I remember what it felt like, during the last two years of the Vietnam War, to go into town wearing my US Navy uniform. Often, I felt invisible. Sometimes, just silly. Frequently, I got the cold shoulder. A couple of times things got close to getting physical. I was called a “paid killer” at my neighborhood food coop by someone who couldn’t read the shoulder insignia that identified me as a Hospital Corpsman and noncombatant. He knew nothing about me, my job, my personal history, or my values.
On War (January 2013)
