My name is Robin Silas McCallister, and I am an American soldier in the Vietnam War. That is all I will say on that topic for now, as my true feelings concerning this matter will come to light eventually. I am 19 years old, born in October on the 13th, of 1945. I suppose I should introduce my background now.
I had just been accepted to an art school in California when my draft number had been called. My father is just a grocer and a construction worker, so he had no pull whatsoever with the community bigwigs like my friend's father, the mayor, did. Though I guess I shouldn't blame him, Charles, too much for being born into the family he was. Charles is gonna be a big shot lawyer, marry a pretty girl, and have a nice little house surrounded by a white picket fence when he graduates-while I'm stuck here, fighting a war I don't support.
My little brother Wally is the only one in our family that has a shot at a good life. He wants to be a doctor, and I'd bet my whole life savings that he'll be the first in our family to get into college. My mother is mighty proud of the both of us, but she never really understood why I pursued my art. She always thought it was a frivolous pursuit, but said, "If you found a future in drawing pictures, then I'll try my hardest to see those dreams come true."
Hopefully I'll make it back alive to prove her right, and see my brother wear a cap and gown. I can't leave my father all alone care for those two. He's barely making end's meat as it is.
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