"Well, that was the last time we were all together. Junior's time was up and he went home, but his war was only just beginning. Word was he joined the Black Panthers six months later, and was killed in a shootout with the FBI in Long Beach, California. All that fighting in Vietnam just to get shot down by his own government. Rest in peace, brother. Hoss signed on for another tour and after that I was told by some drunken CIA spook that he'd moved on to fight in Laos or Cambodia. I guess after that he just drifted from warzone to warzone, always looking for that combat thrill. Ragman got home to an empty house and divorce papers. I wrote to him, but he just seemed to vanish. Until one day I got word that he was living in a cabin in the Rockies with his dog, Ho Chi Minh, seemed to have found his peace. He deserved it. Me? Well, I joined the ER at New York Central. My experience with gunshot wounds was highly valued as the inner cities were torn apart by drugs and guns. I married and raised a family, a respected doctor. But even now part of me is in Vietnam. Where Doc was born, and Cherry died. The war may be over for the generals and politicians, but for those who fought, the war goes on every time we shut our eyes and try to sleep. But fuck it. It don't mean a thing, right?"