My great-uncle, Isaac Jacob (I.J.) Harvey, lies at rest beneath a simple, white cross in Arlington National Cemetery. He fell on the fields of France in World War I.

My father, Royce Harold Harvey, was an "Alligator Marine," having fought on the beaches of Guadalcanal, Saipan, Tinian, Tarawa and others. His older brother, Rollo S. Harvey, was also a Marine who fought in the carnage of Iwo Jima. Their younger brother, Jack G. Harvey, was a Seabee, who served during the latter part of the war. My mother's brothers, Wayne and Walter Shuey, both Marines, fought the Chinese and North Koreans during that conflict. Their brother, William, served in the United States Navy for 30 years.

Drafted in 1969, I served in Vietnam from 1970-1971 and went on to complete a military career, retiring in 1994 as a major in the US Air Force.

While the military is an honorable and noble profession, there is nothing noble about war. People die, some of them are innocent men, women and children. Lives are destroyed and loved ones left to grieve. Those who survive are typically emotionally damaged for the rest of their lives and live with the ghosts and demons of war. However, we choose to go because we believe in our country and what it represents. We believe all people should be free from tyranny, persecution and evil.

The Stars and Stripes mean everything to us because we know men and women have fought and died for that flag for over 200 years. And, we will continue to do so, regardless of what those who know nothing about what it is like to be a part of this special fraternity of comrades think. We served and will continue to serve, freely and without hesitation, because our great country asks us to do so. If it means we must make the ultimate sacrifice, then so be it.