Veterans Day is upon us, and once again we pause for a moment to pay tribute to those who have sacrificed greatly for our country. Parades and speeches abound. The television shows film clips of graves adorned with flowers. We profess admiration and appreciation for our soldiers on this special day.
Yet I wonder if we put on a grand show to absolve ourselves of guilt over the treatment of our veterans. When Veterans Day is over, it appears that we quickly forget those who have worn the uniform and done their duty in far-off places. We give perfunctory recognition for a day and are free, once again, to forget about them.
I have a special affinity for Vietnam veterans. My uncle, raised alongside of me like a brother, is one of them. He spent his tour of duty in Da Nang. I wanted him home badly.
Once he got home, he continued his role as protector and mentor, taking me for walks and talking with me. But he was not the same. The visions of war haunted him. Eventually, his demons kept him away from me.
I have not seen him in more than 15 years.
New Directions, a program for addicted and homeless veterans, estimates there are as many as 15,000 homeless veterans in Los Angeles. Most of them served in Vietnam, according to officials of New Directions, which maintains a facility at the Veterans Administration in the Westwood district.
What does that statistic tell us?
That we recognize those who have experienced the toughest of times, but forget about them once they are scattered along freeway off-ramps and park benches. Indeed, Vietnam veterans make up a significant portion of the population in the Skid Row district of Downtown, where I used to live and now go to work each day. I am in awe of them. I regularly speak to several of them who live in the building where I work. It occurred to me recently that I have never extended myself in service to them in any kind of way. I have never offered to purchase them a cup of coffee or buy one of them a hamburger. I was unaware that one man was a decorated combat chopper pilot until Robert, one of his fellow veterans, shared those facts about "The Captain" with me. Robert, meanwhile, never fails to offer me coffee while I am on my shift. He brings it to me even though he needs a walker to assist him. His friend, the decorated vet who I know now was twice shot down, never misses a chance to encourage me on my path.
"I am betting on you", he said to me when I first started working at the building. "You could achieve whatever you want."
I've become aware of these veterans, their sacrifices. I know that many were treated badly upon their return from Vietnam. I recently asked a couple of them if they think our society learned anything from that era. Are we treating the servicemen and servicewomen returning from Iraq and Afghanistan any better?
"No," says Charles, an old grunt. "They are treated about the same as were treated."
Robert, who served his time at Quang Tri, agreed: "They need help with housing, and their wives need to receive their benefits much faster."
The Captain had the final say: "They are sent to fight and are forgotten when they return. They will need psychological help first and foremost. Then housing and jobs."
The next day, I saw Robert and Charles at a picnic in Skid Row. I made sure I got them whatever they wanted to eat. Later that day, while driving through Skid Row, I saw Charles standing at the bus stop. I pulled over and offered him a ride. He was going to the Veterans Administration. While I drove him, we chatted and joked. It was my way of finally saying thank you to my uncle and other Vietnam veterans.
That takes care of some of my guilt about the past, but what about the future?
The homeless veterans of Vietnam are now seeing small but growing numbers of cohorts from Iraq and Afghanistan hitting the streets. Officials at New Directions say they took in 12 recently returned vets in 2007, 24 in 2008, and 20 so far this year.
It will take more than one day a year to do right by the next generation of vets.
Walter Melton is a writer for the L.A. Garment & Citizen.
Photos by Walter Melton.
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