[Congressional Record Volume 141, Number 157 (Wednesday, October 11, 1995)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E1923-E1924]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




            REMEMBERING ALL THOSE WHO SERVED IN WORLD WAR II

                                 ______


                           HON. MARCY KAPTUR

                                of ohio

                    in the house of representatives

                      Wednesday, October 11, 1995

  Ms. KAPTUR. Mr. Speaker, today in this joint session of Congress 
commemorating the victory of freedom in the 20th century, as we 
remember and honor all those who served in World War II, I want to 
introduce to the House a veteran, a woman, a pilot who served as a 
Women Airforce Service Pilot, Lois M. Nelson of Ohio's Ninth District. 
Lois is a remarkable woman. A pilot before joining the service, she 
flew our B-17s, B-24's and many other planes from the factories to the 
front where they could do some good. She also flew planes that had been 
on the front back to the repair hangers and recalls ``you could smell 
the odor of combat on them; you knew where they had been.'' Lois and 
the more than one thousand other Women Airforce Service Pilots 
performing an invaluable and, unfortunately often overlooked, service 
in America's war effort. Let us remember them today. Lois represents 
all veterans from our community who are being commemorated here. Her 
life reminds us all of the treasured values of duty, honor, and 
country.
  Last August 26, the citizens of Lucas County held a ceremony 
establishing our community as a World War II Commemorative County. That 
commemoration was graced with Lois's poignant remarks, and I ask that 
those remarks be printed at this place in the Record on the occasion of 
the 50th anniversary of the Allied Victory.

       As a Nation, and as a people, we are always available to 
     celebrate war. Flesh against flesh, blood against blood, and 
     steel against steel. We mark with pride the winning of war, 
     but with our ego centered on victory. Equally we turn our 
     collective back on war if there is no winner.
       Turn back to the ending of the war in Korea. Remember that 
     February day when Viet Nam released and returned prisoners, 
     was it victory when Gerry Denton stepped off the plane and 
     held Jane in his arms for the first time in over seven years? 
     It was for Denton, but not for America.
       We celebrate victory perhaps, because we have never learned 
     to celebrate peace.
       When I came home to Tucson after my time in the service of 
     my country, my road was perhaps different from yours, and 
     yours, 

[[Page E 1924]]
     not because I am a woman, because no sooner was the ink on my 
     separation papers dry--than I was, along with so many other 
     women, lost in the bright light of victory in Asia and in 
     Europe.
       My return raised more eyebrows than salutes. The question 
     of patriotism lost in the questions. A widow at 20, a reason, 
     perhaps. A call to do what was needed to be done, a need to 
     compete, anything you can do--I can do better. Or was it a 
     legacy of generations of soldiers and sailors--a bloodline.
       An uncle in South Africa and winning the Victoria Cross--
     dead in the Battle of the Marne in France. Cousins in the 
     Battle of Normandy and in the landings in the Pacific. A 
     brother in the North Atlantic on the run to Murmansk in 
     Russia. Are my genes less willing? Willing to take the oath. 
     Any less willing to work for victory? Parades! Celebrations! 
     And perhaps--thanks for the peace.
       But no parades, no thanks, only the challenge that comes 
     from the feeling, as soon as I took off that uniform, put my 
     wings in a drawer and visited my mother's grave; that I was 
     overcome by the feeling, my service had stepped into the 
     glare of challenge, and somehow, never cast a shadow.
       Like many other women who answered the call, heard the 
     challenge, we marched home to the sound of muffled drums and 
     vanished. Over the past few years the drums have picked up 
     the beat. Was it Desert Storm? Or was it the women in gun 
     ships, on bomb runs. Or was it the shadow of the women in the 
     1940s who hit the flight lines running--who heard the call.
       Was it my cousin who, as a nurse, lead the children into 
     safe haven from the bombing in Liverpool. Or was my cousin 
     who commanded an ack ack battery near Dover and who met the 
     ragged convoy coming from France and to find her badly burned 
     brother in those wounded.
       My challenge to myself, and to you today, will be to pledge 
     to volunteer for peace. To extend that hand that covers your 
     heart and reach out to help. Help the fallen and the falling. 
     To steady the step of those who have lost the way. Take the 
     time to share--time--with those who have only the memory of 
     other times. To wage a war for peace!
       Hear again the call to volunteer--when you raise your right 
     hand to pledge your life, your energy, your compassion to win 
     the peace.
       As veterans we share a common thread of willingness to be 
     counted. Our Nation is calling on you again to be counted. 
     Get out of the back row and step up front. Into the front 
     lines, get the facts. Get the ammo of involvement and get off 
     your fences and fight for the right to be an American. A 
     nation that shows the way with people--not with the gold of 
     treasury--the strength of industry--but a people who are 
     celebrating peace--hearing and healing.
       I am proud of my American birth, I must also thank the 
     warriors my family gave me in my heritage. A heritage I 
     pledged for war and continue to pledge--again--for peace.
       My husband, of only four weeks, name is on this monument. I 
     honor his name and will not forget his sacrifice.

                          ____________________