He would not be treated gently in a prisoner of war camp. He would not be killed. Unlike me, perhaps, he would live to return to his family. For him, ...he war was over.For me, the war ended 153 days later, when a passenger jet took me to Washington National Airport. Out in the field, when I was counting down the number of days until my return to “the world,” which was what we called the United States, the bar at Washington National Airport attained mythic proportions. That was because I had. It's a bit out of your way, but if you could drop it off on your way back, that would be perfect." She smiled. "Think of it as a little reward for the driving." Is it that obvious?"Mrs. Hitchins nodded. "Don't think I didn't consider taking them myself." One delivery coming up."She found Art, a muscular guy, near the supply cabinet. His eyes lit up when she mentioned the trip. "Sure. Will I need anything?"She eyed his shoulders. "I think you've already got what we need."The load for the South. More

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