I recently stood alongside “The Wall” in Washington, DC. It was my second time there. The first time was 31 years ago. Back then I was moved deeply by the stillness that hung over the Vietnam Memorial. I was looking for the name of my best friend Danny, who was killed standing just a few feet away from me during our first major battle in early 1966.

I was struggling with my emotions. I knew what month he died, but the panel for that month had four Daniels, all Marines. I cried because I couldn’t remember his last name or where he was born. There was no etching to take home to remember as other veterans were doing.

This time I was traveling to The Wall with 131 other veterans who were flown there by Honor Air Knoxville. Patriotic donors underwrote the entire trip, wanting veterans to know their service was not forgotten. Among the group were 127 Vietnam veterans, three Korean War veterans, and one Desert Storm veteran. Honor Air began by taking WWII veterans, then Korean War vets, and now Vietnam and other vets.

We visited the WWII and Korean War Memorials that were not there 31 years ago. We went to the Marine Memorial, better known as the Iowa Jima Memorial, made famous by AP photographer Joe Rosenthal. Standing by the iconic statue, I remembered as a 17-year-old recruit the stories of those who fought on Iwo Jima. They became Marine Corps legends.

Wars are horrible; ask any veteran who stood on the frontlines of freedom. Nearly 200 years ago, philosopher John Stuart Mills had this to say:

War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things: the decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth a war is much worse. A man who has nothing which he is willing to fight for, nothing which he cares about more than he does about his personal safety, is a miserable creature who has no chance of being free, unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself.

I served with heroes. I was standing at these memorials with heroes. At The Wall, I was reminded that, but for the grace of God, both my brother Ron and I would be listed on the memorial — myself because a grenade landed at my feet and exploded, and Ron because he threw himself on a grenade to save five of his fellow Marines but it failed to explode. Recommended for a Congressional Medal of Honor, he received the Navy Cross for his valor. The scripture for these actions is found in John 15:13: “Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.”

Ron is my hero. You can read his “Men of Valor” devotions in The Patriot Post every Friday.

After visiting all of the war memorials, we left DC to fly back to Knoxville, but the Honor Air folks weren’t done yet. We had “Mail Call.” Every veteran deployed back before email and the Internet remembers how important mail was. They solicited through our spouses letters from family and friends. I thought I was doing pretty good up to this point.

The first letter was from my wife of 52 years whom I nearly lost because of my post-traumatic stress. Then I read letters from my brother Ron, Patriot Post publisher and dear friend Mark Alexander, and his former Marine officer son. Then letters from other close friends, several of whom served in Iraq and Afghanistan. I sat reading, tears streaming down my face.

Tears flowed again when 700-800 people lined the terminal to cheer us and say, “Welcome home.” This was the “parade” Vietnam vets didn’t get over 50 years ago. Halfway through shaking hands and being handed gifts (even a box of Girl Scout cookies), I couldn’t even talk; I could only mouth, “Thank you!”

Yes, America is worth defending. I would do it again, as I believe every veteran would who walked down that line in Knoxville. Memorial Day is NOT a long weekend. We must not forget: “Freedom is not free!”

Semper Fidelis