I recall one rainy day when the chopper came and delivered a message to a soldier that his father had died. I watched the man lose all the color in his face; he didn’t say anything, just stood there looking into nothing; a tear ran down his face that made everyone look at him sadly. The Captian told him he would send him home, but he said no, I have no one now left at all; my mother is an alcoholic my father was my only connection to the world and the only person I am connected to. Many of his friends tried to console him, but he wouldn’t talk; he lived in a world of his own.

One morning I opened a can of vintage 1945 eggs and ham and placed them into my steel pot already filled with meats sent by families from the states with some hot sauce and special herbs from my c-rations (salt and pepper) with crumbled up bread from a vintage can of 1949. The smell was beautiful and inviting. The soldier that lost his father walked over and started talking to me, what are you cooking? GOD only knows I say, but it smells good, he laughs, yes it does, do have some extra, sure anytime my friend. I gave him some in his canteen holder, and he opened up talking to me about his dad; I waved off all that were trying to come and eat because they gave something to the pot. His story was sad, a mother that cared less and a father that couldn’t get his son and the endless court system.

He tells a story of how his father tried to take him from his mother, but the court system would always favor the mother even though she was drunk most of the time and hated his father. He ate the first canteen holder cup of food and asked whether there was any extra; sure I am not hungry eat mine, he readily accepted, I could see he hadn’t eaten much in the last few days. What am I going to do< i have no girlfriend, I have no place to go when I return home; in fact, where will home be? No family, I ask? None he replies. We talked for a while he ate most of the concoction. I think I said five or six words, and he spoke the rest.

A couple of days later, he received a letter from his mother asking him to come home; she needed him. He went to the captain, and he sent him home; I have often wondered how he made out; I was always terrible with names and numbers.