For nearly 2 long years I wanted nothing more than to be home with my wife and daughter. Then, the closest thing I had to home was a tent shared with two other men and the still, our lifeline. The closest thing to a family was the people I worked with each day, Margaret, Colonel Potter, Hawkeye, I could even call Charles family, if not then at least a friend at times. Now, I am home and whilst I lay in bed next to my wife, her dreams not filled with the death and destruction like those of mine, I have time to think, so here goes. When I got drafted, my brother, Chris, said that I would be home in no time, the Korean Conflict, as they called it back home, couldn't last much longer. Once in Korea, there was the simple act of changing a time on a piece of paper. Just because of those few different numbers, a family won't have to think of Christmas as the day their Daddy, husband, son, brother, whomever he was to each person died. And, now I'm home. I arrived at San Francisco International Airport, ran to greet Peg and Erin. Peggy hugged me, we kissed, she was crying but I knew she would never admit to it later. I reached to hold my daughter, who had grown from four months old to two years, and she buried her head in Peg's shoulder. I tried again, but she just held closer to Peg.