I find myself thinking of not just those who went in harm's way in combat and lost their lives, but those simply doing their jobs, and something happened. I remember the ashen faces of the ground maintenance team as they came in to tell me a young petty officer, newly reported, had made the fatal error of stepping inside the danger line hash marks, in the half light of pre-dawn, of a turning jet engine, unheard with nearby jets taking off. My DH still thinks about squadron mates lost in carrier or aviation accidents, or a junior sailor of his lost overboard and never found. I think of one of my guys who lost his leg when a line snapped on a tugboat and whipped across the deck, and later died from complications. I remember them all.
Here's a traditional military toast, probably borrowed from the British, to hoist your lemonade or adult beverage to today:
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.
Followed by all repeating: "We will remember them"