Veterans Village: ‘We see it as a beacon of hope and support for ex-servicemen and women’
It might be tempting to think Paul Matson’s path to a military career was paved by his childhood experiences playing at Fort Paull and watching flying displays at Paull airfield.
But the reality is rather more depressing. Down on his luck, he’d heard the army careers office welcomed potential recruits with a hot drink.
“I was skint and I only went there because I thought I might be able to get a cup of tea and a biscuit and then leave,” he confessed.
“Little did I know the guy was a good salesman, and 20 minutes later I had signed on the dotted line, but I did get the tea and the biscuit.”
More than 40 years on Paul is the head of Hull 4 Heroes, a veteran’s charity which has gained nationwide recognition for its achievements and ongoing ambition.
The charity has its roots in transforming homes for people who really need help. The first was for Jason Liversedge, his wife Liz and their two children. Jason had been living with motor neurone disease (MND) for two years when, in 2015, Paul and his son, young Paul, went along with all of the volunteers on DIY SOS to make his home in Rise wheelchair accessible, with modifications including an adapted bedroom and washroom.
Paul became a close friend of the family and felt the loss when Jason died earlier this month. But that first project created real legacy, and when DIY SOS asked for volunteers to create a veterans’ street in Manchester, Paul jumped at the chance to help again. One thing led to another as Paul hit it off with the programme’s presenter, Nick Knowles.
“I had a friend who was working with them on the veterans’ street,” Paul recalled,
“I rang to ask how it was going and hardly anyone had turned up so I offered to send a full team. I told Nick that I had served, and it was a joy to help some lads who were struggling as I had.”
Now the focus is on an even bigger project in the shape of the Hull 4 Heroes Veterans Village. The plan is to build 48 houses, from one to four bedrooms, on 22 acres of land opposite the police station on Priory Road. Hull City Council and East Riding of Yorkshire Council have given their backing to the project, which straddles their boundary.
The proposed start date has slipped from September this year to November, but that merely reinforces the drive and determination to get the job done. It’s only happening because of Paul’s own experiences before, during and after military life. He’s seen and lived far too much desperation to even think about giving up.
“You are taught in the forces to just get on with it, not to ask for anything,” he said.
“Everything has to be achieved, man up! You never get a chance to grieve for your friends who go down. I could see there was this constant problem with many people who had left the forces and not got the help that they’d needed.
“I felt there should be a place where they could come and interact, learn how to get proper jobs and live as a civilian.”
Paul spoke about his own difficult childhood over half a lunch at McCoy’s in Princes Dock Street. It’s a place that does style and substance very well, with smart and comfortable dining areas at ground floor, mezzanine level and a top floor which – if you’re lucky enough to get a window table – gives you smashing views across Princes Dock.
We chose the al fresco option with a table on the quayside but were sent scurrying inside by a brief but bouncing summer shower. We had a soft drink each and I tucked into a beef and stilton flatbread. Paul didn’t eat. Not even a biscuit.
I tried to tempt him because the food there is always good and it’s an interesting menu, but he wouldn’t waver. Not even after my glowing recommendation for the fish finger sandwich. In fact, especially not fish!
“I lived in a fish and chip shop for a while when I was a kid and it was fish for tea virtually every single day,” Paul explained.
Turns out when he was about seven and his parents were splitting up he went to live with his grandparents in Paull.
“They had the fish and chip shop in the village. My first media experience was cutting up the paper to wrap fish and chips in! I went to the school there. It was like Little House on the Prairie, with about 20 kids.
“I really enjoyed my days there. It was a massive adventure living by the river with all the mud and the barges, playing on the mud and looking for crabs. Even in those days there was Paull airfield where we used to go and watch the displays, and we played at Fort Paull, which I used to think was my very own fort.”
But school became a struggle because of Paul’s dyslexia and, with life at home also difficult he ran away at 14, sleeping in friends’ sheds and generally living rough.
He recalled: “It was a hard time and then I was on the dole. I remember going to a careers office and it was absolutely packed.”
And from there to the army careers office, tea and a biscuit and new horizons.
“The furthest I had ever been in my life was Bridlington and all of a sudden I was going to Sutton Coldfield for three days. They handed me my papers to get my training at Woolwich. I loved London and I loved my training but we were pushed to every extreme.
“I just wanted to prove to myself that they would never beat me no matter what. In my head I couldn’t be beaten. I refused to be beaten.”
After about five months Paul headed to Germany to 25 Field Regiment Royal Artillery, where he was given “the best job in the world”, call sign Zero Alpha, the fire direction centre.
“It was very prestigious– nobody could fire until we gave the order. I absolutely loved it. I had a fantastic job and a massive bunch of new friends.”
But the job also brought pressures, including the pain of losing a friend to The Troubles in Northern Ireland and another in an accident. And all of this against a backdrop of “Active Edge” – the codeword which would launch an exercise to test readiness for a Soviet attack.
Paul said: “We were always on call, with sirens going off to tell you to head back to camp. One day we were summoned to the parade ground at 9pm, told Britain was at war with Argentina and ordered to go back to our rooms and prepare for war. That included signing my will. We were all in a state of shock and fear.
