Student veterans turn to campus groups for help adjusting to college

By Dominick DiFurio

Training, reflexes and anger flowed into Devon Caballero-Zarate the day he had an altercation with his ex-wife’s boyfriend, using his tattoo-smothered forearms to twist the man’s wrist, intent on breaking it.

Fellow veteran Jordan Sherwood (right) talks with Mesa Community College student Devon Caballero-Zarate (left) about switching into a more suitable class.

Fellow veteran Jordan Sherwood (right) talks with Mesa Community College student Devon Caballero-Zarate (left) about switching into a more suitable class.

“I just reacted,” Zarate recalled, saying he also smashed the boyfriend’s head into a car windshield before the Las Vegas Police Department showed up.

Zarate was a special purpose mechanic stationed in Kadena, Japan, from 2001 until 2003 when he was discharged. His post-service disabilities stem from non-combat related incidents, particularly the murder of his father while Zarate was serving overseas.

“I snapped… plain and simple, I snapped.”

His father’s death sent Zarate into a psychological state that his superiors thought gave enough reason to send him back home permanently, Zarate said.

He now studies at Mesa Community College, hungry to have his hands on a four-year degree in the near future.

“Being a soldier, the military, that was my world… that meant everything to me,” Zarate said.

Many student veterans, like Zarate, say their military experiences leave them feeling differently than other college students, and so they turn to organizations like the Student Veterans of America to help them.

SVA is a national organization with 883 chapters across the United States. These chapters assist veterans in their transition into the college environment, some of whom suffer from post-traumatic stress and are juggling school with demanding lives. They have families and some have jobs.

Jordan Sherwood, a former member of the SVA chapter at Mesa Community College, says there’s more to life for student veterans than “going to class for the day and then going home, calling up your buddies and partying… I mean there’s always that too,” he joked.

Veterans groups on campus are a place for these students to connect with other veterans.

The Veterans Club at Arizona State University, where Zarate attended school prior to MCC, provides opportunities for members to come together through community service, social events, one-on-one guidance, and political activism.

At an October ASU Tempe Veterans Club meeting, members congregated in the evening over a couple boxes of Papa John’s pizza. Its president, Walter Tillman, runs through his agenda in front of a dozen veterans, discussing political issues, community service and social events.

As a veteran, Tillman is active in Arizona politics and encourages members of the club to reach out to elected officials and voice their opinions about student veteran issues. Recently he worked with Congresswoman Kyrsten Sinema, a Democrat from Arizona, to push several bills that would further veterans benefits.

“It’s kind of in our best interest,” Tillman elaborated.

Joanna Sweatt is the Military Advocate at Arizona State University and is skeptical of mixing politics and veteran support. Sweatt is a U.S. Marine Corps veteran and works one-on-one with veterans that need assistance at school or who simply need some company.

“Politics are stressful, no matter how much passion you have for them,” she said.

Sweatt says that she sees more successful veterans emerge from support groups that focus on service and support.

MCC also has a significant veteran population. The MCC chapter president Brian Dozier says he prefers to focus on brotherhood.

Zarate, for example, missed three days of school after his altercation in Las Vegas. He had trouble communicating his situation to teachers and was able to go to Sherwood for help. Sherwood also happens to be an employee at the Office of Veteran Services at MCC. He took Zarate under his wing, helping him communicate to teachers his struggles. He also assisted in getting Zarate into more suitable classes.

“I’ve been there,” Sherwood said of Zarate’s situation.

Sherwood also served in the military and got himself through a two-year degree. He’s now working on a Bachelor’s degree. He says he understands the complicated scenarios of fellow veterans, adding that student veterans join the club to find help with exactly these scenarios.

“We’re all fighting the battle to assimilate back into civilian life,” MCC veterans club member Ted Morrison added.

Families struggle to cope with multiple deployments

By Sebastian Zotoff

Army Staff Sergeant Kelli Kerber first deployed to Iraq in 2007, leaving behind her three children, their goodbyes said at their grandmother’s house in Slidell, Louisiana.

Kerber’s two youngest children were too young to realize what it meant for their mother to be deployed. Gabrielle, her oldest child, in some context, did understand.

“She thought that I had chosen to leave them, she wouldn’t speak to me, she was very sullen, and just angry,” Kerber said.

Today, with the faint memory of those days, Gabrielle, now 15, says, “I just didn’t realize why she had the go.”

