When I got home, I didn’t feel like I belonged. None of the people were there that I knew. They had moved or died or joined the service. It was strange. I didn’t feel at home. None of the guys in the neighborhood—all the guys I used to play basketball with at St. Patrick’s—none of them were there anymore. Once in a while I had nightmares about the war. I’d jump up out of bed—I didn’t know what I was doing. I still get them strange things, even to this day. I don’t remember specific nightmares. Sometimes I see people and no one’s there. I don’t talk about it because I figure people will think I’m crazy. So I don’t say nothing. Maybe it’s cause of the concussion I got back in Normandy. I wake up frightened and I’m ready to fight. I want to hit something, a door or something. I go after the people I see, but then the people aren’t there. But I don’t get that too much anymore.
~ Ed Joint
