As noted, Secretary Hegseth honored all the heroes of Iwo Jima - including the ones from the Pacific nation that is now one of the United States' staunchest allies in the Pacific.

Heroes were forged here. Two grateful nations stand together to honor the bravery, courage, and sacrifice that unfolded here. Their legacy of valor and honor lives on in all who serve. pic.twitter.com/daRufPl3jm

— Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth (@SecDef) March 29, 2025

This is an important thing for the SecDef to do; some will dismiss it as a junket or a photo-op, but it's more than that. This is leadership. Appearing alongside those last few heroes of that battle, appearing with the troops serving now, showing the honor and respect those veterans have earned; that's important.

#IwoJima #HonorThem pic.twitter.com/jFrv1r2BVK

— Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth (@SecDef) March 29, 2025

There are, after all, so few of our World War 2 veterans left. They fought that war, and they came home, and the war had changed them forever. Those changes weren't all negative; some of them came home and put their skills to good use.

See Also: RIP, Battle of Britain Pilot Paddy Hemingway, the Last of the Few

Band of Beavers: That Time America Parachuted Beavers Into Idaho

This global event changed a generation, and it had a profound effect not only on them but on the children of the generation, the Boomers, of which generation I'm a member. My father and all three of my uncles were World War 2 veterans, and their experiences and attitudes picked up from that conflict shaped them and us. In many ways, it took many years before we understood all of the implications.

This brings me to my mother's oldest brother, my Uncle Carl.

Carl had an adventurous life. He joined the Marines in 1943, landed on Peileliu in 1944 - and then on Iwo Jima in 1945. He never would discuss the war; if you asked him a question about his service in the Marines, he would just hold up one hand and shake his head. My grandparents and the rest of the family never even knew he had a Purple Heart from Iwo Jima, until Carl got married after the war and his new wife asked him about a nasty scar on his shoulder; he had to admit to his wife that he had taken a Japanese bayonet through the shoulder on Iwo Jima and almost died of sepsis on a Navy hospital ship.

When he came home after the war, he found life on a small farm in eastern Iowa a trifle dull, so he joined the Navy, retiring as a Master Chief. He would tell you stories about the Navy all day long; for many years, I thought of asking him if I could write his biography, as it would have been an interesting read, but he would not have wanted to discuss the war. 

It's too late now. Carl passed away some years ago, aged 90, drifting away quietly in his favorite chair while reading the newspaper. So few of our World War 2 veterans are still with us.

My father's older brother, Donald, served in Europe. He was with the 101st Airborne, in Market Garden and Bastogne. He caught a German 88 shell fragment in the forehead after the Airborne crossed into Germany and was left for dead; when he was finally recovered, the doctors predicted he would only live a matter of weeks, months at most. He ended up with a metal plate in his head and a glass eye, along with disabling brain damage, but he lived to 1995, managing a small farm. I remember him as a quiet, withdrawn man who would sit in a corner at family gatherings. Dad would always sit and talk with him, but Donald didn't engage much.

My mother's other brother, my Uncle Norman, was a radio operator and gunner in a B-26 in Italy and later, France. He got through without a scratch.

Dad never went overseas, and given how badly his brother was hurt, I always thought Dad harbored something like survivor's guilt. But you go where the Army sends you and do what the Army tells you, as I always reminded Dad. He went first to celestial navigation school, where he ended up first in his class, so they sent him to radar navigation school, where he also ended up first in his class, so they sent him to another school, then another, and finally to Victorville, California, to check out in B-29s to deploy to the Pacfic - and that's where he was when Japan surrendered.

That war shaped every one of its veterans, as every war does. Carl, for instance, harbored ill will towards Japan for the rest of his life. He was still alive the first time I went to Japan on a consulting project; he knew that I traveled a lot and was always interested in where I was. After my mother was evasive a couple of times, Carl finally asked her, "Why won't you tell me where Ward is?" 

Mom replied, "Well, Carl, he's in Japan."

Mom said that there was a long pause in that phone call. Carl finally admitted, "Well, I suppose times change, but it's a good thing nobody ever asked me to go work with those SOBs."

That war changed them. It changed their kids, the Boomers. We grew up playing war games, and the bad guys were always German or Japanese. The war figured heavily in movies and television shows. We heard stories from our fathers and uncles, those who would talk of their experiences. And now, that Greatest Generation is fading away; almost every WW2 veteran is nearing or past the century mark, those that are left, and most of us Boomers are getting pretty long in the tooth ourselves.

Secretary Hegseth did a good thing, honoring the veterans of Iwo Jima, meeting the few that are left. He's right to honor both sides; at this distance in time, the causes of that war are long past, and we can afford to focus on the dedication and bravery of the common soldiers, who went where they were told and did what they were ordered to do. That takes a special kind of courage - as does coming home afterwards and picking up the pieces of your life again. That deserves recognition from both nations.