O say can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hail'd at the twilight's last gleaming,
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight
O'er the ramparts we watch'd were so gallantly streaming?

Growing up adjacent to an American air force base in the 1960s, I came to love all things American—hot dogs, baseball, fighter jets and especially the national anthem, The Star-Spangled Banner. The imagery stirred my imagination. The idea of the flag flying through the night while the battle raged around it—the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air—thrilled my young heart. Almost every day I would stop and watch the squadrons take off and head out over the North Atlantic during the perilous days of the Cold War. I knew the words of the anthem by heart.

O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On a shelf in my house is a flag, neatly folded and placed there with loving care. A flag that I took down from the last place it flew. It is not the Stars and Stripes. It is the flag with the star in the centre, the yellow, the red and the blue. It is the flag of The Salvation Army. This particular flag last flew on June 26, 2006, outside the College for Officer Training in St. John's, N.L. On that day the last cadets ever to train there loaded their cars, gathered their families around them and said goodbye. It was the end of an era.

At that time I was on the staff of the college, and among the last persons to leave the building. Since nobody else was interested in having the flag, I asked if I might keep it. I felt a little like Joseph of Arimathea taking something sacred down from the tree to place in my own secret tomb. Alas, I am still waiting for the resurrection.

In the heady days of the Army in Canada, every June was a great celebration of what our leaders called the “annual miracle” when scores of cadets (sometimes nearing 100 in total) were commissioned. In Toronto, the venerable Massey Hall in the city's heart was rented for the event. Although it held almost 3,000 people, one had to get there early to secure a good seat. In St. John's, the stadium or one of the large churches was often used for commissioning, and like in Toronto, crowds filled the meeting places. The annual miracle was celebrated in grand style.

Then the miracles grew smaller. Fewer cadets entered training. Many dorm rooms in the Toronto college sat empty. Classrooms echoed. The college closed in 2004 and the flag came down. St. John's held out until 2006 and then the second flag came down. The two areas with the greatest concentration of Salvationists on the continent were now without a training college. It must be pointed out that this last fact is not the reason why so few cadets are in training today. Young people were staying away from officership before the colleges closed. The colleges closed because there were not enough cadets to justify staying open. The real cause of the drought of recruits to officership lies far deeper than the location of the training college. It's a spiritual problem.

Jesus said, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field” (Luke 10:2). The Lord's intention to equip and send workers into the harvest field has not changed. It is God's will to anoint and appoint people to ministry. Why, then, this dearth of cadets in The Salvation Army? Perhaps somewhere in the hallowed rooms of territorial headquarters someone is figuring out what happened to the “annual miracle” and is planning on doing something about it. Perhaps even now someone has the answer and is about to unveil a Marshall Plan to restore the Army's future.

One can only hope.

Today a brave band of cadets and their teachers hold the fort at Winnipeg. Like the defenders at the Alamo, they keep the training college flag flying. Will it be the last? An old cowboy song comes to mind: “O bury me not on the lone prairie.” Don't let this outpost fall.

Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto—“In God is our trust.”

Major Fred Ash is the corps officer at Burlington Community Church, Ont.