Bataan Death March Commemoration 2025 at the San Francisco National Cemetery on April 5, 2025 | Screengrab from YouTube via Bataan Legacy Historical Society
Every year, while Memorial Day and Veterans Day remain months away on the American calendar, Araw ng Kagitingan—the Day of Valor in the Philippines—arrives on April 9 as a powerful reminder to Filipino Americans. It is a day that calls us back to the stories of our forefathers and parents who served under the U.S. flag, fought beside American troops, and carried the burdens of war long after the battles ended. For many Fil-Ams, this commemoration is not distant history; it is family history. And it forces us to confront a truth that spans generations: America has always depended on the service of people it has not always fully honored.
The Day of Valor is a solemn reminder that courage is universal, but recognition is not. It is a day that asks us to look beyond parades and patriotic speeches and to see the veterans—American, Filipino, Black, Latino, Native, Asian, and immigrant—who returned home to a country that often forgot them. Their sacrifices are felt today in the lives of modern veterans who face homelessness, trauma, and stigma.
As we reflect on Bataan, Corregidor, and the Pacific War, we must also reflect on the veterans living among us now—many of whom continue to fight battles no one sees.
A Legacy of Service Across Race and Nationality
America’s military history is woven from the service of diverse communities. The Buffalo Soldiers, African American regiments who fought in World War I despite segregation, carried the nation’s colors into battle even as their own country denied them equality. Their valor in France earned international respect, though their own government offered little more than silence.
In World War II, the United States again relied on a global coalition: Filipino soldiers, Japanese American Nisei units, Native American code talkers, Mexican American infantrymen, and Pacific-based nurses—American, Filipina, Australian, Dutch—who served under fire, in tunnels, in jungle hospitals, and in POW camps. Many endured starvation, disease, and torture. Yet after the war, thousands of Filipino soldiers were denied the benefits promised to them. Japanese American soldiers returned to families held in internment camps. African American veterans returned to Jim Crow.
The contradiction is stark: America has long depended on the service of people it has not fully embraced.
The Invisible Wounds of War
Today, the contradiction persists in a different form. According to the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs (VA), more than 19 million veterans live in the United States. Yet on any given night, over 33,000 veterans are homeless, and advocates believe the real number is far higher. Many more struggle with untreated PTSD, chronic illness, or addiction.
War leaves deep personal scars—nightmares, anxiety, survivor’s guilt—but it also exposes a national one: the gap between how America praises its troops and how it treats its veterans. The public applauds soldiers in uniform, but when those same soldiers return home with invisible wounds, the applause fades. Veterans with trauma are labeled unstable. Veterans with addiction are judged. Veterans who are homeless are ignored or blamed.
The stigma is as damaging as the trauma itself.
A Nation That Funds Wars but Underfunds Healing
The United States continues to engage in conflicts—Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria, and, more recently, military operations connected to crises in Gaza and tensions involving Iran. These are not world wars, but they are costly in lives, resources, and long-term consequences. The country spends billions on military engagement, yet struggles to fund the long-term care of those who serve fully.
Veterans are entitled to a range of benefits: Healthcare through the VA, disability compensation, education benefits (GI Bill), housing assistance, mental health services, and vocational rehabilitation.
“The Buffalo Soldiers, the Filipino guerrillas, the Pacific nurses, the modern-day veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan—they all carried America’s battles on their backs. The least the nation can do is carry them now. Araw ng Kagitingan reminds us that valor is timeless. But recognition—and justice—should not take a lifetime.”
But not all veterans receive them. Some do not know how to navigate the system. Others face long wait times or eligibility barriers. And some, especially those with mental health challenges, withdraw from public life entirely.
The result is a quiet crisis—one that grows louder every year.
What Must Change
First, veterans’ benefits must be easier to access. The VA has expanded programs, but complexity remains a barrier. Streamlined applications and proactive outreach are essential.
Second, mental health care must be treated as core veteran care, not an optional add-on. Trauma does not resolve itself; it requires sustained, compassionate treatment.
Third, housing-first strategies—providing stable housing before addressing other needs—must be expanded nationwide. No veteran should sleep on the street in a country they served.
Fourth, the nation must acknowledge the contributions of all who served, including those from marginalized communities and allied nations. Recognition is not symbolic; it is restorative.
Finally, Americans must confront their own discomfort. It is easy to cheer for soldiers in uniform. It is harder to face the reality of veterans who return home changed, struggling, or broken. But if the country can send them to war, it must be willing to walk with them through the aftermath.
A Call to Remember—and to Act
The Buffalo Soldiers, the Filipino guerrillas, the Pacific nurses, the modern-day veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan—they all carried America’s battles on their backs. The least the nation can do is carry them now.
Araw ng Kagitingan reminds us that valor is timeless. But recognition—and justice—should not take a lifetime.
