I'm a big fan of Pat Conroy, having read all his books, The Prince of Tides, The Great Santini, The Lords of Discipline, and Beach Music.
My respect for me has grown even more since I read An Honest Confession by an American Coward.
In the darkness of the sleeping Kroboth household, lying in the third-floor guest bedroom, I began to assess my role as a citizen in the '60s, when my country called my name and I shot her the bird.
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I have come to a conclusion about my country that I knew then in my bones but lacked the courage to act on: America is good enough to die for even when she is wrong.
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After hearing Al Kroboth's story of his walk across Vietnam and his brutal imprisonment in the North, I found myself passing harrowing, remorseless judgment on myself. I had not turned out to be the man I had once envisioned myself to be.