One morning in Saigon she'd asked what it was all about 'This whole war,' she said, 'why was everybody so mad at everybody else?'

I shook my head. 'They weren't mad exactly. Some people wanted one thing, other people wanted another thing.'

'What did you want?'

'Nothing,' I said. 'To stay alive.'

'That's all?'

'Yes.

Autore: Tim O'Brien