The day was January 1rst, 1975. We had just spent a whole day trying to navigate to a safe town, village, or really anything that would grant us to a good night’s sleep.
We had been ambushed by enemy troops two days ago when we were trying to get out of ‘Nam. Almost the entire squadron was killed. Now, it's just Private Leonard Church, and Major Flowers, and I. Most of the soldiers we lost were good friends.
We came across a village last night when we were hiking. Flowers told us to find a vantage point so that we could make sure it is safe.
“I’ll  scout the town from this bush,” I remember Flowers saying whilst pointing toward a bush on the cliff. “You two make some grub. I’m afraid it’ll be another long night.” Flowers took the binoculars and leapt into the bushes. 
I instructed Church to get out his dehydrated food, as it was all we had. We quickly prepared the meal. Afterwards, we went over to Major Flowers and asked him what to do.
“I think my judgement was wrong. We should be able to make it over to a hotel over there, so long as we blend in and don’t look hostile.” With that, we left.
After hiking down the hill, we went into the town. We looked and looked until we found a hotel just on the other side of the street. I felt a rush of relief course through my veins. “Get down!” Private Church screameds at the top of his lungs. Without hesitation, I jumped over a car, Church in my front, and Flowers in my back.
I heard a loud BANG and realize that a grenade was thrown right at us. I looked over to see who had done it. Two young men were running away. I lifted my gun and fired away, with no success. The assailants got away.
We entered the hotel, realizing that a good night’s sleep may be impossible. “If people keep on attacking us like that, we aren’t going to be able to get any evac.” I said.
“Just have hope,” Church said in his abnormally cheerful voice. That hope actually paid off. It got us through the night. Instead of thinking about the worst we thought of the best and sleptWhen the day was ending, we decided that sleep is a necessity. “Without it we have no chance of making it to a possible L.Z.,” Church explained.
“That’s a good idea, Private,” Flowers responded. We all settled down. I couldn’t remember the last time I had slept this soundly.
Right as I was’m about to remember, a woman walks in. “Do you know who I am?”
“House keeping?” I reply.
“No, I’m your daughter,” she says, “You have dementia. It’s 2016.” I realize that she’s right. I am lying in a bed in a hospital, not a hotel. All of a sudden, I realize that Church and Flowers are not here. My skin is all wrinkled, my hip hurts, I have false teeth. All of this time, I’ve been thinking of my life forty-one years ago.