I'm glad to see a lot of patriotism in this country - I haven't

“I’m glad to see a lot of patriotism in this country – I haven’t seen that since World War II.” Thus spoke Rudy Boesch, a man forged in the fire of service, a Navy SEAL who lived through battles and bore witness to the ebb and flow of a nation’s spirit. His words carry not the softness of casual remark but the weight of a veteran’s lament, who had seen unity in its most intense form and longed for its return. In this saying, Boesch draws a comparison between two ages: the fervor of World War II, when the whole of America breathed as one, and later years when that shared spirit seemed scattered, only to return in moments of great trial.

The origin of his thought rests in the lived memory of a generation. During World War II, every citizen was enlisted in spirit if not in uniform. Men went to battle across oceans, women worked in factories, children gathered scrap metal, and communities planted victory gardens. Sacrifice was not the duty of a few, but the shared burden of all. This was the essence of patriotism—not flag-waving alone, but devotion expressed in action, discipline, and unity. For Boesch, who had seen such a time, the later divisions and apathy of peacetime America must have seemed like a pale shadow of what once was.

Consider the story of the American home front in 1942. Factories once dedicated to cars and appliances were transformed into arsenals of democracy. The assembly line at Ford’s plant in Michigan produced not automobiles, but B-24 bombers. Housewives rationed sugar and flour, and children collected rubber for the war effort. This was not the patriotism of words alone, but of a people united in sacrifice, each citizen contributing to victory. It is this spirit Boesch remembered, a spirit that rises not in ease but in times of hardship.

When Boesch later said he had not seen such patriotism until recent years, he revealed both his joy and his sorrow: joy that the spirit of unity could return, sorrow that it had slumbered so long. His words remind us that true devotion to one’s country often shines brightest when danger looms, when division must give way to solidarity. Yet they also ask a deeper question: why should such patriotism wait for crisis? Why should unity be the child of war, and not the companion of peace?

The lesson is clear: a people must not wait for calamity to awaken their devotion. Let patriotism be lived not only in the hour of battle, but in the daily sacrifices that preserve the strength of a nation. To pay one’s taxes honestly, to vote with conscience, to honor those who serve, to aid the weak, to work diligently—these too are acts of patriotism. They may not stir the drums of war, but they weave the quiet fabric that holds a country together.

For if a nation loses its patriotism in times of peace, it becomes vulnerable in times of trial. Unity must be tended like a fire, lest it burn only when the winds of war fan it. Boesch’s reflection is both warning and encouragement: the fire of loyalty still lives, but it must be nurtured with care, or else fade once the crisis passes.

Therefore, let each man and woman act with resolve. Teach the young not only the tales of sacrifice in World War II, but also the daily duties of citizenship. Celebrate not only the grand victories, but also the humble service of neighbor to neighbor. And above all, let us not wait for war to make us love our land. Let us declare, in word and deed, every day: “I am glad to see patriotism in this country,” for so long as we live it, the spirit that bound the past will guide the future.