USA - Don't Tread on Me!
The Story of Otto Erler,
WWII POW
From The American Legion Magazine,1960
Not many of us have seen the colors struck. No, not retired. Not simply lowered at the end of the day, but deliberately pulled down. World War II Marine, Otto Erler, did from his foxhole on Corregidor.
Knocked unconscious by a Japanese mortar shell, Erler came too just as Japanese troops swarmed over him. Corregidor had fallen. As Erler looked up past a Japanese bayonet, up the barrel of the weapon, and over the shoulder of his captor . . . he saw a tattered "Old Glory" coming down. In his head were the words of a poem: "A moth-eaten rag on a worm-eaten pole. It doesn't look likely to stir a man's soul . . ." But it did. Oh, how it did stir Erler's soul. In that flag he saw America folding, America coming down. And that 20-year-old Marine from Dallas, Texas cried.
Later, under guard on a dock in Manila, enroute to a prisoner of war camp, Erler snuck away into a small, empty office building on the pier, in search of - of all things - toilet paper. In rummaging through the place, he found none. But in a corner, in a dark closet, he found an American flag. It grabbed him by the throat . . . it was a piece of home. It was something he could have faith in. He didn't stop to think that prisoners were shot for less.
He snuck back into the ranks of prisoners and quickly hid the flag in his duffel bag. Transported on prisoner ships, Erler kept the flag hidden, and for the first time brought it out for a comrade's burial at sea. Done with permission from his captors, Erler's flag draped the lead-filled, canvas body bags of several who died on the trip.
When leaving the transport and heading to a more permanent camp, Erler was able to smuggle the flag off the ship. He carried it with him and kept it in his pillowcase. Eventually it was found and taken from Erler who, with the ranking American officer, bravely told the Japanese as he handed it over, "This is an American flag. We expect it to be treated with proper courtesy and to be returned when we leave."
They reluctantly agreed, but not without penalties: rations would be halved for thirty days, no cigarettes, and lights out at 9:00 p.m. In early 1944 Erler was transferred to a lead mine in Japan. As he prepared to depart, he bravely asked for the return of the Flag. It was given over to him.
At the lead mine he was allowed to keep his flag, but only for burials. For use in any other way, he would be held responsible. It found use ten times in sixteen months. Then in August of 1945, after more than three years as a POW, peace was at hand. The war was over and it was Erler's turn to strike the colors. Down came the rising sun and up went the Stars and Stripes.
Through his years as a prisoner, Erler's flag buried 25 men and raised the spirits and gave hope to thousands. That 42-star flag is still around. It resides at the Dallas Historical society. It is tattered and torn. It's one of those things best described by British General Sir Edward Bruce Hamley:
"A moth-eaten rag on a worm-eaten pole,
It doesn't look likely to stir a man's soul;
'Tis the deeds that were done 'neath the moth-eaten rag
When that pole was a staff and the rag was a Flag."
It doesn't look likely to stir a man's soul;
'Tis the deeds that were done 'neath the moth-eaten rag
When that pole was a staff and the rag was a Flag."
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The Story of Mike Christian,Vietnam POW
The American Flag symbolizes the hope and inspiration that is the
essence of everyone and everything in the US. There is another story
that epitomizes the emotion and pride every American feels for the
flag, and underscores the importance of the Pledge of Allegiance.
The Vietnam War . . . 1971, prisoners of war were moved from isolation into large rooms at the Hanoi Hilton. One of those prisoners was Mike Christian. Mike came from a small town near Selma, Alabama. He didn't wear a pair of shoes until he was thirteen. At seventeen he enlisted in the Navy, later to earn a commission and become a Naval flying officer, and was shot down and captured in 1967.
The uniforms the Americans wore were the Vietnamese pajamas, only they were blue, and rubber sandals made of automobile tires.
Mike contrived a bamboo needle for himself and collecting some cloth of red and white, he sewed an American Flag on the inside of his shirt. And it was the practice of the prisoners that every afternoon before they got their ration of soup, they would hang Mike's shirt on the wall and recite the Pledge of Allegiance. Now, repeating the Pledge of Allegiance may not be the most important part of the average American day, but for those men in that stark prison cell, it was the most important and meaningful event of their day.
One day, the Vietnamese searched the cell and discovered Mike's shirt with the flag sewn inside, removed it and him, and for the "benefit" of the other prisoners beat Mike Christian severely for the next couple hours.
Then they opened the door and threw him back inside. Mike was not in good shape and the others tried to comfort and take care of him as best they could.
The cell had a concrete slab on which the men slept and a naked light bulb in each corner of the room. After things had quieted down for the evening, in the corner of the room, sitting beneath that dimly lit bulb with a piece of white cloth, a piece of red cloth, another blue shirt and his bamboo needle, was Mike Christian. His eyes almost swollen shut from the beating, he was fashioning another American flag.
Mike Christian was not making that flag because it made him feel better. He was making that flag because he knew how important it was for his fellow prisoners to be able to pledge allegiance to our Flag and to our country.
