A distant cousin of mine served in Iraq until last month. His name was Jamie. He came from a family of bright, articulate people. He was a bit shy and reserved but always perceptive. He loved to read. My older brother idolized him. When he went into the Army, his family was worried, but they supported him.

Jamie came home from Iraq recently. He was quieter than before. He drank more than before. Nobody wanted to ask about the war. We knew he’d seen terrible things, but we were wary of upsetting him. He seemed haunted and unhappy. We wondered what he would do with his life.

Jamie shot and killed himself last week. I found out a few days afterward. My parents called all of the kids to tell us. My older brother took it the hardest. I was stunned. Everybody knew Jamie a lot more than I did. I never met him. I never had much to do with that side of the family. But everybody took the news hard.

Since Jamie died, I’ve been thinking about the soldiers. According to CNN, there are about 132,000 American soldiers stationed in Iraq right now. That’s five times more than the entire student body of NIU. A lot of them are our age. Most of them are willing to lay their lives on the line every day. Many of them do.

The war has been hard on a lot of them. The U.S. Department of Defense reports that 2,384 have died so far, and more than 17,000 have been wounded. Most of us know these figures — the death toll is on the news at least every week — but there is a hidden toll taken on soldiers. It may be the cause of many post-war suicides, and it may have killed Jamie. Post-traumatic stress disorder is affecting soldiers in a tremendous way.

Post-traumatic stress was identified first after the Vietnam War to describe the effects of battle on returning soldiers. The symptoms are seemingly endless: anxiety, depression, nightmares, irritability and flashbacks to name a few.

The American Medical Association surveyed 222,620 Army soldiers and Marines on leave from Iraq and found more than 21,000 of them suffer from post-traumatic stress. The study did not account for the 132,000 serving now, but the percentage is probably the same, if not greater. More soldiers may suffer from the disorder than report it. Many soldiers see it as a sign of weakness and therefore claim to have nothing wrong with them.

The military has tried to identify PTSD sufferers earlier than ever before. Leaders probably learned the lesson after Vietnam, when countless veterans came back emotionally shattered. There are now on-site therapy sessions held in combat zones — but these sessions do little to help the soldiers beyond diagnosing them. The damage has already been done.

PTSD is hitting soldiers in very much the same way it did in Vietnam. Then and now, the soldiers don’t know friend from foe. This breeds a great deal of fear and anger. Lt. Col. Alan Peterson, an Air Force

psychologist, told the New York Times of the devastation caused by ambiguous

urban combat.

“These guys go out in convoys, and boom: the first vehicle gets hit, their best friend dies and now they’re seeing life flash before them and get a surge of adrenaline and want to do something,” Peterson said. “But often there’s nothing they can do. There’s no enemy there. … They wish they could act out on this adrenaline rush and do what they were trained to do but can’t.”

Post-traumatic stress is ghostly and incessant, much like the soldiers’ human enemies.

Sufferers are torn apart by it, but military mores keep many of them from getting help. The military is commendably doing much to help them. But the responsibility also falls to us, the families they return to.

Our soldiers come home shaken. They come home hurt and lonely.

We can show them their home is a safe place. We can let them know what they’re feeling is perfectly natural and encourage them to get help. If any of your friends or family show signs of PTSD, refer them to local veterans centers or to the National Center for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

We all respect their service. Now they deserve our help.