Eighteen months was the time I spent in a place called Vietnam. It's a time that will haunt me to my end - it's been a full part of my daily life ever since.  But those eighteen months were not all bad; I found a wonderful Montagnard people there. Wonderful, simple, kind people; gleeful, innocent children.

The fathers were warriors of the fiercest kind who watched over a lonely, stupid kid from the USA. I had a wonderful Montagnard friend who gave his life so that I might live. I'll carry that guilt to my grave.

I wish so much that he hadn't protected me, that he had let that bullet find its intended target: Me.

Eighteen months in a land of beauty and family and wonder, but minutes or hours of unbelievable horror. Months that left a sadness so very deep...and nightmares to fill my sleep.