"The Vietnam War will be a major force  in our lives until the
entire baby boom generation dies out...  And even after that".

Below you will find a true story of one of America's Forgotten Heros.
Yes A Hero!  Nam1968Vet@aol.com
Any man or woman that served in Vietnam is a hero.
The story contains his feelings and emotions 25 years later.
As the anniversary of "The fall Of Saigon" is recognized.
The terror, the haunts, are still  there.
He hears the bombing!  He feels the heat of the jungle!
He smells death all around him! He still sees
the bags containing the bodies of his friends.
Who are we, to sit back and judge these men,
that served their country as eighteen, nineteen, year old boys,
straight out of high school?  Some never touching a gun before,
were handed a gun and were told to use it.
Think on that parents!  You with children this age.
Can you picture them as one of the soldiers in this picture?
You may find some of the language offensive,
I did not and will not change any words
To smooth over  his experience.
These are his words, his typing, his expressions.
No changes have been made
My heart goes out to these men,
who are still experience the terror of Vietnam after
twenty five years.
God Bless Each and Every One of You.
Susie
 
 
 
 

Dear Susie, this is chapter one arrival in Vietnam
as a terrified teenager in 1968, each chap
passes through my year in Hell and ends in
1970 when my enlistment ended. Some
parts contain language and graphic descriptions,
please forgive me those parts.
This was an emotional journey back in time
hopefully to retire the
demons that constantly haunt AND TERRIFY ME,
Your puter pal and friend, Larry

VIETNAM VETERAN'S STORY

The latch opened shortly after the wheels
stopped and the overpowering blast of
oppressive heat, humidity, and the stench of death,
dying, and decay filled the air.
We had just landed in Cam Rahn Bay,
The Repple Depot, armyspeak for replacement
depot. It was close to dark and we were herded into
a long low building by a sweating, Staff Sergeant who looked
totally bored with what must have been the ten
thousandth group of fng's, fresh meat, newbies, cherries,
all different names given to those unfortunates,
a planeload of scared kids starting their year in Hell. Once inside
we were greeted by an officer who gave
us a rousing welcome to South Vietnam,  and
how each and every one of us would be
a good will ambassador from America sent
to help save the South Vietnamese people
from the dreaded Vietcong and how oh so
important we were and how honored and
privileged we were! Being a 19 year old
kid scared to death I swallowed his story hook, line, and sinker.
We signed all kinds of papers, forms and whathave you
and taken to a mess hall and fed our first meal(?) in
what would become our own personal fight for
survival for the next 366 days (leap year) after chow
we were showed to a barracks and told to grab some shuteye.
We all must have had butterflies the size
of a small airplane and reacted with terror with
every sound. The same bored sergeant came in
and showed us where the bunkers
were and assured us that Cam Ran as he called
it was so safe that LB. had visited
the troops and not a strand of his hair
had been threatened. It was an unreal feeling
of hoplessness, terror and unknown that gripped my bowels.
Just as my eyelids began fluttering the roar of
Air Force Fighter/Bombers blasting into the sky on their
way to blast the enemy to kingdom
come jolted me into hyper alertness.
The replacement area was split into two parts,
incoming and outgoing, vastly different
in every way. Outgoing meant going back to
"The World" or America, their tour of
duty completed, all swaggering and insulting
us funny new guys, bragging how tough
it was going to be for our sorry asses.
The incoming half was for new troops being
assigned to units throughout the country.
We all got shots for all kinds if scary tropical diseases,
big lousy tasting pills to protect us from Malaria and finally got
our orders. Mine were that I had been assigned to
The 815th Engineer Battalion in
Pleiku in The Central Highlands .
A good sized group of us were loaded into a C130
Cargo Plane and flown to Pleiku Air Force Base
an evil looking place with rugged
mountains and red dirt. Two deuce
and a halfs were waiting with an angry looking
sergeant with clipboard yelling
at us and checking orders, loading us into the trucks
that had a covering of red dust.
It was again almost dark and we flew up the road to
Engineer Hill before darkness fell,
you see, Charlie(the  bad guys) owned the night
and the drivers made sure to be
inside the "safety" of the compound. After reporting
for duty to the tall nasty looking First Sergeant,
I was taken to the armorer and
handed a strange looking black plastic rifle,
flak vest, steel pot, jungle fatigues, and ammo.
Next came assignment to our hootch,
a long low half wood, half sandbag place
with a tin roof. I was mostly ignored
by the guys, all hardened veterans counting the
days until their year was done, a couple
of guys showed me where the bunkers were
and told me what to do if we were attacked.
The fear in my eyes made the guy laugh
as he said welcome to Pleiku, you're gonna
just love it here! And so began my first
night in a war zone, far from the safety
of the replacement depot, into a dark, scary
place filled with the sound of hueys helicopters
that constantly were in the air during
the dry season and an occasional loud blast
of artillery, thankfully outgoing.

