Whenever unit leaders handle combat post-traumatic stress disorder correctly--by ensuring that whoever needs treatment gets it--it rarely makes the news. And that's unfortunate, because there are plenty of squad leaders, platoon leaders, and battalion commanders who make having a mentally straight unit a priority. On the other hand, whenever leaders completely bolo the task of making sure their soldiers are receiving the care they need, it always makes the news in a really ugly way. Like take Mark Benjamin's piece in Salon this week:

The day before Halloween 2008, Army Pvt. Adam Lieberman swallowed handfuls of prescription pain pills and psychotropic drugs. Then he picked up a can of black paint and smeared onto the wall of his room in the Fort Carson barracks what he thought would be his last words to the world. "I FACED THE ENEMY AND LIVED!" Lieberman painted on the wall in big, black letters. "IT WAS THE DEATH DEALERS THAT TOOK MY LIFE!" Soldiers called Lieberman's unit, the 1st Battalion, 67th Armored Regiment, the Death Dealers. Adam suffered serious mental health problems after a year of combat in Iraq. The Army, however, blamed his problems on a personality disorder, anxiety disorder or alcohol abuse -- anything but the war. Instead of receiving treatment from the Army for his war-related problems, Adam faced something more akin to harassment. He was punished and demoted for his bad behavior, but not treated effectively for its cause. The Army's fervent tough-guy atmosphere discouraged Adam from seeking help. Eventually he saw no other way out. Now, in what was to be his last message, he pointed the finger at the Army for his death.

Is there a chance that Pvt. Lieberman was a dirtbag who didn't really have PTSD? I guess it's possible. There are always a couple like that in every unit. But it doesn't really matter. The fact is, this guy wasn't okay. And he shouldn't have been left to handle the problem on his own—whether it was combat-induced or not. But that's not even the worst of it. The way this guy's chain of command handled his suicide attempt is deplorable. Not only did his battalion commander explain to Lieberman's mother that her son was being charged with "defacing government property" for the suicide note he scrawled on his barracks wall, but his company commander took it a step further:

The next day Heidi called Adam's company commander, Capt. Phelps. "You know," Heidi fired at Phelps, "I still have a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that my son is being charged with defacing government property and you people are more concerned about your wall than my son," she stammered. Then she threatened, half jokingly, "I will paint that wall and make this stupidity go away." A pause, and then Phelps snapped, "We'll contact supply and have them bring you the matching paint." And so, the Army allowed a mother to paint over her son's suicide note. Heidi's handicapped sister helped.

Talk about a disgrace. If this story occurred as it's been reported, then those two officers would be of more service to their country in a job other than the profession of arms. But then, that's the problem. Even though high-ranking generals have begun to speak out about PTSD and its treatment, the culture of the Army is changing far too slowly. And every leader that inhibits that progress toward understanding and dealing with combat trauma is, in effect, making the Army weaker. In fact, such soldiers aren't leaders at all. In Lieberman's case, the chain of command's actions will have a chilling effect. No one in that unit will ever be willing to step forward and seek treatment for what is a normal combat injury. And it is a combat injury. That's one of the first things that soldiers have to understand. A soldier refusing to acknowledge his or her own PTSD would be like one taking an AK round to the chest and deciding to "suck it up." You just don't do that. As renowned VA psychiatrist Dr. Jonathan Shay explains in his book, Odysseus in America: Combat Trauma and the Trials of Homecoming, PTSD is not a "disorder."

The American Psychiatric Association has saddled us with the jargon "Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder"--which sounds like an ailment--even though it is evident from the definition that what we are dealing with is an injury . . . We do not refer to a veteran who has had an arm blown off by a grenade as suffering from "Missing Arm Disorder."

Soldiers have to realize that the exposure to combat and violence in and of itself doesn't cause PTSD. What causes it are moderate to intense stress levels induced over long periods of time. It's the stress hormones that eat through your brain like battery acid. And that's why the finance soldier on the FOB can get PTSD just like the infantryman kicking in doors. If the finance soldier sits around all day for a year terrified that a mortar could take him out, that stress will cause the condition. While big Army has done an adequate job in explaining that PTSD is normal, the culture in general has been slow to accept the fact that, after enough time in a combat zone, everybody will start showing signs of mental wear and tear. And it seems to me that much of this denial results from the fact that many soldiers are afraid that PTSD isn't a treatable injury--which it clearly is. With many soldiers having now served four, five, and six combat tours, this is a tidal wave in the making. And it's only going to be stemmed when leaders at all levels come to grips with the fact that PTSD is a natural part of combat and that mentally fit troops are a force multiplier. Only when soldiers are no longer cast aside as Pvt. Adam Lieberman was will we truly be on a path toward fighting two insurgencies at maximum effectiveness.