battalion helped sustain. SupportVeterans
I’m eighty-two now.
I still visit Fort Campbell for Thursday chili.
But I rarely eat alone anymore.
Each week, a different soldier joins me at a table near the serving line.
Some are young recruits.
Others are experienced service members carrying losses nobody can see.
One Thursday, Tyler brought over a quiet eighteen-year-old private named Marcus.
His father had also served with the Herons and had died when Marcus was a little boy.
I told him about Danny, the hospital in Vietnam, and the little brass
