The Greatest Country in the World  Part 2

The Greatest Country in the World

by

Louis Lopez

© 2023 by Louis Lopez.  Written in 1979.

All rights reserved.  It is allowed to reproduce and distribute copies of this book PROVIDED that (1) full credit is given to the author Louis Lopez, (2) it is copied exactly as found here without any alterations to the wording and (3) no more than $20 is charged for each copy.

PART II

1

Richard woke up and couldn't believe he was actually at home. He was that used to the past year of waking up in a hut in Vietnam. He had been in bed for many hours, but he still didn't feel fully rested. He could still feel a tight inner tension and an indefinable, but lingering anxiety. He knew he had slept restlessly and superficially. He had several bad dreams. He knew they had been unpleasant ones even though he could not recall most of them. He did recall one dream. In it he had stepped on a mine and lost his entire left leg. He remembered rolling on the ground in extreme pain, screaming at the top of his lungs. He had then woken up suddenly. Luckily, it appeared that he had only yelled out in his dream and not in actuality. The scene had been very vivid, and he remained awake for a while with an intense feeling of real terror.

He now got up from his bed. He coughed several times; he didn't know why. Before he got dressed, he went to the window just to take a look outside. He opened the curtains and coughed once again. He immediately noticed what had probably made him cough. The Los Angeles sky was filled with the lingering dark yellow haze called smog. He had forgotten what the sky always looked like in Los Angeles. It was much clearer in Vietnam. He would have to start getting used to it again.

That evening Richard had the chance to sit down to talk with his parents after supper. It was only the three of them. His sister Laura had her own apartment. She was almost 21 years old now and had been making good money as an office receptionist for the last few years. His brother Miguel, or Mike as everyone called him, was at a school club meeting. He was a senior in high school now and was active in various school activities. Richard's father was tall, sturdy and had a light complexion. He asked a few questions about what it was like in Vietnam, and Richard tried to answer.

"Well, father, it's . . . . " he hesitated and stammered because he wasn't at all clear in his own mind what he thought about the entire situation and what could be done about it. Furthermore, he wasn't sure his father would understand the definite observations and viewpoints that he did have on his mind, "it's a very different war, I think. We're not trying to take over any territory or conquer a nation. The strategy is just to hold our ground and keep fighting off the guerrillas. It's not easy to do because they're so elusive, and the only way to know how well you're doing is by keeping a count of how many you kill or capture. It's hard to capture them, so you just try to kill off as many as you can. I don't think the United States has ever fought a war quite like this one, except maybe the wars against the Indians. I was thinking the other day about that, and there are at least some similarities. For instance, there's . . . . "

"You know," his father interrupted and spoke in the calm tone of someone who has ample knowledge of a subject, "there's always going to be bloodshed and killing in any war. You just can't get away from it. There's a lot of people going around today that seem to act so surprised that there are people dying out there, but what do they expect? That happens in a war.

"I remember one time in northern France when our company ran into some German machine guns. We were coming out of some trees and into a clearing, which was in front of a river we were going to cross. Some of the men were in the clearing and starting to go down the river bank when the machine guns started firing away. They cut down many of the men in the clearing. The ones in front ran down into the river. The river was full of ice, but it was only a thin sheet of ice, so when the men stepped on it they fell through. While they were trying to get themselves together, some Germans moved up on their side of the river bank and mowed them down. I had been in the clearing but luckily I was toward the back so I had the chance to run back into the trees before I got hit." Richard's mother had gotten up by now and was clearing the dishes from the table. "How about the Vietnamese people?" his father continued. "They like us all right, don't they?"

"I'm not really sure," replied Richard. He looked a little frustrated. "I'd say they don't like us very much. They certainly didn't act very much like they did. The kids liked us as long as we gave them candy and cigarettes. The adults mostly tried to stay out of our way, and every so often somebody--usually kids--would throw a grenade at us, or you'd hear about a G.I. that turned up missing after last being seen in a village and just couldn't be found. It's real strange.

"Then there's Viet Cong ambushes that take place outside a village, and you know the people in the village knew about it but just didn't say anything. I'd say that most people don't really care who's in power--the Communists or the South's generals. I think that what they would most like to see is an end to all the fighting. I think they would just much rather live peaceful lives free from all the bombings, ambushes, sweeps, crop destruction, and everything else.

"I'll tell you, though, the Vietnamese have a lot of good reason not to like us. You wouldn't believe some of the things that happen. Like there was . . . . "

"Those people might not show that they like us very openly," interrupted the father, "but I'm sure they do. I bet they'd really miss us if we left. I remember the French didn't seem too friendly. They'd sort of keep to themselves. But then I remember when we marched into Paris. Boy, I'll never forget that day. They loved us. It was a tremendous welcome. You've seen films of it. They went wild. They threw flowers, and all kinds of young girls ran out and kissed us. They were so happy.

"And as far as civilians suffering, well, you can't avoid that, either. It happens in every war. Sometimes, they get killed and wounded, too. There's a lot of bad things that happen in a war, but it's not all 100% bad. I mean you've got to look on the bright side of things. Like I just told you, the day we marched into Paris was one of the most exciting days of my life. Now, Richard, that you're finally home from the war and have it all behind you, you've got to sit down and think back on the positive things you got out of it. If you'll think about it, it was an experience that you had to go through, and now that you have, there must be a few things that you can say you learned. After all, I think war can build character in a man. It's like football. The discipline and teamwork and experience can help you learn and grow."

Richard's mother, a short, stout, dark woman, went up to Richard seated in his chair and put her arms around him. "I don't understand what that war is all about, and I don't know why you had to go, but I'm glad you're home now and safe. We don't have to worry anymore."

"What do you mean we don't have to worry anymore," blurted Richard in exasperation. "How about Mike? How about everyone else who has to go?"

"Mike will be all right," remarked his father calmly. "Don't worry. The only thing that worries me is that he says he won't go if they tell him to. I think he will, though. I know he's no coward. Sometimes I wonder, though. The way he talks he sure sounds like it, sometimes. He's been involved in some demonstrations that have been against the war, and at school he's in some radical group of some kind that's against the war. He's also been involved in some problems about some school rules, like rules on what clothes you can wear. I tell you these young kids are awfully rebellious these days. They're rebellious and unpatriotic. Like I told him before, 'America: Love It or Leave It.'"

Richard felt like arguing more with his father and trying to convince him that certain facts weren't the way he saw them, but he decided against it. He knew it was useless. His father was still fighting World War II and couldn't or wouldn't try to study and comprehend what could be a very different situation. He was mad at his father to a certain extent, but he thought that perhaps he shouldn't be. He wasn't the only one who thought that way. Richard figured that, whether or not he convinced his father that the war was wrong, it wouldn't affect the course of the war. Richard himself was still not fully convinced that it was an unnecessary war. He figured that the best thing to do was to better inform himself on the facts of the war and try to convince not only his father but other people as well that the United States should get out of the war as soon as possible.

2

Richard was driving along a street in Santa Monica not far from his home. He had looked into a couple of jobs, but it didn't look very promising. For one thing, he had not had his heart into job hunting that afternoon. It was only 6 P.M. but it was already dark. Today was January 20th, and the car radio was repeating the big news item of the day--the inauguration of Richard Nixon as President. The entry of a new President meant the departure of an old one, and Richard thought about Lyndon Johnson. The Vietnam situation had greatly overshadowed Johnson's efforts on the domestic side. Beneath it all, Johnson did seem to have some genuine compassion for people. Richard knew it would be hard for history to judge this man. Perhaps that was why he didn't feel as much hate or anger as appeared to be the case with many antiwar people. He wasn't sure that he shouldn't dislike him more than he did, but at this time, he didn't feel very much contempt or bitterness.

Johnson had not left very much resolved in the war except that he had ceased the bombing of the North and had opened negotiations with North Vietnam. Perhaps, Richard thought, Nixon would be able to bring it to a quick conclusion. He had seemed to think so during the campaign.

Something was wrong near the intersection ahead. Richard began to slow down. He had just seen a car dart across the intersection from the left and hit another car traveling on the street Richard was on. The crossing car hit the second one on the driver's door and dragged it along the street. The cars soon disappeared out of sight behind the house on the right corner of the intersection, but the impact and the screeching of the tires and brakes could be heard. Richard approached the intersection and decided to park his car just before the intersection. He got out of the car to see what had happened. It looked like the second car was up on the sidewalk to the right of the intersection. The other car was stopped close behind the first one, but it was still in the street. Other cars were passing by very slowly. The first car had pushed the impacted car against a lamppost. The post bent up the car considerably on the right side. The driver's door had also been bent inwardly. The car looked like an empty beer can that had been bent in from two opposite directions. The car was making contact with the post with its back right-side door.

