Readers share their stories of the stars and stripes
By Jonetta Rose Coffin
Herald Writer
The love of Old Glory is rooted deep in the hearts of many Snohomish County residents, especially when remembering those who gave so much during times of war to preserve the freedoms we enjoy.
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Roy Johnson, a state ranger living on Camano Island, flies his flag in honor of Jay Me Lad, his loyal and trusted sentry dog, and the thousands of dogs like him who gave their lives to save soldiers in Vietnam.
And though they never met "Uncle Ivan," when Therese Evans of Snohomish and her family hang the flag that draped his coffin from their balcony on holidays, they are grateful for the sacrifice of a young soldier blinded by mustard gas on the battlefields of World War I.
When Ken Schilaty talks about his flag he gets goose bumps; so do most of those who hear the story of how he patched together a flag from the waste of war.
The soft-spoken veteran of World War II, now a resident of Snohomish, was 23 when he arrived in the Innsbruck area of Austria in 1945.
As platoon leader and acting commander with the 409th Regiment of the 103rd Infantry Division, he was among the first American troops to reach Baumkirchen and established headquarters in a confiscated castle.
Realizing that his unit had the company flag, but no American flag, Schilaty decided to have one made immediately.
The local tailor charged with making the flag was able to take red fabric from a Nazi banner. A member of the platoon produced a white tablecloth that he had taken from a restaurant and saved.
Only the blue fabric remained to be found.
Determined to see the Stars and Stripes flying over his headquarters by morning light, Schilaty began searching for the blue cloth. When he spotted an Austrian woman wearing a blue apron, his search was ended.
The tailor completed his work quickly and the new flag was flying high the next day.
Several months later, Schilaty had earned enough points to return home, but the flag he had commissioned remained behind.
At the 34th reunion of the 103rd Infantry Division in Michigan, Schilaty learned that his flag had not been abandoned in Austria, but had been brought to the United States by the division commander who had arrived in Baumkirchen after Schilaty departed.
A few weeks after the reunion, a package was delivered to Schilaty’s home.
"When the package arrived," an emotional Schilaty said, indicating the goose bumps on his arms, "I knew what was inside, and I just couldn’t open it."
The package remained unopened for several weeks until, prompted by his wife, Flo, Schilaty was able to unwrap it.
And so, after a 39-year separation, Schilaty was reunited with the flag he brought into being, the first American flag to be raised over Adolph Hitler’s homeland.
Schilaty’s story is just one of an out-pouring of letters and e-mails from Herald readers, and what began as a story about flags became much more.
While the flag is the common thread running through all of the stories, together they paint a pretty good picture of what life is like in our corner of the world and of what it means to be an American.
Here, in the words of Herald readers, are the rest of the stories.
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