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I had joined the Marines on the "buddy plan" with literary my friend Steve, had sworn in a blood ceremony that we would stick together through boot camp and on to whatever awaited us in Vietnam. I was hungry. I was lean and mean. I was idealistic, patriotic, democratic; the walking embodiment of the Great American Hero. I was ready to do anything. literary I was a naive, young fool. Basically, I was stupid. But in the depths of my soul, I was sincere. The Navy snatched me back, and literary the Marines took Steve. I was stunned. I was ashamed. I have avoided Steve's mother to this day, although he had assured me long ago that she had gotten over that intense anger she had when she learned what I had done to her son. I was guilty of betraying and abandoning my best friend before I ever got a chance to be challenged. There was nothing to fight back against. I had been robbed of my dreams and had sent my best friend into deadly combat alone. There was nothing but shame for me. Not only had I screwed up my relationship with my father, who was so "Go Navy" that to him there really were no other branches of the service, but I had set up my best friend in the process.
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