So Anthony Maschek is a student at Columbia University – where he’s studying economics.

But he’s also a veteran of the Iraq War.

He was recently awarded a Purple Heart, after being shot 11 times in Iraq. He spent two years at Walter Reed Army Medical Center, and still has to get around in a wheelchair.

He sounds like a pretty amazing guy – someone you’d want to buy a beer or two, given the chance.

Unless, of course, you might be a student at Columbia.

See, Maschek was speaking during a meeting last week at the school, on the topic of getting the ROTC program back on campus. While trying to explain the need for a strong military, he was shouted at, laughed at and called a racist.

It was like he was facing a poltergeist made up of Huffington Post bloggers.

Yeah, some Columbia students suck.

But, look – the fact that they disrespected the soldier only underlines how silly they are. And more important, their behavior serves to remind us that this crap still goes on.

Fact is, we live in a culture where reality TV trumps reality, patriotism seems quaint, and no-talent teeny boppers gain more respect and adulation than our boys at war. We got kids who thinks Skins is hipper than soldiers.

That bugs me.

Anyway, I hope their stupidity, heard by many, prevents them from ever getting a job or having sex with people who bathe.

That’ll only leave them with one option – working at Columbia.

Which, given the school’s track record, will probably take them.

And if you disagree with me, you’re worse then Hitler.

Tonight:

Diane Macedo

Larry Gatlin

Chris Rozvar

I think it’s because entertainment journalists seem to think he’s hot.

I mean, after all, Stone “is a man’s man… a sort of latter-day Ernest Hemingway, an action man with a reputation for women and drugs who won the Purple Heart for bravery in Vietnam “

Wow, a Purple Heart “for bravery” – glad we have the MSM’s famous layers of fact-checkers and editors hard at work making sure reporters don’t make basic, embarrassing errors.  But I digress.

The overriding theme of the profile – and Stone’s own personal narrative – is simply how hunky the auteur is.  Whether he’s palling around with Castro and Chavez or simply talking about his Daddy issues – which, trust me, are nowhere near as terrifying as his Mommy issues – we learn that Ollie is all-man, all the time.

“There seems an almost hyper-masculinity to Stone’s oeuvre,” coos the correspondent. She continues:

On paper, he’s so much the alpha male that, as one interviewer put it: “One expects to find antler stubs under his thatch of suspiciously too-black hair.” As well as his war record, there are his various arrests for possession of drugs, as well as his well-rehearsed views on monogamy (“unnatural”).

Cadwalladr spends a lot of time on his monogamy issues – “He is a self-confessed womaniser” – but she allows her subject to provide the reader with the cheery news that he has now found, after several marriages derailed by his rampant philandering, the perfect woman.  Apparently, he imported her from Asia, where they apparently put up with his kind of crap:  “She’s cool.  She’s Korean.  Different mentality.  Mutual respect… she laughs and trills and she sings when she speaks.  I love the sound of her voice.”

No stereotypes there.  Maybe next he’ll remake Teahouse of the August Moon.

—–

And then there’s his art.  “[O]ne of the most appealing aspects of Stone is the sheer depth and breadth of his interests and ambition,” she announces.  Recently, he’s made forays into pro-Chavez propaganda, pro-Castro propaganda, and anti-capitalist propaganda, but now he’s ready for a startling new direction with some anti-American propaganda. 

We’ve all heard how his new series, Oliver Stone’s Secret History of America, promises to put Hitler into context.  Well, apparently his brave vision is in danger.  As Cadwalladr breathlessly writes:

I fear for Oliver Stone’s Secret History of America. Oliver Stone will do it Oliver Stone’s way, whatever the critics think. He exhibits an artist’s singlemindedness, an ideologue’s obduracy.  If his ambition occasionally exceeds his talent, it’s not because his talent is small, but that his ambition is so very, very large.  The Alexander comparison is really not as far-fetched as it might seem: he really is trying to remould the world according to his vision. Watch out, world.

