Codename Litefoot Epilogue

Codename Litefoot "Epilogue"

Don't fight a battle if you don't gain anything by winning. George S. Patton, (1885-1945)

Codename Litefoot was written about things that happened in the mid to late 1960's, during a time of civil unrest in America and uncertainty in the US Military while our country fought an unpopular war in Vietnam. At a time just after we all lost our beloved President, John F. Kennedy, to several, more than one, assassins bullets.

My novel lists US Military bases, locations now closed and forgotten that I was stationed at during my enlistment: Sewart Air Force base, formerly located in Tennessee just north and outside of Nashville, adjacent to Smyrna. Mactan Air Force Base, located on open island in the Philippines, adjacent to the village of Lapu-Lapu and across the waterway from Cebu City. Both were US Air Force and combat support bases where I had been physically abused and mentally tortured, supposedly to harden me, as I was informed later, by and at the behest of the officers and NCO's placed in command over me. My novel also lists in-country, in Vietnam, US military bases, Ton Son Nhut, Long Bien, Bien Hoa, An khe and others, as well as combat support bases in other countries, like Thailand, that I was sent to and into to facilitate my missions, again all closed but not forgotten.

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For those of you who have already read my book: Thank you for purchasing and reading my novel. It took me 6 and 1/2 years of hard work to complete it while I attended and after I attended the Post traumatic stress clinics at several VA hospitals across America.

I am sure that many of you at this point are probably more than a little curious about what happened to Mr. Flynn, (his true name), not Flint; Major Lancaster (Howdy Doody), Captain Cornell, Colonel Dillon, Major Dunn, Gunny Davies, SSgt. 'Dennis' Buttons and the rest of those I worked with and for in the PI and in Vietnam. Many of these and other men's names have been changed in my book to protect their true identity. That being said, I did look for them, all of them and have continued to search for them even today. Unfortunately, as I have found, life, at times, no matter how hard we try to bring things together to a proper conclusion or find the evidence we seek, just doesn't allow for that closure. This happens, in my opinion, because others out there, people we never meet or know about, are working hard at someone else’s behest to make certain the questions and or stories don't have an ending or an answer. But hey, that is what HIGHLY-COVERT and TOP-SECRET mean, right?: NO WITNESSES, and certainly, NO ANSWERS!!... I guess both Dillon and Dunn meant what they'd said to me at Mactan and at Clark... You are probably wondering too about why my father treated me so badly while he lived. Well, as of August 26, 2008, I was at long last given that reason, by my mother. I will attempt to relate her story to you at the end of the following epilogue.

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Epilogue

The following is what I remember about what happened to me after I returned home, to the United States, after I separated from the service and what I could find out about those who were in command over me while I stayed in the US Air Force.

As hard as I've tried, I never was able to find out where Buck's body had been sent. I would have liked to have met his folks and visited his grave. Good men and good friends are hard to find and should be cherished if you are lucky enough to find either during our lifetimes. Buck was, at the very least, both of those. When I searched for him, the US Government wouldn't say where he was and actually said they'd never heard of him. And his family, the one he'd told me about, his folks that lived outside Atlanta, Georgia, didn't seem to exist either. In fact, Buck and his family seemed to have never existed, as I could find no record of any of them in that area.
Three months after I landed back in the United States, I received my under honorable conditions discharge from the United States Air Force. My footlocker, the special wooden one that I had made by one of the local Pilipino's, their slang, to ship my things home in, was received several weeks later, all but empty. When opened, I found only a pair of someone else's worn out and torn jungle boots and a torn US Navy raincoat. All of my personal belongings and any evidence, including any pictures or documents that I'd had that proved where I had been and what I had actually done while in Vietnam, were gone. According to the shipper, the United States Military, all of it had been stolen by thieves while still in the Philippines and all of it was now lost forever. Years later, I would find that this kind of thing was a common occurrence amongst my fellow returning Veterans.
The model of my B-36, the one I’d built at the Mactan Air Force Base hobby shop and all of its component parts, including 6 fox 40 engines, 2 jet engines, the landing gear and their retractable landing gear assemblies, all its handmade pressurized fuel lines and cells, the planes two remote control radios and its 16 servos, navigation and landing lighting, bomb bay door apparatus and handmade bombs, made of balsawood and flour bags, amongst all the other things it took to build and fly her were stolen, I believe, and I never saw them again.
My Hi-Standard quick-draw 22 cal. 6-gun, 9 shot pistol, all its boxes of ammunition, its cleaning kit and supplies, and its quick draw holster and belt, all the things I'd left at the Mactan Air Police station, were also never seen again. No one at Mactan Air Base seemed to know anything about any of them.
My brother, Dempster, not Dick, and I have never been farther apart as such to this day and he still never tells his friends about me or mentions me to anyone he knows.