VIETNAM Chapter II

I was a school trained heavy equipment mechanic,passed
all the written tests and failed all the practicals,graduated
and was shipped to Vietnam.It was early in 1968,
The TET Offensive was raging and more
new bodies were needed to feed the
war machine,this was the biggest build
up of the entire war and there were close to
a half million Americans "in country".My stint in
The Motor Pool lasted for about a week,I just couldn't make my hands
obey my brain,the Motor Sergeant didn't have
time or patience to watch me so
I was now being cross trained as a 5 Ton Wrecker
driver/operator. Things were slowly
cooling off,the enemy had been devastated by
TET and was licking their wounds staying clear of us.
Every night a spectacular light show
was provided by "Puff The Magic Dragon"
an old Air Force AC 47 cargo plane
converted to a gunship with high tech
gattling guns that fired 7.62 mm rounds at
lightning fast speed,every 5th round
was a tracer and it looked like a solid stream of
red cuting through the pitch black night sky.
The Army had also modified a Huey
Helicopter to fire these same rounds and being a helicopter
was far more maneuverable than the slower prop driven AC 47.
These "fireworks displays lasted until shortly before dawn
when Charlie dissappeared into the misty jungle not willing
to fight toe to toe.Time seemed to
crawl by and several new replacements
had arrived inching me up the "food chain"
from bottom feeder to still green with a little
experience.The war still raged all over the country and
still the body bags were stacked like chord wood at
Cam Rahn Bay and other entry/departure
locations,battles were fought lives
were lost and the whole stinking mess continued
like a living nightmare,a chess match
played by Generals that used 19 year olds as
pawns in an ever widening and maddening game.
The dry season was coming to an
end and the Monsoons would be
making life even more miserable with torrential
downpours that turned the red dust
of Pleiku into a pinkish quagmire that swallowed
men and equipment with equal abandon.
Vietnam itself with it's tropical climate hosted some
of the deadliest snakes known to
man as well as tigers and elephants
and thousands of different varieties
of insects,ants,bugs and lizzards plus the hit and
run tactics of guerilla warfare waged
by the enemies.The wet season made it totally
impossible for aircraft to fly because
of the low clouds and storms and high ridges
and mountains that were
The Central Highlands.Engineer Hill was just 1 of the many
bases in Pleiku,there was
The Air Base,Camp Holloway across the wide valley that
was home to an assault helicopter
and medevac helicopter company,"The DG Pit"
or quarry where base materials
for road and airfield construction were mined,
The MASH unit,MACV HQ, short for
Military Assistance Command Vietnam, a very large
installation called "The CIA Yard" that housed
warehouses,the asphalt and cement plants,lumber yards
and all kinds of supply facilities,way off on Dragon Mountain was
The 4th Infantry Division that provided
protection to Pleiku as did the helicopters and
gunships of Pleiku AirForce Base.
Pleiku itself is a moderate sized town typical of
Vietnam,open markets,main street,bars,clubs,and it's notorious
off limits section where GI's were forbidden to visit.
More than once anxious GI's hid from the MP's that
routinely patrolled looking for unlucky guys
looking for a breif respite from the killing
and maiming that went on and on.
It was a game of cat and mouse,typical of any
army installation worldwide with the major
difference,we unlike our Stateside brothers
and sisters were a captive group working
off our sentence,a year in Hell.Days slowly
became weeks and months and the beat wore on .
There were peaks and valleys as
far as action around Pleiku,mortar
attacks were far too frequent,the Air Base took
122 mm Rockets that left craters and shattered equipment and nerves,
Dragon Mountain was always being hit,the night sky red
from gunships supporting the ground troops and armor.
After a while you could tell the difference between incoming
rounds which sounded like a giant walking in heavy erratic steps,
spewing deadly schrapnel in all directions,and outgoing the blasts
of Our Guys aiming back.The cry of Incoming! and the sounds
of the attack made your hair stand on end as we hid
under whatever we could find hoping a round didn't land close by.
Some mortar attacks stand out,one in perticular
that sent mortars raining down on "A" Company
where I called home.Rounds landed inside the mess hall,motor pool,
and close to small out buildings filling the sides with holes.
We had Vietnamese Nationals working on Engineer Hill
during the day and at night they would shoot mortars at us,
I never trusted them but learned to coexist.I'd seen guys
come and go,saw a First Sergeant and CO leave and
worked for their replacements,as time slowly wore on
life became a monotonous routine
highlighted by attacks and alerts,each day burning
itself into my mind and body,the scared kid
that landed in Cam Rahn Bay had been
changed into a hard,untrusting,uncaring creature
that became unhuman ,machine like,reacting to the slightest
sound like a coiled snake  ready to strike,when the mortars
came there wasn't time to stand around
thinking,you had seconds to move
and pray. The Perimeter would erupt into
volleys of machine gun fire and the loud
blasts of grenades exploding when the mortars came.
Puff would begin his light show
and guys would hunker down M-16's
locked and loaded ready to shoot anything that
moved not wearing green,The VC wore
black pajamas making them impossible to see
.Nerves became frayed,tempers short
but still thinking we were doing God's work
saving The South Vietnamese from the VC.
It wouldn't be until after our year in Hell
was complete and we rotated Stateside that we learned the allful truth.

