My Grandfather was a glider infantryman in WWII, an advisor in Korea, and lost one of his sons, my uncle Gary Edwards, in Vietnam. I worked in his auto repair station during high school and he flew his flag in front daily. One day while I was sweeping the oil dry out of the bays it began to sprinkle rain. He told me to go get the flag and I said "gimme a second." He said, "It is raining, go get the flag NOW." Well I popped off my mouth about how he should cool it, it isn't going to melt or some such typical teenage comment.
My grandfather is the toughest man I've ever met. He explained once that he thought basic training was some sort of country club during WWII, because he was used to hard work anyway, and at home he didn't have indoor toilets or hot running water! And when I said whatever it was that I said to him, he turned deep crimson and I thought, "God save me, he's going to kill me for talking back." Instead tears welled up in his eyes and he squeaked out "You don't understand what this family has paid for the right to fly that flag." Then he turned his back on me and went out and got the flag. I just stood there feeling like the smallest person to ever live. Those words cut me so deep. I wish the entire country could have heard them.
[ I ] hope that this Nation might yet have enough people who understand the cost of liberty to turn things around. http://www.usflag.org/
I've read this story several times but it makes me teary eyed and gives me a lump in the throat every time. I don't think anybody better tell the Dalkas and Edwardses they're planning on changing the flag because the response won't be a squeak, more like a blood-curdling battle cry as they come down like a ton of bricks. And that goes for me too.