“Something I’ve discovered in myself now; I always sort of noticed that old warriors like you and Tib and Papo and Mr. Nelson and Mr. Menard and all the heroes of the Big War, you stayed what you were in the war. At heart, you’re still an artilleryman, and Tib’s still an engineer, and Mr. Menard still makes me think of a sailor. Now that I’m in a helicopter unit, I get a little uncomfortable when I see a tank down below us or one passes on the road. I guess tanks are in me now. I guess I’ll always be a tanker at heart. I’m beginning to wonder what I’ll do when I leave the army. I wonder how I’ll get by without my 52 ton security blanket. I guess I can always go to that park in Flat River and climb up on the M-41 and stand there and remember how it was to go charging over a field and knock down trees and spot aggressors or Charlie and blow out a round at the enemy, but I think when I can afford it I’ll build an ATV with a turret and head for the woods and fields when I feel the need to crunch something. It’s really weird, as much as I hate the army and then to love those big lumbering monsters so much…Much love, Dave”
–David Freeman, from a letter to his father, Arthur, from Vietnam: 22 July 1970
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