The issues mainly related to Estonian deployments to Afghanistan from 2003.

"Pealtnägija" spoke to three vets: Artur Lavrinenko from Türi, Järva County, Artjom Heinsaar from Saue, just outside Tallinn, and Venno Tamjärv from Saaremaa.
All three spoke openly on an area most of their comrades prefer to remain silent on.

The mental health struggles and even suicides of men who had fought in Afghanistan have been repeatedly discussed over the years, yet, victims say, the EDF has not done enough to prevent further people falling victim.

The most complex and casualty-heavy foreign mission in the history of the EDF began in the spring of 2003, in northern Afghanistan expanding three years later to the southern Helmand province.

There, Estonian troops fought alongside NATO allies against the radical Islamist movement, the Taliban.

Estonian units, initially consisting of a few dozen people and at their peak, nearly 200, deployed on six-month tours.

Over the next 18 years, more than 2,400 Estonian soldiers served on the front line in Afghanistan, just as a previous generation had done in very different circumstances, during the Soviet occupation of Estonia.

EDF chief medical officer Ahti Varblane said that although the Afghan conflict was generally considered a low-intensity war, at certain levels, it was clearly akin to a conventional conflict.

Estonian units, identified by the national blue-black-white flag, were designated with the call sign "Estcoy," followed by a number, down to Estcoy-20 as the last such unit.

For example, Lavrinenko served in Estcoy-8 (2009), Tamjärv in Estcoy-11 (2010-11), while Heinsaar served across a total of five missions.

All found little time for acclimatization both literally and figuratively, once arrived. Though significantly less well-equipped, Taliban fighters proved resourceful and fiercely resisted allied forces.

"The first incident came when bullets flew over the base — it hit me that, yes, they might fire on us, and they probably want to hit us," Tamjärv, who served in Afghanistan in 2011-2012, recalled.

Heinsaar filled in on this. "At first, I didn't even realize a weapon was firing because I'm used to firing myself, and I know the sound."

"But here it was: A sharp, nasty report. And with the whistling of the bullets, I understood that it didn't matter whether they passed right by me or three meters away — the sound was exactly the same, meaning you never knew how precise the enemy's aim is."

Meanwhile, Lavrinenko said it wasn't long before the radio waves were chock full of reports of someone already being wounded.

"That's when it hit me — this is exactly what I had mentally prepared for. That's when it truly sank in," he said.

Apart from living with constant stress and some people experiencing minor injuries, Heinsaar's first mission with Estcoy-2 passed without major losses. However, just a year later, while serving with Estcoy-4, the first casualties had already been seen.

Lavrinenko's unit, the Estcoy-8 infantry company, seemed cursed from day one and became a part of the deadliest deployment in the history of the EDF.

Over a six-month period, 14 were wounded in battle, and three were killed.

Lavrinenko himself was injured in a grenade blast, witnessed a friend suffering life-changing injuries and, weeks later, saw another comrade perish.

He was airlifted to a military hospital after his own injury, and sent home a week later.

The mission, which was supposed to last six months, ended for him in the sixth week, but he has been dealing with the consequences for over 15 years.

The first setbacks came quickly.

In August 2010, a year after the mission, one soldier, Aare Viirmaa, who had been severely wounded while serving with Estcoy-8, tragically took his own life.

Nearly five years later, in May 2015, another member of the same unit, Rivo Ekbaum, succumbed to the same tragedy.

Lavrinenko, who had been in treatment and was getting his life back on track, now sank back into a dark hole.
"For me, my first thoughts were that this war will never end," he recalled.

Heinsaar, who had been teetering on a similar downward spiral for years and has an eight-year-old daughter from a previous relationship, finally took serious action, at the end of 2021.

He sought help from mental health specialists and was diagnosed with PTSD, something which directly affects his daily life and relationships with loved ones.

"The only thing keeping me going is my daughter," he added.
"At times, when I'm in crisis, I just know — I have to live for my child," Heinsaar went on.

