By Dr. Kevin P. Wallace
Van of Valor

Thirteen years ago, I was a technical sergeant sitting in the Galaxy Club at RAF Mildenhall, living a journalist’s dream. 

I had just interviewed Neil Armstrong, Jim Lovell, and Gene Cernan, men who walked on the moon, who stared into the abyss of space and came home to tell us what’s out there. 

At breakfast the next morning, Armstrong himself critiqued my story, called it good, and casually shared aviation trivia over coffee. 

I was 12 years into my Air Force career, and I thought nothing could top that moment. I was wrong. Not because I’d go on to do something greater than breaking bread with the first man on the moon, but because that experience planted a seed I didn’t recognize at the time. 

He taught me the power of being present, of looking someone in the eye, and of making sure their story isn’t lost to time.

Fast forward through a decade and a half of transformation, from technical sergeant to doctor, from military journalist to something I never expected. 

What changed everything wasn’t another brush with celebrity; it was a calling born from the quiet realization that while we rightly celebrate our moonwalkers and aviation pioneers, there exists an entire constellation of heroes whose stories were slipping through the cracks. 

Purple Heart recipients who never made headlines. Prisoners of war whose quiet dignity masked unimaginable suffering. 

Gold Star families who carry the ultimate sacrifice like an invisible weight. 

These weren’t just subjects for a news article, they were people whose legacies demanded more than a byline. They deserved a mission.

That mission became the Van of Valor: 280 consecutive days without a single day off, covering 27,106 miles across America. 

My wife Lauren and I transformed a van into a rolling sanctuary of remembrance, its walls bearing more than 440 names, each one a life, a family, a story waiting to be honored. We sat at kitchen tables and hospital bedsides. 

We held the hands of aging warriors and wept with parents who still kissed their child’s folded flag goodnight. We interviewed 317 Purple Heart recipients, former POWs, and Gold Star families, capturing their voices before time could steal them. 

No moon rock in my pocket could compare to the gravity of what they entrusted to us. Neil Armstrong took one small step that echoed through history, but these heroes took countless steps that echoed through the hearts of those who love them, and those individual footprints were vanishing every day.

The technical sergeant who once marveled at meeting legends now understands that true legend isn’t about fame, it’s about sacrifice that asks nothing in return. I made a solemn vow inside that van, surrounded by those 440 names, that I would never stop telling their stories. 

This commentary marks the continuation of that promise. The boy at Neil Armstrong’s breakfast table couldn’t have imagined the path ahead, but the man writing these words knows exactly where he’s going: wherever the next hero’s story needs to be heard. 

What a cool life I’ve had. And we’re just getting started.

Commentary: An out-of-this-world breakfast with Neil Armstrong

Published March 12, 2010
By Tech. Sgt. Kevin Wallace
100th Air Refueling Wing Public Affairs

RAF MILDENHALL, England —  Am I on the moon?

Right now, I feel like I’m lost in space and am unable to get back to earth.

After covering the “Legends of Aerospace: The Impossible Is Possible” tour at RAF Mildenhall’s Galaxy Club last night, and getting the surreal experience of getting to personally meet and interview Neil Armstrong, Jim Lovell, Gene Cernan, Bob Gilliland, Steve Ritchie and David Hartman, I thought “It doesn’t get much better than this.”

At about 10 p.m. last night I scurried back to my little corner of the 100th Air Refueling Wing Public Affairs office and plugged away at my keyboard, posting a news story about the event by midnight and sending out a worldwide press release shortly thereafter.

As I drove home slightly after 1 a.m. this morning, I was still mesmerized by the experience.

This morning I woke up bright and early as I had to cover a breakfast held in honor of the aerospace icons. What happened at breakfast forever changed my life.

I arrived to the breakfast thinking since I already got exclusive interviews with the “Christopher Columbus of space flight,” I’d end up being a fly on the wall and just taking photos at the breakfast.

Houston, we’ve had a problem – these heroes are signaling that they’d like me to sit at their table for breakfast.

Pulling myself together, my coworker (Staff Sgt. Austin May) and I pulled up chairs and sat down at the big boys’ table. I was sitting right next to Neil Armstrong. Next to him were Gene Cernan and David Hartman.

I had some printed copies of my news story on me, and they wanted to see them. I nervously handed each a copy.

I sat there bewildered as all of them very carefully reviewed my story – and provided comments. Holy cow! Mr. Armstrong, Cernan and Hartman just critiqued a story I wrote, and said they loved it!

A few more sips of coffee helped me keep my composure.

During breakfast we talked about space flight, ranches in California, and a whole array of other subjects – we just chatted for nearly an hour.

At one point, Mr. Armstrong enlightened us on the first air-to-air refueling he knew of. Knowing he was at an air refueling wing, he said he thought we’d particularly enjoy the trivia.

He went on to describe how two bi-planes were flying side by side back in the 1920s when one pilot walked out on the wing of his plane with a 5-gallon bucket of petrol and poured it into the other craft’s gas tank.

After the breakfast, I accompanied some of them on a detour to the Base Exchange. Then we headed to their billeting rooms as they had to get packed up, loaded on a bus, and head down to London within the hour.

I’m 12 years into my Air Force career, and have done and seen many things in the sands of Afghanistan, beaches of Okinawa and even back home in the good old U.S.A. Still, nothing amounts to what it means to be in the presence and converse with arguably some of the greatest icons of the 20th Century.

Reflecting on what all six of those men did for their nation, there’s nothing like it on God’s green earth. Though we all try to do our part and contribute positively to our unit’s missions, it’s icons like Neil Armstrong who provide the motivation to be great.

I’m no Neil Armstrong – but I am sure proud to have gotten the opportunity to have an out-of-this-world breakfast with him.