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Show S"03 made the war almost bearable. Perhaps he was afraid someone was reading his l e t t e r s - they had been censored once in awhile, when he told of operations which took them into Laos or when he described c e r t a i n bombing p r a c t i c e s near the DMZ. I couldn't t e l l anyone about the new development. I didn't want my parents to think Brian was a drug-user, a 'hippie.' So I told them he might be delayed for a couple of weeks to witness in a c o u r t - m a r t i a l. I wrote, expressing concern for h i s safety. Would he be held in the rear area? Would he be j a i l e d ? Several days passed before I received a reply. He could stay in the rear if he wanted- t o , but he d i d n ' t think he could stand i t. 'They're being tough on me,' he wrote, 'because they want me to re-up. And I c a n ' t stand having to polish my brass every day.' A week l a t e r he was back in the bush, near the DMZ. He wrote of the developments in his ' t r i a l ' - they were almost n i l . He changed lawyers twice in a two-week period. First one lawyer and then the other was sent home; t h e ir rotation had been approved. But my Brian was assigned a new counselor and held in a combat zone. "Why h a s n ' t he come home?" Everyone I met asked the luestion, so t h a t I began to dread seeing people. I couldn't answer for fear I would cry in front of them. Sometimes I would choke out the l i e that he was being held to witness in a courtmartial. Witness. His own witness. His only witness. I spent my days making appeals. I wrote l e t t e r s to his Commanding Officer which were never answered. I wrote l e t t e rs to senators and congressmen, asking for t h e i r help in cutting |