Three young men left our quiet, rural county to go off to war.
 Two, little more than boys, the oldest still a young man. Three ordinary, local men among the hundreds who’ve served their country down through the generations. The youngest a teenager, the other only 20, the third 32 when they (finally) returned home. The oldest came home on leave in October spending precious time with his family prior to “shipping out”. He attended the wedding of his older brother (also a soldier). More important, his newborn daughter had arrived that August while he away training!
 These men grew up in northern farm communities of the county. Known to each other because the area was so close-knit, nearly everyone related by blood or marriage. They attended local social functions and showed up to help out when neighbors were in need. One, a talented guitar player entertained at social functions as a teenager.
 Though the three left for military service at different times, all went through the same hectic basic training. By the time they made it through this rigorous training they were stronger, harder, more mature than they’d been as civilians. Fundamentally changed from who they had been, they were now soldiers! Instilled with a deep understanding of the words duty, honor, country.
 Each left the comforts of families who loved them, knowing their country needed them. When they made those fateful departures from home, they were on a mission to help save the world.
 Two eventually placed in the infantry, while one became a combat engineer. Ultimately their assignments took them to far away places with strange names. They fought in many battles along the way. Each experiencing the horrors of war close up. Friends wounded, maimed, too often dying before their once innocent eyes.
 Along the way each was learning an age old lesson of war. Duty, honor, country are fine words to know as you enter a fight, but grow less important with time. What they learned was, a soldier ends up truly fighting for only two things. One is to try and stay alive, while the second is to keep his fellow soldiers alive. Every soldier ultimately fights for the lives of his buddies. Nothing else is more important.
 For these three men, living this war was hard, death never far away. One saw the ocean for the first time. But the fighting removed any pleasure he felt in seeing it. Another saw places where much of the worlds history was written. But he didn’t have time to contemplate that as he fought on, day after day. The third fought a vicious enemy in one of the longest battles of the war. Even as his body withered away from lack of food and a terrible cold he couldn’t seem to shake.
 None thought of themselves as heros. Wanting nothing more than to live. To return to loving families often faintly, fondly recalled. But they did not live.
 The eldest 32, was the first to die, in June. Volunteering to try to “take out” a sniper who was killing his buddies. Instead the sniper killed him. The youngest 19, was second to die, that September. Killed in an instant by a tank mine alongside buddies he tried to keep alive. The middle one, 20, died the following February. Disappearing in a flash when he stood up and a mortar round struck his left shoulder.
Their families, and friends went to meet them at the station as each arrived home. Few were able to make the trip. Work, short notice and meager money for travel meant most would say goodbye at their funerals. These young men had served the country proudly. The war was WW II,  “The Good War”.
 I write about these men tonight to remind everyone. We Americans (should) never forget the loss of any soldier! A friend of mine (and I) both born shortly after that war, carry the names of two of these men. The American Legion Post in Lookout is proudly named in honor of all three men.
 Reading the papers, hearing the news, talking with people about the current “war on terror” pains me so. Meanwhile Posts and babies are being named for dying soldiers yet today!
 Studying our history it seems we’ve been at war most of our existence. Not a single generation has lived and died in peace. We’ve nearly always been fighting someone, somewhere, over something?
I don’t know about you..., I pray America may one day live a generation in peace. That Goodbyes to American soldiers might end.
Cal Teeple, only fulltime member of the Observational Cogitation Consortium may often be found three stools down from you. He may be ignored, accosted or contacted at: twinews@wayneindependent.com.