I don't know what he did in the War, I heard he packed bodies into bags. I don't care what he did, I know he served this country. I know he was homeless and he walked the ground of Hollywood. I know because I would see him a lot , he would always be on the move, always walking a path, the path of the homeless unhelped and seemingly righteous. He never asked for a thing , never begged like the others, he was not riff raff or criminal, he was suffering, his pain was visible even to someone like me, as I am a callous type and I scrutinize beggars as to their validity of their position, something which I trained myself to get out of, a person in need is a person in need , not my place or my right to condemn him, he helped me realize the error of my ways as he was truly effected by what he had been through. He was not well perhaps no one could help him not even the country he fought served for. His torment of mind was evident, he would always be in his beret, I am not sure what battalion or infantry he was from but I do know he was decorated. I do know he was abandoned, a type of recluse a victim of the torment he had seen, the pain which case upon him the burden, the weight he could not take off his shoulders. He carried some immense pain weather perceived or created in his mind through his long hours of being abandoned by everyone and everything he encountered. No one seemed to assist him in his beat., in his life on the street. Not even the VA had given him the assistance he needed, because he not only slipped through the cracks, his despondency caused him some real pain in his life. One day he did it he stood up to people who judged him, I suppose it was his years on the street, years of hearing no one, no one except the little voice in his head, I Suppose that voice was not speaking clearly and had become confused by his torment, whatever happened he decided he was not going out like that, he got together his weapons and one day when a chopper lit him up he opened fire on it, the response was overwhelming, at that moment, he had passed the point of no return. There was no second chance for him after that there was no negotiators, there was pure full out police born hellfire rained upon him and his broken light and life was extinguished. No matter what anyone says , he never should have have gotten that far. There was no one there for him, there was no aid, there was no great determination for his assistance, the pain and suffering he had endured was to
to great for him I know it was , he cracked like the broken sidewalks and streets he would walk. He responded in a way in which he was trained , as we all became his enemy, as he walked in a land without allies, a land without friends. If only I would have reached out to him somehow , if only this world were a different place, if only his superiors saw the symptoms of a heart wounded soldier and they were able to help, but alas not the end result was death by cop, it was a sad day to me and I see to him there was no other way out.
