The great transition was taking place without violence. Across the land, veterans of World War II tried to make the best of this best of all civilian worlds.
In The Bronx, ex-Pfc. Peter Boucouvales, paralyzed from the waist down by the bullet which had lodged in his neck, lay between clean sheets in the Veterans Administration Hospital. The corridors were cheerless, the windows dirty. His lunch of filet of sole, peas, rice, cole slaw and lemon pie was cold by the time it got to him, but filling nevertheless. Lying in bed, naked...
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