Sitting in the hospital, trying to get over my malaria, I conversed with the Vietnamese nurse. She has no idea who I am but knows I have something to do with fighting. We became friends and talked all day before she went home. After a while, I realized she asked a very lot of questions. One day, she asked me to go to town for lunch when I regained my strength. She asked me to go to the American PX and buy six cartons of cigarettes for her; she gave me a ration card, which, in the infantry, I had never seen. The following day, she got me up to go to town again and buy more cigarettes; I bought about thirty cartons with many different ration cards. The next day, I was too sick to go anywhere, but I went with her girl persuasion, ill or not, that afternoon. Again, cigarettes by the cartons, but things go very wrong. In my last six cartons, the MPs grab me and handcuff me. They started asking me questions about who I was buying the cigarettes for and why. I told them a nurse at the hospital was a good friend. One MP pulled out a picture and asked me if it was her; dam, yes, it was. Mp tells me you are lucky to be alive; she will get you to go home with her and never return. They unhandcuffed me, gave me the cigarettes, and told me to bring them to her, and they would have her arrested. Don’t get nervous were their last words. I walk out of the store. I see her looking at me as if she senses something wrong. As I walk up to her, handing her the cartons of cigarettes, everything goes wild; a motorcycle jumps onto the curb. She jumps on the back as police and MPs come from all directions; the man on the bike opens fire with a pistol, the police open up, bullets flying everywhere, the bike flips over, and the girl and guy are lying in the street. The girl is dead; the man struggles to his feet but is shot dead. I walk over to see this pretty woman dead, a so-called friend; somehow, even knowing she most likely hated me, I had an attachment. The MPs drove me back to the hospital. I was weak and very sick, but the thought of the woman would not leave my mind. The following day, I felt better walking to the chow hall. A young Vietnamese man befriended me in the line again. All hell breaks loose; he is quickly brought to the ground and arrested. The MPs told me he was the girl’s brother, and they both were NVA spies. I told the doctor I needed to get back to the jungles before I got killed.

” I often wonder why killing each other to gain nothing seems to be the answer so many times.”