[1]Lucas Kunce for U.S. Senate

Hi John, it’s
Lucas Kunce.

Instead of sending you an email about my campaign today, I wanted to share
something I recently published on Substack about the veterans who inspired
me to join the U.S. Marine Corps.

You can find the full text below — and if you’d like to read more, please
click the button to subscribe and find all my posts.

[ [link removed] ]SUBSCRIBE ON SUBSTACK

More from me soon,

— Lucas

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Service Means Sacrifice

Pleus Hall was one of those typical church meeting halls you find all
across Missouri. A large room, usually full of tables, with a kitchen on
one end. At Immaculate Conception parish — IC for short — the hall was
used for all sorts of gatherings, both on Sunday and throughout the week.
It probably still is.

[ [link removed] ]Pleus Hall
Pleus Hall

For a stretch of time, before my littlest sister was born, it was used for
something quite special to our family. My parents and several of their
friends had been deeply involved in running twice-a-month dinners there
for anyone who wanted to come. The idea was that people who were
struggling to feed themselves and their families would have a reliable
place to go a couple times a month. They believed it was a good Christian
way to serve the community and made sure us kids were a part of it.

We enjoyed it quite a bit. In nice weather we could even walk, since the
hall was only about a third of a mile from our house.

[ [link removed] ]Lucas at a church gathering
Lucas at a church gathering

The guy who oversaw the parish kitchen, A.G., made things fun and
interesting for all the kids whose parents brought them to help out.
First, we would set the tables, and then we could sign up for our nightly
duties. Things like helping clean up, gathering trash, re-setting the
tables, greeting people, or whatever else needed doing.

When A.G. would ask us what chores we wanted to do, my sister, who was a
year younger than me, and I would shoot up our hands.

[ [link removed] ]Lucas during the time of the dinners
Lucas during the time of the dinners

[ [link removed] ]Lucas first communion, IC
Lucas' first communion, IC

“Ooh, ooh, ooh! We want to do the dishes! We want to do the dishes!” We
would yell.

He thought we were nuts. I mean, what kid wants to do the dishes? But he
let us roll with it.

As for me and my sister, we thought A.G. was the one who was crazy. You
see, at home, doing the dishes was quite the ordeal. You had to clear them
from the table, stack them all up, fill the tubs with water, scrub the
dishes clean, rinse them, set them on the counter, and then towel them dry
before putting them away. And I can tell you right now, when the person
cooking isn’t the same one cleaning, there always seems to be a lot more
to scrub!

The parish, on the other hand, had dishwasher machines, so doing the
dishes there was no more than waiting for someone to bring them in from
the tables, tossing them into the machine, and pressing a button. We felt
like we were totally scamming old A.G. by calling that a chore!

I’m not sure when it happened, he never let on to us kids, but at some
point he figured out why we thought doing the dishes was such a good deal.
Eventually, for reasons unknown to me, the dinners ended and we didn’t see
A.G. as much anymore.

Then, one day, his big blue pickup truck rumbled up in front of our house
and parked. He came up to the house and talked to my mom for a minute and
then we all walked out to his truck. He climbed up and pointed to
something in the bed, smiling. It was a dishwasher.

A.G. hadn’t forgotten our unexpected enthusiasm in doing the dishes back
during those dinners and, when he later remodeled the kitchen in his
house, he saved his old dishwasher, loaded it up on his truck, and brought
it by our house. A friend of his installed it for us.

A common characteristic of people who strengthen their communities is that
they understand that service often means sacrifice. I was surrounded by it
growing up. People taking care of others when it won’t bring them any
glory or benefit, often despite the fact that it’s extra work for them
with no reward beyond helping their fellow man. In fact, if someone were
to look at what people here in the heartland do for one another with a
cold and calculating eye, they could easily conclude that individually it
doesn’t make any sense. But we help each other anyway. Because it’s how we
survive as a whole.

Many years later, I reconnected with A.G. when I was trying to figure out
how I could best pay back my community for everything they had done for me
and my family over the years. A.G., a Marine Vietnam veteran, took me down
to the Marine Corps League in Apache Flats, Missouri, far out on the west
side of town.

There I met a crew of Americans who did what their country asked of them,
and who had never asked for anything in return. I listened to their
stories. Of a war their politicians had sent them to, most of whom were
drafted, and what it was like coming home. After watching their best
friends bleed out in front of them thousands of miles from home.

One old Marine, R., a Jeff City High School grad just like me, pulled out
his guitar and sang some songs for us. About answering the call for your
country. About how their fathers had fought in the second world war and
come home heroes. How they thought it would be the same for them, and how
very, very, different it ended up being for them during and after Vietnam.

He gave me a CD, called [ [link removed] ]The Young and the Brave, that was full of his
songs. I listened to it on loop for weeks and I still have it. These were
the guys I looked up to growing up. Our Vietnam vets might not have come
home heroes, but they were my heroes. For the selfless service they gave
their country and continued to give to their communities, despite what
they had gone through.

[ [link removed] ]The Young and The Brave Album Cover
The Young and The Brave Album Cover

They inspired me to follow in their footsteps and become a US Marine. And
so I did, and before I knew it I was overseas just like them.

I led a police training team of twelve Marines and a Navy Corpsman in
Iraq. I occasionally thought of those old timers when planning our
missions outside the wire and making sure the Marines in my charge, the
young and the brave, came home safely. I thought about them again when I
came home from Iraq, and both times I came home from Afghanistan. Because
unlike them, each time I returned to American soil, I was thanked for my
service and treated with the utmost respect.

[ [link removed] ]Lucas leading a mission outside the wire in Iraq — Use of military
rank, job titles, and photographs in uniform do not imply endorsement by
the Department of the Navy or the Department of Defense
Lucas leading a mission outside the wire in Iraq — Use of military rank, job
titles, and photographs in uniform do not imply endorsement by the Department of
the Navy or the Department of Defense

[ [link removed] ]Lucas at a local police outpost in rural Afghanistan — Use of military
rank, job titles, and photographs in uniform do not imply endorsement by
the Department of the Navy or the Department of Defense
Lucas at a local police outpost in rural Afghanistan — Use of military rank, job
titles, and photographs in uniform do not imply endorsement by the Department of
the Navy or the Department of Defense

My generation of veterans would have never received that welcome if not
for the suffering that our Vietnam vet brothers and sisters went through.

And when people ask me why I joined the Marine Corps, instead of some
other service, I think about A.G. and I tell them, “You never forget the
man who saved you 45 minutes of hard labor at the sink every night.”

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Use of military rank, job titles, and photographs in uniform do not imply endorsement by the Department of the Navy or the Department of Defense.