[Congressional Record Volume 141, Number 123 (Thursday, July 27, 1995)]
[Senate]
[Pages S10790-S10792]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]


                     KOREAN WAR MEMORIAL DEDICATION

  Mr. LEAHY. Mr. President, the Korean war was known as ``the Forgotten 
War'' to some because it followed so closely on the heels of World War 
II, and because it was in many ways overshadowed by the divisive 
Vietnam conflict. I never liked that expression, because I know too 
many people whose lives were forever changed by Korea. I prefer to 
think that the Korean war not as a forgotten war, but as an 
unremembered war. For too many years we ignored the great sacrifice 
made by millions of Americans in a rugged land far away from our 
shores. As of today, the Korean war is unremembered no longer.
  This afternoon I was honored to attend the dedication of the new 
Korean War Memorial, and it is a worthy addition to our Nation's 
Capital. The memorial is centered around 19 haunting statues created by 
Vermont sculptor Frank Gaylord. His depiction of tired American 
soldiers marching in a loose formation toward a common goal manages to 
capture perfectly the heroic qualities of our soldiers without 
glorifying war.
  While I was moved by the memorial and the ceremony today, the moments 
I will treasure most occurred this morning at a breakfast I hosted for 
Vermont veterans and Mr. Gaylord. These Vermonters came from all parts 
of the State. They came by airplane, they came by car, and they came by 
14-hour train ride. One group came after driving all night long. They 
came with their families, their foxhole buddies, and by themselves. 
Most of these Vermonters served in different units, and many had not 
met before today. They came to Washington to stand for hours in the 
terrible summer heat, all to pay tribute to events that happened over 
40 years ago.
  I realized this morning, as these veterans gathered in my office, 
that any inconvenience suffered by travel or weather meant nothing to 
them. Their sense of duty to comrades past and present brought them to 
Washington, and as long as there was life in their bodies they would 
come. The history books tell us that 46,246 Americans died in the 
Korean war, that 103,284 were wounded, and that millions more served. 
All of them are finally being recognized today. It is with humility 
that I offer my profound gratitude to those who answered the call and 
gave so much to preserve freedom.
  Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that recent Washington Post 
articles about the Korean War Memorial be printed in the Record.
  There being no objection, the articles were ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

               [From the Washington Post, July 22, 1995]

 A March to Remember, Moving Monument to Korea Veterans Surpasses the 
                     Tortured History of Its Design

                          (By Benjamin Forgey)

