[Congressional Record Volume 146, Number 23 (Monday, March 6, 2000)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E231-E232]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                  EULOGY OF GENERAL LEONARD F. CHAPMAN

                                 ______
                                 

                          HON. JOHN P. MURTHA

                            of pennsylvania

                    in the house of representatives

                         Monday, March 6, 2000

  Mr. MURTHA. Mr. Speaker, General Chapman was one of the finest 
Commandants of the Marine Corps and General Mundy's comments, which 
follow, are an outstanding tribute to him.

                                 Eulogy

                        (By General Carl Mundy)

       The son of a Methodist minister, Leonard Chapman came up 
     from his birthplace in Key West, to Deland, Florida where he 
     grew up. He graduated from the University of Florida, and was 
     commissioned a lieutenant of Marines in 1935, eight days 
     before I was born. Fifty-six years later, he administered the 
     oath that made me the thirtieth Commandant. Leonard Chapman 
     never outgrew his Southern roots. His Grandfather was a young 
     Confederate soldier from Tennessee who lost a leg in the War. 
     In order to maintain his farm, and to get about comfortably, 
     he trained his horses to a gait we know as the Tennessee 
     walking horse. General Chapman never abandoned that family 
     homestead, keeping the 1790 tavern on the Natchez Trace--
     today a National Historic Landmark--as a farmhouse in the 
     hands of a caretaker. He stayed there a couple of months each 
     year, usually in June and July. A call on the telephone to 
     him would get an answer from Miss Ella, the caretaker's wife. 
     ``Yallow!'', she would answer, and after you had identified 
     yourself as wanting to speak with ``The General'', came 
     ``Hold on a minute'', followed by the sound of a squeaking 
     screen door, and a loud call: ``Fielding; there's a fellow 
     wants to talk to you on the telephone over here!''. Grass 
     roots.
       General Chapman's heroes were Robert E. Lee, and ``Lee's 
     Lieutenants''. He read voraciously, re-reading several times 
     Douglas Southall Freeman's volumes on the soldier-leaders of 
     the Confederacy. He won the hand of a Southern Belle--Miss 
     Emily Walton Ford, of the Birmingham Fords. Had this grand 
     lady not become a Marine wife, it's likely she would have 
     claimed the role of Scarlet O'Hara in ``Gone With the Wind''. 
     As it was, she brought the elegance and graciousness of the 
     ``Old South'' into the Corps with her, and eventually to the 
     Home of the Commandants. Leonard's love affair with Emily was 
     life-long, and his quiet devotion and attentiveness to her 
     during her prolonged illness before death were an inspiration 
     to all of us who knew them. He lost his first son, Len--a 
     Marine--to a tragic accident, and became to his daughter-in-
     law, Gayle, and his granddaughter, Danielle, the
       Working their way through Duke in the early sixties enroute 
     to the Corps, as their Officer Selection Officer, I can 
     recall judging whether the Chapman boys had been, or were 
     headed home for a visit, by the length of their hair! In more 
     recent years, how excited, and filled with pride your dad's 
     voice would become when he would announce that he was ``. . . 
     going up to Massachusetts for a few days to help Walt clear a 
     little timber!'' His pride in each member of his family, his 
     joy in your accomplishments, and his devotion to, and love 
     for you were palpable and inspirational.
       I met General Chapman when I was a first lieutenant, and 
     he, a brand new Brigadier General. We were in the field at 
     Camp Lejeune, and I recall thinking that this was the 
     sharpest Marine officer I had ever seen. My opinion never 
     changed. His early years of sea-duty at the outset of world 
     War II left him with a spit and polish that never left. On 
     the day he retired, he was still the sharpest Marine officer 
     I've ever known. Others must have had the same opinion, like 
     General Lemuel Shepherd, our 20th Commandant, who ordered him 
     to the Marine Barracks in Washington, where among his lasting 
     legacies is the spit and polish precision and the unexcelled 
     spirit and professionalism he created in the Evening Parades 
     at the Barracks, and the Marine Corps War Memorial. Leonard 
     Chapman's manner, his demeanor, and his character matched the 
     perfection of his deportment and appearance. He was a 
     gentleman in all respects. At the outset of his commandancy, 
     a reported called him ``The Quiet Man''. Those closest to him 
     knew him to have been invariably courteous; never to have 
     raised his voice in anger, never to have indulged in gossip, 
     or never to have bad-mouthed or criticized even those with 
     whom he might disagree. But they knew him also, to have an 
     analytic mind that missed no detail, and a layer of tungsten 
     steel determination just below the surface. He was tough, but 
     he led by logic, character, and inspiring example.
       In his final tours, as Chief of Staff of the Corps, he 
     helped General Wallace Greene build, train, equip, and employ 
     in combat in Vietnam the largest Marine Corps since World War 
     II. He introduced computers to the Corps, and gave us 
     automated management and information systems. When he became 
     Commandant, the war was on a downward spiral, and the United 
     States wasn't going to win. Throughout his tenure, his 
     abiding determination was to bring the Corps home in fighting 
     condition, and to preserve it as a spirited American 
     Institution. He faced obstacles in a society where the 
     profession of arms and answering the call to duty were under 
     fire, and in which morals, accountability, and discipline 
     were decaying. He responded by driving the Corps to maintain 
     standards.
       When Sister Services succumbed to societal pressures and 
     relaxed standards

