Captain Brian E. Anderson
United States Army, Field Artillery
7818 NW Welco Avenue, Lawton, Oklahoma 73505
kappasig5@hotmail.com

Our country is composed of men and women who have served faithfully and honorably—some as members of the armed services, others as citizens. Honoring the flag is honoring them.

0500 hours, I crawl out from under warm, comfortable blankets and, a little later, face a cold rain and stinging wind while I do the morning's physical exercises. It would be so much easier if I could start my day off at 0800. But then I hear a faint sound—I stop, turn, and "Present Arms," for my flag is being raised.

1200 hours, noon, I am plowing through a stack of papers that never seems to end, mind-numbing forms and reports which seem to multiply every time I turn my head.

1500 hours, another meeting, more paperwork—I don't think this day will ever end. But then I look out the window and see our beautiful flag furling in the wind. I guess things are not that bad.

1645 hours, I've got to finish this last report and attend one last meeting for the day. "What, you need me to work late?" I was right, this day will never end.

1700 hours, I walk outside for some fresh air. I hear a faint sound—I stop, turn, and "Present Arms," for my flag is being lowered.

1900 hours, and I finally go home. My beautiful wife and daughter are waiting for me as I pull into the driveway. I enjoy a good evening with my family and lie down for the night.

2300 hours, and I hear a faint sound—turn, close my eyes, and listen to "Taps." A comrade is being remembered.

What seems to be a normal day for me is filled with many thoughts and feelings about our flag. I am lucky: lucky to be able to run and see and think and breathe and work and play; lucky to be able to salute the flag which protects those things. I can do all that and everything else I do because of what others have done before me.

What does the flag mean to me? It is a symbol of every human being who has ever defended her, died for her, stood by her, risked everything to live under her, or cried for her. Sure, to some she is only a piece of material—a symbol of government. But those who died, who can no longer walk or talk or see or feel or hear or laugh—I bet they felt differently. I have no way of thanking every person who has ever served our country, but I can start by saluting our flag. They cared; I can care, too.

You see, when you burn, walk on, spit on or deface our flag, you are burning, walking on, spitting at and defacing them—the ones who cared enough to give you freedom.

As a veteran of Bosnia, I know how fortunate I am to live in and serve such a wonderful country. I have seen the alternative. Neither you nor I want to live that way. Our country is not composed of politicians nor of government, but of men and women who have served faithfully and honorably—some in the armed services, some in the duties and responsibilities of citizenship. That is what the flag stands for.

So please, if you love your freedom, if you love the right to do what you want, then I ask that you, too, have the compassion and dignity to respect and honor a symbol which means so much to so many. Or, someday, we may all just decide to stay in bed.