Oh my.  I can only hope she was wearing latex gloves when she made that paragraph happen.  And her article explores literal masturbation as well:

So, I ask him straight out: “Did your mother teach you how to masturbate?”

“Well, I can’t live with denial – sure.”

“She physically showed you?”

“It was no big deal. It’s not English. It’s French. It was no big deal.”

Look, I’m the last to stand up for the Frogs, but I’m not sure even they need to be tarred with that particular brush.  But I do think we’ve found a plausible explanation for why Stone is such a freak.

There’s also this:  “You have to understand that I grew up a Republican conservative,” Stone notes.  It’s unclear if he meant a Larry Craig Republican.

The point of all this is not that Oliver Stone is a dictator-hugging, drug-addled degenerate with an ego orders of magnitude larger than his talents.  It’s that the celebrity press refuses to call him on it.  Hollywood journalism is all Hollywood and no journalism.  Instead of challenging, probing inquirers, we get an uncritical cheering section that whitewashes the contemptible, narcissistic has-beens they profile.

The important issue is not that Ollie Stone is a creep – he is.  The problem is that he is insulated from his artistic failures by the hallelujah chorus just as he is protected from his personal ones.

Stone used to have a modicum of talent – Platoon is dreadfully overrated, but there are those who like Wall Street and JFK, for all its idiocy, was compulsively watchable.  Even Natural Born Killers, as contemptible, confounding and constantly violent as it was, showed some imagination.  But years of people telling Stone just how awesome he is have taken their toll. 

In the off chance you can even remember an Oliver Stone film of the last 15 years, it is likely as a punchline.  Alexander managed to make one of history’s most intriguing figures into one of the goofiest – what drug did he gobble that made him cast then-29 year old Angelina Jolie as then-28 year old Colin Ferrel’s mom?  Yet the closest the crusading Cadwalladr can get to criticism is the tepid, painfully diplomatic observation that “Stone’s passion projects haven’t always ended well.”  Ya think?

The Hollywood journalism circle jerk is a disaster, morally and artistically.  It enables awful behavior and it retards artistic growth.  A soft cushion of acceptance and excuses might soothe the ego of a guy like Stone, but it also ensures that he will never develop, never mature and never improve as an artist.  It is masturbatory in the truest sense of the word – a transitory amusement that tries to compensate for the lack of something real and meaningful.

Stone doesn’t need gentle caress from a Carol Cadwalladr; he needs a butt-kicking by a Simon Cowell.

You’ve probably experienced the Basterds publicity blitz.  Brad Pitt looks like he stepped out of a Calvin Klein underwear ad. Folks I know who have been around him say he really is a pleasant and laid-back guy, and these are hardly the characteristics of a beady-eyed killer.  Creepy Eli Roth, taking some time off from directing his degenerate torture movies, is just a leering clown – he looks like he should be squatting in the back of his Ford panel van offering Tootsie Rolls to passing tweens.  And B.J. Novak?  The guy is a hilarious writer and is really funny in The Office , but I’m not buying this cat as the scourge of the Third Reich.

In contrast, Lee Marvin’s tough guy legacy lives on despite the fact that his body rests with thousands of other heroes in Arlington National Cemetery. He earned that right when he was wounded fighting the Imperial Japanese Army in the Pacific as a Marine private. His Purple Heart is 100% USDA certified proof positive of his prime badassary. Who is the Hollywood tough guy of today who can dare step up to the Lee Marvin plate and take a swing?

Nobody.

Marvin got discharged from the Corps, came home and started doing crummy odd jobs to support himself – his willingness to work instead of freeloading off of others is itself an anachronism in today’s entitlement culture. He found acting and appeared in various supporting roles until he starred in a hit television series (M Squad) and moved on to bigger roles. He even won an Oscar for Cat Ballou.  Serving his country, working hard, honing his craft and winning the recognition of his peers – Lee Marvin’s career had a lot in common with that of fellow all-American badass Ernest Borgnine.   

