By the end of June 1966, I was married, and my brother was planning his college graduation which would take place in just a few short weeks. I didn't think life could get any better. Then to the horror of my parents, a letter for my brother, who was twenty-one years old was delivered the Monday after his graduation. He, like thousands of other young men, was being drafted. He reported for duty. My friend Eddie had the same situation but one year later. Being only seventeen when he graduated from high school, he didn't get his notice until his eighteenth birthday. My brother and Eddie saw their share of battle and horror. When my brother came home, I honestly believe that part of his mind stayed in Vietnam. He had nightly nightmares. Eddie, on the other hand, didn't make it home. I still remember the day, while visiting my mom, I slid open her living room window and saw a green Jeep pulled to a house a few doors down the street. We hurried downstairs and sat on the front steps of our apartment house and soon heard Eddie's mother's screams. “My boy! My boy! Oh my God, My boy!” Her sobbing wails still echo in my mind, even after all these years. The entire neighborhood attended Eddie's funeral. Yes, my brother attended. He thought it appropriate, but he didn't wear his uniform. He attended as Eddie's friend not a fellow-soldier. Frankie thought, that while Eddie was having a military funeral, his parents didn't need to see more uniforms around, especially on a friend who made it home. I can still see him hugging Eddie's mom and she hung on to him fiercely as they both cried. Ironically, Eddie's parents and mine were best friends while they were teens. I guess it just made sense that Eddie and I would become close friends. No, we weren't a couple – we were just a couple of kids who were friends and hung out together. We both loved to have fun and very often would listen to my small transistor radio and with the rest of our friends, sing (or try to) whatever song was playing. Our voices were loud, VERY loud, but all too often, off-key. Didn't matter. We were having fun. Eddie always wore a watch and on weekends, could be seen checking the time regularly. Saturday night was a “date night” for his parents and Eddie being the wonderful son he was, made sure he was home by 7PM to take care of younger brother so his parents could go out and catch a late movie. That was Eddie – full of life, laughter, and love. He was a friend to everyone who knew him. He never had one bad word to say about anyone. He was kind, compassionate, loving, and eager to smile. He, like so many others, was too young to die. Eddie died on May 21, 1969, and even though it's been fifty-four years, he's never been forgotten, not by his family or his friends. We think of him often and while we're all proud of him and the sacrifice he paid for his country; we are also bitter because he was just a kid - “just another casualty.” As far as I'm concerned, he was not then, is not now, and never will be “just another casualty.” Just like other families and friends, I will never, I repeat NEVER consider Eddie's name “just another name on the wall.”
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