Not my very best day since then, but certainly the best day up to that point in my young life. I had survived several days of straight fighting, didn't lose a man during that few days (medic) and was waiting for a re-supply chopper. We received a duffle bag full of ice chunks and soda/beer, and a mix of C rats and LLRP meals, along with mail.
We went on to more fighting, and eventually one of the men in this photo was to fall, on Hamburger Hill. Of the others, I have been able to locate them all but one. Heady days of high adventure, grueling combat, and small joys.
Since those days, I have had many glory days. Days measured by accomplishments, victories, pride in the accomplishments of those I was privileged to tutor/mentor, and the sense of accomplishment in a job well done, or a bad day survived.
Some people still walk because of my efforts, I take some pride in that.
Much of what I would describe as Glory Days had more to do with who I was with, and what we were doing together. The team in a steaming jungle, the team in a busy ER, my partner in a river rescue, or on a steep ground evac. or the small and great adventures my wife of 43 years and I have shared. A good life to look back on.