How tough was the on-screen Marvin? He brawled with the Duke in Donovan’s Reef and stalked Chuck Bronson as a Mountie (!) in Death Hunt. His classic performance as the grizzled First Infantry Division squad leader in The Big Red One has inspired legions of American sergeants.

–

Check him out in 1967’s Point Blank. As Walker, a single-minded human tsunami of violence, he smashes through the psychedelic Sixties’ Summer of Love with his .357 and mantra of “I want my money!” This flick works for me on several levels. As a soldier, I respect his character’s fearsome firepower choices; as an attorney, I find his character’s single-minded focus on getting paid inspiring.

Remade in 1999 as the tepid Payback, Point Blank was harder-core than any of the watered-down, focus-tested, suit-neutered, glorified filmstrips that limp out of the studios today and pretend to be edgy.  

For sheer cinematic awesomeness, his performance in The Dirty Dozen as Major Reisman, leader of the cutthroat band of condemned convicts on a mission to solve the Nazi overpopulation crisis, is never going to be matched. It’s actually unfair to even use it as a standard against which to measure subsequent action films. In the teachable moment regarding action movies that accompanies the release of The Inglorious Basterds, The Dirty Dozen would be Sgt. Crowley’s Full Moon beer while Little Quentin’s movie would be the President’s Bud Light.

Marvin was totally fearless, including when he should have been afraid. He did a terrifying musical, Paint Your Wagon, and even had something of a hit song – Wanderin’ Star. Sadly, that little ditty sounds like a duet between Tom Waits and a drunken leaf blower, but it did lead to Marvin being paid homage to by The Simpsons – another great honor he shares with Ernest Borgnine. 

In his personal life, his shacking up with his girlfriend led to a lawsuit that led to the creation of the legal concept of “palimony,” empowering a new generation of golddiggers. And politically, according to the always accurate Wikipedia, he was a liberal Democrat – hey, nobody’s perfect. But if you get shot fighting for this country, dude, for all I care you can vote for a transsexual Marxist cocker spaniel that buys into global warming.

Hollywood needs to look harder for its tough guys because the new ones just can’t cut it. All the fake blood and stylized mayhem in the world are no substitute for the hard edge of real life experience that WWII vets like Lee Marvin and Jimmy Stewart – I should say, Brigadier General James Stewart – brought to their roles.  Today, the critics’ favorite director sends boy toys, torture pornographers and comedians to battle the SS. Yawn.

If Tarantino really wanted to kill Nazis, he could just bore them to death with his endless, pseudo-academic dissertations on so-bad-they-are-just-plain-bad B-movies. Too bad Eisenhower didn’t have a videotape of QT sounding off at Cannes about his personal artistic vision to use to soften up Omaha Beach. But fortunately for us, he had men like Lee Marvin.

An impressive commitment was shown to keeping the message of Al Gore’s “An Inconvenient Truth” as a battle cry for our youths’ participation in protecting Mother Earth from global warming and pollution. My children were enthusiastic. I was confused. Something bothered me, and I could not put my finger on why – until Memorial Day weekend.

It started on Saturday morning, when I took my 8-year-old son, Nicholas, who is a Cub Scout, to the Los Angeles National Cemetery. About 2,700 Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts, from Cub to Eagle, convened to place flags on more than 84,000 gravesites of America’s finest. It was a moving, profound experience.

One would expect a lot of running and playing among these youngsters as they performed their task. But, no. At each site, they stood at attention, recited the name of the service member and then saluted. Within two hours, 84,000 flags proudly waved in the gentle breeze.

I have passed this cemetery for years and wondered who placed those flags, and how, from a sea of white stones, the Stars and Stripes overnight come and beautifully decorate this hallowed ground. All across this great nation, I picture the same scene and the beauty of these young boys and girls honoring those who have protected the privilege of our magnificent democracy and freedoms.

