Beschrijving

I never intended for this to be a book. The thought of exposing my innermost secrets – issues and incidents that had been buried deep within my subconscious for more than four decades – did not appeal to me. I did it because I had no other choice. I have heard it said that the best, the most effective, and the least traumatic psychological disinfectant is sunlight. Dredging up half-baked rationalizations of actions in my distant past was not a pleasant project. I was having a hard time living with myself. My dreams were filled with dead uniformed men without eyes who stood in formation pointing their bony fingers towards me and accusing me of crimes, some of which I had and some of which I had not committed. I woke up screaming, frequently falling off the bed onto the hardwood floor. Occasionally, I had involuntary erections (one occurred this morning) which lasted several hours despite my efforts to become flaccid. I rarely slept for more than an hour or two at a time. Even Uno, my beagle, was upset by my strange unexplained behavior. Nor was I capable of having a relationship with a respectable, caring woman. Two marriages had ended in divorce. I could no longer plausibly deny that I was at fault.

Today, it is four decades later. When I was nineteen years old, I did not expect I would live long enough to see my twenty-first birthday. My platoon sergeant said there were two types of Military Policemen—the \