By Steve Brawner, © 2025 by Steve Brawner Communications, Inc.

This year’s commemoration of the attack on Pearl Harbor in Honolulu on Dec. 7 was missing one irreplaceable element: Pearl Harbor survivors. 

As reported by the Associated Press in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette, none of the 12 living survivors, all now past 100 years old, were able to make the trip. It was the first time no survivors were present to mark the attack other than 2020 during COVID.

The news was another reminder that the World War II generation is now all but gone. 

For a person my age – 56 – that’s my grandparents and their peers. My grandfather, George Brawner, served on a troop transport. He left his pregnant wife, Dorothy, and their young son (my dad, Larry) at their home near Colt outside of Wynne to ferry Marines across the Pacific Ocean. He came home to farm, work for the county, and raise their four children. On my mother’s side, my uncle, Wayne Bledsoe, a pilot, perished when his plane crashed into a hill in bad weather in France.

Meanwhile, my friend Wallace Eldridge landed in France a few days after the D-Day invasion and then fought his way across Europe. Somehow, he was never wounded. He came home, became a successful businessman in Wynne and the father of one of my classmates, and opened his backyard tennis court to young people. I spent more time on that court than I did just about anywhere else, often with him.

My wife, Melissa, and I had the privilege of writing a number of biographies on commission for veterans and their families. Among the subjects was Cletis Overton of Malvern, who survived the Bataan Death March across the Philippines after U.S. troops surrendered to the Japanese following Pearl Harbor. He spent the war in squalid prison camps, escaping only after the ship that was preparing to take him to Japan was sunk by American forces who were unaware of who was on board. He swam back to shore, made it home, married his sweetheart and built a wonderful life.

I enjoyed getting to know Cletis quite a bit. He was strong, with strong facial features, a deep voice and a direct style of speaking. I soon learned he was gentle and kind. His faith in God had helped him survive his prison experience, and it made his life all the richer when he returned. It’s been a quarter century since we wrote his book, “The Lord is My Shepherd.” Someone requested a copy only a few weeks ago.

Ed and Evelyn Penick were two of Little Rock’s leading citizens during their younger years. Ed was president of Worthen Bank, like his father before him, but they were humble and down-to-earth. He matter-of-factly shared his stories piloting planes over the Chinese mainland, while Evelyn talked about her years on the home front. A large section of the book focused on their relationships with their grandchildren, whom they adored and who adored them. His voice occasionally halted briefly with emotion as he recalled his happy life.

While Cletis and Ed were happy to share their war experiences, two other veterans were much more hesitant. In both cases, their daughters had hired us to capture their life stories. One bomber pilot politely would not share much. I’m not sure what he had experienced, but he did once briefly express misgivings about the Allied strategy of bombing civilian areas. The other veteran’s voice shook as he recalled organizing and cataloging dead servicemen on the beach after the D-Day invasion. 

While all of the veterans processed their experiences differently, they shared a quiet, stoic, self-controlled strength. The members of that generation – what newscaster and author Tom Brokaw called “The Greatest Generation” – were imperfect like all of us. They were people of their time, as we all are. But they did their duty. They traveled across oceans to fight a war they didn’t start in order to liberate people they did not know. Then they returned to raise their families and build their communities, never talking about themselves very much.

There is a difference between glorifying the horrors of war and honoring a person’s sacrifice. The first should never be done. The second should always be done.

Even when the sacrificers can’t make it to the ceremony. Even once they’re all gone. 

Steve Brawner’s column is syndicated to 20 outlets in Arkansas. Email him at brawnersteve@mac.com.