After the ceremony, families and soldiers mingled, sharing stories and admiration for the Medal of Honor recipient. The young soldier who had mocked Thompson earlier approached him, his posture contrite.
“Sir, I’m sorry for how I acted earlier. I didn’t know,” he said quietly.
Thompson placed a reassuring hand on the young man’s shoulder. “No hard feelings, son. It’s easy to forget who came before you. Always respect the uniform and those who wear it, no matter their age or appearance.”
The young soldier nodded earnestly, gratitude shining in his eyes. “Thank you, sir. I’ll remember that.”
Thompson stood for a moment, watching the mingling crowd, the flag firmly held under his arm. It wasn’t just a symbol of the nation—it was a reminder of battles fought, comrades lost, and the enduring spirit that connected generations of soldiers.
Before leaving, the general found Thompson once more, shaking his hand firmly. “You’re always welcome here, Sergeant Major.”
“Thank you, General. It’s good to see the tradition continues,” Thompson said, pride and humility mingling in his tone.
As he made his way to the main gate, the young soldiers saluted, stepping aside for the man who had once stood where they now stood—ready to serve, dedicated to duty, and leaving behind a legacy that would inspire for years to come.
