There's something I wanna tell you. After I got shot, you wanna know the very first thing that entered my mind? Before I blacked out? Coins. I'm eight years old again on a tour of the U.S. Mint. I'm listening to a guy explain how coins are made. How they're punched out of sheet metal. How they're rimmed and beveled. How they're stamped and cleaned. And how each and every batch of coin are personally examined just in case any of them slipped though with the slightest imperfection. That's what popped into my head. I'm a Coin of the United States Army. I was minted in the year 1980. I've been punched from sheet metal. I've been stamped and cleaned. My edges have been rimmed and beveled. But now I have two small holes in me. I'm no longer in perfect condition.