On May 13th, 1967, I was shot through my upper right thigh, shattering my femur and almost severing my leg. I celebrate this day every year because it was the day I almost died but through God’s grace, I have lived this half century more. I was a twenty-one year old Lance Corporal (E-3) in the Marines serving as an Artillery Scout (an enlisted Forward Observer) with Golf Company 2nd Battalion, 1st Marines (2/1) about 16 kilometers Southwest of Danang, Vietnam. Our company was on a local sweep a little north of Hill 55, following the edge of the Song...