VIETNAM CHAPTER 3

Short timers are noted for being superstitious
and greatly resent new guys or ladies
anywhere near them afraid that some evil
situation will bring about some kind of jinx.
It normally took close to 3 months before
a newbie became trusted and accepted,
some took longer while still others were accepted in less time having
done something to improve their standing.
There were times during my year that I was sent in convoy to
Quin Nhon to bring oxygen and acetylene cylinders back to Pleiku
through Man Iang and An Khe passes,totally
bathed in sweat locked loaded and so
terrified that when we finally got back to
Engineer Hill I wanted to kiss the ground.
Convoys were prime targets for Charlie
and there were all kinds of horror stories told
and retold to newbies making their lives
even scarier.My stint as a shotgun rider on
the wrecker ended after we were sent to
Kontum Pass to bring back the remains of
a dump truck convoy while the action was hot and heavy.
I remember little of the return to Pleiku,was so terrified that
I must have walked around in shock.It seemed like forever before
I stopped shaking would even talk to anybody.To this day the events
of that ambush haunt my memory and trees growing over a road cause great
fear and anxiety.I barely remember talking to The CO after preparing
the wrecker for the next call.From that day on,I was never sent off
the compound.The sights and sounds of that massacre still echo
in my brain,the details are still a blur shit happening so fast,
the urgency in hooking up to a shot up truck and scramming before
we got hit,the mad dash to safety.Part of me wants to
forever bury the memory and part of me
won't let me bury it,still lurking inside,the demons remain.
My senses were now on hyper active alert,
the slightest change,the noisy tropical
nights becoming deathly quiet meant imminant danger,
after being in country for close to 4 months
I became very aware of the subtle changes,just as I'd seen short
timers react when I first arrived.Nam kinda grew on you,
kept your eyes and ears open wide and your rifle locked,
loaded and in arms length or shorter.I used to sleep
with my rifle in my arms safety on but finger resting
close by just in case.As the year
slowly progressed,we began hearing
about riots and anti war demonstrators clashing
all across America.The ultimate insult
was when Jane Fonda "visited" Hanoi and
spouting anti American slogans and
propoganda went live on Radio Hanoi telling
American Troops to lay down their
weapons,get on our knees and beg to become
Communists,we were oh so horribly
treating these kind gentle people who didn't
know why we were killing them.
That part of me will forever burn with rage
and contempt,for somebody who supposedly
loved Hanoi and Communism so much,my
question is why did she come
back to "her enemies" in America? That unanswered
question burns in my soul and to this day
I totally disrespect those that took part in
protests,riots,and especially the lowly cowards
that ran off to Canada or anywhere else to avoid
the war,like our current resident at
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue,a total
disgrace. How that man can send
men and women into harm's way without any idea
of what combat is and what it does to a teenage
mind and soul I'll never understand.
Still the war raged on,B 52's the biggest bomber in
The Air Force dropped thousands of tons of bombs
yet the supply line from Hanoi and
neighboring Cambodia were never cut.
Body counts kept climbing higher,the nightly TV news was now
broadcasting the war into America's homes
scaring families having loved ones in or
near the featured battleground.Newspapers brought home
harrowing stories of death and mutilation,began planting
the seeds of doubt and mistrust the beginning of the
end  of public support if there ever was any.
I was now the company commo cheif,
in charge of the radios used daily and nightly and
worked every night right up to the night before
returning to Cam Rahn Bay to out process.
A steel reinforced frame
covered by 8x10 timbers and railroad ties
then covered with sandbags became the
commo bunker where I would spend the rest of my year.
Somebody "requizitioned"
a portable TV and radio and every morning Pat Zajak who now spins
The Wheel of
Fortune,would scream Gooooooooood Morning Vietnam! Mail Call
was an eagerly awaited event,guys lining
up anxiously waiting  letters from home,some bringing joy
and some bringing heartbreak,
"Dear John" letters written by wives and lovers that
couldn't wait for their men to return resulted
in some horrific scenes.It took half a
platoon of men to disarm and subdue a
despondant GI who having gotten a dear
john from his wife,got totally wasted
on booze and began spraying bullets into the
air and everything else in his way.Luckily he was overpowered
without anybody getting shot,his life had
been cruelly destroyed by an adulterous uncaring woman.
Not only did the guys fighting to stay
alive suffer the trauma of violent battles and
nightly mortar attacks,they also feared
getting their own walking papers.
Small wonder so many guys turned to
drug or drink to drown the hell that had them in it's
iron fisted grip.My shortimers calendar
was finally becoming filled in and letters from
home brought me joy and temporary releif.
The war wasn't showing any signs of slowing down,
the maddening game of advance and retreat continued to be played by
unknowing and uncaring politicians safely back in
"The World" A roll of the dice meant life or
death depending on what unit was told to do.
Battle hardened GI's began
wondering whose side the bean
counters and policy deciders played for.We'd not
find out until much too late after
close to 58,000 names were etched into "The Wall"
America's tribute to a war gone
horribly wrong that continues to claim veterans some
30 plus years after the Fall of Saigon.

