carrier off the coast of Vietnam. Three months out of boot camp. Scared of my own shadow.”
He paused.
“There was a fire on the hangar deck. A big one. Jet fuel. I was supposed to tow a plane clear of the fire. That was my job.”
He looked at the room.
“I froze,” he said.
“I sat behind the wheel of that tractor,” he said, “and I couldn’t move. My hands wouldn’t work. My legs wouldn’t work. I just sat there and watched the fire come at me.”
His voice cracked.
“I would have died there,” he said. “Thirty seconds later, that spot was nothing but fire.”
He turned and looked at me.
“This man climbed up on that tractor,” he said. “In the middle of a burning hangar bay. With
bombs on the bulkhead ten yards away. He grabbed me by the collar. He put his face in front of mine.”
