March 06, 2007

Hundreds of OEF/OIF Vets Homeless, Numbers Rising

From the Washington Post:


The number of homeless veterans from recent wars is hard to gauge. From 2004 to 2006,
the Department of Veterans Affairs provided shelter to 300 veterans of Iraq and
Afghanistan tours, out of the tens of thousands who have served.

That figure "is not even close to accurate,"
said Paul Rieckhoff, executive director of the Iraq
and Afghanistan Veterans of America, because it doesn't include the "others sleeping in buses,
their cars or on the streets." In New York City alone, he said his organization has helped 60
homeless veterans since 2004.

Indeed, Newsweek reported earlier this month that the estimated OEF/OIF homeless veteran figure
is closer to 500-1,000.

Continuing:

A recent study found that those who have served multiple tours are 50 percent more likely to suffer
from acute combat stress. ... Veterans' homeless shelters across the country, such as the Maryland
Center for Veterans Education and Training in Baltimore, are bracing for increased demand. "The
wave has not hit yet, but it will," said retired Army Col. Charles Williams, MCVET's executive
director.

Nearby, the South Baltimore Station shelter is doubling the size of its program in anticipation of the
Iraq war vets it expects to serve, said Woody Curry, the center's program director. He thinks it will
be several years before they start showing up in large numbers. "Usually it takes a period of time
before it surfaces -- the PTSD," he said. "And the military mentality leads you to try to tough it out
and not say anything." ...

Meanwhile, a report by the Democratic staff of the House Veterans Affairs Committee found that
from October 2005 to June 2006, the number of Iraq and Afghanistan veterans seeking services
from walk-in veterans centers doubled, from 4,467 to 9,103.

"It's clear from the report that Vet Center capacity has not kept pace with demand for services, and
the administration has failed to properly plan and prepare for the mental health needs of returning
veterans and their families," U.S. Rep. Michael H. Michaud (D-Maine), a member of the committee,
said in a statement.

Please read the full piece to hear of one vet's struggle with PTSD and homelessness. And check
the homeless veteran 'Stand Down' days schedule to either contribute or volunteer at an event near
you, or to seek help yourself if you are a veteran currently in need of a safe place to get some help
and assistance.
Hundreds of OEF/OIF Vets Homeless
Numbers Rising
(article from the Washington Post, scroll at the end of this page)
700,000 Homeless Veterans (Read the article below)
300, 000 back From War with TBI

THE WAR COMES HOME
Iraq war veterans feel they are
being cast aside. Three vets explain in their own words.












Michael                  Rocky                   Sue  



by Emily DePrang
Statistics are one way to tell the story of the approximately 1.4 million servicemen and women who’ve been to Iraq and
Afghanistan. According to a study published in the New England Journal of Medicine in 2004, 86 percent of soldiers in Iraq
reported knowing someone who was seriously injured or killed there. Some 77 percent reported shooting at the enemy; 75
percent reported seeing women or children in imminent peril and being unable to help. Fifty-one percent reported handling or
uncovering human remains; 28 percent were responsible for the death of a noncombatant. One in five Iraq veterans returns
home seriously impaired by post-traumatic stress disorder.

Words are another way. Below are the stories of three veterans of this war, told in their voices, edited for flow and efficiency but
otherwise unchanged. They bear out the statistics and suggest that even those who are not diagnosably impaired return
burdened by experiences they can neither forget nor integrate into their postwar lives. They speak of the inadequacy of what
the military calls reintegration counseling, of the immediacy of their worst memories, of their helplessness in battle, of the
struggle to rejoin a society that seems unwilling or unable to comprehend the price of their service. Strangers to one another
and to me, they nevertheless tried, sometimes through tears, to communicate what the intensity of an ambiguous war has
done to them. One veteran, Sue Randolph, put it this way: “People walk up to me and say, ‘Thank you for your service.’ And I
know they mean well, but I want to ask, ‘Do you know what you’re thanking me for?’” She, Rocky, and Michael Goss offer their
stories here in the hope that citizens will begin to know.

Michael Goss
Michael Goss, 29, served two tours in Iraq. He grew up in Corpus Christi and returned there after his other-than-honorable
discharge. He lives with his brother. He is divorced and sees his children every other weekend while working the graveyard
shift as a bail bondsman. He is quietly intelligent, thoughtful, and attentive, always saying ma’am and holding the door. He
struggles with severe PTSD and is obsessed with learning about the insurgency by studying reports and videos online. He is
awaiting treatment from the Veterans Administration. He has been waiting for over a year.

