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WORK TITLE: Shooting Ghosts
WORK NOTES: with Thomas J. Brennan
PSEUDONYM(S):
BIRTHDATE: 1971
WEBSITE: http://www.finbarr-oreilly.com/
CITY:
STATE:
COUNTRY:
NATIONALITY: Canadian
British-Canadian * http://www.finbarr-oreilly.com/about-finbarr-oreilly/ * https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Finbarr_O%27Reilly
RESEARCHER NOTES:
PERSONAL
Born 1971, in Swansea, Wales; immigrated to Canada, c. 1980; naturalized Canadian citizen.
EDUCATION:Attended Ryerson University.
ADDRESS
CAREER
Photographer and writer. Ottawa Citizen, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada, intern, 1997; Globe and Mail, Toronto, Ontario, former arts correspondent, beginning 1998; National Post, Toronto, former writer; Reuters (news agency), correspondent in Kinshasa, Congo, 2001, Africa Great Lakes correspondent in Kigali, Rwanda, 2003-05, chief photographer for West and Central Africa in Dakar, Senegal, 2005-12, senior photographer for Israel and Palestinian Territories in Tel Aviv, Israel, 2014-15. Harvard University, Nieman fellow, 2012-13; Columbia University, Ochberg fellow at Dart Center for Journalism and Trauma, 2014; Yale world fellow, 2015; MacDowell Colony, fellow, 2016; Carey Institute for Global Good, writer in residence, 2016. Documentary film work includes coproducer of The Ghosts of Lomako, 2003; codirector of The Digital Divide, 2003; appearance in Under Fire: Journalists in Combat, 2011. Exhibitions: Work featured in the solo exhibition Congo on the Wire, Bayeux War Correspondent’s Festival, 2008, then Carr Center for Human Rights, Harvard University, and in Canada; work included in the Italian exhibition After A, 2010.
AWARDS:World Press Photo of the Year Award, 2006, for photograph of a starving mother and child in Tahoua, Niger; first place award in multimedia category, Pictures of the Year International (POYi) program, Donald W. Reynolds Journalism Institute, Missouri School of Journalism, University of Missouri in Columbia, 2009; special judge’s award, POYi, 2010; first place portrait award, National Press Photographers Association, 2010.
WRITINGS
Contributor to periodicals, including Washington Post.
SIDELIGHTS
Welsh-Canadian photojournalist Finbarr O’Reilly began his career as a print journalist with the Ottawa Citizen in 1997, but he is best known for his award-winning photographs from the world’s conflict zones. O’Reilly joined the Reuters news agency in 2001 as a freelance correspondent in the Congo. He began to illustrate his stories with modest photographs. Then, he explained at the World Press Photo Website, “I noticed that my images were getting more play than my stories and that the message I was trying to convey had more immediate and emotional impact in the form of images.” In 2005 he was hired by Reuters as the chief photographer for West and Central Africa.
O’Reilly spent ten years with camera in hand, except his time as a Nieman fellow at Harvard University. He won international acclaim for his photograph of an emaciated child with his mother in Niger, but his work took him all over the world, from conflict zones in Africa to combat zones in Afghanistan and elsewhere. As early as 2007 O’Reilly was beginning to feel the impact of his repeated exposure to trauma and his role as a documentarian of humans in distress. In fact, his Nieman fellowship was devoted to psychological research on traumatic experience in conflict situations.
By the time O’Reilly lost his Reuters job in 2014, he knew that he had lost his capacity for empathy. In an article at the Washington Post Online he explained: “I grew increasingly uncomfortable with photographing people at their most vulnerable while being able to do little to help.” He turned away from photography for a while, preferring to study and teach. He also reconnected with a man for whom his photography could actually make a tangible difference.
O’Reilly was embedded with a U.S. Marine Corps unit in Afghanistan in 2010. The squad leader at Outpost Kunjak was an American, Sergeant T.J. Brennan. O’Reilly’s job was to stay out of the way and photograph the action. Brennan’s job was to protect his men, even if it meant tossing a photographer off a hilltop. One fateful day in November, in a deserted village called Nabuaga, a rocket-propelled grenade exploded so close to Brennan that the shockwave triggered a traumatic brain injury. Brennan never saw it coming, but O’Reilly did. In an interview broadcast on Fresh Air and posted at the National Public Radio website, he said: “I have the whole sequence documented of [T.J.] running up the alleyway, … the explosion afterwards and the guys who went to recover T.J. and haul him back” to safety.
Both men lived to fight and film another day, but they returned to their respective homes changed forever. The two men stayed in touch, both haunted by what they saw, what they did, and what they didn’t do. O’Reilly was able to find help for the depression that he brought home with him, but Brennan had to fight the military mindset, first to seek help, then to receive it. The memories and lessons learned come together in their memoir.
Shooting Ghosts: A U.S. Marine, a Combat Photographer, and Their Journey Back from War is a joint memoir, told in alternating first-person narratives. “We didn’t want to write a book that glorifies war,” O’Reilly explained in the Washington Post Online. He added: “Shooting Ghosts is about how and why war changes people, and what happened as we came to terms with the things we’ve seen and done.”
A Publishers Weekly contributor reported that the authors “strip away any misplaced notions of glamour, bravery and stoicism to craft an affecting memoir of a deep friendship.” Tim Perry wrote at the CBS News website that the writing process enabled both men to find a new purpose in life. A commentator in Kirkus Reviews called the shared volume “a courageous breaking of the code of silence.”
With O’Reilly’s help and encouragement, Brennan earned a journalism degree and became a writer. He and founded the online newsroom called the War Horse and the charity Fog of War. O’Reilly gradually returned to photography, but not as a photographer of pain and anguish. He went to Senegal, for instance, to cover fashion week in Dakar. He told Joanne Laucius in an interview posted at the Ottawa Citizen Online that his work is now “about beauty and creativity rather than destruction.”
BIOCRIT
BOOKS
O’Reilly, Finbarr, and Thomas J. Brennan, Shooting Ghosts: A U.S. Marine, a Combat Photographer, and Their Journey Back from War, Viking (New York, NY), 2017.
PERIODICALS
Kirkus Reviews, June 15, 2017, review of Shooting Ghosts.
Publishers Weekly, May 29, 2017, review of Shooting Ghosts, p. 55.
ONLINE
CBS News Website, https://www.cbsnews.com/ (August 30, 2017), Tim Perry, author interview.
Finbarr O’Reilly Website, http://www.finbarr-oreilly.com (February 10, 2018).
Kirkus Reviews Online, https://www.kirkusreviews.com/ (June 5, 2017), review of Shooting Ghosts.
National, https://www.thenational.ae/ (September 15, 2017), Kapil Komireddi, review of Shooting Ghosts.
National Public Radio Website, https://www.npr.org/ (August 24, 2017), Dave Davies, transcript of author interview broadcast on the program Fresh Air.
Ottawa Citizen Online, http://ottawacitizen.com/ (September 17, 2017), Joanne Laucius, author profile.
Reuters Website, https://widerimage.reuters.com/ (February 10, 2018), author profile.
Shooting Ghosts Website, https://www.shootingghosts.com/ (February 10, 2018), author profile.
World Press Photo Website, https://www.worldpressphoto.org/ (February 10, 2018), author profile.
Finbarr O’Reilly is an internationally acclaimed photographer who has spent more than a decade working in Africa and the Middle East and who has won the World Press Photo of the Year, the highest individual honor in news photography. He was profiled in the documentary film Under Fire: Journalists in Combat (Peabody Award winner, Oscar finalist) and has held fellowships at Harvard, Yale, Columbia, and the MacDowell Colony. He was a Reuters senior photographer for Israel and the Palestinian Territories in 2014.
Finbarr O'Reilly
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Finbarr O'Reilly
Born 1971
Swansea
Nationality Canadian
British[1]
Known for Author and Photographer
Awards World Press Photo of the Year 2005
Finbarr O’Reilly (born 1971 Swansea) is a British/Canadian photographer, and the co-author with Sgt. Thomas James Brennan of Shooting Ghosts, a joint memoir by a conflict photographer and U.S. Marine whose unlikely friendship helped both heal their war-wounded bodies and souls (Viking/Penguin/Random House, August 2017). O'Reilly won the premier award of the 49th annual World Press Photo contest in 2006 as well as numerous top industry awards from Pictures of the Year International and the National Press Photographers Association. He has been a Harvard Nieman Fellow (2012-2013), a Yale World Fellow (2015) an Ochberg Fellow at Columbia University's Dart Center for Journalism and Trauma (2014), a MacDowell Colony Fellow (2016), and a writer in residence at the Carey Institute for Global Good (2016).
