I have so many memories in you as well as in my mind. I had a brother, who was paranoid schizophrenic. He had stepped on a mine in Vietnam, which led to his losing a leg, shrapnel wounds over his body, and a few other injuries, but the most devastating thing he lost was his mind. I think the environment of fear, death, the unknown, the disconnect from where he had come from, and God only knows what else led to his losing his mind after he stepped on a mine in Vietnam while he was doing Point. My brother was such a quiet, respectful young man before going to Vietnam, and I think the contrast and ugliness was just too much for his mind and soul to adjust to. Maybe I am not explaining it well, but what I am saying is that I think the harshness and ugliness of the War overshadowed his soft, gentle ways. When he returned to the States, I went to see him often in Philadelphia at the hospital when I lived in New York City. It was so sad seeing young boys, 18, 19, and 20 with either all four of their limbs gone or one or two or three gone. My brother was in a catatonic type-state when I was visiting. He told me a story, with his fixed, glossy, eyes looking up to the ceiling as he lay in his bed, that took my prevailing sadness of war to an even darker place. He sad that his unit was assigned to ‘take’ a hill so the Viet Cong would not get it, but his unit got to the hill, there were a number of their comrades—American soldiers—lying around, having been killed by the Cong with their penises cut off and stuffed in their mouths. It really affected me. His mind steadily deteriorated as the months and years passed. I pray for the day when there is no more War. Let us pray for that day. For those of you who might wonder what became of my beloved brother, he walked away from home one day to be found over a year later in the woods. I should say, his bones were found.