For Mike Christian, maintaining that Flag was the right thing to do.
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In a letter to MG Patrick H. Brady, Col. Day recounted his personal recollections of Mike Christian, POW. The letter was entered in testimony on the flag protection constitutional amendment before the US Senate Judiciary Committee.
Dear Pat:
No one loves liberty more than those who lose it . . . and lose if for a long time. I was shot down on August 26,1967 . . . captured, escaped, and was recaptured some two weeks later. I spent 38 months of my 67 months in solitary . . . where I had the time to sort out what is important, and what is not. I started my daily regimen by first saying the pledge of allegiance to the flag, then reciting the lord's prayer, and then praying for my family.
The reason for doing it in that order was that I knew above all other things that my country would never desert me . . . and it was of utmost importance that I not desert my flag! She was my link to civilization.
When we were moved into joint living with about 40 other people, I was the commander. I ordered my troops to face to the East every afternoon to say the pledge of allegiance. This motivated one of my junior officers (Mike Christian) to craft a homemade flag from scraps. He sewed it inside of his shirt, and at pledge time, he would turn the shirt wrongside out, hang it on a line . . . and we would say the pledge and render a hand salute. It was the best time of every day.
At one of the shakedown inspections, the commies found the flag. They brutally dragged Mike out and we could hear them beating him for hours. He came back that nite with broken ribs, and his face battered. They broke his ribs . . . but not his spirit. A few days passed and Mike approached me. He said: "Major, they got the flag . . . but they didn't get the needle I made it with. If you agree . . . I'm making another flag!"
My answer was, "Do it!"
It was several weeks before we had another homemade flag, but he finished it.
There was never a day from that day forward that the Stars and Stripes did not fly in my room, with 40 American pilots proudly saluting! What we guaranteed to 40 American prisoners should be the minimum guarantee for the entire United States.
God bless U, and God bless your efforts.
Col. Bud Day MOH-AFC
POW 1967-1973
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Fifty years ago, American soldiers saved me from the hell of Dachau. They nursed me back to health and restored my will to live. Yet, what I remember most of my liberation is my tears being spilled on a small American flag. From that day to this, my love for our flag has never faltered.
My story begins in 1940. When I was nine years old, the Germans took me from my home in Krasnik, Poland. For five years I was a prisoner of the Nazis in 10 death camps, where I saw thousands of men, women and children brutally murdered and starved or worked to death by the Nazi's death machine.
I lived on breadcrumbs, sawdust, human remains and one small prayer for redemption or death, whichever was quicker.
My prayers were answered on April 29, 1945, when the 42nd and 45th Infantry Divisions of the U.S. 7th Army liberated me from Dachau. We were nursed for several days by these war-weary, but compassionate men and women until we had enough strength to travel to Munich for additional medical attention.
As we walked ever so slowly and unsteadily toward our salvation, a young American tank commander -- whose name I have never known -- jumped off his tank to help us in whatever way he could.
When he saw that I was just a young boy, despite my gaunt appearance, he stopped to offer me comfort and compassion. He gave me his own food. He touched my withered body with his hands and his heart. His love instilled in me a will to live, and I fell at his feet and shed my first tears in five years.
He kneeled by my side and gently wiped them away with his handkerchief. It was only later, after he had gone, that I realized that his handkerchief was a small American flag, the first I had ever seen. It became my flag of redemption and freedom.
For more than 50 years I have cherished that flag. It represents the hope, freedom and life that the American soldiers returned to me when they found me, nursed me to health, and restored my faith in mankind. That is why today, I am working to help pass an amendment to the Constitution to protect our flag from physical desecration.
The memories of those heroes who liberated me will forever be a part of me. I show my gratitude to them for delivering me from hell every time I salute the flag that was theirs, and today is mine.
Even now, 50 years later, I am overcome with tears and gratitude whenever I see our glorious American flag because I know what it represents not only to me, but to millions around the world.
Perhaps only those who have had their humanity brutally torn from them as I did can fully appreciate this great country and what its flag represents. Yet every American, out of deference for the sacrifices that purchased and maintain their freedom, should revere and honor our flag.
Protest if you wish. Speak loudly, even curse our country and our flag, but, please, in the name of all those who died for our freedoms, don't physically harm what is so sacred to me and to countless others.
When you harm our flag, you violate my freedom to protect what once protected me, liberated me, restored my human dignity, and wiped away my tears. The price of desecration is too high; I support a constitutional amendment to preserve America's dignity, America's values, and America's flag. God bless America, and God bless our flag.
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Hats off to the Vermont Senate for its action last week passing the resolution against desecration of the American flag. This is the second year in a row that the Senate has struggled with this painful and complicated issue. This year, the Senate got it right.
Until recently, I served in the Vermont Senate, and when the Senate debated the flag resolution last year, I was among the majority who opposed the resolution. I was wrong.
I was wrong because I thought that this issue, like so many others in the Statehouse, was a problem to be solved through study and analysis. It's not. It's a matter of the heart.
