My grandfather served in WWI. Well, I'm not sure "served" is the right word. He was part of the South Dakota Guard, or whatever it was called back in those days. He didn't slog around in trenches in Europe, but had stateside "duty." He told me about one of his "missions," which involved traveling to one of the Hutterite colonies that had set up in eastern South Dakota. The Hutterites are a German-speaking Protestant group that are organized around communal farming, though I hear that recently they have gotten into the steel siding racket, too. They have high birth rates and they've gone in for modern hog farming lately, which means less work for all the men, which means the steel siding business is a hedge against Trump's war on agriculture.
The big concern 100 years ago was whether the Hutterites were sufficiently patriotic to the American cause "over there," which happened to be their homeland. So, my grandfather was ordered to "go show the Hutterites how to fly the American flag." And he said he followed orders right down to the letter. He showed them how to run the flag up the flagpole, making sure they knew they had to pull the ropes, put the flag on right, etc. He said his orders didn't specify that they had to actually fly the damn flag. He just had to "show them." He told me he couldn't have cared whether a bunch of farmers flew the flag.
After that nonsense order, my grandfather soured on the military life and turned, if not pacifistic, at least skeptical of war and the people who run it. He didn't care to be thanked for his service. He was embarrassed by it. He might have reacted more kindly to "Never Forget."