This book was written by my father, James, a Vietnam War veteran, many years ago. It languished, hand written, in three dusty notebooks that sat undiscovered in a closet. I do not know when he wrote this story, as I never knew it existed until I decided to write a novel of my own. When I showed off my story, self-published after being soundly rejected by a host of literary agents, my father's interest was piqued. In ill-health after a decade long battle with cancer, he practically jumped out of bed to go look for these notebooks and show off his work. He had long had an interest in writing, and a dream of being a published author, but never managed to turn those dreams into reality. Like many other people, he had been busy raising a family, running a business, and living his life. I had hoped to transcribe his book and have it published, gifting him a hardcover copy for Christmas, but he never made it to the holiday season, passing away in late August. I decided that I would go ahead and publish the book anyway, posthumously fulfilling his dream of being an author. I hope you enjoy reading this, and I also hope that a piece of my dad will live on in his writing.
