VIGNETTES. Friezes. A tableau of men with ashen faces, the prop wash blasting dust into them, trying to heap bloody bundles into a medevac chopper. Sketches of frightened Vietnamese, mistrustful, dignified, discarded, charred. Taped interviews with vets Where They Are Now, exploring the souvenirs they carry deep within themselves. Varying mixtures of pride, bitterness, vacancy. A widow remembers that she had had a premonition—her husband "always got the raw end of the deal"—and wasn't really surprised when the telegram came; she did, however, surprise Manchester, New Hampshire by refusing the military funeral the Army had planned, telling the Secretary to keep his flag, and asking that all donations for flowers go instead to Another Mother for Peace. The father of a draft evader, at first outraged at his son's "cowardice," at last comes to understand him, attends a gathering of war resisters" parents, and has someone shake his hand for his own courage. Someone asks a museum guard at a Brooklyn exhibit of gory and striking war photographs what he thinks of the dozens of pictures surrounding him, and he answers that he doesn't know, he hasn't seen them yet. In this collection of human interest stories, Emerson hopes to bring her readers face to face with those arresting images. To have been in a war, she comments elsewhere, "does not mean you understand the memories of it,"