In the sixties and early seventies, the Army drafted thousands of young men right out of college. After a brief stint of training, they were told they were officers and gentlemen capable of leading men into combat. Those that believed this nonsense were dangerous. The rest were terrified. These poor guys were then dropped into the shitstorm that was the Vietnam War with no real combat experience. The troops they were sent to lead had more "in country" combat experience than the Second Lieutenants sent to lead them. These naive lieutenants were asked to make life or death decisions. Most did the best they could. Nevertheless, mistakes were bound to happen and men would die. It was a terrible burden to put on a young Platoon Leader. Welcome to the United States Army. Second Lieutenant John Wilton was one of these Platoon Leaders. He didn't give a damn about the war, but he cared deeply for his men. John made good decisions and bad ones. For a time his Horsemen platoon wreaked havoc through the Central Highlands of Vietnam. It was his bad decisions that got him sent home wounded both physically and spiritually. John, like so many returning Vets, didn't adjust well. One foot in Texas and one still in Vietnam, good decisions and bad. He found a unique way to manage his problems. Was it a good way, who's to say?
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