By John J. Daley.
Here's to the red of it ~There's not a thread
No, not a shred of it, In all the spread of
From foot to head; But heroes bled for it,
Faced steel and lead for it, Precious blood
was shed for it,
Bathing in Red!
Here's to the white of it~ Thrilled by the
sight of it,
Who knows the right of it, But feels the might
Through day and night? Womanhood's care for
Made manhood dare for it,
Keeps it so white!
Here's to the blue of it~ Beauteous view of
Heavenly hue of it, Star-spangled dew of it,
Constant and true; Diadems gleam for it,
States stand supreme for it ,Liberty's beam
Brightens the blue!
Here's to the whole of it ~ Stars, stripes
and pole of it,
Body and soul of it, O, and the roll of it,
Sun shining through; Hearts in accord for
Swear by the sword for it, Thanking the Lord
Red, White and Blue!
We propped him up and brushed the dirt away
from his swollen lips, A
ragged breath escaped him as the guns boomed
from our ships. In his
shattered arm he tried to clutch and protect
an American Flag, He didn't
seem to realize that it was little more than
a tattered rag.
"I've got to plant her high, sir, that's
my job you understand, Over
there on the hill behind me, it's the highest
point of land. She's got
to fly high for our boys to see wherever they
may be, I promised I'd get
her up there: It's my responsibility. Her
field of blue like the skies
back home, mustn't carry any dirt, The stars
so white call a state to
mind, a state that mustn't hurt. Her blood
red stripes remind us of our
mother land before, The white bands separated
us - but that was another
Will there ever be an end, sir, are we fighting
just in vain? We always
say this is the last, then the guns sound
Will you help me make it up the hill and help
me plant her deep?"
He didn't know he couldn't walk, he couldn't
move his feet, His eyes
slowly closed and his blood ran red on the
flag he loved so well, His
shattered arm released it's hold and his hand
away from it fell.
With tears and sweat streaming down like
rivers of mud on our face, We
gently took the flag from him; we'd plant
it in his place. Amid the
shots and confusion we struggled an inch at
a time, We'd get Old Glory
on that hill, we'd make that soldier's climb.
Well, we got her there and stood her up and
braced her good and tight,
and let me tell you, one and all, she sure
was a beautiful sight. Her
fields of stripes were torn and frayed and
blood ran down her bands, But
every soldier in her sight had his helmet
in his hands.
Every time I see her waving, it's like
she is saying to me, "As long as
there are men like you, Old Glory will fly
Author Joyce Gauthier
Hello! Remember Me?
Some call me Old Glory, others call me the
Star Spangled Banner, but
whatever they call me, I am your Flag
- the Flag of the United States
of America...There has been something
that has been bothering me, so
I thought that I might talk it over
with you here today.
I remember some time ago, (I think
it was Memorial Day, or was it
Veterans' Day?) that people were lined
up on both sides of the street
for a parade. A high school band was
behind me and, naturally, I was
leading the parade. When your Daddy
saw me coming along waving in the
breeze, he immediately removed his hat
and placed it so that his right
hand was directly over his heart.
And you - I remember you.
Standing there as straight as a soldier,
you didn't have any hat, but
you were giving me the right salute.
Remember, they taught you in
school to place your right hand over
your heart, and little sister, not
to be outdone, was saluting the same
as you. There were some soldiers
home on leave and they were standing
at attention giving the military
salute. Oh, I was very proud as I came
down your street that day.
Now, I may sound as if I am a little
conceited, Well I am!
I have a right to be, because I represent
you, the people of the United
States of America.
But what happened? I am still the same
old flag. Oh, I have a couple
more stars added since you were a boy.
A lot more stars added since the
beginning of this country, and lot more
blood shed since that
patriotic day so long ago.
Now I don't feel as proud as I used
to. When I come down your street,
some people just stand there with their
hands in their pockets and give
me a small glance and then look away.
I see children running around and
shouting. They don't seem to know who
Is it a sin to be patriotic anymore?
Have some people forgotten what I
stand for? Have they forgotten all the
battlefields where men have fought
and died to keep this nation free? When
you salute me you are actually
Take a look at the memorial rolls some
time. Look at the names of those
who never came back. Some of them were
friends and relatives of yours.
That's whom you are saluting, not me!
Well, it won't be long until I'll be
coming down your street again. So,
when you see me, stand straight, place
your hand over your heart and
you'll see me waving back-- that's my
salute to you. And then I will
know you remember who I am...
Reprinted from VFW Post #1781 Fort Collins,
here to search for a missing buddy!
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