I attended Kenny Orton's funeral in Santa Rosa a few years ago. He joined the Army out of high school, joined a special reconnaissance unit, went out on a mission and was the only one in his unit to return alive. He was pretty shaken, but he finished his stint in the Army, came home, obtained an engineering degree and went to work for (I think GE) out in the Valley. He then went back to school and got a teaching credential, taught high school math somewhere out in the Valley (Fresno, maybe), became an assistant principal, and then an assistant to the superintendent of schools. Then he started suffering from post traumatic stress syndrome, began drinking heavily, and became borderline homeless. Out of the blue, he called me one day (I hadn't talked to him in thirty-five years). A few days later, Jack Stoddard (a member of our class through our junior year) called me, coincidentally, looking for Kenny to clarify some material for one of his books (they met while they were in Viet Nam - I hadn't talked to Jack in ten years either). I put them in touch with each other and Kenny went down to visit Jack. Jack helped him dry out and put him to work helping to market one of his books. All was well for about a year. We met and had dinner in Burlingame about three years ago or so. Then Kenny fell back off the wagon and basically drank himself to death. Jack arranged for members of the 11th Calvary Regiment to drive up from Southern California to serve at Kenny's funeral and fire a gun salute in his honor.