To all those fighting for our freedom, thank you.

To my Old Soldier — thank you for sharing your stories with me. For entrusting us with your most traumatic moments.

My grandfather’s World War II story starts here — with this basic training photo. He had turned 18 three months prior. A baby. Who had never left Ohio. Heck, who had barely ventured out of his own county.

Of all these men pictured here, nine, including my grandfather, made it home.

I think of them. I think of their families. I think of everyone who lost out. I think of how no one wins in war. No one.

Freedom is who we are. It is our birthright. I pray we see the day where this is honored — without the need for battle. OF any kind.