Update May 2025

 

At first, and for years after my service, horrible recollections came without warning.

What felt like a waking nightmare, all while being fully awake and aware of my surroundings, was back then, and STILL is as debilitating, today. My mind high-jacked by my senses, all while I'm trying to just live my daily life. I could hide it with a smile but I was truly never "OK" back then. Always bitter, always wondering, "how could they" , "why did I allow" or worse, "why me". Time compounded and multiplied this pain, exponentially. Cementing a twisted legacy that shouldn't be mine to bear.

So I hope you all understand that taking the time to write this has brought those feelings of betrayal, regret, bitterness, hate and brokenness back into my thoughts from deep within my subconsciousness It's been hard since I had finally come to terms given the fact that I was effectively "left behind" after it's happened time and time again. Apparently, a motto not meant for all. I was angry and frustrated, but after more than twenty years of waiting, I was ready and willing to move forward without answers.

A couple of facts need to be noted in order to have any grasp of the incident that led up to my court marshal and subsequent separation:

- I had an active congressional investigation being done by Senator Elizabeth Dole into my almost daily hazing and lack of action from my chain of command to address the issue at all, sometimes even subconsciousness it... Especially while serving in Afghanistan and corroborated by multiple witnesses, including a Staff NCO in the Army named SSgt. Matteson, who later submitted written testimony to this very issue.

- I had also been discharged twice out of Tripler Army Medical Center's mental health ward (within a 2 month period) and was later diagnosed by a hostile Navy psychologist as "severely narcissistic" after a single 30 min session. Laughable, to say the least. This was later refuted by a family psychologist I was assigned to on base. During my active duty in late 2005, Mrs Moody tried to diagnose me with PTSD (PTSD was only a theory in 2005 and was not recognized as a medical condition by the Marine Corps until 2007!!!) and was confirmed by the State of North Carolina's mental health Network's psychiatrist as PTSD almost 5 years later in 2011.

- I was being physically assaulted and accosted by my peers, my seniors Marines, and later on, their subordinates. While I did out rank the new Marines, they were ordered to ignore my rank and treat me differently, again for no good reason. They did it because I wanted to follow the rules (the UCMJ) and do the right thing. They even dubbed me a "lifer", a "motivator" in mocking tones, eventually evolving into insults like "Shit bag" or "Haji lover" because of my respect for local workers that came on our forward operating base, their customs (like not trying to feed them pork, yes seriously, they tried) and learning many phrases for effective communication in Farsi and Dari.

- I and my father were told that the amount of codeine in my system could have killed me. I was put on Suicide watch and court marshaled because of the amount in my system. Odd, since they never investigated the mugging nor sought any witnesses from that night. In fact, there was no investigation at all, instead handling it as a suicide attempt with a drug charge.

- Other than a waiver acknowledging my marijuana use before joining the Marines that I was told that I was "informed" of the Marine Corps's zero tolerance policy to drugs even though I have never had a criminal record before, during or after my service.

- Before the Congressional investigation, I had requested a transfer that would act as a "fresh start" after all the hazing. This request was granted, (only after receiving correspondence from a congressional inquiry my father had begun without my knowledge) but I was moved within my platoon to a new team in the machine gun squad, which means I'm still in the same building that I'd been living in already. Meaning, that not only was I still subjected to the same individuals from before but also now deal with the culture of a new group of Marines that had already witnessed a lot of what was going on and didn't want to deal with it either. Oh, and I now had to learn a whole new group of weapon systems. In other words, it wasn't a fresh start. It was a joke.

- At the time of the incident, while I was completely unaware my battalion commander had already put me up for a medical discharge. (Stars and Stripes detailed a report of top brass targeting members of the military they deemed "troubled or wounded" using illegal methods of kicking Marines, like myself, and soldiers through court marshals effectively denying us benefits leading to catastrophic life consequences.)

- I found in 2011 that I was subjected to a malaria vaccine called Mefloquine, which seems to coincide with my emotional downward spiral and my inability to handle high stress situations. Looking back, being physically assaulted on an almost daily basis certainly played a major role in my long-term emotional trauma. The term is called "Mefloquine toxicity", which I always assumed was a possibility after discovering the condition while researching ways of dealing with my diagnosed PTSD.

Now that you have a general understanding of where things stood and while I was never considered, I never stopped my belief in the the pillars of honor, courage and commitment, the very spirit of the Marine Corps. That I never gave up or gave in. Here is what happened that brought my unjustified discharge.

I had just been returned back to my unit from when I had first been admitted to the mental ward and was granted liberty by SSgt Kerrinan, my Weapons Platoon Sergeant at the time. I went, where I always went, to play guitar with some local friends in Waikiki. Music was my way of dealing with all the physical and verbal abuse that had taken a very ugly turn during and after our deployment. They weren't towel parties but fist fighting and gang ups by some of the peers in my platoon like Lance Corporals Darby and Marchese with Corporals Lumpkin, Montana and Kirvin and Schoener of 1st platoon, among others. Many in my unit and in my company (Kilo) did nothing to help or stop, which basically amounted to complicity. Cowards.

