Thousand-yard stare

The memories of 'nam never fade: the fear, the sound of helicopters, the smell of napalm and defoliant, the charred heaps that used to be human beings. He can't forget: for him as for so many it will never be in the past.

Yes, I know, the internet does not need more cat pictures. But he has made such fantastic progress: in March we were feeding a ragged homeless cat in the garden, in freezing conditions. Occasionally, if we moved slowly, he would let us within ten feet of him before running. Always he was watching for enemies. Today he is sleeping in an old bread oven two feet from me well-fed, warm and friendly.

He will always have the scars and damage from his five tours of duty. The twitches, the fear of alleys and rooms with only one door. He will always wake sweating and screaming from some dream of burning and blood. But he will, most of the time, be normal.