Summer, 1970

It's unbearably hot on the beach when you're stuck there. The sun blazing down from a painfully blue sky onto South Carolina sand is a lot different from the sun Over There. Over There, you've got a decent chance of the jungle breaking up the direct sunlight, leaving you with the heat and the sweat. It's the heat of Hell, humid and dank. But you aren't baking like you do on the beach.

Danny Carver felt naked in his swim trunks. He was so used to Army greens and heavy boots that the sun on his thighs prickled like a thousand pins. His dog tags were hot against his chest; he didn't know why he kept wearing them, but without them he felt more naked than he did now. They were a constant reminder of what he no longer was, but also brought the sense of brotherhood he had known through those eighteen months of Hell. He didn't want to go back, but he felt he didn't belong anywhere else anymore.

He certainly didn't want to be staring at the Atlantic on a hot summer day. Carol had dragged him down from Raleigh to her family's beach house to recuperate and break out of the funk he'd been in since he got home.

What did she know?

Danny wondered why she was even still around. Probably felt sorry for him. Like everyone else felt sorry for him. Or slid their eyes away and edged past as though he wouldn't notice. It wasn't like they called him a baby killer. They didn't yell that at the men coming off the hospital planes. They just looked at him with pity in their eyes and shook their heads and recalled the homecoming game when he had run 83 yards for the winning touchdown. Running like that hadn't helped him much Over There.

Carol told him she loved him all the time. He didn't believe her. He hadn't said it back since his return. Why should she love him? He wasn't of any use to anyone now. It would have been better if he hadn't made it out of that rice paddy. Carol could have moved on.

A shadow fell across Danny's lap about the same time a brightly colored beach ball rolled innocently onto the blanket he was seated on. Danny squinted into the sun and saw a small girl in a green and orange dotted one piece. Her brown hair was long and wild, her entire body covered in sand. She was about seven.

"Can I have my ball, Mister?"

Danny narrowed his eyes and glared at her. "Get it yourself."

The girl stepped onto the blanket and retrieved the ball. As she straightened, he saw her eyes move across his legs without reaction and up to his chest. She pointed at his chest. "You're a military mister, aren't you?"

Danny touched his dog tags and flushed. "I ain't no more." Anger rose in him, anger at those who had sent him off to fight a war that made no difference to the people who dotted the beach near him, least of all to this little girl.

"You sure are lucky, Mister." The girl nodded her head in agreement with her own pronouncement.

Danny caught himself just as he started to curse. "How do you figure, kid?"

The girl nodded again. "My Daddy's a military mister. He flies airplanes. Only he's missed the action and can't come home. Mommy cries a lot."

It took Danny a second to realize she meant missing in action. As he processed this, a woman came dashing up. She was pretty, and looked barely old enough to have a child. Her face was lined with the weight of grief. Her eyes took Danny in with a single sweep, and she blushed a deep red.

"Anna. Don't bother the gentleman." Her voice shook and Danny noticed tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she said to him. "She talks a lot. She wasn't ... rude, was she?"

"No Ma'am. She wasn't no bother," Danny replied.

The woman tucked the ball under her arm and took Anna's hand and started to walk away. Anna waved to Danny, who waved back. A second later, the woman stopped. She glanced back at him.

"I don't know if you've heard this." Her voice was soft. "But welcome home, soldier." She turned again and walked away before Danny could reply.

Danny stared out at the ocean for a long silent time. Finally, he got his crutches and struggled to stand. It was awkward to maneuver through the soft sand towards the steps to the house, and he still had trouble climbing the stairs with only one leg. But he felt a new determination to learn. Maybe he wasn't as whole as when he'd left for Nam. But at least he'd come home.

He headed toward the house to tell Carol he loved her.