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.
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:
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.
Talking to youngsters about his "war experiences" was the right thing to do for W. R. Penninger, a Florida resident who was a Japanese prisoner of war during WWII.
In 1995, a class of seventh graders were looking for a hero when they found Penninger, who was quick to say he wasn't a hero . . . he was a survivor.
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.
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.
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.