Contents [hide]
1 Life
2 Work
3 References
4 External links
Life[edit]
O’Reilly was born in Swansea in South Wales and raised in Dublin, Ireland until he moved with his family to Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada at the age of nine.[1]
He was later a Toronto-based arts correspondent for The Globe and Mail and then spent three years writing pop culture and entertainment pieces for the National Post.[2] He joined Reuters as a freelance correspondent based in Kinshasa, Congo in 2001 [3] before moving to Kigali, Rwanda, where he became the Reuters Africa Great Lakes correspondent from 2003-2005. He turned to photography in 2005 and became the Reuters Chief Photographer for West and Central Africa, based in Dakar, Senegal from 2005 until 2012, when he took a sabbatical year off to study psychology as a Nieman Fellow at Harvard. Upon returning to Reuters, he was posted to Tel Aviv in as a Senior Photographer for Israel and the Palestinian Territories. He covered the 2014 Gaza War from inside the Strip before leaving Reuters in 2015 to write Shooting Ghosts with Thomas James Brennan, a U.S. Marine who he had met during one of his assignments to Afghanistan.
Work[edit]
He is one of several prominent journalists featured in Under Fire: The Psychological Cost of Covering War, a documentary short-listed for a 2012 Academy Award.[4] The film won a 2013 Peabody Award [5]
As a 2013 Nieman Fellow at Harvard, O'Reilly spent an academic year researching psychology with a focus on conflict-induced trauma. He is also a 2014 Ochberg Fellow at the DART center for Journalism and Trauma at Columbia University's Graduate School of Journalism in New York.
The international jury of the World Press Photo contest selected a color image of O'Reilly of Reuters as the World Press Photo of the Year 2005. The picture shows the emaciated fingers of a one-year-old child pressed against the lips of his mother at an emergency feeding clinic in Niger.
In 2003 he co-produced The Ghosts of Lomako, a documentary about conservation in the Democratic Republic of Congo. In the same year he co-directed the documentary, The Digital Divide about technology in the developing world.[1]
Shooting Ghosts: Combat photographer Finbarr O'Reilly on trauma behind the lens
He eventually started to question the value of seizing on human misery. The years of violence and stress finally took a toll, leaving him feeling empty and depressed.
Joanne Laucius, Ottawa CitizenJOANNE LAUCIUS, OTTAWA CITIZEN
More from Joanne Laucius, Ottawa Citizen
Published on: September 17, 2017 | Last Updated: September 17, 2017 7:09 PM EDT
Reuters photographer Finbarr O'Reilly in Afghanistan, 2011.
Reuters photographer Finbarr O'Reilly in Afghanistan, 2011. © FINBARR O'REILLY / REUTERS / REUTERS
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In 2005, combat photographer Finbarr O’Reilly took a photo that would be seen around the world .
The photo won the World Press Photo of the Year 2006. It showed one-year-old Alassa Galisou’s tiny, malnourished hand pressed to the mouth of his mother, Fatou Ousseini, at an emergency feeding clinic in Niger. In a single frame, O’Reilly had distilled the tragedy of a drought that was ravaging the region.
Capturing images that became shorthand for complex situations was something O”Reilly did well.
Finbarr O'Reilly at a Canadian army base in Afghanistan, 2007.
Finbarr O’Reilly at a Canadian army base in Afghanistan in 2007. © FINBARR O'REILLY / REUTERS / REUTERS
“The thing that drew me to photography was the ability to tell stories in an immediate way,” O’Reilly said in an interview last week. It was a life full of adventure, danger, accolades, rewards and the almost immediate gratification of seeing his work in print, but he was descending into despair and cynicism.
O’Reilly will be at Carleton University on Wednesday to launch Shooting Ghosts, a memoir he wrote in alternating narrative with Thomas Brennan, a U.S. Marine he met while on assignment in Afghanistan. On O’Reilly’s side, the memoir traces more than a decade of his life as a reporter and photographer for Reuters news agency, a life that took him to conflict zones around the world.
O’Reilly was born in Wales and grew up in Canada, starting as a print journalist. (He spent the summer of 1997 at the Ottawa Citizen as an intern.) He started to take pictures to augment his stories while working as a reporter in Africa, believing that images could inform people and decision-makers.
However, O’Reilly eventually started to question the value of seizing on human misery. The years of violence and stress finally took a toll, leaving him feeling empty and depressed. He started to feel like a vulture “swooping in to feed on the carrion of the human condition.”
He also came to a realization that the story was being told over and over in almost exactly the same way.
Finbarr's O'Reilly's World Press Photo of the Year 2006.
Finbarr’s O’Reilly’s World Press Photo of the Year 2006. The photo had been taken in Niger in 2005. © FINBARR O'REILLY / REUTERS / REUTERS
A year after he took the picture in Niger, a German photographer tracked down the mother and son roaming in the desert and sent O’Reilly a photograph of them holding his famous photo. Ousseini was wearing the same robe and headscarf as in the photo, but they were faded by the sun and tattered by the wind. Alassai had survived, but he was still emaciated and his eyes were hollow and dull.
O’Reilly noted that the 1975 World Press Photo of the Year by U.S. photographer Ovie Carter showed another mother’s hands resting on the head of her starving child. It was also taken in Niger. Thirty years has passed, but not much had changed.
“There is cyclical shortage of food. It’s not something that is easily resolved,” O’Reilly said of recurring famine in Niger. “It’s a very rare photograph that will change the course of history. What photojournalism does is valuable. But I wanted it to do more. Perhaps it’s naive. It’s one of those things that I want to try to reconcile.”
In 2007, O’Reilly sensed the beginnings of a shift. He was covering a plane crash in Cameroon where all 114 passengers had perished. As workers picked through debris and bodies and he snapped photos of objects belonging to dead passengers, O’Reilly questioned whether his pictures would contribute to an understanding of what had happened. It was, he noted “a crack into which later trauma would become wedged.”
Finbarr O’Reilly photographing government soldiers in eastern Congo in 2008. FINBARR O'REILLY PHOTOGRAPHING GOVERNMENT SOLDIERS IN EASTERN CONGO, 2008.
It all came crashing down in 2013. Following a sabbatical at Harvard, O’Reilly learned his job in West Africa had been cut, but he was offered a job as a photographer in Israel and the Palestinian territories. The tipping point was being assigned to cover the 2014 Gaza war.
“Every conflict that occurred followed the same cycle of images. It was a simplistic view of real complexities,” he said. “I felt that I couldn’t contribute to an understanding of the complexities.”
In November 2014, he learned he no longer had a job. O’Reilly and Brennan, who had suffered his third traumatic brain injury in a grenade explosion in 2010, have spent the past two years writing the memoir. Brennan, who went back to school to study journalism after leaving the military, founded an online magazine focused on the military called The War Horse.
Photography became difficult for O’Reilly after he left Reuters. His ability to empathize with others felt exhausted. He has been teaching, mentoring and slowly returning to photography. He recently went back to Senegal, once his home base in Africa, and photographed fashion week.
“It’s <
Carleton journalism professor Allan Thompson, who teaches a course in journalism and conflict, invited O’Reilly to speak to his class via Skype last year to give students an idea of the challenges faced by correspondents and the personal toll that work has on their lives.
“I think Finbarr’s work reminds us of the awesome responsibility that war correspondents have to make us understand the dark side of human nature. These are stories that are as difficult to tell as they are for us to absorb and I think Finbarr’s experience makes clear the impact that this kind of work can have on the storytellers themselves,” Thompson said.
O’Reilly advises students to be clear on their motivations for doing this kind of work, but adds he wouldn’t do anything differently.
“I want to cover stories that interest me. I felt I did good work. But, after repeated exposure to trauma, my capacity to deal with it was tested.”
‘My appetite for covering conflict faded gradually, a light waning until there was nothing left to see’
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Writer Finbarr O'Reilly August 22, 2017
I wish I could pinpoint a defining moment, or a shutter click that marked the instant when I’d had enough of covering war. But I can’t. Maybe there was one hidden amid the dust and rubble and broken bodies I’d left behind when I walked out of Gaza after the 2014 war there. But rather than a sudden change of heart, my appetite for covering conflict faded gradually, a light waning until there was nothing left to see.
The conflicts and crises I’d covered over 15 years — in Congo, Sudan, Chad, Afghanistan, Libya and elsewhere — began to merge into an unending blur. <> And my sense of purpose wavered as friends and colleagues were injured and killed on the job. In the end, I burned out.
Since stepping back from the front lines, I’ve spent the past two years collaborating on a book, “Shooting Ghosts,” with former U.S. Marine Corps sergeant Thomas James Brennan. I met Brennan at a remote outpost in Afghanistan in 2010 while embedded with his squad. We were out on a patrol when an explosion from a rocket-propelled grenade wounded him during a Taliban ambush. He survived, and we remained in touch after returning home. And just as I was grappling with the emotional fallout from various wars, Brennan, a veteran of both Iraq and Afghanistan, was struggling with post-traumatic stress, a traumatic brain injury from the explosion, and the moral implications of having killed during combat.
Although typically resilient, journalists who cover conflict experience rates of post-traumatic stress and depression up to five times higher than the general population, and at rates similar to combat veterans (about one in four, according to experts).
