"Yes?"

"Do you have any relatives in Nam?"

"Yes," Edwards said, "I do."

"First Air Cav?"

"Yes."

"Is his name Grant?"

Edwards nodded as the elevator suddenly slowed to a stop.

"Your brother?" The door opened. "I thought so," the trooper said, obviously pleased.

"You sort of look like him."

"Come on," Edwards said pleasantly, holding the door.

"I saw him about three weeks ago. There isn't a better platoon leader in the whole cav. But I can tell you this, they were handing him some shit to do, when I saw him. His unit was on their way to getting their ass whipped."

" Are you sure, Grant? Why don't you go into Tokyo? You only have a few days for your R and R. You might as well have a good time. "

" But, I want to see what you're doing. "

" It's not nice. "

He had been surprised at how well Grant had handled himself in the burn unit. He had seen more than one visitor walking through the ward trying desperately to be natural, moving stiffly from bed to bed, smiling and talking as if the boys weren't burnt at all. When Grant visited, there were two ghastly 90 per cent burns stretched out, blistered and dying on their Stryker frames. Grant had stopped to talk to them and stayed with each much longer than he had to. He was very much at case. He didn't ignore their wounds, or pretend not to see that they were so obviously dying. He simply talked to them, interestedly and honestly with a concern so palpable that no one could doubt his sincerity. He was one of them and, for a moment, watching his brother sitting by their frames, Edwards felt suddenly very much outside it all. He was very proud of his younger brother.