And as we had no country, so we had no flag to love.

It was by no far-fetched symbolism that the banner of the House of Romanoff became the emblem of our latter-day bondage in our eyes.

Even a child would know how to hate the flag that we were forced, on pain of severe penalties, to hoist above our housetops, in celebration of the advent of one of our oppressors.

And as it was with country and flag, so it was with heroes of war.

We hated the uniform of the soldier, to the last brass button.