Vietnam, 1970

The cigar’s smoke exhaled from the army officer’s lips, which hazed the humid room that he and Private Miller sat in. The young, blonde, big-bodied United States Army Private Miller tried not to let himself cough, for it would surely insult the superior ranking officer.

Now was not the time to be offending an officer of his status. The older man who sat in front of Private Miller wasn’t a field commander, or a strategic analyst… his job was investigative apparently. He probed into the many stories of Vietnam soldiers; sometimes for wartime PR, other times as a matter of military intelligence. In Private Miller’s mind, he didn’t know which.

It had been a few years since he graduated high school, and the death of his young best friend. Years since Charlene had moved away, and Glen was left to figure out life.

Figure out life.

He had a chance to play college football, but the scholarship offers didn’t materialize the way he had hoped, and he couldn’t afford higher education on his family’s income. Which only left him with one option, which was to join the blue-collar workforce with his dad at the factory.

Then Uncle Sam came calling a couple years later. In the throes of the Vietnam War, Glen was drafted as a young man in his early 20s, which tossed him into this situation.

This situation.

Private Miller and the intelligence officer were just outside the base commander’s office in a slightly more elaborate building. This hut, in particular, was usually reserved for important meetings or the occasional card game between General Stevens and his staff.

Today, it held Private Miller and Lt. Colonel Boyd Simms. Glen couldn’t believe the short amount of time to begin investigation for details into his recent three-day ordeal in the heart of Vietnamese jungle. A jungle infested with the enemy, dangerous animals, and disease alike.

On the other side of the room, the intelligence officer was grasping for answers.

Apparently, this Private Miller had become separated from his platoon and three days later, walked into the camp without saying a word.

“An interesting little story you should be telling me Private Miller. Why don’t you go ahead and start?” encouraged Lt. Colonel Simms who seemed almost enthused to hear about a solo trek through the dangerous odds of the Vietnamese Jungle.

Perhaps he has simply grown bored of hero tales about the “platoon leader who rescued a fallen radio operator.”

The true hint in Lt. Colonel Simms voice gave Private Miller the feeling that he had been anticipating this moment, perhaps even yearning for the time that Private Miller would reveal his story.

Glen didn’t quite understand the Lt. Colonel’s subliminal fixation with war stories, but it wasn’t his place to ask the questions… well, there was one question.

“Where do I begin?” Private Miller asked.