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Thursday, March 21, 2002

By Bob Batz Jr., Post-Gazette Staff Writer

Many people are flying the colors of this nation at war. But the red, white and blue banner Robin Perdue has hanging in her window is extra special, as is her status as a military member's mom.

	Chris Thompson, adjutant of American Legion Perry Highway Post 161, leaves after presenting a blue star service banner to Robin Perdue, who promptly hung it in a window of her Harmony home. Her 20-year-old son, Glynn, is in the Army and training to be a Ranger at Fort Benning, Ga. (Steve Mellon/Post-Gazette)

It was 10 a.m. Monday when the men with the banner pulled up in front of her old frame house in the Butler County village of Harmony. They wore the blue jacket-and-tie dress uniforms of the American Legion, and their caps identified them as the adjutant and commander of Perry Highway Post 161.

After brief small talk with Perdue and her father, Olin Watson, Adjutant Chris Thompson stood soldier straight and unrolled the 8-by-16-inch banner to reveal a blue star on a white field framed in red. Presenting it to Perdue, Commander John Gerhard said, "I want you to know how proud our post is of your son ... and of your family for doing what you're doing for our country."

Hang it proudly, he told her.

"Oh, yes," she softly replied.

Her 20-year-old son, Glynn, is in the Army. He's training to be a Ranger at Fort Benning, Ga., but was ready to go abroad after the Sept. 11 attacks. So the war on terrorism is more personal and scary for her, as it is for tens of thousands of others who have loved ones in active military service.

The blue star in the window is a traditional way for families to display their pride and to remind others of their service. Perdue's dad, who is 82, remembers how common they were during World War II, and knows there was one in a window for him while he was fighting in Europe. "This looks just like it."

Younger people may only know them from war movies, such as "Saving Private Ryan," in which the Ryans' Iowa home has a star for each of their four sons serving in WWII. (Perdue's dad was one of five brothers who served.) The banners faded in popularity during the Korean and Vietnam wars, and only a few popped up during the Persian Gulf conflict. But now the national American Legion is leading a patriotic push to bring them back.

Since beginning its campaign in November, the Legion has sold more than 33,000 banners, as well as thousands of paper posters, home and car decals, and lapel pins.

"The response we're getting is almost overwhelming," said spokesman Joe March at Legion headquarters in Indianapolis. "I think it shows our solidarity" -- and shows people the involvement of neighbors they may not even know.

In this region, some flag stores are carrying the banners, but only a few stars have gone up so far.

Perry Highway Post 161 ordered four of the Legion's $6.95 nylon banners, and has given two to members with children in the military. Monday's was the post's first formal presentation, said Thompson, who got to know Perdue at the Giant Eagle in McCandless where the single mom runs the health and beauty department.

Others are learning about the banners from the Legion's public service ads, news stories and on the Internet. Gary Kirsch, an engineer at PPG's Glass Technology Center in Harmar, found out about them from the Web site, www.militarymoms.net. He and his wife, Debbie, have been regular visitors there since their son, Zachary, left for the Army in August.

Zachary is training at Fort Bragg, N.C. His parents have a blue star banner in the front window of their Jackson Township home and decals in their cars, and both wear the lapel pins.

"I think everybody should have one. They should be up everywhere," said Kirsch, who even has helped design a blue star quilt. He likes it when people ask him what they mean.

According to the history posted on the Legion site, the Blue Star Service Banner was designed and patented in 1917 by an Ohio Army captain who had two sons on the front lines in World War I. The symbol caught on, and by WWII, the federal government was regulating how the banners could be made, who could display them and how.

They're not just for parents but also spouses, siblings and other relatives of those on active duty during war or hostilities. Each banner can have up to five stars.

Financial consultant Bill McLay of Export, Westmoreland County, saw a TV news story about the banners, and is waiting for a custom-made one with three stars: One for his daughter, Heather Davidson, an Army captain based at Fort Lewis, Wash; one for her husband, Gregory, who also is an officer there; and one for his other officer son-in-law, Karl Gossett, an instructor at West Point.

"Certainly our lives our enmeshed in what's going on," said McLay, who ordered his banner from another Department of Defense-authorized maker, ServiceFlags.com.

David Smith said he started the Carson City, Nev., company with his sister around Thanksgiving and has been getting much busier in recent days as more people learn about the banners (also called service flags). They donate 50 cents per banner sale to the WWII-era group of military moms, the Blue Star Mothers of America Inc., that is making a comeback of its own.

"We're on the rise," said Susan Naill, first vice president of the Maryland-based group, which went from a low of 600 members when she joined in the early 1990s to 900 and growing today. Their chapters (including one that may be forming in Pittsburgh) now do everything from hospital work to homeland defense, but Naill is delighted to see the banners bloom. "It's a tradition that shouldn't be forgotten."

What nobody wants to see is the other part of the tradition, which holds that when a loved one dies in duty, the blue star gets replaced by a gold star. Legion spokesman March said the Legion has quietly presented some gold star banners as well. "It is our fervent prayer that we will not have to replace the blue with the gold, but we know the reality of war."

That's what makes the banner in Robin Perdue's house so much more than a decoration.

After she thumbtacked it to the old wood window frame and watched the Legionnaires drive away, she stood in her red, white and blue dining room and looked at the banner, backlit by the morning light.

"I love it," she said. "I love it.

"I'll have to take a picture to send to Glynn."