Point-in-Time Count connects homeless Veterans with vital resources
VA volunteers brave the cold: Counting and assisting homeless Veterans
The evening temperature was about 40 degrees, not too bad considering the previous weeks when frigid temperatures caused some to boot and bundle up. It was great weather for the more than 200 volunteers who stepped into the dark to find and assist those in need.
VA partnered with DeKalb County’s Continuum of Care agencies for the annual Point-in-Time Count (PITC): a nationwide effort to identify people experiencing homelessness on a single night, explained Dawn Kentish-Bennett, chief, Atlanta VA Homeless Program. The data’s impact on Veterans can be especially significant as it directly influences how federal and local funds are allocated, particularly through programs supported by VA.
The goal: connect Veterans to VA benefits, case management and supportive services like housing programs.
Accurate data “tells us where to focus outreach to connect eligible Veterans to VA services,” Kentish-Bennett said. “Without it, we risk leaving Veterans unseen and underserved.” Once collected, the numbers are compiled and shared with housing agencies and federal partners. “Our team and local community partners, like Supportive Services for Veteran Families, play a vital role in helping VA achieve its goal of reducing homelessness among Veterans,” she said.
Reaching Veterans can be complex
In one group of 10, comprised of VA staff and Veterans, the destination was six locations known for unsheltered populations. With their flashlights cutting through the dark, they searched behind stores, over fences, through high grass, under bridges and near overpasses—places most housed residents pass daily without a second glance or concern.
The feeling wasn’t somber.
“It felt more like we’re going out to help somebody,” Aaron, an Army Veteran and volunteer, said. “We approached with respect first. No one had on a hero’s cape. We let people know we’re here to connect them to help, not to judge. We were doing something good for our comrades and community.”
That night, cellphones were the superpower, a direct connection to help. Outreach teams were linked to a structured survey app to input individuals’ identities and their locations. And if desired, a call for pickup and a ride to the shelter. Still, the count is widely understood to be an estimate since some people remain in hidden locations or hesitate to share information.
Five people that night shared a snippet of their history; none were Veterans, but their stories lingered.
One woman, Karen, was sleeping behind a gas station. Her story echoed a familiar pattern: hard times, limited safety nets and the steep logistics of staying housed when life unravels.
Under highway overpasses, volunteers saw how some people survive. Some slept between the longitudinal beams beneath bridges, spaces that shielded them from wind and rain.
It’s enough to have your stomach constantly grumbling, then to add the roar of traffic overhead can be heartbreaking.
“How do they stand the noise?” someone wondered aloud.
A seasoned outreach worker answered gently, “For some, safety means tuning out the roar of the elements around them. Those tight, hidden, narrow spaces beneath the noise, people find shelters from a world that hasn’t always sheltered them.”
The reality felt different up close than it seemed on television. These weren’t movie stars in writer-created scripts; they were people, navigating survival under a bridge and often forgotten.
Some might say people living this way are hidden in plain sight, much like soldiers who once trained to stay low and out of danger, except now the threat isn’t an enemy, but the uncertainty of the streets. For Veterans like Stevie Anderson, being found makes all the difference.
A different kind of mission
Anderson, a headcount volunteer, didn’t just see a survey in action—he saw his own story reflected at him.
“I know the feeling,” he said. “I wouldn’t want others to be in those places like I was.”
He served in the active Army and Reserve from 1981 to 2001, and was stationed in Germany twice, as well as at Fort Leonard Wood, Mo.; Fort Bliss, Texas; and Fort Jackson, S.C. Years after his military career, life shifted. A divorce and a series of financial setbacks led to instability, then the streets. Anderson was unhoused off and on for more than a year.
“I stayed in motels and an extended stay hotel when I could. Then the hotel caught fire, and we had to evacuate. After that, I didn’t have anywhere stable to go,” he said quietly. “My money started to run out. I have family, but they have families of their own. They didn’t have room. So, I had no choice but to sleep where I could.”
For a time, a business owner allowed him to get out of the cold and sleep in a gas station car wash. Later, William Hughes, a VA social worker and outreach specialist with Health Care for Homeless Veterans, helped place him at Must Ministries Hope House shelter in Marietta before transitioning to VA’s Grant Per Diem program at Salvation Army, Red Shield Services.
“It’s a safe and comfortable space for now. I’m saving a little money for when I get back on my feet,” said the former light-wheeled vehicle mechanic and platoon sergeant.
The Department of Housing and Urban Development-Veterans Affairs Supportive Housing (HUD-VASH) is a program combining rental assistance with VA case management. It’s one of the most effective programs for ending Veteran homelessness because it addresses both housing and supportive needs; however, the number of Veterans needing assistance is higher than the number of HUD-VASH vouchers available in many communities.
Veterans may be eligible for months or even years before a voucher becomes available. Even with a voucher, finding a suitable or affordable rental unit is difficult.
The program requires specific documentation.
Proof of military service.
Income verification.
ID and other legal documents.
Delays in eligibility processing can lengthen the time before a Veteran is awarded a voucher. For Veterans who have been unhoused for long periods, obtaining or replacing these documents can itself be a time-consuming hurdle.
“It feels like being put on hold sometimes,” Anderson admitted. “That can be frustrating. If you don’t have a Social Security card, you can’t get an ID. Without ID you cannot get a birth certificate. A missing birth certificate means no proof for a Social Security card. It’s a loophole.”
His current shelter stay is temporary. He has a limited window to secure a permanent solution. His hope is steady housing and peace of mind. Not luxury—stability.
“What I really want is a single apartment where I can stay and feel settled,” Anderson explained. “Somewhere clean. Somewhere permanent.”
Faith and forward motion
Despite uncertainty, Anderson leans on his faith. Each morning begins the same way.
“I pray and read my Bible,” he said. “That’s the first thing I do.”
There may be a misunderstanding about homelessness and Anderson believes more outreaches could help Veterans before the crisis.
“People do reach out for help,” he said. “Sometimes they get turned away or don’t have the right documents. That makes it hard. Do more counts. Have seminars. Put flyers where people can see them. A lot of people don’t know help is there.”
Seen, not forgotten
The PITC isn’t just about numbers. It’s about visibility. For some Veterans, being counted is the first step toward being connected. For others, it’s a reminder that someone is looking for them.
VA and community partners continue working to reduce Veteran homelessness through housing programs and outreach. Progress is being made nationally, but individual journeys still require persistence, trust and time.
For Anderson, the count isn’t an abstract policy. It’s personal, as he knows that better than most. On that winter night when he and volunteers scanned the shadows for those in need, his story stood as proof: Sometimes being found can change the course of where you’re headed next.