I didn't grasp this until a quiet afternoon in Belvedere last August during my campaign for the United States Congress. After marching in a small community parade, I stayed around for the dedication of a memorial honoring verterans of military service. As individual veterans (and their children) stood to be recognized for their service and sacrifice, I fought back tears. My heart literally ached.
Maybe it was the isolation and the exhaustion of a statewide candidacy that broke my defenses, that allowed feelings to get past my head and into my heart. Whatever it was, I couldn't stop thinking about my father, himself a veteran of military service, long since passed away.
My father had fought at Verdun in 1918. There, amid terrible carnage - and great courage - he was shot and gassed. But he survived.
Dad never talked much about fighting in France. He never made a big thing out of patriotism or the flag - we didn't even have a flagpole at home. But I noticed as a kid that he always held his hat (he always wore a hat) over his heart when the flag passed by at the parade. And, I knew by his silence, that fighting under his country's flag on those killing fields in France had changed his life forever.
Thirty years ago, when Dad died, the American flag draped his coffin. The flag had been placed there by men of the local American Legion. These were men that he and us had not known especially well. But in the end, they were his brothers-in-arms. At his graveside, these men that we hardly knew resolutely folded Dad's flag and, without a word, they handed the flag gently to my mother.
Back at the family place after the service, all the friends and family had headed home - except me, the last to leave. In the fading light of sunset, Mum and I sat alone, together in silence, exhausted, out of words. Dad's flag tightly folded in a tri-cornered bundle, rested on the table by his empty chair. I reached out for it. The flag was firm and soft, like a swaddled newborn. I held it in my arms until the house was dark.
Leaving my mother alone with her grief in that empty house, I hated to say goodbye. Halfway to Boston, I turned the car around, found a lumberyard open late, bought a 12-foot pole and some hardware, and headed north back to my parent's home.
Arriving there, I pulled the car onto the sloping lawn so that its headlights shone on the front of the clapboard cape. Without explanation, I got the ladder and my tools and built a flagpole out over the front door. By midnight, it was finished, painted white, ready.
Early the next morning, I unfurled Dad's flag, hung it on the new flagpole, and said goodbye to Mum. Turning to wave as I drove away, I saw Dad's flag flutter gently in the morning light. I knew right then that this flag and pole were my statement to the world of my dad's sacrifice, his gift to all of us. I was in tears, but I felt a lot better.
A year ago when I voted in the Senate, I thought of my father's flag, but I had lost touch with what it meant in my heart. But not until that quiet August afternoon in Belvedere, among veterans of other wars, did I fully understand that the flag issue is - and should be - about what we feel, not about what we think.
I've listened closely to all the rational arguments about freedom of speech, symbols versus reality, and what Madison really meant in the Federalist Papers. In fact, I've even made some of these arguments myself! All very interesting, but they miss the point.
The point is, this is the American flag, and it's the only flag we've got. This flag stands for everything that is good about this country. Trampling and burning the flag is not a political protest: it is, in fact, a frontal assault upon the values and feelings of the women and men who helped to build and protect what's best about this country. The American flag deserves special recognition and protection, even if five people on the Supreme Court don't think so.
Vermont's Senate did the right thing, last week, by passing a resolution to protect the flag. By contrast, Vermont's House of Representatives has rejected the resolution. Now it's time for the House to listen to its heart and to join the Senate in saying that values matter. Respect matters. The flag matters.
John Carroll is the former majority leader of the Vermont Senate and the 1994 Republican candidate for the U.S. House of Representatives.
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Mr. Chairman members of the committee thank you for the opportunity to appear before you today to tell the story about a close personal friend, a WWII Veteran who volunteered for service, and did his duty during WWII. I feel that by sharing his experience with you it will serve to emphasize what the flag means to most Americans especially those veterans who have fought and died to protect it.
Let me tell you about Jose Quintero. He was born in Corpus Christi Texas and moved to Albuquerque, NM where he currently resides. Jose like many other New Mexicans from the 200th and 5l5th Coastal Artillery Regiments of the New Mexico National Guard were among those who defended Bataan and Corregidor during WWII. They were attacked on December 8, by a far superior force of the 14th Japanese army. They courageously defended themselves as they slowly withdrew from the enemy advance towards Corregidor and Bataan. Promised reinforcements and supplies, which they never received, they nevertheless held the Japanese up for five long months, completely upsetting the Japanese timetable of conquest. They were finally defeated by disease, hunger, and lack of ammunition on May of 1942, having bought time for the United States to regroup for an offensive war to reconquer the Pacific.
Perhaps you already know this little history lesson. However, I'd like you to take a moment to truly imagine the fear, the exhaustion, the jungle heat, and hopelessness of their situation. My friend Jose experienced this hardship and sacrifice. And he did it with one thought in mind - to do his duty, to serve with honor, to fight for the country that he loved. This isn't just some musty old war story. It was real, and remains so to this day for Jose and his comrades. You see, loyalty and patriotism are especially strong traits of these veterans.
