“Where would I be now if I hadn’t got to VA? Dead. Definitely, I would be dead” insists Chris a year later. He’s slim, fit, tanned and happy. It’s hard to visualise the wreck of a man he describes.
Chris, now 65, was a career soldier. “My father was a soldier, his father before him and his father before him – I was soldier long before I ‘became a soldier’! It was the only life for me. I joined at the old Guards Depot at Pirbright at the age of 15.”
He passed out in 1968, finished his training and went to Chelsea Barracks in London where he joined 1st Battalion Coldstream Guards and did public duties. The following year found him in Norway, learning winter warfare skills and skiing. “This was in temperatures of 30 below and I thought ‘This is NOT for me!’ But they wanted me to stay on and do an advanced course so I said that I was going for selection for the Guards Independent Parachute Company.”
Reluctantly they let him go and Chris recalls fist pumping with a celebratory ‘Yes! Got out of that!’ But the plan backfired and he returned to Tidworth to find his name on Part One Orders – a nervous 18-year-old heading for Parachute Company selection.
The years that followed led to a life of athletics, adventure, travel and excitement. But it was a peripatetic existence that put strains on his marriage and Chris reluctantly went back to the Regiment and a posting to Germany.
He missed the Parachute Company but they were still memorable days: “Guarding Rudolf Hess in Spandau Jail . . . this was Berlin when the wall was up. Party time with sport thrown in!”
He’d lived in a military environment since boyhood, so leaving the only life he’d known was a culture shock – but Chris had a positive attitude, good health and sound organisational skills. He found a job in London, with accommodation, and thrived for many years.
Sadly, like many good things, it came to an end when staff changes introduced a fellow veteran with whom Chris did not get on. The relationship became extremely stressful and he started drinking.
“I’d go to the supermarket round the corner after work to pick up a litre of whiskey. Then I’d buy a lot of food that I didn’t need to put over the whiskey. That’s the way my mind was working – all logic went out of the window. All I wanted to do was go back home and have a drink. There was a degree of shame towards the end but I’d always leave myself 1/3 of a bottle so I could have a drink when I got up.
“I was working on autopilot and drinking throughout the day – popping back to my flat for a drink and a smoke – then going back to work. I was using loads of breath freshener and mouthwash thinking that it would hide the smell but you can’t hide it. You’re kidding yourself – it comes out through your pores!”
After verbal and then written warnings Chris was fired. Undeterred by this turn of events he carried on drinking until the day his son came round and found him collapsed. When it happened again he was taken by ambulance to Kings College Hospital and put on a drip for 24 hours.
The following day his son got in touch with Veterans Aid and its Substance Misuse Specialist, Phil Rogers.
Smiling at the memory Chris recalls, “I still remember counting the steps, 27 steps, but I don’t remember much else about what went on there. Phil put things in motion immediately to get me into Kairos and even today they say they don’t remember anyone else arriving in the condition I was in. I went in in a wheelchair and my son unpacked all my stuff. The doctor said to him ‘It’s a wonder your father is still alive’.”
Reflecting on that time Chris is objective; “I wasn’t in denial and I was never suicidal, but I was drinking up to two bottles of whisky a day and at that point you don’t care whether you live or die. I knew I was a drunk and I knew I had a big problem.”
Was his alcoholism related to his military service? “Not at all – and I never suffered from Post Traumatic Stress” he insists; something the assessment that was part of his rehab confirmed.
“I have to say, getting back the use of my legs was the best thing. I had completely lost the use of them through alcohol.”
The whole process of getting his life back took a year. For some it takes twice that – for others longer.
“There are no two ways about it, if my son hadn’t got me to Veterans Aid I would have been dead. Phil and the whole team, the organisations they put me in touch with – well, they led me to the place I’m in now.”
Today Chris lives in sheltered accommodation in Sidcup. He’s content. He’s put on three stone, goes to the gym twice a week, enjoys the company of his two sons and is on good terms with his former wife. He also works part time at The Guards Museum.
“I was in Sidcup one day when Phil phoned me up and asked if I’d like to work there. He arranged for me to meet Andrew Wallis who runs the place and that was it. It’s a great place to work and they are great supporters of Veterans Aid. I meet people from all over the world. Military history is a hobby or mine and I’m doing something that I’m good at.”
