President Donald Trump and Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth on the 25th anniversary of the Sept. 11 attacks used their remarks to pitch the Iran war as a continuance of the Global War on Terrorism.

U.S. military bases around the world marked the 25th anniversary of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks with solemn ceremonies, stair climbs and other physical challenges honoring victims and first responders.

Stars and Stripes spent recent weeks speaking with Americans impacted by the 9/11 attacks — those who were in the Pentagon when it was struck, those who enlisted in the aftermath and some who went to war seeking revenge for the attack.

“She was so happy,” Kathy Dillaber says about the last vision she had of her sister, Patty Mickley, on Sept. 11, 2001. Mickley was one of the 184 people who died that day in the terrorist attack on the Pentagon.

“The attacks of 9/11 created a generation of Gold Star families,” said Kimberly Hazelgrove, an Army intelligence analyst whose husband died in Iraq in 2004.

The visitor center will keep the stories from the 9/11 attacks at the Pentagon alive for younger generations of Americans who do not remember or were not yet born.

U.S. senators discuss President Barack Obama’s announcement to begin withdrawing troops from Afghanistan during their visit on Independence Day in this 2011 Stars and Stripes photo.

A doctor injects a local anesthetic into a soldier’s gums at the Bulwark ‘04 exercise in Bulgaria in this 2004 Stars and Stripes photo.

Local and military leaders from the U.S., Australia and Japan, in town for Talisman Sabre drills, layed wreaths at the Bowen War Memorial in Australia in this 2019 Stars and Stripes photo.

President Barack Obama speaks on the 15th anniversary of the 9/11 terror attacks at the Pentagon in this 2016 Stars and Stripes photo.

Two soldiers man a guard post at the Range 54 camp in Sinjar, Iraq, in this 2003 Stars and Stripes photo.