These men fought with courage. They went beyond courage to bravery in the face of a superior force. Courage is an admirable quality. A courageous person is able to look at adversity and to face it squarely. The courageous are full of heart. The brave take it one step further and act despite overwhelming odds in an act of self sacrifice. The brave place others before themselves. Their act is one of love and generosity.
Jose Quintera was courageous during the battle for the Philippines. He proudly did his best and honored the fighting tradition of his unit. It was in the Camps that he went beyond courage. Jose so loved his country, that he looked for a way to express that love. He wanted to honor his friends and to make a symbol for himself to prove that he had not been "broken" in spirit. Most of all he wanted to honor what he calls "The real heroes of the war," those who made the ultimate sacrifice, those dying all around him. He began a project which would have meant a torturous death to him had he been caught.
He began to scrounge material in the form of a red blanket, and white bed sheets stolen from the Japanese Guards. The blue background came from Filipino dungarees. Aided by a Canadian soldier, a double amputee who worked in the tailor shop, he began to fashion these into an American flag. At that time Jose did not even know how many states were in the Union. He had to ask an officer to tell him the significance of the thirteen stripes and the forty-eight stars in the design. The staff was made from a Japanese prod used to discipline the prisoners. The tassels were added later and made from the parachute cord from chutes used to drop supplies into the camp after the war. This flag took him over one year to complete. He wrapped it in a piece of canvas and kept it buried in the dirt under his bunk.
Close to the end of the war they heard American bombers approaching the unmarked POW camp. Jose took his flag out in the open and waved it at the incoming aircraft. The pilot in the lead plane saw him, tipped his wing in acknowledgment, and flew past the camp. Jose risked his life to save the lives of his fellow prisoners.
Mr. Chairman, members of the committee, Mr. Qunitero is what peace and freedom are all about. Heroes like him and those here at my side are what have made this country great and what makes me so proud to be an American. I'm sorry that Jose could not be here today to tell you, in his own words, what the flag means to him and his fellow veterans.
Thank you and may God Bless America
The Vietnam War . . . 1971, prisoners of war were moved from isolation into large rooms at the Hanoi Hilton. One of those prisoners was Mike Christian. Mike came from a small town near Selma, Alabama. He didn't wear a pair of shoes until he was thirteen. At seventeen he enlisted in the Navy, later to earn a commission and become a Naval flying officer, and was shot down and captured in 1967.
The uniforms the Americans wore were the Vietnamese pajamas, only they were blue, and rubber sandals made of automobile tires.
Mike contrived a bamboo needle for himself and collecting some cloth of red and white, he sewed an American Flag on the inside of his shirt. And it was the practice of the prisoners that every afternoon before they got their ration of soup, they would hang Mike's shirt on the wall and recite the Pledge of Allegiance. Now, repeating the Pledge of Allegiance may not be the most important part of the average American day, but for those men in that stark prison cell, it was the most important and meaningful event of their day.
One day, the Vietnamese searched the cell and discovered Mike's shirt with the flag sewn inside, removed it and him, and for the "benefit" of the other prisoners beat Mike Christian severely for the next couple hours.
Then they opened the door and threw him back inside. Mike was not in good shape and the others tried to comfort and take care of him as best they could.
The cell had a concrete slab on which the men slept and a naked light bulb in each corner of the room. After things had quieted down for the evening, in the corner of the room, sitting beneath that dimly lit bulb with a piece of white cloth, a piece of red cloth, another blue shirt and his bamboo needle, was Mike Christian. His eyes almost swollen shut from the beating, he was fashioning another American flag.
Mike Christian was not making that flag because it made him feel better. He was making that flag because he knew how important it was for his fellow prisoners to be able to pledge allegiance to our Flag and to our country.
For Mike Christian, maintaining that Flag was the right thing to do.
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First Person Account of the Story of Mike Christian
By Col.Bud Day
Medal Honor Recipient
POW 1967-1973
Medal Honor Recipient
POW 1967-1973
In a letter to MG Patrick H. Brady, Col. Day recounted his personal recollections of Mike Christian, POW. The letter was entered in testimony on the flag protection constitutional amendment before the US Senate Judiciary Committee.
Dear Pat:
No one loves liberty more than those who lose it . . . and lose if for a long time. I was shot down on August 26,1967 . . . captured, escaped, and was recaptured some two weeks later. I spent 38 months of my 67 months in solitary . . . where I had the time to sort out what is important, and what is not. I started my daily regimen by first saying the pledge of allegiance to the flag, then reciting the lord's prayer, and then praying for my family.
The reason for doing it in that order was that I knew above all other things that my country would never desert me . . . and it was of utmost importance that I not desert my flag! She was my link to civilization.
