EDITOR’S NOTE: This is part of a weekly series on our region’s history coordinated by the Trumbull County Historical Society.

As the country celebrates its Semiquincentennial this year, my mind keeps drifting back to the men and women from the small, rural African American community of Braceville — the place where I grew up in the 1950s and 60s.

Our community first appeared in the 1930 census. In the 1930, 1940 and 1950 counts, about 400 people lived there, and out of that small number, about 80 served in World War I, World War II, the Korean War and the Vietnam War. For such a tiny place, we were deeply patriotic.

People joined the military for all kinds of reasons.

Some wanted training that could lead to steady work. Others didn’t have a clear plan yet, but the structure and independence of military life appealed to them. Some simply wanted to see the world beyond our little corner of Ohio.

Whatever their reasons, they all gave up years of their lives — some a few, some many — to serve this country with honor. This is for them.

We’ve lost so many of their stories because most of those veterans are no longer with us. I often think about my father, Leon Bruton, who drove in the “Red Ball Express” during World War II. I wish I could have asked him what it felt like to haul supplies to the front lines, or what went through his mind when he had to switch off his truck lights at night, knowing the darkness was his only protection. He was barely out of his teens — just 20 years old — carrying the weight of other people’s lives in the back of his truck.

I remember my great-uncle, William Barnes, telling us about serving overseas in a hospital unit.

One day they warned that the area might be attacked. Soldiers and medical staff were evacuated, but somehow he was left behind and placed in charge of the entire hospital.

Thankfully, the attack never came, and he made it home safely.

My uncle, Walter Toles, talked about being among the first groups to enter Vietnam. Everything there felt foreign to him — the land, the sounds, the heat — and he often wondered what exactly they were fighting for as they marched through unfamiliar territory.

I’ve read my husband, Terry Shavers’ Silver Star citation, describing the valor that earned him that award, along with his Bronze Star and the recognition for completing 25 airlifts in Vietnam.

I wish I knew more about the honors other Braceville veterans received, but even the few stories I’ve heard make it clear: our community was committed, courageous and patriotic.

I’m writing this on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, thinking about some of his teachings and how they apply to my life, my family, my country and our future. Dr. King spoke of two kinds of laws — just and unjust. Just laws align with moral law or the law of God. Unjust laws clash with that moral foundation and degrade human dignity.

He believed we are responsible not only for obeying just laws, but also for challenging unjust ones.

The men and women from Braceville who served believed they were upholding laws and ideals that lifted people up rather than tore them down. Freedom and human dignity are powerful motivators. People will risk their lives so others can experience the same freedoms they hold dear. Freedom has always been a mighty force.

My great-grandmother, Lula Barnes, lived to be 107. I remember some of her stories, but I wish I had written down every word. She once told her husband, Dollie Barnes, that they needed to get their seven sons out of Alabama.

Simply living there was dangerous. Unjust laws allowed lynchings to go unpunished. False accusations could lead to biased trials, lifelong imprisonment, or worse. Many families were trapped in the endless cycle of sharecropping and debt. So, like millions of other African Americans, they joined the Great Migration. They left in search of economic opportunity and a life free from the terror of night riders, burning crosses and the constant threat of violence.

The hatred was real, and it pushed them north. Three of their sons were already married with families, but the other four served in the military after arriving in Braceville. My great-grandmother worked with another resident — possibly Mrs. Blaszek, though I’m not completely sure — helping distribute ration tickets to the community.

My husband has a picture of his mother, my aunt and their friend standing proudly, saluting. That was Braceville: patriotic, law-abiding and ready to serve. We honored this country not just with words, but with action.

Today, the Braceville African American Heritage Museum at 1250 Cedar St. SW has a small room dedicated to the Great Migration families who served in the military. As we celebrate the Semiquincentennial, we thank them for protecting the freedoms we enjoy. And may we, the people, continue to defend and cherish that freedom for generations to come.