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16 SOLERA DIAMOND VALLEY | JULY 2023 By Howard Schnauber, Submitted by Clare Mendez, Resident Howard Schnauber was born in Watertown, New York, orphaned, and adopted by the Schnauber family. In 1941 he joined the Marine Corps. Howard was wounded four times during World War II and once in Korea. Aer returning home, Howard stood guard duty for six hours when President Roosevelt died while the president's body was lying in state in the rotunda. Howard recalls this president fondly, especially for his respect for the Marines. It was Howard's Korean War injury that brought him to Colorado for treatment at the VA Hospital. Howard was active in Veterans Service, organizing a program to provide transportation to the Veteran's Hospital and serving homeless Vets. Howard passed away in 2004, but will forever be remembered by writing this poem: I am the flag of the United States of America. My name is Old Glory. I fly atop the world's tallest buildings. I stand watch in America's halls of justice. I fly majestically over great institutes of learning. I stand guard with the greatest military power in the world. Look up! And see me! I stand for peace - honor - truth and justice. I stand for freedom I am confident - I am arrogant I am proud. When I am flown with my fellow banners My head is a little higher My colors a little truer. I bow to no one. I am recognized all over the world. I am worshipped - I am saluted - I am respected I am revered - I am loved, and I am feared. I have fought every battle of every war for more than 200 years: Gettysburg, Shilo, Appomatox, San Juan Hill, the trenches of France, the Argonne Forest, Anzio, Rome, the beaches of Normandy, the deserts of Africa, the cane fields of the Philippines, the rice paddies and jungles of Guam, Okinawa, Japan, Korea, Vietnam, Guadalcanal New Britain, Peleliu, and many more islands. And a score of places long forgotten by all but those who were with me. I was there. I led my soldiers - I followed them. I watched over them. ey loved me. I was on a small hill in Iwo Jima. I was dirty, battle-worn and tired, but my soldiers cheered me, and I was proud. I have been soiled, burned, torn and trampled on the streets of countries I have helped set free. It does not hurt, for I am invincible. I have been soiled, burned, torn and trampled on the streets of my country, and when it is by those with whom I have served in battle - it hurts. But I shall overcome - for I am strong. I have slipped the bonds of Earth and stand watch over the uncharted new frontiers of space from my vantage point on the moon. I have been a silent witness to all of America's finest hours. But my finest hour comes when I am torn into strips to be used for bandages for my wounded comrades on the field of battle, When I fly at half- mast to honor my soldiers, And when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving mother at the graveside of her fallen son. I am proud. My name is Old Glory. Dear God - Long may I wave. My Name is Old Glory MEMORIAL DAY