My father always explained things so I could see a picture. This was my first appreciation of war. What I learned was clear: Bad people started wars and Americans had to go to fight. I saw that whenever wars were started, some boys didn't come home. Part 1, Chapter 1, pg. 5

I knew that the city was segregated and that Negroes and Mexicans went to different schools. I'd just assumed this was because they were different and somehow not as good as white people. The only folks I ever met were white. Part 1, Chapter 1, pg. 20

I decided against making a commitment as a lifer - a twenty-year man. I'd be going to Vietnam for a year -- that was certain. And when I came home (when, not if) I'd have only eighteen months left to serve. I planned to go back to college, get a degree, and land a good...