As the number of living World War II veterans continues to decline, their stories become ever more precious. One Southern California artist is making sure those memories are preserved in a meaningful and deeply personal way. With a unique tribute to a centenarian veteran, he is honoring not just a man, but an entire generation often remembered as “The Greatest Generation.”
A cozy living room decorated with soft neutral tones
U.S. Army veteran Sgt. John T. “Jack” Moran is preparing to celebrate his 100th birthday. A recipient of both the Purple Heart and Bronze Star, Moran’s memories of the war remain vivid. He recalls the harrowing days of combat with clarity and emotion. “Day after day, the shells just barely missed me,” he said. Out of the 33 men in his platoon, only two returned home. His survival, he believes, was more than just luck. “I have to believe that God wanted me home, wanted me back.”
In the trenches of World War II, Moran endured the unimaginable. “We were cold all the time. We were hungry all the time. We were scared all the time,” he remembered. These firsthand accounts offer powerful insight into the experiences of those who served during one of history’s most devastating conflicts. I found this detail striking: despite the passage of decades, the emotional weight of those memories remains deeply etched in Moran’s voice.
To mark this milestone birthday, artist Steven Brousseau offered Moran a gift that was both artistic and profoundly respectful. Brousseau, a Southern California native, has dedicated himself to interviewing and illustrating World War II veterans. His passion lies in capturing their stories visually, creating what he describes as “a window into the past.”
The two first met in 2018 and have kept in touch ever since. For Moran’s 100th birthday, Brousseau presented a hand-drawn portrait that tells a story in itself. One side of the image features a young soldier, full of resolve and duty. The other side shows the man he is today, a seasoned veteran who has lived a century. The symbolism is powerful, capturing both the youth that went to war and the wisdom that came home.
“Did you draw this?” Moran asked when he received the portrait. “I did,” Brousseau replied. Moran responded with heartfelt appreciation. “Very fortunate that this kid lived long enough to be this person here,” he said, pointing to both sides of the drawing. His gratitude was palpable. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I appreciate this very much.”
Tributes like this one serve a dual purpose. They honor veterans while also educating younger generations about the sacrifices made in the name of freedom. In a time when fewer and fewer World War II veterans remain, preserving their stories through art becomes not only a gift but a responsibility. Brousseau’s work ensures that these memories are not lost to time, but instead live on in visual form, accessible and poignant.
Portraits of veterans, especially those tied to milestone events like a 100th birthday, help humanize history. They remind us that behind every medal and every battlefield statistic is a person with a story worth telling. In Moran’s case, it is a story of survival, resilience, and gratitude. His reflections offer a sobering yet inspiring glimpse into a past that shaped the present.
The connection between artist and veteran also highlights the importance of intergenerational dialogue. Brousseau’s commitment to documenting these stories shows how art can bridge time, offering both remembrance and recognition. His portraits are more than drawings — they are testaments to courage and endurance.
As we reflect on this tribute, it’s worth remembering the broader context. The number of living World War II veterans is steadily declining, making each one’s story increasingly rare and valuable. Initiatives like Brousseau’s help ensure that these voices are heard and honored while there is still time.
Whether through oral history, visual art, or written word, preserving the legacy of World War II veterans like Sgt. Jack Moran is a task that carries both emotional and historical weight. It’s a reminder that history is not just found in textbooks, but in the lived experiences of those who shaped it. And sometimes, the most powerful tributes come not through grand ceremonies, but through the quiet gift of a drawing — one that speaks volumes about a life well lived and a century well earned.
