When my grandfathers were in their late teens, they fought one another in the war to end all wars, WW I. My German Forefather loved Germany and he served the Kaiser until he came to Texas and became an American. My Dad's dad served in the American Army because he loved and protected this country, his mother and the right for people to, self, determine their destination. When the Germans were busy sinking American ships in the Atlantic Ocean, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and the following day, Monday Morning, my dad joined the U. S. Army and defended this nation for the following twelve years, ending with six years in the U. S. Air Force. I joined the Army on my seventeenth birthday, January of 1962 and my dad was so upset and kept telling me that I was, perhaps, going to die, a young man, if I did this. Knowing that dad has fought the Pacific War through two years of occupation and the history of my grandfathers, remembering the sons of my German born but proud American grandfathers sons, two in the Pacific and one dying in France fighting the Germans, I felt like I loved this country, what it stood for, then, my mom and dad and like my dad and both granddads always said, “If you love a thing or a person, you're willing to die for it.” And so it was with me when I volunteered to fight for the freedom of the little people of Southeast Asia. So, where is the America I grew up in?