When the Vietnam War was over, everyone was relieved it was over, but we did not anticipate the travesties imposed by the North Vietnamese that were about to happen. Nevertheless, the flag was still flying. America was still America the beautiful. But we had lost, no matter how hard we tried to put a good face on it. Those little guys in the jungle took us down. It hurt then, and it still hurts, especially when seeing the way South Vietnam was treated with millions persecuted, and then the killing fields of Cambodia where death in the name of communism rained down under the auspices of Pol Pot and his Khmer Rouge. The domino theory that was scoffed at by the Left during the War proved to be at least partially correct as Indochina (Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam) went communist.

In Burns’ series on the Vietnam War, the image of the flag remains a unifying symbol, a ray of hope. It had been there for the former captives to remind them that their country had not abandoned them. No ignoramuses with shoulder pads, millions in the bank, and mile high chips on their shoulders can change the fact that love of the flag sustained our POWs and our troops until 1973, and eventually brought them home.

Vietnam, the Flag, and Me