War is always a profound experience, especially for an adolescent. Even for those who do not experience battle, just being in a combat zone and knowing that what you are training for constantly can materialize at any moment leads to a hightened awareness and a knowlege that you are part of something so much bigger than yourself. It changes you most profoundly. Not a day goes by that I don't remember that time.

I was on active duty in the Navy for only about a year, most of which I spent on a destroyer conducting combat patrols on Yankee Station, just off the coast of the DMZ between N and S Vietnam. We also spent two months off the DMZ between the Koreas after the Pueblo Incident. We never fired a shot in anger, and we were never fired upon at all. The closest we ever came to action was when enemy aircraft would sortie and probe our defenses, looking for weakness, but they always withdrew when they felt our sensors tracking them.

For those who actually experienced combat, particularly those who saw death and experienced crippling fear and panic close-up, I can feel only awe and respect, and a deep sense of humility. I think I understand why my wartime experiences are treasured and fondly remembered, one of the significant experiences of my life, forty years later, while they only wish to forget theirs. At least, I hope so.

You can be assured when I fondly reminisce about my Navy days (and I know I have a tendency to bore people to death with my sea stories), those who choose not to speak are always in my mind. I apologize to them if I stir up those muddy waters, I didn't really pay the dues they did. But I do recognize that they did, and I am grateful to them.