The Man Who Did Not Look Away

7/21/2026

United States

Ukraine

“Quiet heroes do not ask to be seen. They simply keep showing up where they are needed.”
— Unknown

As most of my longtime readers know, I love history—especially war history—and that passion has sometimes taken me to interesting places, where I have met the most wonderful, humble, and kind people. Back in college, like many students, I was broke and surviving on limited food rations. That did not matter to me because I loved learning and was insanely curious. So, as a 20-year-old girl living in San Diego and completely engrossed in anything related to World War II, I became determined to find someone who would talk war strategy with me and answer all the questions in my head. That is how I found the Veterans of Foreign Wars. On one particular Friday afternoon, I gathered up my courage, shyly opened the VFW’s front door, and looked around a dark, smoky bar. A group of military veterans playing cards in the corner looked up in confusion. One veteran even asked, “Are you lost, missy?” I replied, “No, I just want to talk to someone about what I have been reading in books.”

They probably thought I was unusual, but they kindly accommodated my curiosity. Maybe it was their kindness, my thirst for knowledge, or their realization that this persistent girl was not going anywhere until her questions were answered. Whatever the reason, they relented and told me stories about their brothers in arms, their deployments, and the true cost of war. Now, it may sound a little strange for a 20-year-old girl to sit down with a group of men in their late sixties and seventies and talk war, but I was hooked. My college roommates thought I was eccentric. As one roommate complained, “You are so pretty. Why are you hanging out with old men instead of dating hot college guys?” I would shrug and say, “Not interested.” (I still remember that, Liz.) Those wise, gentle, and fierce men treated me like a long-lost granddaughter, and every Friday afternoon after class, I spent hours listening to their stories. In exchange, they always had a perfectly grilled cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke waiting for me. Those were wonderful days with the best cheeseburgers. They taught me that true heroes are often authentic people working quietly in the shadows, changing the world through small, meaningful efforts. “You just have to go find them.”

Fast-forward to 2026, and I am still trying to find them. To my giddy joy, I found one. I would like to introduce you to Bob. He has kind blue eyes, a wonderful sense of humor, and the rare gift of making people laugh even in places where laughter is hard to find. He has an easy laugh that makes people feel safe. He carries a bright, quiet, steady energy with him, but beneath that warmth is something even more remarkable: courage and compassion. Bob grew up in Alexandria, Virginia, the youngest of three boys, in a military family where service was instilled. That sense of duty became part of who he is. Today, he is a physician assistant who lives and works in Colorado, and he has spent many years in the emergency room, standing beside people in their worst moments and choosing, again and again, to help. When Russia invaded Ukraine, Bob did not look away; he looked for where he could help. He saw suffering, recognized that his skills could matter, and answered the call through Global Care Force. Since then, he has traveled to Ukraine seven times and is preparing for his eighth trip in October. Due to OPSEC, I will not share the exact areas of his deployments, but I can say this: Bob has willingly returned to dangerous places because people there need care, and because he believes service means showing up even when the risk is real. He has regular patients who wait for his return. He knows each trip is a “calculated risk,” yet he keeps going. He has heard drones overhead and artillery striking close to his operations, but he continues to work with calm purpose and grace.

Ukraine has changed from Bob’s first trip to his most recent one, and one of the clearest signs of that change is in the farmland. On his first trip, the fields were heavily mined. On his most recent trip, more older gentlemen were back in those fields, determined to help feed the people of Ukraine. Bob has had many powerful experiences there, including working with Ukrainian security teams and assessing people living in dire circumstances. One experience that stayed with him was meeting a resilient grandmother who was caring alone for her 9-year-old granddaughter. The men in the family were fighting, and the girl’s determined mother was in the city, working to support them all. Bob spoke about the relentless stress Ukrainians live under every day and how damaging that kind of sustained pressure can be to the human body. He also pointed out how urgently therapists are needed to care for patients living under that strain, because prolonged stress can be deadly.

Bob asked me to emphasize a few important points: Ukrainians are strongly pro-Western, and just because they speak Russian does not mean they support Russia. In fact, many have stopped speaking Russian in public as an act of defiance. Most importantly, his Ukrainian friends ask Americans “not to forget them.” To me, Bob represents quiet heroism: not seeking attention, but returning again and again to Ukraine’s war-torn places with skill, humor, steadiness, compassion, and hope. With this, I ask my readers to remember humble American heroes like Bob, who keep fighting for kindness in a world that desperately needs it.