DUTY SLOWLY COMING TO AN END

My tour of duty was slowly coming to an end,
I was now a short timer feeling all the
superstitions others had felt on my arrival so long ago.
Instead of feeling good,I became more paranoid with each passing day,
So many guys had rotated stateside that it seemed
like half the guys were greenies who nobody trusted.It's 1 big game
old guys go home new guys come in the
same tragic cycle of life and death to keep
the politicians rich and funeral homes busy.
My trips to town began slowing dramatically,with each day
off the calendar I became convinced that I'd never make it
home.As convinced as I was 1 day
I threw caution to the wind,a gasoline tanker had
caught fire in our company area and like
a bonehead run toward it instead of away.
Nobody died thankfully but the truck
was a crispy critter and most of my hair was
singed.From that day on I became a
"single digit midget" meaning There were less
than 10 days until leaving Pleiku.I spent most of the time hiding
in the commo bunker,mostly half stoned on beer,too scared
to sleep in the hootch.I worked right up
till my last night in Pleiku,doing the traditional "tour"
of the hootches saying good bye to my brothers in blood,
each stop getting drunker and finally it was time to pack up,
clear post and on to Cam Rahn Bay,
this time on the going home side.After having
been in a hot zone for almost a year,
the relaxed cavalier attitude the guys there had
made me nuts! The first thing that
set me off was when I asked for an M-16 the
guy in charge laughed and said the rifles were locked up and
there was no need to worry,Charlie never hit.
I could have choked the guy but common sence took over.
I was now the gruff seasoned veteran scowling and bragging
to the greenies how they'd just love Nam,same as the going
home guys did to me a year ago,funny how
some things change,the names and faces,
the dance still orchestrated by the bean
counters and politicians. They actually expected
us to stand morning firmation like
you do in Garrison,Stateside! I always
found a place to hide,too furious to come out
afraid I'd go off on a "lifer", an unflattering
name associated with career soldiers that
did everything by the book,war zone or
not.See,at morning formation,there were like
100 guys all neatly lined up,a well
placed mortar round would probably kill most of
them,you couldn't tell those jerks,they were
the Sergeants,master of their domain.
It was finally time to board
The Freedom Bird,the most beautiful thing I'd seen all
year,not counting a little "lady" in Pleiku
that helped me temporarily forget the war.
The plane was finally loaded,no set
seating arrangement,Officers and Enlisted mixed
and mingled  with no reguard to policy,
we were finally going home! The Captain came
over the intercom and welcomed us
aboard,congratulated us on a job well done,the
wheels slowly beginning to turn,we all
counted down until the wheels lifted from the
runway,in unison we screamed
GOOOOOOD  BYE VIETNAM! the year in Hell was
finally over and we were on our way
.We made a stop at Yakota Air Force Base in
Japan to fuel up,Mt Fuji in the distance
a breath taking sight,almost as pretty as the
girls that surrounded us as we deplained.
A gruff old sergeant changed my
mind before I even said a word
.My eyes must have been bulging,he knew,she knew and
it was back on the plane for an
18 or 20 hour flight back,The Great Circle Route,up
over the North Pole over glaciers and snow
,I looked real hard but never saw
Santa Claus,oh well,there goes that theroy.
The sun rose and fell and rose again,we had
crossed The International Date line going to Vietnam and
now recrossed it coming home,meaning that we left on Feb.9,1969
and arrived in Seattle ,Washington USA
on Feb,9 1969,one war had just ended,
but another more sinister had just begun. This
a war fought not with rounds and
ammo,a war of wills fought against the very people
that had sent us to die in Vietnam,the beat goes on and on and on.