[[Page E232]]


       He believed in education. As Commandant, he established 
     Staff NCO Academy, and in retirement, was founder of the 
     Marine Corps Command and Staff College Foundation, with the 
     purpose of enhancing leadership development among the 
     officers and NCOs of the Corps. He led the Foundation as its 
     President for 14 years, leaving yet another legacy to 
     leadership.
       But there was a spirited and fun-loving side to this great 
     man. He was an inveterate golfer, playing the game with skill 
     and enthusiasm to the end. Until recent years, he was a seven 
     handicap. He would tell with a chuckle the story of an 
     officer on whom he wrote a glowing fitness report, but ended 
     it with, ``. . . but he can't putt!'' He walked the course, 
     carrying his bag, and referred to those in his foursome who 
     chose to ride a cart as ``couch potatoes''. Even with his 
     spirited humor, however, the courtly, gentlemanliness was 
     ever there. As he and I played golf together one day, after a 
     particularly humiliating tee shot where, with a mighty swing, 
     I topped the ball and dribbled it into the rough about 
     seventy-five yards out, we walked together in silence for a 
     few moments before he offered, gently, ``Carl, that was not 
     among your better shots today!'' Classic Chapman. He loved 
     the Washington Redskins, and rarely missed a game, always, of 
     course, making it first to church on a Sunday. He delighted, 
     when the minister asked the congregation to greet and extend 
     ``Peace'' to those beside them, in saying instead, ``War!'' 
     if it were a Redskins Sunday! Noting that his team entered 
     the playoffs last weekend, maybe that was one ``for the 
     General!''
       Commandants have an occasional habit of gathering their 
     ``formers'' at some point during their tenures to update on 
     what's going on. This usually begets spirited discussions of 
     how it used to be, how it might better be, or how it ought to 
     be. General Chapman, usually the elder at such gatherings, as 
     the tempo of suggestions from around the table increased, 
     would delight in breaking in, good naturedly, but with 
     meaning, to say, ``If you junior officers will hold it down, 
     I'll remind you that each of you had the chance to do what 
     you're suggesting on your watch. Let's listen to what the 
     Commandant has to say!''
       Linda and I, with Gayle and General Chapman, were guests 
     for dinner at John and Ginny Kinniburg's home a few years 
     back. As Ginny was busily passing her wonderful dishes, the 
     butter came by. Always concerned for the welfare of ``The 
     General'', for whom she and John so devotedly never gave up 
     being aides-de-camp for, and closest friends with, Ginny 
     handed General Chapman the butter with the healthful comment, 
     ``I don't suppose you'll be having any butter, General, but, 
     please pass it along''. With a wry twinkle in his eye, 
     General Chapman took a sizeable slice for his bread, and 
     quipped, ``No, Ginny; I'm going down with the ship!''
       Leonard Fielding Chapman, Jr.--husband, father, 
     grandfather, friend, gentleman, Marine--did not go down with 
     the ship. He was the helmsman who steered his life, many of 
     ours, and that of our Corps, through sometimes troubled 
     waters, but with a steadiness that brought calm inspiration, 
     personal strength, and legacy to us, and thousands of others. 
     As we remember him, let us be grateful that America produced 
     one among its ``few good men and women called Marines'', who 
     we were privileged to know and love. Men of the stature of 
     Leonard Chapman do not often pass this way.

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