Threads of Honor
Publisher: Deseret Book Company
Publication Date: First Edition, 1996
Binding: Paperback, 96 pages
Publisher: Mapletree Publishing
Publication Date: Second Edition, 2004
Binding: Paperback, 128 pages

As Major Bill Tolbert looked out across the gathered assembly on April 6, 1991, preparatory to his remarks at the awards banquet, held at the United States Air Force Academy, he entertained a fleeting thought about how it all began and how no one, least of all himself, could have foreseen how it would end.

But was it the end? On several prior occasions he had felt that the story had concluded only to see new chapters commence before his eyes. Perhaps, his instincts told him, the earlier struggle was only the preparation — the crucible through which all of them had to go to understand the meaning of sacrifice — the meaning behind the flag — indeed the threads of honor which they now held in the confines of their hearts.

With a slow, deep breath and one more glimpse at the hundreds assembled, Major Tolbert began his address:

“Today, few Americans think much about flags at all, and hardly anyone ever stops to ponder the story behind an individual flag. If they did, it could change their lives. Tonight, I want to share an amazing story with you. It’s a story about the thrill and the challenge of the American space program. And it’s a story about a Boy Scout troop and how they came to understand courage, sacrifice and faith. But most of all, it’s the story of a simple but very special flag, made by the Valley Forge Flag Company in Spring City, Pennsylvania — a flag that changed many lives.

I was an air force officer, assigned to the new Air Force Space Command...”

Tenderfoot

Crafted in Spring City, Pennsylvania at the Valley Forge Flag Company, I can’t really pinpoint my first conscious thought, but I believe it came as my fiftieth star was being stitched. Shortly thereafter, I clearly remember someone hemming my edges and I’ll never forget the guy who added the two brass grommets — one up top near the blue field and one toward the corner of my bottom stripe.

That first night, after the Valley Forge employees had gone home and the building became silent, I was startled to hear the chatter of my older brothers and sisters as they began to speculate about their forthcoming assignments. As I think back, I didn’t understand about assignments then. That evening when they all fell silent in a flurry of whispers, I participated in the first of a week long series of history lessons which taught me what I later came to understand were only the basics.

He was an enormous flag. As he unfurled from the ceiling and hung majestically toward the floor, he began to speak in deep and reverent tones of our history.

“Who’s that?” I whispered to my older sibling, folded neatly on a shelf above mine.

“Shush,” he said. “That’s the Flag Master — the Keeper of the Sacred Thread.”

“Oh,” I replied and listened. By the end of the week I knew it all — or thought I did. The false wisdom of youth, I suppose. But I did know one thing. I had my assignment. I was to accompany several hundred of my peers to Washington DC — to the United State’s Capitol Building. A choice assignment I was told, but probably only a transitory one, for the Flag Master told us, as he read out our assignments, that those of us going to the capitol building would fly but briefly over that edifice before being re-assigned and then we could look forward to a lifetime of service, with the added prestige of having been a ‘nation’s capitol’ flag. How true were his words.
My last night at the Valley Forge Flag Company I gathered the nerve to ask the Flag Master if he knew my destiny. With a slight ruffle of his edges, he looked down at my small, three by five foot stature and brusquely replied in a voice which reverberated through centuries.

“I know your history young man, but your destiny is in your threads. See that you honor them.”

Bill Tolbert turned into his driveway, activated the remote control garage opener and expertly placed his car on the right side, gently slowing as his windshield approached the hanging tennis ball, placed to assure his proper positioning front to rear. Grabbing his briefcase and heading up the stairs, two at a time, he entered the bedroom and hung his uniform jacket on a suit hanger, smiling at Chris as she brought him a glass of orange juice.

“Tough night?” she asked.

“Not bad, but they also asked me to consider leading the new scout troop,” he said, shaking his head.

“I know,” she said. Jackie told me.”

“The wives always know first, don’t they,” he grinned. Chris just smiled.

“Chris, it’ll take a lot of time and with my new work assignment, I don’t think I have that time to spare.”

“I know you can do it Bill. It’ll be good for you, I know it will,” she said.

“How is it that a wife always knows what’s good for you and it’s always something other than golf?”

“That’s why God made us,” she smiled. “So our husbands would always do what’s good for them.”

Bill stripped his tie, half hearing Chris’s remarks, and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes. “I’ll give it a nights sleep,” he mumbled, mostly to himself.

