I never spent much time in the EM club, drinking wasn't on my list with three alcholic step-fathers. I was drawn to pot, maybe it was the way music sounded or maybe it was the lack of a hangover that attracted me so much. Almost two years ago I posted an apology to my brothers for being a pothead while in Nam. Now that I have been clean for over eight years I can see that smoking pot made me no less a patriot than the man who drowned his woes in liquor. It was my medication to ease the pain and rigors of war. I used it for another 24 years before I finally let it go. Maybe I could have been a better soldier if I hadn't smoked it but I could not have loved my country more or my comrades less. This is an anniversary date for me as I lost two fellow crewmembers on this date in 1971 in the Au Shau Valley. It is hard not to wonder why I wasn't killed with them or why I was chosen to survive. I spend my anniversary remembering the goodness and wonder those two young men had brought into my life and celebrate their lives rather than mourn their deaths. Weather we drank or smoked it didn't change the fact that we were all brothers in a common cause, family that will remain family until the day we die. Hopefully we can pass on that sense of duty and family to our next generation, then we will have honored those who didn't come home more than any parade or monument. Remembrance is the greatest honor we can bestow on their memory.