My husband was drafted in the height of the Vietnam war. He spent one year walking in dirty, foal rice paddies. He ate sea rations left over from WW1. He witnessed gross mutilations of his buddies and other fellow Americans. This is only the beginning of the story.
He could have run away to Canada like some Americans did. Instead, he stood tall and reported for duty. When he came home, he was called names and was the brunt of many insults because he chose to honor his country. I am very happy that our country’s attitude has changed, and my husband is alive to see the honor and be recognized for his sacrifice.