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After a few years of being treated for PTSD, and other psychological and physical problems at the American Lake Veterans Hospital and then at various other VA hospitals across America, and after waiting long enough to calm down before I went, I returned to Tennessee and to Sewart Air Force Base to have a little chat with Mr. Flynn, the man that initiated and orchestrated my being terrorized, tortured and abused 24/7 while under his command, I looked for him. However, the base, by that time, had been closed and Flynn was gone. Therefore, and sadly, I never found out why Flynn wanted so much to see me treated the way he had or why he wanted me dead. Well, actually, I think I do know why he wanted me dead. It had to be because I wrote that letter to my Congressman about the bad treatment he'd ordered sent in my direction and caused him and and our squadron commander so much trouble. I am sure that letter ruffled a few feathers, but I never thought it had been enough of a jab for anyone to want to see me dead. But who knows at this late date. And of course, sadly, there was no way, supposedly, of locating Flynn. It is probably just as well. I am not sure what I would have done to the man if I had ever found him. Especially after all I had been through and after all the training I'd received in the PI and in Vietnam. That said, I would have knocked him on his ass for sure. Once at least, no matter how old he was. However, I did find several other things out while I was there. The things that happened to me at Flynn's behest made me realize that an officer can and will do whatever he or she wants to any person they have control over without restraint and without thought or fear of repercussion from their commanding officers. Why? Mainly, in my opinion, it is because their commanding officers don't want anyone knowing they allow such things to go on in their outfits in the US Military. This makes them accomplices to those criminal acts. In other words, it's the old, I'll cover your ass if you'll cover mine, and mumm's the word, kind of thing that is alive and well in the US Government and in the US Military that makes men and women think they can get away with abusing others of lesser rank. In addition, again in my now educated opinion, It's the officers, the so-called elite crown wearers, the ones that belong to the secret officer only sadistic societies and or clubs in the US military, that think they have the right to push the lower in rank around and especially the E-Grades, treating them like they are their own personal slaves, that cause all the trouble.

While I looked for Flynn in Tennessee I'd found that:

Sewart Air Force Base had been closed for some time and the building or barracks that I had lived in, if you want to call it that, while I existed in torturous torment there, the place I had hidden the Colt 45 pistol that I’d purchased to defend my life with, had been torn down by that time. And of course, that pistol was gone, lost forever. I guess I’ll never know if Flynn ever shot himself in the foot with it or not. One could only hope… But I still had more questions that needed answers so I kept looking into things.

Many of you are also wondering about;

What happened to both Major Lancaster and CWO Flynn for their conspiring to get me killed? All indications lead me to believe that Lancaster, (Howdy Doody), we’ll use that name, and Flynn, (his real name), and any of the others involved in my daily tortures were never brought up on charges for those crimes. In addition, I don't know anything about the US Government bringing charges against any of them for their bringing false charges against me when I returned to the PI in their efforts at getting me removed from the military. I am sure, now that they knew, since my training at Clark, that I wouldn't take any more bad treatment from them without a fight, they were afraid of me. I also realized that what they conspired to do to me was most likely done to get me out of their way before I could bring charges against them for their unlawful actions. Of course, at this late date, they’ve had forty years of my, required by the US Government, silence, to hide what they'd done. So, the questions stand, unanswered, still today. You are probably also interested in knowing if I actually yelled at Lancaster, the way I did in the novel. Or, if he allowed me to yell at him in front of the Air Police? You bet I did and yes, he did allow it. Why? Well, first of all, I wasn't in any mood or mental place that allowed me not to yell at him, and if you were in his place, watching me loom over you with a look that loudly said; If you even try to fuck with me I'll kill you, and or to possibly be charged with crimes against enlisted men serving under you, crimes you could go to jail for, how lenient would you be in your demeanor?

What happened to Lisa and the baby? What happened to her father, her accomplice, at the McChord Air Force Base Finance office? Well, I can't tell you anything about that either, sadly. Once a man gets out of the US Air Force he is refused information on any in-service personnel without a court order of some kind. Well, I never had the money to pursue it so it too fell to the wayside on my things to do list. I have never seen or heard from either Lisa, (LINDA, her true name), the baby, or any of her family since she left my parents’ home that day. And my pay, the money she and her father took from me, well, they got all of it while I remained in the military, as my pay never did get straightened out. Did she and her father go to jail for defrauding me out of it? I don't think so... At least no one ever said anything to me about it. Now that my book is out and the US Government has been made aware of things through it, you would think that someone in the Government would look into that little detail. But I won't hold my breath.