<
Brennan has turned to investigative journalism and earlier this year broke the Marines United nude photo-sharing scandal, prompting Pentagon and congressional inquiries that have changed codes of conduct across the military.
I’ve turned my focus toward mentoring, writing and photographing personal projects. I’ve returned the last two years to Senegal, where I was based for eight years as a Reuters photographer covering Africa, to document the visual splendor of Dakar Fashion Week. There, amid the models and make-up and music, I’ve rediscovered the joy of creating pictures far from the destructive forces of war.
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Sgt. Thomas James Brennan smokes a cigarette in his bunk surrounded by photographs of his wife Melinda and their daughter Madison, 2, after a night of rain at the remote outpost of Kunjak in southern Afghanistan’s Helmand province, October 29, 2010. (Finbarr O’Reilly/Reuters)
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A Canadian soldier from the NATO-led coalition (C) moves under fire as an Afghan machine gunner shoots his weapon after their position was hit by Taliban shells during an ambush in Zhari district of Kandahar province, southern Afghanistan, October 23, 2007. (Finbarr O’Reilly/Reuters)
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A wounded Canadian soldier from the NATO-led coalition crawls for cover seconds after his position was hit by a Taliban shell during an ambush in Zhari district of Kandahar province, southern Afghanistan, October 23, 2007. (Finbarr O’Reilly/Reuters)
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A prisoner screams while being beaten by government troops just outside Goma in eastern Congo, November 23, 2008. (Finbarr O’Reilly/Reuters)
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A mother and child at a feeding center in Tahoua, Niger, August 1, 2005. (Finbarr O’Reilly/Reuters)
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Designer Oumar Dicko of Mali and Belgium, laces up a model in one of his creations backstage during Dakar Fashion Week in the Senegalese capital, Saturday July 1, 2017. (Photo by Finbarr O’Reilly)
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Model Nafissatou Gningue waits backstage during Dakar Fashion Week, June 5, 2016. (Finbarr O’Reilly)
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Finbarr photographing Congolese government soldiers along the front line near Goma, November 12, 2008, (Marcus Bleasdale)
Finbarr O’Reilly is co-author with Thomas James Brennan of “Shooting Ghosts, A US Marine, a Combat Photographer and their Journey Back From War,” published today by Viking. Follow him on Instagram and Twitter
Finbarr O’Reilly is the co-author of Shooting Ghosts (August 22, 2017, Penguin Random House), a unique joint memoir with retired a U.S. Marine Sgt. Thomas James Brennan. Their story about the unpredictability of war and its aftermath is told in alternating first-person narratives, and explores the things they’ve seen and done, the ways they have been affected, and how they have navigated the psychological aftershocks of war and wrestled with reforming their own identities and moral centres.
Pre-order book here: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, IndieBound, BAM, iBooks
Finbarr was a 2016 writer in residence at the MacDowell Colony and at the Carey Institute for Global Good. He was also a 2015 Yale World Fellow.
Before turning to writing, Finbarr was a Reuters senior photographer based in Tel Aviv, covering lsrael and the Palestinian Territories, and the 2014 Gaza war. He was a 2013 Nieman Fellow at Harvard and a 2014 Ochberg Fellow at Columbia University’s DART center for Journalism and Trauma.
https://www.viagrasansordonnancefr.com/viagra-sans-ordonnance-au-maroc/
He covered Africa as a Reuters correspondent and staff photographer 10 years. He won the World Press Photo of the Year in 2006 for his image of a mother and child at
an emergency feeding center in Niger.
He has since won numerous industry awards for his
multimedia work and photography, including first place
awards from POYi and the NPPA.
His solo exhibition “Congo On The Wire” has shown in France and Canada,
and at Harvard’s Carr Center for Human Rights.
His series on white poverty in South Africa was included
in the exhibition “After A” in Italy in 2010.
Finbarr is among those profiled in the film
“Under Fire: Journalists in Combat,” trailer (November 2011). The film was shortlisted for an Oscar at the 2012 Academy Awards and won a 2013 Peabody Award.
Contact: finbarroreilly@yahoo.com
twiter @finbarroreilly Instagram @finbarroreilly
MULTIMEDIA PROJECTS
• Afghanistan audio-slideshow
• Congo audio slideshow
AWARDS
•DART Center Ochberg Fellow 2014 at Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism
•Harvard Nieman Fellow 2013
•Peabody Award 2013 for documentary Under Fire: Journalists in Combat
•Academy
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Award short list in 2012 for Under Fire: Journalists in Combat
• World Press Photo of the Year 2006
• POYi First Place Multimedia 2009
• POYi Judge’s Special https://www.viagrasansordonnancefr.com/ Recognition One Week’s Work 2010
• NPPA International News Story 3rd Place 2011
• NPPA First Place Portrait 2010
• NPPA Portrait HM 2005
• UNICEF Photo of the Year 2007 HM
*all images copyright Reuters
ARTICLES
• Rediscovering Joy After War, a Photographer Returns to Africa
• Exploring African Identity and Ritual at Lagos Photo Festival
• NYT Lens blog From the Marine’s side of the camera
• NYT Lens blog South Africa white poverty
• NYT Lens blog Afghan doors
• NYT Lens blog on Libya’s revolution road
• NYT Lens blog on caricaturing Gaddafi
• Congo journal
• Caught in a rebel offensive in Chad
• Congo’s house of hope
•
partners
Ambushed by the Taliban
RECOMMENDED SITES
• Lens blog
• Time Lightbox
• Chris Hondros
• Tim Hetherington
• Marcus Bleasdale
• Stephen Dupont
• The New Yorker
< A Retired Marine And A Photojournalist Confront War's 'Invisible Injuries'
August 24, 20174:16 PM ET
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DAVE DAVIES, HOST:
This is FRESH AIR. I'm Dave Davies in for Terry Gross, who's off this week. Journalists and military combatants often have an uneasy relationship. Our guests today, retired Marine Sergeant Thomas Brennan and veteran war correspondent Finbarr O'Reilly, met in 2010 when O'Reilly embedded with Brennan's unit in Afghanistan. They've traveled a long journey together and apart, which is told in their new book, a painfully honest joint memoir about the psychological cost of war.
O'Reilly was there when Sergeant Brennan was wounded by the blast of a grenade launched by an Afghan National Policeman. Brennan returned to the states with a serious brain injury and PTSD, which would lead to debilitating depression and a suicide attempt. O'Reilly kept in touch as he was struggling with the effects of years spent documenting human brutality in conflict zones across the world, seeing the suffering of countless people he couldn't help. O'Reilly helped Brennan build a new and successful career as a journalist. Brennan's now a regular contributor to The New York Times' At War blog.
And he founded The War Horse, a nonprofit online newsroom covering the effects of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Brennan and O'Reilly's joint memoir is called "Shooting Ghosts." Sergeant Brennan, T.J. Brennan, and Finbarr O'Reilly, welcome to FRESH AIR. Good to have you both. T.J., let's begin with the day that changed your life, November 1, 2010. You're leading a group of 15 Marines in Afghanistan in an operation in a village. You come under heavy fire from the Taliban.
Two of your men have already been wounded. What happens to you?
THOMAS J BRENNAN: What happened to me on November 1, 2010, was we had about 15 of my Marines out on patrol in a small village called Nabuaga (ph), Afghanistan. And we came under heavy RPG machine gun, AK-47 fire in a U-shaped ambush. That means we were surrounded on three sides. And two of my Marines got wounded by a rocket-propelled grenade that hit right beside their head on a wall - almost knocked them unconscious.
And then because of where we were at, we were in an open field about, you know, half the size of a football field. And we had no other option but to sprint to the next alleyway and hold the position. And that's when one of the Afghan National Police that had an RPG shot it hoping to hit the enemy and actually hit right beside myself and another Marine...
DAVIES: Right.
BRENNAN: ...And knocked both of us unconscious.
DAVIES: You weren't sure what had happened initially, I guess.
BRENNAN: No. I was actually looking at the ground because I thought I'd found an improvised explosive device on the ground right next to where I was standing. And I just shouted back to my Marines saying what I thought I'd found. So the next thing that they heard was a gigantic explosion. And they thought that I'd actually detonated an IED instead of having been injured by the RPG.
DAVIES: You're seriously impaired here, and it takes you a while to realize just how badly you're hurt. But I want to just go forward a moment to the point where you're being picked up by a helicopter for medical treatment. And this is a section of the book, and I want people to get a sense of your writing here, so why don't you just pick up this section where you and another Marine, this guy Chun (ph), are injured and are about to be picked up for some help.
BRENNAN: (Reading) As two Black Hawk helicopters circle overhead, I swing on my body armor. The weight almost knocks me to the ground. Without thinking, I put on my helmet, forgetting I'd thrown up in it. Vomit oozes down my face. I toss the helmet on the ground and wipe the puke away. The helmet rolls downhill and fills with dirt. I pick it up and put it back on. The weight bears down on my skull and makes my eyes feel like they're about to burst.
