There was a old Grunt that hung around the bank.  He always wore an old Marine overcoat and I used to give him money for beer; not as a hand out, but because he was a brother and deserved it. I bought him a sleeping bag that I'm sure got traded for booze and made sure he had Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. On the Marine Corps' Birthday we went to lunch and all the suited-up people would clear out from around us. I've been thinking about him all week since he died and was going to ask Woody to write a poem in his behalf, but when I read the other two the words came out in about five minutes.  Khe Sanh ruined his life, and I don't think he ever asked for any help.  When reading the obits, I found out he was six years younger then I am and I always thought he was an old, old man. I brought him in the bank on the eve of Y2K and we had potted meat, saltines and sparkling apple cider to celebrate New Years.

Ray