I came across this photo of Leroy the other day and realized I still had tears left in me that I haven’t cried for him and for many others. Leroy took my place on point some years ago. He was fairly new to the field and the Captain wanted him to get some experience. That is the way it is in combat… you have to prove that you are not going to break down under fire to be accepted by your comrades, and no one, including yourself, know how you will react… until it happens. Leroy did well, however, his squad was ambushed and he was hit by an incoming mortar while attending the wounds of his Lieutenant… there were no survivors.

Two days later our company was down to only 13 men and the squad I was with was also ambushed. I was wounded while attending the wounds of the Corporal and, against orders, a pilot and his crew answered our distress call. The Corporal and myself were thrown onto the rescue helicopter a short time later. We were the last to leave the field alive.

As I lay in my bed at the Bethesda Naval Hospital a few weeks later, I wondered to myself what war was all about. I wrote down these words in response.

I now live just a few miles away from where we were that day and have made friends with men who could well have been my enemy back then. So much has changed over the years, but I still wonder… I wonder if all of mankind will ever be able to stand one day, in peace before each other?