I shout at Chun to hurry up, then wince from the sharp pain caused by my own yell. At the foot of the hill below OP Kunjak, the rotor wash pelts me with dust and sand. The pulse of the rotors makes me stumble as I stagger through the red signal smoke marking the landing zone. Air Force medics pull me and Chun aboard.
DAVIES: And that's retired Sergeant T.J. Brennan talking about the day he was injured in Afghanistan. That's from his new book with Finbarr O'Reilly, "Shooting Ghosts." They are both our guests here on FRESH AIR. You write so evocatively about these experiences in the war. And I'm wondering how you were able to capture such detail. Did you keep notes at the time?
BRENNAN: One of my favorite parts about writing the book was having to go through the hundreds of letters that my wife and I both kept after we wrote back and forth to each other throughout my deployment. So I've probably got 200 letters written by me and her throughout my Afghanistan deployment. We've also got some letters that we wrote to each other during my deployment with the Navy in 2006.
So I had already written a lot of this down through, you know, writing back and forth with her. And then, you know, having Finbarr's photos that he took that day, it - I had to treat this like a reporting project because when I got blown up, it erased a lot of my memories. So if it wasn't for those letters, I would not have been able to write the book.
DAVIES: Yeah. And those letters probably tell us something about why you became a journalist, I imagine. Finbarr O'Reilly, you were with this unit on this patrol when they were pinned down by Taliban fire. What did you see?
FINBARR O'REILLY: I'd been going out on patrols with T.J.'s squad for a number of days by this point. And there were - a lot of these patrols were pretty routine. You're moving through villages and through dusty alleyways and past mud compounds in a very desert kind of area. And they're kind of ghost towns. There's nobody there. All the civilians have left because of the fighting. And this particular town was notoriously hostile. The only people who were left there were the kind of people who would shoot at you.
So on this particular day, there was an intention to engage their enemy, not quite as soon as happened. There was a planned operation. And basically the Taliban became aware of their presence. And my job in these situations is, first of all, not to get in the way of what's happening while also trying to remain safe myself. And as the firefight erupted, I focused and concentrated on taking pictures and remaining as covered as I could from any incoming or outgoing fire.
And so I would just move with the rhythm of the firefight. And I'd been doing this for a few years on various embeds in Afghanistan already. So I kind of had a sense of how these things unfolded and where not to be as much as possible and where to be in order to get the pictures because if I'm not getting the pictures, what's the point of me being in a situation like that? So I was very focused on my role while these guys were focused on theirs.
So I would just photograph things unfolding. And one of the things that I did photograph was this Afghan National Policeman who fired the rocket that ultimately went astray and blew up very close to T.J., knocking him unconscious. So <> then of the Afghan National Police officer shooting the rocket and <
So that whole sequence is captured on film.
DAVIES: I want to have you read a bit of your description of that day. And this is - really what you're writing about here is what an explosion like this can do to a person. So if you would, this is Finbarr O'Reilly from his book with T.J. Brennan, "Shooting Ghosts."
O'REILLY: (Reading) Everyone inside the compound initially feared that T.J. had triggered an improvised explosive device. We were relieved it was only the rocket-propelled grenade, but the blast from such a warhead still forms a ring of death. Anyone inside a 12-foot radius will likely be torn to bits. Those outside the circle are still vulnerable to flying shrapnel and the invisible force of the blast wave. The power of the explosion decreases almost immediately as it moves away from the epicenter.
But at close range, the blast wave can crush bone and amputate limbs. Farther away, it inflicts less-visible damage. Its movement through human tissue is enough to force gas pockets inside the body to contract and to send blood and fluid sloshing into spaces that are normally empty. Organs can be knocked out of place. Most susceptible to such a pummeling are the inner ear, the lungs and the brain, that three-pound mass of fat and protein that makes us who we are and that responds most poorly to hard hits.
T.J. was just far enough away from the explosion to avoid the lethal blast radius and the shrapnel somehow missed him. But the shockwave from the RPG still ripped through the delicate wiring of his brain like a baseball bat smashing a computer circuit board.
DAVIES: And that's Finbarr O'Reilly reading from his book with T.J. Brennan about their experience in combat called "Shooting Ghosts." This was a terrible injury, which we'll talk more about. But maybe you could just, T.J. Brennan, talk to us a little bit about life at this outpost, Outpost Kunjak in Afghanistan, where you and your unit were staying. Just describe it for us.
BRENNAN: So Outpost Kunjak is the fighting position that I think every Marine squad leader could possibly dream of. And I say that because it's in the middle of nowhere. And you are very far away from your entire chain of command. So we got left alone for the most part. And it was just my guys and myself and the Afghan national police that were out there. And it was a good 20 to 25-minute ride to the closest base in a vehicle. And we were surrounded by hills that, you know, shielded us from the - you know, their surveillance that they had over there.
DAVIES: You're on top of this hill, right? And...
BRENNAN: Yeah. We were on top of a hill. It was extremely desolate and sandy. And we didn't get our cold-weather gear for the winter until December. So, I mean, it was freezing. It was windy. It was cold. But then again, when it was hot, it was hot. And we slept outside without a tent for the first, I think, almost four months of the deployment. And while it all sounds horrible, I mean, it was great at the same time. You just live life rough. And it was simple. And you didn't - I mean, you had everything in the world to think about, but you also had really nothing to worry about.
O'REILLY: And, Dave, if I can just say, you know, one of the reasons that I was drawn to Kunjak as a photographer was for this kind of rugged cinematic desert landscape that really made it feel like you were in some John Ford Western with these big expanses of territory, big sky and a real feeling of remoteness and dislocation from the outside world.
I mean, your entire existence felt like it was just your field of view, which was a muddy kind of camp that was about the size of two basketball courts. It was a jumble of tents and shoes and boots and camp gear and lookout posts that would surveil the land below and look off into the mountains in the distance. And the whole visual landscape was just beige. Everything was beige. There was no color whatsoever except for the blue of the sky.
DAVIES: Finbarr O'Reilly is a veteran photojournalist who's covered conflicts around the world. He is our guest, along with Thomas J. Brennan, who goes by T.J. He's a retired Marine sergeant who saw combat in Iraq and Afghanistan, where he was injured. Their book is called "Shooting Ghosts." We'll talk more after a short break. This is FRESH AIR.
(SOUNDBITE OF RAMILES' "FANTASY WORLD")
DAVIES: This is FRESH AIR. And we're speaking with Thomas J. Brennan. He goes by T.J. He's a retired Marine sergeant who saw combat in Iraq and Afghanistan. Also with us, Finbarr O'Reilly, a veteran journalist who's covered conflicts around the world. They've collaborated in a memoir about the psychological impact of war. It's called "Shooting Ghosts." T.J. Brennan, you were a sergeant there. This was the first time you had commanded a unit. And you lived in very intimate conditions with your fellow Marines. What was your relationship with them like?
BRENNAN: When we were on patrol, I mean, I was the squad leader. I was the Marine in charge of the squad and responsible for bringing my guys home. When I personally say that I miss being in Afghanistan or I miss my guys or I mess being deployed, what I miss is the firepit that we had. We were so far away from our leaders that we were able to have a fire, a little bonfire every single night. And they couldn't see it because otherwise that was not authorized at all. And around that fire, you know, it was myself, my squad. And we would have, you know, and Finbarr was there. He would eat dinner with us. And then we would have our interpreter, H.B. (ph). I was T.J. Roche was Jim.
You know, we would just sit there and reminisce about back home. And everything was OK at that point. It didn't matter how IEDs we found that day. It didn't matter how long the patrol was or what kind of crazy stuff the Marine Corps was assigning to us for the next week, you know, what mountaintop we were going to look at for an explosive, that way goats wouldn't get blown up. It was nice. For being in the middle of a war zone, being with my guys was really, really nice.
DAVIES: A bond that's hard to replicate, I guess.
BRENNAN: It is. And it's really - there's a lot of things about military service that are very difficult to convey. And the bond that you share with those that you're under fire with is definitely one of those things that's hard to show and hard to explain.
DAVIES: You held a real responsibility. You wanted to get these guys back safely.
BRENNAN: It is a real responsibility, and it's something that I took to heart. I'm a true minority in the sense that I can say that I got my entire squad home alive there. There were not a lot. You know, and I don't even look at that as a bragging right. It's just - it's something that means a lot to me is that all of my squad walked off the plane together.
DAVIES: One of the interesting parts of the book is when you described how when you first got this unit, how you trained them and really worked them in, you know. Then you go up to this outpost, and there's this skinny guy, a journalist who's now sitting next to you, Finbarr. What did you think when you first saw him?
BRENNAN: So at that point, I'd only been working with my Marines for a little over a month. And then Finbarr shows up, and it just adds to the stress because the military is a very attention-to-detail-oriented organization. And sometimes, journalists don't realize the nuances to what we do. And the simplest thing taken out of context in a print story or in a photograph can really be a career-ending thing for somebody in the military.