Army Staff Sergeant Kelli Kerber, her husband, Army Staff Sergeant Christopher Kerber and her three children (from left to right) Gabrielle, Layla and Troy celebrate their mother and stepfather's return from Iraq.

Army Staff Sergeant Kelli Kerber, her husband, Army Staff Sergeant Christopher Kerber and her three children (from left to right) Gabrielle, Layla and Troy celebrate their mother and stepfather’s return from Iraq.

Kerber, 36, is one of more than 280,000 female veterans who have since returned home from the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, about 12 percent of whom were single mothers while serving in the military.

For Kerber, that meant leaving her children with their grandmother so she could serve as an X-Ray technician in the MEDCOM unit in Baghdad.

“The third day I was there was the first time we had traumatic amputations” she said vividly recounting what she saw.  When the medical evacuation call came through, Kerber started to prepare herself, adding, “The mental part is what kills you.”

In one particular incident in February 2007, Kerber described an explosion in which  “a female suicide bomber had gone to a playground where kids were playing soccer and detonated herself – so our hospital was full of kids.”

The children, “with this tremendous look of confusion,” were about the same age as her own, she said.

In late 2012, Kerber was deployed a second time – to the American Embassy in Baghdad. “The second time it wasn’t nearly as bad as when I deployed the first time” Kerber said.

It’s been four months since she returned from her second tour in Iraq and for the first time, she and her children are living far from a military base in a Surprise, Ariz. suburban home. Her children Gabby, Layla and Troy are now 15, 13 and 11 years old.

Kerber originally joined the Army reserves to pay for a college education but transferred to active-duty following Hurricane Katrina. “The day it [Hurricane Katrina} hit, August 29th, 2005 was Gabrielle’s birthday,” Kerber said.

After five days of living with friends in Georgia, Kerber and her three children returned home to find a tree torn out of the ground and laying through the walls of her home.

“What wasn’t damaged by water, was damaged by mildew and mold and it just had horrible stench – so it wasn’t livable at that point. I know they were going to repair it but I had these three little kids looking at me with five days worth of clothes – and that was all that we had,” she said.

“We lost everything [in Katrina], “ she said with her southern twang. Her mother’s house was flooded and their house destroyed.

The only option the Army reserve soldier and single mother saw as a solution was to enlist in active-duty, even with a high likelihood of deployment.

Kerber already was separated from the children’s father, but both were deployed to Iraq.

“You know, you have expectations of what home is going to be like when you return, but that’s where you fail,” she says.

When Kerber first came home, she described how detached she felt from her children: “I remember going to the grocery store and thinking; I don’t even know these kids. I knew them as babies.”

According to experts and doctors, the longer the parent is apart from their child, the more problems the child is likely to experience. In a study conducted by the National Institute of Health, three-fourths of veteran families have reported problems in the home – such as children acting afraid of their parents or having difficulty expressing affection.

Kerber calls her kids strong and resilient for going through what they went through, “Things that would be a catastrophe to most kids – [Kerber’s children] think whatever.”

Kerber is now married to another veteran of the Iraq war, Staff Sgt. Chris Kerber, an Army recruiter.

She says she has worked through the stresses and images of a war hospital, where she helped save Iraqi children and fellow soldiers’ lives. Kerber now is attending Arizona State University, working toward another college degree.

But she can still rattle off the name of the first American soldier she saw die in the hospital.

“His name was James Ellis, he was 24-years-old and he was from Valdosta, Georgia,” she said.

She also saw a fellow service woman die, a nurse who worked with her in the hospital. The woman was crossing the street to go to the gym when a barrage of rockets struck the area around the hospital. Soon to be married, she died in the trauma room.

“My heart just sank,” Kerber said.

A Mesa Army veteran’s brain injury went undiagnosed for years

By David Ryan

After more than a decade of crippling headaches, alcohol and drug abuse, a psychiatric appointment unlocked a decade of mystery for Army veteran Kenny Baca.

Baca, 45, had lived for 15 years with an undiagnosed traumatic brain injury inflicted in a tractor trailer accident when he served in the U.S. Army Reserve in Arizona.

In the years after the accident in 1991, Baca spent months in jail for multiple DUIs. He couldn’t keep a job framing and painting houses because the more he worked, the worse his headaches became. He was aggressive and at times, would call his mother – lost – unable to figure out where he was.

While traumatic brain injuries primarily have been associated over the last decade as a signature wound of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, every year more than 1.7 million Americans suffer a TBI, according to the Centers for Disease Control.