STATESIDE AT LAST

The tires hit the runway plane gradually coming to a stop,
The door opened and the sweetest smell in a year
filled my nose and lungs,AMERICAN AIR! We were finally
HOME! The bright sun blinding me at
first walking down the stairs from The Freedom
Bird,I stopped and bent down and kissed American Soil
for the first time,an Army Major following me did the same,
I turned to salute him now that we were no longer in
a war zone,he slapped my hand away and
we hugged with so much joy. The next
thing that greeted my unbeleuving eyes
were hundreds of long haired assholes with
anti war posters and signs screaming at
us calling us murderers and baby killers!
They climbed the fences like monkeys spitting
and cursing at us,a shaggy haired
aweful smelling idiot made the huge mistake of grabbing me,
his face became part of the fence and my foot went up
his sorry ass so hard I thought we'd have to go to the
hospital to get my right foot out of his ass!
A smiling MP just looked the other way
as other homecoming  veterans repeated
my jesture.This was only the beginning of
what would become a long hard battle
that to this very day continues.We wore our
Jungle Fatigues back and were hustled to the barber
for a haircut,measured and fit with Class A's,
Summer weight dress uniforms and brand spanking low quarters,our
jungle boots and fatigues tagged,bagged,and
returned to us after dressing.
There was supposedly a free steak dinner for
all returnees but all I wanted to do was call
home and hear My Parents voices,oh how
sweet it was,Dad sounded so proud,Mom
cried and we said bye,it was off to
The Air Terminal and trying to find a flight back to
Bradlee Field in Windsor Locks,Ct.
What I didn't know was that there was a major
blizzard raging from Washington DC
all the way to Maine,no flights past Chicago!
Luckily a seat was available on a late night flight
to Chicago O'Hare and I fell asleep,
the sleep of pure joy knowing there weren't
enemy mortars and rockets waiting to kill
or mame.Arriving at midnight,a cabbie promised to get me
to the Greyhound Terminal where a driver promised to wait for me.
The cabbie refused payment and as
I walked away,he came up and shook hands,saying his son too
was in Vietnam,tears running down his cheeks.
True to his promise,the bus was all ready to go,
I climbed aboard and almost fainted when everybody
on the bus stood and cheered,the driver welcomed me home
and aboard,the long ride home had begun.
Because of the blizzard,no airports
were open and I got to see our beautiful country
through the windows of that bus,we finally
got to Philadelphia and found the highway
barely passable,snow drifted into small mountains,cars
and trucks stranded in the snow. Finally reaching
New York City where the snow continued falling,once again
it was a wild ride to Grand Central Terminal
and the train ride to Connecticut where
My Father and Brother met me with
a panel truck,what they now call a van only it
was big and plowed right through
the foot deep snow. My nearly round the world
journey had finally ended,I was Home At Last!

