No, Grandma never had any fun in Vietnam. Unfortunately, Grandma never went to a party. At those times, I left her with Sam, Peter, or David to slug it out with the 1st Cav, or to burn a few villages with the Marines, or massacre a few hundred civilians with the Americal division. While I languished in the arms of a professional woman, Grandma carried body bags from a dustoff, wondering if I was in one. And while I never remember hearing a phone ring or the knock on a door, she lived in constant fear of either.
War is hell, period.
I returned from the war, a little older, a little wiser. I was stronger and bigger. When I saw my grandmother, I could not believe the change. She had aged ten years, was shorter, weaker, totally exhausted. Her black hair now thin and gray.