He was as American as his birth place in Coventry, Connecticut. He lived for one principal. Freedom. And one day, when he was just twenty years old, he died for it. He started that last day much as any other. He rose, washed and then he walked over to the window and stood looking out to the stars for a moment, watching them for what he knew, was the last time. Suddenly these thoughts stung his eyes with tears and he turned his back to the window and shut his heart to the stars. He moved over to the table, sat down and he wrote three letters...