In March last year, he submitted an application to the EDF to receive disability benefits for his health damage, which would cover both his medical expenses and the necessary therapy, which comes to several hundred euros per month.
But despite the PTSD diagnosis, the EDF still refused to grant him compensation.

According to his legal representative, Erki Casar, the EDF claims there is no causal link between his health disorder and what he experienced on the mission.

"They say there is no specific event, that it was not recorded as a work accident or an incident akin to a work accident. The event itself is what matters, not whether it was officially recorded."

Under Estonian law, the applicant must prove that their health problems arose specifically during their service with the EDF.

Even as Heinsaar's medical records clearly showed that his mental trauma resulted from the Afghanistan missions, the law requires each episode to be documented immediately after it occurs.

According to Varblane, Heinsaar had no such entries, hence why the committee could not make a positive decision. "The committee bases its decisions on the information available at the given moment," he said.

While serious physical injuries such as amputations are usually undisputed, decisions regarding invisible injuries like Heinsaar's are more complicated and largely come down to bureaucracy.

The EDF's stance is that not only should the exact moment of psychological trauma be explicitly recorded, but also its effects must be severe enough to prompt a continuous medical leave of at least six months, or 182 days.

According to Heinsaar, this clearly demonstrates the need for legal changes. The current regulations apply to physical injuries, he said, while PTSD can take time to develop, over weeks, months and even years.

Heinsaar challenged the EDF decision, citing numerous examples of dangerous and stressful situations he encountered during missions, which were corroborated by written statements from fellow soldiers.

Nevertheless, on August 16 last year, the EDF's support command medical center (Kaitseväe toetuse väejuhatuse tervisekeskus) once again ruled that he was not entitled to compensation.

The EDF's chief psychologist, Kaidi Kiis, told "Pealtnägija" that the decision surprised her. "As in the past — two years ago, three or four years ago — such cases have resulted in positive decisions."

Varblane said the discrepancy may stem from different expert opinions.
Around the same time as Heinsaar's case, Lavrinenko was recognized as eligible for compensation.

In his case, the determining factor was that he had also suffered physical injuries from an explosion, so his case had been documented as a combat-related incident.

Experts say the current EDF approach is a bureaucratic absurdity, if not outright unfair and insulting to the men who fought for Estonia.

Heinsaar has contested the EDF decision at the administrative court, and said experts believe this case could set a precedent and serve as a model for future disputes: Not only for military veterans but also for police officers, medical personnel, and other vital service providers.

According to Heinsaar, the chair of the military medical commission called him, summoned him to his office, and told him that veterans were to blame for their own illnesses.

"You drink a lot of alcohol. You just come here demanding money from the EDF, money you have no right to demand. And there are 1,500 of you who are like that," Heinsaar recalled the chairman's words as being.

He added that if one takes into consideration missions to Iraq, also starting 2003, along with Afghanistan until 2014, there are indeed 1,500 such veterans. "And these were the hardest missions. This shows that they are aware of the problem, but they don't want to acknowledge it," Heinsaar said.

According to Varblane, psychological support at the EDF has undergone significant development over the past decade, while studies confirm that veterans' mental health indicators are better than those of their peers outside the military.

Kaidi Kiis says she is currently treating around 10 veterans with similar issues, with another five on her radar who do not acknowledge their problems, but no one knows the actual number of those in need.

As several recent suicides have sadly demonstrated, it is a race against time.
Meelis, who lived in Saaremaa and took his own life in January, appeared on the surface to be a sporty and active person, judging by his social media posts, yet proved unable to reintegrate into society after his deployment.

When asked why the EDF didn't do more to help him, Kiis answered: "We did try to help, but there are situations where all the assistance that can be provided, and everything that is provided, is still not enough to prevent the illness from progressing to a stage where a person's life ends in death."

--

Follow ERR News on Facebook and Twitter and never miss an update!