Their names and faces are burned into our collective memory, after their service and sacrifice was honoured through public memorials and extensive media coverage.

Every single loss, made on the country’s behalf, was deeply felt by the community with a mix of grief and gratitude.

But in 2015 alone — in the course of a single year — that same number of current and ex-service personnel committed suicide.

These soldiers fought a war of a different kind and paid the ultimate price, but very few of their stories are known. Their sacrifices aren’t often discussed.

“When I talk to people about this issue and I share that statistic, I think people are quite taken aback,” says Professor Megan MacKenzie from the University of Sydney’s Department of Government and International Relations.

“We don’t hear very much about the individuals who took their lives, either while serving or post-service. There’s a big difference in the way we talk about it.”

Between 2001 and 2016, there were a total of 373 suicides among service, reserve and former members of the Defence Force.

Of those, more than half were ex-serving personnel who had returned to their communities and civilian life.

That staggering figure is nine times the number of troops who have lost their lives in battle since Australia joined a global coalition in Afghanistan in 2001, in the wake of the September 11 terrorist attacks.

“There are some big questions around why soldiers suicide,” Prof MacKenzie said.

“We have data to show who is most vulnerable, we know there are issues with depression as well as addiction and post-traumatic stress disorder. But we don’t really know why.”

Prof Mackenzie is one of several experts speaking at a University of Sydney forum later this month exploring the issue of soldiers and suicide.

Suicide is the leading cause of death among Australian men aged 15 to 44 across the population, but rates are higher among military veterans — especially men.

Anne Goyne, who has worked as a military psychologist, said the gender divide suggests a prevailing stigma around mental illness and an unwillingness to seek help.

“When they need help, many men feel they can’t ask for it without exacerbating the negative emotions that brought them to need help in the first place,” she said.

“However, it is the rejection of ‘weakness’, whether perceived or real, that really places Australian men at a grave disadvantage.”

Those who enlist in the military are vigorously trained for war, but the data suggests they aren’t equipped with the skills to cope with life away from the frontline.

ON SUICIDE WATCH

For the first few years of their relationship, Leesa Kwok didn’t notice that there was something going on with her partner Jamie Tanner.

The infantryman spent more than a decade in the army and was deployed to Timor Leste, Iraq and Afghanistan, clocking up two tours in the latter.

It wasn’t until Leesa and Jamie moved in together that she started to see the cracks in his confident and calm persona.

“One thing (about) a lot of these young men and women suffering mental illness, they’re brilliant at masking things,” Leesa said.

“Quite often, what you see is what they want you to see.

“It wasn’t until we were actually living together and he wasn’t able to mask it 24 hours a day, seven days a week, that I became aware that something was going on.”

Jamie was hyper-vigilant about little things, obsessed with minute details of aspects of normal, everyday life. It left Leesa confused.

“Jamie always had to drive. One of his jobs in Iraq and Afghanistan was driving. He still felt he needed to check the roads, be in control of the vehicle, assess the debris, that sort of thing,” she said.

“If we were going somewhere, he needed to know every single detail — what was the purpose, who was going to be there, what was the layout, where were the exits. We had to sit in the corner of a restaurant so he could see the door and everybody in the room.

“He wasn’t good in public spaces where it was dark, noisy or crowded.”

She didn’t know Jamie before or during his service and lacked the support of military spouses, so she had no idea that these were warning signs of adjustment issues.

One evening, the couple went out for dinner in Byron Bay, northern NSW, a leisurely drive from their home nearby in Ballina.

“It was just all too much for him,” Leesa said.
“We got home and he collapsed on the floor and couldn’t hold it together anymore. He was crying. I asked what was going on and I count myself lucky that he started to talk to me. He explained to me what was happening in his head, not just that night but every other day.”

While Jamie had difficulties adjusting to civilian life, he was also suffering post-traumatic stress disorder.

In hindsight, he suspects the onset of the condition began while he was still serving and was exacerbated by his final stint in Afghanistan when he was stationed at a small patrol base in the midst of conflict.

“Every single day for nine months he was on high alert,” Leesa said. “There was always a threat, someone ready to engage. He had to know where his weapon was at every moment. Every task, whether sleeping, getting dress, eating, he had his weapon within reach.”

Since first seeking help, Jamie’s journey has been up and down, she said.

He particularly struggled during 2015 when he was terrified to leave the house and resorted to hiding in the walk-in wardrobe.

“I was on suicide watch for a lot of that year,” Leesa said.

“Mental health PTSD has peaks and troughs. There are really fantastic days, weeks and months, but there are also really terrible days, weeks and months. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. There’s no scheduling.”

A COMPLEX PROBLEM

In a report earlier this year from the Australian Institute of Health and Welfare, the Government conceded that it was increasingly concerned about the issue of military suicide.

Recent inquiries highlighted the need to improve how the Defence Force responds to the health and wellbeing needs of service and ex-service personnel.

Prof MacKenzie said exposure to conflict is not the only driver of mental illness in soldiers, which is a common misconception.

“There’s a perception that military suicide is something that happens as a result of service and war. Some of the data shows that the most vulnerable population is young men who serve and then leave the military.

“There are issues with depression and addiction that play a part as well. Those are actually significant risk factors. There’s still a lot of research to be done. We need to unpack some of that and see why.”

In an article for the Australian Defence Force Journal, Ms Goyne said “male honour” was a barrier for those in trouble seeking help — especially for veterans.

“For ex-serving men, the suicide rate is 13 per cent higher than the general population, with those aged 18 to 24 having double the rate of the general population,” she said.

In Australia generally, there has been much said and written about the deep-rooted notions of masculinity — the typical Aussie bloke must be stoic and without weakness.

