1968

 A friend and I had lunch last week and the conversation turned to the year1968 when we served simultaneously, but hundreds of miles apart, during the same war. We were there for the year, I near Da Nang and he south of Saigon.

During May of that year some 2,415 of our brothers died.
2,415: That’s the most of any month during that sad war.
There were that many empty chairs at holiday gatherings next year from only one month’s insanity.
The year 1968 overall was the deadliest year for U.S. forces in Vietnam (16,899 deaths).
That’s just Americans. That’s just deaths. That’s 16,899 men who would never hold a child of theirs in their arms thereafter.
That’s just the year we were there.
We beat the odds, my friend and I. Sort of.
Do me a favor. If you find yourself getting sexually aroused when Pete Hegseth and Donald Trump talk about how hot-damned tough America is, find yourself a quiet spot, sit, take out a mirror, look at yourself, and say, “I am a complete asshole,” at least 2,415 times.
Because, trust me. You are.