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The Independent January 12, 2006 IN MEMORIAM Sgt. Jeffrey Michael Lehner 1963 – 2005 By Sarah Farmer Sergeant Jeffrey Michael Lehner was the love of my life and my best friend, and on December 7, 2005, I lost him to a demon of the mind called post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) via the barrel of a gun. We shared good times and bad, but sometimes the bad within him was so deep I could not reach it. I – justifiably – feared for his life at times. Nevertheless, Jeff was a model of honor, respect, and goodness. The first to lend a helping hand, he volunteered at a local soup kitchen, helped in his local church, and was loved by all who met him. Many I have spoken to since Jeff’s death have shared the same feeling: Knowing Jeff for even a brief amount of time had changed them for the better. Jeffrey was a silent hero, touching many lives with his bravery, generosity, and selflessness. In 2002, Jeff’s dearest friend Shannon McGraw became very ill while visiting Santa Barbara. No local doctor could figure it out. Although she resisted, Jeff dropped everything to drive her to Balboa Hospital in San Diego, where she was diagnosed with Lyme disease. Had Jeff not intervened, she would not be living today. In 2003, Jeff was on a holiday snorkeling tour when he noticed an elderly man far from the group and in trouble. Jeff hightailed it to the drowning man, swam him back to the boat in a rescue hold, and performed CPR, saving his life. In 2004, Jeff, my mother, and my one-year-old daughter Lily were playing on the dock near our summer cabin. A heart-stopping splash was heard and Jeff was in the water like a shot. He found her on the bottom of the lake, pulled her to safety, and saved yet another life. In 2005, while working at Mercury Air, Jeff noticed a biplane on the tarmac whose brakes had not been set properly careening toward the main building. Jeff dashed at the plane and, bracing it with all his strength, stopped the plane from crashing into the building and injuring everyone within. I’m certain many more incidences of Jeff’s bravery float around the world like urban legends. That’s just the type of guy he was. He once showed up at my parents’ house with a power hose and squeegee because he noticed the windows looked dirty. He spent hours with former Marine Lt. Col. Andy Eriksen in Andy’s final days, providing him valuable companionship and allowing Andy’s family to rest. During the painted cave fires, Jeff was the first one on his neighbors’ roofs with a hose. He suffered second- and third degree burns, but saved more that four homes. Born and raised in Santa Barbara, the son of pharmacist Edwin Lehner and nurse Alberta Lehner, Jeff learned at a young age that life was synonymous with compassion, and he devoted his existence to the service of others. I have never met a man with such genuine care for human life, which makes his eight years in military service as KC-130 flight engineer a great dichotomy. Sgt. Jeffrey Lehner was extremely proud to serve his country in Afghanistan, Pakistan, and elsewhere, but abhorred the concept of taking lives. To fight the enemy was one thing, Jeff said, but to kill innocent civilians was something his heart could not handle. While the government tells us we are going after only military and outlaw institutions, the truth is we are bombing civilian villages, killing mothers and children by the thousands. Jeffrey used to tell me how he and his buddies would save their daily rations to give to the starving locals who gathered at the camp borders by the hundreds. In Afghanistan, when he was reassigned from a night flight onto perimeter duty, the plane went down and killed all eight of his fellow squad members. The man who replaced him that night as flight engineer left behind a wife and three children. Jeff never forgave himself for not being on that plane. Given its Special Ops status, Jeff was the only one to know about the flight and was assigned the gruesome task of retrieving his friends’ body parts. Often he did not know a part of the plane from a body part until he picked it up. This scar ran deep in Jeff and was never healed. He constantly suffered from “survivor guilt” nightmares. Being part of Special Ops, Jeff’s missions were not to be discussed with anyone under a certain clearance, so he suffered in silence until, two years after returning home, he joined a PTSD support group. There is much here, according to the laws of our country, I should not have said. But I am willing to be the small voice in a small town speaking the truth: Our government lures people into service with promises of benefits and glory but fails them when they return. We are fed propaganda to distract us from the facts: We fly in no-fly zones, have allowed the free flow of opium production in exchange for strategic base locations, and take what is not ours to take. We sacrifice one man or ten thousand for the greater good, but when it comes time to repair the damage, all we give our vets is a pile of paperwork and a long list of excuses. It takes six months of training to be a Marine, but only two days to be re-acclimated into society. These heroes need equal time to debrief – or, as Jeff called it, “de-brainwash.” Veterans’ benefits are being slashed, and the bureaucratic BS involved in getting help is as torturous as suffering the original trauma. Jeffrey applied for benefits for his injuries but, because of the restricted clearance of his missions, was denied and told he was never there. Imagine serving your country with pride and honor and then being told you weren’t there – you didn’t exist. Only those who serve know the torment of suffering from PTSD and the stigma of coming to the point of admitting they need help. I have great faith in our government’s ability to make the man into a Marine; now, I ask, use that same program to make the Marine back into a man. A six-month psychiatric program should be mandatory immediately prior to release. What we as a country do to those who serve is an insult and an injustice, and it must be stopped. Give these great men back what they sacrificed in the name of freedom: themselves. I lost a hero, a protector, a love, and a life partner. My daughter lost a daddy. My mother and father lost a surrogate son. The country lost a man blessed with the capacity for greatness but stunted by our nationwide unwillingness to change the system. God bless every man and woman brave and honorable enough to sacrifice so greatly in the name of the U.S.A. God bless those suffering alongside those stricken with PTSD. God bless those returning from tours of duty; I pray they don’t meet the same fate as my dear Jeffrey. I assure you that across this great country many people are going through this same thing. Can’t we change this? Is a good debriefing that incomprehensible? Jeffrey was not only a Marine – he was not expendable. He was my best friend, and I loved him with all my heart.