.'.Daddy was a soldier.'.
.'.He taught me about freedom.'.
.'.Peace and all the great things.'.
.'.That we can take advantage of.'.

      My father was a military officer. He was my hero. It only took me a little while to decide I wanted to follow in his footsteps. I was recruited into the Deep Eyes and I met her. But she comes later. A year or so later I heard my father had been killed. They had found him...in his study, a knife in his stomach and a gunshot through his head. As you can imagine, I was crushed. Getting on with this...

.'.Once I fed the homeless.'.
.'.I'll never forget .'.
.'.The look upon their faces.'.
.'.As I treated them with respect.'.

      He took me into the city once with him. We had to deliver food to dozens of homeless families. Their faces lit up and I couldn't understand how someone with so little could act like they had so much. Now I think I can understand a little.
 

.'.This is my Vietnam.'.
.'.I'm at war.'.
.'.Life keeps on dropping bombs and I keep score.'.

      You'd think someone like me would have it easy, wouldn't you? Honestly I can't tell left from right. I'm surrounded by imperfections. Take my mom, for example.

.'.Mama was a lunatic.'.
.'.She liked to push my buttons.'.
.'.Said I wasn't good enough.'.
.'.But I guess I wasn't trying.'.

      Everything I did around her was wrong. I took an inch and slacked the tiniest bit, she bitched for days. It was amazing. After my father's death, no one was there to help me out with her. She blamed me, God knows why. She said he was in his study writing to me, and if I hadn't been away, he wouldn't of been in there. She's right in a way, I guess.

.'.Never liked school that much.'.
.'.They tried to teach me better.'.
.'.But I wasn't hearing it.'.
.'.Because I thought I was already pretty clever.'.

      Ah, school. A hellhole, as far as I'm concerned. I was too busy with my little gadgets and all to bother with algebra. I barely graduated high school. After that, I could pick my own college and actually pay attention in class.

.'.This is my Vietnam.'.
.'.I'm at war.'.
.'.Life keeps dropping bombs and I keep score.'.
.'.This is my Vietnam.'.
.'.I'm at war.'.
.'.They keep on dropping bombs and I keep score.'.

.'.What do you expect from me.'.
.'.What am I not giving you.'.
.'.What could I do for you.'.
.'.To make me okay in your eyes.'.

      Jane Proudfoot. Whether the girl knows it or not, she's the most important thing in the world to me. Yet for some reason, she hates me. At least I think she does. She doesn't feel the way I feel, that's for sure. I just wish I could tell her. Actually, I made a deal with myself-if we survive I'm telling her. I really hope we make it.
 

.'.This is my Vietnam.'.
.'.I'm at war.'.
.'.Life keeps dropping bombs and I keep score.'.
(.'.This is my Vietnam.'.
.'.I'm at war.'.
.'.Life keeps dropping bombs and I keep score.'.
.'.This is my Vietnam.'.
.'.This is my Vietnam.'.)