In the breakfast room of a hotel in Missouri this morning I watched a dignified black gentleman. His demeanor said he was military.
"Did you serve in the Far East?" I asked.
"Yes, I did. Navy."
"Vietnam?"
"Yes."
"Were you there for the Tet Offensive?"
With that question he entered a world of memory alive in his mind. He told of close, personal combat in the battle for Hue.
I noticed the entire room was listening to our conversation.
"Do you think about it every day?"
"Oh, yes. Especially how Americans treated me when I came home. The sneers, the names they called me..."
His voice trailed off.
"I served my country, I obeyed my President, and I'd do it again."
I told him about my friend that spent 8 years in the Hanoi Hilton who came home to a divorce and the taunts of "Baby Killer."
"I know how he felt," my new friend said.
"Please let me apologize and thank you for fighting for my country--for my family."
"Thank you. Somebody else said that to me yesterday, too."
"America has changed. We are running out of people like you."
We parted quietly both having a sense of having been in each other's hearts for a few moments.
I didn't get his name--wish I had.
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