The above short story was sent to me over a year ago. I have thought of it many times, as I too have watched helplessly as men died in aircraft explosions. In a way it typifies what War Stories is meant to be in that a lingering memory of 30 years can have as much power as a well written event. It is, in its way, a simple tale that touches the button that revives a fellow brother's memory and his acknowledgment: . . . that's the way I remember it too.