Personal to Donald Trump: My uncles weren't losers

 Sam Smith - Donald Trump's description of those who died fighting in World War One as "losers" recalled the fate of three of my uncles during that period.

The war caused death to hang like a shroud over my family. My mother's brother was killed by a shell as he he served as liaison between airplanes and the artillery - part of a three year period in which my grandfather also lost his wife and sister.

My uncle's first cousin was an aviator with the famed Lafayette Escadrille and lost his life a few months earlier while on a scouting mission over German territory. According to one account, "It was almost a year later that the remains of his charred Spad were located about three kilometers south of Montdidier, with a lone grave close by, marked with broken pieces of the plane.

"The Escadrille consisted of American pilots who joined the French Army to fight against the Germans before the US entered the war. In all, 65 American pilots died while in the Lafayette Escadrille and the Lafayette Flying Corps."

Another uncle whom I would never meet came back from the war and, according to one of his grandsons, never smiled again. He had been involved in moving dead bodies from the front. Suffering from what we would call post traumatic stress syndrome, he committed suicide ten years later.

Finally, one of my father's brothers  was lost near Lisbon while serving as an officer aboard Admiral William Halsey's first command. The then Commander Halsey wrote my grandfather.

"Your son was in charge of the forecastle and with the men was busy all the way down the river securing things for sea. As we got to the entrance it was seen there was a large sea running, so we slowed barely to steerage way. We finally ordered all hands off the forecastle. Your son requested permission to stay and secure a hatch. As the safety of the vessel depended on this hatch being secured, permission was granted. . . Scarcely three minutes later a high white wall of water was seen bearing down on us. There was no time to yell more than 'hold on' when the sea hit us. When it cleared, even high up on the bridge where I was, I was gasping for breath from the effects of the water. Life buoys were let go and searchlights were turned on, but your son and young Arthur were never seen again."

When history hits that close to home that often, it's hard to ignore or forget