Thursday, October 1, 2026
Editor’s note: The following is an opinion piece by Kristofer Goldsmith, an Iraq War veteran from the South Shore. He currently studies political science at Columbia University, is a member of the Defense Council of the Truman National Security Project and founded High Ground Veterans Advocacy.
Like any Long Islander old enough to remember, I can recall precisely when I realized that New York City was under attack on Sept. 11, 2001. I was a student at Mepham High School in North Bellmore, and I couldn’t wait to enlist and defend the country.
At 19, I was on a convoy from Kuwait heading to Baghdad. I was confused and angry when my first days in Iraq were nothing like the news reports that I had seen on TV. Iraqis were not waving flags and smiling.
I had my first close call with an improvised explosive device before I arrived in Baghdad. The bomb exploded just above my armored vehicle. I was fine physically, and only one allied civilian was injured in the incident. From that moment on, however, I realized just how chaotic and nonsensical the experience of war actually was. There was no enemy to fight. There were only explosions, followed by confusion.
When I returned home from Iraq, post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD, was just an acronym to me. My friends and family on Long Island, however, recognized that something was off. I was drinking heavily and fighting. My first night back, I was at a New Year’s Eve party, and celebratory fireworks triggered an irrepressible panic in me that scared the hell out of everyone who saw me. I remember thinking, “I’m home. It’s a firecracker. I’m fine,” while being unable to stop myself from running into nearby bushes.
When I finally realized that I needed help, I felt like it was already too late. My active-duty Army contract had been involuntarily extended, and the week that I was preparing to return to my civilian life ended up becoming my new deployment date. When I asked for help from Army psychiatrists to deal with my panic attacks and overwhelming depression, I was diagnosed with a “personality disorder” or an “adjustment disorder” – pre-existing conditions, they said, which were “diagnosed” without regard to the reality that I had spent the end of my teenage years photographing mutilated corpses.
Rather than put a gun in my mouth and force my mother to bury her first-born in a closed casket at Long Island’s Calverton National Cemetery next to my World War II veteran grandfather, I chose opioids and vodka to take my own life.
From the moment I woke up after my suicide attempt, I was treated like a criminal. Within weeks, I exited the Army with a “general,” rather than an honorable, discharge –– and without a clear sense of which way was up. I returned to Long Island, to live in my childhood bedroom in Bellmore, and I spent nearly all of my money getting wasted. With my life’s dream of serving in the military devolving into a nightmare, I figured: Why plan for tomorrow?
Thankfully, my mom encouraged me to go to the Northport Veterans Affairs Medical Center and demand help. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, even without an honorable discharge, I was still eligible for VA health care. There I met a psychologist, Dr. Matthew Williams, and the specialized team tasked with caring for post-9/11 era veterans. Thanks to Williams’s willingness to help me, even during his lunch hours, I finally received the care that I needed. Over the next few years, the wonderful folks at Northport VA pulled me out of the dark hole that I was stuck in.
About five years into my slow recovery, I met Chris Holder, a VA employee who, despite my ineligibility for the post-9/11 G.I. Bill, worked to ensure that I returned to school. From the Hicksville Vet Center, he helped give me the confidence that I needed to give college a try. Two years later, as the president of Student Veterans of Nassau Community College, I helped to open NCC’s Veterans Resource Facility. Soon I was accepted to Columbia University’s School of General Studies.
Earlier this year, U.S. representatives Kathleen Rice, Lee Zeldin, Peter King and Steve Israel came together for their first-ever joint news conference at Eisenhower Park to announce that they had introduced the bipartisan Fairness for Veterans Act. This bill, championed by the Long Island delegation and U.S. Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand, would help veterans like me whose symptoms of PTSD weren’t diagnosed or properly treated when it mattered most – and then were punished by being denied access to veterans’ health care and benefits they had earned by their service.
This year I’ve been fortunate to have had the opportunity to spend time with these elected officials, and I can tell you firsthand that they care deeply for our veterans. Former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton also declared her support for our bill and promised to keep working to ensure that veterans like me get the care that they deserve. Donald Trump’s surrogates privately promised the same.
The story of the Long Island-inspired Fairness for Veterans Act is being told on the countdown to Veterans Day through a documentary series called “Charlie Foxtrot,” by Tegna Media, and can be viewed online at MissionCharlieFoxtrot.com. It will include a national call-to-action informing viewers and voters how they can best help push this bill past the finish line before the end of the year.
