Memorial day 2026

Ww2 veteran reflection 

   We hear about battles in World War II and think it was so long ago. It wasn’t like everyone back then was so different from us. Yet, somehow, people just shrug it off and say, “That’s just how it was then,” or “People were different,” or “Yeah, it’s just what you expected.”  Their grief and stories get flattened into explanations that let us keep an emotional distance or disappear because they can’t be used. We talk about them like they were somehow made for those horrors, like pain fit more naturally on them than it ever could on us. A terrified 19-year-old soldier in 1944 probably felt fear the same way a modern person would today. A mother grieving her son then grieved with the same kind of heartbreak a mother would now. People are people. Life is unfair, and God is fair; that’s just the way it has and will always be, and there is no other answer to it, and suffering is a terrible thing, yet we know we have a God who is not indifferent to that. 

   About ten years ago, around Christmas. Our church had gone to the Highland nursing home to sing carols for the residents. The room was warm with holiday cheer, but in the corner I noticed a man wearing a veteran’s cap that read “D-Day.” He seemed set apart and hesitant to join. I wanted him to feel included, so as I walked past, I said, “I like your hat. Thank you for your service.” At first, he didn’t say a word. He just looked surprised. He even took his cap off and stared at it for a moment. I figured maybe he was a little out of it, so I kept walking. Later when I returned, I was glad to see the man had joined the group, not in song but in company, so I went to his side and sat with him. After the group wrapped up, my grandfather, who is a Navy veteran himself, came over and asked him about his service. The man began to talk proudly about it at first, sharing that bond that only vets have. But then, as the memories caught up to him, he began to cry deeply. Through his tears, talking about being there at D-Day, he managed to testify, “We were all so young.” I gave him a small Bible I had with me. He told me it was too small to read, but he appreciated the gesture. I never saw him again. But I still remember that moment when history wept in front of me, when a man who had seen the blood and chaos of Omaha Beach looked at a young caroler and remembered the youth of the fallen.

   “We were all so young.” That’s what remains with me. When I was eight years old, I wrote a story about Vietnam and how a soldier lied about his age to join his drafted friend. In a way, that is always how I’ve processed it. But this man, whoever he was, deserves more than just to be written of in a detached way. He deserves to be remembered as the living soul he was, and this does not do justice for such a hero. Thank you to all the fallen this Memorial Day and their families. People always think freedom is free, but that is only the case because people are responsible enough to risk everything for the freedom of others. Sometimes my writing reaches people in places without such freedoms, and I pray for them. But true freedom is found in the ultimate paid price on the cross, found in Christ.


“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends. ”-  John 15:13

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” – Psalms 34:18 

BEN ANTHONY SIMON
Will Forge | Pilgrim Ponderings Ministry