Van of Valor

By Dr. Kevin WallaceVan of Valor

WASHINGTON, D.C. – Today is the day many Americans and indeed others across the globe have been eagerly awaiting, Super Bowl LX. 

New England Patriots fans and Seattle Seahawks supporters will banter in pubs and bars, as their teams both grind on the gridiron, in effort to win the coveted Lombardi Trophy.

Did you know that, in addition to the renowned Pat Tillman of the Arizona Cardinals, several other NFL players have also paid the ultimate sacrifice on the fields of battle – for their country, not sports team.

The Van of Valor is not a museum on wheels. It is a rolling memorial, a vessel for living memory. My wife, anthropologist Lauren Wallace, and I drove it for 280 consecutive days — without a single day off — across 27,000 miles of American road. Our mission: to sit with the bearers of our nation’s most sacred stories. 

We collected the oral histories of 317 Purple Heart recipients, Prisoners of War, valorous service members, and Gold Star families. We listened, we recorded, and we vowed to weave their threads of sacrifice back into the tapestry of America.

I carry my own threads. As a retired Senior Master Sergeant awarded a Bronze Star with Valor and a Purple Heart from dozens of combat missions, I understand the language of service and the weight of the stories we sought. 

This journey was a pilgrimage of the heart, driven by a duty to remember.

Among the hundreds of stories we carry, a distinct pattern emerges when we look at the fraternity of professional athletes. We honor over 1,300 who served. But within that brotherhood lies a sacred, smaller circle: men who shared the bond of the NFL and the solemn bond of the Purple Heart, awarded for wounds received in combat. They are a unique part of our national fabric, their athletic fame forever intertwined with their ultimate sacrifice.

As the Van of Valor pauses, we highlight a few from this hallowed roster, remembering them not just as players, but as brothers-in-arms whose final game was fought on the world’s most desperate fields.

Pat Tillman (Arizona Cardinals): His is the modern archetype, a story every service member knows. He walked away from glory to become an Army Ranger, driven by a deep, personal code. Killed in Afghanistan in 2004, his Purple Heart is a testament to the brutal price of that conviction. In listening to Gold Star families, we recognize the unique, public face of a loss that is, at its core, profoundly private and universal.

Bob Kalsu (Buffalo Bills): Lieutenant Kalsu, 101st Airborne, represents the quiet, steadfast duty we heard in so many veterans’ voices. In 1970, a rookie and a new father, he refused to leave his men at Firebase Ripcord in Vietnam. His death by enemy fire echoes the stories of countless junior officers and NCOs who put their men first, earning a Purple Heart that speaks of leadership to the very end.

Don Steinbrunner (Cleveland Browns): From a brief NFL stint to an Air Force cockpit, his path was one of skill and courage. Captain Steinbrunner was killed when his aircraft was shot down over Vietnam in 1967. His Purple Heart, earned in the skies, connects him to the airmen we interviewed, men who faced a vast, invisible battlefield.

The stories from WWII veterans we met resonate deeply with the fates of these players, who were often their contemporaries.

Jack Lummus (New York Giants): A Marine on Iwo Jima. His actions—charging enemy strongholds alone after being wounded—earned him the Medal of Honor and the Purple Heart posthumously. His story is one of transcendent, physical valor, the kind that veterans recount with a shake of the head, in awe of a courage that defies understanding.

Al Blozis (New York Giants): Another Giant, an Army lieutenant lost in the snows of France in 1945 while searching for his missing men. His Purple Heart marks a death borne of loyalty. We heard this theme repeatedly—the NCO or officer who could not rest while a soldier was missing.

Charlie Behan (Detroit Lions): A Marine first lieutenant on Okinawa. He was mortally wounded shielding one of his men, after actions that earned him the Navy Cross and the Purple Heart. His is the ultimate act of a teammate, a sacrifice we heard echoed in the stories of infantrymen who became families tighter than any squad.

The Van of Valor carries these NFL stories within a far greater tapestry. We drove 280 days to collect the voices of sacrifice so they would never be silenced. These six players, from a Cardinal to a Lion, are now woven with the threads of 317 other heroes we were privileged to meet. Their Purple Hearts are not mere medals; they are stories of wounds endured for a nation.

Our rolling memorial continues its journey, carrying these stories not as relics, but as living lessons. We tell them to ensure that the price of our freedom, paid by athletes and clerks, farmers and teachers, is never, ever forgotten.

The Van of Valor is a rolling memorial preserving the oral histories of our nation’s heroes. To hear their voices, see their faces, and support our mission, visit us at http://www.HelpVoV.com.