By JeanAnn Taylor
Ten years ago I had the amazing and very powerful experience of chaperoning World War Two Veterans to see their Memorial in Washington, D.C. We flew on an Honor Air Flight, led by Jeff Miller of Hendersonville, N.C. On the morning of the flight, I drove to the airport before dawn to check in and get my assignment for the day—which was to escort three Veterans: Max, David, and George. When the day began, I had no idea how it would impact my patriotic perspective for the rest of my life.
There were over one hundred Veterans scheduled to see the Memorial of the War they fought in so many years ago. The first thing I noticed about them was their humility and sense of gratitude to be there. I also witnessed how all of the Veterans, who had never met before, had an immediate connection and bond with each other.
The prediction of rain was replaced with sunshine as we flew into Reagan International Airport. To our surprise, we were met with water cannons, and then as we walked through the airport, we were greeted by a crowd of people cheering and waving our American Flag. The National Symphony Orchestra played as our military stood at attention to honor those who have served before them. We then boarded a bus to the Memorial. I still remember how the festive atmosphere began to shift as we got closer to the sight. The Veterans became quiet and thoughtful as memories of the War seeped in and they began to reflect on the atrocities they endured.
As we walked up to the WWII Memorial, Elizabeth and Senator Robert Dole—who led the charge to create and finance the Memorial—were there to greet us. His painful and permanent war wounds remind him of the War every day of his life, yet he stood in the sun to welcome us. He understood how important and powerful it would be for the Veterans to see their Memorial.
The WWII Memorial is a breath-taking structure with fountains at the Rainbow Pool, encircled by 56 pillars representing the United States and the territories that fought together. There are two pavilions symbolizing the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. The Freedom Wall is sculpted with 4,048 gold stars representing the more than 400,000 Americans who died for our country.
Throughout the day I listened as my Veterans and others told stories about their time serving. Tears came to their eyes as they remembered, “stories too painful to talk about,” and some too gruesome to print. George was 18 when he joined the Army. He fought in France where some days were so cold his coffee would freeze before it was finished. He was captured and nearly died of hunger in a concentration camp. He looked at me and said, “What I saw, you don’t want to know.” Max joined the Navy and was on the second wave into Normandy. “I try not to remember most of it,” he said. His twin brother, also in the Navy, was killed the day before he was supposed to come home. He was 20 years old. David joined the Navy at 17 and recalls storms so violent, they were unable to eat and had to tie themselves into their bunks. Despite the sacrifices they endured, and the horrific memories that last a lifetime, they never lost their patriotism or dignity.
Other than that hot day in San Antonio, Texas, where I watched my son graduate from Air Force Basic Training, I’ve never felt more pride and sincere gratitude to live in America. We have it so easy here. Everyone who wants a job, has a job. We are free to openly express ourselves. We have opportunities and gifts those in other countries can only dream about. The only reason we have these liberties is because our Veterans were willing to make enormous and serious sacrifices. When asked why they willingly joined the military at such a young age, my three Veterans all said, “It was the right thing to do.” When I see or hear people disrespecting our flag and country, I think it’s because they just don’t know or understand that freedom doesn’t just happen. Freedom isn’t free. We are truly, “The home of the free because of the brave.”
A few weeks after our flight, I received letters from my Veterans thanking me for what I did for them that day. What I did for them? They fought for me. They, and their families, sacrificed for me. They saw their friends die for me. For us.
On November 11, we have the opportunity to pause and honor all the men and women who love our country enough to risk their lives to protect us. My son is serving in Afghanistan. I pray every day that he comes home whole and healthy. As a Military Mom and loyal American, I hope you will join me in remembering and respecting our Veterans. When you see a Soldier, Sailor, Airman, or Marine, tell them “Thank you,” for their service, for their sacrifice, and for their love
of America.