       When the Korean War Veterans Memorial is dedicated next 
     Thursday--the 42nd anniversary of the armistice ending the 
     war--veterans and their families will be celebrating an honor 
     long overdue.
       They can also celebrate a work of beauty and power. Given 
     the tortured history of the memorial's design, this seems 
     almost a miracle. But there it is. Situated on proud symbolic 
     turf southeast of the monument to Lincoln, in equipoise with 
     the Vietnam Veterans memorial to Lincoln's north, the Korean 
     memorial is a worthy addition to the national Mall.
       Despite some big flaws, our newest memorial is incredibly 
     moving. And what could have been its most glaring weakness--a 
     column of realistically sculpted soldiers in combat 
     formation--turned out to be its major strength. Unheralded 
     sculptor Frank Gaylord of Barre, Vt., created 19 figures that 
     are convincing individually and as a group.
       It is a case of art rendering argument superfluous. There 
     were obvious dangers in the concept of a memorial featuring a 
     column of battle-ready soldiers. If excessively realistic, 
     they could be off-putting. If strung out in too orderly a 
     row, they could be deadeningly static. And yet, if 
     inordinately animated, they could be seen as glorifying war. 
     Indeed, in one of Gaylord's early versions, they came 
     perilously close to doing just that.
       But in the end, none of this happened. Placed dynamically 
     on a triangular field of low juniper shrubs and cast in 
     stainless steel at a scale slightly larger than life, these 
     gray, wary troopers unself-consciously invite the empathy of 
     all viewers, veteran and non-veteran alike.
       The sculptures and triangular ``field of service'' are one 
     of three major elements in the memorial. With an American 
     flag at its point, the field gently ascends to a shallow, 
     circular ``pool of remembrance'' framed by a double row of
      braided linden trees. There also is a ``memorial wall.'' 
     Made of huge slabs of polished black granite, each etched 
     with shadowy faces of support troops--nurses, chaplains, 
     supply clerks, truck drivers and so on--the 164-foot wall 
     forms a subtly dramatic background for the statues. High 
     on the eastern end of the wall, where it juts into the 
     pool of water, is a terse inscription: Freedom is not 
     free.
       The memorial was designed by Cooper-Lecky Architects of 
     Washington--although, in an important sense, the firm acted 
     like the leader of a collaborative team, Important 
     contributions were made by Gaylord and Louis Nelson, the New 
     York graphic designer of the memorial wall, and also by the 
     Korean War Veterans Memorial Advisory Board and the reviewing 
     agencies, especially the Commission of Fine Arts.
       Not to forgotten are the four architects from Pennsylvania 
     State University who won the design competition back in the 
     spring of 1989--John Paul Lucas, Veronica, Burns Lucas, Don 
     Alvaro Leon and Eliza Pennypacker Oberholtzer. This team 
     dropped out after it became apparent that its original design 
     would have to be altered significantly to pass muster with 
     the advisory board, reviewing agencies and others. The team 
     sued, and lost, in federal court.
       Key elements of the competition design remain in the final 
     product--particularly the central idea of a column of 
     soldiers moving toward a goal. But the finished product is a 
     big improvement over the initial scheme. It's smaller and 
     more accommodating--not only was the number of soldiers cut 
     in half (the original called for 38 figures), but also a vast 
     open plaza was eliminated in favor of the contemplative, 
     shaded pool. It's easier to get into and out of--the clarity 
     of its circulation pattern is outstanding. Its landscaping is 
     more natural--among other things, the original called for a 
     grove of plane trees to be clipped ``torturously,'' as a 
     symbol of war. The symbolism of the memorial is now simple 
     and clear.
       Still, Cooper-Lecky and the advisory board went through 
     many versions, and many heartbreaks, on the way to getting a 
     design approved--and the finished memorial shows the strain 
     of the long, contentious process. It cannot be said that this 
     memorial possesses the artistic grandeur and solemnity of the 
     Lincoln Memorial. It does not have the aesthetic unity of 
     Maya Lin's Vietnam Veterans wall. It is not quite so 
     compelling a combination of the noble and the everyday as 
     Henry Merwin Shrady's Grant Memorial at the other end of the 
     Mall. But this is to put the new memorial in elevated 
     company--together with the Washington Monument, these are our 
     finest expressions of memorial art. To say that the Korean 
