Bus ride

He was wearing the cap decorated with pins, like many of them do.

I walked down the aisle and sat next to him. I extended my hand out, thanked him for his service and told him my dad also served in Vietnam.

He fiercely stared at me, then his wrinkled hand slowly welcomed mines. He took his cap off and fiddled with it.

The bus stopped, he put his cap back on and got up. As I stood up to let him out he turned towards me.

“Here,” he told me. “So you remember the Hell I went through. Folks realizing what we did, better late than never, I suppose.”

A 1st Marine Division pin.

I thanked him, he gave a curt nod and slowly limped off the bus.