From 1SG Joshua R. Guyse
Greetings to all of you in Duke Cannon Country.
In past years, I’ve used this letter to share the history of Memorial Day and to tell stories of warriors who left a mark on my life. This year, I want to share something a little more personal—what Memorial Day truly means to me.
My first deployment—to Iraq—lasted 15 long months. When I came home, I wasn’t the same man who had left. During that time, I lost a fellow infantryman and friend. I’ll never forget my first Memorial Day after returning. It confused me—people were planning barbecues, trips to the cabin, and lighthearted gatherings. It all felt wrong. To me, the day was supposed to be heavy, quiet, a time for reflection.
That day, as I sat alone thinking of my friend, something shifted. I realized I was wrong—not about remembering, but about believing there was only one right way to do it. I don’t own grief. None of us do. We each carry loss in our own way. Some find comfort in laughter, others in silence. Some honor the fallen with celebration, others with solitude. All of it matters.
I also came to understand that I don’t need a single day to remind me of my fallen brothers and sisters. I carry them with me—every day, in every quiet moment, in every breath of freedom their sacrifice made possible.
So, no matter how you spend this Memorial Day—at the cabin, around the grill, or in a moment of quiet remembrance—you’re honoring them in your own way. There’s no single right way to remember, only the promise that we do remember.
As for me, I’ll take a few moments today—just as I do every day—to think of those who gave everything for this country and for one another.
