dayna emphasized.
“We kind of triage veterans and go down the list,” she said. “We say, ‘OK, what are the things that you need help with? Do you have traumatic brain injury? Do you have chronic pain? Do you need a service dog?’ And everybody’s different.”
Retired Air Force Lt. Col. Damon Friedman speaks at a church. (Photo provided by Friedman)
Keeping soldiers from ‘bleeding out’
Retired Army Capt. John Arroyo, a 20-year military veteran, deployed twice to Afghanistan and once to Iraq.
But the Green Beret avoided physical injury until April 2, 2014. That’s when a shooting spree killed three soldiers and wounded 12 others, including Arroyo, at Fort Hood, Texas, now known as Fort Cavazos.
Arroyo, now a pastor on staff at OpenDoor Church in Burleson, Texas, suffered a .45 caliber bullet wound to the throat.
At first he thought he’d bleed out.
“In that moment, it was easier to stay on the ground and die,” he recalled. “I think that’s what a lot of veterans are going through right now. There’s a lot of soldiers that are bleeding out, and there’s an opportunity for them to get up.”
In Arroyo’s case, he heard the audible voice of Jesus tell him to get up, he said. His wife, Angel, needed him to survive, the Lord conveyed to him.
Still, he faced a long road to recovery, including residual nerve damage and right arm paralysis from the shooting and lingering knee and foot issues from his military service.
Maj. Gen. Jimmie O. Keenan presents the Soldier's Medal to Army shooting victim John Arroyo as his wife, Angel, looks on during a 2015 ceremony. (U.S. Army photo)
Not until 2022 — eight years after the attack — did he receive the full care he needed.
That’s when he met Damon Friedman through the Veterans Service Alliance.
Damon introduced him to the SOF Missions program.
“I didn’t realize that I was still carrying things that I needed healing from,” said Arroyo, who as a Green Beret jumped out of airplanes and carried 100-pound rucksacks up mountains.
God used SOF Missions, he said, to help him regain his quality of life.
“A lot of it, man, was just getting your sleep, nutrition and exercise back in order,” Arroyo said. “And that’s like 90% of what veterans are dealing with. … And then you get to work on your mental health. And you get to have a relationship with Jesus. They introduce you to all of those things.”
SOF Missions doesn’t “pound the Bible in anyone’s throat,” he stressed.
But he returned home, he said, “refreshed in the Holy Spirit.”
“On 9/11, so many people joined the service because they wanted to fight for their nation,” Arroyo said. “And so now, what SOF Missions is doing is helping them fight in their home — helping them get their mental health back, helping them get their physical health back — because they were willing to sacrifice.”
Retired Army Capt. John Arroyo suffered a bullet wound through his neck. (Photo provided by Arroyo)
‘Light in a dark place’
Anyone who knew Damon Friedman before 2010 might laugh at the idea that he runs a faith-based nonprofit.
“What?” he’s sure they’d say. “There’s no way that egomaniacal, selfish, blankety blank, blank, blank” has found a calling helping fellow veterans.
“And all the stuff that they’d say about me is true,” he said with a chuckle.
But not anymore.
“All of a sudden, God radically changed and transformed my life — Boom! — like a lightning bolt,” he said of his near-suicide experience. “And now, all I do is try to serve him in the best capacity possible because life is so fragile. Man, it’s fragile.”
Friedman’s mission — his heart’s deepest desire — is to win the war at home.
“You go through hell overseas,” he said of his fellow veterans. “Gunfight after gunfight. Bullets after bullets. RPGs after RPGs. IED after IED.
“And then they come home. And six months later or two years later, you find out they shoot themselves right in the living room, and their kids find them dead.”
Retired Air Force Lt. Col. Damon Friedman speaks about his journey of hope and healing. (Photo provided by Friedman)
If not for his faith, the pain and trauma might overwhelm him.
“I’m telling you, man, it’s difficult,” said Friedman, who earned a doctorate in intercultural studies from Fuller Theological Seminary. “I thank God that I have a Savior and that he is the essence of hope. He is the essence of freedom. He is the light in a dark place.”
Bobby Ross Jr. writes the Weekend Plug-in column for ReligionUnplugged.com and serves as editor-in-chief of The Christian Chronicle. A former religion writer for The Associated Press and The Oklahoman, Ross has reported from all 50 states and 18 nations. He has covered religion since 1999.