Twenty years on from the first Gulf War, veterans whose health was wrecked by the conflict claim they have been abandoned by the Government. Stuart Arnold reports.

AT the age of 40, Steve says his life is already over. The father-of-one, who lives in Hartlepool, survives day-to-day by taking painkillers and anti-depressants.

He hasn’t worked for eight years and is on benefits. Sometimes he is so tired, he can barely clean his flat and he struggles to get out of the bath because of problems with his joints.

Steve, who doesn’t want to give his surname, joined the Army straight from school, aged 17, and was a fuel tanker driver during the first Gulf War, which began on January 16, 1991, following Iraq’s occupation of Kuwait.

According to support group the National Gulf Veterans and Families Association (NGVFA) Steve is among 9,700 veterans of the conflict who continue to suffer a range of health problems, such as headaches, cognitive difficulties, depression, unexplained fatigue, rashes and breathing problems, known broadly as Gulf War Syndrome.

Debate about whether the syndrome actually exists has raged for years and the Ministry of Defence (MoD) refuses to see it as a recognised medical condition.

Try telling that to Steve.

I’m sitting in his one-bedroomed flat looking at photos from his service in the war. There’s one of him sitting on a huge tank gun, another posing in front of his makeshift shelter.

He shows me an information sheet prepared by the NGVFA about Gulf War Syndrome, which describes a number of symptoms. Of these, he’s highlighted more than two thirds he believes he suffers from.

“The Ministry of Defence just doesn’t admit it. No one can diagnose this, because it doesn’t exist. I want it recognised so I can get help and get treated properly,” he says. “The MoD has a medical assessment programme in London and what they do is basically pat you on the head and say, ‘It’s all in your head son’.”

In the Gulf, Steve recalls being given nerve agent pre-treatment tablets and injections, some of which he claims were not tested on humans.

“We were told the Iraqis had chemical weapons, but it was all a bit of a rush. It was not researched properly; we were like guinea pigs. We had bromide put in our tea and had loads of injections. I was like a pin cushion.

“We thought the MoD knew what they were doing. We had to trust them and thought what we were being given was to protect us.”

Steve believes the burning of oil wells by the retreating Iraqi forces may have been a contributing factor to his condition. “They set fire to them as they were running. You were coughing, spluttering and you could not wear a gas mask permanently as it was so hot,” he says.

Reflecting on the Gulf, Steve says he still feels a sense of pride about having served his country and has no regrets. “You join the Army to do these things. You join for the action,”

he says.

But the experience does haunt him. “We weren’t shooting at people, but we were just behind the forward lines and, as they were progressing, we were in the aftermath and saw all the bodies that were blown to pieces and the smashed vehicles. It was a horrendous sight.”

On his return to the UK, he began work as a security guard and also took jobs with a removal firm and at a galvanising plant. However, it’s now eight years since he last worked.

He’s been on the sick since his last employer went bust.

In the intervening years, Steve has had to give up a three-bedroom detached house and his relationship with his partner has ended.

“I was aching, feeling like c**p. I’d go through dizzy spells and had to stop and sit down,” he says. “I remember getting out of the car once and thought I was literally going to drop down and die.”

At first, he blamed the tiredness on working nights. “I was pretty fit at that time and just put all of this down to the jobs I was doing. I’d go to the doctors and they’d say stress was the cause, or anxiety, or depression. No one knew what it was, but I just felt awful all the time.”

STEVE, who has a dry sense of humour and attempts to remain philosophical about his situation, says he does not believe he will ever return to work.

“My get up and go got up and went,” he says.

“Sometimes I can’t even push the vacuum about. I can hardly push myself up out of the bath and dry myself. My joints have gone. I get burning in the back of my legs like someone putting a cigarette lighter there; same for my arms.

“I get stuck in the house for days at a time. I get panic attacks and sometimes I can’t go out.

If I do go to the supermarket, I only feel safe when I am back in the car.”

In March, Steve is due to see a specialist at The James Cook University Hospital, in Middlesbrough, to discuss his chronic fatigue, but he’s pessimistic about the future. “It’s only a matter of time before I get a stairlift and a wheelchair,” he says. “I feel embarrassed because I cannot work. I cannot support my child.”

The MoD says it “greatly recognises” the service of all first Gulf War veterans. A spokesman says: “We have long accepted that some veterans are ill and that some of this ill health may be related to their Gulf service.

However a substantial amount of research undertaken by the UK and the US has indicated there is no illness specific to Gulf veterans.”

Steve’s experiences lead him to think otherwise.

“It’s bleak,” he says. “At 40, your life is over.”