At first, it was hard to see who had been injured. There was apparently no one inside or near the car that was in the street. Richard came up and stopped beside three persons standing on the corner. One of them was a middle-aged man who was talking and motioning nervously. He pointed toward the stop sign on the street on which the crossing car had been traveling, "See that tree on the other side of the stop sign?" the man asked the other two. "I didn't see the sign because of the tree. I swear it really covers up the sign. It shouldn't be there," he remarked almost hysterically. The others didn't say anything. It was clear that the man was the driver of the car in the street that had run into the other car.

After the man walked away, another man stated, "I saw it and he was speeding. No doubt about it." The impacted car that had been traveling on the street Richard was on crossed the intersection at precisely the wrong moment. There was no stop sign facing it at the intersection. Richard shuddered at the thought that it might have been he who would have been hit if he had come along a few seconds earlier.

The driver of the impacting car appeared to be perfectly sober. After a while, an ambulance and a police car arrived, and the lights on top of the vehicles continued to revolve and cast bright flashes of red on everyone and everything near them. There was a freeway that passed nearby, approximately two blocks away. It was a typical L.A. freeway crowded with hundreds of cars spurting by, most of them on their way home from work.

The men from the ambulance were now looking at someone lying on the sidewalk next to the impacted car. It was a woman who was motionless. She had been riding in the passenger seat of the car that had been struck and had been thrown out of the door after impact. She had been thrown against a fence that was right next to the sidewalk, bounced off, and then came down in the middle of the sidewalk. She was bleeding profusely from the head. She was lying face down and her left leg was dangling in an awkward position as if it were badly broken.

One of the medics from the ambulance was attending the driver. The driver was also a woman and was about 22 years old. She was still in the driver's seat but was trapped in the corrugated metal wreckage. Her forehead was badly gashed from hitting the windshield, several ribs were broken from her impact upon the steering wheel, and her legs and feet were wedged between the door and the instrument panel. She had passed out for several minutes but had just come to. She was clearly in extreme pain as she groaned loudly in a piteous tone. It looked as if it would take some time before they could get her out. Richard wondered how she would come out of the situation, if indeed she could come out of it at all. Richard estimated that it would take a while to bend away or cut away all the metal that had the woman trapped in the car. So far no one had come to start working on getting her out of the tin trap. The fire department's rescue squad would probably arrive before long. Richard worried whether the woman might not wind up permanently crippled in some way because of the delay in extricating her. He thought of this because he had heard of accident victims in similar cases coming out crippled because of the delay in getting prompt medical attention. Richard momentarily reflected upon people he knew who had come out of automobile accidents relatively unharmed and who talked about the incidents openly. He mused upon how lucky they had been. Then there were

one or two others that he had heard had ended up crippled in some way. He realized now that people weren't as eager to discuss that type of outcome.

In addition to the two women, there had been two children in the back seat of the automobile. There was a six year old boy who had been riding behind the driver. He was still inside the car and crying in pain. Luckily, he did not seem to be very seriously hurt although he had been bounced around inside the car with the force of the collision. He was dazed by what had happened and had not thought of anything else to do but to remain seated on the floor of the car behind the front passenger seat where he had fallen.

A small, three year old girl was crying. She was seated on the sidewalk immediately beside the passenger door. She had been riding behind the passenger seat. The impact had thrown her forward into the back of the passenger seat and then out the door. The car had only two doors. The little girl's face was bleeding where she had hit both the seat and the door. She had also broken an arm and was badly bruised throughout her body. Two or her teeth had been knocked out. The passenger's seat belt, which had apparently not been used, was dangling down from the car door. The little girl would at times writhe slowly in pain as tears streamed down her cheeks. She would periodically yell, "Mommy, Mommy," and look in the direction of the fallen woman on the sidewalk. She apparently could not or did not think to get up to go to her mother. The woman was also the boy's mother.

Richard was both touched and repelled by the sight of the desperately disconcerted little girl as well as all the rest of the ongoing misery. The cries of the children, especially those of the girl seemed to ring loudly through his head. It seemed as if he had been through this same, or at least a very similar, experience before. The cries sounded so vivid. Two police cars were now on the scene, and their lights and flashing semaphores illuminated everything brightly and dramatically. The previous experience he was trying to recall now came to his mind very clearly. It was the crying and terror of the children on the occasions that his company had gone to burn down villages in Vietnam. He could also now clearly hear in his mind the sound of the fire burning the thatched huts of the Vietnamese.

It hit him how actually there more deaths each year in the United States from automobile accidents than there had been American combat deaths from the war in Vietnam. It seemed hard to believe. He had recently heard that there were approximately 50,000 automobile deaths per year, yet only about 30,000 troops had been killed in the entire war so far.

In a sense, it seemed ludicrous to Richard in the face of this reality to worry very much about the lives that were being lost in the war. It all had to be taken in stride as part of modern living. Maybe that was why so many people seemed so indifferent about the war.

Some of the spectators on the scene had come out of their nearby homes, but others like Richard had passed by on cars. Actually, most of the people who lived in the vicinity had not even noticed the wreck. They were absorbed by other things. It was dinnertime for one thing. Others couldn't hear because the television or radio were on. For instance, the family four houses up from the accident was just sitting down to dinner. They were very talkative and happy this evening. It was a happy occasion because today was the birthday of their 4 year old daughter. The living room was away from the front of the house, and they could not see the flashing lights and could barely hear the sirens.

Richard was just standing there quietly now; his mind was still recalling memories of his experiences in the previous year. Seeing the woman lying on the sidewalk reminded him of many sights. He involuntarily remembered the sight of Schermer's foot that had been blown off by the mine. He vividly recalled Sutton's tragic end under the reddish light of the flare overhead. It was a bizarre nighttime scene like the one now with the red lights of the ambulance and police car flashing hypnotically.

A rescue squad had come by now and was starting to try to get the driver out of the car. The ambulance men were giving first aid to the children and carefully starting to move them to the ambulance. They would probably be able to sit up, so it would be possible to take them in the same ambulance with their mother. Someone asked an ambulance attendant if the children's mother was going to be all right.

The attendant stared down at the ground philosophically as he answered, "I guess you could say the mother's going to be all right, but it's the children that are going to be in bad shape. She's dead."

The cars that filled the freeway above continued to rush past, oblivious to what was happening below.

3

"I'll be over to your place about 8," said Richard eagerly. He was talking on the phone.

"You got my address?" asked the person on the other side.

"Yeah."

"I'll show you some good places, and I know of some real good spots where we might even be able to pick up some broads," said the other person. "See you at 8 then."

Richard had been talking to an old high school football teammate, Jack Clifton. He had not seen Jack since high school. They had not been especially good friends in high school but being on the football team made them become well acquainted. Richard had run into Jack at a shopping center near Richard's house a few days before. They had agreed to go out on the town tonight. Richard had not seen many friends since his return although he had already been back for a month. He had not gone out very much, either. He had mostly felt like staying home and keeping to himself. He didn't know why he felt that way, but he decided to go along with his mood. He seemed to mainly just want some peace and quiet. He didn't feel very excited about going out tonight, but he felt more eager than any other time since he had gotten back. He knew it was just as good that he started going out more regularly to have some fun.

Jack Clifton had been a good player on the team. He had played right tackle. He was 6'3." He had weighed 220 pounds then but now was 20 pounds heavier. He looked it, too. Jack had not gone to college after high school. There were many colleges where he could have easily played on the football team, but he had not been very enthusiastic about going on to college, even if it was primarily to play football. Instead, Jack worked in construction for awhile. After that, he joined the Marines. He joined when some friends said they were going in, and he decided to go along. He found he liked the Marine Corps because of the physical challenge and the physical training. After a year in the Corps, it dawned upon him that he had signed up for a very long time.

He still had three years to go on his enlistment, and it seemed that the end would never come. Jack did not go to Vietnam as soon as most of the Marines had gone who had joined at the same time with him. It looked for a time that he might be able to finish his enlistment without going there at all, but with a year to go on his enlistment, he was sent to Vietnam for the normal year-long tour of duty. He finished his Vietnam tour and enlistment in the Marines in August, 1968.

After Richard picked him up, Jack took him to several bars and nightclubs mostly on Sunset Strip. They mostly talked about the past--high school, the years immediately following graduation, the service, and Vietnam.

''Whatever happened to that girl you were going with in high school?" asked Jack. "Eve Cummings wasn't it?"

