When my grandfather set off for World War II, he was a handsome young officer in his prime, the spitting image of Gregory Peck. He returned a very different person, haunted by what he’d seen. Like countless others who fought to safeguard the freedom of this country, he never truly found peace again. He survived the bullets only to drink himself to death. Were he alive today I wonder what he would make of his legacy — today’s generation of young people for whom he sacrificed his health, happiness and, ultimately, his sanity. Part of me is very glad he’s...