The following is an example. I was typing all his articles for him so he could put them in book form and I remember typing this one - it stood out amoung many and I remember crying as I typed it over 13 years ago:
General Westmoreland Writes That He is 'Deeply Distressed'
By William Gordon
The earliest photo in the family album shows him as a youngster holding a pet skunk on the summery lawn of his backyard.
There are more formal shots of him, too, portraits. He has a very wide grin, a boyish, ingratiating grin, just a bit mischievous. It's obvious from these that he's all boy.
Ohter pictures show him growing up; nothing formal, just routine snapshots, the kind everybody has of their kids. He looks a bit gangly in these. Never had much weight on his bones. There's one snap of him playing with his dog.
Then there is a long photographic gap. It was as if he was too busy in his adolescence to stop for the camera. These were his best years, his happy, running, swimming, playing years.
After that you find him suddenly in the uniform of the U.S. Army. He has finished basic training at Ft. Dix and the official Army photo of him is just like all those you have seen of your brothers and sons--unsmiling, military cap pulled down over his eyes, his blouse looking as if it had just come off the shelf at Supply.
Looks a Bit Pale
He looks a bit pale in this picture, prematurely serious, a trifle lost in the strange new world of the Army.
Then he is Airborne. And the black-and-white photo of him at the training camp shows a striking change. He's tanned, deeply, and more mature looking. He is sitting on the barracks steps holding a grease-gun. His look is not grim. It's just settled.
Tucked beneath the plastic folds of the album is his personal history recorded on an Army form. It says that his very first job was jerking sodas in his hometown icre cream emporium.
A long interlude puts him in Vietnam. He performs well and comes home safely after his tour.
The next snaps, in color, show him at home on furlough. He is tanding on the lawn again. It is summer. He is in khaki. He is unsmiling in most of the pictures. But in one he has his arm around a pretty blonde girl in Bermuda shorts. In this one he has a trace of a grin on his young face. He is 19.
There is a mimeographed letter on the next page -- the kind the Army wiseacres put out, alerting parents to the return of their son from Vietnam.
"Humor him upon his return," the letter says. "Be sure to lock him up at the first sign of rain as he mnight grab his soap and run nude into the front yard." This being the only way to shower in Vietnam.
Checking for Mines
"Don't get angry if he starts poking around in the flower bed and digging jup the front yard. He's just checking for booby traps and land mines." It goes on like this at length.
The Army sends him to Germany. He spends six months there struggling all the time to get back to Vietnam. He writes letters to high places and finally gets his wish.
While back home on furlough again, all his friends tgry to talk him out of it. He'll have none of it. He is drawn to teh war as a nail to a magnet.
He is back in Vietnam. The next document in the album is a letter of recommendation from his company commander. "He is a man who knows what to do, how to do it, and he gets it done," he said. "His morale, appearance and attitude are beyond reproach."
That was in June. Months pass. Then comes a telegram. "The Secretary of the Army has asked me to express deep regret that your son died in Vietnam as the result of gunshot wounds received while on combat operations when hit by hostile automatic weapons fire. Please accept my deepest sympathy."
This came in the fall. Another telegram followed, giving the local funeral home instructions to pick up the casket.
Presidents Wire
The President of the United States writes, "I have learned with deep regret...."
Gen. W.C. Westmoreland writes that he is "deeply distressed."
Gov. Hughes expresses "heartfelt sympathy." He goes on to say that "the people of New Jersey realize that they owe an unpayable debt of gratitude for the great sacrifices your son has made for his country and in the cause of freedom."
There are elogquent letters from generals, from New Jersey senators and congressmen --"Distressing"..."there is no more poignant grief..."
The captain of the soldier's company writes: "Your son was killed instantly in the first few seconds of contact with the enemy while on a search and destroy mission." This letter, too, goes under the plastic in the black album.
The family is disbelieving. They do not think their boy died this way. Dead, yes, but not this way. And they are proven right.
A month goes by and the company commander writes again. "After investigation of the battle, the study revealed that we sent some erroneous information to you... We found that your son did not succumb in the initial burst of enemy fire. But rather, he fought fiercely against an overwhelming enemy force for a period of 30 minutes which allowed the remainder of his comrades to escape an otherwise hopeless situation."
And a week ago, another letter came from the U.S. Army adjutant in Washington. "I have the honor to inform you," he said, "that your son has been awarded posthumously the Bronze Star Medal with First Oak Leaf Cluster for heroism."
Other Documents
There are other documents and articles in the album which the family wants to serve as a memorial for the soldier. There is a letter sent to him in a pink evelope from his sister. It's stamped in red ink "Verified Deceased, Return to Sender."
And there are the boy's shoulder patches and insignias, Christmas cards he sent, newspaper clippings reporting hsi death, and sundry other momentoes of a boy who died at 20.
But what stands out is the cold-looking Army document announcing his death and the diffident-looking photos of him playing with his dog on the lawn of his home in the summer, with the leaves all green and young behind him.
