A GREEN LIEUTENANT
A memoir of a Vietnam veteran
We left the candle lit tent and shuffled along the dark paths back to the office. I went to my desk to see if I had put everything away. I walked in and there was Smith, all alone, writing a letter home. I went over to my desk and grabbed the swivel chair and began pushing it toward his desk, noticing along the way that he was determined not to acknowledge my presence.

�Jay, I�m sorry. Here�s the desk chair. It�s yours. I didn�t mean to pull rank that way. I just got mad and let it take control. I don�t want to spend this particular night feeling that way.�

Jay was caught by surprise. His face contorted in confusion and then he smiled. �Thanks, Lieutenant� He stuck out his hand and we shook. I turned and walked out of the tent heading for O club and a night cap of scotch.

I held the tumbler in my hand, enjoying the amber color. I thought about the past month and how my emotions built without my realizing it. I thought of all the family Christmas�s past, remembered prized gifts, remembered the wonderful days afterwards when my friends and I would run from house to house comparing bounties and playing games. It had been a wonderful childhood and I was never more aware of that fact. I now recognized the importance of this season with a depth I could not have obtained without living through the experience. I murmured a toast to Dad, Uncle Ray, Uncle Bill and the soul of Uncle Bobby, those veteran heroes of my youth, and then to Uncle Cliff, his Tannenbaum, the rest of my family and the Christ child. Maybe the war would go on, but at least for this night I could let go of my anger.

Rose Bowl and New Year's Eve
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