What happened to everything that I had been forced to leave at Mactan Air Force Base? No one in the US Government or US Air Force seems to know anything about any of it. It is like none of it ever existed. I wonder, has anyone ever looked at the US Air Force Stars and Stripes news paper archives to find the story about me while I was building my B-36 model at Mactan?

What happened to DICK? Well, he of course lived thanks to his never being in combat, and returned to the US. We certainly do not spend time together and do not treat each other like we are brothers. He actually treats me like he hates me. Jealous I guess... Yes, we barely tolerate one another, he never visits me and I never go to his appartment. His choice, not mine. Besides, his life is nothing like mine. I don't drink, smoke, or do drugs. I am married and try my best to live the life my country allows. I live with my 85 year old mother in her home with my wife and we take care of her as her care givers and maintain her home and property for her. My brother and sister just hate that. It might be a meager existence but it is stand up and honest and my mother needs me. My brother on the other hand lives alone, refuses to work and never helps my mother in any way around her place. My sister, well, she lives in an apartment she can't afford either and well the story goes on. Have you ever felt like you were holding up the world or that you were the one with your finger in the dike? I sure do.

These questions stand out above all the rest. If all that happened to me, if all the terroristic treatment and torture I endured and all the pain I suffered from being brow beaten every day and night, not to mention being attacked and beaten at the behest of my superiors at Sewart Air Force Base was supposedly sanctioned by the US Government and/or US Military.....

Why didn't they, why didn't someone, hell, why didn't anybody, just come to me and ask me to do the job for them?
Why treat me like an animal and have me beaten by professional boxers and others?
Why mentally terrorize and torture me every day and night?
Why make me look at them, the officers and others in charge of me, my own comrades in arms, like they too were the enemy? In short, why did I have to fight two enemies during that war just to survive?
Why did these men get away with it all?
And last but certainly not least, why have I had to hide the truth about what the officers and the men they commanded at Sewart Air Force Base, Tennessee, Mactan Air Force Base in the Philippine Islands, and at Ton Son Nhut Air Force Base in Vietnam did to me, for all these years? Someone should make allowances for or make laws that allow the truth to be told by any victim of abuses in the US military, no matter what document they sign or agree to sign, especially while under duress and or in defense of ones life or their safety?

I mean, come on now! Doesn't the US Military keep an eye on their officers in some way? Isn't there some kind of accountability.....to anyone? Or do these people, these out of control officers, have free reign over the men and women's lives they hold in their hands? One can only ponder that, for a very long time... That being said, It doesn't surprise me to hear that some officers got frag'd while they served their country in Vietnam. Not at all, not while knowing that other men with less tolerance than I had control of grenades and such.

If I had it all to do over again, would I join the US Air Force? Well, let me see.....
I do love my country, and would defend her and all she stands for to the death;

If I was still 17, Still high school stupid, and still not aware of what lay in store for me at the hands of my superiors,

I probably would.

Since then however, having learned about all the things that can go wrong in the military, and knowing how many officer and NCO assholes with exploding ego's there are in the US Military, I would have to say no. Not unless I had a college degree in military law... And then, only if I entered the Military as an officer...

However, after seeing how their men act and handle themselves in combat, I would join the US Marine Corp, an organization critically acclaimed for how its officers, all professionals, and its NCO's, and noncoms, again, all professional soldiers, treat its men. An organization that has a record and or history of winning wars while using time tested methods in the field.

Or then again, maybe I'd join the US Army Rangers and or one of their Sniper Teams, or the US Navy Seal Teams, and become a member of the best groups of men and women America has to offer. Anyway, I have never met any men or women from these services that I couldn't be proud of or proud to serve with. God Bless them all...

Today, I can only say that my superiors, the officers and NCO's of the United States Air Force, located at Sewart Air Force Base, Tennessee, and those who followed at Mactan Air Base in the Philippine Islands, and at Ton Son Nhut Air Base in Saigon, Vietnam; no matter what their agendas, no matter what it was they were trying to do or to hide from others’ eyes and ears in the US military or from the Vietnamese, acted very dishonorably. The men that treated me with such torturous dishonor should be found, prosecuted, and when found guilty, imprisoned for conduct unbecoming, if they still live.

