Alabama’s homeless veterans: ‘The nightmares, screams, smells’ of war

About this series:

Homeless. Veteran. These two words don’t belong together. How could someone who is willing to die for our country wind up on the streets, kicked to the curb after their service? I’m on a mission to draw as many of Alabama’s homeless veterans as possible and let them tell their stories.

We were honored to spend a day in August at the American Legion Veterans Retreat near Wetumpka, Alabama, with more than 60 veterans from all over the state who are struggling with PTSD. Army vet Larry Coleman and several others shared their stories about PTSD and homelessness with Reckon and AL.com.

Larry Coleman, Birmingham

U.S. Army

Bien Hoa, Vietnam, 1966

Larry Coleman sat on the back porch of a lodge overlooking an Alabama river one recent hot summer day talking about what it’s like to be a homeless veteran.

Suddenly his calm demeanor changed.

“This heat, the moisture, it’s taking me way back – the smell of the water … that’s just like Vietnam. Period. See how I’m sweating? I’m not hyperventilating … it’s just the elements … raise back the past,” Larry said as he shook in an apparent attempt to control the anxiety. “The only way I can manage this is to handle it. I can’t run from it.”

After a moment or two, Larry gathered himself. “We (veterans) used to hide behind stuff and cover up to act strong. But that’s not good. That only causes problems.”

Watch Larry tell his story on the video:

Larry tells his story:

"I went to Vietnam in 1966. I was with the 118th Helicopter Assault Company, which did a whole lot of assaults. The tragedy about it all - they sent us on missions they weren’t sure of.

"The nightmares, the cold sweats, the screams, the smells ... as I was coming from the war back to the world, it brought a lot of confusion, a lot of misunderstanding, a lot of distrust ... and I just wanted to be alone. The only things that I could trust then were the things I inherited from Nam: Alcohol. Weed. And a whole lot of trouble. The trouble was a big shield. The shield was to keep people away from me because I was hurting so bad.

"I lived on the streets for 5 years. I used to hop from box car to box car. Those were my comfort zones at that time. When I woke back up to reality, I (was dealing with) diabetes, COPD, high blood pressure, hypertension, a bad lung … I had to accept what was already wrong with me and try to strengthen. My turning point was I got sick and tired of being sick and tired.

“After I realized there was something I could do about it, even though it was step by step, I saw progress. I reached out for help from the VA.”

At the VA, Larry found the peer support he needed, and he also did his own research to figure out what his problems were. He took anger management classes and went through the VA PTSD program.

“All these things give us a lot of weapons to work with, but it’s not easy. I found myself still fighting the unknown. After a couple years, I got into understanding that I wasn’t in a war, there were things that could possibly trigger me, but I learned to control them.

"People see you better than you can see yourself. The input that I got gave me encouragement to strengthen my ways in what I do.” Even Larry’s fashion sense got a boost. “I changed from not caring how I dressed to presenting myself like an appropriate businessman. It increased my morale. That’s how I roll.”

“I go to South Dakota, North Dakota, Oklahoma – because of my Native American heritage, I go to pow-wows – all those things help keep me calm. I’ve also gained wisdom. I was on 22 pills. Now I’m on 8, due to the herbal medicine. The best thing out of this process, with the wisdom, is the learning and listening. Then turn around and put it in play.

“I’ve lived through segregation, the 16th Street Baptist Church bombing, the water hoses of Bull Connor. I watched my mama get snatched off a Greyhound bus – I wasn’t but 9 years old. After all these things, all the hatred, my mom died. Me being the oldest, I went to work when I was eleven to take care of my brother and sisters. Then I went to Vietnam.

“I know where I’ve been. I know how I accomplished it. There was a lot of pain, a lot of grit. I don’t know where I’m going, but I stay focused on the higher power which guides me and gives me strength. There’s nowhere to turn but to keep praising God. Every day I get up I have a chance to better myself. If you believe in yourself and you got faith the size of a mustard seed, you can move mountains.

“The battle’s not over, but I can handle it. I can calm down. I can rest."