En route to Little Rock airport en route to Dallas I stopped at the Pilot in West Memphis, whereupon I noticed an elderly man a pump down from me whose car's bumper-sticker and whose hat suggested him to be an Iwo Jima veteran of now 60 years and so understanding, was impressed to meet him and so, extending the right hand of fellowship, I put my left hand on his shoulder and first expressed my favorite hobby of reading books on American military history and then more importantly and to the point extended my remarkable and sincerest gratitude for his service for our country, and intentionally avoided saying I appreciated his sacrifice because I knew he would in his mind reply to such a remark "this poor, innocent boy knows not of what he speaks," and then offered my thankfulness that there were still people like him around that we could talk to in person, and he replied, with an almost inaudible chuckle which spoke suppressed sorrow for the loss of his comrades, "well, there's not many of us around anymore" - and as soon as I drove off I hit myself on the head, wishing I had offered to at least buy for him his gas.