The Homeless Veteran

I wake up with a start and try to remember where I am. Then I remember I’m back from the war in Iraq with barely any money and on the streets. Right now I’m living under a bridge sleeping in a sleeping bag, but at least I got a job. Every day I go to work at the local Subway. Doesn't pay much, but hey money, is money. It’s been hard because I constantly have flashbacks to the war. I’m not paranoid, but I fear that one day I might be. I decided to go to the VA hospital because I knew I needed help. When I arrived, I was immediately welcomed, something that has not happened to me in a long time. I was so taken aback that I just stood there for about a minute until the lady asked if I was alright.

When they brought me back into the office of one of the nurses, they asked why I was here and what I needed. I told them I’ve been having flashbacks to the night raids I did, where my first friend was killed and died in my arms. I started to cry and I remembered it vividly. We had just dropped outside an Iraqi base and infiltrated it. We turned the corner me watching his back and him watching mine. Then shot rang out. I saw him an iraqi twenty feet away I opened fired.  Four shots is what I fired. it was unnecessary but I was angry, I ran to my friend’s side and picked him up and called for help. He said no and that’s when I saw where it had hit him right through his right breast. I knew he was dying but I denied it. I said “No you can't die on me. No you're fine. Help is coming, just look at me.  Don't close your eyes.” But by then I knew it was hopeless. I broke down crying. Then rage came. It was the Iraqis fault. I rampaged through the building shooting and killing any Iraqui I saw. I felt terrible but that was our mission anyway so I knew they would have died anyway but maybe not such a violent death, at the hands of a man filled hatred and fueled by rage. The rest of the squad said it was time to leave but I didn't want to. I wanted to blow the place up or just continue fighting but then all the rage leaked out of me and I just felt hollow and sad, like a part of me was missing. I woke up the next day back at camp where they told me I was getting an honorable discharge.  I said I could still fight and they said that I can but I needed a break after last night. I realized I was talking out loud while the therapist was taking notes. I said “Sorry for taking so long Doc.” He said it was completely okay and to continue but I told him I was finished. He told me to come back whenever I had these flashbacks and if they get worse, and I just replied ok.

I started heading back to where I lived under the bridge. The air was bitter cold and I knew it would get colder before I finally went to sleep. When I got back, there was a guy going through my stuff.  I ran and tackled him, pulling the knife from my boot and putting it to his throat in one swift movement. I growled through clenched teeth “What are you doing looking through my stuff?”  The man replied “I’m sorry but I don’t have anything to call my own and I just found this stuff lying around so I decided to take it for myself.  Please don’t hurt me.” I let him up and told him to scram. I felt bad about tackling him but it’ll teach him a good lesson. I watched as he ran and thought about how young he is.  Since I got back from the war and was forced into homelessness since I had no home, no money and no family to return to, I’ve been struggling to survive. But I’ve made a lot of friends. We help each other and keep each other going. Without them I would’ve given up a long time ago. I know that one day I won't be homeless anymore but they still will be but I'll be happy to have a home