I would have killed him, calmly, cooly, with no remorse

In late December 1966, after almost a month in Vietnam, soldiers in Air Cav Troop began receiving mail on a regular basis. Two or more letters a week were good, but more letters would be better.

That thought led me to write a letter to the editor at the Dallas Morning News, the largest paper by far in North Texas. In the letter I said that we would always welcome more mail, and people who wanted to write could address letters to Air Cav Troop, 11th Armored Cavalry, and then APO SF and the number. A soldier, I said, would answer every letter.

I figured it was a good idea, because soldiers would get more letters, and civilians back home would be connected with soldiers. I expected the letter to be published. I expected letters to begin arriving at the regimental mail room in such numbers that would require pickup in a three-quarter ton truck, rather than the mail clerk using a quarter-ton jeep.

I was wrong. One letter arrived, addressed to me.

The editor who replied referenced my letter and then said, “We recommend you buy an ad.”

I read the letter again. I said, “Huh.” I thought: I sent the letter to a Texas newspaper because I am Texan, and I figured another Texan would understand my suggestion and agree.

At that point, I knew that if the man who suggested I buy an ad were standing there in front of me, I would calmly, without any anger whatsoever, put my hands around his throat and strangle his life from him. Calmly, coolly, completely absent of anger.

I do not remember the man’s name. He was a worthless person, an oxygen thief.

“We recommend you buy an ad.”