>> sunday night on "after words" republican president candidate in ohio governor john t thick discusses his new book two paths in america divided or united. governor kasich is interviewed by christine todd whitman. >> you talk in the book about trump one and we should learn something from that. i have posited for a long time that there two sides of the same corn. they're frustrated, angry, scared people and they didn't care whether the person they were supporting correctly do what they were going to do but all they cared about was they said they would do something. do you think congress has learned this lesson? >> i think congress is so dysfunctional. >> you serve, how do we? >> what, you know this, having to work with the legislator is we've done we've gerrymandered which we've always done. then we've filled people, they've gone out and thought the information that reinforced

their views and shut out the information that didn't do that and now, if you're a republican -- remember when we talked about the safe district? now if you're in a safe district you have to watch her primary from the right and the left of your democrat. the congress is going like this and by the way, i think people gave up bowling and took up watching cable television and now they're very impatient and demanding of their representative and compromise is like the worst thing you could ever do. watch "after words" sunday night at 9:00 p.m. eastern on c-span to book tv. >> the primary reason i wrote the book was to honor the marines i served with in vietnam more people should know their stories. their incredible dedication, courage and the sacrifices they made in a war that you supported

and even fewer things. in vietnam as draftees, they served with honor and did everything their country asked of them and more. i also wanted to describe a realistic picture of life as an infantry rifleman in combat. your slogging through fire zone for weeks and months at a time, you're seeking elusive and lethal enemy, never knowing if someone is an enemy or a friendly, they didn't wear uniforms. if a war without a front line. we were constantly cold, wet, hungry and tired. our resupply would never arrive on time and we had to ration our food, ammo and even our water. we never had any heat to heat up the awful c rations that were our meals and we never had any dry socks. i hate to say it but every day was pretty much the same. up at the clock it on, transfer miles to our nighttime position, with about 85 pounds of gear on her back, clear areas and route and set up ambushes, stay up

half the night on watch and there were many a firefighter in between. that is the life of a rifleman in combat. one of those riflemen was corporal roy lee hammons, and i'd like to read a passage from my book about corporal hammonds. a shot rang out. the men crouched. seeking cover as if at a signal, five or six a case open up on the far side of the draw. the rapid billing to a metallic roar as a hail of bullets came in from the right flank and head our in six teens opened up in reply. then scream pierced the cacophony in the relentless pattern of rain. i'm hit, i'm hit. form it up, came the formative cry. take cover, yelled. this was the ambush i dreaded. i rolled embraced the rifle but

against the ridge on my best and triggered off half a magazine toward the incoming fire. i look downhill and i saw the body between two buses, legs sprawled in a stream. fire two to leapt up and rushed in short dashes and drop to set up a defensive position on the flank. bullet went through the brush and cracked into trees. it soured bark and white puppy what. the fire team leader collapsed next to me, they got the dock. i measured the distance to the motionless medic around his impact were mount mud and water. i had our mortars fire on top of that ridgeline, your lieutenant, my radioman handed me the handset. put artillery on top of the hill and cover me, yelled. projectiles find pass as i dodged down the bank. the wounded man lay prone in the middle of the stream. our m-16 machine guns were

hammering again at the ridgeline on the flank. bullets were dicing around mimicking the smaller impact of the raindrops. when i reached him the corporal was hacking and coughing, face smeared with mud. i turned him over, his chest was torn open. air bubbles in the pulpy red mass, blood iran from small. he tried to say something but i couldn't make it out. he needed that test field. a bullet smacked into the creek spring us with cold water. putting my shoulders to stay low , i press the gods pad over the wound, trying to bandage the torso and half lifting him to pass the role between his shoulders. as soon as the bandage was tied off, i started pulling him out of the line of fire. at that moment, it felt like a bulldozer hit my back, knocking me down into the stream, turning my helmet off, my m-16 rifle cart weld away for me from the