I gave the Army seven years. It was supposed to be my career. I did two tours in Iraq, in 2003 and 2005. But during the last
one, I started to get depressed. I lost faith in my chain of command. I became known as a rogue NCO. That’s how I got my
other-than-honorable discharge.

One night they said to me, “Sgt. Goss, gather your best guys.” I say, “Where we going?” They say, “Don’t worry about it, just
come on.” So we get in the car and go. We drive three blocks away, and there’s six dead soldiers on the ground. They say,
“You’re casualty collecting tonight.” I’m not prepared for that. I wasn’t taught how to do that. But you’re there. So you pick them
up, and you put them in a body bag, pieces by pieces, and you go back to your unit, and you stand inside your room. And they’
re like, “You’re going on a patrol, come on.” You’re like, “Hang on a minute. Let me think about what I just did here.” I just put
six American guys in damn body bags. Nobody’s prepared for that. Nobody’s prepared for that thing to blow up on the side of
the road. You’re talking, and you’re driving, and then something blows up, and the next thing you know, two of your guys are
missing their faces. They just want you to get up the next day and go, go, let’s do it again, you’re a soldier. Yeah, I got the
soldier part, OK?

It gets to the point where they numb you. They numb you to death. They numb you to anything. You come back, and it starts
coming back to you slowly. Now you gotta figure out a way to deal with it. In Iraq you had a way to deal with it because they kept
pushing you back out there. Keep pushing you back out into the streets. Go go go. Hey, I just shot four people today. Yeah, and
in about four hours you’re going to go back out, and you’ll probably shoot six more. So let’s go. Just deal with it. We’ll fix it
when we get back. That’s basically what they’re telling you. We’ll fix it all when we get back. We’ll get your head right and
everything when we get back to the States. I’m sorry, it’s not like that. It’s not supposed to be like that. All the soldiers have
post-traumatic stress disorder, and they’re like, “Hey, you’re good. You went to counseling four times, you can go back to Iraq.
It’s OK.” No. It doesn’t work that way.

I have PTSD. I know when I got it—the night I killed an 8-year-old girl. Her family was trying to cross a checkpoint. We’d just
shot three guys who’d tried to run a checkpoint. And during that mess, they were just trying to get through to get away from it
all. And we ended up shooting all them, too. It was a family of six. The only one that survived was a 13-month-old and her
mother. And the worst part about it all was that where I shot my bullets, when I went to see what I’d shot at, there was an 8-
year-old girl there. I tried my best to bring her back to life, but there was no use. But that’s what triggered my depression.

When I got out of the Army, I had 10 days to get off base. There was no reintegration counseling. As soon as I got back, nobody
gave a fuck about anything except that piece of paper that said I got everything out of my room. I got out of the Army, and
everything went to shit from there.

My wife ended up finding another guy. I’m getting divorced, and I’m fighting for custody. She wants child support, the house,
the car, the boys.

I get three nights off a week. And I drink and take pills to help me sleep at night. I do what I can to help myself. I talk to friends.
Soldiers who were there. Once in a while one of my old soldiers will call me, drunk off his ass, crying about the stuff he saw in
Iraq. And all I can do is tell him, “You and me both are going to have to find a way to work this out.” That’s the only thing I can
tell him.

I do martial arts, that’s what I do. I go in a cage and I fight. It helps take my mind off of things. I get hurt, but I can’t feel it. I don’t
feel it until after it’s all over with.

So let’s put this in perspective now. I got two Iraq tours, multiple kills, I picked up plenty of dead bodies, American bodies,
enemy bodies. I killed an 8-year-old girl, which still haunts me to this day. I come back home. My wife finds somebody else. I’
m sleeping on my brother’s couch while she has the apartment, the kids, the car, everything that we worked on together. I work
as a bail bondsman making $432 a week, which all goes to my brother. I have to fight just to see my boys because she’s at
the point where she thinks I don’t deserve to see my kids because I haven’t had help for my PTSD. She’s scared I might do
something stupid. And the VA won’t help me out because of my other-than-honorable discharge. What else do you want to
know?

Every month the VA sends me a letter saying I’m still under review. I’m like, I couldn’t care less about the money. I don’t care
about disability percentage. I want you to tell me to go to this fucking doctor here and go get help. That’s what I want them to
tell me. If they think I don’t deserve money because I got kicked out with other-than-honorable discharge, fine. But don’t tell me
I’m cured all of a sudden, because I’m not. I still have my nightmares, anxiety attacks, panic attacks, I still see the glitter from
the IED blowing up when I’m going down the street. I still see the barrette in her hair when I carried her out of the car to the
ambulance when she was bleeding all over me. I still see all that. And there’s nothing that I can do about that now.

