On this Memorial Day, I'm compelled to write about patriots and patriotism and the folks I've been honored to meet who exemplify those proud words.

I am a retired Vietnam-era Marine Corps officer and a volunteer at the Pacific Aviation Museum on Ford Island. The museum is at the epicenter of the attack that ignited World War II in the Pacific.

Our objective is to preserve the rich history of Pacific aviation. We are also a learning center where present and future generations can study the past and, hopefully, use the knowledge gained to forge a safer tomorrow. We "feel" the history that surrounds us and are honored to be its custodians.

A colleague and I handle donor correspondence. We answer their questions, thank them for their support, resolve misunderstandings and handle thorny issues. A more rewarding position does not exist.

Many of our correspondents (and visitors) are graying World War II veterans or family members and friends of these veterans. We get to know them through their poignant stories, notes and letters. It is abundantly clear to us why Tom Brokaw labeled this group, "The Greatest Generation."

These are the mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, aunts and uncles, young and old, rich and poor who came together to defend our country in its darkest hour. Their common bond was love of country and concern for family, friends and neighbors.

They came from all walks of life, from great cities like New York and Chicago and Los Angeles and from tiny communities like Toledo, Wash., and Ponca, Neb. They came from the heartland of America, from Hawai'i to Maine and every state in between.

Their ranks are dwindling now; some reports put their number at fewer than 4 million, with nearly 1,200 dying daily. But through their clear voices and letters, they convey a sense of patriotism that is just as strong today as it was during the World War II era.

Many would find themselves in the air or on the sea in hostile environments. Others would end up on unknown islands in the South Pacific, among the hedgerows of France or in the sweltering sands of North Africa.

The unlucky would never see their homeland again. Their fate would be a name and dog tag anchored to a crude cross in an anonymous field. "We regret to inform you" would be the opening sentence of too many telegrams reaching too many doors and devastating too many families.

Not every American defender was destined for the front. Many worked in defense-related industries, bought savings bonds, raised victory gardens or collected paper and scrap metal for the war effort. Many mothers traded their household implements for coveralls and tool kits; "Rosie the Riveter" was born. Their focus, like those who volunteered to go in harm's way, was to defeat the enemy and preserve the cherished American way of life.

Ethel Richardson, a California widow, is the perfect example of her generation. In her aged hand, Ethel shared her story with us. She said that she has been sending letters to service personnel since 1942. Ethel's purpose was made clear to her while sitting in an Army mess hall during leisure hours waiting for her husband, a cook, to finish his duties. She said she would pass the time penning notes of encouragement to soldiers shipping out for overseas "and I just kept on doing it."

Ethel sent a picture of herself in her living room surrounded by mementos from her "pen pals" dating back to World War II. They are all Ethel's "sons and daughters."

I would like to think— I hope—there are millions of other Ethel Richardsons from our present generation who may not be on the front lines in our current conflicts but who support strongly those who are.

To those who have volunteered to go in harm's way, we owe a debt of gratitude that can never be fully repaid, for they are defending our lives at great personal risk. We are indeed blessed that America continues to produce men and women of such moral conviction and selfless dedication.

Today is a good day to reflect on the words of Sen. Frank Moss at the 1972 dedication of the USS Utah memorial at Pearl Harbor: "While we honor those who here gave their last full measure of devotion, all of us hope and pray that the time will come when we no longer need to dedicate memorials to men who died in battle — that we will dedicate memorials to those who live in peace —to all nations and all men."

Gary Meyers, a retired Marine Corps officer, is a Salt Lake resident. He wrote this commentary for The Advertiser.