Booker was a fellow Black Lion. When I came across him in the jungle he was in shock, unresponsive and incoherent. He had multiple wounds, the worst being a major abdominal wound. I treated him for shock and tried to stop the bleeding and get fluids started. Once I had done all that I could, I got help from a rifleman in moving him to a staging area, where he would be safer and could be watched, and I moved on to treat other wounded soldiers. When I asked later I was told that he was still alive when he was evacuated. I prayed that he and others who made it out would survive. Days later I was told that Booker died on the way in to the hospital. They say that all prayers are answered, but sometimes the answer is "no". The news hit me like a physical blow. It made me feel as though I had failed him, as well as to wonder whether I could or should have saved other lives in the time that I spent working on him, a question to which there is no answer.

In 1989, as a Major in the Army, I was assigned to Ft. Meade, MD. After I got there I had a chance to visit The Wall for the first time. The first name I looked up in the locator was Booker's. To my surprise, I found out that his date of death was actually 18 Oct., not the 17th. He made it to the hospital, but his wounds and blood loss were too severe for them to save him, and he died early the next day. There was no "Ahah" moment, or feeling of vindication. Only sadness because a young man gave his all and WE failed to save him.

We lost so many good young men.