It seems to me that most people fall into one of two categories regarding the coronavirus: those who believe the pandemic desperately requires the most extreme government intervention and those who think overreaction will bring economic catastrophe that’s worse than the disease. This column is the last place you should look for guidance about where to find the truth along that spectrum. I’m just keeping an open mind and a healthy degree of respectful skepticism toward government experts.
After all, government experts ordered all deployed soldiers to ingest mefloquine, a drug used to prevent malaria. Standing orders for soldiers in Afghanistan in 2004 were to take one mefloquine tablet weekly, every “malaria Monday.” A wicker basket of individually wrapped pills sat in the chow hall, and soldiers were expected to self-administer with little supervision.
Robert Herbokowitz, a sergeant in my squad, warned that mefloquine causes terrible psychological side effects.
“They’re the government’s top scientific and medical experts,” I said. (I was very young.) “They wouldn’t order the drug if it wasn’t safe.”
I obeyed orders and took my pills upon arriving in Afghanistan. I had a few crazy dreams and stopped taking the drug when I noticed that nobody was enforcing the medication order and that the Afghan desert had no mosquitos — malarial or otherwise.
Herbokowitz had a much worse experience. He’d wake up, heart pounding, clutching his loaded M16, convinced he was surrounded by people trying to kill him and that he needed to start shooting. Finally, he confronted a medical officer, demanding an alternative anti-malarial drug called doxycycline.
“I don’t care what problems you have. You’re taking mefloquine,” the officer said. But Herbokowitz was adamant. The Army doctor said that since Herbokowitz had reported the psychological challenges, he’d have to subject Herbokowitz to a psych evaluation, an action that would effectively end Herbokowitz’s career.
“No, sir,” said Sergeant Herbokowitz. “You’ll give me the doxycycline. If you report what I said, I’ll just say you lied.”
“My word against yours?” asked the officer. “They’ll believe the officer.”
Herbokowitz asked two of his nearby soldiers, “You guys see me mention any of that psychological stuff to this doctor?”
“No, sergeant,” they said. “You were reporting a headache.”
After a long, silent moment, the officer relented.
Our deployment continued. Nobody took mefloquine on malaria Mondays. The basket of pills was always full and never replenished.
Then one day, in the crowded chow hall, upon hearing an officer mention the pills, Spc. Johnson blurted out that nobody took their malaria pills. A disgusted sigh went up. Everybody knew nobody took the pills, but as long as everybody pretended that people were taking them, officers could pretend to be in compliance with the order, and we all got along fine. Johnson’s blunder meant noncommissioned officers had to watch each soldier take the mefloquine. That lasted about two weeks. Then, we returned to our unspoken agreement, maintaining the fiction that we were all taking the drug.
It turns out it was probably for the best that Herbokowitz and the rest of us skipped the mefloquine. According to the Veterans Affairs’s website, “Recent scientific literature has suggested side effects include mood changes, bad or vivid dreams, agitation, suicidal thoughts, and suicidal behavior.” The VA site also reveals that in 2013, the FDA published a safety alert about mefloquine, warning that possible side effects might include “feeling anxious, mistrustful (paranoia), depressed, or having hallucinations.” For these reasons, in recent years, the drug has fallen out of favor in militaries around the world.
Yet at one time, government medical experts insisted the drug was safe and tried to force deployed soldiers to take it. So much for experts.
I’m not suggesting that you and your friends gather for doorknob-licking parties around town. In fact, I beg you to stay safe. Just be aware that experts aren’t infallible.
We are Americans! We can do anything. Like tough soldiers, we will fight through this situation together. And we will win.
Trent Reedy served as a combat engineer in the Iowa National Guard from 1999 to 2005, including a tour of duty in Afghanistan.