     War memorial even comes close is a tribute.
       Without question, its worst feature is a sequence of 
     parallel strips of polished black granite in the ``field of 
     service.'' Unattractive and unneeded, they threaten to reduce 
     the soldiers' advance to the metaphorical level of a football 
     game. And on one side of the field, they end in obtrusive, 
     triangular blocks of granite, put there to discourage 
     visitors from walking onto the granite ribbons. The junipers 
     may in time cover the strips--at least, one can hope--but 
     these bumps, unfortunately, will remain bumps.
       The wall gets a mixed review. A clever if somewhat 
     shameless adaptation of Maya Lin's idea--with faces rather 
     than names etched in--it honors support troops, who always 
     outnumber those on the front lines. It 

[[Page S 10791]]
     is beautifully made. The heads are real ones from photographs in Korean 
     War archives, digitally altered so that the light source is 
     always coming from the direction of the flag. The etching is 
     wonderfully subtle: The faces seem to float in a reflective 
     gray mist. The wall tugs the heartstrings, for sure, but it's 
     also a bit obvious, a bit much. It has the feel of a 
     superfluous theatrical trick.
       Fortunately, the wall does not interfere too much with the 
     sculpture, which from the beginning has been the primary 
     focus of this memorial. It was
      an extraordinary challenge, one of the great figurative 
     commissions of the late 20th century, and Gaylord came 
     through. To walk down from the Lincoln Memorial and catch 
     a first, apparitional glimpse of the soldiers, as they 
     stalk from under the tree cover, is quite a thrill. Even 
     from a distance and from the back, the gray figures are 
     compelling.
       And, as choreographed on that field, they become more 
     compelling the closer you get until, with a certain shock, 
     you find yourself standing almost within touching distance of 
     the first figure; a soldier who involves you in the movement 
     of the patrol by turning his head sharply and signaling--
     Beware!--with the palm of his left hand. He is a startling, 
     daring figure and, with his taut face and that universal 
     gesture of caution, he announces the beginning of a tense 
     drama.
       It is an old device, familiar in baroque painting and 
     sculpture, to involve the viewer directly in the action by 
     posture, gesture, facial expression, Gaylord adapted it 
     masterfully here: The figures look through you or over your 
     shoulders, enveloping the space beyond the memorial with 
     their eyes. The air fairly crackles with the vitality of 
     danger. The soldiers communicate tersely among themselves, 
     too--in shouted commands or entreaties, and subtly connected 
     gestures and glances.
       The most critical contact, though, may be that first one, 
     between the visitor and that initial soldier. His mouth is 
     open--you can almost hear him hissing an urgent command. You 
     slow down, and then you behold the field before you. There is 
     fatigue and alertness everywhere you look. Each figure and 
     each face is as charged as the next. Appropriately, the gray 
     metal surfaces are not polished and shined. Gaylord's rough 
     treatment of the matte surfaces adds to the nervous intensity 
     of the piece.
       It is quite a feat to give such figures such a feeling of 
     movement--they're only walking, after all, and they're 
     carrying heavy burdens. But Gaylord performed that feat, 19 
     times--he proved himself a master of contrapposto, and other 
     time-honored sculptural technique. Underneath the gray 
     ponchos and the weight of the stuff on their backs, these 
     figures twist from hip to shoulder and neck. Some shift 
     dramatically, some just enough, so that the ensemble takes on 
     an extraordinary animation. Every gesture seems perfectly 
     calculated to reinforce the irony. These ghostly soldiers in 
     their windblown ponchos seem intensely real.
       Dedicated to the concepts of service, duty and patriotism, 
     the new memorial stands in sharp contrast to its companion 
     across the Reflecting Pool. But the Korean and Vietnam 
     memorials make a complementary, not a contradictory, pair. In 
     honoring the sacrifices of soldiers in Vietnan, Lin's great 
     V-shaped wall invokes a cycle of life and death, and 
     physically reaches out to the Mall's symbols of union and 
     democracy.
       The Korean War Veterans Memorial is more straightforward, 
     and speaks directly of a specific time and place. Yet it 
     attains an unmistakable universality of its own. Gaylord's 
     soldiers (and Marines and airmen) served in Korea, yes. But 
     they also stand unpretentiously for the common soldiers of 
     all wars.
               [From the Washington Post, July 23, 1995]