Rocky
Rocky, 26, prefers to remain anonymous. He joined the Army shortly before the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, and went to Iraq in
2004 for one year and a day. A Houston native, he lives alone now in a Dallas apartment, goes to community college, and
works construction. He’s funny, playful, and handsome, and carries a pool cue in his trunk to be ready for a game at any time.
He doesn’t tell people he’s a veteran. He doesn’t like to talk about it. This story is an exception.

I was one of those kids that could have been handed anything on a silver platter. But I really worked hard for everything anyway,
because I wanted to prove myself. And my parents, who would have given me anything, ruled with an iron fist. And I was
patriotic. So it seemed like everything in my life pointed to the Army as the way to go.

I was 20. I’m sure I was different then. I don’t know how. I know how I am now. I assume that the character traits that I show
now are the core set of values that I left with. My sense of pride, hard work. Everything I have, I made out of nothing.

You get to see what people are made of over there. You get to see how shallow people are, how weak they are. How strong
they can be in horrible moments. And then how the people you should be looking up to are hiding, and you have to look out for
them. You get to really see what a person is made of.

And over there, I learned to read people. I know what they’re going to do before they do it. After seeing the same movements
before you get shot at or bombed, the same symptoms of the city and the people around you—it’s a fluid movement. Doors
close, people disappear, and all of a sudden you’re like, OK guys, hunker down, it’s about to hit us. And all of a sudden you’re
under fire.

People would pop shots at us and pop back. They’d have a setup where they have a bomb in the road, and everybody sits by
the windows when they set off an IED. When we’re looking at what’s going on, everybody’s laughing and pointing and smiling
after your buddy’s sitting there bleeding. So I held them all responsible. Everybody that was in the guilty range.

If there was gunfire coming from a window, I shot into that window and made sure nothing was coming back out at me. One
time, there was an RPG shooter shooting at me. He hit a Bradley in front of us, and we were in a Humvee. He hit the Bradley in
front of us, and the round didn’t go off. It got stuck in the mud. So the Bradley rolled back, and we rolled back. And I had to
shoot the position-caller before I could shoot the actual shooter. He didn’t have a gun, but I knew what he was doing. He was
the one calling out what’s going on. He was on the phone. So I sent a shot up 20 feet above him and below him and to the
side of him. And he just stood there. On his phone, talking the whole time. Innocent people run. The bad guys stay and fight. If
they’re not running, they’re going to be calling. That’s the way I see it. So I shot him. If you freaked out and stood still, I’m sorry.
I cannot take this chance again. You have to start making these moral decisions. Better to be judged by 12 than carried by six.
You’re caught in the fucking middle of it.

After that, now I think, well, now I’m damned. Now I’ve done the worst thing. There’s not much more worse you can do than
shoot an unarmed person. It’s not just, man, now I got to fucking deal with this. It’s like, man, I hope nobody saw that because
I’ll go to jail, too. You feel so horrible. You kind of die inside. There’s really nothing beneath me now. I’m at the bottom of the
barrel. You’re worried about salvation and people finding out these dirty little secrets. It’s not something that you wanted to do.
It might be something that you had to do, that you accidentally did. Things happen. And then there’s the whole fear of going to
jail for trying to do what’s right for your country—it’s bad. Sometimes you think people are shooting at you, and you’d rather just
chance it because you’re hoping they don’t have an armor-piercing round.

But I’m not going to bow down. I know what I’m made of—do you? Most people have no idea what matters. When I’m standing
at the gates and I see St. Peter, I’ll say, lemme in. I try to do right now. I don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings. I go to school,
maybe I’ll earn a midlevel job. Just fly under the radar. I don’t want any attention. I just want to be away from people. Not many
people call me still. I keep it real dim in my apartment. I like it calm and quiet. This is what life’s made of. Being able to relax
and be safe. Watch a movie, play some video games. Just to sit back and have fun with your friends. That’s beautiful.

Sue Randolph

Sue Randolph, 39, grew up in Saudi Arabia and earned her master’s degree in Arabic at the University of Michigan. After her
service in 2003, she moved to Houston with her husband, a geologist. She now works in satellite communications and raises
her 3-year-old daughter, a self-identified “princess,” and a 2-month-old kitten named Sparkles. Randolph’s family goes
kayaking and hiking on weekends. She is clever, quick-witted, passionate, and kind. She still struggles with anxiety while
driving and when she’s near crowds. She finds news about the war upsetting and frustratingly inaccurate.


