The Good Soldier: Why a Suicidal Officer Had to Go AWOL to Save His Life

BY JANET REITMAN

That Sunday night, March 29th, 2009, after the dinner dishes were done and put away, Lawrence Franks took out a bottle of Jameson and turned to his roommate, Matt Carney: "Ya wanna shot?" He asked this every night. Carney, like Franks, an officer in the Army's 10th Mountain Division, lifted his glass and made the first toast. Here's to the two of them and all that their lives now entailed: to surviving their first miserable winter at Fort Drum, to navigating the labyrinth of rules, regulations and duties that they, as newly minted second lieutenants, were still trying to make sense of. Here's to figuring it out.

Franks downed his drink, feeling the slow, soothing burn of the whiskey. He poured another shot. Take care of yourself, buddy, he thought. I'm sorry you're going to have to deal with my mess. "To you," he said to Carney.

Franks was consumed by what he was about to do: He was going to fuck over his unit, abandon his post, unfulfill his duty, shame his family, his friends, West Point, the Army, the country, God. He was deserting. Franks was 22, with the square-jawed good looks and chiseled physique that reminded at least a few of his friends of a gladiator. A meteorically high-achiever all his life, he'd graduated near the top of his West Point class of 2008, and now, less than three months into his first official posting, Franks was considered to be one of the best young lieutenants in the 2-22 Infantry Battalion, known as "Triple Deuce." All his life he'd been able to hold it together.

But it was a lie. Finishing his drink, Franks waited until he heard Carney turn on the shower, and then picked up the phone and ordered a taxi for 4 a.m. He set three alarms. He didn't want to pull a "Bay of Pigs," as he called it, by snoozing through his wake-up call.

In a matter of days, Lawrence Franks would be someone else — who, he didn't know. But he was tired of being himself. He hated being an officer. More than that, he felt unworthy. Every day was a struggle to maintain the facade, to find reasons not to die. It had been that way nearly as long as he could remember, and it had gotten worse since he arrived at Fort Drum in upstate New York. "I just need to get away," he'd written Carney that night. "I'm too weak inside." He'd hidden his agony from everyone. Still, it was a miracle that no one had realized it — or maybe they had, he wasn't sure. What he did know was that if he stayed one more minute on base he would shoot himself.



Read more: http://www.rollingstone.com/culture/features/the-good-soldier-why-a-suicidal-officer-had-to-go-awol-to-save-his-life-20150924#ixzz3mlA3dYoR