The average age of the combat GI in many units here is 18½. And what a man he is! A pink-cheeked, tousle-haired, tight-muscled fellow who under normal circumstances would be considered by society as half man, half boy, not yet dry behind the ears. But, here and now, he is the beardless hope of free men.

Generally he is unmarried and without possessions except for a car at home and a transistor radio here. He listens to rock and roll and 105s. He’s learned to like beer because it’s the thing to do and it’s often cold. He smokes, too, because the Army has included cigarettes in his field rations.

He can break down a rifle in 30 seconds and put it back together again in 29. He can describe the nomenclature of a fragmentation grenade, explain how a machine gun operates, and of course, use either if the need arises. He can also dig foxholes and apply professional first aid to a wounded companion.

He obeys now, without hesitation. But he is not broken. He has seen more suffering than he should have in his short life. He has stood among hills of bodies and he has helped construct those hills. He has wept in private and in public, and he has not been ashamed in either place, because his pals have fallen in battle and he has come close to joining them.

He will share his water with you if you thirst, break his rations in half if you hunger, split his ammunition if you are fighting for your life. He can do the work of two civilians, draw half the pay of one and find ironic humor in it all. He has learned to use his hands as a weapon and his weapon as his hands. He can save a life, or most assuredly take one.

What a man he is…

— Tom Tiede, Newspaper Enterprise Association
Hawaii Lightning News, February 4, 1966