DAVIES: Finbarr, do you remember that first meeting?
O'REILLY: Oh, yeah, I remember it. I had already been at the base for a couple of days when T.J. and his squad rolled in from a three-day operation that they'd been on. And they were scruffy and tired and weighed down with gear. You know, I thought, oh, here comes a crew of guys. Maybe these are the ones that I can kind of get in with and see if I can get some good pictures over the next little while. And T.J. kind of said, who are you? What are you doing here? I had to explain I was a journalist and a photographer. And he just said, oh, OK.
And then he immediately positioned himself between me and his men in this tiny little sleeping area that we had in one corner of the base that was open to the skies. And I knew that I would have to try and win their trust over, which is something you always have to do as an embedded journalist. You have to prove you're not a liability and that you're not going to make life more complicated for them by, first of all, you know, taking pictures that might get them in trouble but also more seriously about, you know, just doing something stupid on patrol like wandering off the line or freaking out when things happen because they've got enough to think about already.
So I found out, you know, much later. Even though T.J. seemed kind of OK, you know, I knew he wasn't thrilled to have me there. But it was only much later that I found out that he had other ideas, right, T.J.? What were you thinking? (Laughter) What were you really thinking that time when we first met?
BRENNAN: Kunjak was on quite a hill. And I was willing to throw Fin off that hill (laughter) over the cliff, if I needed to.
DAVIES: Finbarr O'Reilly, you know, this book is a lot about what exposure to combat does to people. And you were not a soldier. You were a photographer. But you had a lot of years in - reporting in conflict zones - 15 years - much of it in Africa. You write that you lost count of the number of times you've been tear gassed, stoned, shot at, spit on and detained. You write about one particularly harrowing experience in the Congo in 2006. You want to just share that with us?
O'REILLY: I was based in Congo my first job as a foreign reporter. I wasn't a photographer at that time. I was - I started as a journalist and as a writer. So I was working as a photographer by then. I'd spent a year working in Congo and went back over subsequent years to cover the unrest there and, you know, this massive sprawling conflict that was consuming the whole of central Africa, really. And it was around election time - presidential elections - and there was a lot of tension between the incumbent president and his main rival, who was a former warlord. And I ended up with a number of other journalists inside a stadium where the opposition member was having a rally. And there was a lot of hostility to foreigners because there was the feeling that outsiders were trying to influence the elections in favor of the incumbent.
And as there weren't many foreigners physically in the country and, certainly, not at these kind of political rallies, a lot of the anger and frustration and resentment of a youthful support base feels very much like venting on whoever's around. And we were - you know, myself and the other photographers and journalists - in this stadium of 30,000 people - angry people about, you know, these clashes that have been going on. And various, you know, groups of youths started grabbing us, beating us and trying to rough us up quite seriously. And there'd been - it was a day of extreme chaos and rioting outside. Police were being killed and dismembered and burnt alive and pulled through the streets. So it was a moment where you do think that if we don't get out of here now, this is the kind of situation - mob scene - anger, frustration and lack of accountability in the lawless place like Kinshasa that things could go very terribly wrong as we've seen it do for other journalists in other parts of the continent in the past.
So it was a question of trying to find the warlord's security guards when his car sort of eventually rolled into the stadium and just saying, you guys have got to get us out of here now or we're going to be torn to pieces. And we managed to convince them to pull us through the crowd and get us out of the stadium and toward our cars. But it was one of those situations where you're having hands grabbing at you, pulling at you. And usually that would happen just to, you know, grab stuff out of your pockets. But this was - things where - rocks were being thrown at us - sticks, stones - people really wanting to terrorist limb from limb.
And it was one of those situations where, even though you've covered a lot of conflict, civil unrest, at the end of that day, after managing to get to the cars and managing to get away from this angry mob, a lot of the photographers I was with that day - we were about half a dozen - were really shaken and wondering if this is something that they wanted to continue doing in that kind of hostile environment. That was one of the more extreme situations. But what you often encounter this kind of hostility when working in some of the places that I've worked across West Africa.
DAVIES: Finbarr O'Reilly is a veteran photojournalist who's covered conflicts around the world. T.J. Brennan is a retired Marine sergeant and journalist. Their joint memoir is called "Shooting Ghosts." After a break, we'll hear more about Brennan's experiences, including an incident in the battle for Fallujah that's haunted him ever since. Also David Edelstein reviews the new movie "Beach Rats." I'm Dave Davies. And this is FRESH AIR.
(SOUNDBITE OF AARON GOLDBERG AND GUILLERMO KLEIN'S "AIRPORT FUGUE")
DAVIES: This is FRESH AIR. I'm Dave Davies in for Terry Gross who's off this week. We're speaking with Finbarr O'Reilly, a veteran war correspondent, and retired Marine Sergeant, Thomas T.J. Brennan. They've written a joint memoir about the psychological impact of war called "Shooting Ghosts." They met in Afghanistan when O'Reilly was embedded with Brennan's unit and Brennan was knocked unconscious by the blast from a rocket propelled grenade.
T.J., when you were injured by the blast of this rocket propelled grenade, you were taken back to a field hospital in Afghanistan, which was a pretty sophisticated unit. But they had to evaluate you and, you know, see how badly you were harmed. How badly were you hurt? What were your symptoms? Do you remember?
BRENNAN: One of the moments that really sticks out in my mind as to how difficult it was for me just to even think at that period of time was the scene that I wrote about where I was trying to take off my boots to take my first shower in a few months, when I first arrived at Camp Bastion.
And, like, there's something really scary about being inside your own head and telling your hands to untie your laces, and they won't listen. Like, you know what you're supposed to be doing. You're telling yourself what you're supposed to be doing. And your fingers are working, but things just aren't - something's not connecting.
And the emotion and the fear that I felt in that moment, and knowing that I had a difficult time recalling my own daughter's name, like, that was really scary. Like, there's times now where I have that - I call them my bad brain days. And that first time in the hospital was one of my first bad brain days that I had.
DAVIES: When you describe what condition you were in in that field hospital, it's very clear, you know, you'd had a traumatic brain injury. And you were seriously impaired - your - you know, your memory, your judgment, your cognition. But you were a Marine commander, and you missed that bond of those guys up on that hill. And you wanted to be back there for them. Did you lie about your condition so that they would send you back?
BRENNAN: I definitely lied about what was going on inside my head. There was - so we took something called a ANAM. I think the acronym's A-N-A-M. And it's some - it's, like, a cognitive test that we did beforehand. And the results of my pre-deployment evaluation had not been sent with our unit to Afghanistan. So when I got wounded, I had no base line to be compared against. So really, it came down to, like, whatever my initial score was when I first showed up at the field hospital.
I had to improve a certain percentage in order to be able to go back out to my guys. And when I had to do - they make you run, like, a half a mile. And that was an incredibly difficult half mile. It just felt like my head was spinning and that I was just incredibly nauseous. And I lied about having those problems just because I felt so strongly that I needed to be back there for my guys because I was just - in a very selfish way, I was afraid that one of them would get hurt or killed without me there. And selfishly, I was afraid of feeling, you know, guilty later about not being there for them if something like that were going to happen.
DAVIES: It worked. They sent you back. Did you feel you were able to be an effective commander? Did you have the mental tools you needed?
BRENNAN: I believe I did. It wasn't until I got back that I really started to see the - a lot of the cognitive issues that I was having because a lot of my doctors were telling me, you know, it'll get better. Don't worry, like, you'll get back to normal. If you don't, just let us know. So I thought that I was going to be OK when I went back out to my guys.
And then when it came time to me doing the - I call them the basics of being a Marine infantryman - I mean, having my squad's, you know, identification numbers memorized, having their blood types memorized. But when I went back and I started doing my pre-combat checks and pre-combat inspections, I was having a hard time remembering those. And that's a real oh-crap moment when you're responsible for 15 lives.
But I didn't want to be labeled as a malingerer for saying I was having issues because, you know, for me, my traumatic - my TBI is a very - like, the symptoms manifest in a very physical way for me, but they're very invisible to a lot of people. So it's easy for people to discount invisible injuries. And that's probably one of the worst things to experience as somebody with a brain injury because it's - they're very, very, very real to you, just like the depression and the mental health, that - they're invisible to others, but they cripple your life.
DAVIES: Thomas J. Brennan - he goes by T.J. - is a retired Marine sergeant who saw combat in Iraq and Afghanistan, where he was injured. Finbarr O'Reilly is a veteran journalist who's covered conflicts around the world. Their new book is called "Shooting Ghosts." We'll hear more after a break. This is FRESH AIR.
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DAVIES: This is FRESH AIR. We're speaking with Thomas J. Brennan. He goes by T.J. He's a retired Marine sergeant who saw combat in Iraq and Afghanistan, where he was injured. Also with us - Finbarr O'Reilly, a veteran journalist who's covered conflicts around the world. They've collaborated on a memoir about the psychological impact of war. It's called "Shooting Ghosts."
