Birgitt Paul has worked as a nurse at the Veterans Affairs (VA) in Cheyenne, Wyoming, for over a decade – five years on the floor, five and a half coordinating at-home care for veterans in the region.
Like many people working at the agency, she has her gripes with the system – it could be more efficient, more streamlined, easier to navigate for the veterans in need of its care, and better for the 400,000 employees that keep its wheels spinning.
But Donald Trump’s order for all federal employees to return to the office, coupled with an expected 80,000 cuts at the agency amid sledgehammer-style layoffs at the so-called “department of government efficiency” (Doge), make Paul worry that this top-down style of reform will have dire consequences for America’s veterans.
There are many people with strong ideas of how to make the VA more efficient and cut costs, she argued.
“But that’s not what they’re doing right now.”
Wyoming is a land of superlatives. It’s America’s least populated state, with under 600,000 residents. It’s possibly the country’s most conservative, going to Trump by the widest margin for three elections in a row. And it has the highest share of veterans in the lower 48 states. More than 9% of the state’s adult civilian population were veterans in 2022, and it has two large VA centers: one in the north Wyoming town of Sheridan, and the other in Cheyenne, the state capital.
The state’s strong support for the president does not mean a unanimous endorsement from its veterans for Trump’s proposed VA cuts. In more than a dozen interviews, veterans said they were eager for reforms at the VA and across the military, saying they wanted less bureaucracy, and wished that policy that affected veterans had more input from veterans themselves. Some veterans said they believed Doge’s cuts would bring drastic benefits at no loss to veterans. But many feared veterans would lose a lifeline in a state whose veteran suicide rate is double the national average. They feared VA services would be increasingly privatized, hamstringing care, and were worried about far-reaching economic impacts to the region.
Bobby Gray, who served in the army for 11 years, seeks care at the Cheyenne VA, and fears the impact of layoffs on his healthcare. Sitting at a round wooden table in a Cheyenne bar, Gray sipped on a soda and minced no words about the importance of the VA in his life.
“They’re my lifeline,” said Gray. “I wouldn’t be here without the VA. I’d have been gone a long time ago.”
Dwight Null, who served for two years in the army, concurred the agency plays a singular role in the life of many American veterans, offering a level of cultural understanding not available in the private sector.
“A high percentage [of VA employees] are veterans in one service or the other, or have family that were veterans, or have worked at the VA working with veterans long enough that they understand our culture,” said Null, who now helps veterans access resources and care. “If you’re sitting down with a therapist that doesn’t know what a combat veteran went through, there’s not much value in it.”

Trevor Smith served in the air force for 18 years and gets his care through the VA as well. Sitting beside his wife in their north Cheyenne home, a cane resting against his leg, Smith talked about his second suicide attempt.
“I got one of my guns out and charged around and put it to my head, and she fought me and called the police,” Smith said.
Smith credits the VA’s care with keeping him alive. He worries about other traumatized veterans that have not had the same luck accessing care, and said that vets can be a “difficult” population to care for. If left to the private sector, Smith’s thoughts for vets and their caregivers are simple: “We’re fucked.”
“I have been extremely fortunate. I have very good care, I have very good people. And even with that, you can still get to a point, even with the best care, where you have a gun to your head,” Smith said. “People that are barely holding their heads above water now. What’s gonna happen if they take some of that away?”
Rosemarie Harding served 11 years in the army and 22 in the national guard and represents Laramie county on the Wyoming Veterans Commission, a government board whose mission is “to develop, enhance and promote programs, services, and benefits to Wyoming veterans”. Speaking in her own capacity, Harding wondered what alternatives would exist for veterans who would struggle to access care under layoffs.
“If they don’t have the VA, where are they going to go? Medicaid, which the state of Wyoming did not expand and hasn’t expanded?” Harding said.
When Doge looks for areas to cut, Paul, the nurse, worries that they will target at-home care, which she says is a vital VA service. She estimated that more than half of the female veterans she works with have sexual trauma, and the VA can accommodate this in a way the private sector cannot.
“There are women who need help who won’t accept it from a [private] agency because they don’t know who’s coming into their house,” Paul said. “So I have a program where you can pick your caregivers that you trust.”
‘There is a need for these cuts’
Other veterans said that they were not worried about the cuts affecting their care. Arthur Braten served eight years in the navy and eight in the army. He works at the VA as an HVAC tech, and is a disabled veteran himself, receiving comprehensive benefits. He said he is not worried about job security or losing access to his care, and supports the cuts.
“There is a need for these cuts. Biggest reason is, I believe that the VAs are top-heavy,” Braten said, leaning on the counter in an east Cheyenne bar. “I think all these cuts are going to streamline the VA and in the long run, it’s going to give us better-quality people and better care.”
Braten used his workplace as an example, saying he saw overstaffing in high departments but vacancies in his own role. Braten voiced support for Doge and disdain for the “corruption they’ve found … Our tax money went to Afghanistan, it went to all these other countries for stupid, stupid things.”
He said many people in his surroundings felt similarly: “I haven’t come across a person yet that has been against it.”
A man in a yellow University of Wyoming sweatshirt took a break from ordering a drink to interrupt Braten’s interview.
“I’m against it. Now you’ve come across me,” the man said.
Dan, another disabled veteran (“I’m all beat up”), is firmly in Braten’s camp. Dan served for 24 years in the air force, and is not worried about his VA healthcare access in the face of layoffs , or about his current job at a separate federal agency. “I do believe that I’m going to get the care that I need,” he said.
“America got itself in such a deficit that it takes extreme measures to fix the damage,” Dan said.
Dan refers to himself as a “sacrificial lamb”. He was hired remotely, and the federally mandated return to office will split him from his family and push him to a Denver suburb 100 miles (160km) south. He will rent an apartment, receive an increase in pay, and believes his productivity will suffer – “there’s no efficiency in that regard.”
But he stands behind the cuts. His views were shaped by what he considered large amounts of wasteful spending in the military, he said.

