I I WAS PRIVILEGED to know Lance Corporal Rick Eilert

as a marine and as a human being, since I was his orthopedic surgeon at

the time of his transfer to Great Lakes Naval Hospital. His story is not

unique, but his sense of humor, courage, and facility in recall are exem-

phry.

The American involvement in Vietnam was grave and extensive. Op-

position to the war ultimately split the country, forcing a president to

decline to seek reelection. Despite these well-publicized differences at

home, the American fighting man, typified by Rick Eilert, by and large

continued to do his duty to the fullest extent of his ability. As Rick

learned, one s duties and responsibilities to self and country are often

more odious in a protracted rehabilitation=hospital setting than on a

battlefield. But Rick is unique in that he recognized early the necessity

for this story to be written as a talisman for the uncounted men whose

stories, however important, will never be told.

When I was asked to write the Foreword to For Self and Country, I

was profoundly honored. As a medical officer in Vietnam, I knew well

the faces of the wounded and the depression that inevitably followed as

the wounded fighting man gradually became aware of the awful finality

of a crippling injury. The courage displayed in these circumstances was

often of the highest kind, combined in this case with the rarest and most

precious gift of all, the ability to laugh at oneself.

The opportunity to serve in the treatment and rehabilitation of men

such as Rick remains one of my most precious memories. I would like

to say to Rick Eilert and his comrades, on behalf of every American,