Editor's note: The original version of this column was published Sept. 26, 2004.

As a child of a World War II veteran who was counted among Tom Brokaw's "Greatest Generation," I've always felt that America's war babies, born to freedom's champions, have their own unique story.

Many fathers returned, and many did not, from the war. Those who made it home to become our fathers often carried unseen but predictable psychological burdens beneath their uniforms.

And we who were born to them and our mothers in the years that followed came to live our own versions of their personal aftermaths. The expectations placed on many children of the Greatest Generation by their fathers were enormous.

That's not to say those household demands for respect, honesty and obedience were necessarily negative. It was, however, impossible for their children to ever comprehend the extent of their pain and anger. And it was all but impossible for us to continually meet their lofty expectations.

I recall our father's wrath when we forgot to respond to him as "sir." His lack of patience was apparent when our efforts........

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