RICHARD We broke up right before graduation.

JACK Shit, I never knew that. I thought you guys were really serious.

RICHARD No, it only seemed like it. I think we even fooled ourselves for a while. Oh, there was some affection but not that much. Hell, everybody told us what a cute couple we made, so we played along in our roles.

JACK You probably remember that I didn't go with anyone in particular in high school, but I met this girl not too long after we got out of high school. We went together a while. After I joined the Marines, we talked about getting married. After I was in the Marines a while, it sort of started fizzling. Shit, you know how being away can sort of dampen things. I guess I still liked her, but she started insisting that she had to date other guys. I knew what was coming. Before long, I got a Dear John, and then not too much later I heard she got married.

RICHARD I started to go with this girl in my senior year in college, and I think it could have gone farther if it hadn't been that I got drafted.

(Richard thought about Jack's problem and figured it was a typical one these days. As a matter fact, there was a new song that Richard imagined could have very well been written by a guy in a situation similar to Jack's. The hit was sung by a new group called Brooklyn Bridge. It was about a guy who surmised that his ex-girl friend's upcoming marriage was maybe the best thing for her, but to him it was "The Worst That Could Happen.")

JACK Hey, have you seen very many of the guys from the team since high school. I guess Jim Laraway did pretty good at San Diego State. He was on the first team for his last two years.

RICHARD Yeah, I heard.

JACK Hell, we had some pretty damn good teams in high school. We were always on top or near the top.

(Jack was clearly drunk by now, as could be told from his speech. The two went on to talk in detail about the different games they had played on the team. After a while, they went on to another place and continued their conversation.)

RICHARD So where did you stay while you were in Vietnam?

JACK My unit was up in the Central Highlands most of the time. We had to do a lot of humping. Man, I had some close calls, too. (He paused momentarily, as if reflecting in awe.) I guess I'm lucky I'm here. Goddamn, I suppose you probably had some close calls yourself. I guess any grunt does.

RICHARD You're damn right. I'm just glad I made it through all right.

JACK What do you think? Don't you think we should have gone in and kicked the shit out of North Vietnam instead of wasting our time the way we did? Shit, that's the only way to really wipe out the fucking Communists.

They went next to a bar in an out of the way place that Jack said he liked. They continued to talk about a diversity of subjects from old high school experiences to current sports events to recent movies they had seen. The man to the right of Jack sounded pretty drunk and started complaining that someone had taken the change he left on the bar while he was gone to the restroom. He was talking loudly. Richard and Jack didn't pay very much attention to the man until he tapped Jack on the shoulder.

"Hey, I bet you were the one," claimed the man. He was now sitting down on his stool. He looked to be about 35 years old. He was stockily built and stood 5'10. "Come on, hand it over," he requested. The man sounded like he was kidding, but he was annoying.

Jack didn't seem very perturbed. He calmly answered, "Listen, I didn't take it. I wasn't even looking in that direction. Ask my friend here," pointing to Richard.

"Oh, come on, I know you took it," insisted the man, half kidding but also half serious.

"Just because you're big doesn't mean you can get away with it. Give it back."

All of a sudden Jack moved quickly and in one continuous motion took the empty beer bottle he had just finished from the bar, brought his arm back over his shoulder, and looked ready to bring the bottle down on the man's head. Richard, while still sitting, reached over and grabbed Jack's arm before he brought it forward. Several men yelled out, "Hey," "Stop."

The bartender yelled excitedly, "Cut it out. I'm calling the police." The drunken man just sat there in his stool in a daze without making a move. Richard got up and went to Jack's side.

"O.K., Jack," he exclaimed. "Everything's all right." As Richard looked at Jack in the face, he noticed that Jack was totally stunned. He looked as if he had just woken up from a strange, ominous dream that he couldn't understand.

"Come on, Jack," Richard spoke loudly as if trying to wake Jack up from his torpor. "Let's get out of here right away. Let's go. Everything'll be all right." Richard started to pull him toward the door, and Jack slowly acquiesced.

Jack didn't say very much on the way home. He was evidently still stunned by what he had done. After they got to Jack's house, he began to talk more, trying to understand what had happened.

JACK Wow, I don't know what came over me. One minute I was sitting there just listening to that guy, figuring there was nothing to what he was saying, that he was crazy. Then, the next minute I'm standing there realizing I'm about to hit the guy with my beer bottle. It just happened real sudden like. I haven't been getting into any fights since I got back. I've stayed out of trouble so far--until tonight, at least. I know I have been feeling violent sometimes. There's been a few times when I've gotten pretty mad, and I've felt like duking somebody out, but I haven't done it.

Like the other day I went into this little grocery store to buy some beer, and when I heard what the price was when he rang it up on the cash register, I got mad as hell. I don't remember what the price was, but I thought it was outrageous. And I was completely sober, too. I got real mad at the guy because I knew he was the owner. I almost grabbed him by the collar. I was that mad. There were some other customers in the store, and they looked surprised. The guy looked surprised, too, but he stood by his guns. He made the usual excuses about how they were charging him more for everything and how the rent kept going up and how he was barely making it and all that shit. Well, I paid him the money for it and left. After I got in the car, I realized it wasn't bad enough to get that raging mad and threaten to punch a guy out.

RICHARD I've felt pretty tense, too. I thought it was natural for a while and that it would go away after a few days, but I still feel it after more than a month.

JACK Well, you'll probably go on feeling it for a while still. I don't know why it is. It's just strange. I still feel sort of strange being back. I mean sometimes it just feels weird having to be so nice and polite to people and control your feelings--your bad feelings. It's strange because not too long ago you were out there in a jungle going around smelly and dirty. Hell, you were like an animal going around being hunted down by the enemy and trying to kill him before he killed you--trying to wipe him out wherever he was. Then here you've got to be polite and respect everyone. Sometimes, I've felt like just blowing away somebody that just really rubbed me wrong, you know. Why not? Some son of a bitches I've run into are probably worse people than some of those I shot and didn't even know.

RICHARD Yeah, I know what you mean. I've thought about those things myself. I've wondered what's to stop me--or anyone for that matter--from just going and wiping out someone just for the hell of it. I know they'd put you in jail, but aside from that I don't feel there's anything to stop you. Even if you don't shoot somebody just for the hell of it, why not go kill somebody who's just a real bastard. Maybe, he's just a real nuisance, not just to you but to practically everybody else around him. You know, he lies, cheats, and steals. You can't trust him. He doesn't support his wife and kids, but he still comes home sometimes just to beat them. I mean, you would probably be doing a favor to lots of people and to society if you wiped him out.

JACK (after a short interlude of silence) I don't know what to do. I've been pretty confused these days. Sometimes I feel pretty down. I don't know why. I didn't use to ever get this way, but I do now sometimes. I guess the thing that get's me the most is thinking back on some of the guys I knew--I mean the ones that got killed or maybe badly shot up. I think about it, and it just doesn't make any sense, man. (Jack leans over and puts his head in his right hand. His voice sounds broken as if he is about to cry.) You know how it is.

RICHARD Yeah, I know what you mean.

JACK After all this time, I still have nightmares about the whole thing. (He opened the door and got out of the car.) Listen, Rich, I really appreciate what you did at the bar. Thanks a lot. Listen, I'll give you a call soon and we'll get together and do something again.

RICHARD Sure thing, Jack. Try to keep it cool. See you.

Richard got home at 1:30 in the morning, but he still wasn't sleepy. It had been a strange evening. He kept thinking about what had happened and about what Jack had said. He hoped he wouldn't ever have any fits of violence like Jack had felt, but he knew he couldn't be sure. He knew he had been experiencing violent feelings within himself, and he had sometimes felt depressed. He couldn't explain why he felt down. There didn't seem to be any direct connection to his war experiences because the depression came at times when he wasn't reflecting at all upon what had happened in Vietnam. Yet, he had never before in his life felt the same kind of depression.

Richard turned on the television to see if there were any good late movies. A movie entitled Till the End of Time with Guy Madison, Dorothy McGuire, and Robert Mitchum was coincidentally showing. It had been made in 1946, and Richard became very interested. He had heard the theme song sung by Perry Como several times before. Some of the problems and the lethargic mood of the story seemed very current and familiar to him. It was about World War II veterans trying to readjust to civilian life.