“The TBI is such a hard thing to diagnose, it’s not something physical. It’s not like a limp, it’s an invisible injury,” said Baca, who now lives in Mesa, Ariz. “I’m sure if I was walking around for 15 years not knowing, then there are plenty of people out there undiagnosed.”

In 2006, a Department of Veterans Affairs psychiatrist agreed to review the original medical records from Baca’s accident. She found a note about significant head trauma that never was diagnosed or treated as TBI by military or VA doctors. A VA neurologist later confirmed Baca suffered from TBI.

“Knowing that something is wrong, but nobody can tell you what … it finally brought some hope into my life,” he said. “That was the beginning of a lot of changes for the better.”

Baca’s accident happened on a two-week mission in Pomona, Calif. Baca was driving a soft-top tractor trailer carrying construction equipment on a freeway during rush hour when a driver cut him off. The tractor trailer slammed into stopped traffic.

Baca remembers the sound of metal hubcaps scraping against pavement and the smell of rubber burning before the trailer rolled and grated to a rest on the pavement with the passenger’s side facing the sky.

“I wasn’t in a seatbelt, and that’s probably what saved my life,” Baca said. “I probably would have gotten decapitated.”

Baca found himself partially ejected from the truck, pinned between the truck body and burning canvas top. His passenger was in a seatbelt and called Baca’s name.

“My name was the last thing that he said,” Baca said. “I was pinned under the truck and couldn’t help him, I couldn’t respond.”

Baca was pinned for 27 minutes.  He suffered a broken left femur, broken ribs and deep gashes to his face.

He spent six weeks recuperating. The damage to nerves in his legs was extensive. Doctors told Baca to get used to a wheelchair.

But with the help of a physical therapist, Baca began his recovery. It was two years before Baca took his first step, and three before he walked for the first time.

One day during a family gathering, his mother and sister looked up from the couch to see him standing. He walked from the family room, out the sliding door and jumped in the pool.

“I don’t know if he practiced at physical therapy,” said his mother Linda Madrid. “But it was just amazing to see.”

At 26, Baca moved out on his own and was working construction. But some days, he wouldn’t show up to a job and was fired.

Over the next 12 years, he said he was drinking multiple six-packs a day, and at times mixing alcohol with marijuana, cocaine or meth.

“I was self-medicating, trying to fit in, trying to work… trying to be a working person, somebody that contributes,” Baca said. “Self-medicating is a scary place to be. If you’re drinking, you have chronic pain, you can’t see things any other way. It’s hard to imagine not coming home and drinking beer.”

Eventually he mixed beer with hydrocodone, an opiate painkiller he was prescribed for chronic pain.

“I was really tired of my life,” Baca said. “I think I got really tired of it when I got my last DUI and went to jail. I wanted to change. I didn’t know how, and decided to get counseling.”

Baca’s new doctors worked out a treatment plan, but warned him if he continued to drink and use drugs, he was a prime candidate for Alzheimer’s at an early age. Baca hasn’t had a drink since.

He moved closer to his family and got married.

“If I didn’t get diagnosed with the TBI, who knows if I’d be here today?” Baca said. “Sometimes I wonder that.”

Army chaplain helps military families affected by suicide

By Erin Kennedy

In the midst of sleep during a 2012 deployment to Kuwait, Army Chaplain (Capt.) Doug Windley was awoken by a call from the Red Cross informing him that the brother of one of his soldiers had been murdered back home.

Army Chaplain (Capt.) Doug Windley, shown here in Kandahar, served with the North Carolina National Guard in Kuwait, Afghanistan and Qatar.

Army Chaplain (Capt.) Doug Windley, shown here in Kandahar, served with the North Carolina National Guard in Kuwait, Afghanistan and Qatar.

Windley, of the North Carolina National Guard, left his tent at 3:00 a.m. to wake the soldier, one of many times in the chaplain’s career that he was called upon to deliver grim news.

“I’ve never found a phrase or words that have the power to take away someone’s pain,” Windley said. “Just being present with them and not leaving them alone is the best thing to do.”

Windley’s experiences as a military chaplain in North Carolina and on deployment in Kuwait, Afghanistan and Qatar have brought him to his work as a staff associate of the Survivor Care Team at Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors (TAPS).

TAPS, based out of Arlington, Va., is a 24/7 program that helps people who have experienced the death of a loved one in the military, regardless of their relationship to the individual who passed away.