That attitude is perhaps more pervasive in male-dominated populations such as the Defence Force, where an even higher premium is placed on strength.

“The perception that men are invulnerable, or must behave as such, puts men and boys at considerable risk of violence, abuse and death, including by suicide,” Ms Goyne said.

The culture within the Defence Force has undergone significant change in recent years, she said, and data shows that suicide rates among men currently service are consistent with the general population.

But once they leave, those rates spike significantly — indicating that the problem is when service ceases, Ms Goyne said.

“The ADF has succeeded in removing a barrier to care that once would have deprived (serving) men from receiving support,” she said.

“But such protection ends at the point of discharge and, for many ex-servicemen, the dilemma of integration into what they may perceive to be an uncaring and unappreciative civilian world remains a challenge.”

News.com.au is highlighting men’s mental health issues as part of our campaign The Silent Killer: Let’s Make Some Noise in support of Gotcha4Life and Movember.

THE IMPACT ON FAMILY

Leesa laughs when she recalls how she and Jamie originally met back in 2012, several months after she moved to Ballina from Sydney.

“His mum set us up on a blind date,” she said.

“To be honest, I had an exit strategy planned. It was originally meant to be a dinner but I orchestrated a move to lunch so I could go back to work. I arranged for someone to ring me with an excuse.

“I planned a speech to give his mum, who I worked with, about how he was lovely but we just didn’t click. None of that was needed.”

That first lunch was a long one and they had dinner the next day, and, as they say, the rest is history.

During the challenging times, Leesa said the impact of Jamie’s condition — he also suffered significant muscular-skeletal injuries — has impacted the whole family.

She and their two children, aged 15 and 12, have had to “undergo a rapid education” in order to help Jamie live with and manage his mental health, but they’ve also had to learn the same skills.

“It’s the whole family — not just the person with PTSD,” she said.

“The people around the veterans, loved ones supporting and caring for them, learn to live with and manage it.”

For a long time, Leesa felt “heartbroken and absolutely devastated” watching what Jamie was going through and experienced a potent mix of emotions.

“You’ve almost got to learn and accept that it’s not you. It impacts your self-esteem, you feel great doubt about whether you’re doing the right thing and making the right decisions, you sometimes question your self-worth … it’s hard.

“It’s like navigating through fog — a fog that never lifts.”

But her love and determination have seen the entire family unit pitch in together to make things as manageable as possible.

And the arrival of Tinkerbell, a Boxer support canine, had made a significant different, she said.

“Initially she was trained to help him leave the house without too much anxiety and to go into new public places. If he struggled he could focus on Tink and lose track of the lights, noises and people and calm down.”

Over time, the dog’s support has evolved and now she’s at the frontline of Jamie’s subconscious war, in the trenches with him.

“Jamie has quite violent nightmares. She senses that. She sleeps on a bed next to him on the floor. If he’s having just a disturbed nightmare, she’ll climb up and lick his face and nuzzle him. She can pull him out of it without waking him up.

“If he’s having a very violent and physical nightmare, she’ll climb up on my side and lie between us, then push me to wake me up. I can get out of bed. She then lies over his chest, does compression therapy and licks his face until he’s pulled out of the nightmare.

“For the rest of the night, she stays between us to keep a bit of a barrier to keep me safe.

“Several years ago, I made the mistake of shaking him awake by the shoulders when he was having a horrible nightmare and he threw me across the room.

“That doesn’t happen anymore because of Tinkerbell.”

SIGNS OF PROGRESS

Michael Frost, spokesman for the Australian Institute of Health and Welfare, said military suicide rates would continued to be monitored to assist in directing policy decisions.

“It’s important to note that a range of new policies and programs aimed at providing additional support to Australia’s military community, and reducing suicide rates, have been introduced since the end of the reporting period in 2016,” Mr Frost said.

“The effects (of this) will not be observable in the data for several years.”

Darren Chester, the Minister for Veterans’ Affairs, said the Government has invested significantly in mental health support services.

The Open Arms — Veterans and Veterans Families Counselling service provides a dedicated resource that has been taken up in droves.

“Last year alone, around 100,000 counselling sessions were provided to 27,000 veterans and their families,” Mr Chester said.

Prof MacKenzie said a greater focus was being placed on the transition process for ex-service personnel, but more work was needed.

“Even the language around it has changed. It’s quite new. Previously, you’d finish your service and then go off to find a civilian job.

“Data and information has changed things and it’s now a broader transition process. There are quite a lot of resources dedicated to giving service members more support, whether it’s through education opportunities, employment or continuing mental health support.

“But it’s such a complex area and we need more research to show the full picture of what’s behind this serious issue.

“If we don’t know why soldiers are committing suicide, we can’t possibly address the problem.”

JAMIE’S ROAD TO RECOVERY

In Sydney in October, Leesa sat in the stands at the Invictus Games, tears streaming down her face, her voice horse.

Jamie and the Australian wheelchair rugby team had just won gold, capping off several months of training and hard work.

“This was Jamie’s third Invictus Games,” she said.

“For the first two, he prepared just for the Games so when he came home, he’d slip into this post-Invictus slump — the post-Invictus blues.

“The difference this time though is he’s coming home with goals. We’ve learnt from that and so this time we have a plan. He’s going to play wheelchair tennis on the circuit.

“It was through Invictus that he discovered wheelchair tennis, he loved it and he’s good at it.

“He’s found it. He’s found the thing that Invictus is all about — recovery and rehabilitation through sport, and finding what that sport is and continuing on in your own community.”

If you or someone you know needs help, please contact Lifeline on 13 11 14 or visit lifeline.org.au.

For ex-service personnel, contact the Open Arms — Veterans and Veterans Families Counselling on 1800 011 046 or the ADF’s all-hours support line on 1800 628 036.