Where did I go? What did I do after I got out of the service? Well, what does a warrior do after he fights his country's wars? He goes home? He tries to live a normal life? He tries to get a job? Well... BS, I hid...

Because there seemed to be no answers to so many things that happened to me during that time in my life, after I was released from the service, I basically hid out, living my life off the so-called grid, and sometimes in the forests of Washington State, for quite a while anyway. For Cover My Ass, reasons, I was always careful never to be where I was expected to be when I was expected to be there. I never lived at the addresses shown on my drivers licenses, never rented a place to live in my name, never had utilities in my own name or answered a phone while allowing anyone on the other end of that line an insight into where I was. Not for years. Why? Because I never knew in all that time if my days would end at the direction of someone who ordered or actually did those many bad things to me while I was in the military, men who didn't want to be found out. According to my mother and to other people who lived around the places my family lived, several men did show up from time to time looking for me. And at times, they'd arrived there asking for me when I'd just left. I am still very leery of anyone I don’t know that approaches me.

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How has the US Veterans Administration and its associated VA Hospitals treated me since I got out of the service?

You will recall from my book that I was told by my Air Force doctor at Clark Air Force Base that I would never be able to work for anyone in civilian life based on the treatment I had received from my superiors while in the service. Since my separation from the US Air Force, thinking that doctor was full of it, I tried to work for others and attempted many, many different types of business ventures to employ myself. None have worked out or didn't last for long, not really. Why? Well, I had a habit of knocking the men or anyone that abused me, in one way or another, on their asses, and that made getting and keeping a job hard to begin with. In my opinion, more of this kind of thing should happen to more employers. You know the ones; the bastards that ignore you on the job, treat you like you are a piece of something under their shoe, speak to you in a demeaning and belittling tone and embarrass you in front of others just so they can feel like a big man. And, if you are a woman, the ones who grab your ass when you walk by or look down your shirt or up your skirt while leering and breathing hard. You know who they are.

Well, anyway, after having so many problems adjusting to civilian life and trying to work, unsuccessfully, after I got out of the service, at my doctors direction in the PI, I applied for percentages of disability through the Veterans Administration in Seattle. I applied for PTSD, Unemployability, Agent Orange caused skin disorders, migraine headaches, panic attacks, flashbacks, worsening back problems and more, but have been consistently denied payment of any kind, except for my back injury. For that I receive 10% disability, and receive about $117.00 a month. However, that has only been paid for a couple of years now. And I had to go to a hearing in Seattle in front of a judge to get that. During that hearing I had a flashback right in front of the judge, and after recovering, coming back to the here and now of things, I was made to continue to testify. Even so, I was still never given a dime or any percentage of disability for having the problem of flashbacks.

Now, after supposedly having to wait forty years, to protect someones rear end, an officers ass I am sure, I have finally written and published my novel and I am telling the world about what happened to me at Sewart Air Force Base, Mactan Air Force Base and at Ton Son Nhut in Saigon, the basis for my claims at the Veterans Administration. In my opinion, I no longer have to prove a D_ _ _ thing to the US Veterans Administration and at my age I no longer fear what they could do to me for telling the truth about what life was actually like for me in the US Air Force while I served, especially now that the story has been made public. Instead, they, the US Government and the VA need to explain to me, why I am not being recognized for and paid for my service-connected disabilities, PTSD for one, my worsening back problems, unemployability after being tortured, migraine headaches, and Agent Orange caused disorders for others from being in combat or not. Because I have been treated all these years at Veterans Hospitals around the US for all these afflictions, I believe that I should be given percentages of disability based on the impact they have had on my life. Most of all, the VA and the US Government need to explain why I was Physically and Mentally Tortured and Physically Beaten at the behest of my own officers and NCO's, and why those people were allowed to conspire to kill me, and lastly, why all those men haven’t been brought up on charges for conspiring and attempting to do it. As far as I know, all those things, those acts of aggression against me, are against the laws of my country. ???

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OF COURSE, IN MY OPINION, trying to deal with the United States Veterans Administration or US Government when trying to get information or to collect what is truly owed to me for my service connected disabilities is like trying to purchase something with a one-sided coin, one that is provided by the US Government, of course, when a two-sided coin is required... It simply can't be done... Its akin to placing a foreign coin into an American vending machine, it just doesn't work. After all, it is the US Governments game, being played on their court, in what they term as their, not my, country, and come hell or high water, because they have the so-called power, the game will be won by them regardless of the Veterans military-service-caused-sufferings in life or the illegal or unlawful use of power their officers wield in the military. So much for Government promises of support for serving in America's Military. Now let me see, where is that one-sided coin? Oh yeah....

