| I am
the flag of the United States of America . . . My name is Old
Glory.
I fly atop the world's tallest
buildings. I stand watch in America's halls of justice.
I fly majestically over great institutes of learning. I stand
guard with the greatest military power in the world.
Look up! And see me!
I stand for peace, honor, truth,
and justice . . . I stand for freedom . . . I am confident . .
. I am arrogant . . . I am proud.
When I am flown with my fellow
banners . . . My head is a little higher . . . My colors a little
truer. I bow to no one.
I am recognized all over the
world. I am worshipped . . . I am saluted . . . I am respected
. . . I am revered . . . I am loved . . . And I am
feared.
I have fought every battle of every
war for more than 200 years . . . Gettysburg, Shilo, Appomatox, San
Juan Hill, the trenches of France, the Argonne Forest, Anzio, Rome,
the beaches of Normandy, the deserts of Africa, the cane fields of
the Philippines, the rice paddies and jungles of Guam, Okinawa,
Japan, Korea, Vietnam, Guadalcanal New Britain, Peleliu, and many
more islands.
And a score of places long
forgotten by all but those who were with me.
I was
there.
I led my soldiers . . . I followed
them . . . I watched over them . . . They loved me.
I was on a small hill in Iwo
Jima.
I was dirty, battle-worn and tired, but my soldiers cheered
me, and I was proud.
I have been soiled, burned, torn
and trampled on the streets of countries I have helped set
free.
It does not hurt, for I am invincible.
I have been soiled, burned, torn
and trampled on the streets of my country, and when it is by those
with whom I have served in battle - it hurts. But I shall
overcome - for I am strong.
I have slipped the bonds of Earth
and stand watch over the uncharted new frontiers of space from my
vantage point on the moon. I have been a silent witness to all
of America's finest hours.
But my finest hour comes when I am
torn into strips to be used for bandages for my wounded comrades on
the field of battle . . . When I fly at half mast to honor my
soldiers . . . And when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving
mother at the graveside of her fallen son.
I am proud.
My name is
Old Glory.
Dear God - Long may I wave.
| 
