Arriving home from the Gulf War, I walked through the San Francisco airport in uniform waiting for somebody to mouth off and get a fistful of payback for all the “baby-killer” taunts the Vietnam vets who trained me had endured. But I’ve never heard a single slur. And after 9/11, the response from my fellow citizens whenever I wear my uniform while on reserve duty has become overwhelming.

All of us privileged to wear the uniform have felt it. You get hugs from grandmotherly types. You walk into stores and people shake your hand, saying “Thank you for your service.”