When we were moved into joint living with about 40 other people, I was the commander. I ordered my troops to face to the East every afternoon to say the pledge of allegiance. This motivated one of my junior officers (Mike Christian) to craft a homemade flag from scraps. He sewed it inside of his shirt, and at pledge time, he would turn the shirt wrongside out, hang it on a line . . . and we would say the pledge and render a hand salute. It was the best time of every day.
At one of the shakedown inspections, the commies found the flag. They brutally dragged Mike out and we could hear them beating him for hours. He came back that nite with broken ribs, and his face battered. They broke his ribs . . . but not his spirit. A few days passed and Mike approached me. He said: "Major, they got the flag . . . but they didn't get the needle I made it with. If you agree . . . I'm making another flag!"
My answer was, "Do it!"
It was several weeks before we had another homemade flag, but he finished it.
There was never a day from that day forward that the Stars and Stripes did not fly in my room, with 40 American pilots proudly saluting! What we guaranteed to 40 American prisoners should be the minimum guarantee for the entire United States.
God bless U, and God bless your efforts.
Col. Bud Day MOH-AFC
POW 1967-1973
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Protect the Flag That Protected Me
By Stephen Ross
Fifty years ago, American soldiers saved me from the hell of Dachau. They nursed me back to health and restored my will to live. Yet, what I remember most of my liberation is my tears being spilled on a small American flag. From that day to this, my love for our flag has never faltered.
My story begins in 1940. When I was nine years old, the Germans took me from my home in Krasnik, Poland. For five years I was a prisoner of the Nazis in 10 death camps, where I saw thousands of men, women and children brutally murdered and starved or worked to death by the Nazi's death machine.
I lived on breadcrumbs, sawdust, human remains and one small prayer for redemption or death, whichever was quicker.
My prayers were answered on April 29, 1945, when the 42nd and 45th Infantry Divisions of the U.S. 7th Army liberated me from Dachau. We were nursed for several days by these war-weary, but compassionate men and women until we had enough strength to travel to Munich for additional medical attention.
As we walked ever so slowly and unsteadily toward our salvation, a young American tank commander -- whose name I have never known -- jumped off his tank to help us in whatever way he could.
When he saw that I was just a young boy, despite my gaunt appearance, he stopped to offer me comfort and compassion. He gave me his own food. He touched my withered body with his hands and his heart. His love instilled in me a will to live, and I fell at his feet and shed my first tears in five years.
He kneeled by my side and gently wiped them away with his handkerchief. It was only later, after he had gone, that I realized that his handkerchief was a small American flag, the first I had ever seen. It became my flag of redemption and freedom.
For more than 50 years I have cherished that flag. It represents the hope, freedom and life that the American soldiers returned to me when they found me, nursed me to health, and restored my faith in mankind. That is why today, I am working to help pass an amendment to the Constitution to protect our flag from physical desecration.
The memories of those heroes who liberated me will forever be a part of me. I show my gratitude to them for delivering me from hell every time I salute the flag that was theirs, and today is mine.
Even now, 50 years later, I am overcome with tears and gratitude whenever I see our glorious American flag because I know what it represents not only to me, but to millions around the world.
Perhaps only those who have had their humanity brutally torn from them as I did can fully appreciate this great country and what its flag represents. Yet every American, out of deference for the sacrifices that purchased and maintain their freedom, should revere and honor our flag.
Protest if you wish. Speak loudly, even curse our country and our flag, but, please, in the name of all those who died for our freedoms, don't physically harm what is so sacred to me and to countless others.
When you harm our flag, you violate my freedom to protect what once protected me, liberated me, restored my human dignity, and wiped away my tears. The price of desecration is too high; I support a constitutional amendment to preserve America's dignity, America's values, and America's flag. God bless America, and God bless our flag.
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The American Flag Matters
By John Carroll
From The Caledonian-Record (Vt.)
February 1995
From The Caledonian-Record (Vt.)
February 1995
Hats off to the Vermont Senate for its action last week passing the resolution against desecration of the American flag. This is the second year in a row that the Senate has struggled with this painful and complicated issue. This year, the Senate got it right.
Until recently, I served in the Vermont Senate, and when the Senate debated the flag resolution last year, I was among the majority who opposed the resolution. I was wrong.
I was wrong because I thought that this issue, like so many others in the Statehouse, was a problem to be solved through study and analysis. It's not. It's a matter of the heart.
I didn't grasp this until a quiet afternoon in Belvedere last August during my campaign for the United States Congress. After marching in a small community parade, I stayed around for the dedication of a memorial honoring verterans of military service. As individual veterans (and their children) stood to be recognized for their service and sacrifice, I fought back tears. My heart literally ached.
Maybe it was the isolation and the exhaustion of a statewide candidacy that broke my defenses, that allowed feelings to get past my head and into my heart. Whatever it was, I couldn't stop thinking about my father, himself a veteran of military service, long since passed away.
My father had fought at Verdun in 1918. There, amid terrible carnage - and great courage - he was shot and gassed. But he survived.
