Occasionally I feel a little strange paying tribute to veterans, given I am one myself. I mean, it’s a bit embarrassing to offer thanks to veterans, implying that I am thanking myself for the tiny bit of military service I gave to the nation I love.
But … what the heck. I’m going to do so again today.
You’ve heard me go on and on about my favorite veteran, my Dad, the late Pete Kanelis, a sailor who saw combat in World War II. He went to the armed forces recruiting office on the very Sunday the Japanese hit our military installations at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. He intended to join the Marine Corps, but the USMC office was closed, so he walked across the hall to enlist in the Navy.
Those men served “for the duration” of the war effort. In late 1941, they had no way of knowing when — or if — they would return home. Dad knew the risk, but he was angry enough to follow his gut instinct. Dad wanted to get into the fight, and he did … along with 16 million other Americans.
These veterans are dying steadily these days. The last count I heard of the living World War II generation of veterans was fewer than 400,000.
The nation these days is bending over backward to thank veterans. Given that I am one of them, I accept the nation’s gratitude with humility. My own service in another war was insignificant, but it surely never lessened my own love of country, nor my commitment to serve my country honorably.
Millions of men and women have donned the uniform of all the services we deploy in time of war and peace. And at the risk of sounding a bit self-serving, I extend my heartfelt thanks — not just to the Greatest Generation that included my Dad — but to all the vets who did their duty with honor.