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Old Glory

Story ID:9811
Written by:Charles Dishno (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:Only Here
Location:Dillon Montana USA
Year:2014
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I don’t know who the author if this piece is but it was given to me by an officer from Maelstrom Air Force Base in Montana about 25 years ago. Enjoy!

OLD GLORY
Submitted by Chuck Dishno
Flag Day, June, 14th.

“I am the flag of the United States of America. My name is Old Glory. I fly atop the world’s tallest buildings. I stand watch in America’s halls of justice. I stand guard majestically over great institutions of learning.

I stand guard with the greatest military power in the world. Look up and see me. I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice. I stand for freedom. I am confident; I am arrogant; I am proud. When I am flown with my fellow banners, my head is a little higher, my colors a little truer. I bow to no one. I am recognized all over the world.

I am worshipped. I am loved and I am feared. I have fought in every battle of every war for more than 200 years: Gettysburg, Shiloh, Appomattox, San Juan Hill, the trenches of France, the Argonne Forest, Anzio, Rome, the beaches Normandy, Guam, Okinawa, Japan, Korea, Vietnam, in the Persian Gulf and a score of places long forgotten, by all but those who were there with me. I was there.

I led my Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines. I followed them and watched over them. They loved me.

I was on a small hill in Iwo Jima. I was dirty, battle-worn and tired, but my Marines and Sailors cheered me. And I was proud.

I have been soiled, burned, torn and trampled on the streets of countries that I have helped set free. It does not hurt, for I have been soiled, burned, torn and trampled on the streets of my own country. and when it is by those I have served in battle with, it hurts. But I shall overcome, for I am strong.

I have slipped the bonds of earth and from my vantage point on the moon, I stand watch over the
uncharted new frontiers of space.

I have been silent witness to all of America’s finest hours. But my finest hour comes when I am torn in strips to be used as bandages for my wounded comrades on the field of battle - when I fly at half mast to honor my Soldiers, my Airman, my Sailors, my Marines, and - when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving mother, at the graveside of her fallen son or daughter.

I am proud. My name is “Old Glory.” Long may I wave, dear God, long may I wave.”