A friend asked me to omit something from a news story I wrote recently. I understood why and agreed.

He has since changed his mind for reasons that have nothing to do with him, but everything to do with others like him.

I covered a visit by U.S. Senators Barbara Mikulski and Benjamin Cardin, who helped my friend get several medals he earned, but hadn’t received, because of his service in Vietnam.

In a quiet ceremony attended by only a few people — including me — they gave him the medals in a nice display case.

None was for any act of heroism, but he is still proud of them ... the Good Conduct Medal and other symbols of his service. “They are a tangible exhibit of that time in my life so many years ago,” he said.

My friend told me he didn’t care about personal recognition, “especially when it comes to things others have done even more gallantly and dramatically.”

After further review, he decided that if I’d like to make “a small mention” of the event in my column, it would be OK. “Maybe more of my brothers will recognize that they can get the decorations they are entitled to,” he said.

If anyone deserves a medal, he added, it’s his wife — who he said was as much a part of his life back then as she is now.

I met him through my informal association with Chapter 172 of the Vietnam Veterans of America, a national organization that exists for one reason:

Many who served in the Vietnam War came home to be greeted with everything from indifference to outright derision and hostility, frequently in places where they expected it least — existing veterans service organizations. Why? Maybe someone else can explain it, but I can’t.

Some VSOs did welcome them with open arms, but they may have been the exception. Times and attitudes have thankfully changed for the better, and many Vietnam vets are now officers in posts that once might have not have befriended them.

Vietnam’s veterans decided to look out for each other because few other people wanted anything to do with them. They wanted to ensure that none would be neglected, particularly with regard to health care and other benefits they had earned with their service.

This has been a common purpose of all VSOs ... that, and a desire to continue serving America and its people. It’s a task of staggering proportions, and even something as seemingly inconsequential as a medal can be important.

I listened while one of my VVA friends explained to an Iraq veteran that he could buck the bureaucracy and get the Purple Heart he should have been awarded, but wasn’t. It will have a dramatic effect on the benefits he can receive after he leaves the military.

Another of my VVA buddies recently was awarded 100 percent service-related disability benefits after a long period of what often seemed like futile effort. The difference this will make in his life would be hard to appreciate for anyone who hasn’t gone through the same trials he and his family have.

All of the talk about an obligation to serve our veterans sometimes rings hollow. A staffing reduction at the local Maryland Veterans Commission office has limited the help that’s available for vets who need assistance with claims and other matters. I’m told there’s been a backlog of 300 recorded calls.

My feeling, based on more than 30 years of observation (and my friends agree with it, based on their experience), is that there exists in some minds an unofficial policy that applies to veterans of any era: “Drug a vet and make him forget. If we jerk him around long enough, he will die, and that will save us money.”

It’s offset at least somewhat by the fact that there are many others — including influential figures like Senator Mikulski — who regularly go to the wall on behalf of our veterans. God bless them.

When my friend with the overdue medals was a little boy, he sat in my grandfather’s barber chair just like I did. Some of his family members were my family’s friends, and we shared the same stomping grounds. We go back a long time, although we didn’t realize it until recently.

Today, he is a member of the Cumberland Fire Department. He and others like him deserve more than “a small mention” for their decades of service and honor, but he wishes to remain anonymous, and I respect that.

His message is what’s important:

If you are entitled to something because of your service, go after it. You’ve earned it. It may take time, but there are ways, there are people who want to help you, and they are in a position to do so.

The decorations my late Uncle Abe Goldsworthy earned as an Army medic during World War II remain pinned to his dress uniform jacket, which hangs in a place of honor at my Cousin Craig’s house. Seeing and touching these things connects me once more with a man I admired and loved deeply.

One day, my friend’s medals will surely have a similar effect on somebody who feels the same way about him. But they are more than just a link with his past.

They, and the effort that went into obtaining them, symbolize the respect and gratitude he and the others deserved decades ago, but rarely received until recent years.

Too many Vietnam veterans didn’t live to see how America’s attitude toward them has changed, and for some who still live, the hurt and bitterness may never go away. They represent a terrible lesson we must never forget.

To my friend, I say this: Thank you for what you did all those years ago, for what you’re doing today, and for everything you’ve done in between. I am proud to know you and honored that you think of me as a friend.

You and many of the others never stopped loving America and believing in it, even during that dark time when America didn’t love and believe in you.

Welcome Home.