Vetaid National is a 501 (c) (3) corp.
Copyright 2008 VetAid National
Website Design By Bill Scheetz
Website Design By Bill Scheetz
Thank,s to C.W. Nevius of the San Francisco Chronicle
for allowing us to reprint this article.
Last May, Tim Chapman was sitting in his car on the edge of a cliff, weeping. If he took his foot off the
brake, he would go over the edge - to silence, to peace, and to death.
"It was a truck stop in Truckee," Chapman said. "I was driving to Reno. I was literally going to kill myself. I
kept thinking: I should have stayed in Iraq. I should have died over there."
The 23-year-old National Guardsman, just six months back from a tour in the combat zone, sat on the
brink for two hours. Even today, he isn't sure why he didn't launch himself over the side.
Instead, he backed off the cliff and drove himself to a hospital in Roseville. Within three days, he was in
the psych ward at a Veterans Affairs hospital. Today, after extensive therapy, he thinks his life is
beginning to make sense again.
It's a wrenching story. But this isn't the end of it. It is just the beginning.
First a few facts. Bobby Rosenthal, regional manager for homeless programs at the Department of
Veterans Affairs, estimates that one third of the more than 6,000 homeless people - about 2,100 - in San
Francisco are veterans.
And no wonder the number is so high. California leads the nation in homeless veterans by a mile,
according to the National Coalition for Homeless Veterans. The 2006 numbers showed 49,724 homeless
vets in California. The next nearest state was New York with 21,147.
Now here's the scary part. Compared with what's coming, that's nothing.
Roughly 750,000 troops served in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, often with multiple tours of duty.
Many are only now returning home. But unlike Vietnam veterans, who didn't begin to demonstrate
post-war trauma until five or 10 years after they left the war, this group seems to be on a fast track.
"Everything is speeded up," said Michael Blecker, executive director of San Francisco's Swords to
Ploughshares program. "What we're seeing in San Francisco is guys in their 20s with the kind of stress
and trauma that makes it impossible to go on with their lives."
It's been called a health care tsunami. Because not only are the Iraq vets prone to post-traumatic stress
disorder (something Chapman has battled) but with improved battlefield health care, far more are
surviving traumatic injury. On one hand, that's good news, but it also means many more vets who are
severely disabled, having lost arms and legs. Both factors increase the chances that the returning troops
will join the sad ranks of homeless veterans.
Cities all over the country are bracing themselves, although some, like San Francisco, are bound to be hit
harder. Mayor Gavin Newsom says that at a recent conference of mayors, the group passed a resolution
asking the VA "to tell us what you are going to do."
"It's great lip service," Newsom said, "but show me the money."
If history holds, the mayors shouldn't hold their breath. If anything, benefits for veterans have been
restricted. To take one example, many of us think of the World War II G.I. Bill as a shining example of a
reward for service, paying for college for vets. But Blecker, of Swords for Ploughshares, says the current
version "is in no way, shape, or form near enough" to pay for a degree.
As Newsom says, "Yeah, support the troops - as long as they are young, healthy and a great photo op."
For San Francisco, the potential impact could be huge. An influx of traumatized, battle-scarred veterans
presents a scary future. Consider the case of Scott Kehler, a veteran of the first Gulf War, who needed
years to work through his demons. He recalls passing burned bodies and the constant fear that an
explosion would suddenly erupt in the street.
"It was the things I didn't want to see at night when I closed my eyes," Kehler said. "I didn't know what
PTSD was. I only knew my dreams, my shame, my guilt, was all coming together."
Kehler spent almost 16 years kicking around the country. He lived in shelters in San Francisco and ate in
free kitchens until a friend suggested he get in contact with Ploughshares. He checked into the group's
transitional housing, a 60-person unit on Treasure Island, and began to find himself.
Today he has been hired by the organization as a residence manager. He's lived there 18 months, which
doesn't sound like much until you hear him say, "This is the longest I have lived in one place since 1990."
Kehler, who is mentoring Chapman, is testimony to the effectiveness of the Ploughshares slogan -
"veterans helping veterans."
"Especially now that we've got our veterans coming home from Iraq," said Ploughshares counselor
Tyrone Boyd, "we're going to need people that have been in combat so they know what they are talking
about."
The challenges are unique. Wanda Heffernon, a program and clinical counselor for Ploughshares, said
they had a new inductee who slept in the closet. It was the only place he felt safe.
It's the sudden transition that gets them.
"One day they are fighting in a war," said Kehler. "The next day they are sitting at their mother's kitchen
table."
Is it any wonder they end up on the street? Kehler battled alcohol abuse, but Chapman is part of the new
breed, who turn to methamphetamine. Married when he returned, he lost his wife and all contact with his
parents. Eventually he ended up sleeping in an alley. Now drug-free, living at Treasure Island housing,
holding down a full-time job, and reconnected with his mother, he is testimony to the idea that peer
counseling seems to work. Ploughshares has earned support from Sens. Dianne Feinstein and Barbara
Boxer and House Speaker Nancy Pelosi.
Imagine the impact it would have on the San Francisco homeless problem if one third of those on street
were able to get help and housing. But what the vets don't have is funding.
"Why isn't the federal government doing something about this? Why isn't the Veterans Administration
doing something?" Blecker asks. "The irresponsibility of our leaders, not to address this, makes me want
to tear my hair out." The VA's Rosenthal - who gets high marks from local leaders - says the problem is
not being ignored. "It's a whole new set of challenges," she said. "The VA is looking at it. Let's hope we've
learned our lesson from Vietnam." We can only hope.
"You know what scares me?" asks Boyd. "I haven't heard a plan (from the federal government) about
what they are going to do when the troops come home. What's the plan?"
Well?
