"Deployment makes your soul turn gray"

Jonathan Göllner is a Catholic military chaplain in Deanery Cologne (Dekanat Köln). He is currently undergoing occupational rehabilitation. Twice he accompanied soldiers of the German armed forces in Afghanistan. In this interview, he talks about various psychologically and morally stressful events, the traces they have left behind, and what he has gained despite his illness.

Mr. Göllner, you were diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder and depression. How are you doing right now?
I’m doing well. I had another course of therapy in the first half of the year and am very stable now.

How did your illness develop?
It goes back to when I accompanied the mission in Afghanistan in 2009. After several courses of therapy and inpatient stays in the years after that, I was relatively well for a long time – until I was retraumatized by the Ukraine war. The Gaza war in October 2023 was the final straw. I went to the Bundeswehr hospital in Koblenz right away. However, I didn’t get an inpatient therapy place again until March 2025, at a different facility.

What did you experience in Afghanistan?
The first time, in Mazar-i-Sharif in 2006/2007, had no lasting effects. When I was in Kunduz from August to November 2009, there wasn’t one triggering event, but a string of many stressors. The so-called‑ Kunduz air strike played a major role during this period, particularly in terms of moral injury.

Could you explain that in more detail?
I had got into the habit of flicking through all the TV news channels every morning in my room. When I heard about the air strike, I went straight to the command building, where everything was already in motion. I experienced this situation as a loss of control. The world’s media were in uproar, saying German soldiers had committed war crimes, there were debates in the Bundestag, and there we were, at the end of the world, and we couldn’t defend ourselves. Many journalists came to our camp, and the U.S. commander was constantly shadowed by a media entourage. The Afghan population, on the other hand, cheered our patrols and showered them with small change. The regular rocket attacks also stopped.

Just a few weeks before my deployment, I had attended a preparatory seminar for chaplains in Berlin. Going to Afghanistan believing that we were bringing something good and then experiencing this sense of uncertainty – that was one of the key factors.

Did you have any opportunity to form your own opinion?
As military chaplains, we also observe mission operations with a discerning eye. To do this effectively, it’s important to carefully sift through the facts so that we neither support decisions unreservedly nor condemn everything outright. A contradictory message you receive can instantly and radically unsettle your own values, and in that moment there’s simply no time to address it. That is also a factor in trauma: being overwhelmed. Just as on a psychological level it tends to affect processing in the brain, on the moral and ethical level there is no room for processing either.

Wasn’t that too much for you as a chaplain?
As a chaplain, I was totally in my role. I have rarely had so many intense conversations. I was asked, what do you say to that as a priest? Suddenly I had to contact Germany, be present in the camp, discuss things with the leadership – all at the same time, but it worked. The key factor in the trauma was the questioning of our own moral status. I once put it like this: Deployment “makes your soul turn gray” – you never get out with your hands clean.

Even if one has nothing to reproach oneself for “objectively”, apparently this feeling is quite common?
You are held collectively responsible from the outside; as a chaplain, I am also in a special position. I don’t carry a weapon, but the responsibility still falls on me too, or even all the more so because I am also something like the “conscience” of the mission.

After a few weeks and the regular change of command, everything had calmed down a bit. But when I came home and saw the story screaming at me from every newsstand, I realized the mission was far from over, even though it was officially complete.

But besides being morally overwhelmed, you said there were other events too?
Yes, I still clearly remember the regular rocket attacks. My predecessor and I wanted to have a barbecue with the new and old members of the pastoral care group. But the siren went off and we had to sprint 200 meters to the shelter. Then you get some absurd reactions: The attack was bad, but what was worse was that the steak got burnt in the meantime. Once, I was sitting in my office on a Monday morning. I had just posted the “Word for the Day” online, and was about to go for breakfast. At that moment, there was a loud bang and the door came flying at me, because of the shock wave from outside. A suicide bomber had blown himself up near the camp, but no-one else was hurt. When the all-clear was given, I thought, oh well, I wanted to have breakfast, so I went and had breakfast.

Weren’t you afraid for your life?
You can’t be afraid for your life for four months straight. It gets pushed into the background. But there is a constant underlying tension. It’s worst for those who have to remain passive and constantly feel like they’re a target. Once, I was traveling unscheduled in a convoy to another base and there was a warning. When I asked the soldiers in the stuffy armored personnel carrier what I should do if we were attacked, it dawned on me that I was reliant on others to defend or protect me. That was frightening. Moments like that, when I felt so vulnerable and helpless, had the greatest impact on me.

When and how did you notice the effects of your deployment? And how did you deal with them?
I can say exactly when it started: on December 25, 2009. During my afternoon nap, I dreamed that my lower leg had been shot right through. When I woke up, it took me a while to dare to pull back the covers and look at my leg, that’s how real the dream was. When more nightmares followed, I turned to a doctor in the barracks who I had a good working relationship with. He quickly got me an initial appointment with Dr. Peter Zimmermann in Berlin.

Have you experienced any other symptoms, past or present?
Yes, especially what is known as hypervigilance, a constant feeling of being on edge. For example, I never sit with my back to a door when we go to a restaurant. Of course, it’s incredibly tiring to be constantly checking the situation.

