In Bangkok it is Veterans Day as I write this essay. As the sun sets, my mind wanders back to days of service and the great men I had the privilege to follow and to lead in battle.

In my memory, they all live once again in the prime of life, running to the sound of the guns or simply watching an unsuspecting enemy moving toward the demise we had carefully planned for him.

I hear such solemn tributes on this day.

But I smile to myself as I remember participation in the ultimate test of the human body and spirit.

I don’t think so much how too many of our number died in war or simply faded to dust in its aftermath.

I think about how they all lived in the most crucial moments in the human endeavor.

Recently we were told a film-maker would tell our story in 18 hours after studying us and preparing for 10 years.

As I watched, it became obvious the producers never were participants.

Yet they would provide “truth.”

They would select the “real guys” from the endeavor. During the entire days of watching, it became obvious that this “history” once again would dictate to you and me not only what we experienced but who we were.

I close this observation by merely saying that you may show all the pretty or horrible pictures you can find.

But you fail in not even understanding that you are in no position to judge the good guys from the bad or even the martial competency of either grouping.

As I watch in a foreign nation, citizens from that country call to say “Happy Veterans Day, Sir,” I thank them for remembering and go back to now staring into the darkness with my memories.

I marvel how time softens the images.

When you receive a message from someone who was a good soldier but you did not, for literally decades, really like how happy you are that they are simply still here with you.

That is a miracle few in the civilian workforce will ever understand.

As I watch those bright faces move by in my memory, words and phrases uttered during the very worst of times bring a smile because we truly lived life to the maximum in our very darkest hours.

I simply whisper “I miss you my good man.”

To you still here on this day, I want you to know it was my honor to stand beside you in training, preparation, deployments and ultimately the execution of war in the most personal way.

It causes me no bad dreams because we did it and did it well.

My ultimate feeling on this day of remembrance is that I miss it and miss each of you.

God bless America and each one of you good, good men.

Maj. Mark A. Smith, U.S. Army, Retired, may be contacted at theziphmself@gmail.com