4

In the following months, Richard kept looking for a job, but he couldn't find anything. It wasn't that there were no jobs available. The problem was that Richard was being very picky, and he knew it. He didn't intend to be picky, but somehow he hesitated at every job that was offered to him. He always seemed to find something objectionable with the jobs, something that he figured would make him want to leave the job before very long. There were several instances in which he had been rejected for employment. He figured that in most of those cases he probably had not looked or acted very enthusiastic. He knew that had to be true in at least some cases because it was true that he just didn't feel the eagerness and enthusiasm that he was sure employers were looking for. There was no doubt in his mind that perceptive interviewers could pick up the negative feelings that he had--the confusion, the desolation, the despondency.

Still, he didn't know what to do about it and in a way he didn't care. It was true that he felt guilty to a certain extent because with a college degree he had a much better chance at getting a job--and a good paying one--than most of the other vets who were out trying to find a place. For that reason, he tried a little harder than he would have otherwise. In the meantime, he collected unemployment compensation. At first, he had scoffed at the idea of collecting it. He had thought that he would find a good job right away and have no need for compensation. His friends told him to file for it anyway, but he had refused. He was too sharp and eager to bother with that kind of thing, he thought. He figured that unemployment compensation was intended as an aid of last resort. After a while, he had decided to go collect, and now he was getting used to the idea of an easy, automatic check.

Richard's hair was growing much longer than it had ever been. He was wearing blue jeans and old clothes much of the time. He found he could wear some of his old Army clothes such as his field jacket and boots and be in style with what many other people were wearing. He was much less formal in his dress than he had been before. He started really getting into some of the new rock sounds that had come out in the past few years. He started buying some new albums like "Are You Experienced?" by the Jimi Hendrix Experience, Grateful Dead's album titled with their name, and "Bathing at Baxter's" by the Jefferson Airplane. There seemed to be a flood of records to choose from.

He also started smoking marijuana fairly regularly. He was careful about it at first. He was concerned that it might be harmful, but after smoking it several times, he forgot about those concerns, especially since he knew that there were so many other people doing it. Richard had the opportunity because his old friend Ralph Pettibon often smoked it. Ralph had an apartment of his own and could have grass around without any worry about parents. Richard was still living at home and could not act so freely.

Richard had not been able to make many new friends. Neither had he been able to establish new contact with very many old friends from high school and college. Some of them were still in the service, others had moved away. Others had changed or were married, and there didn't seem to be as much in common with them anymore. Richard felt sad about that to a certain extent, especially since it didn't seem that things had to turn out that way. He couldn't exactly explain the feeling that he had, but it just seemed that, even though people might change, there could still be enough in common to keep them together as friends. Richard had seen Jack once again since the incident at the bar in February. Jack was not doing anything new. He had a number of friends that he hung around with much of the time, and it was hard for Richard to get in touch with him.

Richard was still close to Ralph Pettibon. One thing that had always brought them together since they were in high school was that Ralph was open enough to engage in good, deep conversations. Richard felt comfortable talking to him about things that he wouldn't even mention to other people more freely. He could express his doubts and demonstrate his feelings. Part of the reason for this rapport was simply the familiarity that had gradually developed between them over the years. It was also important that they were both sensitive and perceptive. Richard was hardly aware of the various reasons why he found it easy to talk to Ralph. It just seemed natural and easy to talk to him.

Ralph was thin with light brown hair and a generally unexpressive face. He looked very nice and proper, but most would have been surprised to know that he was addicted to porno films. Ralph was generally quiet and shy, but he was a good listener and showed good judgment. Ralph had never gone to college, but he was well informed. He read widely on diverse subjects and had a true, natural passion for knowledge. Richard knew that was more than he could say about many college graduates, including himself. Ralph worked in a large department store in the men's clothing department, and he seemed satisfied with his job. Richard had been able to tell Ralph about his uneasy feelings and doubts since he had returned. Ralph had been very understanding and soothing. Richard found that it helped just to be able to talk about it.

Richard also had occasional long conversations with his brother Mike. Mike was at that age when it is naturally common to feel rebellious and to desire independence. At times he would sit around and brood. Mike wasn't mature enough to understand some of the things Richard was going through on a personal and emotional level. Richard didn't talk to him very much about his inner feelings, but he did like to talk to him about politics and social problems. Those were certainly topics that his brother was very interested in at the present time.

Mike was very much involved in questioning a wide variety of evils and failings of American society including the oppression of women, repressive laws involving sex and marijuana, an unjust distribution of wealth, a polluted environment, neglected slums, and others. Richard found much that was correct and appealing in what Mike said, but he argued with him because he knew that Mike made the United States sound like it was the first corrupt and unjust society in history. He would tell Mike to be aware that there were and had been many other objectionable societies. Actually, American society was much better than many others because there always seemed to be a good number of people who worked hard to correct injustices. It was sad to say that social evils in the United States were indicative of the many failings of human beings around the world, both in the past and at present. Richard also liked to challenge Mike to come up with sound solutions to the problems.

Richard had made one new friend recently that he liked. His name was George Gourdoux. George had gone to a junior college for two years. He had not gone on to college, so when he was about to get drafted, he joined the Navy. George was a pleasant, easy going guy who was not very well decided on what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. He was now going to Long Beach State College, but the main reason he was going was to collect the money he could receive as a veteran under the G.I. Bill. Tuition was low at Long Beach State so that there was plenty of money left for other expenses. Richard didn't mind that guys like George could collect money under the G.I. Bill, but he did kid him about it. "Hey, George, man, I don't see how a guy like you can collect all that G.I. Bill money when all you ever did in the war was sit on a fucking ship."

"Well," replied George, "as long as the taxpayers don't say anything about it, I ain't going to complain."

George always seemed very relaxed. He walked slowly and was rarely in a hurry to get any place. He liked to smoke marijuana often. He said he had changed in personality from what he had been before. He used to be more aggressive and competitive. He had been active in sports in high school and had even played football in junior college. Now he was much more interested in following his own whim and not worrying about what other people were doing or what they had to say about him. He wore old but individually decorated clothes. He had two pairs of jeans that he had painted in a free-flowing style similar to Jackson Pollock's expressionistic paintings. He wore a variety of hats including his old Navy dress cap, a farmer's straw hat, and a silver construction worker's helmet. He had also painted or embroidered designs on some of his shirts. He used to sum up his philosophy by repeating the currently popular phrase, "Do your own thing, man. Just do your own thing."

George was interested in keeping up with current political events. He and Richard got into a few discussions about the war. The discussions were not very involved. They agreed that they didn't like the war but never decided what to do about it. Richard felt uneasy about having thought little about the war in the time since he got back. He frankly didn't know where to start. Nixon had not done anything dramatic in ending the war.

April, 1969 marked the month in which there was a peak number of combat soldiers stationed in South Vietnam during the entire period of the war. 1969 would also be the year in which the most United States casualties were suffered.

5

She was friendly and full of life. She was 18 years old and seemed eager and ready to enjoy the rest of her life. She wasn't especially talkative or boisterous, but she had large, excitable, bright eyes that radiated a desire to dive right into a life full of romance and adventure. She was new to California having only arrived a month before. She had come from Kinsley, Kansas where she had graduated from high school and then decided to leave and go to California where she knew she could find fun, excitement, and love.

Her name was Kathy Brown. She had come out to Los Angeles with a close friend from high school. She lived in an old apartment with her friend and a girl they had met in L.A. The apartment was small, but they managed to live in it comfortably. There were arguments and resentments over various matters related to living arrangements, cleaning chores, and personal habits. The disagreements were not anything out of the ordinary, and so far the three girls had managed to get along well. The girls' finances were low since all of them had low paying jobs. Kathy worked in a fast food restaurant. The pay was at the minimum wage of $1.60 per hour, but otherwise she didn't mind the job. It was hectic at times, and the manager could be a tyrant. He had once fired two girls on impulse and without good cause, but there was nothing anyone could do about it. What she liked about the job was that there were many people around with whom to talk and work.

Richard met her at a party. It was a pot party given at the house of some friends that George knew. There were a large number of people at the party, and they came and went at different times. There was a large variety of people. There were blacks, browns, Orientals, but most were white. There were high school dropouts, college students, college graduates, graduate students, and blue and white collar workers. There was a variety in dress, but everyone was dressed very informally. Some went out of their way to wear old, worn out clothes. There was great diversity in various aspects, but there were two common interests that brought everyone together--marijuana and music. Everyone looked calm and relaxed. There seemed to be little criticism of what other people were doing or thinking. It was an accepting attitude, and there were few signs of competitiveness or conceit. Some of the people pointed to the marijuana as being the cause of these "vibrations" of well being and social harmony, but it was not clear that people were not on their best behavior simply because they were already anticipating a mystically edifying effect from the substance. In fact, what could have been most important in producing a peaceful, beneficent effect was the tendency often caused by marijuana to withdraw into one's own mind and senses.