I joined the Army because I had $65,000 in student loans and didn’t know how I was going to make payments. Since I had a
master’s in political science—Middle East studies and Arabic—I ended up doing translation as part of the search for weapons
of mass destruction. For a year, my team drove around behind the 3rd Infantry getting shot at, getting mortared, looking at
warehouses of documents, chemicals, and parts of things that could be WMDs. I mean, you name it, we did it. We talked to
people. We went into people’s houses.

The technological level of the things I saw wasn’t anywhere near anything [former Secretary of State] Colin Powell talked
about. The buildings we went into, wiring was on the outside of the walls. I didn’t see anything like the equipment you’d see in
a fifth-grade science lab. The most technically advanced thing we saw was a 12-volt car battery hooked up to bedsprings for
torture. But not anything on the chemical or biological level.

Iraq looks like it’s straight out of the Bible. It’s mud brick, it’s falling down.It’s kids with sticks herding goats. There’s like three
high-rises in all of Baghdad, and those are the only ones you’ll ever see on any newscast. The rest of it is mud brick, falling
down.

At the time, I would see little girls on the side of the road, and I felt like I was part of a big machine that was going to help them
have a better life. At the time. Now, looking at all of the lack of evidence for us being there except GW throwing a temper
tantrum, frankly I feel—not used, because I signed up for it—but I feel like we were there for no good reason. Eventually
Saddam would have been overthrown, either by his own people or through Iran or someone else, and change would have
come. It wouldn’t have been on our timetable, but it would have happened. I don’t think it was worthwhile at all.

When I went back to my base in Germany, it was like a bad dream. It was like nothing happened. Then I got out of the Army
and came back to the States. Once you leave the Army, there’s no reintegration help of any kind. Unless you went looking for it,
there was nothing. And even if you went looking for it, you had to dig.

The military says that they’re giving exit counseling and reintegration. What they’re calling re-entry counseling, in my
experience, was, “Don’t drink and drive. Pay your bills on time. Don’t beat your spouse. Don’t kick your dog.” All of these things
that once you’ve reached a certain age, you’re supposed to know. None of it is, “If you have discomfort with dealing with
crowds, if you don’t feel comfortable with your spouse, if you can’t sleep in a bed, if you don’t want to drive down the road
because you think everything is a bomb, here’s what to do.” No psychological or de-stress counseling is involved in this
reintegration to garrison. And that’s just if you’re staying in the Army. If you’re leaving the Army, you get, “Here’s how to write a
resume.”

They don’t prepare you to leave. Hell, they didn’t prepare me to be there. I was going into people’s houses trying to tell the wife
and kids as we’re segregating them out from the men that we’re the good guys. But they’re crying because one of their kids
got killed because he was up there sleeping on the roof when we decided to bust into their house. I mean that’s crazy. But we’
re the good guys. Now I have to deal with that for the next 20 or 30 years. I have a 3-year-old. I deal with that every day.

I think we are going to end up like after Vietnam if we’re not careful. The Vietnam guys were treated really horribly, and whether
they came back and quietly went back to their lives or not, they were all stereotyped in a criminal negative. And I’m afraid if we
as a society don’t learn what we didn’t do for those guys, we’re going to have that in spades. We don’t have low-end kind of
industry jobs for them like working in the auto plant, so they’re not going to be supporting their families. And they’re going to be
angry. They’re going to feel like they’re owed. Do we get everybody counseling as soon as they get out, mandatory 90-day
counseling? I don’t know how. But there isn’t enough money in this country right now to make some of these guys feel like
what they went through was worthwhile.

We have no comprehension of the psychological cost of this war. I know kids in Iraq who killed themselves. I know kids that
got killed. OK, that’s apparently the price of doing business. But multiply me by 2 million. If I’m fairly high-functioning, what
about the ones that aren’t? They’re going back to small-town America, and their families aren’t going to know what to do with
them. It’s like, what do we do with Johnny now?


Emily DePrang is a writer from Pearland.
Watch the Video
©
2007-2008,
Nadia
McCaffrey,
the Patrick
McCaffrey
Foundation
&  the
Veteran's
Village, all
rights
reserved ©
Formed in
2006, the
organization
is a peace
based
organization
for
members of
the military
who have
served in
the war, we
are focusing
on the Iraq
&
Afghanistan
conflicts,
however,
this
foundation
is to help all
war
veterans .
We believe
the best way
to support
our troops
is to bring
them home
now and
take care of
them when
they get
here.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
700,000 Homeless Veterans
STRIPES: Helping vets resume civilian lives

March 23, 2008
By Rena Fulka, Staff writer
Former airman Michael White considers himself a success story.

