He was on a three-day pass and spent it trying to forget why he was in this country to begin with. He ordered another drink and turned a quick glance at his friend Billy, who was sitting at a table near the door with a young Vietnamese girl. Billy was an oversized, clumsy farm boy from the Midwest who thought himself a charmer with the ladies. But he was also tough, honest and brave, good qualities a man needed in this place and a friend needed in a buddy. Miguel and he had stuck close since being sent to the same unit in Nam. Smiling and shaking his head at his friend, Miguel turned back to his fresh drink and took a swig. Something brushed against his leg and he looked down from the tall barstool to see a small beggar boy, one arm missing, his face grotesquely disfigured, carrying a small bag looking up at him. Miguel just turned away from the boy and he continued on his way looking for handouts. Young children, deformed and missing limbs, were all over Saigon; one of the cruelties of this damn war.