“They asked me who I wanted my money to go to if I died, but we used to spend it as fast as it came in! There was a bit of a drinking culture. Every battery of men had a bar and ours was 20 yards down the corridor.”
After four years, with amalgamation taking place across the regiment, Paul decided to move on. What happened next still inspires him every day.
He said: “One of my best pals had been killed and I was in a bit of turmoil yet I came back to Hull. It was where most of my turmoil had begun, but it was the only place I could think of.
“I could have gone somewhere else but I probably had a bit of PTSD. I turned to drink and drugs and fell on my knees, but somebody offered me some help and I accepted and I moved forward.
“As soon as I accepted help I changed really quickly. It was like someone had thrown me a massive lifeline. You see it now, the relief on people’s faces the moment they ask for help.
“Without that chance meeting I don’t know what would have happened. I moved on, learned a trade and was working with a double glazing business building orangeries and conservatories. Eventually I started my own company.”
But even with steady work and the satisfaction of helping Jason and others, it wasn’t until Paul worked on the veterans’ street project that the penny finally dropped.
He said: “It was a turning point for me, realising that I wasn’t the only one who had struggled. I had always thought I was some sort of weakling and had to buck up.”
Driven by the desire to bring something similar to Hull, Paul pulled together veterans and people from a civilian background to set up a Hull 4 Heroes committee. The charity was established in 2016 with the aim of supporting veterans with a wide range of personal problems.
Meetings took place in coffee shops until 2019 when the charity leased a unit from Trinity House on Whitefriargate, When the lease expired earlier this year the charity traded up. It now occupies a suite of modern offices, interview rooms and a drop-in centre at Princes Quay, all built by Paul and some of the team members on the nights after work.
“It’s important to have a base and some rooms where we can interview people about their problems,” said Paul.
“You can’t really expect them to open up in a coffee shop about problems with money and relationships but at first that’s all we had. This gives us more space and more flexibility, a safe and private environment that promotes trust and understanding.”
Services have expanded and now include a food bank, with the charity also helping the wider community by making its warehouse and delivery services available to other food banks throughout the city.
But the focus remains on helping veterans and the new village is seen as a game-changer and a model for similar projects.
The Hull 4 Heroes promise is to provide a safe and stable platform for veterans and their families to build a happy and purposeful life within a civilian society. In addition to housing, the village will offer rehabilitation services, mental health support, and counselling, all designed to help veterans who may be grappling with physical injuries, mental trauma, or the other challenges of readjusting to civilian life.
Accommodation and amenities will be accessible to meet the needs of disabled residents, and vocational training centres will equip veterans with the skills to return to work. The ultimate aim is for the village to become sustainable, allowing Hull 4 Heroes to focus less on fundraising and more on providing its services.
Paul said: “We see it as a beacon of hope and support for ex-service men and women as they transition to civilian life. By offering a holistic support system, specialised facilities, and self-sustainability, we can create a positive and transformative impact on the lives of veterans and their families.
“Veterans will find an environment where they can relate to one another's experiences and offer valuable support to each other, generating the camaraderie which can play a pivotal role in reducing feelings of isolation and depression that some veterans may encounter after leaving the military.”
The village facilities will be open to non-residents and will welcome veterans from across the region who have a need for its services. The aim is to strengthen the partnerships with local businesses by getting them involved in building and supplying the site, and in providing training and work opportunities for veterans.
There will also be sponsorship opportunities to help the charity meet the build cost, estimated at £16m. Other activities include a fundraising dinner on Saturday, November 18. To find out more and book tables have a look at https://hull4heroes.org.uk/ or call in at the Princes Quay facility, which will remain as a key point of contact in the city centre.
“The drop-in centre is one of the best things we have done,” said Paul.
“Having somewhere the veterans can chat with their friends. It gives them the ability to ask for help, but not in a formal place. There was one who became a recluse after Covid but she plucked up the courage to come in. She calls it her safe place and she comes in every day. She realises she’s free now.”
Numbers of people seeking help soared from around five a week in 2016 to 500 during Covid. The figures have stabilised but Hull 4 Heroes still helps about 200 veterans a week.
Paul said: “It’s different things – food, camaraderie, a chat, homelessness, and unfortunately we are dealing with suicide quite a lot. We are not experts in everything but we exchange referrals with other organisations who are.”
As he awaits the date for the presentation of the BEM awarded in the King’s first honours list, Paul emphasises he will be receiving it on behalf of his colleagues.
He said: “I am very proud of Hull 4 Heroes and of the team we have become. Everybody works well together. We never know what each day will bring. The phone or the doorbell can lead to anything.”
Inevitably, Paul’s involvement extends well beyond 9 to 5 and five days a week, but these days it’s constructive rather than a crutch.
He said: “I spend most of my nights and weekends doing things with veterans. Paddle-boarding. Axe-throwing. Shooting. I have learned to step out of it. I watch people change and it feels great.”
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