Publisher's Synopsis
Most soldiers like Jon learned to keep his mouth shut and silently toast his fallen comrades once a year at the dinner table, or maybe even manage to slip away and journey to the nearest local veteran's cemetery on Memorial Day to see all of those tiny American flags lined up dress right dress, waving row upon row across the grassy manicured fields. Jon didn't listen to the speeches being made, but rather just looked glassy eyed across the green covered memorial park as his mind searched for the faces that he had long ago forgotten... Yes there is a special look in a soldier's eye that tells another soldier that he has been there and has been baptized by fire. We call it seeing the tiger. Jon has seen the tiger, and as Jon's hair turns gray, and his body wrinkles from age, his dear friend Frank who lives at Fiddler's Green will always remain that twenty-two year old kid wearing his black beret and flashing that big smile.