The Dawning of The Age of Aquarius

Dear Susie,this ends my stroll down
memory lane,I just couldn't coax anymore
out,after war,civilian life being scorned and hated was still a war
but not one you could shoot ,still today over 30 years later
we're treated like lepers,mistakes,you name
it.58,000 plus names on The Wall in DC for what?
 

My 30 day leave over I reported for duty at
Ft.Hood,Texas,largest Armor Center in
the Free World.This was going to take some
real adjustment being a Yankee in
Big Tex.The war behind me and now back
to the total bullshit of Garrison Duty back
in The States,timeline early 1969 Nam
still the raging meatgrinder killing teenagers
before they even have a chance at life
.Never having worked at my MOS or Military
Occupational Skill,the Army in it's
infinite wisdom sends me,an engineer,to a place
full of tanks and armor divisions,where am I assigned?
1st Armored Division! So now
having survived a real shooting war
here I am playing "war" with the 1st AD in Texas!
After having a belly full of that I put in a
1049,request to be transferred to an engineer
outfit,after a few weeks the transfer
comes down I'm now assigned to D Co 63rd
Engineer Battalion,same as the 815th in Nam
only here theres no green shit and
mortar attacks.The anti war anarchists still
spouting their bullshit,nobody trusting
anybody in a military uniform,people
calling us murderers,baby killers and all kinds of
crazy things,guys never been to the
Nam scared shitless of going,those that have
been trying hard to find somebody to
talk to or listen to,a totally confusing mix,lots
of bad feelings. Things not too bad now,finally
get a chance to do what I signed up for
in the first place,operate heavy
construction equipment.I begin OJT working with an
experienced operator,we become friends,
I learn he goes to Nam.I have 16 months of
my enlistment left and make the best of an unhappy situation.
Finally the day I've been waiting for,July 30,1970 ETS,I'm outa there!
My brother and my ex girlfriend,now his future wife
meet me at the airport,true to form I'm hammered and
the long ride to New Hampshire is quiet.Finally
getting to breathe "non army air is
a total rush,I spend a month just basically
getting blasted day and night,My Brother
and I sizing each other up like 2 dogs ready
to fight,he knows not to piss me off,he
did once too often when I was on
Christmas Leave and my fist met his nose,he don't
push it any more,smart thing. It's time to go
home,back to Naugatuck,start life after
the army and Nam,funny thing happens
when I get home,people I 've known for all
my life now act nervous and unfriendly,
act like I'm a criminal,can't figure out what I
did,real strange.I find a job driving a truck,
work like hell all day get high at night.
Seems like the only peace I find comes
from a large quantity of cold beer,nightmares
and flashbacks torture my sleep,parents
don't understand,I wake them up screaming
and swearing at the  VC trying to kill me
.I join the volunteer fire department and the
ambulance corps,now working for
The Town Recreation Department,bust my butt all
day,hang around the firehouse and the VFW ,
life gets better,too busy now to worry.
It's now 1972 Nam still  happening but much slower than the 60's,mood
of the country is terrible,Nixon in trouble and nobody wants to be a
Republican or know one. Still being treated like
yesterday's hash,lots of Namvets feeling the pain,nobody
wants to hear it,The VA is the biggest shock
,they refuse to admit that we have big
problems,accuse us of looking for a free ride
.War ends finally in 1975,Vietnamization
fails miserably,Saigon falls to the NVA,
America hates all Vietnam Veterans,all the
proud veterans of "The real wars" call us
losers and worse,guys get punched out
Veterans hating veterans,drinking now just to keep my head
on straight,temper getting real short and real bad,
looking for an excuse to kick somebody's ass.In total despair lots of
Namvets hang together not trusting anybody,TV,movies,stories all
portraying Namvets as murderous
drug addicts,psychopaths,the most disgusting
people are all Namvets and still the
VA ignors the problem,guys can't take it,good
men swallow pistols to end the torture,
my rage building,bottled up in my head.
For close to 20 years Namvets are the scum of the earth,not
to be trusted,discriminated against in hiring,"
Don't forget Hire the Vet",yeah right! Finally
a small speck of light at the end of the
tunnel,enough Namvets are making such a
fuss that politicians start to listen,albeit painfully slow.
Life is a little better,so called
friends still afraid to shake my hand,will Nam rub off?

Submitted to me by Author Nam1968Vet@aol.com

Not to be copied except by permission of both parties
Nam1968Vet@aol.com
SusieA1114@aol.com