T.J. Brennan, you got through your time as commanding this post in Afghanistan, and you came back home. And I got to say, it is a compelling description of what it's like when Marines come back. And the Marine Corps warns you, it will be hard to adjust. You were still experiencing symptoms from the brain injury you had suffered and depression. It was, you know, clear that you were struggling with this. Were you reluctant to seek help from the Corps to get medical help?
BRENNAN: I ignored getting help for far too long. One of the main reasons why I wanted to write the book was because I understand how it feels to feel alone and like you're the only veteran or, you know, service member going through an issue. It feels like you're surrounded by extremely strong people who're wearing the same uniform that you are, and you don't want to let them down. And that's a lot of why I couldn't bring myself to get help.
DAVIES: Your wife, Mel, was - you know, wanted to help you get better. She was delighted to have you back home. What was your experience with her and the rest of your family like as you were trying to - coming back with all of these issues?
BRENNAN: I treated my wife absolutely horrible. And one of the most difficult parts for me about writing "Shooting Ghosts" was wanting to make sure that I did right by her, and I did right by my family and I did right by my Marines. My wife wanted me home, thankfully, even though I didn't really want to be home, like, once I finally got there.
And her putting the whiteboards on the fridge and the Post-its all over the house, and trying to get me into the habits of hanging up my keys here, and, you know, leaving my wallet here and making sure my bag was here and - so looking back on how terrible I treated her when all she wanted to do was help during that time, it brings me a lot of guilt and a lot of sadness. She could see the problems that I was having long before I was willing to admit that I was having them. And I will forever be grateful for everything she tried to do for me back then.
DAVIES: Well, it's painful to see what you were going through because you're back on a - you're on a military base. You're on a Marine base, and you're involved in training and stuff. So you have a role. They expect you to be a Marine. You're going through some tortuous post-traumatic stress and the effects of the injuries. There's a moment in the book where you described it. You finally are going to get help. You go to this medical unit. And everyone can see it, that you've gone there. And you talk to two leaders. And they tell you, yes, go ahead, that their doors will always be open to you. And then, one of the leaders gathers some other Marines in a little circle to tell them something. Will you share this with us?
BRENNAN: Call them school circles. And it's where people in the unit get around and some people kneel, some sit, some stand. And during that time, it was - I'm not even sure if I can say this on here, but, you know, there was somebody in the battalion who was bitching out and pulling the PTSD punk card. And that was a symbolic moment to me - it was the stigma toward mental health treatment in action. Like, you know, whether it was a hundred percent directed at me or not, like, I had immediately been labeled a piece of broken gear. And, like, that was something that was - that's probably the best thing that could have happened to me.
DAVIES: Really?
BRENNAN: Because I - yeah, in hindsight because I knew it was either I walk back inside and say I'm not getting help and I'm going to deploy back to Afghanistan with these guys in seven months or, you know, I need to steel my resolve and go down the road of getting help because, you know, I just need to accept that my career is over. And I want to make one thing clear. Like, the opinion that, you know, that, quote, unquote, "leader" showed that day, that's not representative of every Marine. That's not representative of every service member.
DAVIES: Right. And just to clarify in case the audience missed it, I mean, the quote in the book is he says that "a bitch-ass sergeant is trying to pull the PTSD punk card. Any of you try to pull that crap, you'll get your rear ends handed to you." So, you know, you went through therapy. And there's a lot of different kinds of therapy. And one of the things that the military does for post-traumatic stress is what's called prolonged exposure therapy. The idea is you're supposed to talk about these traumatic events and describe them again and again and again. And over time, they lose their power. There's a lot of debate. Some people think this isn't effective, but it put you in the position of having to talk not just about your injury in Afghanistan but things you did in Iraq in the fight for Falluja.
You were in one of the most horrific battles of the Iraq conflict. And you killed people. I mean, this happens. This is what you were trained to do. You were fighting a determined enemy. And there was one case where there was a building from which insurgents were firing on your unit. And I believe you fired a rocket-propelled grenade. When you went to examine the wreckage that the two insurgents were dead, unfortunately, there were two children there as well. And in your book, your co-author Finbarr O'Reilly makes an observation about what you have struggled with.
And I - you can only admire what you have gone through in working through so many of these issues. But he notes that besides the brain injury and the trauma of combat, there's what psychologists call a moral injury. That is to say that we're socially programmed not to kill. That's not right. That's not what our DNA tells us. And somehow, you must overcome that. And that there are few things more damaging to the human psyche than betraying our own moral codes, that there's, in effect, a moral injury that comes from doing what you're trained to do and killing people. I'm wondering what your reaction is to that idea.
BRENNAN: You can play all the what-if scenarios before you go into combat, but nothing - I don't think there's ever been a military operation that truly goes to plan. There's too much that's left up to happenstance. And nobody who wears a uniform can see through walls, and there's always unknowns. I did something that will - it'll haunt me for the rest of my life. And it's something that I'm going to grapple with. It's something that it's - it's extremely difficult to talk about right now.
And it's something that, you know, 9 out of the 10 Marines that were there with me didn't even know that that happened because I was one of the few that did, like, battle damage assessment on, you know, after I shot the small rocket. It - really bad stuff happens at war. And it's not always because somebody's being malicious or because somebody wants it to happen, it's just because really crappy stuff can happen when things are out of your control.
DAVIES: Right. I mean, there was certainly no intent on your part to do that.
BRENNAN: No. No. I mean, it's - I - the one thing that I wrote about in the book is that, you know, my wife and I both went, you know, she had two miscarriages. And for me, like, I feel as though, like, part of me feels as though I caused those because of what I did. So, I mean, it's come across like the Atlantic back - it's something that's home with me now, so.
DAVIES: The idea that the two children died as a result of your combat? And...
BRENNAN: Yeah, like I had - I almost feel as though, like, how - what's happened with my family is penance for - I don't know. I don't think I'll ever truly achieve, like, penance for what happened. I don't think I'll ever truly forgive myself.
DAVIES: You know, I guess what's - what was behind the question is that what you were doing that day is you were a professional soldier and you acted professionally, right? I mean, you did what your training told you to do.
O'REILLY: And, Dave, I know from the time that I've spent with T.J. since I met him in 2010, I didn't know about any of this stuff that had happened in Iraq for him until we started working on the book. My understanding was that his post-traumatic stress and that his brain injury were the root cause of his trouble, but I realized much later when he did feel enough trust and enough distance from those events to really kind of reckon with them and understand that he would have to discuss them and confront them and grapple with them, that these were the things that really were the problem.
DAVIES: You know, I feel like I need to say that, T.J. Brennan, while you certainly had a lot of difficulties, you're not unaccomplished. I mean, you started a writing collaboration, and with Finbarr O'Reilly's help with editing, initially got things published on blogs and then eventually had two jobs at local newspapers. You earned an undergraduate degree. You got admittance to the Columbia School of Journalism, which is very prestigious, and graduated from that. You formed a charity, Fog of War. And you started a online newsroom called The War Horse, which has done some great stuff. So it's not like you've been cowering in a room. Do you feel some pride in all that?
BRENNAN: Short answer, yes. A lot of it along my journey has been writing has helped me heal. It has helped me contextualize my own experiences in my own mind. Hopefully it has helped other veterans and civilians contextualize the wars of other veterans. And now here we are today, you know, with The War Horse. We're the only nonprofit newsroom focused on the Department of Defense and the Department of Veterans Affairs. So I can't say that I haven't accomplished a lot - I have.
But what means the most to me was after I wrote about my suicide attempt for The New York Times - I think it was 2013 - I had a Marine veteran reach out to me - actually, he called me on my office line while I was working at The Daily News in North Carolina. He really didn't tell me too much other than the fact that he was an Iraqi immigrant that later joined up and served as a linguist during the wars. And when he came home, his family disowned him.
And it had probably been about seven or 10 days after the story had published, but he told me that he Googled painless quick suicide or some, you know, some sort of a Google search about how to kill himself painlessly and not leave a big mess for his family. And the SEO - the search engine optimization for The New York Times story made that the first thing that popped up. And he called me to tell me that my story renewed his commitment to stay alive.
And, you know, out of all the - The War Horse has been incredible. I can't say that the journalism awards haven't been great. But that one Marine calling me and saying that that, like, something that I wrote, like, helped steel his resolve to not kill himself, that, to me, is one of my greatest accomplishments, like, since coming home. And that, like, that kind of an impact on a truly micro level is my driving force and why I put so much of my heart and soul into not only, you know, writing "Shooting Ghosts" but in trying to give voice to the veterans and civilians that write for us at The War Horse.
DAVIES: T.J. Brennan, thanks so much for your service. And thank you for sharing your story with us.
BRENNAN: Thank you.
DAVIES: And Finbarr O'Reilly, thank you so much for speaking with us.