The house was being rented by four UCLA students. As a result, most of the people present were students at UCLA. There were different posters and art prints on the walls. Most of the posters were artfully designed advertisements for rock concerts. On one wall there was a black light illuminating a poster underneath it. There were various lamps around the rooms, and most of them had colored light bulbs--red, amber or green. There was a Tiffany lamp that provided some elegance. It looked like from the early 1900's. There were several plants around the house, and a thin-mesh fish net hung from the ceiling in the living room. There was an old Persian rug on the floor. In the middle of the living room floor were located two large hukkas around which a large number of people were congregated at all times. The hukkas were nothing more than large laboratory flasks hooked up with rubber stoppers and rubber tubing to furnish cool drafts of marijuana. People took turns taking drags from the rubber tubes coming out like tentacles from the tops of the flasks. Others who did not use the flasks simply shared joints among many people by passing them around. Whichever method was used created the opportunity for making new friends. It was hard to avoid exchanging at least a few words in the process.

Perhaps there was a natural intimacy brought on by the oral sharing of the same rubber tube or cigarette. There was definitely a greater feeling of camaraderie from the awareness that they were all breaking a law. Moreover, it was a law that they considered stupid and irrational just like many others that they could point to. It was both frightening and exciting to know that there was a possibility--although a remote one--that they could all be busted and taken to jail together.

Small groups usually formed after a while, and many of the people would be open to engaging in quiet, reflective conversation. They would "rap" about any of several common topics of conversation. Among the subjects were Far Eastern religion, parapsychology, politics, music, and innovative books and movies such as Kurt Vonnegut's novels or 2001 Space Odyssey. There was often also frequent discussion about matters relating to personal needs and perceptions that reflected changes in values and attitudes. In the background, there was always music playing. There would be any of a variety of records being played, but often records would be played that would complement the mood. At times, people would want to dance and records with a good dance beat would be played. Soul music was the best type of music for this purpose. At other times when the mood was more quiet, there were certain records that were considered to fit the mood the best. One of the big favorites was "Ina Gadda da Vidda" by Iron Butterfly. Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band by the Beatles was a popular album as were Electric Ladyland by the Jimi Hendrix Experience and East-West by the Paul Butterfield Blues Band. There were lesser known groups that were often played like Quicksilver Messenger Service, H.P. Lovecraft, and Colosseum.

Richard started talking to Kathy while both were sitting by a flask, waiting for it to be refilled. She did not say very much, but she was responsive and showed warmth and an interest in talking. Richard talked about what he had been doing lately. He talked about his efforts to get a job and some of the funny experiences he had gone through in job searches and interviews. "I guess I'm not that eager to get a job," he said. "Actually all of the ones I've found aren't all that great. I'd be afraid that after a while I'd be bored to death. For the meantime, I can at least collect unemployment." Richard talked briefly about Vietnam, but he didn't want to go into unpleasant details he knew nobody would want to hear.

Kathy started talking more. She talked about her job at the fast food restaurant. "It's not a bad place to work. It can get pretty busy sometimes, like around lunch time, but sometimes it's so slow it's real boring. Most of the people I work with are nice and a lot of fun, so we make the time pass quickly."

She went on to talk about why she had left her home in Kinsley. "It was so dull. Everybody just seemed to want to get married after they got out of high school. The boys wanted to quickly find jobs and start making money. Nobody thought very much about doing anything out of the ordinary. It seemed that they were just content to fall into a rut the rest of their lives. Even in high school they went along with everything that the principal and teachers had to say. They might sometimes nag about certain rules like the ones against long hair and unacceptable clothes like blue jeans, but they never really did anything about it when they had a chance to. I had some friends, and we protested against a lot of that garbage, but it was just a few of us that stuck our necks out. Everybody else didn't want to bother. The kids in the student government should have really been doing a lot about that kind of thing, but they wanted to stay in good with the teachers. The whole town was so conservative. There wasn't anything to do. The newspaper always seemed to be attacking anything that was very new, and like just a few people owned most of the businesses in town."

Kathy's friend came up to tell her about a beach party that a group of people were starting to plan. They moved over to join the planning for the party. After some discussion, it was definitely decided that everyone would meet at the beach in Malibu at about 3 the next day. Someone mentioned they would bring volleyball equipment. Everyone was to bring whatever they wanted to eat and drink. Everybody was very eager and excited about it.

Richard and George went together to the beach. A much larger number of people showed up than anybody expected. There were about 60 people at all times. Some of those present had been at the party, but many others were friends who had come along. Kathy came with one of her roommates and a friend. Most of the people were friendly and open. Everyone was in good spirits and enjoying themselves. There were several lively volleyball games, and there were a couple of vans that provided music through their powerful speakers. People exchanged food and beer and wine. There was plenty of marijuana around to smoke and joints were passed around often. No one was afraid of any police busts, but they were careful anyway.

The party went right on going strong right into the night's darkness. It got dark late because of the long summer days. Richard made several new friends both at the party and at the beach; however, much of his time

was spent with Kathy. The two played volleyball and frisbee, they talked and giggled, ate and drank. Richard thought about how he had always been attracted by 18-year-old girls. They walked around on the beach. Well after it had become dark, they went on a long walk northward along the beach. It was after 1 o'clock. Kathy's friends had just left after Richard promised to take her home.

Kathy and Richard were tired. They had also drunk considerably and had just finished smoking some real good dope. They were feeling relaxed but very awake and aware of their altered bodily sensations and visual perceptions. Richard had his arm around Kathy as they walked. She felt warm and very real to his touch, but it was a different sensation from what he normally felt. She felt very solid to him as if she were made from one single, homogenous material. It was still a very pleasurable sensation. She in turn felt full of very warm and pleasurable sensations. The beach was almost completely deserted now. It would have been hard to see except that there was a large, yellow moon out over the ocean.

To Kathy and Richard, all the things around looked slightly different from the normal. Nothing looked distorted or grotesque in any manner. The difference was that there was a more distinct sharpness in the sensual impressions they received. The sensations were filled with an other worldly intensity. They at once looked very solid and then almost at the same time appeared to be lying only on a two dimensional space. The huge moon looked as if it were ready to explode from the pregnant mass that it held, and then at times it looked like an enormous plate of gold suspended in a dark, dimensionless room. The ocean waters looked like a thin sheet with the moonlight dancing on the waves. Yet, it looked like one could easily walk on those waves as far as one desired. The sand felt densely solid underneath. It seemed to extend for millions of miles beneath. Ahead, it looked like a thin, fragile sheet of paper upon which every step would have to be taken very carefully. The sound of the gliding ocean waves was extra clear and distinct. Richard noticed that through his imagination he could exercise almost complete control over whether he perceived the surrounding objects as solid or fragile. It was really his imagination--he thought--which was making the different unusual perceptions, and it was only being aided by the effects of the marijuana.

Several times along the way, Richard and Kathy stopped to caress and kiss each other intensely. Finally, they fell to the ground in a trance of passion. There was no one else in sight. They kissed and rolled in the sand in a ravenous hunger for physical gratification. Richard then very naturally took off her halter top. She offered no resistance. He next slowly removed her cut off jeans, and she still said nothing. He realized he liked her and had enjoyed himself very much that day. He found her attractive, but he didn't think it was love that he felt, not yet at least. He had always before been concerned about birth control, but this time it barely crossed his mind. He didn't feel like worrying about it this time. What they were about to do just seemed like very natural. She wasn't sure she was in love either, but what she was feeling was without a doubt deliriously pleasant. And it was so romantic in this setting, in Malibu, in California. She wouldn't miss this for anything in the world. She remembered that she had no means of birth control, but she didn't care. She was sure in her mind that she wouldn't get pregnant. Going through with this delightful experience was the next inevitable step. The full golden moon was lingering over the Pacific waters.

6

The people that Richard got to meet at the party were not only involved in smoking marijuana frequently, but they also used other drugs. It was through them that Richard got to first experiment with mescaline and then LSD. His first trip with LSD was not as frightening as he had heard it was supposed to be from people and from the media. Neither was it the wondrous and ineffable adventure that its proponents like Timothy Leary had claimed. His friends also liked going to rock concerts often and there were many good ones to attend. There seemed to be at least one widely known band in L.A. each week, and Richard went often with his friends. Sometimes he took Kathy along but not always. The best experience he had at a concert was one time that he went to see the Grateful Dead. They had just smoked some very potent grass. Richard was enthralled by their song, "Dark Star."

