It was like I was in battle, and a barrage of weaponry was thrown at me, like misgivings, haunting memories, and tears that were so poignantly and strategically shot. I had no defense, and in my mind, I became a casualty of war, believing I was wounded, lying in a hospital bed, relieved to be safe and out of the war. When I got home, I left the war in Vietnam, and once I was on American soil, life started over. The past was the past. The challenge of the next fifty years was to keep it in the past. But that wasn’t always easy. I had nightmares that subsided only when everyday life challenges took precedence in our family. I had moments of depression and guilt and memories that filled the spaces brought on by scents, sights, and sounds. I couldn’t read stories about Vietnam or view Vietnam films or war movies. I kept them out of my life. I had fifty years of denial, but one day, God, whom I kept in my back pocket, pulled my past out and placed it before me, demanding that I confront it. I prayed, “My God, who am I? Please help me,” and the rest is history. I am still dealing with it, but I am at peace. My spirit was wounded; now I’m healed. My story has changed over the years, but now it has a happy ending. This story represents one soldier’s feelings during battles and the daily regimen of a soldier waiting to fulfill their 365-day stint in ’Nam. It is the story of one man’s true feelings frozen for fifty years.