Some Families Deal With War, Autism

Tank company commander Andy Hilmes knows about loss. The hero bracelet on his wrist bears the name Steve Booker, a buddy who did not survive the Army's 3rd Infantry division's "Thunder run" through Baghdad.

"He was protecting his crew he was protecting his platoon and that's how he died," says Andy

Back home Andy Hilmes would suffer yet another loss, one even closer to his heart.

"I saw who my son was going to become and then just like that somebody switched a light switch and Drew began to regress, he started to lose his speech."

The diagnosis was autism.

"It took us about three days of crying and praying and crying before I could even start researching answers," recalls Nikki Hilmes, Andy's wife.

A new, very personal war had begun, a difficult battle that Nikki Hilmes, wife of a deeply committed American soldier, would be forced by the nation's defense to fight alone.

"I left six months after that for my second deployment to Iraq. She bears Drew's autism more or less on her own," says Andy

As her husband commanded American battle tanks, Nikki Hilmes quickly learned the weapon needed to fight her son's autism was intense early intervention, in Drew's case, a one on one, research proven therapy, known as applied behavior analysis.

She also learned that when thousands of military families asked the armed forces health insurer Tricare to pay for the expensive treatment, they were either told "no" or awarded only a fraction of the necessary cost.

That's left the nation's warriors two choices, bankrupt their families paying out of pocket or make their disabled children do without.

"For a lot of soldiers, it's not an option. They don't have the money to do it," says Nikki.

"This is a medical necessity that these children receive these services," says Nancy Champlin, a board certified specialist in ABA.

Until Nancy Champlin opened this clinic a year ago on the edge of Ft. Hood, there was no ABA therapy even available to the children living on or near the nation's largest military base.

Improvement among the 30 kids served has been steady, but limited.
Champlin says that's because the cap on benefits gives most only a third of the therapy they need.

"Here we are making gains with the child and we have to stop. Woops, you are out of funds for the month. That's not fair, that's not appropriate," says Champlin.

"If you want our soldiers to have peace of mind and go over and complete their mission and possibly lay down their lives then we have got to take care of the families back home," insists Nikki Hilmes.

One out of every 150 American children suffers from some form of autism. In the armed forces, it's 1 out of 88 kids. Soon to be released figures will likely reveal the actual military numbers are alarmingly worse.

The disproportionate numbers represent a troubling mystery to those whose service to the country demanded toxic exposure.

"We were firing depleted uranium rounds, tank killing rounds at Iraqi tanks and armored vehicles," says Andy Hilmes.

Another area of deep concern is the multiple pre-invasion inoculations.

"We received inoculation for small pox. We received a series of anthrax boosters, all in a short time span," he adds.

Army doctors have assured Helms his concerns are unwarranted and his wife remains unconvinced.

"We probably should have waited to have Drew. Andy still had allot of stuff in his system and we don't know what he was exposed to as far as the chemical agents over there and the inoculations."

It is a scenario full of menacing unknowns. The only certainty is that Major Andy Hilmes will be engaged in battle.

"I want to get that little boy back that i started to see. Until that happens we will never stop fighting."

For now, Major Andy Hilmes is headed back to Iraq to gladly serve a country, that many believe could do far better for his son.