Richard also often dropped over at the house where most of his new friends lived. It was the house where the party had been given. There were five people who lived in the house, Becky Friedman, Glenda Fong, Sheila Cates, Bob Farnsworth, and Tony O'Leary. They were all students at UCLA except for Tony who was a recent graduate and was working as a computer programmer. There were other people like Richard who went to the house to visit. There were often discussions on any number of currently popular subjects. Everyone seemed well informed on political and social events. There was no romantic involvement between any of those living in the house. It had simply happened that they were the first five to find the house and decide to live together.

They would often talk about various issues including such things as the defense industry and American support of dictatorships around the world like Marcos in the Philippines, King Faisal in Saudi Arabia, and the Shah of Iran. Richard listened attentively but he said very little because he was not as well informed. He knew he was behind in understanding current events, and he wanted to get up to date on information. He enjoyed listening to the discussions. Even though everyone pretty much agreed, the conversations were still exciting because everyone got emotionally involved in the issues as they talked, especially Becky and Bob. Becky would appear clearly indignant at times. Richard actually found her attractive when she got mad.

One day they got together to march in a nationwide protest called the Moratorium. Protest marches had been called by antiwar organizers for this day, October 15, 1969, for every town and city across the United States. Thousands responded. There were marches at different times of the day and night. In many places, leaflets were passed out or discussions were begun. For example, a group of students caught an early commuter train going northward to San Francisco and talked to the riders about the opposition to the war. A businessman responded to a Stanford student, "Our country right or wrong."

The student responded, "That's right, but you didn't finish it, sir.

The rest is: 'When it is right, keep it right. When it is wrong, make it right.'"

The man turned away and mumbled, "Traitor."

Along with Richard and his new friends, there was Ralph and a 51-year-old man named Dan Wine who was a friend of the students. He looked all of 51, but his clothes were those of a twenty-year-old hippie. He wore old, worn-out, faded blue jeans, a blue prison shirt and hiking boots. Today, as he often did, he was wearing a claw necklace. He was warm, soft-spoken, and articulate. He was reflective and never responded to important questions from other people with a poorly considered or superficial remark. Dan had moved out to California to start a new life in 1960. He found that jobs weren't that much easier to find than they had been in Philadelphia. He was able to work for a time as a substitute teacher. Then he decided to open a small bookstore of his own. It was hard at first, but he was eventually able to turn it into a gainful operation. He also dealt in many used books because he hated to think that many old books were wasted by lying around or getting thrown away. It was not a booming operation by any means, but it was enough to give him a satisfactory living by his standards. Dan had two deep creases in his forehead that suggested hardships in his past, but his bright eyes were a contrast with their glint of excitement about life.

There were many people at the march, and they weren't just young students. There were older people marching today who often were old enough to have children in college. Some of the older men wore suits or at least ties. They were friendly with all the young people, who still constituted the majority of those present, but they were sedate and appeared more studiedly serious. Most of the young were just as serious, but their energy and joviality camouflaged much of their earnestness. There were a number of entire families marching together, most of them were young families with small children. There were signs and posters scattered all around the crowd with the names of organizations or with various questions and requests related to ending the war. There was one sign that read, "If

we were able to reach the moon, why can't we stop this Hideous War." Everywhere--on signs and on people--could be seen the popular peace symbol ✇ .

Richard and Ralph were a little off to themselves at the beginning and away from the others in the group. "Kathy had to work today," mentioned Richard, "but she probably wouldn't have wanted to come anyway."

"Are you still seeing Kathy?" queried Ralph.

"Yeah, off and on. I don't see her real often, but we still do things together."

"I guess that means you must like her all right."

''Well, you know, that's something that I've been thinking about lately. I like her; I like her company and all. I mean, she's a great kid and all, you know, but I can't say I love her, and I don't know that I ever would get real crazy about her. And then what bothers me is that she seems to like me a bit too much, you know, compared to what I feel. Hell, she hasn't come out and actually told me that she's madly love, so I may be wrong, but she certainly acts like it. She's told me, for one thing, that she's not at all interested in going out with other guys, and she doesn't seem real comfortable that I haven't made the same commitment. She hasn't  pressed me real hard on it, but she does ask why I have any interest in seeing other girls. She's also often laying lavish praises on me and in a way that doesn't make it seem like if she's just mildly interested."

"You sure it's not just your ego that makes you think that she's all that in love with you? It could be that you just like the idea that someone is madly in love with you. A thing like that does lift up our pride and spirit, even if we don't feel that much about that person.''

"No, I don't think I'm exaggerating. I've thought about it a lot, trying to be sure that I just wasn't getting carried away with myself. I really think it's true. She might not be madly in love, but I think she sees it as a much deeper relationship than I do."

"You don't see it as a very serious thing, or of even having the possibility of getting serious."

"No, I really don't. I like Kathy sure enough. I like a lot of her personal qualities. She's very nice and supportive in many ways. I mean, shit, she's not like a lot of girls her age that are just into themselves and into seeing who's going to pay the most attention to them, you know. She often asks me how I'm feeling and she seems concerned, and I don't think it's phony. It's sincere. She's not worried about hiding her emotions whatever they might be. You know, she's pretty open. She'll show it when she's happy, but she'll also show it when she's mad. I like that. I like people who will let you know what they think and feel, instead of someone that you're never sure of as far as what they think."

"Do you think she's very smart?" asked Ralph.

"No, quite frankly she's not. There's a lot of things she's not even aware of that I would expect she would be, but I suppose that's really more of a matter of being naive than a matter of intelligence. Still, I think there's ways in which it seems that she's just not that bright. I mean, like there's things that I explain to her and she doesn't catch on very quick. Then there's funny ideas she has or dumb things that she does that just don't make sense, and she can't give very good reasons for doing them. She just sort of does them without giving it much thought. The one thing that I think I most like about her is that she often seems so lively and excited about doing things. She seems really excited to be alive. She seems optimistic about almost everything and ready to tackle whatever comes along. That sort of attitude tends to pick me up, too. That's one reason I still like seeing her. I think it's got a lot do with her age. A lot of girls that age seem to be real lively and exuberant."

"Yeah, I think you're right. I've noticed that myself. They're a lot more light and exciting, but at the same time, they can be pretty off the wall, too. I mean, you know, they can be more unpredictable and do stupid things on impulse."

"That's right. You've got a definite point there," Richard mentioned reflectively.

"Shit, it sounds like she's got a lot to like and you can see those good qualities in her."

"That's right, I know, but that's just it--it doesn't mean I love her--well, at least not much. You know there's just not the spark that you expect to feel. At least, what I like to feel. You know what I mean? I mean, I like to see some electricity. You know? That's the way I've felt it when I've fallen in love before, and I know I don't feel it now. Like I say, there's not just the electricity."

"Maybe it'll come along later. Maybe you can't expect it to be there right away all the time like it was before."

"Yeah, that could be. I've thought about it. I've been waiting for it to happen for a while, but it doesn't seem like if the feeling is even beginning to come. I just don't think it will ever come. Somehow I think I can at least be pretty sure about that ahead of time. I mean, I think I can predict pretty well ahead of time what will probably happen, and in this case, I just feel the chances are pretty slim of my ever feeling anything deep."

"Well, like I said before, you could wait and see how your feelings for her develop, but actually it sounds like you've already done that and it just hasn't happened."

"Yeah, exactly. Maybe it could still change but I doubt it."

"And you don't feel right feeling that maybe you're just leading her on."

"Yeah, yeah, that's it," said Richard, raising his voice slightly with excitement as if he had wanted but had not been able before this time to articulate that thought precisely. "I just don't feel completely comfortable."

"Well, then maybe you should stop seeing her or at least just see her once in a while and make it clear you're not that serious."

"Yeah, I've thought of that, but the hassle is that, goddamn it, I still find her sexy. And, you know, I haven't found anybody else that I particularly like, so I hate to drop her. Like I said, she's O.K. as company. And, of course, there's always other considerations. I mean, you know what they say, a guy's got to have a shot o' leg one in a while. You know, it's hard--just like that--to give up a good piece." He smiled at Ralph devilishly as Ralph returned an understanding grin.

They joined the others and walked and talked together for a while. They were in a light mood for the moment and consequently poked fun at Nixon, the Army, the draft, politicians, etc. Later, Richard and Dan Wine started talking. Dan was interested in how difficult it was for a returning soldier to become readjusted to civilian life. He asked incisive questions that no one had asked Richard before. Richard wasn't very sure what to answer because he had not given very much thought to many of the points Dan was touching upon. One thing that impressed Richard about the questioning by Dan was that he seemed very genuinely concerned--both about Richard as an individual and about the troubles that other veterans felt when returning from the war. There were so many others who asked questions but who seemingly did it only out of a desire to make conversation. They really didn't seem that eager to know what had really happened or to find out what, if anything, to do about it.

