Pvt. Hardy’s DD-214 (redacted)
A packet soon arrived from NARA and I marveled at how quickly it had arrived. My pleasure quickly turned to disbelief, though, when I saw the name on the record was not mine!
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The budget for moving our family to Honolulu was tight, judging from the tiny cottage we rented and the rusted-out Ford Fairlane we bought to get around. My brother Kevin and I took turns sleeping on the couch. I was thirteen; he was nine. But the cottage was near the beach—just up a driveway lined with other cottages, on a street called Kulamanu—and the weather, which was warm even in January, when we arrived, felt like wanton luxury.
