“What a spectacle! What a tribute! What a crap game!” quipped Bob Hope while entertaining troops during the Vietnam War. The comedian was mocking games of chance, but this luckless losing continues today as the Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW) battles to protect its gambling revenues instead of fighting for veterans’ well-being.

The VFW has mounted a counteroffensive following a Supreme Court of Pennsylvania ruling that classified the so-called “skill games” as slot machines, effectively banning them across the state. The decision threatens to blow a huge hole into the revenue of an organization that has become dangerously addicted to gambling, which is why the VFW and the American Legion are now backing legislation in Pennsylvania that would permit electronic “charitable gaming.”

America should not have to race against time when an aging, seriously ill, or deceased veteran has a credible case for reconsideration of military recognition. The cases of Major James Capers Jr. and Sergeant First Class Jorge Otero-Barreto illuminate a larger challenge: when recognition requires decades of advocacy—or arrives after the warrior is gone—the system has waited too long.

In national security, we routinely talk about modernization, readiness, lethality, efficiency and the warrior ethos. Those principles matter because strong institutions must translate policy into outcomes. That standard should apply not only to how America prepares for its next war, but also to how it fulfills its obligations to those who fought its last ones.

He was a WWII fighter pilot. His ashes rested in a polished wooden urn at the front of the little funeral chapel. His life had been full of years, years of success, of joy, of respect, of love of country. A man who had led a Godly, honest life.

The chapel is spare but tasteful, a few rows of polished wooden pews. Suitable for use by any religion or no religion for the last farewell to one who had served his or her country in uniform.