Whenever we found an injured Viet Namese child, whom we suspected had no immediate family, we would treat them and take them to an orphanage in Da Nang. Each trip we made I was touched and saddened by the extent of injuries to some of these children. They seemed so sad and confused, this was a war none of them asked for, nor wanted, yet here they were a victim of man's aggression.

The uncertainty of what was about to unfold, the future I had looked forward to, and yet, dreaded, was now here. The bus was beginning to fill for our short ride to the plane, our ride to War. The fear of the unknown was beginning to gnaw at my soul. What was to become of me, would this be my last memories of this world, my last vision of these United States.