Leadership would tell him: “If you do not spend this amount of money, you’re not going to get it next year,” Dan said, or “if you don’t spend our budget, if you don’t spend a million and a half dollars, and you only spend $500,000, then next year, we’re only gonna get $500,000. So you need to make up for the difference.”
‘Everybody doesn’t know what to expect’
Eric, a 24-year army veteran (“I’ve been blown up four times and shot twice”), and an employee at the Cheyenne VA, speaks bluntly and has no fondness for the federal bureaucracy or its spending habits. But the Doge cuts and impending VA layoffs, follow a structure he cannot get behind. He wants to see more input from veterans and less from inside the beltline, he said.
“It never works top-down,” said Eric, who asked the Guardian to only use his first name due to his current VA employment. “I wish I could have 10 minutes alone with [VA] secretary [Doug] Collins. It might cost me my job, but I really don’t care. Let me put together a team out of the VA employees that are there and figure out what the hell is the problem at the VA and fix it.”
Eric spoke acidly about seesawing emails from Doge creating an atmosphere of insecurity at the department, and said the cuts would have the opposite of the advertised effect, with the VA’s best doctors moving to the higher-paying private sector.
“They love the veterans, but goddamn, they’ve got to look out for their families. They’ve got to look out for their mortgages. They’ve got to look out for what happens when all of this goes to hell and everybody’s looking for a job at the only other hospital in town,” Eric said. “And the ones that we want to leave, the ones that aren’t performing, the underperformers, they’re digging in like ticks.”
Robert, another Cheyenne VA staffer and 20-year air force veteran, said the atmosphere after the initial “Fork in the road” email has been heavy.
“Everybody doesn’t know what to expect. I feel like every day, you’re worried about checking your email because you don’t know what it’s gonna say,” said Robert, whom the Guardian is identifying by his first name.
Robert’s wife is a federal employee who was hired remotely. While Robert has some confidence that he will survive the VA layoffs, his wife’s in-person office would be in Bethesda, Maryland, which Robert dryly labels “a bit of a commute”.
“What we had thought was going to be the next 10 years has vastly changed,” Robert said.
Harding, at the Wyoming Veterans Commission, worries about the economic impact on Cheyenne, a city of 65,000 that is deeply dependent on the military. Along with the VA, the city boasts FE Warren air force base, as well two national guard outposts.

“Cutting all those positions is going to have an immediate economic impact on the city, I don’t think that those people can readily be absorbed by the local economy,” Harding said.
Lee Filer, a Republican state representative, was born on FE Warren and served for eight years in the Wyoming air national guard. Filer has economic concerns about reducing the VA’s workforce and benefits, but practical ones as well – would military recruitment suffer further if young people enlisting were skeptical that the government would take care of them?
“They sign a contract. They’re entitled to all these different benefits. And if we’re going to take care of them, if they get hurt or anything else, whatever happens, we’re here to take care of you as the American people in a society,” Filer said. “But all it takes is a strike of a pen and no Congress to push back and guess what? Now they can lose that.”
Filer emphasized that he believes waste exists, and supports “streamlining” the federal government. But he wants to see a more methodical approach, and worries Congress doesn’t have the political willpower.
“They don’t want to cross the president in any way, whether because of primary threats or fear of losing re-election,” Filer said. “But we need to get past that. If we look at our federal delegation, they all ran on supporting veterans.”
When Paul, the VA nurse, hears politicians decry soaring VA costs, she thinks of widespread rallying behind the Pact Act, which passed in Congress with large bipartisan support, and was one of the largest increases to the VA budget in recent years.
Paul said she has been vocal about her concerns over Doge and potential VA privatization, to the point that she’s been advised by higher-ups to not say so over government channels. She has “come to peace” with the prospect of retaliation for having “spoken truth”, she said, but she won’t accept being told, like probationary employees in earlier Doge layoffs, that she is being fired for poor performance. After the initial February firings, Paul and her colleagues printed out their performance evaluations, just in case.
“The evaluation I have is outstanding,” Paul said. “So if you’re gonna try to fire me because I had poor performance, I will be suing you.”
Comments