Veterans' stories are the foundation of our freedoms

My mother in the middle. One brother five years older, one five years younger — both served in the military.

The older brother, Marvin (Lokki), trained with the Navy to become a carpenter's mate. He found himself — at age 24 — on the battleship USS West Virginia anchored in Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, when Japan attacked.

The West Virginia was hit with seven torpedoes on her port side, plus a bomb. Severe damage caused the ship to list and come close to capsizing. My uncle's battle station was below deck. He grabbed a young sailor to hold a flashlight while he plunged into the dark and quickly opened the seacocks, letting in water to level the ship.

Then he and other sailors used the captain's gig to transport dead and wounded soldiers to shore, all while the water was on fire from the spilled fuel on its surface.

Later Marvin was assigned to a light cruiser, USS Columbia. It was bombed twice within three days in January of 1945 by Japanese kamikaze planes during the Lingayen Gulf Operation in the Philippines. Again he survived — his shop on board the cruiser becoming an at sea makeshift morgue. He served 13 years with the Navy, leaving with a rank of chief petty officer.

Lokki's younger brother, my 94-year-old uncle Robert (Bob), texted me details this week of the things his brother had told him about Pearl Harbor — expanding my own knowledge. Bob joined the service and came away with a completely different experience.

Having been drafted at 18 and serving in the Army in 1945-’46, he knew someday he wanted to become an Army chaplain — which he did, reenlisting at age 39. He was stationed in South Korea and Vietnam and Germany, as well as the U.S. — retiring after 22 years with a rank of lieutenant colonel.

His challenges included separation from family when assigned overseas, and moving the family regularly — with his children having to leave their friends and schools. He spent hours in patient listening to the personal struggles of soldiers who sought his counsel. Overseas GIs were lonely and homesick.

With a master’s degree in marriage counseling he helped troubled couples work out problems. He assisted troops in conflict resolution with superiors. And there was always the weekly Sunday sermon to prepare.

Every military veteran has a tale to tell. Whether placing themselves in danger — or sacrificing comforts — or separating from family, each has faced the unknown ready to support and defend our country. Their service stories should never grow old. They are the stuff of our freedom.