O'REILLY: Thank you. My pleasure.
DAVIES: T.J. Brennan is a retired Marine sergeant and journalist. Finbarr O'Reilly is a veteran war correspondent. Their joint memoir is called "Shooting Ghosts." Coming up, David Edelstein reviews the new film "Beach Rats." This is FRESH AIR.
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Finbarr O’Reilly
Based
Dakar, Senegal
Born
Swansea, United Kingdom
Status
Photographer
“The best stories are those that challenge preconceived notions about a place or an issue, that challenge stereotypes and make people rethink their view on things.”
BEAT
I cover Africa, social issues, conflict, post-conflict societies and Afghanistan.
PROFILE
I learnt to photograph from my uncle. I had a camera growing up and was always interested in photography, but never thought I would end up working as a photographer. He taught me how to look at things, to see simple, telling details in everyday life.
My first assignment for Reuters was working as a text reporter based in Kinshasa, Congo, in 2001. Bit by bit, I began taking photos to accompany my written reports. I then made a trip to Darfur, Sudan, in 2004 and that’s where I really discovered the power and immediate impact of photography.
The last few years have taken a huge toll on journalists. Friends and colleagues have been wounded in Afghanistan and killed covering the wars in Libya and Syria. Those experiences leave a mark. That kind of thing makes you rethink what you are doing, the way you’re doing it, and your reasons for doing it.
I work best on longer-term, in-depth stories involving social issues. Anything where you can probe beneath the surface and reveal not only something that is happening, but why it is happening, and how. Bigger picture stuff beyond the obvious, beyond the initial headlines.
The best stories are those that challenge preconceived notions about a place or an issue, that challenge stereotypes and make people rethink their view on things.
I never have a specific audience in mind when I shoot pictures. I’m too busy thinking about what I’m trying to say.
We are constantly learning. That’s what keeps photography interesting. There’s no limit, no point where you can say you understand or know everything about it. It’s an endless exploration of the world and our own place in it.
One thing I have learnt is that photography is mostly about relationships – between people, things, places, and situations. If you’re not sure what you’re supposed to be shooting, think about the relationship of your subjects to something – another person, their location, or even to yourself. This will help you clarify in your mind what the story is about.
Often Africa gets overlooked by the media, or is viewed in a narrow, stereotypical way, but strong images can reach a broad and diverse audience and can change people’s ideas.
In terms of photography, I respect anyone who can make lasting images. Images that remain with you, or that can resonate many years later. It’s easy to get caught up in the news cycle and to take an obvious picture, something that fills the hole for that day but will be instantly forgotten. As news wire photographers, we’re on constant deadlines and must find ways to be creative in minimal amounts of time. Anyone who can do that consistently earns my respect.
Finbarr O'Reilly spent 12 years as a Reuters correspondent and staff photographer based in West and Central Africa and won the 2006 World Press Photo of the Year. His coverage of conflicts and social issues across Africa has earned numerous awards from the National Press Photographer's Association and Pictures of the Year International for both his multimedia work and photography, which has been exhibited internationally. Finbarr spent two years living in Congo and Rwanda and his multimedia exhibition Congo on the Wire debuted at the 2008 Bayeux War Correspondent's Festival before traveling to Canada and the US. He embedded regularly with coalition forces fighting in Afghanistan between 2008-2011 before moving to Israel in 2014, where he covered the summer war in Gaza from inside the Strip. He is a 2016 MacDowell Colony Fellow and a writer in residence at the Carey Institute for Global Good, a 2015 Yale World Fellow, a 2014 Ochberg Fellow at Columbia University’s DART Center for Journalism and Trauma, and a 2013 Harvard Nieman Fellow. He is among those profiled in Under Fire: Journalists in Combat, a documentary film about the psychological costs of covering war. The film won a 2013 Peabody Award and was shortlisted for a 2012 Academy Award. He is currently based in London.
By TIM PERRY CBS NEWS August 30, 2017, 6:49 PM
"Shooting Ghosts" authors on returning home from war
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More than sixteen years after the U.S. fired the first shots against Afghanistan's Taliban government, America's longest war has taken a new turn. In a late-August address, President Donald Trump laid out his plans to ramp-up American involvement, sending some 4,000 additional troops to the region.
"Face the Nation," moderator John Dickerson spoke that week to the authors of the memoir "Shooting Ghosts: A U.S. Marine, a Combat Photographer, and Their Journey Back from War" - retired U.S. Marine Sergeant Thomas "TJ" Brennan and award-wining combat photojournalist Finbarr O'Reilly.
The book chronicles their shared experiences under-fire in Afghanistan as well as their difficulties returning home.
"I think what a lot of people don't realize when people come home from wars is the toll that it takes on a military family" Brennan said. "When I came home from war I came home a different person."
Dickerson asked O'Reilly about photographing servicemen and capturing them at their most vulnerable.
"You have to be very empathetic to the stories that you're covering." O'Reilly said and added, "but at the same time you have to dull your emotions a little bit in order to not feel overwhelmed."
O'Reilly told Dickerson that writing the book served as a tool to help both men cope with their post-war lives by finding a new sense of purpose.
He also stated that the book should serve as a tool to help others in similar situations "so that they may not feel so alone in those times where we felt very alone ourselves."
"Trauma is a very isolating kind of thing and the inclination is to turn inward and away from people at the very time when you need their support to move through this."
Today, Thomas Brennan is the founder and editor of the warhorse.org, a news website covering military and veterans issues. Finbarr O'Reilly's work can be found at www.finbarr-oreilly.com.
© 2017 CBS Interactive Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Finbarr O’Reilly is a Reuters photographer based in Dakar, Senegal and a 2013 Nieman Fellow at Harvard University. Born in Swansea, Wales in 1971, O’Reilly holds both British and Canadian citizenship. After studying journalism at Ryerson University in Toronto, he started his career in 1998 writing as an arts correspondent for Canada’s Globe and Mail newspaper before moving on to the National Post, where he spent three years writing about pop culture, music, and film. In 2001, he left North America and joined Reuters as a text stringer in Kinshasa, Congo, where he spent a year before becoming the African Great Lakes correspondent, based out of Kigali, Rwanda. In 2003, he made two documentary films, co-producing ‘The Ghosts of Lomako’, about conservation in Congo, and co-directing and shooting ‘The Digital Divide’, about technology in the developing world. While working with Reuters, O’Reilly turned towards photography. As he told World Press Photo, ‘There was no photographer available to illustrate my stories and since I liked the idea of being a photographer, I tried to supply accompanying photos. They weren’t much to begin with because I had only a point-and-shoot camera, not much experience, plus Congo is a difficult place to work as a photographer. But a year or two later while working out of Rwanda, I got a better digital camera and then spent a month travelling around Darfur in Sudan, both writing and photographing the conflict there for Reuters. <>’ Shortly after beginning to work as a photographer, O’Reilly was awarded the 2006 World Press Photo of the Year for his image of a mother and child at an emergency feeding center in Niger. Since then, he has won numerous industry awards for his multimedia work and photography, including first place awards from Pictures of the Year Internal (POYi) and the National Press Photographers Association (NPPA). He is published widely in leading international magazines and newspapers and his solo exhibition, ‘Congo on the Wire’ was shown in France and Canada. O’Reilly is among those profiled in the documentary film ‘Under Fire: Journalists in Combat’ (2011). He currently works as the Reuters chief photographer for West and Central Africa, coordinating pictures coverage for 24 countries.
Shooting Ghosts: A U.S. Marine, a Combat Photographer, and Their Journey Back from War
264.22 (May 29, 2017): p55.
Copyright: COPYRIGHT 2017 PWxyz, LLC
http://www.publishersweekly.com/
* Shooting Ghosts: A U.S. Marine, a Combat Photographer, and Their Journey Back from War
Thomas J. Brennan and Finbarr O'Reilly. Viking, $27 (336p) ISBN 978-0-399-56254-9
In this well-written account of dealing with war trauma, a still-taboo subject for many in the military, Brennan and O'Reilly, a retired Marine Corps sergeant and a battle-hardened photojournalist, respectively, confront the manner in which they were consumed by the hell of warfare and saved by the power of words and pictures. In Afghanistan's Helmand province, Brennan methodically goes about his work, killing Taliban insurgents and children who get in the way. O'Reilly was driven in his own way in covering African wars and civil strife in Congo, Libya, and elsewhere. While embedded in Brennan's squad, O'Reilly photographs the wounds the sergeant suffers after an explosion. Their lives now linked, when the shooting stops and the blasts end for them, neither man can survive his respective trauma without treatment. O'Reilly seeks help and receives it without much ado. But Brennan must navigate the Corps's byzantine bureaucracy and the perverse machismo of fellow soldiers and commanders who disparage post-traumatic stress disorder as a weakness. Brennan and O'Reilly <
Source Citation (MLA 8th Edition)
"Shooting Ghosts: A U.S. Marine, a Combat Photographer, and Their Journey Back from War." Publishers Weekly, 29 May 2017, p. 55. General OneFile, http://link.galegroup.com/apps/doc/A494500745/ITOF?u=schlager&sid=ITOF&xid=1c6c19ff. Accessed 12 Jan. 2018.