As a chaplain on deployment, Windley served as a pastor for soldiers overseas. He performed religious services for soldiers who followed Christianity, as he did, and provided a place of worship for soldiers of other religions as well. Since returning to North Carolina at the end of 2012, Windley continues his work by marrying soldiers, being there for the birth of a soldier’s child, attending soldiers’ funerals, and helping soldiers adjust to life at home after returning from deployment.

“There are three phrases I always keep in the back of my mind as a chaplain: nurture the living, care for the wounded and honor the dead,” Windley said.

At TAPS, Windley provides support and care to those left behind after a suicide by helping them through their grieving.

Since 2010, suicide has been the second-leading cause of death for service members, with war injuries at number one, the Armed Forces Health Surveillance Center (AFHSC) found.

According to data collected over eight months by Arizona State University’s News21, veterans are killing themselves at more than double the rate of the civilian population with about 49,000 taking their own lives between 2005 and 2011.

Records from 48 states show the annual suicide rate among veterans is about 30 for every 100,000 of the population, compared to a civilian rate of about 14 per 100,000. The suicide rate among veterans increased an average 2.6 percent a year from 2005 to 2011, or more than double that of the 1.1 percent civilian rate, according to News21’s analysis.

Like TAPS, Cheryle Phelan, suicide prevention coordinator at the Department of Veterans Affairs in Prescott, Ariz., helps connect survivors with other survivors. When a veteran suicide occurs in the region of northern Arizona, Phelan calls the family to give them contact information for survivors in regional suicide groups.

“It’s different when someone dies from cancer or a different disease,” Phelan said. “When someone dies of suicide, family and friends are always thinking ‘What should I have done?’ ”

By connecting a newer survivor with someone such as an older veteran spouse affected by a military suicide in the past, the newer survivor learns how to cope better and is assured they can make it through the death, Phelan says.

“With suicide, it’s important that the survivors are around people that can really empathize with them,” Phelan said.

Windley refers to the process of new people and organizations offering support to survivors as the “address book changing.”

“Suicide is an enigma to many people,” Windley said. “I want to run to them to help in the moment; I want to run toward the fire.”

A little-known policy helps military spouses stay in U.S. legally

By Kendra Szabo

Maria Quiring’s son was just months old the day the deportation notice arrived at her El Mirage home. Despite her marriage of five years to a U.S. Air Force serviceman, Quiring was ordered back to her native Mexico.

“I was so afraid of the door,” Quiring said. “My little one was a baby. You see all this on the news so I thought they would come to my door with guns and take me and leave my kids.”

“I didn’t know if I would lose her,” said her husband Jared Quiring, a technical sergeant stationed at Luke Air Force Base.

Had a Department of Homeland Security policy called Parole in Place not found her a loophole, Maria Quiring would not be where she is today, watching her now 5-year-old son J.J. assemble a Hungry Hungry Hippos game on the floor.

Parole in Place, an unofficial policy allowing certain immigrants to adjust their legal status, started as a means of protecting citizens of Cuba, crime victims and battered women. But in 2008, under the George W. Bush administration, the U.S. government announced military families could qualify under the policy.

Maria Quiring left her home country of Mexico as a 19-year-old in 1999 when her former husband brought her to the United States as an undocumented citizen. After a year and a half, they were divorced.

Three years later, in 2004, she married Jared Quiring. She applied for citizenship, but because she entered the country unlawfully, the letter she received in 2009 notified her she would be deported and barred from returning to the United States for 10 years before she could return and apply for citizenship again.

“I was devastated,” Maria Quiring said. “My whole world was turned upside down. It meant not getting to be with my kids or husband for up to 10 years. It was chaotic.”

Military personnel are not allowed to travel to Mexico, which meant Jared Quiring would not be able to even see her.

“The first thing I did was ask my commander for permission to visit her and he pretty much said no,” he said.

It was Phoenix immigration attorney Judy Flanagan who told Maria Quiring about Parole in Place.

“This allows people with unlawful presence who have a spouse in active duty military to be granted a legal fiction saying they entered legally, circumventing having to leave and having to get the waiver,” Flanagan said.

In a letter to Congress in August 2010, former Department of Homeland Security Secretary Janet Napolitano wrote that, “On a case-by-case basis, DHS utilizes parole and deferred action to minimize periods of family separation, and to facilitate adjustment of status within the United States by immigrants who are the spouses, parents and children of military members.”

Immigration attorney Margaret Stock said that because the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services has no official memorandum for Parole in Place, not many attorneys know about it and not many people have utilized it. For Maria Quiring, the process turned out to be simple.