This Memorial Day, I had the honor of being part of the program at this cemetery. joining Robert Forster, Jon Voight, David Horowitz, Bill Sachs and Maj. Gen. JamesW. Comstock. The general had asked all to remember the first time he or she understood or felt patriotic. As I sat waiting my turn to speak, I reflected on mine. My father was a Navy gunner on a merchant marine ship during World War II. His ship was torpedoed in the Pacific, and he was in the water for three days. He lost some of his close friends and was awarded the Purple Heart.

My earliest recollections of my dad were that on every Memorial Day, Veterans Day and Independence Day until the day he died at age 57, he wore his Navy uniform and raised the flag in our front yard. I remember his solemn pride on those days. He also upset my mother a bit because he still fit in his uniform and had not gained any weight over the years. And, well, she had.

My father often talked of the pride he had for his father, who had come from Sicily and enlisted in the Infantry during World War I. His father also had been awarded the Purple Heart and the Oak Leaf Cluster, which is bestowed on military awards when exceptional conduct is recognized.

Looking out at the sea of faces on Memorial Day, the great beautiful faces of those who understand sacrifice and love our country, I could not help but think of the millions of families connected to the military either by serving or through family history. By contrast, neither President Obama nor Vice President Joseph R. Biden Jr. had a parent in the military.

In no way do I suggest that such a connection is a criterion for love of country, but it certainly can affect how one might feel about the military and its history. Certainly, the vice president does have the experience of having a son who is serving.

Interestingly, Mr. Obama’s maternal grandfather fought in World War II, but Mr. Obama often dismisses his grandfather’s beliefs in his book “Dreams From My Father,” saying his grandparents knew nothing of the real violence in the world. He wrote that his grandfather had never seen “real combat” and had a “tendency to rewrite history to conform to the image he wished for himself.”

During the election, however, many media outlets, including the New Republic, Time magazine and the Huffington Post, fawned over Mr. Obama’s “military pedigree” and “World War II connection,” though Mr. Obama himself casually dismissed his grandfather’s service.

Our fathers and mothers have a great deal of influence over our thinking. We must use their meaningful history and pride to appeal to the Hollywood community, to Nickelodeon, Disney, Universal, Paramount, Warner Bros. and others.

We should have the same unifying message for our youth today and educate them on the love, honor, sacrifice, pride and patriotism of the military with as much vim and vigor as on Earth Day and in the Big Green Help campaign.

We need a call to arms, like that of the Nickelodeon’s Kids’ Choice Awards, and spend from 10:30 a.m. until 9 p.m. with programming that would excite our children with the stirring message of our nation’s heroes and their powerful stories of honor and sacrifice.

They know enough about “going green,” so why not go red, white and blue for future Memorial Days? Let’s start on July Fourth, Independence Day, so that by next Memorial Day, perhaps Nickelodeon will heed our call and put together a program that will bring education, encouragement and patriotism to our youth.

Let’s make it as cool to plug-in to patriotism as it is to unplug to save energy.

Robert Davi is an actor-director best known for his roles in “Die Hard,” “License to Kill,” “The Goonies,” “Predator 2,” the series “Profiler” and “Stargate Atlantis” and his directorial debut of the award-winning film “The Dukes.” His new film, “Magic,” will be in theaters later this year.

Their big message: military films aren’t working. The country is weary and doesn’t want war films as entertainment. Rather, they say, the good citizens of our nation want to escape with the fictional heroes in movies such as “Transformers,” “X-Men,” and “Spider-Man.” 

Military movies may not be working because Hollywood presently refuses to capitalize on the real life heroes in combat everyday. Everyone loves a good hero and for Hollywood to embrace the notion that there might be a valorous man or woman worthy of a feature film may lend creditability to the cause for which they are fighting. And we can’t have that. 

Instead, their latest war films are partisan propaganda as opposed to realistic and balanced. Somewhere between the screenplay and the final edit group therapy takes place and movie houses release message films as opposed to realistic action movies. 

Take for example Lions for Lambs and Redacted. 

