The Road to Base Camp Alpha
By Matthew Dowling, USMC Retired

I’ve worn many titles—Husband, Father, Marine, Veteran, Survivor, Volunteer and nearly 1 of 22. This project wasn’t born from my business ambition or my need for a retirement hobby. It was born from battle, pain, blood, and many trials and a few tears—first known on foreign soil, then carried within myself for years.

After serving as a Marine and medically retiring in 2015, I returned home with injuries that weren’t all visible. Like too many others, I brought back memories that didn’t fit in civilian life and physical injuries that would plaque me for a lifetime.  Nights that offered no rest, pain that made each morning feel like a question mark, and a sense of purpose drowned in the quiet isolation of post-war life. At first, I told myself I was fine—I’m a Marine. I believed I’d be okay, I could overcome anything. I fought back from injuries and illnesses that nearly took my life, I could do anything, right?  But one day, I heard another veteran share his struggles, and it felt like he was telling my story. Afterward, we talked. He saw through the mask I was wearing and offered me help through a nonprofit organization he knew of for vets. I didn’t realize it then, but I was facing what so many of us do: PTSD. And that sh!% comes with a darkness, the kind that doesn’t just steal joy, but questions your right to even look for it. I fought every day.  Some days I could almost be my old self and other days I couldn't even get off the couch.  I'd lose days and precious moments with my family, stuck in sadness, enveloped by pain.  On my best days I could fake it well enough to make my friends smile and my family not worry as much.  But in the back of my mind always wondering if…….  I felt like a burden to my friends and family and felt abandoned by our country.

But I didn’t want to be another number in the staggering veteran suicide statistics. I fought back. I took a chance on myself and attending a project aimed at helping veterans heal from PTSD and complex PTSD.  And it was there I found my first dose of relief in what felt like a lifetime of pain.  After that, I knew I had to give back this gift that was given to me, so, I gave my time, my heart, and my hands to organizations trying to do good—raising awareness for PTSD like the "Patriot Shoot" put on by the Central Ohio American Charities, performing volunteer work as an Eagala (equine therapy) at PB&J farms in Pataskala, Ohio, hosting veteran and first responders for annual deer and turkey hunts, campouts, and workshops at Black Feather Farm. I spent years helping others find their light and regain a sense of purpose, even as I struggled to hold onto my own.  But in my weakness his strength was made perfect.

The idea for Base Camp Alpha came to me, not as a dream, but as a mission driven by Gods purpose for my life.  I realized that healing isn’t always found in a hospital room and almost never in a prescription bottle. It’s found amongst your brothers and sisters, who understand.  Its in the woods, reconnecting with nature. In laughter around a campfire. It’s found in shared stories of strife and healing between warriors who’ve all come home and had to rebuild a life after service from the pieces that remained.

Base Camp Alpha is my answer to a question I’ve asked for years: “How can I  truly help veterans and first responders find a measure peace, connection and most importantly, not become 1 of 22?” It’s a place where men and women like me can reconnect with themselves, with each other, and with the land. It can be a sanctuary, built not just with wood and stone, but with love, purpose and perseverance.

Every trail cleared, every cabin built, every dollar raised—this isn’t just a charity. It’s a chance. It’s hope. It just may be the start of someone else’s survival story.

I often think back to something the veteran who told my story once shared. I don’t know if he realized how much it would come to mean to me—especially during the hardest days of building Base Camp Alpha—but it felt like a message from God, a reason to keep going. He quoted Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., in his own way:

“If you can’t fly, then run. If you can’t run, then walk. If you can’t walk, then crawl. But whatever you do, you have to keep moving.”
—Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., as interpreted by A.C.

That quote has stayed with me, a quiet reminder that forward is forward, no matter the pace.