One Man's Passion Brings Service to Thousands of Veterans

Chris Hart worked as a corporate quality control manager.

"I made really good money," Hart said. "I was single. I travelled around the country. I had an expense account. Life was good. Then those planes hit the towers."

The events of Sept. 11, 2001 made him feel the reality of war. He had failed the military's physical exam and never served. But he knew the family legend. His grandmother volunteered for the war office in World War II. She helped arrange notification to families of fallen soldiers. Her husband's name came across her desk.

"I raised some money after 9/11," Hart said. "I asked, is this what my grandfather would want me to do? I said to myself, I need to do more."

He looked around for something more substantial to do.

"I found out, to get full services from the VA, you have to have a combat-related injury," Hart said. "A lot of people come home with hidden injuries, like PTSD and don't qualify for counseling or even transportation."

Then he found that the number cause of death for veterans.

"It's not suicide," Hart said. "It's car accidents. Guys freak out on the stress of traffic and get into fatal accidents."

He quit his lucritive job, took money out of savings, started a non-profit organization and bought a van. He called it the Nathan Hale Foundation.

He learned first hand about the challenges of transporting veterans.

"If someone pulls up to close to the back bumper, there's chaos in the back of the van," Hart said. "You have a guy who doesn' want to leave the house without his weapon, and you have too say, 'You're not in Afganistan any more.' It really freaks some people out to get out in the world."

Hart learned the world of non-profits and veterans' services as he went. He ran out of money and had no experience raising private or public funding.

"I did it two and a half years without funding," Hart said. "I was living in the van, taking showers at Morton Park. My teeth were falling out from malnutrition."

Then, state Senator Terry Murray learned about the floundering foundation and Hart's lofty goals. She put him in contact with the people who could help him get better organized and got him state funding.

"Without Terry Murray, this would never be possible," Hart said. "The state has been wonderful to us."

Nathan Hale has an office in downtown Plymouth and Hart has an apartment. The organization still provides transportation for veterans. It also provides counseling, art therapy, case management and a food pantry for families of National Guard troops serving overseas. Hart says, most importantly, the foundation offers friendship and caring.

"Hope and dope don't work," Hart said. "Returning troops find that out. But, they see a lot of good things happen here and they trust that. The VA is wonderful, but it's a big, big place. Here, we're very close."

The Foundation served 6,000 veterans last year. July 3, it opened a second office in Middleborough. Hart envisions outreach centers statewide. He's also scouting land and funding for a theratpeutic wellness center to treat amputees and veterans with traumatic head injuries. It would have the state's first zero-gravity therapeutic pool.

"The VA will pay $3,000 for a pretty good leg," he said. "A Lucy Leg costs $35,000, so I have to go knock on doors of corporations and raise money."

He's gone from a high-income corporate job, to homelessness, to a modest income. He's found real meaning in his life.

"I make $30,000 a year now," Hart said. "I'll never see the inside of the Eel River Beach Club or the Plymouth Country Club, but I have the best job in town."