In Lions for Lambs, two students, the ‘Lambs,’ follow the guidance of a professor to make a difference in the world so they enlist in the Army, only to be left stranded by their chain of command on an Afghan mountaintop as the Taliban execute them. The message? Don’t be a fool and enlist. You will be abandoned. The movie is noticeably absent any true hero as Tom Cruise, Robert Redford and Meryl Streep all pontificate through a collective diatribe. The failing here is that millions of servicemen and women have fought in these wars and their families know that they are true heroes. So a movie that paints their loved ones as misguided sheep rings hollow. 

Redacted is worse and more blunt. It sensationalizes a violent criminal act by a small group of Soldiers. Why did De Palma choose the rape and murder of an Iraqi girl as the focus of his movie, using the tagline, “Truth is the First Casualty of War?” It was a heinous, violent crime, but in no way does De Palma’s movie capture the essence of these wars or the spirit of the American fighting men and women. Again, no heroes, only villains, who happen to be American service personnel. 

It seems to me that the invasion of Iraq has been a watershed. Instead of gems such as Blackhawk Down, We Were Soldiers, Saving Private Ryan and Band of Brothers, post-Iraq we get political pitch pieces. Hollywood is venting its displeasure with the previous administration’s foreign policy through its films. Yet moviegoers are not so easily fooled and pan the movies that portray the military as bloodthirsty goons or ill-informed morons. 

If really is that simple, and Tyler’s lyrics have it right. We are holding out for a hero-the right kind of hero. We need Hollywood to capture the heroism of our troops. The American people know that their sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, and fathers and mothers are carrying this nation’s rucksack superbly in combat. And everyday there are heroes fighting to deny our enemies the ability to attack our homeland. 

One short example takes me back to January 2007 where a young sergeant displayed the everyday valor of American fighting personnel. 

Tyler’s lyrics were the furthest thing from my mind as my UH-60 Blackhawk’s composite rotor blades cut through the thin air of the Afghan Hindu Kush Mountains. 

“Blackhawk Down”

For two weeks I had been trying to fly from Bagram Air Base, where the joint task force is headquartered, to a remote operating base near the Pakistan border called the Korengal Outpost. My team had been collecting ‘To Any Soldier” letters and boxes for weeks and the holidays were upon us. However, a sudden snowstorm prevented our movement on Christmas Eve and then again on New Year’s Eve. 

But January 5th was a crystal clear day, the winter sun low and bright in the blue sky, perfect for flying…and fighting. So we loaded the Blackhawk and departed early in the morning with the intent of circulating to several small outposts, checking on morale, and ensuring the troops had the equipment they needed, a routine part of senior leader battlefield movement in the 10th Mountain Division. 

As we approached Asadabad Base where we would refuel, the radio crackled with the excited chatter of troops in contact just one valley over. They needed air support quickly. I directed my Apache helicopter escort to provide that support and for my Blackhawk to provide cover as his wingman. After emptying all of their ammunition twice in support of the troops in contact, the aircraft returned, picked up my team and we cruised the remaining 15 minutes to the Korengal Oupost where I would link up with Captain Jim McKnight’s rifle company. 

As we approached for landing, PKM machine gun fire echoed from two or three directions. Jim McKnight was there to greet me as we disembarked, but it was clear that he had other priorities. Soon machinegun fire and rocket propelled grenades were raining down upon our exposed position. The Blackhawk alone took 8 rounds in its cargo door, where we had just been sitting, and the left engine caught on fire. The pilots powered up with the right engine, leaving their crew chief on the ground and yanking his communications cord from his crew helmet. 

As rocket propelled grenades begin to crisscross through the outpost like Roman candles, I told Captain McKnight, “Forget about me, go command your company.” Happy to be unburdened from the task of managing a general in his outpost, he got to work. Meanwhile, we hunkered down and returned fire. As we moved toward the command bunker, I caught out of the corner of my eye a Soldier running down to the command post. This Soldier was shot through his left arm, tying off his tourniquet with his teeth. 

As he wheeled into the bunker, he hooked a radio handset into his helmet strap with his good hand while his wounded arm was bleeding badly. Soon, it was apparent he was going into shock and that his arm was seriously damaged. He began convulsing and a medic approached him, saying, “I need to take a look at that.” 