Dan, like Bob Farnsworth, was perplexed to realize that the United States was deeply entangled in supporting tyrannical governments and their wealthy aristocracies around the world and not just in South Vietnam. Eventually, the conversation became involved with this question, which had lately been uppermost in Dan's mind.

"There's another very important phenomenon that explains why we can so quietly and easily go along. This is simply that our social structure isn't really that much different from theirs. I mean we, too, definitely have an aristocracy in this country that controls a disproportionate amount of wealth and power. They've been called the 'superrich.' The radicals call them the 'ruling class.' Veblen called them the 'leisure class.' They have a great deal of influence on business and government."

Dan discussed the various ways that the wealthy used their power and also pointed out that many people would say that the ''American aristocracy" wasn't as bad as in other countries because there was more upward mobility. He argued that this still didn't mean the social structure was just and that it seemed to be getting more disproportionate everyday. Richard listened with interest. He didn't say very much because he had never given very much thought to what Dan was discussing. He had some doubts about what Dan was saying, but for the most part he found it made much sense.

Dan continued, "As for the argument about equal opportunity, it's really a joke. The children of the wealthy start out way ahead of everybody else, and it's hard to catch up with them. You and I might be able to get Federal educational loans to go to college or something like that, but that's nothing compared to the direct help that the superrich receive. Hell, if they really meant what they say about equal opportunity, there would be a steep inheritance tax that would only allow a small amount to be inherited. It would more clearly provide equal opportunity for all. Even then, however, rich children would have a definite advantage because of all the benefits they would receive while their parents were alive."

The march that Richard and his friends were in was peacefully concluded as were the rest of the marches throughout the country. In Gloucester Township, New Jersey, a high school girl and boy, both 17, parked their car in a secluded "lovers lane." They closed the windows, started the engine, and channeled the exhaust fumes into the car with a vacuum cleaner hose. Their bodies were later found along with 24 suicide notes written to parents, teachers, and friends. The notes stated that the two students were against the war, that they were unhappy over world conditions, and that they hoped people would learn from their deaths.

7

Richard and Kathy had just finished eating dinner at her apartment.

This night of November 3rd was a day off, and she invited Richard to her apartment to eat. Both of her roommates had gone out for the evening and would not be back until late.

"We've got the place all to ourselves," Kathy pointed out with a cheerful smile.

"Hey, you're right," he said as they sat down in the sofa in the living room. "Are you sure they'll be away all night." "Yeah, I'm sure."

Richard drew close to her and started to caress her. He than began to kiss her, and they kissed for several minutes.

"You want to smoke some weed?" she interrupted.

"Sure," he replied. She got up and went to get the marijuana. In the meantime, he got up and turned on the television set. She came back and rolled a few joints.

"Hey, Nixon is supposed to be making a speech in a little while," he said.

"Man, it's a good thing I thought about smoking this weed," she said calmly. "I don't think I'd be able to take him straight." She lit up, took a deep drag, and passed it to him.

"You got a point there."

NIXON (beginning his speech) Good evening, my fellow Americans.

Tonight I want to talk to you on a subject of deep concern to all Americans and to many people in all parts of the world, the war the Vietnam.

I believe that one of the reasons for the deep division about Vietnam is that many Americans have lost confidence in what their Government has told them about our policy.

RICHARD I wonder if he's really got anything new to talk about.

KATHY This marijuana isn't bad, is it?

RICHARD No, I'm starting to feel something already. (They had just finished one joint, and Kathy was now lighting up another one.) Where did you score this tea?

KATHY My roommate Paula got it the other day. I guess it's pretty fresh.

NIXON The great question is: How can we win America's peace?

RICHARD Man, that's a funny phrase--"win America's peace." It sounds more like he's talking about winning the war. (In a little while, they finished the second cigarette. Richard drew close to Kathy and started kissing her behind the neck. After a while he was kissing her passionately all over the neck and face. She in turn was quickly becoming

aroused and excitedly running her hands all over his back.)

KATHY Do you feel that marijuana makes you more amorous? I've heard people say that it's supposed to.

RICHARD I don't know. I haven't noticed much difference. Of course, I'm always feeling amorous.

KATHY (laughingly) That's no lie. (They were kissing and caressing more and more passionately. Before long, Richard started unbuttoning her blouse. He moved rapidly and then went on to slip off her pants. They rolled from the sofa onto the floor. They stayed on the floor as Richard hastily took off his clothes with help from Kathy. The floor was covered with a thick, soft carpet. Each one ran his hands over almost every part of the other's body. Richard concentrated on Kathy's thighs. He rubbed every inch of them slowly with his hands. He also tried rubbing his thighs against hers. She enjoyed it thoroughly. He took some pillows that were on the sofa and put them on the floor so that she could lie on top of them.)

NIXON The policy of the previous Administration not only resulted in our assuming the primary responsibility for fighting the war, but even more significant did not adequately stress the goal of strengthening the South Vietnamese so that they could defend themselves when we left.

The Vietnamization plan was launched following Secretary Laird's visit to Vietnam in March. Under the plan, I ordered . . . .

KATHY (with a mischievous smile on her face) You know we really should be listening to this speech by the President of the United States.

RICHARD You're right, we should. It's our patriotic duty. (He now had her left tit cradled in both of his hands as she lay on her left side. He then continued sucking it. Their legs were intertwined. After a while, he began to slowly and gently caress her vulva. After that he very gently caressed her clitoris. Periodically, he would press it gently with his middle finger and gently move it from side to side. She had her eyes closed and was apparently enjoying it very much. He played with her clitoris for several minutes.)

NIXON Today we have become the strongest and richest nation in the world, and the wheel of destiny has turned so that any hope the world has for the survival of peace and freedom will be determined by whether the American people have the moral stamina and the courage to meet the challenge of free-world leadership.

(Richard knew now that it was all right to enter Kathy. He positioned himself to go into her.)

NIXON So tonight, to you, the great silent majority of my fellow Americans, I ask for your support.

(Richard was able to enter slowly, gently, and steadily. Kathy clasped his shoulders tightly with her hands in passion.)

NIXON Let us be united for peace. Let us also be united against defeat. Because let us understand--North Vietnam cannot defeat or humiliate the United States. Only Americans can.

Fifty years ago, in this room, and at this very desk, President Woodrow Wilson spoke words which caught the imagination of a war-weary world. He said: "This is the war to end wars."

(Richard began slowly but was now gradually accelerating the rate of his thrusts. Kathy would slowly and ecstatically moan from time to time.)

NIXON I have initiated a plan which will end this war in a way that will bring us closer to that great goal to which Woodrow Wilson and every American President in our history has been dedicated--the goal of a just and lasting peace.

(Richard was hoping he could sustain his erection as long as possible.)

NIXON . . . . mindful of your concern, sustained by your prayers.

Thank you.

8

They would probably get there around 3 A.M. The drive from Los Angeles was supposed to take about 8 hours. The place where the concert was going to be held was supposed to be near a racetrack, the Altamont Racetrack. It was near Tracy. Ironically, there was a current song hit about a girl with the same name. In the darkness of the night, it was hard to see very much of the fields and farms through which they were passing, but there were occasional glimpses of houses silhouetted against the velvety black, endlessly expanding sky. Most of the houses were dark, but there were many with lights shining through the windows, evidence that their inhabitants were still awake. It was the lights and reflections on the freeway that offered the most intriguing sights to the observer in the right frame of mind. Being stoned, like some of the riders in the car were, helped. There were periodic flashes and reflections of light from different sources and directions--from cars, signs, stripes, and markers. There were the ever present highway signs all along the way, and the large freight trucks rumbling steadily to their destinations as was their practice every night on the nation's highways.

"Long Time Gone" by Crosby, Stills, and Nash was playing on the car radio. The tone of the song was one of dejection mixed with subdued anger. It was typical of the smooth, polished style of the group.

                                             And it appears to be a long, appears to be a long,

                                             Appears to be a long

                                             Time, such a long, long time before the dawn.

They were riding in Wayne Fulmer's car. Wayne was Sheila Cates's boyfriend. Bob Farnsworth and Becky Friedman were also in the car. Sheila was their roommate. Richard and Marvin Jackson were the other two people in the car going to Altamont.

