A long, long time ago, in a land far, far away, a young American soldier lay bleeding on the battlefield of a small Southeast Asian country. At that very moment, halfway around the world, his mother awoke from a dream in which she had been watching the CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite. In the dream, she witnessed details of the battle in which her son was wounded and later told family members of her dream, including her own mother who lay dying of cancer in a hospital in Louisiana. A series of incredible events would follow the dream, and within 48 hours of being wounded the young soldier had left the steamy jungle behind and stood at the bedside of his beloved granny as she took her last breath.Thirty-two years ago, I was that young soldier. Today, I still have difficulty telling the story of my Granny and my mother's dream. But the recent tragic death of an old friend in the cold waters of an Alaskan bay has prompted me to recall the story of my grandmother and my friend, the Eskimo, who lay beside me in the heat of battle on that day, long ago. Granny and the Eskimo were guardian angels, and they saved my life that day in Vietnam.In Granny and the Eskimo: Angels in Vietnam, I attempt to tell my children about a part of their father's life during the Vietnam War which had intentionally been kept from them. Although the story was written for young adults, people of all ages and walks of life will find themselves on an emotional roller coaster. Indeed, the reader will find Granny and the Eskimo: Angels in Vietnam a hard book to put down until the last page is turned and the last tear is wiped.


