I am driving a jeep in the country. The land is green and dotted with old wooden houses. I park near Doug C. and his friend. We begin talking. I hear chopper blades and look up. A Huey with Red Cross markings prepares to land close by. I say to Doug, "Oh God, it's a Medevac." Then I am in a bar crowded with soldiers. I recognize several men, though I mistake one man for someone else. I take a long swig from a bottle. I am crying. I want the men to see this. I want the man mistaken for someone else to see this.