Goodbye Old Glory

By Richard Linsely (Visit Richard’s Blog)

The bodies of sixty servicemen lined up in five rows of twelve, moaned under their breaths in the early morning hours.  None of them wanted to be caught relenting to the pressure and strain their bodies had endured.  All of them were beaten, most severely malnourished.  The meals of the past 10 days could be counted on one hand, if you could call it a hand.  Covered in dirt, scratched, and misused over the past few days it wasn’t recognizable as a source of strength.  Their uniforms were ripped, soiled, and showed the abuses the soldiers and sailors put themselves through to come to this point.

Each person was locked arm in arm with their battle buddy next to them.  They were made to sit tightly one with another, their legs wrapped around the torso of the person in front of them.  They were sailors, officers, and marines.  All training for one thing, to resist the efforts of their occupiers from causing them to give up any information that could be used against their shipmates and friends in the field of battle.  This was the rite of passage, and their return home.

They had dodged the sounds of gunfire, evading pursuing enemies by going into places that “rabbits wouldn’t go.”  They were beaten to a pulp just for aiding their mates to escape, and for giving a strong shoulder to those who were broken in “interviews” with the enemy.  They endured the constant jibes of those who would have them give up their American way of life to join their “fascist” reality. And they learned the sweet meaning of “little victories.”

I was one of those 60 men.  There were three women among us, and they received far worse beatings than any of the others.  We also had five SEAL trainees among us whom we looked up to for guidance and strength.  Now we all rested until we were called upon to perform our next test.  The instructor stood before us.

“You are pigs!” he screamed.  His voice held a very thick false Slavic accent.  “I know you are!  My men, they have found the wreckage of the plane that brought you here. And we have found somet’ing of yours.”

In his hands was a battered and worn U.S Flag.  It would have been better to have disposed of the flag properly but we were to learn a lesson from her demise.

“You Americans are all lazy dogs!  You are pompous, and have no clue of the heritage you have.” He continued.  “You and your people were born in war and war is all you know.  Now you bring war to my people!  Have you no ethics?  Have you no morals?  I bet you do not know what your flag stands for.  You tell me, what does this red stripe stand for?”  His hands moved quickly and the tearing sound of the material still rings in my ears.

“Blood!”  A small voice in the back barely lifted itself.

“What?  You need mud?  I give you mud!  Lazy dog!” came the reply. “No.  Red is for the blood that was spilled by our patriots that set us free.” The voice was feeble, but stronger now.

“Okay you know that.  What is this white?”  The first red stripe went into a steel trash can.

“Purity in cause and in action.” I found my voice to be just as shaky as the first person’s voice was.

“Hmm loyalty, I don’t think so.  One thing I can say, you Americans are not loyal.  My family, we are loyal. Not you.”

He now held up a jar of liquid above the can and held it for us to see.

“This.  This I consider of your flag.  I consider it less than the excrement of my pets.” Dumping its contents into the trash can, it was all we could to keep some of us in our group from jumping up and killing this instructor.  If it wasn't for us being interlocked with one another, there would be one less military instructor.

“Say goodbye to your country." He continued. "As your flag burns, you will pay homage to ours and then you will be ours.” As he dropped the match into the barrel, flames licked the rim of the burn can.  All of us resigned ourselves to our fates.  We slowly stood up and lowered our heads as the national anthem of the other country began to play.  The opening notes, "Oh, say can you see," were unmistakable.  Looking up, a new ensign of the United States flew majestically on the flagpole in front of us.  The instructor stood tall and saluted the flag.  Our bodies resisted us, but all sixty of us forced ourselves through the pain to stand at attention, salute and sing the words to the anthem, breaking every rule we had been taught to abide by for the last ten days.  None of us were dry eyed when at the end of the anthem, then instructor looked at us and shouted “Welcome to the United States!”

Richard Linsley is a father of three and a husband to the most important person in his life. Currently he works for the US Navy, but puts his spare time into energies that call to him. A public speaker in Washington, DC, he is the president of the NRL Forum Toastmasters club.  His speeches provoke thought and bring people to remembrance of virtues and ethics in leadership, business, and personal life that most now take for granted. His unique experiences in the Navy, as a graduate of SERE and Naval Aircrew, show through in his works to provide new insights into old thoughts.  A US Navy Instructor Since October 2006, he has been involved with the instruction of several hundred young adults preparing for combat in the Global War on Terror. He holds an Associate of Art degree in Foreign Language studies and is currently finishing his Bachelor's degree in Humanities (Psychology/Religion) from Thomas Edison State College in Trenton, New Jersey.  He can be reached through his webpage at www.rmvisions.com/richard.html or by email at richard@rmvisions.com.

“Bah.”  The second stripe went into the trash can.

The instructor  took a razor and cut out the field of blue and white stars.  Throwing the rest of the flag into the burn can he held it up for all to see.

“What is this stars?” 

“One for each of the states of the union.” More voices raised in answer.

“Really?  You know what this blue is?”

“Loyalty of the states that bind us together!”