I read something recently that hit me hard. It was from a Vietnam veteran who said, “I might not agree with the reasons we went to war, but I’m still proud of my service.”
That one line summed up exactly how I feel about the Global War on Terror. In the beginning, it was easy to explain—vengeance for 9/11. We all felt it. But then came Iraq.
Then the shifting strategies in Afghanistan. That’s when a lot of us started asking… what the hell are we doing?
Let’s be honest though, for most of us—we weren’t there to win a war. We were there to fight. And we fought because of the people next to us. That’s the truth. And that truth fills me with pride. I know in my heart that I showed up for the men to my left and right. I did everything I could to lead the best I knew how. I didn’t always get it right—I’m human. We all are.
And while we might carry anger or frustration toward the politicians and senior leaders whomade the decisions, it doesn’t diminish what you did. What we did. You can spend a lifetime replaying the past. But the reality is—none of us can change it. What we can change is what comes next.
The world is calling for us to, look around. The world’s not exactly holding it together. The
division, the noise, the so-called “leaders” chasing clout over character? It’s a mess.
We need real leadership. Not politics. Not Instagram influencers playing veteran cosplay or the damn crisis wave nonsense. We need people rooted in integrity, character, and moral fiber.
This isn’t a call to run for office. I’m talking about showing up in your home, in your
community. Leading by example. Being a light for others. Sharing the lessons—and scars—we earned so that others don’t have to walk blindly.
I’ll die on this hill: what made the Greatest Generation great wasn’t just that they beat the Nazis and Imperial Japan—it was what they did after. They came home. Built businesses. Raised families. Backed each other up. Took their shared experience and turned it into progress. They built the America we still benefit from today.
So, the question is—can we do the same? Or are we too wrapped up in what was to build what could be? Because I don’t want my story to end with, “Yeah, he fought in the war.” I want my great-great-grandkids to say, “Yeah, he fought—but what he did after is what made him a man worth remembering.”
That’s the legacy I’m after.
Hope this hits home.
~Mike