The sandy beaches of Normandy, France were a hellscape 80 years ago today. The ocean had literally turned red from the blood of Allied soldiers being torn to pieces by Wehrmacht defenders. But American soldiers clawed their way forward, paying for every inch of ground.
On D-Day, these young men assaulted Hitler’s Atlantic Wall, showing total devotion to their country and no concern for themselves. Thousands gave their lives to liberate Western Europe from one of the greatest evils the world has ever seen, and the bodies of those brave men still rest in France today.
The veterans who returned home after WWII rightly received a hero’s welcome. Beyond that immediate adulation, nearly an entire generation of American men had a common bond and unspoken friendship on which they could rely.
Implicit support systems for veterans organically sprang up, which complemented existing organizations like the VFW and American Legion and new efforts like the G.I. Bill of 1944. It wasn’t easy readjusting to civilian life — and some never did — but society worked to ensure that as many veterans as possible could move on from the trauma of war.
The same could not be said of those who fought in Vietnam.
They were greeted by hostile crowds full of misdirected anger. Our veterans were jeered at and spat upon. There was neither a nationwide culture of appreciation for their sacrifice nor a robust network of institutions to support these veterans as they returned to civilian life.
Drug use and suicides became widespread among Vietnam veterans as they struggled to make sense of the horrors they witnessed and make sense of why so many of their countrymen were so ungrateful.
The post-9/11 wars in Afghanistan and Iraq shed new light on the phenomenon of post-traumatic stress disorder, particularly as veterans returning home from the Middle East increasingly became suicidal.
But our institutions were slow to recognize the problem and even slower to act. A 2013 Department of Veteran Affairs study found that our servicemen and -women were taking their own lives at a rate of 22 veterans — not per year or even per month, but every single day. That’s almost one an hour.
While the deaths overseas in Afghanistan and Iraq were lamentable, they were but a fraction of the suicides that those conflicts induced once soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines arrived back home. By 2021, four times as many veterans of the post-9/11 wars had been lost to suicide as to the wars themselves.
America went from tending to her veterans to ignoring them as they slipped away into opioid addiction, isolation and bankruptcy. This happened because the institutions, both public and private, which supported them became eroded over time.
In fairness, many phenomenal private charities have been founded in recent years, caring for as many veterans as possible and literally saving lives.
But our public institutions leave much to be desired, especially in addressing veterans’ financial problems, long wait times for medical treatment and insufficient mental health support. It’s long past time we, as a society, rectify this injustice.
On the 70th anniversary of D-Day, I spoke in Sainte-Mère-Église alongside Dr. Claude Gatignol, a former French Parliament member, near the church where American paratrooper John Steele, portrayed in 1962 film “The Longest Day,” witnessed the horrors below.
As the national anthems of the Allied countries played, the crowd sang America’s “Star-Spangled Banner” with fervent belief and respect. When the French national anthem followed, the entire square erupted in a loud, unified voice. Tears of pride streamed down our cheeks as we nodded to each other, knowing this was how it should be.
This powerful display of unity and pride, etched forever in my memory, exemplifies the enduring spirit and sacrifices of our forebears. In moments like these, we are reminded of the profound cost of freedom and the shared values that bind us together. Indeed, this is how it should always be.
As we look back on D-Day 80 years later and remember those who gave the last full measure of devotion, we must honor the memory of the fallen by looking after their brothers. These are not brothers of blood, but brothers in arms — a bond which reaches across time.
We owe it to our veterans to provide them with all the support they need.
No more excuses. Let us honor the memory of those we’ve lost by taking care of those we still have.
Tom Ruck is the award winning author of Sacred Ground, A Tribute To America’s Veterans.
The views and opinions expressed in this commentary are those of the author and do not reflect the official position of the Daily Caller.