Are you also noticing physical reactions?
It’s exhausting. But it’s not all negative. I notice a lot more, both good and bad. I smell the roses in a garden, but at the same time I smell the exhaust fumes from trucks and it reminds me of the tanks in Kunduz. I hear the birds singing, but I’m also much more jumpy. Apart from that, I now know what demons lurk in my basement and how to deal with them fairly well.

Trauma is an injury, but it does provide an opportunity for growth

Does therapy really help you to get to know yourself better?
Yes, it’s also referred to as post-traumatic growth. Trauma is an injury, but it does provide an opportunity for growth. Many people say, “oh my God, you poor guy…” Yes, what I experienced was terrible, and I didn’t want it to happen, but it’s part of my life story. In a way, I’ve also gained something personally. I’ve developed new resources.

What helped you the most during or after therapy?
One important factor was that I had read up on the subject of traumatization before my deployment. When I first saw Professor Zimmermann, I told him directly: You must excuse me – you see, normally I sit where you are sitting. Because I was diagnosing myself to a certain extent, I was able to process what I had experienced more quickly.

I would describe trauma with this analogy: A whole lot of things come crashing down on me. I stuff them into the closet in complete disorder, and push the doors shut so that it stays closed. But at some point, my strength wanes, and everything comes crashing down on me again. Then I try to stuff everything back in again and push against the doors, but this time it doesn’t stay shut as long. Until I reach the point where I take the space and the time to look at everything and put it away properly. And suddenly the doors stay closed on their own.

Incidentally, medication is also part of the therapy – sometimes more, sometimes less. But above all, it’s about working on your own resources. I have tapped into completely new sources of resilience.

Can you give an example?
I find body awareness to be a very powerful source. During my last stay in hospital, for example, I discovered qigong.

To what extent have faith and spirituality played a role?
Spirituality plays an important role, of course, but less in the form of traditional piety and more as a quiet retreat, meditation. I live my life with a healthy basic trust: There is something there, there is God who carries and sustains me. My deployment helped me gain a keener understanding of many aspects of faith. It’s one thing to preach about death and resurrection at Sunday service, but quite another to face the possibility of death and resurrection on your doorstep virtually every day. Nowadays, a lot of things are peripheral to me. On deployment, there is a just a tent or a container, a chalice, a bowl of bread ... Thank God, this basic equipment proved to be sufficient.

For the soldiers too?
They don’t judge you by your title, but by how credibly you represent your message as a person. Above all, you need a good coffee machine and simply an open door; everything else will follow. The “Room of Silence” was always open, and it was used a lot, even by those who didn’t attend services. Many stopped by, lit candles, sometimes drew a heart or a sun in the bowl filled with sand, and placed a tea light inside. There is a need for spiritual fellowship. But I occasionally shared my concerns too when I sensed things were off track.

Did you also experience the much-described “intensity of the mission”?
For many soldiers, deployment means camaraderie, closeness, standing up for each other. I have never experienced this as intensely as I did there. I also know from many that their marriage or relationship did not survive their deployments – the experiences are just too different. For me, it was one of the reasons for my estrangement from the Benedictine community, which I was still a member of at the time.

Returning to the events in Kunduz, do you still have doubts, feelings of guilt or suchlike? Or have you reached a final moral conclusion for yourself – and if so, how?
Doubts, certainly: What did the mission in Afghanistan achieve? Particularly since it was ended so abruptly. Was it worth it for soldiers to lose their lives there? Wasn’t the price too high for the little that was achieved?

Feelings of guilt? No. Disappointment? Yes. Especially the feeling of having been let down by politicians and society. Responsibility for the mission in Afghanistan was delegated to the German armed forces, without realizing that people would have to pay a high price for that.

But you always need to maintain a certain distance. As a chaplain, I accompany the people on the mission, not the mission itself. I have come to terms with my own time in Afghanistan – for the most part. I have accepted my experiences in Kunduz as part of my life story and hopefully integrated them as best I can. But the “damage” to me remains – probably forever.

Many people who have experienced trauma in the line of duty have not only lost qualities, but also gained new ones

Are you working as a military chaplain again after your last round of therapy?
I am still going through occupational rehabilitation. I have a position in the military deanery in Cologne and work on a project basis. My employer shows understanding for my situation and also draws on my resources to some extent. Many people who have experienced trauma in the line of duty have not only lost qualities, but also gained new ones. It’s a matter of finding the right use for them. And creating space for them. It’s a fact that I’m not as resilient as I used to be.

Some people have difficulty accepting that. Do you know that feeling too?
Many people with deployment-related trauma want to get back into action right away. Me too, despite everything. My job satisfaction has never been higher than it was there, because I was able to do exactly what I became a chaplain for. Thank God I’m not allowed to. But I still have the feeling that I have to prove to myself that I can do it again. Admitting to yourself that you can’t do it anymore is tough.

Are there any other insights you’d like to share?
Everyone is vulnerable, even priests! You can’t pray everything away; it won’t work. Seek help, and do it quickly. And: Don’t hide. You don’t have to come right out with it, but if you’re asked, you should talk about it, at least in a toned-down way. Even if you feel you really just want to retreat into the farthest corner.

Mr. Göllner, thank you very much for the interview.

Questions by Rüdiger Frank.