Dad never talked much about fighting in France. He never made a big thing out of patriotism or the flag - we didn't even have a flagpole at home. But I noticed as a kid that he always held his hat (he always wore a hat) over his heart when the flag passed by at the parade. And, I knew by his silence, that fighting under his country's flag on those killing fields in France had changed his life forever.
Thirty years ago, when Dad died, the American flag draped his coffin. The flag had been placed there by men of the local American Legion. These were men that he and us had not known especially well. But in the end, they were his brothers-in-arms. At his graveside, these men that we hardly knew resolutely folded Dad's flag and, without a word, they handed the flag gently to my mother.
Back at the family place after the service, all the friends and family had headed home - except me, the last to leave. In the fading light of sunset, Mum and I sat alone, together in silence, exhausted, out of words. Dad's flag tightly folded in a tri-cornered bundle, rested on the table by his empty chair. I reached out for it. The flag was firm and soft, like a swaddled newborn. I held it in my arms until the house was dark.
Leaving my mother alone with her grief in that empty house, I hated to say goodbye. Halfway to Boston, I turned the car around, found a lumberyard open late, bought a 12-foot pole and some hardware, and headed north back to my parent's home.
Arriving there, I pulled the car onto the sloping lawn so that its headlights shone on the front of the clapboard cape. Without explanation, I got the ladder and my tools and built a flagpole out over the front door. By midnight, it was finished, painted white, ready.
Early the next morning, I unfurled Dad's flag, hung it on the new flagpole, and said goodbye to Mum. Turning to wave as I drove away, I saw Dad's flag flutter gently in the morning light. I knew right then that this flag and pole were my statement to the world of my dad's sacrifice, his gift to all of us. I was in tears, but I felt a lot better.
A year ago when I voted in the Senate, I thought of my father's flag, but I had lost touch with what it meant in my heart. But not until that quiet August afternoon in Belvedere, among veterans of other wars, did I fully understand that the flag issue is - and should be - about what we feel, not about what we think.
I've listened closely to all the rational arguments about freedom of speech, symbols versus reality, and what Madison really meant in the Federalist Papers. In fact, I've even made some of these arguments myself! All very interesting, but they miss the point.
The point is, this is the American flag, and it's the only flag we've got. This flag stands for everything that is good about this country. Trampling and burning the flag is not a political protest: it is, in fact, a frontal assault upon the values and feelings of the women and men who helped to build and protect what's best about this country. The American flag deserves special recognition and protection, even if five people on the Supreme Court don't think so.
Vermont's Senate did the right thing, last week, by passing a resolution to protect the flag. By contrast, Vermont's House of Representatives has rejected the resolution. Now it's time for the House to listen to its heart and to join the Senate in saying that values matter. Respect matters. The flag matters.
John Carroll is the former majority leader of the Vermont Senate and the 1994 Republican candidate for the U.S. House of Representatives.
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Jose Quintero
By Ed Baca, in testimony to the
US Senate Judiciary
US Senate Judiciary
Mr. Chairman members of the committee thank you for the opportunity to appear before you today to tell the story about a close personal friend, a WWII Veteran who volunteered for service, and did his duty during WWII. I feel that by sharing his experience with you it will serve to emphasize what the flag means to most Americans especially those veterans who have fought and died to protect it.
Let me tell you about Jose Quintero. He was born in Corpus Christi Texas and moved to Albuquerque, NM where he currently resides. Jose like many other New Mexicans from the 200th and 5l5th Coastal Artillery Regiments of the New Mexico National Guard were among those who defended Bataan and Corregidor during WWII. They were attacked on December 8, by a far superior force of the 14th Japanese army. They courageously defended themselves as they slowly withdrew from the enemy advance towards Corregidor and Bataan. Promised reinforcements and supplies, which they never received, they nevertheless held the Japanese up for five long months, completely upsetting the Japanese timetable of conquest. They were finally defeated by disease, hunger, and lack of ammunition on May of 1942, having bought time for the United States to regroup for an offensive war to reconquer the Pacific.
Perhaps you already know this little history lesson. However, I'd like you to take a moment to truly imagine the fear, the exhaustion, the jungle heat, and hopelessness of their situation. My friend Jose experienced this hardship and sacrifice. And he did it with one thought in mind - to do his duty, to serve with honor, to fight for the country that he loved. This isn't just some musty old war story. It was real, and remains so to this day for Jose and his comrades. You see, loyalty and patriotism are especially strong traits of these veterans.
These men fought with courage. They went beyond courage to bravery in the face of a superior force. Courage is an admirable quality. A courageous person is able to look at adversity and to face it squarely. The courageous are full of heart. The brave take it one step further and act despite overwhelming odds in an act of self sacrifice. The brave place others before themselves. Their act is one of love and generosity.
Jose Quintera was courageous during the battle for the Philippines. He proudly did his best and honored the fighting tradition of his unit. It was in the Camps that he went beyond courage. Jose so loved his country, that he looked for a way to express that love. He wanted to honor his friends and to make a symbol for himself to prove that he had not been "broken" in spirit. Most of all he wanted to honor what he calls "The real heroes of the war," those who made the ultimate sacrifice, those dying all around him. He began a project which would have meant a torturous death to him had he been caught.
