Why do we say that

TODD THOMPSON
Special to Hutch Post 

I took my young son to a ballgame.

After buying way more snacks than we needed, we found our seats just in time for the National Anthem. I reminded him to remove his hat and place it over his heart.

As the anthem ended and the crowd cheered, he turned to me and asked, “Why do we say that?”

As a parent, you get flooded with questions. But this was one I was excited to answer. Who wouldn’t want to share a story of our founders’ grit, resilience, and the struggle for freedom?

I leaned toward him and asked, “Do you know the story of Francis Scott Key, Fort McHenry, and the War of 1812?”

He gave me a blank stare. “Huh?”

So, I began.

I explained that in 1812, even though America had won its independence 29 years earlier, the British were still being bullies. They were back—and angry. After burning down Washington, D.C., the British turned their sights to attack every major port in America starting with Baltimore. The only thing standing in their way was a coastal stronghold called Fort McHenry.

By this point, my son’s gaze had wandered to the man selling cotton candy. I knew I was losing him. But, like the defenders at Fort McHenry, I wasn’t about to give up.

I told him about an American doctor named William Beanes, who had been captured by the British. A lawyer and poet named Francis Scott Key set sail on a daring mission to rescue him.

I explained that Key took a boat to meet with a British admiral to negotiate Beanes’ release. The admiral agreed, but with one condition: he believed Key knew too much about the British plans to seize Baltimore, so he refused to release him until after the British navy destroyed it.

I knew my son felt I was rambling, but I knew he needed to understand that Fort McHenry had a massive rampart, or wall, around it. A little over one thousand defenders sat ready to protect it and Baltimore. Behind the ramparts flew an enormous American flag, flying high enough so the British would see it.

Of course, this was no concern for the British—they had the greatest navy in the world!

On September 12, 1814, the battle began.

As twilight’s last gleaming fell, over 5,000 British soldiers and a fleet of 19 ships unleashed an attack on Fort McHenry. For 25 hours, in the rain and fog, the British laid siege to the fort, firing 1,500 to 1,800 cannonballs.

I felt that if my son understood this was one of the longest bombardments in North American history, with the fate of the city—and perhaps the nation—at stake, I might finally be more interesting than the fry guy.

I continued, explaining that on that dark and stormy night, the only thing Key could see was the bombs bursting in air. The only glimpse of the fort’s ramparts came through the rockets’ red glare.

And all Key could think about was the British admiral’s words—if the flag had fallen through the night, so would the fort, the city, and the nation.

By dawn’s early light, the guns grew silent. Key had no idea what had happened through the perilous fight. He needed proof of what happened through the night. So, he aimed his spyglass at the ramparts.

As the sun finally broke through the clouds above the ramparts—there it stood—the flag was still there!

Torn, tattered, and damaged, yet it waved. Key could see the broad stripes and bright stars gallantly streaming. That star-spangled banner yet waved!

“And the British left! Key and Beanes were released!” I exclaimed to my son. “And that is why we sing the National Anthem. It’s a symbol of resilience. We fight for and are the land of the free!”

Lost in the story, I finally looked down. Expecting a look of pride, maybe even goosebumps. Instead, I saw a look of confusion.

“Dad, I know that! I was asking why we say ‘Chiefs’ instead of ‘Brave’ at the end.”

“Oh…” I blinked. “Because we’re the best—obviously.”

Todd Thompson is the County Attorney for Leavenworth County Kansas.