This story orginally ran in July after the Republican National Convention ended. We brought it back as part of our tribute to members of the military on this Veterans Day. 

The flight from Cleveland to Charlotte may have been short, but I will have the memory of the man next to me for a very long time.

He was in his seat when I boarded, sitting next to the window watching quietly at what was happening outside as passengers filed on slowly.

A woman walked by, asked whether I was "8F," then noticed the decorated war veteran in full uniform next to me was in her seat. She glanced at the boarding pass in his hand and quietly went to the seat he was supposed to be in behind us.

After an exhausting week of work that has physically and emotionally drained me, I could have easily ridden in silence. It was easy to tell when I sat down that the man was hard of hearing and had a thick accent that made him hard to understand, so conversation wasn't going to be easy.

But I couldn't not ask. I couldn't not ask what brought him to Cleveland. I couldn't not ask when he served our country. I couldn't not ask about the medals on his chest. So I did.

Freedom

He came to the Republican National Convention, he said, because it's America, he's free and he can. He served in Korea, he said. It was obvious the veteran was an immigrant and had not lost his accent, so I asked where he was born, and he said the Philippines.

What comes next is a testament to what America stands for, the freedoms we enjoy and the current political process of choosing a president.

Fame Academia, 88, doesn't just understand it, he lived it.

He wasn't free until America freed him. When he was 7, the Japanese took over his country. Because his father was a mayor, the foreign troops put him and his family in a stockade. They beat his father, and when Fame tried to defend him, the Japanese soldiers beat him. So badly, he said, he saw "stars around his head." They punched him in the head, the chest, the stomach and the legs.

Then came the Bataan Death March: Fame and his family were walked the 65 miles to prison camps. He remembers Gen. Douglas MacArthur's promise to return.

At some point, Fame and his family were released. They retreated to their farm of coconut groves, and when American planes came back to the island to fight the Japanese, Fame and his family helped rescue pilots who were shot down and hid the Americans in their groves. When the U.S. had gained control, Fame was finally free.

U.S. Navy

Humbled by the turn of events in his life, Fame joined the U.S. Navy and fought for our freedom for the next 28 years. In Korea, he helped smuggle 100 Chinese soldiers, who didn't want to fight, back to their country. He recalled the trip — the soldiers dressed in civilian clothing locked away in the bottom of the ship because they still couldn't be trusted — in the dead of night, setting sail without lights dropping the Chinese off at shore then returning to Manila Bay, still in the cover of darkness.

Fame knows what could've happened if they were caught. Then, on one of the runs his ship was making to carry ammunition for the United Nations, Fame was on a 24-hour security shift when two drunk men came on board with a cleaver. They cut the tendons in his ankles so he couldn't run, but Fame found a makeshift weapon and kept fighting back.

Today, he wears a Purple Heart pinned on the lapel of his U.S. Navy uniform, an award for his heroism and selfless act to save the ship and the men on board.

Even then, Fame kept serving. He has flown with admirals and served with the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He was in a destroyer off the Cuban coast waiting to intercept Russian ships at during the Bay of Pigs invasion. Fame said, "I've had many near life experiences." He means near death, but when you think about it, either way tells the story of his life.

There weren't just stories of war and hardship; at one point, when he told me a story about sailing through a storm, Fame started singing, "Chasing Rainbows, da da da da da da ....," and said that's what was playing on the radio while the ship rocked up and down on the waves — waves he compared to those in the movie, "A Perfect Storm." Fame hummed for a little longer, and it was almost as though that was somehow a good memory.

RNC trip

Fame's wife didn't want him to go to the convention alone, because he doesn't get around well, and she was worried about him. But fate intervened on her behalf.

On his flight to Cleveland, a young woman sat next to Fame and introduced herself as the secretary to House Speaker Paul Ryan. She offered Fame a pile of badges that allowed him easy entrance and VIP access for the two days he was there. Fame became the guest of one of the most powerful men in this country, and he took in every ounce of the experience. He smiled and giggled like a boy when he was talking about where he was sitting and the extraordinary view he had of the stage.

During our conversation, Fame leaned in close and said, "Whoever you vote for, just use the privilege and go vote." As I start another arduous week of work, prepared to face protesters and politicians, Fame reminds me it's about more than that. It's about honoring him and the men who, like him, continue to make it possible for me to live free.

And to think I almost didn't say hello.