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B.H. left his view Oct. 9, 2016 -- re:  Excerpt 1 -

A pretty intense  reading, Joanne. You seem to hit everything spot on. I tend to agree with your dad's response, particularly with my own experience as a teen, as a father and then a grandfather. But having raised to daughters I also understand how feelings of teens can feel so legitimate. I need to think some more. I was living in San Francisco when Bobby Kennedy was killed, trying to make sense out of my own inner battles. By the way... not trying to be a jerk, but it was Barry McGuire who performed "Eve of Destruction," no Bob Dylan

Eagles of the Rainbow:  An Awesome Hybrid Volume 3 

Excerpt 2 - 

​Then, Alice adds, “I remember how my eldest brother cheered when he heard about the Atomic Bombs being dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  I will never be able to erase those two August dates from my memory.  Of course, we all wanted that horrible War to end; but, what a price.”

Joanne’s voice quivers as she says, “Just figuring the number of casualties, it’s estimated there were between 100,000 to 180,000 for Hiroshima and between 50,000 to 100,000 for Nagasaki.  That word, ‘casualties’ sounds so harmless.  But, imagine, for a minute, any of us, any of our family and friends being victims of those blasts.  The burns would've been painful enough; but, the horrible vomiting and pain felt from the radiation poison would’ve been unimaginable.  And that radiation went on to affect future generations.  I read how Japanese miscarriages increased from like 7% to 27% for years after the blast.  Imagine all the birth defects that resulted.”

So remorseful, Bobby’s barely audible.  “There were so many babies born with deformed bone structures, prenatal blindness/deafness, stunted brain growth, lifelong heart and lung problems.”

Alice gulps back tears.  “Just looking back to The Tet Offensive, launched on January 30, 1968, through to today, over 16,000 Americans have been killed and 45,000 wounded.  As far as civilians, there has be at least 5,000.  And what about casualties and injuries of the North Vietnamese, People’s Army of Vietnam?  Surely, there have been hundreds and thousands.  How horribly ironic is it that that brutal military campaign was launched on the Vietnamese New Year Day, 1968?  How could they start a new year with so much slaughter?  Yet, the deaths and casualties of those two days in August 1945, are at least three times those deaths and casualties of these past five months since the Viet Nam War's Tet Campaign started.  I still can’t get my head around it all.  How can we be so unmoved by the 150,000 to 280,000 deaths that happened in those two days?   Yet, look at how many people still hate all Japanese.  When will compassion replace ignorant hatred?”

Joanne stares at the vase full of flowers as if looking at those injured and killed during the Atomic Bombing of 1945, and as if looking at those injured and killed so far, in the Viet Nam War.  Painful shame, sadness and anger line her face.

Jessie wipes a tear from his cheek.  “I… I just never th-th thought about all that.  After so many people have been maimed and killed… We owe them something for their sacrifices.  The least we can do is to wipe all racial prejudices from our minds.  I wonder…” 

He drops his head, ashamedly.  “I wonder how many Americans would’ve cheered if bombing, say, San Francisco or New York, had ended WWII?”

Completely bewildered, he looks directly into Bobby’s eyes.  “It is such an atrocity that we do not stop, for a day, every August 6th, to pray for forgiveness and to pray for all those so terribly those two days, in 1945.  I mean, God help us if we ever do that again.”

Bobby’s eyes water as he looks, with a tinge of pride, into Jessie’s face.  He pats Jessie’s back.  “I can tell you really mean that.”

“Son.”  Bobby has never called any boy ‘son,’ before.  But, for some reason, he feels compelled to call Jessie, ‘son.’ 

“Son, let me share with you something that screamed from deep within me, back when I was even younger than you… Back with I was just thirteen.  I thought I was off on a boyish adventure – joining that Guerrilla Fighting band of boyhood friends…”

Some words gush from his soul, up his heart - “I am NOT Filipino! I am NOT American! I am a HUMAN BEING… no less… no more. I am COUNTRY-LESS… nationality-less; for I am thrown-into a stinkin’ war. Like all of my friends, like all of those so-called ‘enemies’… am a Victim of War!”

Jessie’s face equals the rage seen in Bobby’s face.