In the New Year an ex-submariner who slept on a park bench for seven years is due to start a degree course at Ruskin College . . . a former RAF engineer who spent last Christmas sleeping in a car is looking forward to a successful acting career and an ex-soldier whose addictions and violent behaviour were ruining his life has a job and a future. All three say they owe their new lives to Veterans Aid.
On a scale of 1-10 ‘veterans’ are pretty high up the worthy causes list. Whatever, as individuals, we feel about current operations, most of us are objective enough to realise that the men and women involved in them are doing a difficult job in dangerous and hostile conditions.
So donating to veterans charities is a no-brainer, right?
Well, maybe. The fact is that an alarming number of people in Britain today don’t actually know what a ‘veteran’ is. This may seem a strange thing to say in the wake of 11/11 and Remembrance Sunday, but it’s true. And what’s even more alarming is that if they did know they might be less likely to support charities for those in crisis - like Veterans Aid.
The official definition of a veteran in the UK is “Anyone who has served in HM Armed Forces at any time, irrespective of length of service (including National Servicemen and Reservists). ”
There are around 5.5 million veterans in the UK – teenagers and octogenarians; most transit seamlessly from Service to civilian life and never need help. But a tiny number do. Veterans are not all brave young men who have seen active service, or proud elderly gentlemen sporting chests full of medal. The decorated and the injured are humbling reminders of the sacrifices made – but there is another war, one that scars people equally visibly; one that many of us would rather not know about. And it is taking place all around us.
Imagine – a Friday afternoon in summer. Drinking weather. The video entry phone at Veterans Aid has framed a succession of faces; some familiar, some first time callers, some aggressive and drunk. This is the face of a tense young woman. Moments later, as she manhandles her buggy up the almost vertical stairs to VA’s cramped, shabby offices, the baby tucked under her arm begins to cry. This is a woman at the end of her tether. With only the clothes she stands up in, and a bag of baby items, she faces a night on the streets.
The sequence of events that led her to VA’s doorstep had nothing to do with military service . . . just a sudden eviction, a lost wallet and a broken marriage.
But this young mother was a veteran, who served honourably for three years in the British Army. She needed nappies, reassurance and food – and she received all three, instantly. Within an hour the pair were in a taxi to a hotel where they would remain until her problems were sorted out.
Most of the people who come to Veterans Aid are male, middle aged and ex-Army. Some have had lives derailed suddenly, without warning – others have more deep rooted problems that have worsened over time. Typically those who seek help do so many years after discharge, ranging in age from 19 to 85. Generally life, poverty or social isolation brings them to VA - not PTSD or Service-related issues.
Some are what, in 1563, would have been described as ‘the deserving poor’ (i.e. “Those too old, young or ill to work”). Somehow this phrase has become embedded in our consciousness, becoming a permission slip to ignore the scruffy, smelly supplicants who roam our streets or ambush us outside supermarkets. Disturbingly, some of these people wear items of military clothing or veterans’ badges.
A light year away from the homecoming heroes of Afghanistan, a tiny number of them really do share the right to call themselves ‘veterans’. Yet they, along with many other victims of life, have ceased to be attractive recipients of the nation’s largesse. To some people this presents a dilemma. It’s easy to understand why heroes should be supported, but the most courageous thing some veterans have done is pluck up the courage to ask for help.
Perhaps, as Christmas approaches, it’s time to revisit the stereotype of a veteran. Do former Guards Officers become alcoholics or get into debt? Do ex-Servicemen on six-figure salaries ever become mentally ill or unemployable? Do female veterans ever face life on the streets? Indeed they do. Some are heartbreakingly deserving, astoundingly resilient and almost too proud to ask for help – others would be deemed, by some, definitely ‘undeserving’ . . . but they are still human beings in need.
CEO of Veterans Aid Dr Hugh Milroy says, “We represent the military family looking after its own. Our philosophy is ‘hand up’ not ‘hand out’. Yes, we address basic needs like provision of new clothing, food and accommodation, but some problems are deep rooted and nuanced. Our staff has the patience and expertise to guide people through the slow ‘unpacking’ process necessary to deal with more complex issues.”
And that expertise includes the services of a barrister, a drug and alcohol adviser, a military psychiatrist and a social worker. Milroy himself is a Gulf War veteran and Senior Visiting Research Fellow at King’s College.
Veterans Aid doesn’t care how people arrive at its door – only how they leave. It’s there for all ex-Servicemen and women - anytime, at any stage of their life; not just at Christmas, or around Remembrance Day. It knows that for many Veterans Aid is the Last Chance Saloon - but it has an astounding track record of success in mending broken lives.
‘Nigel’ who was homeless and ill for 30 years now lives in Fulham, in his own home. “I would be dead now if it hadn’t been for Veterans Aid” he reflects, recalling the bitter winter day he moved into the charity’s New Belvedere House hostel.
A film about Nigel and two other formerly homeless veterans who’ve trod the same path is being released for Christmas. ‘Veterans Voices: A Christmas Carol’ will be on www.veterans-aid.net from Christmas Eve.)
ENDS