Ten minutes later as they drifted toward sleep, Chris turned over, wrapping her arm around Bill’s shoulder and snuggling up to his back. “Bill,” she whispered.

“Ummm?”

“Bill, I know you’re the one for the job.”

Bill rolled over on his back, Chris laying her head on his chest as he laced his fingers through her hair. “Chris, I’ve got seventeen men and women in my division waiting for me to give them directions each day and a colonel who thinks I’m too young and inexperienced, waiting to evaluate how I do it. According to the general, I’m the one for that job too.”

“Maybe these six young men need you, Bill,” she replied.

Bill considered her comments for a moment. “You know, I never got past Second Class the one time I tried the Scouts.”

Chris was silent.

“Bill Tolbert, Scoutmaster,” he pronounced, in an official tone.

“Sounds good to me, Major Tolbert,” she chided.

“Maybe,” he said, rolling back over to go to sleep. “We’ll see what the Colonel says in the morning. He may not think it’s such a hot idea.”

“You’re the man for the job, Bill,” Chris said again, turning toward the window and watching through the drapes as the moon rose over the trees in the Black Forest Estates near Colorado Springs. “And the boys will teach you more than you teach them,” she thought, as she closed her eyes.

 

“Morning Major.,” Lieutenant Henry called out across the parking lot. “My son tells me you’re gonna be his new Scoutmaster. Boy, that’s a relief. I thought they’d hook me into it.”

Sliding out from behind the wheel, Bill locked his car and began to walk toward his office, the young lieutenant saluting and falling in alongside. “Good news travels fast — is that it?” Bill asked.

“Something like that, I suppose,” the lieutenant laughed.

“Well, if, and I said if, I accept the job, the first thing I’ll need is a willing ‘gopher’ as my assistant scoutmaster. Know anyone qualified lieutenant?” Bill grinned at him.

“Not a one sir. Not a one,” he dodged. “Better run Major. I’ve got to get that flight estimate for your morning staff meeting with the colonel.”

Entering the building and turning down the corridor towards his office, Bill watched Lieutenant Henry head the opposite way. “You do that Jack,” he called after him.

Turning into his office, Bill checked the fax and passed his secretary’s desk. “Morning Mary. Have a good weekend?”

“I did Major. Oh, and Major, the general’s secretary telephoned earlier. Colonel Addison’s been called away. General Kitchner will chair the staff meeting this morning.”

“Thanks Mary. Check with Lieutenant Henry if you would and let him know. Also, be sure he has his presentations slides up and ready to go before nine.”

 

Following staff meeting, Bill lingered as other division chiefs departed, making his way toward General Kitchner who noticed him coming and smiled. “Good briefing Major.”

“Thank you sir. General, with Colonel Addison gone for a couple of weeks, I need to obtain permission for an outside assignment. I don’t believe it will interfere with my duties here sir, but thought the colonel should concur.”

Kitchner’s eyebrows raised slightly as he waited for Bill to continue.

“Sir, I’ve been asked to lead a small Boy Scout troop — a new troop actually. Just six boys.

“Major,” Kitchner continued to smile, “ever had the pleasure before?”

“No sir.”

“I think it’ll be compatible. Leave a short memo for Colonel Addison about our discussion.”

Bill hesitated briefly. “Sir, the colonel’s, uh, he expressed some concern about the division’s work load, my being so new and all.”

“Leave the colonel to me, Major. I know he thinks you’re young, but Addison’s a good man and when he comes to know you, you’ll do fine.”

“Thank you General,” Bill replied and retrieving his briefing papers, departed.

As General Kitchner gathered up his notes, Lieutenant Henry, closing the slide projector and clearing equipment spoke up. “Boy, I was afraid they’d grab me for that one, General.”
“Excuse me Lieutenant?”

“The Scout troop sir. I thought they’d ask me since my son’s in the troop. I hope the Major can juggle it.”

“You’re right out of the academy aren’t you Lieutenant? How long you been with us now?”

“Sir, about three weeks.”

“And working for Major Tolbert?”

“Just two weeks sir.”

“Lieutenant, have you stopped to wonder why I appointed a new major as division chief in what normally is a senior colonel’s slot?”

Henry paused, not sure how to answer. “No sir. I hadn’t given it much thought.”

“Well, when you can figure that out son, then you’ll know why someone also asked him to lead the scout troop. Carry on Lieutenant.”

“Yes sir.”