The definition of "humanitarian intervention" really, really, depends on your perspective: During the Second World War, I had the unmitigated pleasure to observe the British and American destruction of the beautiful city of Dresden from a nearby hill, approximately 10 kilometers from the doomed city. We had arrived in Dresden only a few hours ago, and were fed, wined, and dined by a friendly group of red cross ladies, who were doomed to be murdered by British and American bombers. Even on this date, after surviving my "special war" as Advisory Team Leader in Vietnam, the destruction of Dresden was my darkest hour on this planet. You may wonder why I even considered joining the US Army and why I fought for those who killed my friends in Dresden. Unfortunately, I do not know. Though time often heals old wounds, I should have identified with the civilians in Vietnam, who took up arms against the United States. To some extent, I did: During my last mission near Cu Chi, the huge base of our 25th Infantry Division, I stumbled across several 55 gallon drums, which were tied to the shrubbery on the banks of a twenty-five wide river, and were therefore invisible to our helicopter pilots. Purely because of my memory of the American destruction of Dresden, I failed to report the "enemy" hiding place, and the rest is history!