I shut my P.O. box and take my mail to the table to weed out the junk mail. Among the many catalogues is a letter from the U.S. government with URGENT stamped next to my address. I open the letter and it states that I am being assigned to a second tour in Vietnam and am to report immediately.

I step out of the post office and there is a water buffalo across the street standing among the trees for sale at Vineyard Gardens. A B52 flies overhead and a Huey Gunship lands in Cronig’s parking lot. To be heard over the loud roar of the helicopter, a lieutenant screams at me to get my ass on the chopper. I struggle with my heavy rucksack, ammo and M60 machine gun. Was it all really this heavy 50 years ago?

I board the chopper along with four other comrades from the past. Wow, we have aged. The lieutenant is yelling orders that we will be landing in a hot zone and to expect enemy fire. After flying along the Mekong River, our gunship rises above a tall grove of bamboo trees and proceeds to land near a village of grass-roofed hooches. The pilot and flight crew yell at us to jump as AK47 rounds strike our chopper, and I can hear the thud sound of bullets hitting the person next to me. The chopper is still 20 feet above the ground, but we jump anyway.

I hit the ground and wake up in my bed this morning, in a full sweat with my heart racing.

I lie in bed with a cool breeze blowing in my face. Robins and cardinals are singing outside my window and crows can be heard in the distance. I wearily walk to the bathroom and step into the shower and think about how soldiers I know volunteered for multiple duty tours in Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan. How did they do that, why did they do that? Returning to Vietnam is my worst nightmare.

I pour a cup of hot coffee and look out my window at my bird feeders and think it would be nice to see a hummingbird. I haven’t seen one yet this spring.

I take a sip of coffee and a hummingbird appears.