Flag Day

Yesterday I finished reading Faith of My Fathers, by Senator John McCain. (The book was on the “last chance” table at my favorite bookstore, and being a voracious reader of biography, I couldn’t resist.)Filled with multiple stories of heroism, nearly all accounts of prisoners incarcerated in Viet Nam camps, I was sobered as I remembered antiwar demonstrations, heated public debate, and unpopularity of the war. The personal suffering described is painful to read decades later. In contrast, some of my peers fled the country to avoid being drafted into their nation’s service to fight an unpopular war, and I was exempted by an educational deferment.

One of the stories recounted in the book will be etched in my memory for years. A prisoner of war salvaged scraps of colored cloth over a period of months and stitched them into a crude American flag using a makeshift needle made from bamboo. The sight of the flag emboldened soldiers, airmen, navy men and Marines wracked with pain from war related injuries, repeated beatings at the hands of cruel, weakened by dysentery and hunger. When the flag was shown to prisoners struggling to maintain sanity and sufficient moral strength to resist making treasonous statements to the enemy press, the captives broke into a rousing rendition of The Star Spangled Banner. When discovered, the flag was confiscated and its creator was severely beaten, humiliated, and returned to his cell. Unconscious and in agony, fellow prisoners nursed the soldier back to consciousness. Though unable to walk, the patriot crawled to a corner – and began sewing another flag.

Symbols rally, energize, renew resolve. In February-March 1945, the battle for Iwo Jima was fierce. Only 8 square miles, the island was strategic because of the airstrips. The strength of deeply entrenched Japanese forces were stubborn and strong. A handful of Marines fought their way to the most prominent peak, Mount Suribachi, on the southern end of the volcanic island and planted the US flag. On March 26, 1945, the disheartened and weary Marines saw their nation’s flag, rallied and took the island’s airstrips, a huge turning point in World War II.

Early this morning I placed a flag outdoors in observance of “Flag Day,” June 14. Today has a special place in my heart because today is also the anniversary of Pastor Charles Green’s birth. Pastor Green was my first ministry mentor and dear friend. He taught me what could not be learned in classrooms. From him I learned to love and laugh simultaneously. This has proven to be as valuable as Greek and theology lessons. Known as “Bud” by his family and close friends, pastor shared insights into human nature and demonstrated coping skills that have served me well for the past 45 years. When he passed away in 2009, I participated at his funeral and was deeply moved by a full military ceremony at the cemetery. Charles Green had earned a Purple Heart for wounds suffered in the hills of Italy during World War II, returned home married Helen Crites, graduated from Central Bible College, pastored churches in Michigan, Florida and New Jersey. Helen Crites Green was handed the flag which had draped his coffin. I’ll never forget the moment. I’ll always remember the man.