So I’m Walter Cronkite, dig? And it’s February 27, 1968, and I’m saying, the U.S. is mired in a stalemate in Vietnam, and you are there.
But whoa, let’s back up twenty-nine days to the Lunar . Now we know the Vietnamese call it Tet, but the Chinese own it: , they call it. This year it’s significant for Paul because on this night his dad grabs his heart like it’s been antipersonnel-mined with a BLU-43, what you call , like it was waiting there in one of those jungle paths, waiting for someone to put his toe on the de-toe-nator, and There’s firecrackers busting all up and down Grant Avenue, so Paul can’t hear his
