THEBACHA/FORT SMITH
Paul Currie has seen things no one should ever see.

Paul Currie: former soldier in Fort Smith has battled post-traumatic stress disorder for two decades. - Paul Bickford/NNSL photo

But witnessing the dark side of the humanity – and helping people survive it – was part of his job as a medic with the Canadian Armed Forces.

That job left the 46-year-old Fort Smith man with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

Two of the places where Currie served – Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia – really require no description of the death and destruction he saw there.

Currie went to Rwanda for six weeks as part of a humanitarian relief mission in 1994, at the end of a genocide which killed hundreds of thousands.

"One of my first memories was a dog running down the street with a human arm in its mouth," he recalled.

Just outside the Canadians' camp, there was a graveyard where some victims of the ethnic killings were buried in shallow graves.

"We could smell the decaying bodies," said Currie, noting his commanding officer ordered the bodies be reburied and, as the graves were dug up, gases could be seen rising from the human remains. "It can't get any worse."

That was not Currie's first encounter with ethnic slaughter.

In 1993, he was part of a peacekeeping mission in the former Yugoslavia – trying to separate Serb and Croat fighters – and was present for Operation Medak Pocket when Canadians clashed with Croat forces.

"We were actually in battle. I had pictures of holes in my ambulance," said the former medic.

The ethnic cleansing he witnessed in the Balkans – including bodies dumped into wells, desecrated graves and mined dead bodies – left a mark.

One of his horror stories involves large concrete cisterns for storing water. Canadian soldiers were hot, tired and had little fresh water, and one of them had the idea of swimming in the water storage tanks.

"So you got 10 guys swimming in this little confined space, and you're bumping elbows and you're spitting water at each other," Currie said, adding they were then told the Croats had been dumping bodies into the water. "So when we were swimming and hitting each other, we weren't probably hitting each other. We were probably hitting decomposed bodies."

Currie was diagnosed with moderate PTSD in 2000, but he believes he developed the condition in 1993 or 1994 – the time of his service in the Balkans and Rwanda.

"I think it was a combination of the Medak Pocket and Rwanda," he said.

However, he was not diagnosed at that time partially because of the unwritten code of how a soldier is expected to behave.

"Because in the military, you know, man up," he said. "Suck it up, buttercup."

The symptoms included nightmares, flashbacks, insomnia, a short temper and a feeling that military superiors were out to get him.

"To put it in the military vernacular, I was a sack of hammers," Currie said. "I was crying at commercials on TV."

However, he noted he was luckier that some other soldiers affected by PTSD.

"I didn't become a druggie. I didn't become an alcoholic," he said. "But everything is regimented. The kids had to be to bed at this time. The dishes had to be placed in the dishwasher this way."

Currie noted he became very difficult to live with for his wife at the time and their two children, but he was never physically abusive. "I can say I never hit my wife, I never hit my kids."

PTSD was one of the reasons he and his wife divorced.

When diagnosed, he went into counselling, he said. "I've actually been with the same counsellor now for going on 14 years. I still do telephone counselling with her."

Currie is satisfied with the treatment options offered by the Department of Veterans Affairs for former and current military personnel suffering from PTSD.

"I've really seen the attitude change," he said, noting no one talked about the disorder 20 years ago. "They've made giant strides now."

However, a soldier can never be cured of PTSD, he said, explaining, "All you can do is learn to control it and learn to live with it."

In fact, after being diagnosed with PTSD, Currie remained in the military for eight years until retiring in 2008 as a master corporal.

After 2000, he became a military firefighter, because he knew he couldn't be a medic anymore and to avoid foreign tours.

As a firefighter, he served in a number of locations, including a base in Edmonton and, after 2006, on the patrol frigate Calgary.

"It was probably the best change I could have made," he said. "If I had known about being a firefighter, I would've joined as a firefighter first."

However, the inhalation of smoke and fumes during his time as a firefighter is blamed for the battle he is now fighting against cancer.

After retiring from the military, the Ontario-born Currie worked for three years as an emergency medical technician in Edmonton, before returning to Fort Smith where he grew up.

Currie said he still has to avoid the "triggers" of PTSD.

"I've never seen the movie 'Hotel Rwanda'," he noted, explaining his therapist advises it wouldn't be a good idea and his wife of eight years simply won't let him watch the film.

However, Currie feels compelled to educate others about PTSD. "As an ex-soldier, I feel I have to talk about PTSD because a lot of people out there don't understand."

Despite the lingering effects of his time in the military – which he joined as a 21-year-old in 1988 – Currie said he is proud of his service.

"I wouldn't consider myself a hero," he said. "I did what I was paid to do. I did my job and I think I did it well."