He began to scrounge material in the form of a red blanket, and white bed sheets stolen from the Japanese Guards. The blue background came from Filipino dungarees. Aided by a Canadian soldier, a double amputee who worked in the tailor shop, he began to fashion these into an American flag. At that time Jose did not even know how many states were in the Union. He had to ask an officer to tell him the significance of the thirteen stripes and the forty-eight stars in the design. The staff was made from a Japanese prod used to discipline the prisoners. The tassels were added later and made from the parachute cord from chutes used to drop supplies into the camp after the war. This flag took him over one year to complete. He wrapped it in a piece of canvas and kept it buried in the dirt under his bunk.
Close to the end of the war they heard American bombers approaching the unmarked POW camp. Jose took his flag out in the open and waved it at the incoming aircraft. The pilot in the lead plane saw him, tipped his wing in acknowledgment, and flew past the camp. Jose risked his life to save the lives of his fellow prisoners.
Mr. Chairman, members of the committee, Mr. Qunitero is what peace and freedom are all about. Heroes like him and those here at my side are what have made this country great and what makes me so proud to be an American. I'm sorry that Jose could not be here today to tell you, in his own words, what the flag means to him and his fellow veterans.
Thank you and may God Bless America
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Was the store obnoxious to fly the Mexican flag above the Stars and Stripes? Absolutely. But it was not a crime. Theft and vandalism are.
There are legal and constitutional ways to fight legal-yet-objectionable speech: with more speech, with boycotts and protests. But Jim, the veteran, instead to trample all over the First Amendment right of self-expression.
I understand his motives, but condemn his actions. Committing crimes against people with whom we disagree is un-American.
WRONG! It is a crime. I can tell you this, they are "lucky" that man did what he did and walked away. A lot of vets with high PTSD would have done a lot worse. You apparently have no idea what the Flag means to some, do ya?
He is over 21 and understands consequences.. so weren't our fore fathers - back in the days of our Revolution, you think they would have walked away?
In your dreams.
The Vietnam War . . . 1971, prisoners of war were moved from isolation into large rooms at the Hanoi Hilton. One of those prisoners was Mike Christian. Mike came from a small town near Selma, Alabama. He didn't wear a pair of shoes until he was thirteen. At seventeen he enlisted in the Navy, later to earn a commission and become a Naval flying officer, and was shot down and captured in 1967.
The uniforms the Americans wore were the Vietnamese pajamas, only they were blue, and rubber sandals made of automobile tires.
Mike contrived a bamboo needle for himself and collecting some cloth of red and white, he sewed an American Flag on the inside of his shirt. And it was the practice of the prisoners that every afternoon before they got their ration of soup, they would hang Mike's shirt on the wall and recite the Pledge of Allegiance. Now, repeating the Pledge of Allegiance may not be the most important part of the average American day, but for those men in that stark prison cell, it was the most important and meaningful event of their day.
One day, the Vietnamese searched the cell and discovered Mike's shirt with the flag sewn inside, removed it and him, and for the "benefit" of the other prisoners beat Mike Christian severely for the next couple hours.
Then they opened the door and threw him back inside. Mike was not in good shape and the others tried to comfort and take care of him as best they could.
The cell had a concrete slab on which the men slept and a naked light bulb in each corner of the room. After things had quieted down for the evening, in the corner of the room, sitting beneath that dimly lit bulb with a piece of white cloth, a piece of red cloth, another blue shirt and his bamboo needle, was Mike Christian. His eyes almost swollen shut from the beating, he was fashioning another American flag.
Mike Christian was not making that flag because it made him feel better. He was making that flag because he knew how important it was for his fellow prisoners to be able to pledge allegiance to our Flag and to our country.
For Mike Christian, maintaining that Flag was the right thing to do.
US Senate Judiciary
Mr. Chairman members of the committee thank you for the opportunity to appear before you today to tell the story about a close personal friend, a WWII Veteran who volunteered for service, and did his duty during WWII. I feel that by sharing his experience with you it will serve to emphasize what the flag means to most Americans especially those veterans who have fought and died to protect it.
Let me tell you about Jose Quintero. He was born in Corpus Christi Texas and moved to Albuquerque, NM where he currently resides. Jose like many other New Mexicans from the 200th and 5l5th Coastal Artillery Regiments of the New Mexico National Guard were among those who defended Bataan and Corregidor during WWII. They were attacked on December 8, by a far superior force of the 14th Japanese army. They courageously defended themselves as they slowly withdrew from the enemy advance towards Corregidor and Bataan. Promised reinforcements and supplies, which they never received, they nevertheless held the Japanese up for five long months, completely upsetting the Japanese timetable of conquest. They were finally defeated by disease, hunger, and lack of ammunition on May of 1942, having bought time for the United States to regroup for an offensive war to reconquer the Pacific.
