When my grandfather, Damon Guyer, was sixteen years old, he convinced his mother to sign papers saying he was seventeen and joined the Marine Corps. He was on his way to Japan. Along the way he met many people, one of whom was the brother in law of the late Gene Autry. A funny story he told was that Mr. Autry's brother in law kept running away from the California boot camp and that Mr. Autry kept having to bring the unfortunate lad back.

My grandfather served in the South Pacific. He saw the islands, ate the fruit, walked barefoot on exotic tropical beaches.

And he got shot at.

He saw his friends shot down on both sides of him and die. He himself was only hit with shrapnel, but that was purely the grace of God and nothing less can explain it.

Sixteen years old and he was killing men in the name of freedom and justice, and before God I am proud of him to this day!

When I was a little girl my grandfather used to sit me on his lap and we would watch movies. We watched a lot of Westerns -- he taught me to love the Duke -- and we watched a lot of WWII movies. And he would explain to me that those movies were more than just movies.

"You see, sugarfoot," he would say as I leaned against his shoulder and listened, "those things really did happen. I was at those islands, and on those ships, and on those planes. I was often one of the first men to set foot on land. I got shot at, and I shot back. Yes, I even killed men, but that is what this country is built on, is fighting for what is Right and True and what you Believe in. And what kind of Americans are we, if we don't fight for people in other places who can't fight for themselves?"

My grandfather taught me that it was wrong to fear or hate our soldiers. He taught me that the saddest time in American history was when the citizens of this great nation spat in the faces of the men who had given their time -- and in some cases their lives -- in Vietnam. He taught me to stand tall and proud when I saw the fireworks on Independence day or heard someone sing The Star Spangled Banner. He taught me that sometimes that flag was all that got him and his companions through the night. He taught me that it is wicked and sinful to burn that flag. He taught me the Pledge of Alliegence and told me to never forget what people had sacrificed in the name of God and Country and Flag to give me what I have today.

Today my grandfather is dead. He died of cancer in 1994. But those things he taught me live on, and I am teaching my own three children the values and beliefs that he taught me.