A Victoria Police Sergeant who has post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) believes mandatory counselling would have prevented him from heading down a dark path of anxiety, explosive anger and an incident of domestic violence.

"The screaming howl, I've heard it every f****ing week in my nightmares," Victoria Police sergeant Rob Atkins says. ( ABC News: Margaret Burin )

During his 21 years in the force, Sergeant Rob Atkins has seen his fair share of trauma.

From the howls of a mother cradling her decapitated boy, to the screams from a fatal car crash, he revisits these scenes every week in his graphic nightmares.

"Black Saturday was the final straw," the 45-year-old said.

The day after the devastating 2009 fires spread across Victoria, killing 173 people, Rob and two other officers were tasked with locating the bodies.

"They teamed me up with an MFB [Metropolitan Fire Brigade] officer, gave us a list of 30 names," he said.

"We would GPS the body, the boundary of the house and the street so that the disaster victim guys could come in at a later stage.

"And then we'd go to the next house, the next house, next house. We did that for 30 houses. In some cases we found multiples, in some cases we found nothing, in some cases we found bodies that were badly deformed and very obviously burnt. In other cases I found little bits of skull and little bits of bone and two steel toes off boots."

Rob Atkins now goes everywhere with his PTSD assistance dog, Jimmy. ( ABC News: Margaret Burin )

It is not the sight of bodies that have plagued his mind ever since, but the stories and suffering behind them.

"Halfway through the day we met up with the CFA [Country Fire Authority] captain... he'd say 'my son plays footy with him', he'd tell us about the premiership they won. He'd say 'who's next?'. And he'd say 'she was a CWA member'," Rob said.

"We did this over and over and over.

"One of the other guys said to me recently 'I still can't be in the house when my wife cooks a roast', and I knew exactly what he meant."

Rob didn't have any counselling following the incident.

He says after the third day, he was given two days leave but decided that he could not go back to the disaster zone and told his employer he was taking six days off that were owed to him.

Unwilling to admit his weakness, he did not tell anyone how he was feeling.

Nor, he says, did anyone from Victoria Police ask if he needed help.

"There was no 'your appointment is' or 'you need to contact welfare' or 'welfare will contact you'," he said.

"There was nothing until I rang welfare four years later."

A photo of Rob Atkins featured in a Victoria Police safety poster. ( ABC News: Margaret Burin )

'That's when I've thought, yeah there's the line'

Four years on, Rob's marriage was on tenterhooks and he had begun to question his ability to judge appropriate use of force at work.

"There is no progressive, if you do this, you'll do that. With the PTSD it's just it's a straight threat to your life — there's nothing in between," he said.

"Your response to a minor situation is totally disproportionate to what you do if you were in control and not mentally ill."

Years of buried trauma led to his anger becoming uncontrollable at home.

Finally, an act of domestic violence towards his son made him realise that he needed help.

"My youngest who would've been five at the time, he wouldn't go to sleep and he was mucking around. I've gone in, grabbed him out of the bed from the front of his pyjamas, lifted him up and said, excuse my language - 'shut the f**k up, you f***ing c***'," he recalls, as his eyes well up with tears.

"Half-an-hour after it, that's when I've thought, yeah there's the line, and that's the first time I'd realised how close I'd been dancing to that line.

"I've gone ... the wheels are falling off, I'm not right, I need help."

The next day Rob contacted the police welfare department and immediately was put in touch with a psychologist.

'It ain't weak to speak': Atkins urges others to speak out early

Earlier this month the Victoria Police Chief Commissioner Graham Ashton ordered a formal mental health review, following the suicide of a policewoman and claims of systemic failures that lead to police staying in the job despite suffering post-traumatic stress disorder.

A Victoria Police spokesperson says the review will also look at support provided to current and former employees and incidents of PTSD.

Rob — a Taser trainer at the police academy — wants to see a culture change that encourages members of the force to speak out sooner rather than later.

"It's something that needs to start at the ground level with the recruits," he said.

"There's always been a perception with Vic Pol that if you come out and say that I need help, that your career's over.

"I'm living proof that it's not.

"It ain't weak to speak. It's actually stronger to sit there and have a plan and say I've got a problem, I'm going to get it fixed and I'm going to get back to it than it is to hide it."

He is also calling for compulsory counselling at least once a year, or following a critical incident.

"In my personal opinion, we need mandatory psychological counselling throughout your career," he said.

The loyal Labrador helping Rob through his PTSD

For the past two years, Rob has been receiving treatment for his PTSD, an illness he says has robbed him of spending time with his wife and kids.

But his new four-legged companion Jimmy is keeping him at work and helping him to live his life again.

The not-for-profit organisation Assistance Dogs Australia trained the golden Labrador to work with people who have PTSD.

Rob Atkins says his assistance dog, Jimmy, helps to calm him when he gets anxious and also forces him to have conversations about his PTSD. ( ABC News: Margaret Burin )

"When I get wound up, there's a few things I do that he picks up on," he said.

"He comes over and looks at me and I tell him I'm alright. If he comes over again and again, I know one of us has a problem. And it's me. So I take my dog out for a walk and we have a wrestle," he said.

When Rob has nightmares or appears to be overwhelmed, the dog nudges his snout into Rob's lap.

If that doesn't appear to work, the boisterous 31 kilogram Labrador will begin licking his handler's face and nipping his ears.

"He knows when I'm wound up, there's no pressing snooze. He's keeping me calmer."

Aside from the obvious benefits to Rob's mental health, the dog is also helping to start conversations with other members of the force who have been suffering in silence.

"There's a PTSD support group here in town that a copper runs," Rob said.

"I've taken two new people to that, and the reason they've come to that is because they've asked about him."

Assistance Dogs Australia CEO Richard Lord says he hopes to see more PTSD dogs operating in the future.