Although I experienced the horrors of combat, thinking about Bao’s experienced excited me; then, it made me sad because I recalled my buddies who died on patrol. I didn’t want to dwell on those memories and began to think about food. The best thing about flying was that the airlines fed you, and you could have a drink or two. When you ride the bus, there are few pit stops until you reach your destination. I was beginning to develop a headache as we reached the outskirts of Detroit and would have to wait until we reached Saginaw before I could purchase some aspirin and step into the shadows for a few quick hits on my pipe.
After I was drafted, I asked my dad what he thought about war. “You don’t have the balls to survive,” dad said, “All you’ve ever done is run and hide from everything. If you make it back, you can talk to me then.” “Go to hell,” I said and made a bee line for the door. That was the last time I said anything to him, and now he was dead and I wasn’t sorry about it. As I looked out the windshield, a light snow began to