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Published on May 4, 2011
YOU CAN VIEW ALL PARTS IN MY PLAY LISTS: This is the story of my trials and tribulations from 1979-2011 trying to get military comp from Uncle Sam and VA. Part 1 from start of basic training up to just before I filed VA claim. Up to PART 12 now. Since the VA and Uncle Sam try to sreen you OUT not IN - this is one more jab in thier eye in attempt to get from them what they promised me. The entire thing is not intrictly detailed but does explain the majority of it all. INCLUDING: Mike Wallace investigation clips and my own documentations etc. I was hesitant on doing this but I find I am not alone in this type of ordeal and many returning soldiers WILL encounter similar problems so here it is. ADDITIONALLY: I found this endeavor to be grueling as hell yet cathartic a bit. When I refer to "the streets" I mean the streets of Tacoma, Seattle, Olympia WA; Sacramento, SanFransisco, CA; Portland, OR; Boise, ID; Salt Lake city UT; mostly the west coast and south west. At times I fought for my life and at times defended myself with deadly force, I never commited any felony crimes (I dont know how I did that). At my worst I was 6' 1" @ 130 pounds and it took 1 year to get to a normal 180-190 pounds and keep it on. I had pals from the streets drop dead as we walked to the next soup kitchen, saw many people stabbed to death, cut with bottles, straight razors, beat badly and more. I saw women clearly pregnant being shown how to be a street hooker by thier mothers, young kids turned into junkies, and eventually even the small amount of "street code of honor" eroded away and those who were suffering turned on each other and stole what little each had from each other. Then the crypts, bloods, cubans gangs, started coming in and drivebys were common. Middle class kids would go around beating up homeless people and even setting some on fire. I saw WW2 vets die in shelters. I saw how agencies created "to help" only helped to keep those on the skids on the skids and not assit to get us/them out of the streets and productive because thier funding came only because street-folks were there; and getting them off the streets would lower thier fundings and jobs. I saw boys and men sell thier bodies. I donated plasma so much for cash I have permanent scars on both arms. I sterilized knives with fire to cut open infected blisters and used torn up sheets for bandages. There were times I didnt shower for weeks, or bathed in the Puyallup river, raided farms at night for food, used a paper clip to fish out dollars from the park-n-ride lot boxes, collected cans for cash, did day labor jobs with out having eaten 2-3 days and little sleep. Anything and everything that had any sentimental value to me was stolen, lost or sacrificed (he who travel light travels best). But thats not just MY story thats the story of most who must deal with life on the streets.