“All they did was look at my paperwork and approved my residency for one year,” she said. Then, after that, it was only three months until I had my interview (for Legal Permanent Residency).”

At the interview, on Nov. 1, 2011, Maria Quiring was approved as a Legal Permanent Resident. Two weeks later, she got her green card.

“I call it the military pass,” Flanagan said. “You have a spouse in the military and you get some special benefits. It’s totally out of the ordinary. It’s like a magic button.”

The Quiring family felt the same way.

“That was probably the best news I had heard in a long time,” Jared Quiring said. “I leave in a couple months for Korea for a year. I know she’s going to be okay when I return.”

And his wife feels safe, too, knowing she’s residing in the country legally.

“I’m at peace and at ease knowing I’m safe and fine here,” Maria Quiring said. “But, I do want to become a U.S. citizen. I’m already studying for my test.”

Next year, she can apply for citizenship.

“I told my husband it’s better they messed up my paperwork the first time,” she said. “What people intend for evil, God intends for good.”

In Portland, One Vet Finds Peace with Puppets

By Forrest Burnson, News21

PORTLAND, Ore. – By day, Clint Hall, an Army veteran and supply chain analyst, works with spreadsheets to track shipments for Adidas Group. By night, he takes to his sewing machine to make hand puppets and plush animals.

Hall calls them “wiggle whales.” They’ve become more than a hobby; Hall has started selling them on Etsy.

“The puppets are silly,” the combat veteran said. “That’s why I enjoy making them so much.”

After serving Infantry tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, Hall returned in 2005 and was honorably discharged in 2007. Following his return home, Hall was diagnosed as having post-traumatic stress disorder.

In addition to therapy, Hall, now 35, found a creative outlet in making puppets. He looks at making puppets as a way to work through whatever problem he is mulling.

“It’s a problem-solving tool for me. And it happens to add value to my life,” he said. “Because then I have something positive to share with a friend, or give to somebody.”

Post-9/11 veteran creates smartphone app

By Anthony Cave, News21

At the memorial for a fellow Marine, Iraq and Afghanistan combat veteran Jacob Wood happened into several Marines who he didn’t know lived nearby.

As they gathered to honor a Marine who served in combat with Wood, but committed suicide in March 2011 shortly after coming home, Wood saw the need for them to connect.  That gave Wood the idea for Position Report (POS REP), a smartphone application that connects veterans via GPS to an interactive social network.

On POS REP, veterans can pop "flares," sharing local events with other connected veterans. (Courtesy of Anthony Allman)

On POS REP, veterans can pop “flares,” sharing local events with other connected veterans. (Courtesy of Anthony Allman)

Wood hopes his app, in a test phase now with more than 4,000 users, can prevent veteran suicides. But he realizes there is no easy solution.

“It’s very complex, there is certainly not any silver bullet to the issue,” he said.

However, POS REP, in Wood’s words, “leverages technology.” It allows veterans to communicate with one another, set up events through location-based “flares” and even list their service record and awards.

Post-9/11 veteran Keith Finkle, 30, has used the app since January. Finkle, who did two tours in Iraq from 2005 to 2009, appreciates the sense of community the app brings.

He used it while finishing a bachelor’s degree in interdisciplinary studies in the spring semester at Arizona State University.

Finkle has made initial contact with just one veteran so far, but the access itself is rewarding, he said.

“It was more of a ‘hey, here I am,’” he said. “It’s just good to know that you have that connection, it kind of validates the idea.”

And Wood hopes a federal agency feels the same way. He has shared his app in Washington, trying to garner support.

Meanwhile, Wood projects a full launch in “three to four months.” And Finkle, too, will be ready. “The content is right at the forefront of what we should be trying to do,” he said.

What We’re Reading, Week 11

By Chad Garland, News21

What We’re Reading, Week 11:

Judge Orders Disclosure for Veterans Subjected to Chemical, Biological Weapon Experiments (Steven Nelson, 7/29, U.S. News & World Report) The U.S. government must notify veterans who were used as test subjects in classified programs when authorities are made aware of new information related to their “well-being,” a federal judge ruled last week. The programs, which ran between 1950 and 1975 according to declassified records, exposed hundreds of soldiers to nerve agents, sarin gas, mustard gas and hallucinogenic drugs, though exactly how many soldiers were involved is unclear.

