History’s community of memoryy greatest sin as a journalist wasn’t of commission, but omission.In 1973, the Iowa World War I veterans’ association held its convention in Burlington, where I was a cub reporter for the local newspaper, the Hawk Eye. I was assigned to cover the event which drew about 100 former doughboys, largely to reminisce about events in France in 1917-1918 and to recall their old comrades.I blew the thing off. I typed out a couple of paragraphs about the organization’s new officers and snapped a photograph of the survivor of a “last man’s club’’ opening a bottle of vintage champagne to toast the dead of the Great War.That was it. Nothing about what combat was like in one of the most significant wars in world history, a conflict that took millions of lives and ushered in the modern era of mas^s communications and industrial- , scalie slaughter. Given jtSf advanced^ age of the vets, it was my only opportunity to hear the stories of an idealistic generation that went “over there” — from Midwestern farms to Paris — to “save the world for democracy.”Perhaps it was sheer laziness. Perhaps it was because the reunion coincided with the unpopular Vietnam War and I figured readers weren’t interested in old soldiers. Regardless, by sloughing off the vets, I dishonored their experiences and missed a chance to convey to younger generations some important lessons from their parents and grandparents.DAVID S. AWBREYVISIONS OF KANSASOn Veterans Day earlier this month — the 80th anniversary of the armistice declared on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month — I made a private vow not to repeat that same callousness toward another group of veterans, the GIs of World War II.The marines of Guadalcanal and the riflemen of Elsenborn Ridge are now mostly in their 70s and 80s. Fortunately, they won’t be forgotten, thanks partly to several. Kahsans./ -:In a quiet, cluttered studio outside Lawrence, Jim Brothers, one of Kansas’ premier artists, crafts a monumental sculpture to commemorate the Allied landing in Normandy on June 6, 1944. The work will be placed at the National D-Day Memorial in Bedford, Va. What Steven Spielberg’s movie “Saving Private Ryan” depicted in celluloid, Brothers captures in bronze.Meanwhile, former Sen. Bob Dole, who was severely wounded in Italy in 1945, is soliciting $100 million for a national World War II monument in Washington, D.C. Similarly, Battle of the Bulge veteran Bill Meyer, editorof the Marion County Record, has cooperated with historian Stephen Ambrose and other scholars to document the life of the combat soldier.Last August, in homage to my father who also fought in the Bulge and to my grand-uncle, who was killed in Europe in 1945,1 visited the American cemetery at Henri-Chapelle, a pretty Belgian village near the German border. Looking across the graves of approximately 8,000 Americans, I felt deeply indebted to those who sacrificed their lives to defend civilization. As a post-World War II baby boomer, I owe to them my life of peace and prosperity.This is not to glorify war. Indeed, too many young Americans have died brutally trying to emulate the Hollywood, John Wayne version of combat. Too many flag-draped coffins have returned from overseas battlefields because of a misguided definition of manhood. Too many 19-year-old lives have been shattered to promote the vanity of generals and to appease the political ambitions of politicians.But history is a community of memory. Because of those men in the trenches of World War I and the foxholes of World War II, freedom was preserved for us and the 20th century closes with American values triumphant over tyranny and totalitarianism. In gratitude, our duty is to remember and pray for their souls.David S. Awbrey's column is syndicated by the Kansas Press Association.