rain. i gazed after thinking, i'll be doing a lot of paperwork for losing a rifle. when i realized that i can still move, my gaze sharpened into an urgent need for to scramble for cover. bullets were quacking all around my back felt that if someone had wailed at it with a sledgehammer blood was dripping from my utilities yet my brain seem to be budgeting with perfect, cold clarity. we've been returning fire to the east but i'd been hit in the back. it was a v-shaped ambush. lieutenant called up from the hillandale back, tell the company commander the enemy is to the north on the other ridgeline. i started out new coordinated coordinates now smeared with my blood. fire everything we've got and get the gunships. doc was still upstream not having moved when the bullets impact that separated us. grab dock two.

i took up a deep breath and let it out. listening for the second wheeze that met my lung was pierced but didn't hear it. still blood was pouring out, dine the clearwater scarlet. it was cold. i had frank cover. i didn't feel like moving. why not just close my eyes and rest. booth pounded coming my way. to the rattle and crack of incoming fire, someone was thundering down slope. the pounding grew louder. that he can and intimate like a runner sliding for home. tumbling over me in the streambed, someone had come after me incredibly brave, incredibly risky. i grabbed his jacket and said let's go. no answer. my hand came back covered with blood. an unfamiliar pale long face fell back. i didn't know him. i can't move i yelled but he didn't respond. just laid there on top of me jerking as the bullets hammered lab jacket. we've got to get out of here i said. i grabbed harness and pulled him off and dragged him to the mud and roots and rocks until the

stream as both peppered around us. doc was worried and i was might be dying but after me and maybe i can say this marine. it seemed to take hours to crawl dragging the limp body through the arms into the dense foliage. what in the coverage i checked him out. he been hit. wasn't breathing. i pressed my mouth to his and began cpr. his lips were slack and pulled and tasted of blood. finally, i sat back on my heels, this marine was gone. the pallet, stubble cheap slack. why come after me? core discipline didn't abandon. he wasn't even in my platoon. lieutenant, you okay my radioman yelled? he crouched right next to me, reload he was shaking hands, his barrel steamed, raindrops bubbling as he iran down it. were pinned down in a bunch wounded. i believe the study rattle of

small arms, saddling war of artillery, working the top of the ridge louder than i'd ever heard it. we stumbled on a regimen. i had to call in more firepower and medevac's. your hit sir, bleeding back. i fumbled at the kit and stuck the gauze into the hole in my back. i looked at the marines body and his great blue eyes were open and seem to be following me. you know this marine? that's hammons, third platoon, great. he only had a couple weeks to go but you better call in a chopper to get yourself taken care of. i looked around at the dead and wounded, sprawled beside the stream along the ravine. why have the kid done it? sacrificed himself for a stranger? when his own return home had been so near. then he wounded man began

screaming, i truly came in by the quaking concussions shaking rain from the trees, smoke drifted like bitter incense. there was something else too, something important. i remembered in a rush like a wave tearing in and breaking over me, moved to contact our regimental commandment such about. i forced myself to my need and swain, weak, dizzy and after a moment i can look to him. the dead marine was looking up at me, wide-eyed like he had asked a question that he was waiting for an answer. were falling back lieutenant? i took a deep breath, shuddered and tore my gaze from that unblinking one. put in puzzle things now, i think back later. no, corporal. let me get the tourniquet on. were to take this hill so we can get everyone out. no marine gets left behind. >> you can watch this and other

programs online epoch tv .org. >> book tv tapes hundreds of author programs throughout the country all year long. here's a look at some of the events that will be covering this week monday will be a politics and prose bookstore in the nation's capital were npr richard harris will discuss the challenges in biomedical research. today were heading up to book culture bookstore in new york city for student talk on hillary clinton 2016 presidential campaign. also that evening in new york at columbia journalism school is the presentation of the day anthony lucas price. awarded annually on books of american topic or political concern. on sunday live from noon to 3:0r and astrophysicist