Mysterious Dancing Lights In Afghanistan (Robert Krulwich, 7/30, NPR) A curious thing happens some nights in Afghanistan as some helicopters settled onto landing zones, a curious and beautiful thing – the air around their blades sparkles and dances with trails of light. War photographer Michael Yon named the mysterious phenomenon – some attribute it to the piezoelectric effect or static electricity – and the name is catching on.

Brandon Harker’s dog Oakley missing after he returns from Afghanistan, left dog with “good friend” (Greg Botelho, 7/27, CNN) Brandon Harker returned home from an Afghanistan deployment last week to find his dog was missing. He hadn’t run away, the friend Harker asked to care him said the 2-year-old pedigreed yellow Labrador retriever named Oakley had been given away. Harker thought he might have been sold on Craigslist, and he’s turned to the site to post an ad seeking help getting Oakley back. He also started a Facebook page where he’s been posting updates about his search.

Combat correspondent uses her experiences in school

By Anthony Cave, News21


Post-9/11 veteran Jennifer Brofer films a news story at the Marine Corps Logistics Base in Albany, Georgia in 2007. (Courtesy of Jennifer Brofer)

Jennifer Brofer served in the Marines, on the frontlines in Afghanistan, but she wielded a camera instead of a rifle.

Brofer, 30, a combat correspondent for more than 10 years, served in Afghanistan during 2010-11. She worked across media, using the printed word as well as video. When logistic Marines built bridges, she was there. Redeploy missions? She was there too.

“It was inherently dangerous,” Brofer, an Arlington, Texas, native, said.

Since her discharge in 2012, Brofer has used the Montgomery GI Bill to study radio-television-film at the University of Texas at Austin.

Other than a few canceled appointments for non-emergency care at the Department of Veterans Affairs outpatient clinic in Austin, her experiences have been positive, she said.

“I’m a happy gal, mentally unscathed,” Brofer said.

Still, her experience led her down the military path once again in a class she took last semester. Brofer completed a nine-minute video titled “Girls With Guns,” which chronicles the experiences of post-9/11 veteran Mary Hegar, whose helicopter was shot down in Afghanistan in 2009.

She survived and returned fire, but Hegar came home to fight again, this time the military’s ban on women in combat. She sued the U.S. Department of Defense and the Combat Exclusion Policy was eventually lifted in January 2013.

Brofer said her experiences overseas helped her share Hegar’s narrative.

“I learned how to tell a story in very adverse conditions,” she said. “I don’t take for granted what the reporters do here in America. If it wasn’t for the skill, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”

The video also highlights teenage girls in a high school Junior ROTC program. Brofer said that it is important to advocate gender equality.

Brofer wants to be a producer or director; she already has a resume start. When Christina Aguilera sang the National Anthem before the 2011 Super Bowl, the NFL Network showed a montage. Her three-second shot of a group of Marines standing in a tent made the worldwide broadcast.

Brofer, who was posted in Afghanistan at the time, had spent the night before the Super Bowl, editing film for the spot. She said that “luckily” she was behind the camera.

Marine rapper and photographer reflects on service

Anthony Cave, News21

Marine Sergeant Raymond Lott rapped about war when his camera lens wasn’t focused on battlefields.

Lott is a Marine photographer who was deployed in Iraq in 2006 and Afghanistan in 2008. He is now finishing his service in New Orleans.

The 30-year-old California native often reflects on his time overseas. But he unleashes the day’s “stresses” in a studio, rapping about his experiences.

In “Here Now,” Lott raps that he joined the military because he realized that “a little boy needed change in his life.”

When he wasn’t rapping, Lott was photographing – Iraqi women, firefights, Marines bandaging civilians and carrying out military duties. But Lott’s raps soothed him.

Marine photographer Raymond Lott received a 2007 Thomas Jefferson media award for this picture of an Iraqi woman. The awards are presented by the Department of Defense. (Courtesy of Raymond Lott)

Marine photographer Raymond Lott received a 2007 Thomas Jefferson media award for this picture of an Iraqi woman. The awards are presented by the Department of Defense. (Courtesy of Raymond Lott)

“It’s reflective therapy. You need to get out these emotions in any form; I use therapy through music,” said the man whose rap name is RSonic.

Lott has uploaded more than 50 videos on YouTube. He has more than 2,400 subscribers and his most popular video has almost half a million YouTube views.

“I’m helping people,” he said of his raps. “It helps them see the world in a different way.”

His photography also offers a worldview. Lott won a Thomas Jefferson media award presented by the Department of Defense in 2007 for his photo of an Iraqi woman.