brooke grant

There is no soul in these eyes, only pure hatred and the horrors of Vietnam. Her past haunts her day to day, the gunshots still ringing in her ears, the comrades still screaming and falling one by one. She was used as a tool for war, a pawn in the game of chess. Disposable and forgotten yet she survived, Out of all people she did because she had determination. She was trained to be a killer but deep down she always was, war changes lifes and makes conflict. She has experienced this pain and lives to regret her actions, She always recalls when she witnessed her best friends arm get blown off, heard his heart stop, his last breaths, his final words. History doesn’t remember the soldiers, they remember the fights.