Many young people left the September 2025 protests in Nepal with scars — both physical, emotional, and financial Originally published on Global Voices Nepal's Gen Z protests against corruption in Bharatpur, south-central Nepal. Image via Wikipedia by Himal Subedi . CC BY-SA 4.0 . This post is part of Global Voices’ September 2026 Spotlight series, “ Protest in Democracy .” With this Spotlight, we seek to explore the many forms of protest, the tactics states use to delegitimize and suppress them, and the complex relationship between protest and democracy. You can support this coverage by donating here . Nepal observed its first Gen-Z Martyrs’ Day on September 8, 2026, with a nationwide public holiday, marking exactly one year since young protesters took to the streets and caused fundamental change throughout Nepal’s social and political system. In September 2025, Nepal was gripped by nationwide protests led largely by students and members of Gen Z . The movement began with the government’s ban on social media platforms , but it quickly grew, without a leader , into a broader expression of public frustration over government corruption and inefficiency. Over several days, young Nepalis took to the streets across the country, protesting not only restrictions on online expression but also corruption, alleged misuse of public funds, and the visible wealth of political elites and their families. The protests then descended into confrontations with police officers that escalated and resulted in unlawful use of force, including severe human rights violations . Liza’s frustrations Among those caught in the violence was Liza Adhikari, 21, who was shot by an SLR bullet while standing opposite the Parliament Secretariat building. The bullet struck her from behind, tore through her body, and exited through the front, leaving behind an injury that cannot simply be stitched away. Liza Adhikari, taken on a stretcher to the National Trauma Center Hospital in Kathmandu—half an hour after she was shot. Image via Liza Adhikari. Used with permission. A final-year Bachelor of Business Administration student at Kathmandu University, Adhikari has not returned to her classes since the incident. She is left to suffer not just the physical damage but an emotional burden as well. She appealed for financial assistance through social media and visited hospitals across Nepal in search of treatment. With limited options available, she eventually traveled to India, where she recently underwent brachial plexus surgery . The brachial plexus is a network of nerves that carries signals from the spinal cord to the shoulder, arm and hand, allowing movement and sensation. In an online interview with the author from a hospital in India, Adhikari told Global Voices that the bullet had severely damaged the bones in her upper arm and doctors had told her that the veins were no longer functioning properly. Her chances of making a full recovery, she was told, remain uncertain. Yet she has not given up. Liza Adhikari, present day, in Mahakali (Sudurpaschim) province of Nepal. Image taken by her mother. Used with permission. That determination is also what brought her to the protest that day — something she now remembers with great loss and regret. The bullet has been removed, but its consequences continue to shape her health and educational path. Liza wasn’t alone on the streets that day. Shantanu’s story Shantanu Dhakal’s survival from Itahari , in the Sunsari District of Koshi Province in Nepal, is yet another example of the lasting consequences of the violence that was no longer confined to the capital. On September 8, 2025, Shantanu was in his college. Little did he know that the day of the protest would become an unexpected turning point in his life. For several days before the demonstration, he had been receiving information about the planned protest through social media. The 18-year-old, an only son born into a middle-class farming family in Morang district of eastern Nepal, joined the protest in Itahari that day. He went with confidence, carrying a banner filled with slogans he had prepared with his friends. “For the first hour, the streets were peaceful. But suddenly, after a while, crowds started marching aggressively, burning and throwing stones at public property and the Metropolitan City ward office. It lasted for two hours. Around four p.m., bullets and tear gas were fired at civilians. When the first bullet was shot, it went somewhere else; nobody knew where. But when the second bullet was fired, I didn’t realize that it was me this time,” he said in an online interview. In a matter of seconds, the protest that Shantanu had joined with confidence became a moment of survival. He regained consciousness about a minute later, after being taken to a nearby clinic where his wound was bandaged. He was then placed on a stretcher and taken to Birat Teaching Hospital. Until then, he remembers, “I had no hearing, no vision, nothing. Perhaps no sensory cells were functioning properly at that time.” Shantanu during the treatment in Biratnagar. Image via Shantanu. Used with permission. His first instinct was to run. That instinct may have saved him from further injury. The bullet entered through the left side of his jaw, fractured the bone around his teeth, and damaged the soft tissue inside his mouth before traveling towards his chest. What followed was not just emergency treatment, but the beginning of a long recovery. He initially underwent a tracheostomy and was kept on a tube to help him breathe. This was later followed by grafting as part of his treatment. For many, an injury may eventually become nothing more than a physical mark. For Shantanu, however, the scar still carries the memory of what happened that day. Even after ten months, it can bring back the trauma. Some days, it triggers regret and painful memories; on others, he learns to make adjustments and live with it. Because ultimately, life goes on. But the consequences of that day do not remain only on his skin. The injury has affected his physical movements, particularly while eating and sleeping, and its effects become even more noticeable when he works in the farm fields. His body has undergone two surgeries, although neither was considered major. Shantanu (standing in front of the PM office in Singhadurbar, Kathmandu. Image by Shantanu. Used with permission. The injury has also brought a financial burden to his family. Medicines prescribed by his surgeons are not always readily available and are expensive. Fortunately, much of his medical treatment has been covered by the Government of Nepal. Not every person who took to the streets was left with bruises on their body, while many have been marked with fear and trauma. Riya's story Riya (name changed), a police constable, also has a similar story. In an in-person interview with the author, she shared that she was on duty in Baneshwor , Kathmandu, on September 8, 2025, with some of her colleagues and friends. “The street was peaceful for the first half an hour, but suddenly it turned violent. Some of my friends were taken away by police, while I was struck by stones, severely bruising my left foot. I was taken to a nearby hospital, and my wound was bandaged,” she said. Riya getting treatment in a clinic. Image by Riya. Used with permission. But the fear continued after she left the hospital. “It was the scariest moment. Even after I returned home, that feeling did not easily go away,” she recalled. On September 8th alone, 19 people died during the protests , with hundreds more injured. But their deaths didn’t end the conversations they stood for. Abhijeet Adhikari, a lawyer and political activist, reflects on that day. Speaking to Global Voices over the phone, he said, “No principle of proportionality was followed,” fueling the public’s demand for accountability. Justice and accountability After the protests led to the installation of an interim government , numerous investigations have sought to determine responsibility and prosecution procedures . A judicial inquiry commission led by Gauri Bahadur Karki recommended the arrest of the leaders involved, including then-Prime Minister, former prime minister (K.P.) Sharma Oli , Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak , and others. However, a separate review panel in July 2026 found that the available evidence was not sufficient to hold them under criminal liability charges. Since then, even after a year, the path towards prosecution has become politically contested, and accountability still remains uncertain. Yet amid all these uncertainties, Liza, Shantanu, and Riya shared their thoughts on the impact of the protests and how the subsequent violence continues to affect them as they marked the anniversary. For Liza, those days remain intertwined with regret and the consequences of a decision she wishes she could undo. “Maybe, if I had listened to my parents that day, this wouldn’t have happened to me,” she said. For Riya, she chose not to remain trapped in the past. “Whatever happened, happened. It’s in the past,” she said. Yet, she remains uncertain about the direction in which the country is heading. While Shantanu grapples with a facial scar, he refuses to allow it to become his future. While he is slowly picking himself up as a recent high school graduate and is busy preparing to pursue an engineering degree. When you look at him, his smile says it all. Perhaps that’s the beauty of every survivor like him. Written by Susmita Aryal

A notice posted at a checkout aisle at the Vogelweh commissary, in this 2011 Stars and Stripes photo, informs customers that magazines and most newspapers will no longer be sold in commissaries overseas.

Visitors to the Manila American Cemetery and Memorial look at a map featuring the Battle of Midway in this 2009 Stars and Stripes photo.

I never thought of documenting the Indigenous Tharu folklore until my grandmother left this world. Now she is no more with us, I yearn for those priceless words of wisdom.