All that being said;

In 2004 a supposedly lost record of mine was found just by chance by some unknown clerk, a document that placed me in Saigon on temporary assignment, TDY. It was found just after another Vietnam Veteran signed a statement that said he had seen me at Bien Hoa and at Ton Son Nhut, Saigon, during that time. But that statement only covered my being in country for a short period, about 20 days. However, that did make a document, one that had been supposedly lost until then, mysteriously reappear. It was after that that the US Government gave me ten percent (10%) disability for my back injury, the one I suffered while I was in Ton Son Nhut Air Force Base, Saigon, in 1967.
My hip, the one I landed on and injured in Vietnam when I jumped from that C7A-Caribou, when I was to meet my pilot, was replaced in 2005 at the Veterans Hospital in Seattle, WA, all at no cost to me. During that surgery my teeth were knocked out, I was overdosed every day and night until I left that hospital and my right leg is now 5/8ths of an inch longer than the left. I receive no compensation for suffering with chronic back pain associated with my legs being different lengths or having to wear specially made shoes or for having my teeth knocked out. The VA does pay for my shoes having to be altered, however and does give me pain pills. IBUPROPHEN... Gee, thanks... Now, now that my book is out, they are talking about sending me for an MRI on my back and then to the Neurosurgery clinic. We'll see where that leads. I was actually allowed to get an MRI and was sent to a far less than desirable so-called surgeons office for an exam. When I arrived there, the doctor didn't have any information on my MRI and could do nothing for me. Now this man was on top of things. His male nurse even threatened me during my exam, telling my wife an I that I had better get along with him and the doctor because the doctor might be putting a knife to my back in the future and I would want him to be my friend and to be on my side of things with the VA if an when he did. PASS!!! This is the kind of doctor the VA hospital in Seattle sent me to. My GOD! MORE LATER.
I had surgery at the VA Hospital in Arkansas where VA surgeons removed growths from my face for contaminations of Agent Orange, areas on my face that today will still not heal, but I receive no compensation for having Agent Orange caused illnesses or problems. My listing on the Agent Orange US government registry is AO-1R, whatever that means.

As to my father and why he treated me so badly while he lived... WELL, I had asked that very question of both my parents for years, all my life actually, at least the life I can remember, never once getting an answer, not one that made any sense anyway. I'd even asked my mother if my father was in fact my father on many occasions, always being told that he was. As for why I had been treated like I didn't belong in my family by my father, well, no, I never got an answer, not until just yesterday. And I didn't even ask the question. My mother simply told the story like she had told it many times before to a deaf, dumb, and blind audience. Like it was just some bit of dripped water rolling off her plastic raincoat-covered back. To say the least I was stunned, but this is what she said to me.

When you were just a boy, she said, your father left us, all of us; me, your brother, your sister, and you, alone in California, while he went to Germany as ordered by the US Army. He was a medic, a male nurse, and was sent there to command a medical train at a place near Hurkst where we were to live located just outside Frankfort. Shortly after he arrived there he met and fell deeply and madly in love with a German woman, a beautiful woman who was known back then as a large breasted blond bombshell. By the time we were supposed to leave for Germany, my mother said she hadn't heard from my father in over two months. She said we had no money to travel to New York where we were to catch our military flight to Germany and where we were to meet him and no gas for the car to get us even to New York. She said she had to borrow $150.00 from her boss at work to get us there. When we arrived in Germany my mother had only $5.00 to her name and found my father broke. He had apparently spent all his money on his German bombshell girl friend before we had arrived. The next day she was given a refund for our traveling expenses by the US Military and we survived. As the story went, that my father, had to break up with this German woman after she inadvertently saw my mother and his three kids. He, my father, was apparently devastated by her leaving him. He apparently lay in bed for a week before coming out of his stupor and has, according to my mother, hated his children all his life, for having to give her up. Huh... And why wait until I was over sixty to tell me all that anyway? Well, that story explains some things but certainly not all. It certainly doesn't explain why he treated me so badly while treating my brother and sister like they were gods in comparison, and why did he train both of my siblings to treat me like I have always been less than they?

Lets talk about what is happening today in the US Air Force.

