It had been Dillon's first year in Afghanistan, and already he understood how much horror is involved with war. How much sacrifice, not only in those who give their life for their country, but those who live on-having to exist day by day with the memories of their traumatic experiences haunting them. Memories of death and bloodshed and pleas of forbearance. He scanned the faces of the crowds. They clapped, but he wondered if they knew.
"They gave up their lives for you." Dillon thought.
No, maybe not their bodies. But forever the scars and wounds from battle would constantly plague them, causing more anguish than any major injury. A slight wind blew, causing the large flag to dance. Dillon looked up at it and smiled gently, remembering the symbolism of his countries flag.. The colors of the pale, vertical stripes signified purity and innocence. He looked at the people, America had lost that. Red signified hardiness and valor. Again, America's respect for the brave and courageous of this country had lessened. Blue had represented vigilance, perseverance and justice. Dillon's heart became heavy as he watched the people closely. Women chatted as they passed by, unbeknownst to the men who had fought for their freedom. People fiddled with their phones, already too bored to pay any respect at all. Couples, too focused on each other, laughed and and giggled as the true hero's of the country walked right by them. Where were the just? The perseverant? The vigilant? Dillon again looked at the flag, remembering a quote from a book, published in 1977 by the House of representatives...
"The star on the flag is a symbol of the heavens and the divine goal to which man has aspired from time immemorial; the stripe is symbolic of the rays of light emanating from the sun."
The divine goal of man - to reach the stars in the heavens, to reach GOD. That was the true goal of why they fought for this blessed country. To have the freedom to continue that trek for heaven. Dillon continued walking. Then faintly, in the distance he heard a voice. He noticed the crowds were looking around for it as well. Anger bubbled inside of him. The people were already paying their countries hero's no respect. Whoever was distracting them even more should know better. As they walked on however, the voice became more clear and distinct. Dillon started to make out the words of a song.
"America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!"
Dillon looked into the crowd, where the voice was coming from. There ahead of them, a man, around his eighties, was standing on top of a picnic table on the edge of a park. His hand was lifted in Salute and his baritone voice lifted among the hu-bub of the crowds. Dillon watched more closely, his throat beginning to grow tight. He had been wrong. There were still just and courageous people walking in America and honoring it's soldiers. As they walked nearer, the mans' voice began to shake as he continued singing America the beautiful.
"O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved,
And mercy more than life!
America! America! May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness,
And ev'ry gain divine!"
Dillon saluted him and the flag in his arms danced for joy.
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