In a war against terrorists, citizens in the war zone are on the front lines. You never know when a car will be transformed into a bomb or a plane into a missile. Outside of 9/11, America has been spared such experiences. Now, we see the war and carnage from afar and want it to be over.

After the terrorist strike on the twin towers, columnist Jerry Useem reminded Americans of how different this war is:

"If this is the first war of the 21st century, then it was also the first war that was visited on the workplace. Home of the cubicle, the busted toner cartridge, and other 'Dilbert' plot conventions, the American office has long been trivialized as a sanctuary of the petty and banal. On September 11, however, it suddenly became anything but. Words and glances passed between colleagues took on life-or-death consequence. Co-workers clasped hands and decided to flee or, in some cases, perish together . Just as the rituals of democracy take on renewed meaning when we're under attack, so too do the rituals of capitalism . Now, our work is not only important, but it is now the source of American muscle."

These words, written in November 2001, remind us that in some way 9/11 has forever transformed Memorial Day. With no slight to the soldiers who have died on past and current battlefields, we should also honor those business people, police, firefighters and average citizens, who, like soldiers, were caught in the cross hairs of war.

On a recent New York trip, I looked into the holes that once held the majestic twin towers. The area bustles with construction activity, but the 9/11 notes and stirring pictures remain to remind us what happened that day.

Searching for a place for quiet meditation, I found the small St. Paul's Chapel. The chapel's wrought iron fence had been a spontaneous memorial covered with banners, flags, pictures, ribbons and letters expressing anger, despair, love, resolve and support. Tormented by the realities at Ground Zero, thousands had cried, prayed and found what solace they could grasp.

Today, the fence is clear, but the chapel houses a collection of letters, pictures and tributes. I came to pray, but I was compelled to read many of the heartfelt messages.

One observed the power of community: "The person standing next to me, who I did not know, took my hand. We cried together." "The little chapel that stood" became a counseling center, hospital, home, cafeteria and memorial "an oasis of heaven in the midst of hell."

There was human pathos but also strong resolve. One message left by Leonard Pitts read, "There's a gulf of difference between making us bloody and making us fall. When provoked by this level of barbarism, we will bear any suffering, pay any cost, go to any length in the pursuit of justice."

It seems he was wrong about some Americans. We won't bear any suffering, pay any cost or go to any length! Impatient with the pace of progress, at a time our military leaders are seeing some progress and asking for sustained support, Democratic leadership wants our soldiers out now.

On Memorial Day, we honor a generation of soldiers who crossed through Hell on Earth so that the sun would continue to shine on this country and its liberties. I fear we fail to fully appreciate the debt this generation owes and the honor due those men and women who persevered to defeat Nazi Germany and fascist Japan. As a result, we fail to understand what it will take to defeat the Islamofascists we face today!

In response to a recent column, Hal Wilder wrote:

"Seventy-seven years ago, when I was 12, I read a quote from Dinsmor Eli, who, mortally wounded in France, said, 'It is an investment, not a loss, when a man dies for his country.'" But each death is a painful loss for the families and friends who grieve. So on Memorial Day, we remember these painful losses and costly investments then and now with deepest appreciation.

There are scenes from the movie "Saving Private Ryan" that ought to be seen every Memorial Day. In a final street battle, Capt. Miller (Tom Hanks), whose men were charged to find and safely bring back Private Ryan, is mortally wounded.

As Pvt. Ryan (Matt Damon) kneels by his side, the captain says in his last breath, "Earn this." In the closing scene, as Ryan's family walks the Normandy Cemetery, an aged Ryan implores his wife to reassure him that he has indeed "earned" what Miller and others did for him.

For the rest of us, the fields of military and 9/11 graves ought to remind us of the price so many have paid and continue to pay for our freedom and our well-being. For each generation, on Memorial Day and every day, may all Americans once again take to heart Miller's charge to Ryan: "Earn this!"

Terry Paulson, of Agoura Hills, is a psychologist, speaker, author and host to the PoliticalTalk Blog. Contact him at www.politicalassessment.com or at terry@terrypaulson.com.