Filler: Too many vets out in the cold

No matter how cold it gets and how violently the wind whips on Long Island, homeless veterans are out in it. They've been taught how to live in adverse conditions, and how to survive.

In the woods last week near Patchogue, looking for and finding a homeless encampment while the windchill hovered near zero, it seemed incomprehensible that people would weather such conditions rather than accept offered help.

Donald Lyons, a veteran who's been living and working at Suffolk County United Veterans housing in Yaphank, said he had seen some likely trails into the woods. The first path he tried led to numerous homemade huts about 200 feet off Montauk Highway, clearly occupied, though no one was home during the day.

"They're off trying to find somewhere to get warm," Lyons said. "That's what I used to do."

Lyons also stayed with Suffolk County United Veterans eight years ago. He says he's not a drug addict or a drinker, but he hates bureaucracy and rules. He's stable enough to drive a van for the facility, but not to craft a successful life on his own.

The tragedy of homelessness among veterans is not that there is no funding, no programs or no people who care enough to make a difference. There is significant funding, there are numerous programs and a sea of caring people fighting the problem - and failing. There are no villains here.

Homelessness among veterans is, in most ways, not much different from that among nonveterans. Drug and alcohol addiction are often contributing factors, as is mental illness. Rising unemployment has made the situation worse, as has the high cost of housing on Long Island. What makes homeless veterans different are the issues that stem from their service, like post-traumatic stress disorder and traumatic brain injury, a phobia of counseling bred by military culture, and the great affection Americans have for them.

And their pride.

Estimates of the number of homeless veterans vary wildly, at least partly because there is little agreement over what the term means. Are you homeless if you find refuge on your aunt's couch? Are you homeless if you've found transitional housing or refuge in a shelter? Or are you only truly homeless in the woods, under an overpass or crouched in an abandoned building?

Officials at the Northport Veterans Affairs Medical Center put the number of homeless veterans on Long Island between 600 and 700. Veterans' advocates claim it is as high as 5,000. A study conducted last year by the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs came up with about 2,300, and since the truth often lies between the estimate of the people held responsible for solving the problem and the estimate of the people made overwrought by it, that's likely a fair guess.

Whatever the number, it is too high. That's because many veterans don't want the help on offer, and to some extent, there isn't enough of the right kind of help.

Officials at the Northport VA (the only VA on Long Island) say they have never filled all the beds at the Salvation Army shelter on their grounds. Only 35 percent of veterans avail themselves of any VA services.

Shelters are, for any homeless person, like morphine for a cancer patient - alleviating the pain but doing little for the sickness. For veterans to escape the problem, they must be truly sober, physically and mentally healthy, and employed.

To access the programs that would help them do this, they must be willing. Humble. Ready. At their bottom.

Talk to people fighting almost any social ill, and you hear "Funding, funding." Advocates focus on money the way moths focus on streetlights. But with the people working to help homeless veterans, you hear "outreach, outreach."

It's not that they couldn't use more money, it's just that their two biggest challenges are letting veterans know they are there with an outstretched hand, and persuading them to take it.

"The VA has wonderful programs and services, and most of the veterans don't choose to use them," says Patrick Yngstrom of the Nassau County Veterans Service Agency. "And the VA is realizing they can't do it by themselves."

Wilkens Young, 54, has seen both sides of the problem. A veteran and recovering addict, he's been jailed and homeless in the past. Today he owns a home and is director of programming for Suffolk County United Veterans in Yaphank.

One of his tasks is seeking out veterans on the streets to try to persuade them to come in out of the cold. He has a lot more luck finding them than persuading them.

"It's pride, too much of it, and some of it comes from having been in the military," Young said. "You don't want to admit you need help. . . . I get a lot of resistance, but I just keep telling them, 'You don't have to live like this.' "

This issue has been getting a lot more attention lately, and the White House announced an initiative in June to end veteran homelessness in five years.

The program focuses on the right things - most notably coordinated efforts that combine housing, training and counseling, and that are run locally and encourage public-private partnerships. It addresses a complaint among those trying to help: that there's too little transitional and supervised housing to assist with life changes as well as with a place to sleep.

The White House initiative is great news, but highlights a misunderstanding of veteran homelessness. It's not the kind of problem that can be eliminated.

Some soldiers will be broken, with chronic injuries and severe mental illness. Some will be addicted and unwilling to be pulled away from their substance.

All we can do is keep reaching out to bring them in from the cold - knowing that even when outreach works, the work is just beginning.