Something strange struck me this morning. It wasn’t one of those usual ideas you have - it was more thoughtful. It was brought about while I was perusing a gallery of World War II aviation art. As I was looking at paintings of young women, cartoons and patriotic slogans - it hit me: We used to stand together. We used to understand why we were fighting. There was a time when we fought to win.

I used to have conversations with my great-grandfather, Lt. Colonel Alvin Louis Tollman (Ret.), about his experiences during World War II. He told me heroic stories about flying over Europe, and bombing factories that were critical to the Nazi war effort. Not once during our conversations did he ever mention doubt about what he did. He knew in his heart of hearts that he was doing something truly heroic.

He, and all the men and women that were part of the war effort, were fighting a war with an uncertain outcome. Early in 1942, no one knew who was going to be the ultimate victor in World War II. They were actually fighting for freedom. They were fighting to win a war that had the potential to be fought on American soil. Japan had the largest navy ever assembled. Germany’s Panzers with their Blitzkrieg tactics had consumed the entirety of Europe in a year. It was a scary and uncertain time in our history.

When my great-grandfather’s plane was shot down over Europe, he was put into a Nazi prison camp. He didn’t know if he would ever see his family again. That’s real sacrifice. He and tens of thousands of other young men (and some women) spent days, months, and sometimes even years in Nazi and Imperial Japanese prison camps - because they had chosen to fight for the freedom of people they didn’t know.

Our soldiers fought in epic battles complete with beach-invasions, paratroopers, and large-scale bombing that filled the skies with thousands of planes. They slept in bunkers while the Luftwaffe swarmed the skies. They ate their meals in the South Pacific, listening to the Imperial Japanese Navy bombarding the coastline, killing friends just yards away from them. They did truly heroic acts, in the hardest of conditions, because they wanted people thousands of miles away, tucked in bed asleep, to be able to wake up the next morning and read a newspaper with their family.

They weren’t “fighting for freedom from terrorists”, or whatever tagline we say we’re fighting for in the 21st century. In 1942, they were fighting to win.

Nowadays, it’s hard to understand what we’re fighting for. We’re not fighting large-scale battles with a front that can be drawn as a line on a map. The enemies we name keep changing. The American public isn’t certain whether or not they support the war. I’ve never had any fear about an Iraqi tank rolling through my neighborhood. I’ve never seen anyone from Al-Qaeda, and I might go my entire life and still not know who Al-Qaeda is, or where they actually are. It’s not like it was in 1942. We’re not fighting to win. We’re just fighting.

We don’t support our soldiers in the same way, because we know that they’re really not fighting for anything in particular. When soldiers return from Iraq and Afghanistan, even they aren’t sure why they were there. Now our soldiers boycott being deployed, and complain about it. This says a lot to me - if we were in real danger, our soldiers would be heroic. They would feel like they were fighting for the safety of people all over America. If we were fighting for something, wouldn’t it feel like it?

Which brings me to my final point…

The real heroes that allowed us to all be here today - the soldiers that fought in our last great war; they’re still around. They’re older now, sure, but what they did is still just as important today as it was 65 years ago. They’re still heroes. They’re our silent heroes, walking around America’s malls in the morning. They’re at the grocery store in line, taking too long to pay for their medications. The old man with the navy-blue hat that with the words “WWII Veteran” stitched on it, with the name of a boat, and a picture. The old man hobbling through the cereal aisle with his cane, with a jacket that reads, “U.S. Army Ret.” in red letters on the back. These men are our army of forgotten, silent heroes.

When you see these forgotten, “silent heroes”, go talk to them. Thank them for what they did. Shake their hand. I guarantee you’ll make their day.  Their actions are the reason you’re here today. Without these silent heroes, you might have never been able to make fun of Kanye West’s outbursts, go out drinking with your friends, attend church, or any of your other daily activities.

Remember these heroes with your actions. Vote for politicians that won’t cut prescription drug benefits for seniors. When you vote for politicians that are willing to forget the past, and disregard the debt we have to these great men and women, you’re disrespecting every sacrifice they made for you.

So, if in your day today, you see an old man at the pharmacy with his “World War II Veteran” hat on, walking slowly with his cane in his hand - just walk up to him and say “Thank you.” He’ll talk to you, because all of these men I’ve talked to want nothing more than a friend to talk to and tell their story to. And if he’s holding some candy and a drink in his hand, head to the checkout counter, spend the $4.75 and buy this forgotten hero his Saturday snack. He earned it. He’ll understand.