I didn't serve, but had this experience a few weeks back:
I stood at the Korean War Memorial with my baby girl in my arms and looked at the statues - faces that represented fallen friends of my grandfather. I wept in gratitude that the Lord brought him home safe, due in more than one instance to the Hand of God alone, he being a beneficiary of miracles thanks to the power of the priesthood and the blessings of the temple. I wept for his few friends who died there and left little children at home. By now those children are grandparents, and I wept that their sons don't have a grandfather into whose arms they can proudly place a beautiful new great-granddaughter as I've had the privilege to do. I wept for his scores of friends who laid down their own lives before they ever had a chance to begin a family, and was humbled that I am here, and who I am, because he was spared the requirement of the sacrifice that was theirs. I held my baby girl close and tightly. She didn't know then why I cried, and she may never again meet her great-grandfather, my hero. But she will know someday. I will teach her the debt of gratitude we owe him for his willingness to give all, and even more for his friends who did.
Thank you all so much for your service. My family and I honor you for your sacrifice, and we reverence all of your friends, brothers and sisters who have laid the ultimate sacrifice on the alter of freedom. God bless them and their families.