   Out of History, Onto The Mall, Korean War Memorial To Be Dedicated

                  (By Anthony Faiola and Lena H. Sun)

       In the nation's capital, the forgotten war is forgotten no 
     more.
       The $18 million Korean War Veterans Memorial opens Thursday 
     on the National Mall, honoring the men and women who fought 
     in an international conflict many Americans still view as an 
     afterthought, lost between the scope of World War II and the 
     upheaval of Vietnam.
       The stoic arrangement of stainless-steel statues, a mural 
     wall and a circular reflecting pool officially takes its 
     place as the fifth major memorial on the Mall, southeast of 
     the Lincoln Memorial and across from the Vietnam Veterans 
     Memorial. It arrives after seven stormy years of lawsuits and 
     conceptual bickering that almost doomed the project.
       ``This is not a graveyard or a glorification of war,'' 
     retired Col. William Weber, 69, said as he surveyed the 19 
     statues of white, black, Korean and American Indian soldiers 
     that make up the core of the memorial. When reflected in the 
     black granite mural wall, their numbers double to 38--
     symoblizing the 38th parallel established as the border 
     between North And South Korea in 1945.
       ``It is a remembrance of a group of veterans who have 
     fallen into their twilight years and who are still tragically 
     forgotten by too many people'' in this country, said Weber, 
     who lost his right arm and leg to a hand grenade in Korea and 
     is among those veterans who doggedly lobbied for the 
     memorial.
       More than four decades after the war ended, organizers of 
     the memorial are trying to make up for the lack of public 
     recognition. There will be six days of ceremonies and events, 
     beginning tomorrow, to honor America's 5.7 million Korean 
     War-era veterans and those from the 21 other countries who 
     served under the banner of the United Nations command in 
     Korea.
       The three-year Korean War was an inconclusive, bloody 
     conflict, the first modern war in which the United States had 
     to accept a compromise solution in the form of an armistice 
     agreement. The conflict intensified the Cold War mentality, 
     destroyed Korea and solidified the divisions between North 
     and South Korea.
       More than 54,000 U.S. military personnel and more than 
     58,000 South Korean military personnel
      died in the war, according to the U.S. Army Center for 
     Military History. Millions of Korean civilians perished; 
     virtually every Korean family was affected.
       For many ordinary Americans, the conflict is best known 
     because of the adventures of Hawkeye and Hot Lips in the 
     popular movie and television series ``M*A*S*H'' two decades 
     later. But during the war, there was little front-page 
     coverage. When the soldiers returned home, they slipped back 
     into society. There were no parades, no celebrations.
       ``I came back on a Friday, and I started back up at work 
     the following Monday,'' said Raymond Donnelly, 67, of 
     Arlington, a machine-gunner with the 24th Infantry Division 
     who spent 10 months on the front line before returning to a 
     printing apprenticeship in Massachusetts.
       President Clinton and South Korean President Kim Young Sam, 
     who is arriving on a state visit Tuesday, will preside over 
     the dedication of the memorial Thursday, the 42nd anniversary 
     of the armistice. Officials are expecting a crowd of about 
     100,000 many of them Korean War veterans and their families, 
     as well as representatives of the countries that fought under 
     the U.N. command, Retired Gen. Chang Pae Wan, who commanded 
     the defense of Seoul during the war, will lead the South 
     Korean delegation, which will include about 400 veterans.
       Among the other highlights of the week's events is a troop 
     muster of war veterans--only the second such mass gathering 
     of troops in U.S. history--that will be addressed by the 
     Joint Chiefs of Staff.
       In the Korean American community have criticized South 
     Korean participation in the memorial, however. Of the $18 
     million raised in private money, nearly $3 million came from 
     U.S. subsidiaries of South Korea's largest companies, 
     including $1 million each from Samsung and Hyundai.
       Richard Nahm, an interpreter who writes for Korean-language 
     newspapers published in the United States, said the South 
     Korean government should pay more attention to domestic 
     problems, such as polluted drinking water and the recent 
     collapse of a Seoul department store that killed 450 people, 
     instead of encouraging companies to contribute to a memorial 
     that primarily honors U.S. war dead.
       A spokesman for the South Korean Embassy dismissed the 
     criticism. South Korea had considered canceling Kim's trip to 
     Washington because of the department store collapse but 
     decided to proceed because the visit had been long planned, 
     he said.
       The memorial reflects the primary role of U.S. ground 
     troops, featuring seven-foot statues of combat-ready soldiers 
     as one of its key elements. The soldiers are spread over a 
     field of juniper bushes. Behind them is a 164-foot wall with 
     the faces of nurses, cooks, chaplains, other support troops 
     and even the canine corps. The photographic images were 
     culled from Korean War archives and sandblasted onto the 
     black granite.
       Opposite the mural are the names of all the countries that 
     served under
      the U.N. command. The field slopes up to a circular ``pool 
     of remembrance.''
       The Korean War Veterans Memorial didn't come easily.
       Its creation was rooted in the frustrations of a group of 
     Korean War veterans, including members of the 25th Infantry 
     Division, that in 1985 made a pilgrimage to Seoul to confront 
     their ghosts, said Dick Adams, past president and a board 
     member of the Korean War Veterans Association Inc., which was 
     founded in 1985.
       ``We were not like the vets of Vietnam,'' Adams said. ``We 
     were the forgotten people of a forgotten war, and we weren't 
     ready to let ourselves go down in history in that way.''
       The group was further stirred to action a year later when 
     the Vietnam Veterans Memorial was dedicated. On Oct. 28, 
     1986, their efforts paid off: President Ronald Reagan 
     approved a resolution authorizing the American Battle 
     Monuments Commission to erect a Korean War Veterans Memorial 
     on the Mall.
       The generosity of the private sector in donating money was 
     challenged by setbacks, however.
       An initial design contest was won in 1989 by four 
     professors from Pennsylvania State University. They sued the 
     federal government and lost after the design was altered by 
     D.C.-based Cooper & Lecky Architects, the architects of the 
     Vietnam memorial.
       The memorial was reconfigured. The number of statues was 
     cut from 38 to 19. Instead of lining up in a single file, for 
     easy visitor access, the larger-than-life statues were placed 
     in a field of juniper bushes to create the air of rough 
     terrain and to remove them from the public's reach.
       The memorial will be open to the public at 4 p.m. Thursday 
     and will remain open 24 hours a day. Organizers say the wait 
     will be 

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     long for those who wish to visit the memorial immediately because of 
     the large crowd expected at the dedication.
       By last week, the advisory board was receiving about 2,000 
     telephone calls an hour because of overwhelming interest in 
     the memorial and related events, a spokesman said.
       For local veterans, such as Donnelly, the memorial will be 
     a final resting place for his memories. Besides the fear and 
     the fighting, there is the food that Donnelly will always 
     associate with the war: the Spam, Babe Ruth candy bars, black 
     olives and saltine crackers he and other soldiers devoured 
     when they were not on the front line.
       His most enduring the memory is of the bone-chilling winter 
     cold, when temperatures often plunged well below zero.
       ``That's why I say the first miserable rotten night we have 
     here, when it's cold and rainy and snowy,'' Donnelly said, 
     ``I want to go down [to the Mall] and walk through those 
     statues, because that's what it was like.''
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. The Senator from Michigan.
  Mr. LEVIN. Mr. President, what is the pending business?
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. We are in morning business, I believe.
  If there is no further morning business, morning business is closed.

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