Meet Jody Letts, a decorated former soldier who faced a new battle on return to civilian life…
Tell us about your military career. What did you specialise in?
My partner and I both joined the army at age 19. I started off driving trucks. Then I became a Movements Operator – moving equipment, vehicles, and personnel around by road, sea, and air. You might be transporting a whole unit to Mogadishu, liaising with customs, booking airspace, meeting vessels at the seaport. I also did peacekeeping work in East Timor. We set up base camps and R&R facilities for international forces.
What did you enjoy most about military service?
You’re constantly learning, seeing new places, being in exhilarating scenarios.
You build friendships very quickly, too. It’s like a pressure-cooker: even in training, there’s smoke grenades going off, bullets flying past. You’re stretched to your limits, and you’re vulnerable. You have to work as a team.
Did the job have any downsides?
When you sign up as a soldier, the government owns every minute of life. You do exactly what you’re told. Sometimes I’d struggle with my moral compass, doing things I wouldn’t have chosen to do. You detach from your emotions.
The job really damaged my body, too. I was 19 when I first injured my spine. It was a training exercise and someone let go of the equipment. It tore me off the back of the truck. After that injury, I had to wear customised gear.
After more than a decade of service, your own military career suddenly ended. What happened?
I was pregnant with my second child when I was told I was being deploying to Afghanistan.
My spinal injury had caused complications with both my pregnancies. Neither of my babies could grow properly in my womb, and I could only give birth by caesarian. And they wanted to send me to a war zone for six months with 300 blokes and no obstetricians?
I refused to go. So that ended my career.
Australia’s Veterans become homeless at five times the average rate. Why is that so?
There’s often trauma and loss of trust. And we’re ineligible for many mainstream services, but there is no service system for veterans, no [dedicated] housing. Once you’re out the door, that’s it.
Adjusting to mainstream life can be hard, too. Soldiers can make a bed with perfect hospital corners! But we’re not taught other important life skills – cooking, budgeting, time management, applying for rental properties.
What did you do after you were discharged?
I worked in the public service. But my body got extremely damaged in the military – my spine, chest and shoulder injuries, hearing damage. So I was putting injury claims together, doing all these assessments with military doctors. They make it so hard. It’s a minefield.
My mental health went downhill. I’d get overwhelmed at work, being around people. I wasn’t coping. I started having nightmares, behaving erratically. It put strain on my relationships.
One night I went to the emergency department for help. The doctor said: “Are you a veteran? I think you have PTSD.” They sent me to Ward 17, a locked facility for veterans. When I came home six weeks later, I couldn’t tie my own shoelaces. I was medicated to the eyeballs for years.
What tipped you over into homelessness?
We had no money. My unpaid sick leave ran out. I couldn’t get Centrelink payments because different departments were fighting over whose responsibility I was. Our [rented] home got sold. Our family was separated.
I applied for rental properties, but I had no rental history and no income. We couch-surfed with family and friends for a while. I ended up living in my car, with my daughter, for two years. I felt humiliated to be in that situation.
How did you escape homelessness?
Once Veterans Affairs accepted responsibility for my [medical] conditions, I was given access to an early superannuation payment. That cash injection made me eligible for transitional housing. Eventually, I managed to get a mortgage, with the help of my Housing Support Worker. Our family came back together. We had a stable home again.
How can Australia support our veterans better?
The system tries to discredit veterans. That’s why we have a Royal Commission into veteran suicides. There are currently 72,000 injury claims sitting with Veterans Affairs. It took eight years before they acknowledged they were responsible for hurting me. Meanwhile I’d lost my job, had no money. I was destitute, homeless, close to suicide. They create so many obstacles.
Veterans need a support system that is part of mainstream services. We need trauma-informed workers who are external to the military, and not part of the veteran community.
Veterans’ voices must be part of the equation. If you run a service, get people with lived experience to help review your service systems.
What’s something you wish more people knew about homelessness?
It can happen to anyone. I had a good upbringing and a strong, stable home. I’d worked for government my whole life, served overseas, got my gong [medal]. But over six months, my life went from 100 to zero. Things can change very quickly.
Interview and write-up by Meg Mundell.
Jody Letts is an advocate, writer, and former defence force worker. She volunteers with the Peer Education and Support Program (PESP), Dental Health Services Victoria, and the Department of Veterans Affairs, sharing her lived experiences to help educate the public and improve services. Jody’s now embarking on her next adventure, traveling around Australia with her partner and their two dogs. You can follow them on Instagram @the_grayt_escape
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