Roy Exum
To many it seems like a quirky thing that I do, but on every birthday that I celebrate, I exchange the American flag that flies in front of my house. No, there is absolutely nothing wrong with the one that has been on display for the past year, but I want the colors to be vivid, to have a renewed freshness, in my very best attempt to remember what the flag means to me personally.
The flag, to me, is the most revered symbol outside of the cross, on display at the front door of my house, and I can quickly get weepy over the millions of Americans who died so that we can live free. This year I am told my birthday (April 4) is a biggie (age 70) so when I ordered this year’s flag from Valley Forge, I went all-in for the very best flag they make.
As I did so, I was reminded of Carl Tallent, among my favorite all-time teachers, who during World War II was among the hundreds of thousands who fought to keep “The Burma Road” open. Today country Myanmar, it was a key to the Allies’ success. Millions of supplies were airlifted over “The Hump” from India into China to keep Japan at bay.
When I was still too young to drive a car, my grandfather – Roy McDonald -- put me to work with his surprisingly-large construction crew and ‘the boss’ was Carl, who after the war helped TVA build a bunch of dams. He disliked being gone from his little farm in Dayton, Tn., so he went to work with my family. Hundreds of times I would sit with him on a stack of old pallets during the lunch break. He was an encyclopedia of information and the best story of all was the tale about when he raised “Old Glory” over the battlefield in Burma.
The ground war in the jungles of the Burma Theater was among the most intense, the scholars and historians would later agree, in all the War. The Japs wanted China badly – it was a huge piece in the game –and three-fourths of a million Japanese gave their lives in the effort. After one very singularly victory for the Allies, a general decreed he wanted a flag to be flown that even the most naked Japanese could see.
As a flagpole over 100 feet was hurriedly built, a huge flag worthy of Betsy Ross was sewn, but the general had forgotten one primary element – how are you going to stand up over a 10-story flag pole? It wasn’t like anybody would have thought to bring a step-ladder and helicopters as well as anything else with a motor was far more useful elsewhere.
Suddenly there was this huge problem in displaying America’s courage. The bigwigs were, to a man, perplexed, and that was not until a captain at command headquarters said there was one guy – some hayseed from Southeastern Tennessee, could get it done with resources at hand. That unknown officer was even willing to bet a bottle of Kentucky’s finest that his man could get it done and, while there in no evidence, it is believed to this day the officer had several takers on that bottle bet before Carl Tallent was summoned.
Carl, ever humble, stood at the foot of that long flap and studied it well. In modern-day talk you would have bet its long end would have had a different zip code, but when some colonel asked him if he could raise the flagpole, Carl nodded and, when asked how long it would take, Carl’s answer should be legendary, “About 10 minutes.”
When asked what supplies it would take, Carl’s laundry list was simple:
* -- A rope about 150 feet long. (No matter that it had more knots than a berry farm, one was quickly found.
* -- Four additional ropes, each about 60 feet long.
* -- A small shelf, two feet square, that could be affixed to the base of the pole.
* -- An empty five-gallon glass jar.
* -- A five-gallon bucket filled with water and a liberal dose of red food coloring.
* -- 100 soldiers, each with no more than 30 minutes they needed to spare.
A hole, deeper than any man in camp could stand, was dug at the highest point of the terrain, and upon Carl’s signal, 60 men – 30 to a side – lifted the pole waist high. Four groups of 10 men each had already fanned to the end of the 60-foot ropes, had already been tied to the pole at the same spot on the pole.
At the given command, the men holding the pole itself had a simple task. As those at the base angled the pole into the hole, those at the ‘high end’ lifted the pole overhead. The very second their hands could no longer touch the pole, they were to sprint to the other end, pulling the dickens on the rope until, with Yankee ingenuity, the pole pointed skyward. Unbelievable, and the top brass loved it.
Before the pole-raising, Carl had taken the glass jar and positioned it equidistant, a very exact black line on it at the middle. This jar he filled to that line with the colored water, bright enough for anyone nearby to see but transparent enough for just as many to adjudge as plumb. In other words, this crude level was all that it took for the four 60-foot ropes to be adjusted so the pole would be exactly straight from any angle.
By nightfall that very day our flag was visible for miles over the battlefield where many Americans gave their lives. Today with my new flag I cherish our nation’s memories and, far more personally for me, my classmates and teammates who gave their all for what I take for granted almost every day.
If you replace your flag this spring, don’t hesitate to spring for the extra deluxe.
royexum@aol.com