Gale Document Number: GALE|A494500745
SHOOTING GHOSTS
A U.S. Marine, a Combat Photographer, and Their Journey Back from War
by Thomas J. Brennan & Finbarr O'Reilly
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KIRKUS REVIEW
The story of the friendship between an embedded photographer in Afghanistan and a Marine who was wounded in an ambush explosion in 2010.
In this poignant memoir penned in alternating points of view by two very different participants in America’s war in Afghanistan, the authors achieve a shared sense of emotional and physical trauma. O’Reilly, a photojournalist who has spent more than a decade in the most dangerous hot spots on the planet, from Africa to Helmand Province, and Brennan, a Marine squad leader on deployment in Afghanistan, met during that horrific Taliban attack in 2010. O’Reilly took pictures of a wounded Brennan and put them on a web link, to the alarm of his parents, who did not know what was going on. Ultimately, the two “misfits” would meet again in America over their shared suffering from long-running PTSD. After his many deployments and injuries, Brennan suffered from serious concussions, although he preferred to lie about the symptoms rather than reveal the extent of his injuries; O’Reilly, stationed in war zones in Africa and elsewhere, was in denial about his emotional instability. Both men ultimately sought professional help, though for Brennan, it was particularly arduous and painful; even asking for help as a Marine branded him as a “pussy” and lowered his stature with his squad. Nonetheless, the plethora of suicides among his acquaintances and his own bewilderment propelled him to change his career to being a journalist chronicling veterans’ concerns. O’Reilly, on the other hand, had to fight feelings of being “predatory and repulsive” in shooting and publishing scenes of violence. Ultimately, the authors effectively reveal how they moved beyond the “fog of war” and forged a new life after the trauma.
<> to seek mental health for veterans and the war-scarred.
Pub Date: Aug. 22nd, 2017
ISBN: 978-0-399-56254-9
Page count: 336pp
Publisher: Viking
Review Posted Online: June 5th, 2017
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15th, 2017
Shooting Ghosts: a parable of a US marine and a combat photographer
Much like the British war poets of 100 years ago, authors Finbarr O’Reilly and Thomas Brennan hold a mirror up to warfare, explains Kapil Komireddi
Kapil Komireddi
Kapil Komireddi
September 15, 2017
Updated: September 17, 2017 10:40 AM
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The war in Afghanistan has lasted longer than the First and Second World Wars combined, and the chaos and carnage inaugurated by the 2003 invasion of Iraq have only intensified over the years. Chris Hondros / Getty Images
The war in Afghanistan has lasted longer than the First and Second World Wars combined, and the chaos and carnage inaugurated by the 2003 invasion of Iraq have only intensified over the years. Chris Hondros / Getty Images
Shooting Ghosts: A U.S. Marine, a Combat Photographer, and Their Journey Back from War by Thomas J. Brennan and Finbarr O’Reilly
Almost exactly a century ago, Wilfred Owen met Siegfried Sassoon at the Craiglockhart military hospital in Edinburgh. Owen, a second lieutenant in the Manchester Regiment, was sent there to recover from shell shock and captain Sassoon to evade a possible court martial for his protest against the war.
The two men were divided by their origins. Sassoon, descended from a great Baghdadi-Jewish family from India, attended Marlborough College and read history at Cambridge. Owen, whose “grammar school accent” Sassoon thought “embarrassing”, couldn’t afford to go to university after leaving Shrewsbury Technical College.
Yet, thrown together by war, the two men forged a profound friendship in the short time they spent together. Owen was killed a year later, precisely a week before armistice, at the age of 25. His poetry, edited and published posthumously by Sassoon, would probably never have come about had the two men not met.
The war in Afghanistan has lasted longer than the First and Second World Wars combined, and the chaos and carnage inaugurated by the 2003 invasion of Iraq have only intensified over the years.
Alex Wong / Getty Images
Alex Wong / Getty Images
The unlikely friendship between the authors of Shooting Ghosts, moulded on the battlefields of Afghanistan, is not unlike the relationship between Sassoon and Owen.
Finbarr O’Reilly is the pedigreed half of the pair. A Canadian photojournalist who spent years reporting from conflicts in Africa and Asia, he is a man of metropolitan sensibilities. He has travelled widely, socialised with all sorts and developed a taste for international cuisine.
Thomas Brennan is the provincial, a white working-class American who struggled at school, didn’t quite know how he’d pay for college, enlisted in the US Marine Corps in 2003 and was deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan. When the two first ran into each other at a spartan base in Afghanistan in October 2010, O’Reilly – “embedded” in a unit commanded by Brennan – quickly fabricated a back story for the American in his mind: “a bit of a redneck – the kind of guy who could spend hours picking off birds or rodents with an air rifle just out of boredom”.
Shooting Ghosts: A U.S. Marine, a Combat Photographer, and Their Journey Back from War by Thomas J. Brennan and Finbarr O’Reilly
Shooting Ghosts: A U.S. Marine, a Combat Photographer, and Their Journey Back from War by Thomas J. Brennan and Finbarr O’Reilly
Brennan, for his part, viewed O’Reilly at first as a liability. But the mutual wariness quickly dissolved in the rush and anomie of war. A bond began to form. Then, on November 1, they were ambushed. Their bodies were outwardly intact. But they were shattered from within, broken and disfigured. Brennan’s memory was wiped out. O’Reilly, moving from assignment to assignment, turned cold and irascible.
According to a study published by the Rand Corporation in 2008, at least 20 per cent of American veterans of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars suffer from some form of post-traumatic stress disorder. Brennan is one of them. After returning home from Afghanistan, he struggled to reconnect with his wife. He could not remember their most important shared memories – their wedding day, the birth of their daughter – so he lied about them. To admit the truth, he feared, was to exhibit weakness.
His mind, having erased his happiest memories, exhumed and amplified harrowing particulars from his past. Brennan recounts the moment in Iraq when he walked up to an insurgent who was “barely alive”: “I picked up a cinder block from the rubble, dropped to my knee, stared into the dull blackness of his eyes. I watched as his brain matter continued to ooze from his shattered skull. My knuckles turned white as I clenched the brick in my fists … Someone pulled me away and I stood, looking at what I’d done. It didn’t feel real. The insurgent was dead, finally. And I watched him die. Face to face. Staring into his eyes as they turned opaque. I was elated. I even smiled … In my rage I felt raw power”.
That power disappeared in America, and Brennan made an abortive suicide attempt by overdosing on pills. When he sought help, he was detained and put through the bureaucratic wringer. Brennan admits he is not against war. But don’t Iraqis and Afghans, he wonders in an entry dated December 2012, “just want the same thing I want now: to be left alone, to be happy?”
Having obtained a master’s degree in journalism from Columbia in 2015, Brennan went on to found The War Horse, an online publication devoted to journalism about veterans’ affairs. He is a writer of tremendous promise.
It is impossible not to be moved by O’Reilly’s story. He dedicated his career to documenting conflicts in places neglected by the world, only to find himself abruptly laid-off by a faceless executive at Reuters, a casualty of corporate restructuring. But he ought to know that the extraordinary body of work he produced, at great personal risk, will endure. And the part he played in Brennan’s recovery – it is O’Reilly’s work that helped the marine piece his past together – and subsequent journey is its own achievement.
O’Reilly’s commentary and analysis clarify the seemingly gratuitous acts of violence by combatants on the battlefield. But his decision to overlook America’s missionary foreign policy is puzzling. What we get is a reflection on the effects of war prised from the ideological certitudes that engender war. O’Reilly writes about the reasons that draw young men to the military and to war – the prospect of self-validation, the possibility of impressing women, and the glamour and the sheer thrill of combat – then absolves them of individual responsibility by saying they are merely carrying out their “nation’s order to fight”.
Brennan’s sacrifice, suffering and remorse cannot take away from the fact that America’s wars placed a surfeit of defenceless Arabs and Afghans at the mercy of frenzied young men who were itching to kill. O’Reilly, in one uncharacteristically self-mythologising passage, quotes Elena Ferrante to explain why he and Brennan were drawn to war: “We went to expose ourselves to fear and interrogate it”. Millions of people do this by going rock-climbing.
Shooting Ghosts is a cathartic endeavour, a graphically detailed memoir written in alternating first-person narratives. It is distressing and affecting, and there is much here that Americans who have returned from their country’s calamitous wars in other people’s countries may find therapeutic.
Yet for all its power, this is a book about the torment of the American soul, not the torture inflicted on the victims of America’s interminable wars. It ends up affirming, despite the authors’ best efforts, the long tradition of self-pitying self-evaluations that Americans produce after plunging distant societies into homicidal chaos.