Before joining the Corps, I had already been playing guitar for some time as a hobby, so I joined a local band as a supporting lead. I played out with them when I could. We would drink and jam out, and the night in question was no exception. The difference was that when we went back to our band mates music studio, a bunch of people from the bar came back with us. I remember playing but back then, I wasn't much of a drinker anyway, so I was surprised to wake up in the car I had borrowed from a friend, no where near the studio with road rash on my arms, left leg and part of my face, with my wallet and all my money missing.

I called my platoon Sgt and reported the issue only to be met with unprofessional conduct, something I had grown to accept. Only after speaking with a staff member at Pepsi plant was I able to discern my location.

A couple of members from my platoon picked me up but not before berating me for being UA. They didn't even care that I had been assaulted or that I didn't remember anything. I was given the option of urinalysis, which I voluntarily submitted. Later, it would pop positive for codeine.

I've never been a drug user, and I don't drink. Never have. In fact, all my friends know me as the designated driver. My complaints of being robbed and mugged fell on deaf ears, and my friends told me that the command was not interested in speaking with them. I later remembered that we all had the same red disposable cups and that I had just grabbed the wrong drink. Nefarious or not, whether I was beat up or simply dragged is up for debate. I simply don't remember after the studio, especially after all these years.

Neither my JAG officer nor my command interviewed my family counselor (Kaneohe Marine Corps Base Hawaii mental health and family services advocate, Melody Moody) and my JAG never attended my special court marshal instead talking to me on the phone RIGHT before hand. He informed me that NO ONE from my unit was supposed to be the room with the Judge before I was. Something about avoiding allegations of impropriety and impartiality, which makes sense.

Well, my ENTIRE chain of command was present, in the room, at the table sitting with the judge! I did attempt to make protest but was met with threats of upgrading the charges to a special court marshal.

After my summary court marshal, I was given time to write a letter to my battalion commander where I could plead my case and maybe stay in the Marine Corps.

Later, in that meeting, my battalion commander, Lt. Col. Cooling said that I was being kicked out not because of the zero tolerance policy to drugs but because I had put myself in a situation that allowed myself to be compromised. I found that ironic given the circumstances of why I had left the base in the first place every weekend to escape my drunk, sadistic and twisted unit that couldn't seem to keep their damn hands to themselves.

The Battalion Commander even leveled some personal insults before ending the meeting. Even the XO in the adjacent office next door chimed in on the insults. I had zero support replaced instead with malice with no good reason as to why.

Then, my unit put me on suicide watch with no verbal threat or evidence to back their claim. It should be noted that this happened right after Lt. Col. Cooling (my battalion commander) was made aware of Senator Elizabeth Dole's inquiry into my hazing through a congressional investigation that would end up going nowhere. The Senator failed when she basically asked my battalion commander to investigate himself after faxing the Congressional investigation request to my S-4 battalion headquarters!! Later, Senator Dole reported the commander's findings, invalidating every one of my complaints, (go figure) including the almost daily hazing I had endured, and for the final slap to the face, she thanked me for my service to "Operation Iraqi Freedom " when I had served in Afghanistan. I remember the moment coming to the realization that the Senator and her staff had neither read nor investigated any of my complaints, giving all confidence to my command, the perpetrators I had been a victim too.

20 years later and my complaints have never been more valid, from the high denial rates of Marine veterans who attempt to upgrade from OTH, the fact that PTSD wasn't even recognized in 2005, the lack of response to all the hazing and last but not least, the vaccine toxicity from the anti-malaria drug Mefloquine.

I was told by an assigned Staff NCO that I would have time to gather my medical documents and belongings, including all my issued gear. Instead, my request was later rejected. I was placed on special assignment, away from my unit, while I awaited transfer to the brig. I served my entire sentence in isolation at my commands request.

Later, when I was home, I had found that all my stuff had been thrown into a box and I mean THROWN. All my valuables stolen, from my video games systems (and games) to all my guitars and pedal boards. And not just personal effects, they also stole all my issued gear as I was billed for the loss.

It all felt so violating. Its an understatement saying that what happened was unfair. From the amount of stress built up over the years of having to involuntary recall these memories, especially after having fought with my own family for over two decades now on how I should move on and forward, like its a light switch or a choice of living as though the scars never existed to existing around those same people that couldn't even believe someone like me could or was suffering at all, has been a painful reminder of what it like to be forgotten and disregarded.

My life, for the last 20 years, has been one failure after another. But I never gave up. I lost my GI bill, my dreams and aspirations never realized, lost to time, financial short falls, people who can help but won't and false hopes. The fact that it now affects my family... my daughter... in the form of poverty and homelessness hurts more than anything I have ever felt before. Am I failure? I don't know but I really wish I had a fair shot.

Matthew T. Kallback

May 2025