I firmly believe there’s no way to fully repay the courageous men and women who put their lives on the line for our freedom and safety. Still, we can support them in meaningful ways—through prayers for their well-being, by connecting with their families, and by offering financial or emotional encouragement.
Sadly, far too many military veterans endure their struggles quietly, overlooked by the society they once served.
One evening in 2016, Lou Zezoff, a 74-year-old Vietnam veteran from Granite City, Illinois, stopped at a Cracker Barrel restaurant with his wife, Annette, for a meal. As was his habit, Lou wore his “US Navy Vietnam Veteran” cap. The couple was eager to enjoy a pleasant night out together.
After they were seated, Lou noticed five young men at a nearby table. Unbeknownst to him, they had spotted his cap and were about to turn this ordinary dinner into a night he’d never forget.
As Lou savored his meal, one of the young men approached his table and stood before him. “I stood up,” Lou recalled, finding himself face-to-face with the stranger. The young man extended his hand and expressed gratitude for Lou’s sacrifice—a gesture that caught the veteran off guard. After all, such moments don’t unfold in restaurants every day.
Lou assumed that was the end of it, but then the rest of the group rose from their seats. “I knew they were military by their haircuts—high and tight,” Lou said, recognizing their telltale service member style. Indeed, they were Marines.
The kindness didn’t stop with a single handshake. After the first Marine returned to his table, another approached Lou. Once again, the veteran stood, unsure of what to expect. The second Marine said, “I want to thank you for all five of us,” gesturing toward his companions. Lou thanked them for their words, chatted briefly, and wished them well in their military careers before resuming his meal, thinking the interaction was over.
But the surprises continued. When Lou and Annette finished eating, he signaled for the waiter to bring the check. The waiter arrived, waving the bill with a wide grin, and declared, “This is your lucky day.” The Marines had covered the cost of Lou’s dinner. On the receipt, one of them had scrawled “Semper Fi” at the top and “Oorah!” at the bottom.
Stunned, Lou walked over to their table, put his arm around one of the Marines, and insisted they didn’t need to pay. A simple “thank you” was more than enough. “You don’t have to do this. I know, being in the military, you don’t make a lot of money,” Lou told them. But the Marines wouldn’t budge. “They wanted me to know how much they appreciated me,” Lou said.
As Lou and Annette prepared to leave, the young Marines had one final tribute in store. With the fifth man off settling the bill, the other four approached Lou’s table for a last show of respect. “They filed in front of my table, stood in line, and each one of them again put his hand out, shook my hand, thanked me, hugged me, and walked to my right,” Lou recounted, his eyes welling up as he spoke. The fourth Marine offered “the sharpest salute” Lou had ever seen, leaving him in awe.
The restaurant, once buzzing with conversation, fell silent as patrons watched the scene unfold. “The room got very quiet. Everyone was looking,” Lou said, wiping a tear from his eye. “Sorry … I still tear up when I talk about this. …” Moved by the moment, other diners stood and applauded.
Lou turned to Annette, who urged him to sit and catch his breath after the emotional encounter. She, too, was touched. “It just speaks volumes for the military,” Annette said. “I thought of my son, who is retired Air Force, and the people who thank him for his service. It’s rewarding to see that the military is so strong and so polite.”
Later, Belleville News identified the Marines as Kevin Morris, Val Diaz, Eric A. Morales, Victor M. Andrade Gomez, and Elijah Reynolds—all private first class. When asked for comment, they downplayed their actions. “He fought for us. Now it’s our turn,” said 21-year-old Pfc. Val Diaz from Texas.
Lou Zezoff served in the Navy from 1959 to 1963, including time on the USS Coral Sea during the Vietnam War in 1961 and ’62. An E5 (Petty Officer Second Class), he worked as a parachute rigger and plane captain, overseeing aircraft from pre-flight checks to their safe return. After his military service, Lou became a police officer for 32 years, rising to detective in the 1970s before working court security with the U.S. Marshal’s Service until his retirement in 1996.
Lou’s story is a powerful reminder of how much a small act of appreciation can mean to a veteran. These Marines left an indelible mark on his life, showing that respect and gratitude are the least we can offer those who’ve sacrificed so much.
Our veterans’ dedication came at a steep cost—separation from loved ones and unimaginable trauma. We owe them our recognition and thanks for all they’ve done.