"I was in the Air Force for almost 21 years, and when I retired, I couldn't find a job," said White, who spent most of his military
career stationed in Europe.

"I felt disassociated from civilian life, and I had trouble fitting in. I was depressed, and I wanted to talk, but I had no network.
After 20 years, when you have to put the Mr. back in your name, it's not as easy as you thought it would be."

With help from the Rev. Al Garcia at New Life Oak Forest Church, White made a successful transition back to private citizen.

"Al kept me uplifted, got me through the hard times, and I got a job," said the medical administrator from Oak Forest.

Now, White wants to do the same for other returning soldiers through STRIPES, a community forum designed to help
able-bodied veterans acclimate to civilian life.

"An able-bodied vet can be just as disabled as anyone who got shot, but he hides it better. He looks fine and smiles, but he's a
mess," White said.

National statistics show 700,000 veterans are homeless, unemployed or a combination of both, White said.

"And the homeless ratio is growing and being filled with vets coming out of the service."

White and the Rev. Rob Schoon, of Orland Park, are laying the groundwork for the new Oak Forest ministry, which is an
acronym for "Surviving trauma, receiving inner peace, enjoying salvation."

Schoon is a Marine veteran who now serves as a chaplain with the Marine Corps League. He visits veterans organizations and
hospitals on a regular basis.

"Veterans are people who had such productive lives before the service," Schoon said. "They served their country honorably and
did what they were supposed to do. Now, they're back, they're hurting, and someone has to help them. And most people in the
civilian world don't understand the problem these guys and girls are having."

go here for the rest
http://www.southtownstar.com/lifestyles/852080,032308VETSTRIPES.article

When we get figures from the government, we need to think twice if we believe them or not. 700,000 comes from a more
realistic rate because some veterans are homeless at some point during the year. This is not a new trend but it is a higher
one. There are chronically homeless veterans who never find a place to live and there are some who find a place with family or
friends. Their luck usually runs out if they happen to have other issues like PTSD and are not getting help. While the
government would want us to believe they have suddenly reduced the number of homeless veterans below 200,000, we still
have not seen the data on where the other homeless veterans went to.
Dear Friends and Colleagues:

MSC's Vice President, Pamela Stokes-Eggleston, and I spent two days on Capital Hill meeting
congressional staff to promote DoD regulatory changes re post-deployment misconduct
discharges.  MSC has developed a Post-Deployment Mental Health Assessment and
Reintegration proposal for service members returning from combat tours.  We are losing too
many service members and veterans to suicide.  We believe that effective intervention before
the service member separates from the military may help reduce the incidents of self-inflicted
harm (such as attempted and actual suicide).

We also believe that if this proposal is drafted correctly and implemented, it may prevent some
of these Personality Disorder Discharges.

Moreover, Congress needs to realize that with untreated PTSD, Americans pay for it one way or
another, sooner or later.  We can either pay for it in a larger DoD budget now (for mental health
care and immediate crisis intervention and treatment) or we can pay for it later at the state level
and federal level as our at-risk veterans deteriorate and fail to successfully reintegrate into
peacetime society (thus placing increasing demands on our emergency services, social
services, police services, etc.).

I would also like to emphasize that we (Military Spouses for Change) realize that our service
members volunteered to join the military.  However, the fact that they volunteered does not
absolve our country from its role in, and responsibility for, the mental and physical traumas that
are inflicted upon them as a result of their service.  In fact, as we face a crisis in maintaining this
all volunteer force, it is critical that we now, more than ever, exhibit not only the ability, but the
WILLINGNESS, to effectively identify and MEANINGFULLY treat those traumas.

I am pleased to report a few Senators were actually receptive to our ideas.  I am in the process of
writing up a white paper and sample Dear Colleague letter.

I am contacting you for one or more of the following reasons:

1)  I found a statistic showing 5,500 soldiers were discharged in the past 4 years for misconduct;
however, I believe that number is too low/small.  Do any of you have any other figure or an idea
outside of a FOIA request (time consuming) about finding our how many their have been?  Do
you know someone that could potentially help us get this figure?

2)  For those of you with an advocacy organization, would you be interested in learning more
about our proposal and/or possibly being apart of submitting it to members of Congress?  

3)  Is there a contact with another organization that you think I should be reaching out to?

If you are interested or can direct me to a better number, please call or email me as soon as you
can.

Take care,
Carissa
Carissa Picard, Esq
President
Military Spouses for Change
406.498.2134 (c)
Involve. Inform. Inspire.

www.militaryspousesforchange.com
www.milspousepress.com
Must Read: bottom page Article by Carissa Picard
www.milspousepress.com, www.militaryspousesforachange.com