“Get away from me,” the Sergeant said, bluntly, as he punched numbers into his mortar ballistic computer. The biggest weapon at this firebase was a 120mm mortar that, with the right calculus, could destroy the attackers in quick fashion. This sergeant’s mission was to perform that calculus with the aid of a ballistic computer and then relay the information to the gun crew. Conversely, if he got the math wrong, a misguided round could kill friendly troops or civilians. 

He had an important mission. 

As the sergeant began to shake from the onset of shock, the medic approached again, and a second time the sergeant refused medical care, this time employing an expletive to keep the intruder at bay. 

As enemy machine gun rounds punched through the plywood roof of the bunker and fell to the floor like a Colorado summertime hail storm, the medic approached a third time. Looking up from his ballistic computer the sergeant said, “You can work on me when we get first round down range.” 

That was his compromise, which of course was no compromise at all. This Soldier was going to perform his most vital mission until the last drop of his blood fell into the gathering pool at his feet. 

Finally, a few minutes later the mortar launched the first round, which was impressively accurate. Soon, the mortar crew was melting the tubes, pumping out high explosive, fin stabilized and deadly accurate rounds onto the enemy. 

His mission done, the sergeant pushed the ballistic computer across the table to his assistant, handed him the radio, turned to the medic, and said, “Now you can work on me.” 

While it’s not Paul Blart, Mall Cop, there is a good message for Americans in the young Sergeant’s sacrifice. His actions were truly heroic. And the amazing part of this Sergeant’s valor is what came next. 

I was privileged to pin on his Purple Heart (2nd Award), the following day in Bagram after we medically evacuated him out of the Korengal Outpost. The sergeant then was evacuated to Landstuhl, Germany and then finally to Walter Reed Army Medical Center where he spent two months getting reconstructive surgery and healing from the gunshot wound. 

In the interim, the Secretary of Defense extended by 5 months his brigade combat team’s deployment in Afghanistan, making that brigade’s cumulative time deployed 17 months. As soon as this sergeant was released from Walter Reed Army Medical Center he had every right to go on convalescent leave and chill out. He’d earned that after 11 months of combat and a serious battle wound. 

Everyone but perhaps Hollywood knows how this story ends. Our hero scoffed at the notion of taking time off while his buddies were in the thick of it in Afghanistan. 

Of course, he was on the next airplane smoking to Bagram. 

So, we don’t need to hold out for our heroes. They’re there, right in front of us everyday. 

They are holding out for Hollywood’s enormous resources and talent to capture the right heroes doing the right things at the right time. And that’s a timeless story. It’s Hoosiers on the battlefield. Good men and women with solid values placed in difficult circumstances and producing unbelievable results. 

On our behalf. 

Message to Hollywood: Get to work. If you remove the political lens so that you can see the American heroes fighting the good fight, your only issue will be too many good screenplays and packed movie theaters. 

Believe it or not, the America I know is very proud of its men and women in uniform.

The guys and gals also got geared up; can’t say enough about all of the support this program receives from our partners.  Jerseys, socks, arm warmers, glasses, the all important Chamois butt’r, and T-shirts…soon we were off.

Each of the R2R events has it own character and brand. Texas is the land of BIG. Big country, big hair, big personalities, and big stars…..

The Texas Challenge features seven hand cycle riders that are certainly big stars. It is the first event we have done with such a big presence and we were not sure what to expect. These guys have been preparing for the ride to Arlington for months. Through a program supported by a local foundation, Operation Comfort, the warriors showed unbelievable courage as almost all of them made the entire 55 mile ride to San Marcos with two of them in the 2nd group on the road.

The Texas ride also features some new riders to the program, Actor Adam Baldwin, CNN contributor Steve Hayes, and even General David Blackledge.