C.W. Nevius' column appears Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday. His blog C.W. Nevius.blog can be found
at SFGate.com. E-mail him at cwnevius@sfchronicle.com
for allowing us to reprint this article.
Last May, Tim Chapman was sitting in his car on the edge of a cliff, weeping. If he took his foot off the
brake, he would go over the edge - to silence, to peace, and to death.
"It was a truck stop in Truckee," Chapman said. "I was driving to Reno. I was literally going to kill myself. I
kept thinking: I should have stayed in Iraq. I should have died over there."
The 23-year-old National Guardsman, just six months back from a tour in the combat zone, sat on the
brink for two hours. Even today, he isn't sure why he didn't launch himself over the side.
Instead, he backed off the cliff and drove himself to a hospital in Roseville. Within three days, he was in
the psych ward at a Veterans Affairs hospital. Today, after extensive therapy, he thinks his life is
beginning to make sense again.
It's a wrenching story. But this isn't the end of it. It is just the beginning.
First a few facts. Bobby Rosenthal, regional manager for homeless programs at the Department of
Veterans Affairs, estimates that one third of the more than 6,000 homeless people - about 2,100 - in San
Francisco are veterans.
And no wonder the number is so high. California leads the nation in homeless veterans by a mile,
according to the National Coalition for Homeless Veterans. The 2006 numbers showed 49,724 homeless
vets in California. The next nearest state was New York with 21,147.
Now here's the scary part. Compared with what's coming, that's nothing.
Roughly 750,000 troops served in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, often with multiple tours of duty.
Many are only now returning home. But unlike Vietnam veterans, who didn't begin to demonstrate
post-war trauma until five or 10 years after they left the war, this group seems to be on a fast track.
"Everything is speeded up," said Michael Blecker, executive director of San Francisco's Swords to
Ploughshares program. "What we're seeing in San Francisco is guys in their 20s with the kind of stress
and trauma that makes it impossible to go on with their lives."
It's been called a health care tsunami. Because not only are the Iraq vets prone to post-traumatic stress
disorder (something Chapman has battled) but with improved battlefield health care, far more are
surviving traumatic injury. On one hand, that's good news, but it also means many more vets who are
severely disabled, having lost arms and legs. Both factors increase the chances that the returning troops
will join the sad ranks of homeless veterans.
Cities all over the country are bracing themselves, although some, like San Francisco, are bound to be hit
harder. Mayor Gavin Newsom says that at a recent conference of mayors, the group passed a resolution
asking the VA "to tell us what you are going to do."
"It's great lip service," Newsom said, "but show me the money."
If history holds, the mayors shouldn't hold their breath. If anything, benefits for veterans have been
restricted. To take one example, many of us think of the World War II G.I. Bill as a shining example of a
reward for service, paying for college for vets. But Blecker, of Swords for Ploughshares, says the current
version "is in no way, shape, or form near enough" to pay for a degree.
As Newsom says, "Yeah, support the troops - as long as they are young, healthy and a great photo op."
For San Francisco, the potential impact could be huge. An influx of traumatized, battle-scarred veterans
presents a scary future. Consider the case of Scott Kehler, a veteran of the first Gulf War, who needed
years to work through his demons. He recalls passing burned bodies and the constant fear that an
explosion would suddenly erupt in the street.
"It was the things I didn't want to see at night when I closed my eyes," Kehler said. "I didn't know what
PTSD was. I only knew my dreams, my shame, my guilt, was all coming together."
Kehler spent almost 16 years kicking around the country. He lived in shelters in San Francisco and ate in
free kitchens until a friend suggested he get in contact with Ploughshares. He checked into the group's
transitional housing, a 60-person unit on Treasure Island, and began to find himself.
Today he has been hired by the organization as a residence manager. He's lived there 18 months, which
doesn't sound like much until you hear him say, "This is the longest I have lived in one place since 1990."
Kehler, who is mentoring Chapman, is testimony to the effectiveness of the Ploughshares slogan -
"veterans helping veterans."
"Especially now that we've got our veterans coming home from Iraq," said Ploughshares counselor
Tyrone Boyd, "we're going to need people that have been in combat so they know what they are talking
about."
The challenges are unique. Wanda Heffernon, a program and clinical counselor for Ploughshares, said
they had a new inductee who slept in the closet. It was the only place he felt safe.
It's the sudden transition that gets them.
"One day they are fighting in a war," said Kehler. "The next day they are sitting at their mother's kitchen
table."
Is it any wonder they end up on the street? Kehler battled alcohol abuse, but Chapman is part of the new
breed, who turn to methamphetamine. Married when he returned, he lost his wife and all contact with his
parents. Eventually he ended up sleeping in an alley. Now drug-free, living at Treasure Island housing,
holding down a full-time job, and reconnected with his mother, he is testimony to the idea that peer
counseling seems to work. Ploughshares has earned support from Sens. Dianne Feinstein and Barbara
Boxer and House Speaker Nancy Pelosi.
Imagine the impact it would have on the San Francisco homeless problem if one third of those on street
were able to get help and housing. But what the vets don't have is funding.
"Why isn't the federal government doing something about this? Why isn't the Veterans Administration
doing something?" Blecker asks. "The irresponsibility of our leaders, not to address this, makes me want
to tear my hair out." The VA's Rosenthal - who gets high marks from local leaders - says the problem is
not being ignored. "It's a whole new set of challenges," she said. "The VA is looking at it. Let's hope we've
learned our lesson from Vietnam." We can only hope.
"You know what scares me?" asks Boyd. "I haven't heard a plan (from the federal government) about
what they are going to do when the troops come home. What's the plan?"
Well?
C.W. Nevius' column appears Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday. His blog C.W. Nevius.blog can be found
at SFGate.com. E-mail him at cwnevius@sfchronicle.com
A Flood of Stressed Veterans