Perhaps you already know this little history lesson. However, I'd like you to take a moment to truly imagine the fear, the exhaustion, the jungle heat, and hopelessness of their situation. My friend Jose experienced this hardship and sacrifice. And he did it with one thought in mind - to do his duty, to serve with honor, to fight for the country that he loved. This isn't just some musty old war story. It was real, and remains so to this day for Jose and his comrades. You see, loyalty and patriotism are especially strong traits of these veterans.
These men fought with courage. They went beyond courage to bravery in the face of a superior force. Courage is an admirable quality. A courageous person is able to look at adversity and to face it squarely. The courageous are full of heart. The brave take it one step further and act despite overwhelming odds in an act of self sacrifice. The brave place others before themselves. Their act is one of love and generosity.
Jose Quintera was courageous during the battle for the Philippines. He proudly did his best and honored the fighting tradition of his unit. It was in the Camps that he went beyond courage. Jose so loved his country, that he looked for a way to express that love. He wanted to honor his friends and to make a symbol for himself to prove that he had not been "broken" in spirit. Most of all he wanted to honor what he calls "The real heroes of the war," those who made the ultimate sacrifice, those dying all around him. He began a project which would have meant a torturous death to him had he been caught.
He began to scrounge material in the form of a red blanket, and white bed sheets stolen from the Japanese Guards. The blue background came from Filipino dungarees. Aided by a Canadian soldier, a double amputee who worked in the tailor shop, he began to fashion these into an American flag. At that time Jose did not even know how many states were in the Union. He had to ask an officer to tell him the significance of the thirteen stripes and the forty-eight stars in the design. The staff was made from a Japanese prod used to discipline the prisoners. The tassels were added later and made from the parachute cord from chutes used to drop supplies into the camp after the war. This flag took him over one year to complete. He wrapped it in a piece of canvas and kept it buried in the dirt under his bunk.
Close to the end of the war they heard American bombers approaching the unmarked POW camp. Jose took his flag out in the open and waved it at the incoming aircraft. The pilot in the lead plane saw him, tipped his wing in acknowledgment, and flew past the camp. Jose risked his life to save the lives of his fellow prisoners.
Mr. Chairman, members of the committee, Mr. Qunitero is what peace and freedom are all about. Heroes like him and those here at my side are what have made this country great and what makes me so proud to be an American. I'm sorry that Jose could not be here today to tell you, in his own words, what the flag means to him and his fellow veterans.
Thank you and may God Bless America
Wow
we think we located who and from where and may publish his snail addy so those who want can send him a Thank You card.
If it's who we feel it is he was Special Forces during the Vietnam War.
Best
Amazing collection of history Gentlemen.
WELL DONE!!!!
Semper Fidelis
et
Semper Gratus
of States
The Flag Code sets out rules for position and manner of display of the flag in
4 U.S.C. § 7. The question as to the propriety of flying the flag of another nation at
an equal level with that of the flag of the U.S. is not clear from the face of the statute.
Section 7 contains two subsections on point and these provisions appear to be
contradictory. Subsection 7(c) states:
(c) No other flag or pennant should be placed above or, if on the same
level, to the right of the flag of the United States of America, except
during church services conducted by naval chaplains at sea, when the
church pennant may be flown above the flag during church services
for the personnel of the Navy. No person shall display the flag of the
United Nations or any other national or international flag equal,
above, or in a position of superior prominence or honor to or in place
of the flag of the United States or any Territory or possession thereof:
Provided, That nothing in this section shall make unlawful the
continuance of the practice heretofore followed of displaying the flag
of the United Nations in a position of superior prominence or honor,
and other national flags in positions of equal prominence or honor,
with that of the flag of the United States at the headquarters of the
United Nations.
Subsection 7(g) states:
(g) When flags of two or more nations are displayed, theyare to be flown
from separate staffs of the same height. The flags should be of
approximately equal size. International usage forbids the display of
the flag of one nation above that of another nation in time of peace.
41
The wording of § 7(g) is identical to that of the original Flag Code enacted in 1942.42 The second sentence of § 7(c) prohibiting flying international flags equal in height to the flag of the United States was not in the original Flag Code. This provision was added in 1953.
43
The legislative history of this amendment clearly states that is purpose was to “make it an offense against the United States to display the flag of the United Nations or any other national or international flag equal to, above, or in a position of superior prominence or honor to, or in place of, the flag of the United States at any place within the United States or any possession or territory thereof,....”
44
The only exception recognized is at the headquarters of the United
Nations.
Well done. You've made this absolutely clear for us all to know and remember to inforce when the occasion arises.
Do you know the location for the Veteran who did the honorable act of removing the American flag from the unlawful act of the lawbreaker?
My neighbor was a POW in the Korean War at the grand old age of 17. He lied about his age when he enlisted. The flag is a precious symbol to him.
From many of the comments I've read about this event in other places, too many people do not know that another country''s flag should never be flown above the US flag.
They seem to have completely missed the point of Otto Erler's actions.