In February of 2004, Major General Blackledge’s convoy was ambushed in Iraq. The interpreter, who was sitting next to him, was shot through the head. Taking fire, the vehicle rolled. But the survivors were able to escape. He sustained a broken back and ribs, with other injuries requiring eleven months of recovery and physical therapy.

Fifteen months after the ambush, Major General Blackledge was deployed back to Iraq. While in Amman, Jordan for meetings, he was in one of three popular hotels that were struck by terrorist bombs. The explosions killed over 55 people and injured over 110. He suffered a neck injury.

Major General Blackledge has demonstrated his courage during three combat tours (he also fought in the Persian Gulf War). He has been awarded five Bronze Star Medals as well as Purple Hearts he received for combat injuries.

The American Legion Auxiliary did their usual great job with dinner tonight.  Several community groups put on quite a feast including San Marcos Mayor Susan Narvaiz, who will also be on hand tomorrow to cheer on the riders and the city will put on a show of force with their police leading the group through town. It was great to see Chad interviewed as he was still beaming from the gift of his new bike.

It’s on to Austin….

You can follow the ride by joining our Facebook Road 2 Recovery group.

San Marcos Daily Record article here.

This week’s Washington Times column:

SIMI VALLEY, Calif. | After spending two weeks on something akin to a fact-finding mission in depressed New York and depleted Washington, D.C., I found no answers to our nation’s mounting ills. I discovered that there is much to be angry about and unlimited reasons for deep concern. But on the evening after my return, the stars aligned on the outskirts of Los Angeles at the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library, and for a brief moment I felt safe again in America.

On Saturday, my wife and I were privileged to attend the second annual “Celebration of Freedom Gala.” We joined more than 1,000 others who, like us, were electrified to honor 43 of the 98 living Medal of Honor recipients. We also gave our thanks to former first lady Nancy Reagan, war hero and actor Charles Durning, and Gen. David H. Petraeus.

In between courses, we heard rousing patriotic vignettes. One was Steve Amerson’s refreshingly traditional and soaring national anthem. Another was a tear-inducing “Freedom Never Cries” from John Ondrasik of Five for Fighting. Scores of celebrities donning black ties and gowns mingled with our nation’s highest-decorated veterans and active-duty men and women.

Unlike at other awards shows, this star-studded crowd honored something bigger than themselves. I note this without taking anything away from the individual achievements of talented artists who have paid homage to every cause under the sun. But this event was different. The armed forces of the United States have fought and died to protect the freedom of expression that allowed these artists to ply their trade.

Before the program commenced at the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library, one prominent actor sang the praises of HBO’s “Taking Chance” to a Vietnam-era Medal of Honor recipient. The film is not just another Hollywood attack on the military. Quite the contrary. “I watched it with my son, and we both cried,” the well-known face from film and television told a true hero. “It is deeply respectful and not in the least bit political.”

The same could be said of the dinner. Partisanship was not on the bill as dozens of decorated veterans of unknown partisan stripe stood to accept the audience’s unconditional and rousing appreciation.

Tom Selleck presented the “Lifetime Achievement Award” to a frail yet still elegant Mrs. Reagan, who received the first extended standing ovation of the evening. The 87-year-old former first lady was making her first public appearance since fracturing her pelvis and sacrum in October. She summoned the courage to accept the award in front of a cross-section of people who have grown to admire her during her half-century in Hollywood and in public service.

Gary Sinise, a Presidential Citizens Medal recipient and the event’s co-sponsor, delivered the Bob Hope Award for Excellence in Entertainment to Charles Durning, whose courage and grit during World War II earned him the Combat Infantryman Badge, the Silver Star, the Bronze Star and three Purple Hearts. The 86-year-old star of “The Sting” and “Dog Day Afternoon” received a hero’s welcome worthy of both his military and film career.

Mr. Sinise asked attendees to commit themselves to entertaining the troops and singled out one actor/singer who had done so in spades: Connie Stevens, who labored for 40 years for the USO. Miss Stevens, still beautiful and radiant at 70, accepted the extended and deserved standing ovation.

You can read the column in full here.