Some interesting stories I came across during documentation of Tharu Indigenous folklore Originally published on Global Voices A Tharu woman from Kailali District of Western Nepal with tattoos on her legs. Photo by Indu Tharu, used with permission. This post is part of Global Voices’ August 2026 Spotlight series, “ Indigenous Rights .” This series offers insight into the lives and experiences of Indigenous peoples to build connections across regions, center Indigenous experiences, and share the stories of leaders, activists, community members, and more. You can support this coverage by donating here . As a child, I used to sit with my grandmother near a borais ( a small earthen pot used to make fire) during the harsh winter days. I would listen to her stories of benevolent and malevolent characters — djinns, spirits, ghosts, witches and wizards, trees, birds and animals that had special significance in the Tharu culture and tradition. She used to sing folk songs and then explain their meaning. I never thought of documenting the Indigenous Tharu folklore until she left this world. Now that she is no more with us, I yearn for those priceless words of wisdom. Fortunately, I had the opportunity to join hands with Amrit Sufi and Subhasish Panigrahi , who have not only been documenting oral culture in India but have also inspired and helped many culture and tradition lovers document their own cultures. Documenting Indigenous folklore is time-consuming work. One needs to spend time with the communities before they are comfortable enough to open up and share their folktales, songs, phrases and idioms, not to mention their personal experiences. While documenting Tharu oral culture in eastern Nepal, I came across many interesting facts that would reveal untold facets of Indigenous stories if researched further. A tattoo has many stories to tell. A fish tattoo on the hand of Bhuti Devi from Nepal's Sunsari District. Photo by Sanjib Chaudhary, used with permission. Morangsair: A song of seasonal migration When I recorded a folk song called “Morangsair” or “Morangesari,” which is still sung in the eastern part of Nepal’s southern plains, I learned about the seasonal migration of young men from the Saptari District , in the easternmost part of Madhesh Province to Morang District of Koshi Province in eastern Nepal where it was more fertile and provided work for men wanting to earn some extra money. Sunsari District , named after the Sursair River (nowadays called “Sunsari River”), was part of the Morang District before 1962. Now, we have to cross two rivers, the Koshi River and Sunsari River, to get to Sunsari (earlier Morang) from Saptari. The journey used to be much more difficult in those times, before bridges were built. The folk song is the lament of a young woman who is pleading with her husband not to go to Morang. She talks about the dense forest, the hot climate and the Sursair River, which he would need to cross to get to Morang. However, the song doesn’t mention the Koshi River, which is the biggest river in Nepal and lies ahead of the Sunsari River on the way to Morang. In the video below, Chandrakala Chaudhary from Itahari, Sunsari District, sings “Morangsair”, also called “Morangesari”: Researching further, I learned that the current Koshi River had been flowing many kilometres east of where it is now. In the Indian part, the river has shifted almost 100 kilometres west. Also, the Ganges River is called “Sursuri” or “Sursari” in the Guru Granth Sahib , a sacred Hindu scripture. The Sursair and Koshi Rivers eventually terminate in the Ganges. Biyahi: When a river is named after a married woman Talking with a Tharu elder, Mahabir Chaudhary, in Nepal’s Saptari District, I came across an interesting fact: A river and its tributary have been named after the Tharu words for a married woman. The river has been renamed “Behai” by the Nepali-speaking administrators. However, according to Tharu elders, the river’s original name is “Biyahi,” meaning the “first wife” in Kochila Tharu or Eastern Tharu language. A tributary called “Samdahi” feeds the river. Samdahi is the word for “second wife” in Eastern Tharu. The Samdahi River and Biyahi River, after the confluence, continue flowing as the Biyahi River. Sabudana ke gachhi: The tattoo motif that tells the story of sago pearls Kashia Chaudhary from Nepal's Sunsari District with a sago palm and marigold tattoos on her lower arms. Photo by Sanjib Chaudhary, used with permission. These days, sabudana or sago found in the markets is made mainly from cassava root starch. However, traditionally sago pearls were also made from the pith of sago palms. I came to find out about this process of making sago pearls during an interview with elderly Eastern Tharu-speaking women. One of them showed a tattoo that looked like a palm tree and said that it was sabudana ke gachhi . “Gachhi” is a Tharu word for a tree. She also told me that sabudana used to be made from a palm tree. I then researched further and found that in the past they used to cut down the palm trees, scrape the starchy core from the trunk and process it further to make sago pearls. The tradition is still prevalent in some southeastern countries. There are many more stories I have heard while documenting Tharu oral culture that need to be told to a wider audience. But I still yearn to recall the stories told to me by my grandmother while sitting together by the fireside on chilly winter days. Written by Sanjib Chaudhary

Service members cheer as they hoist a boy holding a newspaper up onto their shoulders in this 1961 Stars and Stripes photo.

The Pentagon agency responsible for recovering America’s war dead is prepared to send teams back into North Korea for the first time in two decades if renewed diplomacy between President Donald Trump and Kim Jong Un opens the door.

Col. Alan Smith, director of military member support for the National Committee for Employer Support of the Guard and Reserve, helps a hotline caller in this 2003 Stars and Stripes photo.