Sheila had been a UCLA student for two years but had not returned to school this fall. She had become bored with school not knowing why she was there and what she wanted to do with a college degree. She was bright and articulate but not very interested in the regimentation offered by daily attendance at college classes. She now wanted to try to support herself by selling the jewelry--mostly turquoise--that she enjoyed making so much. She found that she received great satisfaction from constructing something with her hands. She knew it wouldn't be easy and that she could never expect to make very much money, but she had decided that money really didn't matter that much to her. She had thought about it and calculated that she would never need very much money to live on. She didn't go for luxuries, and she didn't need a fancy home to live in. She was determined, however, to give selling her jewelry a real try. She had met Wayne last August.

Wayne had been in the Air Force until last year. He didn't have any work at the present time, but he liked to work in construction whenever there was a job to be found. He was trying to save money, but he found it hard to do. He planned to save enough money to be able to go live in a commune. He wanted to go out to live in a commune in New Mexico where he had some friends.

There were about a dozen people in the commune. They were trying to become a completely self-sufficient little community. They were trying to farm and make their own clothes and furniture. They were having a hard time. Only one person knew how to make furniture, and she was trying to teach the others. A few people knew about making clothes, but they didn't know very much. No one had ever done any farming before. Twenty people had been in the commune when it was formed, but several had left tired and disappointed.

Wayne knew about the problems, but he was still determined to go out there. He had told Sheila, "I'm just sick and tired of L.A. I mean living in a city and all. It's just a drag, you know. I think it'd really be outta sight to live in a commune, away from all the smog and traffic jams everyday."

"I know it'd be nice to get away from all the bullshit," replied Sheila. "A lot of people are doing it. It's a lot of work, though."

"I know we could make it, Sheila. It's possible. I know something about building houses. That could come in handy."

Marvin Jackson was riding in the back seat with Richard and Bob. Marvin was a tall and wiry black. He was a student at Los Angeles City College and had known Bob since high school. Marvin was tired of school just as Sheila was, but he didn't have much choice but to stay in school. If he dropped out, he knew he would be drafted soon afterward, so he stayed in and suffered through it as best he could. He liked some of his courses especially the psychology courses, of which he had taken several. Some of the material in the psychology textbooks was not very interesting--the material that was often referred to as "rat psychology." What caught Marvin's fancy more was the subject matter that dealt directly with individual behavior and emotions. He liked to find out about what made people tick, including himself.

The news was being given on the radio. There was a report on the recent developments relating to the killing of two members of the Black Panther Party in Chicago. The killings had occurred several days before. It had been reported at the time that the incident had occurred when the Chicago police had gone to the apartment where several Black Panthers were living. The police had gone because of a report that the Black Panthers were storing guns and ammunition in the apartment. The police said that they had knocked on the door and had been refused entry. Instead shots had been fired from the apartment. The police fired back and the two Panthers were killed in the melee.

The radio report now announced, "The Black Panthers and their lawyers are claiming that the police never knocked but instead broke into the apartment without warning. They claim that the police came in shooting and that one of the slain men was actually shot in his sleep."

BECKY (in consternation) Jesus, wouldn't be surprised if that was true. Those police in Chicago really are pigs.

SHEILA (angrily) Goddamn 'em.

BECKY Man, I still remember the way it was in Chicago last year.

WAYNE (cynically) Even if they find out that the police really just broke in like that, what are they going to do?

BECKY Nothing.

MARVIN They won't do anything, and the shit's gonna get worse before it gets any better. I heard some brothers think that Nixon is behind a plan to wipe out the Black Panther Party. I don't know how they think he's doing it, but I guess it could be through the F.B.I. or something.

SHEILA (after a moment of silence) Hey, have you heard about that thing that happened in some place called My Lai?

BOB Yeah.

SHEILA About some American platoon or company that shot a bunch of Vietnamese women and children. And they didn't have any good reason to do it at all. They just did it like that.

MARVIN How many people are they saying got shot?

SHEILA They don't know for sure. They're estimating anywhere from 100 to 500 people. Hey, Rich, you were there in Vietnam. Do you think that really could have happened?

RICHARD (slowly and reflectively) Yeah, it's possible. You know, that company was near where I was. I heard about that company when I was out there. I mean, I heard about the company itself. I never heard of that massacre. But I can believe that kind of thing happening. You get to really be suspicious of everybody because you know that not everybody is on your side. I never heard of anything that big, but I saw some civilians get shot. (Richard didn't feel like going into details about the incidents he had seen in Vietnam. He was feeling a little drowsy from the long ride, and didn't feel emotionally up for talking about his combat experiences. Besides, he wasn't sure anyone really wanted to hear the gory details. He wondered if there was any use in recounting them.)

BECKY I bet there are plenty of civilians that get shot--accidentally and not so accidentally. And it's happened in every war, even if they don't want to admit it. Have you heard about this new novel, Slaughterhouse Five.

BOB That's by Kurt Vonnegut, isn't it?

BECKY Yeah. It tells about the firebombing of Dresden by the Allies in World War II. Supposedly, there wasn't any important strategic reason for bombing the city. There were only civilians--and the Allies knew it. They bombed it anyway, probably just out of vindictiveness. 150,000 people were supposed to have been killed.

In less than an hour, they arrived at the scene where the concert was to be held. There were many cars that had already arrived with people now sleeping both inside and beside them. Wayne and Sheila stayed in the car to try to sleep a little before morning. Everybody else got out of the car to try to sleep on the ground. They had brought blankets. About 50 feet away, there was a couple in a sleeping bag. It was obvious by their movements that they weren't asleep yet. Becky brought her sleeping bag. As Richard tried to fall asleep, he thought about how he would have liked to be in Becky's sleeping bag with her. He found her sexy. It was a tight sleeping bag, and it would have made their bodies rub together very nicely. At first, he had not been very attracted to her because he had found her too abrasive. After some time, he found her more interesting. Nevertheless, she didn't seem to think very much of him in a romantic sense. He could sense it. She was cold toward him. Besides, she had recently started seeing some guy on a regular basis. Richard heard that she often went over to her new boy friend's apartment and spent the

night with him.

In the morning, thousands more people started to arrive. Richard and the others moved to a better place for seeing the concert. The concert was to start in the morning, and it would end around sundown. There were lights for seeing after it became dark, but the concert was nevertheless supposed to be for only one day. It would not last the way Woodstock the previous August had gone on for 3 days. The field became packed with people. People seemed to go out of their way to be friendly and "mellow." It was apparent that most people were aware of a general desire to make the day a pleasant, memorable experience. Persons smiled at each other readily even though they were complete strangers. There were some attempts to engage in commercial trade by a few individuals. The items being sold were not the usual ones found in most stores. There were some individuals trying to sell LSD and other hard drugs. Later on, a medical station was set up for those who overdosed, or O.D.'d as it was commonly called.

A boy came up to Wayne, "You want to buy some reds, man. I got some good stuff."

There were a few people who brought an assortment of homemade jewelry and leather goods and set them up on display. Sheila exclaimed, "Hey, look, I could have brought my stuff to try to sell."

Wayne answered, "It would've been too much hassle."

"You're right," admitted Sheila, "besides, it doesn't look like they're getting very much sold."

It was more common to see people sharing a few things like blankets, sandwiches, and marijuana. The smell of marijuana permeated the air. People were dressed in all different kinds of clothes. Most of them wore blue jeans that looked well worn. There was a wide variety of shirts. The most prevalent were the blue shirts that were known as work shirts or prison shirts. There were some flower print and paisley print shirts, cotton peasant shirts, sweat shirts, striped polo shirts, common everyday shirts, and military shirts. The military shirts had in many cases been bought in used clothing stores, like those of the Salvation Army or in Army surplus stores. Many of the military shirts still had all the insignias intact that had been put on them in the service.

Richard wondered why people who wore those shirts left the patches on. He personally didn't think it was a bad idea to wear old military shirts, but he couldn't see leaving the insignias on them. He didn't want to be reminded of the military that much. There was also something about it that seemed very ironic. He was certain that most of those who were wearing those old service shirts would heartily admit that they were against war and militarism. Yet, they wore military shirts that looked exactly as they did when they were worn by soldiers. It seemed to Richard that they would want to remove as many of the traces of the military as possible from the shirts. There were also many military type jackets--Army field jackets, Navy pea coats, parkas, dress uniform Army jackets, long overcoats. There were jean jackets, Western suede leather jackets with fringe, and a few black leather motorcycle jackets.

On feet were worn Army combat boots and jungle boots, hiking boots, high riding boots, Wellington boots, and dark brown, suede leather boots. There were cowboy hats, straw hats, leather flattop Western hats, bandanas, head bands, simple necklaces and bracelets of various kinds. The girls dressed essentially the same as the boys,