In those first few days and weeks after the suicide, everyone we talked to was as shocked as we were. To this day nobody is sure what caused him to do it. I can only guess it was attributable to his sense of failure in overcoming the alcohol problem. The booze and the secrecy around it always caused chafing between him and my mother and me. I still bear a lot of guilt because of my conduct. What might I say to my father if I could? I'd say, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't more respectful. I'm sorry I wasn't a better son. I'm sorry I didn't treat him with the warmth I should have in spite of his drinking problem. Certainly his good qualities far outweighed what few bad things he did with his liquor- especially considering today's atmosphere. What he did was so minor. So, yeah, I owe him a hell of an apology.

Just before Christmas, 1944, we got word that the Germans had closed the circle around Bastogne. This meant that the 101st Airborne was now completely surrounded by the enemy. Dick Winters said once that being surrounded was no problem for paratroopers- we were used to that. For me, it's hard to describe the feeling of isolation. The heavy fog meant that we were cut off from any help from the sky. We were alone, out in the woods, surrounded, with desperately low supplies. We were in day-to-day survival mode. Build the occasional fire. Melt some snow. Find something to eat. Cook it in your helmet. Stay out of harm's way. Just do what you need to do to get through the day.

Sergeant Bill Guarnere sat with me on many of those nights. He was much more softhearted than he ever let on. In the series, it shows us together in a foxhole. In the background we can hear the Germans singing "Silent Night" not far away from us. I hand Guarnere a picture of my girlfriend back home, lamenting to Bill that she was finished with me- just in time for Christmas. I don't remember that ever happening, but this often did: Bill and I were supposed to take turns staying awake and sleeping. Often I'd wake up and he'd say in his South Philly accent, "Aw, go back to sleep, Lieutenant. I got it." I'd protest, but he'd always insist.

Although I was affected by the horrors of Bastogne, I do not believe I was clinically shell shocked, as the series portrays me. In real life, while I was hollering for the medic, trying to figure out what to do, I remember two distinct thoughts: How are we going to help the wounded guys?...Maybe this is the time the Germans are really going to get us all.

To try to distinguish between our objectives in World War II and the war we are fighting today- that one war was justified and the other isn't- is a complete fallacy. All wars are wars of choice. The Revolutionary War was a war of choice- we could have stayed British subjects if we had wanted. Equally so, we could have chosen not to fight World War II if we had wanted. But there were compelling reasons to fight both the Revolutionary War and World War II, as there are compelling reasons to fight the war against terror today.