Soon after I became a naval officer, a stranger at the airport stopped me to express gratitude: “Thank you for your service.”
It was my first time hearing it, years before 9/11 and the war on terror made the phrase commonplace. It was also my introduction to the public trust that comes with wearing the uniform. Only one other moment stands out. Shortly before I retired, a young girl at a gas station eyed my uniform, and her mother, noticing, said, “He’s in the military, honey. Tell him, ‘Thank you for serving.’” She did as instructed, then added, “I like your shoes.”
At the airport, the man’s thanks felt unearned. I was just a few weeks out of training and had yet to stand watch, deploy or see combat. By the time of the encounter with the girl and her mother, my uniform clinked with medals earned around the world. Yet it was her compliment on my footwear, polished to a glassy shine, that stayed with me. Decades earlier, drill instructors had schooled us in the painstaking art of polishing leather shoes and brass belt buckles, making us sweat if we failed to meet the standard. At the gas station, I had passed inspection once more — a recognition not of sacrifice or heroism but of the unglamorous daily disciplines military life demands.
This year, Veterans Day arrives at a fractured moment, when trust in government is low and public confidence in the military has fallen. An ill-defined and unresolved war with Iran makes life more expensive for Americans and more unpredictable for those serving. President Donald Trump and Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth have made military members partisan props and targeted veterans who disagree with their politics. “Thank you for your service” remains ubiquitous, but the sentiment is undermined by civilian leadership that treats public gratitude as license to take military service for granted.
Those who’ve served have noticed. A Common Defense survey conducted in September among active-duty personnel, veterans and their families finds that nearly 4 in 5 say vets and families are “being left behind by politicians and society.” A year ago, Trump and Hegseth had positive net approval ratings among troops; both ratings have since turned negative, dropping 19 and 22 points, respectively. Three in 5 in uniform — and 73 percent of families — say the Trump administration is “hurting civilian perceptions of the military.”
In his September State of the Force address, Hegseth remarked, “Americans want to serve when they are led by strong patriots, not by weak weirdos.” Trump is no stranger to that attitude; he kicked off his first presidential campaign in 2015 by ridiculing political rival Sen. John McCain (R-Arizona), a Vietnam War veteran and prisoner of war: “He’s not a war hero,” Trump said, adding, “I like people that weren’t captured.” Today, more than half of the active-duty workforce says that politicization of the military is the top reason for wanting to leave service, a factor outweighing pay, family or operational tempo.
The public is left with a military led by empty suits lacking respect for those who gave their lives or were taken captive. The resulting paradox is troubling: reflexive praise in words, institutional decay in practice.
Conflating military service and the missions assigned by the nation with a culture war crusade also misdiagnoses the preferences of service members and veterans. Though a Pew Research Center poll reveals the Iran conflict is deeply unpopular with Americans, the Common Defense survey finds that a narrow majority of veterans support it. They, along with the majority of active-duty personnel, also support deploying the military for border security and striking suspected drug boats in the Caribbean. But both groups disagree with the Department of War moniker and ending Black History Month observances. Those in uniform oppose Hegseth’s obsession with grooming standards, including punitive policies on razor bumps and testosterone testing.
These distinctions between operations and appearances help explain the divide between how service members and veterans view themselves and civilian leadership, and how the public perceives them.
Eventually, I understood the airport stranger’s gratitude was not for enduring arduous duty but for volunteering for such duty without knowing what the nation would ask of me or the dangers that lay ahead. His thanks were for a willingness to stand in the line of fire, not an approval of policy or the military’s actions. And the young girl admiring my shoes’ luster was a testament to the fact that the little things matter; service members, veterans and their families understand that the military is a way of life, much of it unglamorous work occurring beyond public view.
Above all, Veterans Day reminds us that duty is owed to a set of first principles, not to politicians or the pursuit of public acclaim. Such service is compromised when partisans invoke the military’s prestige and standing while disregarding its independence, professionalism and relationship with the public. It is honored, however, when the nation takes a moment to walk a mile in the shoes of those who’ve worn the uniform — and demands of its leaders the same integrity, discipline and commitment to standards expected of those who wear it today.
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