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| Veterans Memorial Park |
November 11, 2003 |
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| Remarks by Congresswoman Heather Wilson
Veteran’s Memorial Park
Albuquerque, New Mexico
November 11, 2003
In the early hours of November 11, 1918, the American First Army was still hard at it, crossing the Meuse near the awful killing ground of Verdun. Their Deputy Chief of Staff was a man named George C. Marshall, who would rise to five stars in a later war. General Robert Lee Bullard’s Second Army was still advancing forward, too.
Pershing’s doughboys were fine young men, arriving toward the end of a war that had exhausted a continent. The British and French who watched them disembark described them as self-confident, determined, with discipline mostly self-imposed, friendly. In short, they were very American.
By the morning of the armistice that ended World War I, two million Americans served in uniform in Europe with another 2 million in uniform at home. At the time, the population of the United States was about 100 million people. One in twelve American men were in the military. About half were volunteers and the other half draftees.
We had some 41 divisions in the fight. To put that in context, the entire American Army has only 10 divisions today and about 240,000 Americans were sent to the recent action in Iraq.
By the day the war ended, the Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman Empires had collapsed and the Bolshevik revolution in Russia led to a separate peace on the eastern front. The German Army was voting with its feet and the German Navy was on a general strike.
The Germans appealed for terms directly to the American President, Woodrow Wilson. Early in the morning, in a rail car in the forest of Compiegne, the Germans agreed that the shooting would stop on the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day of the eleventh month of the year 1918. As the hour approached that morning, there were final salvos, and then, a strange silence.
The war to end all wars was over. There were 112,000 American casualties – men who would not be coming home at all, or whose lives would be forever changed.
Now we celebrate November 11th as Veteran’s Day rather than Armistice Day. It is a day to honor those who serve and those who have come home.
Of course, if the armistice at the end of World War I had been the war to end all wars, few of us would be here today. But the peace treaties of World War I contained the seeds of World War II that would germinate in the fertile soil of German resentment and economic collapse.
It took the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor to rouse the sleeping American giant and another generation of Americans put down their tools, left their shops and factories to earn the title of veteran.
We emerged from the Second World War as a superpower with global reach and global responsibilities. And it was not long before those responsibilities were thrust upon us.
On June 25th, 1950 communist North Korea launched a surprise attack across the 38th parallel. The South Korean army was smaller and ill equipped. Within three days, Seoul had fallen and the South Korean army was in full retreat.
America led the effort to support the South Koreans, sending 300,000 troops with the support of 15 other nations to defend South Korea.
Korea is known as the forgotten war – sandwiched between the enormity of World War II and the controversy of Vietnam. Well, we have not forgotten you. Thank you for your service.
Today, hard times, service and sacrifice are forging another generation of young leaders. I have the privilege in this job of meeting many of them and their families.
Last week I had the opportunity to visit the 111th Army National unit out of Rio Rancho. They are an air defense unit that keeps a low profile, but they are providing air defense in the national capital region.
The 111th has a proud heritage. The 111th Cavalry was a New Mexico Guard unit until April of 1940 when they finally gave up their horses and became the 200th Coastal Defense Artillery. The 200th was sent overseas and were the first to fire against the Japanese in the defense of Clark Field and the Philippines. They held out for as long as they could and then became prisoners of war. Most people don’t know them by their unit number. We know them better as the Battling Bastards of Bataan.
In her wonderful book about the 200th, Beyond Courage, Dorothy Cave described the men who joined up:
“They were a mixed bag of National Guardsmen from New Mexico – cowboys, ranchers, football players (some still in high school who lied about their ages), miners, college kids, professional men. Their commander was a journalist, their supply officer a postman, their chief medical officer an obstetrician.”
The men and women I met last week are citizen soldiers but 100% professionals. They are not that much different from their grandparents.
