I've seen flags waving proudly in parades and being carried by Honor Guards. I've seen children waving the flag on the 4th of July and being saluted by Boy Scouts and Veterans. But the flag I'll always remember wasn't being cheered for or saluted. It wasn't being burned by American-haters on the evening news or the smoking flaming focal point of a college protest. The flag I will always remember was still and quiet. I didn't have to raise my eyes to see it flying atop a high flagpole; in fact, I had to bow my head to see it. This flag covered the body of a soldier; a solider that had paid the ultimate price for freedom just a few hours earlier.
In the dark night of Iraq, behind a battalion aid station, in a dimly lit tent, the American flag lay draped over one of her sons. Even though it wasn't flying proudly against a light blue sky, its colors were brilliant. The blue was deep, rich and dark, and looked black in some places under the dim fluorescent light. The stripes and stars where pure and white without a smudge or imperfection. The red stripes were the color of blood … the blood that stained the front of my uniform. The blood of the warrior that lay under that flag.
That night, I saw firsthand what those stripes represent. I saw the American flag with more respect and more honor. I had forgotten how beautiful it was. Maybe it was because everything there was brown or tan or camouflage, so devoid of color. Maybe it was the fluorescent light hanging from the tent above the fallen soldier. Maybe it was because we were not allowed fly the flag there. But that flag’s colors were beautiful as it laid over this soldier, still and quiet, with silent honor.
Who most appreciates the flag? Is it the soldier who wears it on his sleeve and salutes it as it is retired for the evening? Is it the fallen comrade that has it draped over his casket for his last trip home? I'm not sure. But I do know that I'll never forget that solider and his flag. And when I see the flag flying at a school, in a parade, in front of my home or being saluted by proud Americans citizens, I'll remember when each of my fallen comrades went home with their own flag.
(In silent memory of Sgt Keiser)
Spc Adam B. Christensen
No comments:
Post a Comment