Letter from the editor
The giants among us
As my grandfather's health continues to decline, it's depressing to note that members of "The Greatest Generation" are leaving us at a rapid rate.
About 1,500 World War II veterans die each day, and most of them take their stories of courage and achievement with them. I've always loved listening to my grandpa's tales about life in the Navy. He lied about his age to join the war because "that's what everybody did." There weren't any young men sticking around - might as well join with them.
These war heroes have always stood as the pillars of what makes America great: people willing to leave everything behind to fight in the mud, in the snow and in the jungles of faraway lands for their country. They conquered history's most ancient and terrible test with flying colors, especially red, white and blue.
And for some time now, I've held my own generation in contempt - and for good reason. Most people my age are self-absorbed and unwilling to make any sacrifice that would hinder a life of ease and insidious entitlement.
We can detail every minute of a season of American Idol but can't find Iraq on a map.
We like a healthy dose of camo in the latest fashions, but would never want to wear it if it meant taking orders.
We want our freedoms, man. Just make sure they are free.
But I had the great honor and privilege this past weekend to tag along with the Employer Support of the Guard and Reserve event which culminated in a ride in a Chinook helicopter.
There I got to hear the stories of our Montana soldiers who spent 15 months of duty in Iraq. I heard of their trips to orphanages with supplies. I heard of courage in the face of heartache when they had to leave families behind. I heard of how when another unit refused a mission to transport fuel (a story that made national headlines), it was our soldiers from Montana who stepped in and completed the mission.
And these were "part-time" soldiers, men who hold down regular jobs most of the time but stay prepared to take on the extraordinary. When they got back from Iraq, they were shipped down to New Orleans in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. Some may be activated for duty along the U.S. and Mexican border, and before long they will become eligible for another round in the desert.
And they'll go and do their duty, come back home and settle into their day jobs once again.
Amazing, aren't they? Maybe "The Greatest Generation" doesn't have to mean those aging giants who saved the world 60 years ago. Maybe the greatest generation is a collection of America's best throughout our short but storied history.
Thankfully, they are still around to add their names to the list.
The brave soldiers of WWII stopped the onslaughts of a legion of terrible foes, but none of them will ever win the battle against time. For most of them, death will be the one and only time surrender is inevitable.
And these brave men and women have left big shoes, after all, "The Greatest Generation" is a tough act to follow even a few generations removed.
But as I found out this past weekend, our soldiers today have pretty big feet.