I am getting old.  My face is wrinkled, my memory diminished, and my hair gray.  I used to be strong and courageous but those years are  past me.  I’m just a regular old man who sits in my chair reminiscing my past.  The world would look at me useless because I’m just another burden to society.  But if they knew my past would their opinion change?  Would they look at me different than just an old man? 
I’m the man who, at the young age of nineteen, put on a uniform and took an oath to serve my country.  I left my high school sweetheart behind praying I would come home so I could marry her.  They shipped me out April of 1945, where I would go to Germany and join the fight.   In Germany I was sent to the front lines to fight. 
As long as I live I’ll never forget hunkering down in trenches while bullets flew over my head.  I ‘ll never forget crying as I watched my brother go down and never get back up again  or the horror in my mind as I had to shoot little children carrying bomb trying to blow us up.
  I’m the one who walked through Dachau, a  German concentration camp.  There I saw the horrors of Jews being killed in gas chambers then their bodies burnt in huge ovens.   With tears running down my face,  I saw the mass numbers of dead bodies.  I watched the survivors scream with joy when they stepped outside of the gates of the camp and tasted freedom once again.
But here I am, years have passed since them.  The American people have forgotten what I and many other men and women have done for them.  Once a year on Veterans’ day I am remembered.  But the rest of the year I am forgotten.