They are a mixed bag – a welder, a kindergarten teacher (who hurt her shoulder in a flag football game last weekend with the crew), a miner of silicon from Intel, college kids, a professor. Their commander is a Merrill Lynch financial advisor from Las Cruces.
I also get a lot of mail from people – folks in the military and their families. I received a copy of a letter from a young man’s parents who live here in town. His name is Kent. He is with the 3rd Battalion, 5th Regiment, 1st Marine Division. He graduated from St. Pius High School. He wrote to his parents just before the start of military action in Iraq.
“Hey, mom and Dad,
Still living the high life. If there was a worse area in the world, I don’t think I want to see it. This place just keeps getting better and better, since it is right now raining. Well, I, for one, feel great and proud. I feel great and proud and I love what I’m doing. This place is terrible, the toilets are disgusting, the sleeping areas are all right, and I love it.
I love it because I just got done talking to our “Wacky Iraqi” -- Jack. He is our local Iraqi defector who escaped to the U.S. after the Gulf War and now works as an interpreter and an intelligence source. We just had a long conversation over lunch about what we are doing here, Iraq in general, and all sorts of things. His family was tortured by the Saddam regime, and his father was killed. He said his story was way too common, and that is why he is doing what he is doing. . . . Anyway, he made me realize that this is where I need to be. I am, of course, coming home; but, you know, war and all. But damn, I feel like I am part of something great and truly going to help a lot of people. . . .
Anyway, the point is, this place is awful and there really is no place I would rather be. Okay, that is all. I will write soon.
Love you, Kent”
Their numbers are small – this newest generation of veterans – compared to those who served in World War I, World War II, Korea, and Vietnam. They will return to us changed from the late-sleeping teenagers we recently knew. They will be comfortable with responsibility and able to make tough decisions under pressure. They will be honorable, compassionate, hard working young Americans.
I read a letter in the paper recently from an Army Major, Roger Carstens, who trains special forces troops. He wrote:
“I remember a young sergeant who graduated not long ago from the Special Forces Qualification Course that I command. He was a poster child for what we in the military call the ‘Pepsi-Nintendo generation.’ When he arrived to join his A-Team with mussed hair and a penchant for incomprehensible street dialogue, some of my instructors questioned whether he’d be an asset to that team.
Not long ago, I caught a photo of him on the front page of a newspaper. He was receiving the Silver Star, America’s third-highest award for bravery, for actions in Iraq.
One day, I will leave the military, turning it over to these Pepsi-Nintendo soldiers. I am not the least bit concerned. . . .
So when you see dome young men and women with strange tattoos and even stranger appearances, rest easy. The future of America is in good hands. . . .”
Our soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines are supported by strong families and communities here at home.
Every year around Thanksgiving, the families of the 150th Tactical Fighter Wing – our National Guard Tacos – serve dinner to the families of all of the people who are deployed. There is turkey and dressing and all of the trimmings. My husband is in the Guard and we went last Saturday night to help out. About 200 family members were there.
The woman who said grace asked, from whence comest my strength? Her family member had been gone only two weeks but it seemed like an eternity to her. And so many others had been gone so much longer. From when comest my strength when the car dies, the kids get sick and the dryer won’t work all in the same week? Holidays are so hard when families are apart.
One of our local high school orchestras was playing music for the event. I was watching the faces of the young people in the orchestra. They had that look that kids get when you penetrate the superficiality of teenage life. They new something very serious was happening around them and seemed somewhat relieved that it wasn’t their fault.
A woman came up to me as the dinner was ending. She was the mother of one of the violin players and said she was thankful that her daughter had a chance to participate.
It is well to remind the American children of privilege, of privilege’s price.
The ideals of a nation rise from the choices and values of individuals. Our newest generation of veterans will be home soon. They join a long heritage of determined, brave, occasionally rowdy, compassionate, freedom loving men and women who have served this great nation in uniform.
Thank all of you for your service.
God bless you, and God bless the United States of America. |
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