This article first appeared on The War Horse, an award-winning nonprofit news organization educating the public on military service. Subscribe to their newsletter . In July 1969, I emerged from the public pool grounds in Albany, Oregon, with Jesse’s hand in mine. She was a pretty, small, rather timid girl, but we had developed a lot of affection in a short time. Something haunted her. Even at the age of 14, I knew life was troubling for her in ways she couldn't, or wouldn't, express. I gripped