FYI: Today, the United States Air Force is supposedly a much-changed machine, or at least since the turn of the century anyway. It is now purportedly an entity that teaches all its Officers and NCO'S very well in the proper methodology of managing and training men and women, with respect and as a team, while at the same time treating them more like human beings rather than numbers or things. Today, unlike what happened to me while I was enlisted, no one person is supposedly singled out by any other man, woman or group for any reason. Not without an awareness of legal cause or lawful need by all concerned. Why, you ask? Because of an enlistee’s awareness, these days, of the presence of the Judge Advocate General’s office, an education in itself, and an awareness of the laws governing their superiors in the service. Therefore, if they are still in the United States Military, men like Flynn can no longer do to their men and women what he and others at his command did to myself. SUPPOSEDLY... And if you believe that, I have a huge cat’s eye marble, a one of a kind, a glass ball that I can sell you for fifty million dollars, just because I say it is worth it. And of course, you are stupid enough to buy it. Right???

Serious question for todays military bound young men... Why are so many men and women returning from Iraq and other countries only to commit suicide after they arrive home? How are they being trained or treated that would make them want to end their lives once they get out of the service? What could possibly cause so many people to be so out of control when they re-enter our society? And why are so many of our men and women not being treated by the Veterans administration hospitals like the hero's they are by being supported by the US Government when they get home. If you have that answer, please write me an e-mail. Inquiring minds want to know... litefoot@codenamelitefoot.com.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED READING: For all US Military officers, enlistees and draftees: EVERYBODY IN THE US MILITARY! A copy of the (UCMJ) Uniform Code of Military Justice, paying special attention to the (UCMJ) section that covers lawful orders... FYI: Any private or military person (GI) can read these rules and laws of the military absolutely free of charge at any library or US military base at any time. If someone says you can't, just you let me know. I'll be the first one to demand a Congressional Investigation into the matter.

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Just a note for those who suffer with PTSD:

Writing the book took over six and a half, (6 1/2), and almost seven (7) years of hard, gut-wrenching at times, work. Days and nights of profusely sweating and or crying while sitting in a chair in front of a notepad, typewriter or computer, while reliving the things in my past in my mind that torture me still today, sometimes never being able to write a single word. After reading what I had typed or written, I realized that, at times, I had written something other than what I'd thought I'd written. VA PTSD clinicians and psychologists tell me that this is a common thing when allowing one’s self to think outside the box just to get it all out. Believe me, telling the story as it happened was hard, very hard, but I did get it out, finally. Some of those bad memories are gone now, only to be brought from their hiding places in my mind when thought hard about, not that the memories aren’t still very fresh in my mind, because they are. Most of what I remember is like looking into or through an open window, seeing everything that happened to me every day and night very clearly with very sharp images, like I am still there, living it all over again in real time. However, I must say that writing the book has allowed me to let a lot of what was tearing me up inside, go. To a degree anyway. I cannot tell you that this will work for you but I still recommend this so-called therapy to every person who suffers with PTSD. Somehow, writing it all down released some of my recurring flashbacks, nightmares, dreams, and associated memories. Today, when I think about all those things, about how badly I had been treated, about how tortured I felt in my mind all the time, and how betrayed I felt by my supposed comrades in arms, my own superiors, they seem to have less of an impact on me. Of course they are not completely gone and the betrayal I felt then, I believe, will never leave me. I sleep better now, although not all night. I still have nightmares and flashbacks now and then, brought on by who knows what: a smell, the sight of a flower, dust floating in the air, a pond of water, blood, an accident where people’s bodies are torn apart, a water buffalo at a zoo, a stand of bamboo, an elephant, white birds, just things. I am still watchful of every sound, smell, and movement around me thinking in the back of my mind that some unknown assailant, someone who would want to keep my story from being told, might still attack me. I try to trust people now but still keep a watchful eye on what they do to me or say around me. And I am always on guard for an attack from any direction. I even sit with my back to the wall in any room while facing an exit, entry, or window. But hey, that's just me, ya know. We all, as Veterans, have some quirk or other, some fear we live with every day. If you are a Veteran, I hope yours, your quirks, your demons, your fears, are kind to you and I wish all of you a better existence in our world. God bless you all and I say, "WELCOME HOME!" TO ALL VIETNAM VETERANS, the men I fought with. I say again, "WELCOME HOME!" Remember, this is our country, the USA, and we deserve to be treated better by every living soul that resides in it because we fought to keep everyone in it, including our government, safe and free.

I need to know how many of my books are being sold out there. If you purchased one, from someone other than myself, please send me an e-mail, send it to litefoot@codenamelitefoot.com, and let me know where you purchased it. Thank you...

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