I was only six years old at the time, but I remember when the Commies came into Louisiana from Texas with the objective of taking New Orleans.
My father, who was 36 at the time, joined one of the hastly organized militia units and engaged the Soviets west of Lafayette. His unit was decimated or course, due to the little training and inferior weapons they were given. After the battle, he went into the underground. With his prior military experience in Vietnam, he quickly become one of the resistance leaders in southwest Louisiana.
My mother, sister, and I become part of the flood of humanity that went eastward, eventually settling in Tennessee. We didn't hear from my father until the war was over, and had assumed he was dead. However, we were reunited and tried to rebuild our lives the best we could. My father didn't live very long after the war was over. He died in 1996 at the age of 47 and far before his time. The years of malnutrition, the rigors of fighting, and the wounds he recieved were just too much.