I was serving as an infantryman in the Americal Division in the mountains of I Corps, just a short helicopter ride from the Laos border, with my brothers, a resilient group hailing from all walks of life and the four corners of the United States. Most of us were 19- to 20-year-olds, draftees and enlistees with low draft numbers like me. I just had completed four months in triple-canopy jungle, with all the benefits of sleeping on the ground in the rain, including putrid smells, mud, hunger, and, yes, the North Vietnamese army.