On November 8, 1967, the author arrived at the Marine Corps Recruit Depot in San Diego, ill-prepared for the training and abuse that awaited him in boot camp. At the time, he would have done anything to escape; only upon reflection years later did he realize that the self-confidence instilled in him by his drill instructors had probably saved his life in Vietnam. A few months after boot camp, Private Ball was shipped out to Vietnam, joining F Company, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Marines, near Khe Sanh. As an infantryman, a grunt in the vernacular of the Corps, Ball, like the other youths of F Company, did a very difficult and deadly job in such places as the A Shau Valley, Leatherneck Square, the DMZ and other obscure but critical I Corps locales. His–their–fear of death mingled with homesickness. Little did they realize that the horrors of the Vietnam War–horrors that while in-country they often claimed did not even exist–would haunt them for the rest of their lives.
