Bluefield Daily Telegraph, Bluefield, WV

Local News

May 10, 2010

The toll war takes

Col. Ed Kornish recalls his 11-month tour in Afghanistan

BLUEFIELD — Almost two years ago, Col. Ed Kornish came back from his nearly year-long deployment in the war zone of Afghanistan, but he’s still a long way from home. In body, he has been home all along, but in his dreams, he’s still fighting an enemy and trying to protect the troops in his command.

With the exception of a few years, the military has always been a part of Kornish’s life. He graduated from Welch High School in 1974, spent four years in the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, and was commissioned as a first lieutenant in 1978 when he graduated. He spent several years in the regular Army, but when the Army wanted him to take advanced training in computers, he chose to attend law school instead. After a short break in service, he joined the National Guard and was deployed on numerous disasters in the U.S., as well as to Bosnia and the Gulf War in 1991.

“I went into Bosnia after the NATO forces were deployed,” Kornish, 52, said. “The biggest danger there was mines. In Desert Storm, I was handling prisoners. A couple of times, people drew guns on us, but in Afghanistan, several times a week, my people were engaged in combat with the enemy. It was constant the whole time I was there. I couldn’t sleep.

“I had 238 in my command and sent two of them home in boxes,” Kornish said. Throughout the time of his deployment, Kornish was in contact with his wife, Angel Kornish, his mother Emily Yeager and even this newspaper. He organized efforts to get supplies to the Afghani people in the district he supervised. Sgt. Louis Romano, a soldier from Bluefield, was serving in the unit Kornish commanded when Romano was severely wounded in combat on Oct. 27, 2007.

“We were in the most hostile part of Afghanistan at the time,” Kornish said. “I learned a lot. I’ve always been a much better leader in the military than at anything else I’ve done in my life. The adrenaline was pumping away in us all day long. When I was doing it, I was doing it.”

In the later stages of his deployment, Kornish agreed to meet with his local newspaper for an interview about his experiences. Days, weeks, months and years drifted past, but the time never came. “When I got back, I was just like a balloon with all the air let out,” he said. “I slept 10 or 12 hours a day.” During the years after he graduated from West Point, he said he knew several guys who had served in Vietnam and had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, “but I wasn’t convinced about that,” he said.

“My wife and I saw a friend who said, ‘I’m glad you survived, but you’ve changed,’” Kornish said. “My wife told me I didn’t get excited about anything. Over there, when nobody dies, it’s a good day. Things can really get out of kilter when you get back here. At six months, I knew it wasn’t going to be like the rest of my deployments. I eventually went to the Vet Center in Princeton and turned myself in.”

At first, he told a counselor that he might have a mild case of PTSD, but his counselor said he was in denial. “I fight in my dreams,” Kornish said. “Over there, you have to function. You have to step up to the plate and swing. As a leader, you’re responsible for yourself and the soldiers in your command.” He said the constant stress of the situation took a toll on him. “I’ll never be exactly the same as I was before,” he said.

Kornish came to his interview prepared with a nine, single-spaced typewritten page document concerning the conditions he found in Afghanistan as well as information about PTSD. He said that he is still working on his situation, and he thought that by coming forward about his personal experience, it might encourage others who have served in combat in Iraq and/or Afghanistan to seek help.

“Most guys under report PTSD,” Kornish said. “When they talk to you, if you tell them something is wrong, they’ll keep you over there when all you want to do is get back home. When I was in my exit interview, I answered them honestly, and they said: ‘We can’t let you go home.’ I told them all I wanted to do was to go home.

“My (condition) was caused by one deployment, but we’ve got kids doing tours over there back-to-back,” Kornish said. “Some returning vets commit suicide, some drive too fast and get into wrecks. Some of them self-medicate ... and they’re dead.

“I felt more in control over there than I do here,” he said. “There are certain triggers that I encounter that can put me back there.” He expressed heart-felt thanks to his wife Angel, and his boss, McDowell County Prosecuting Attorney Sid Bell for their understanding through times when he becomes introspective and moody.

“Right now, I’m concentrating on getting myself well and helping other veterans,” Kornish said. “If just two veterans can benefit from me telling my story and get help, it’s worth it. I realize this won’t change just through prayers. God doesn’t always give you a miracle, but I’m praying for a miracle.”

Kornish had no physical wounds when he came back, but he didn’t count on the severity of the psychological impact of his deployment. “Life was simpler when I was there,” he said. “Our goal was to stay alive, kill the bad guys and make things better. We had a narrow focus. Improve security, keep villagers from getting killed and keep us from getting killed. Life at home is more complex.”

Kornish volunteered to be activated in January 2007, arrived in Kabul, Afghanistan in early June 2007 and was assigned as an individual replacement with the 218th Brigade Combat Team of the South Carolina National Guard. The two soldiers lost from Kornish’s unit were Sgt. Edward Otis Philpot, who has served as Kornish’s gunner. The other soldier killed in action with Kornish’s unit from July 2007 to May 2008, was Staff Sgt. James David Bullard.

“They were both good men that I remember every day,” Kornish wrote in his notes. “Both were sons, husbands, fathers and brothers. They are our heroes.” He encouraged all combat veterans to acknowledge that their experience changed them, and to admit that they need help. “It is not a sign of weakness to admit that you have a problem and it is not a sign of weakness to get help,” he wrote. “For my brother veterans, you are not alone. Help is available.”

— Contact Bill Archer at barcher@bdtonline.com

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