[Congressional Record Volume 144, Number 140 (Thursday, October 8, 1998)]
[Senate]
[Page S12021]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                          REMEMBERING VETERANS

 Mrs. FEINSTEIN. Mr. President, I rise today to make a few 
remarks about the distinguished service of United States veterans. As 
Veterans Day approaches, we look forward to honoring the men and women 
who have served this country with bravery, honor, and valor. I am 
submitting, for my colleagues, a May 28, 1998 article from the Los 
Angeles Times written by Patty Andrews, one of the Andrews Sisters. The 
Andrews Sisters spent much of World War II entertaining the young men 
who fought so courageously in Europe, the Pacific, Africa, and other 
parts of the world. In this stirring piece, Ms. Andrews details the 
service and sacrifices of all of those who contributed to the war 
effort, and describes how she and her sisters helped to build morale 
and comforted the wounded.
  The article follows:

               [From the Los Angeles Times, May 25, 1998]

           Bugle Boys of Company B Died To Keep America Free

                           (By Patty Andrews)

       My sisters and I probably met face to face with more 
     soldiers in World War II than any general or field marshal. 
     The Andrews Sisters entertained tens of thousands of GIs at 
     bases here and abroad throughout the war and I can still see 
     so many of their smiling American faces. I sometimes wonder 
     how many of those faces made it home safely and how many are 
     now just faint memories. I'll carry their memory for as long 
     as I live. But then what? With nothing to publicly 
     commemorate those GIs, their deeds will be forgotten.
       The faces of the survivors are now creased and seasoned by 
     the years--but they still smile when they see me. And I see 
     them all the time, in airports and shopping malls. The 
     veterans of global war are living their autumn years happily, 
     oblivious to the fact that they are walking history.
       We have a common bond. We were all soldiers in the greatest 
     war ever. And we share a knowing wink--if you weren't there 
     you'd never understand the terror of total war or 
     exhilaration of saving the world from evil incarnate. I guess 
     I remind the veterans that it all really happened, that it 
     wasn't some hazy memory, that they answered the call and 
     succeeded beyond all expectation. They won a victory so 
     complete that we hardly remember a time when America wasn't a 
     superpower or the most prosperous nation on Earth or one of 
     the few remaining democracies standing against a global gang 
     of dictators. Today we take it all for granted.
       Those who died to make it possible for us to forget that 
     brutal era would no doubt be satisfied that their sacrifice 
     was worth it. But they were so young. The soldiers who were 
     in their late teens and early 20s. So young that the shows 
     had the flavor of a huge high school football game or a Boy 
     Scout jamboree. Nearly half a million of these brave kids 
     would never know if we won or lost the war or how 50 years of 
     peace and prosperity would transform their country. Their 
     faces will always be innocent and brave, but unknowing.
       My sisters and I were innocent too, but not for long. We 
     cheered the boys as they left for war but we also welcomed 
     back the wounded and shattered. Those are some of the faces I 
     will never forget. In one San Francisco hospital ward we were 
     briefed about what we were about to see, and we were told not 
     to show too much emotion. Behind the doors of that dire ward 
     were young faces contorted with pain or frozen and mute. The 
     sight of these boys--no different than the thousands of 
     others we entertained except that they had been chewed up and 
     spat out by the maw of war--brought home to me the absolute 
     horror of war and the enormity of our debt to them.
       In that frightful infirmary we talked, sang and tried to do 
     something--anything--to bring a moment of pleasure, maybe a 
     smile or a look of hope that life will somehow be better. I 
     tried but could not begin to match their contribution. None 
     of us can ever fully repay those boys who sacrificed their 
     youth so we could forget such horror existed. But we need to 
     try.
       Today, before the memories fade and before the last veteran 
     dies, we need to enshrine their courage. We need a permanent 
     place to honor the generation that gave so much so long ago. 
     We need a memorial that matches their monumental sacrifice 
     and their towering devotion to freedom. In short, we need an 
     official World War II Memorial on the National Mall in 
     Washington. The site has already been selected--all we need 
     now is the will to build it.
       Helping to build morale and comfort the wounded through our 
     music changed and fulfilled my life, as it did the lives of 
     my sisters, Laverne and Maxene. We were privileged to know so 
     many courageous men and women willing to give their lives for 
     freedom. It's ironic that because of their sacrifice, we can 
     use words like ``freedom'' and ``democracy'' today without 
     having to measure their cost. We must honor those brave young 
     people who paid the price.

                          ____________________