[Congressional Record Volume 146, Number 142 (Wednesday, November 1, 2000)]
[Senate]
[Pages S11460-S11461]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




        TRIBUTE TO TEXAS SAILORS LOST ABOARD THE U.S.S. ``COLE''

  Mrs. HUTCHISON. Mr. President, I rise today to talk about a very sad 
time. It has been a sad time for America. I want to focus on the 
sadness in Texas.
  Mr. President, last week Texas laid to rest three of her sons, killed 
in the terrorist attack on the U.S.S. Cole. Seaman Timothy Gauna of 
Rice, Petty Officer Ronchester Santiago of Kingsville, and Fireman Gary 
Swenchonis of Rockport, were killed in the October 12 disaster.
  Since then, I have visited with the families of these three sailors. 
I met with some of them at the Cole memorial service in Norfolk, VA. 
Fine, loving individuals, they are trying, as we all are, to make sense 
of the senseless.
  These young men had their lives ahead of them. They wanted to go to 
college, to travel, to raise their own families. They volunteered for 
the Navy because they loved their country and wanted to give something 
back, and now they are gone.
  It may not be possible for us to understand the magnitude of this 
loss to the families involved.
  Can we know the anguish of Mr. Swenchonis, whose son Gary was laid

[[Page S11461]]

to rest in the same cemetery as Gary's grandfather? A son with just 2 
months left on his enlistment?
  Will we ever understand the loss of Rogelio Santiago, a Navy veteran 
himself, who was planning a trip with his son Ron to his native 
Philippines in December?
  Have we ever experienced the bewilderment of Sarah Gauna, who said 
she would never hang up the phone with her boy until she had made him 
laugh, as she waited days to learn the awful truth about Timothy?
  We cannot feel the depth of sorrow of these families, but we are all 
diminished by their loss because U.S.S. Cole was a small patch of 
American soil and on that patch we lost our own.
  Today, as we come and go in our ordinary routine, life is anything 
but routine for those they left behind.
  Today, the U.S.S. Cole, crippled but proud, has begun the long 
journey home. She is under tow for a rendezvous with another larger 
vessel that will literally carry her home to America.
  The ship is cold. It is dark and quiet. But the spirit of the fallen 
Texans and the 14 others who lost their lives carries on in the valiant 
efforts of their 300 shipmates. They saved the ship and they mean to 
rebuild it to fight another day.
  In the words of her Commanding Officer, ``We're going to get this 
ship back home [and] put back together so that she can again sail and 
defend American freedom throughout the world.''
  That is exactly what is going on today in so many other distant 
places across the globe. Today we remember the Cole, but she was just 
one representative of a proud service that is still on watch.
  Today as most Americans get up for work, have breakfast with their 
families, perhaps attend a son or daughter's school play or athletic 
event, we may not think much about the tens of thousands who left their 
families alone on a pier months ago to sail into harm's way, expecting, 
but not really knowing for sure, if they would come home.
  Just today--November 1--on, over, or under the seven seas, more than 
41,000 sailors and marines are standing watch on the bridge of a 
warship, landing aircraft onto the deck of a carrier, manning nuclear 
power plants leagues beneath the surface, training to land ashore from 
the sea.
  These thousands do not count a much greater number ashore who repair 
the ships, maintain the aircraft, and perform a host of other 
activities that mark an ordinary day in the life of a superpower.
  Those young men and women are out there serving under our flag in 
places where they are not always welcome but whose presence is 
reassuring.
  Every once in a while, we hear from them. Not when they are landing 
their fighter onto the rolling deck in pitch blackness, scared but 
exhilarated all the same. We do not read about it when they bring their 
ship alongside an oiler, two 10,000-ton machines just 90 feet apart at 
15 knots for 3 hours replenishing their stores at sea to extend the 
reach of freedom.
  There are no cameras there for the 19 year-old Marine guard at the 
gate of the overseas naval installation at 3 o'clock in the morning who 
must decide in an instant whether the vehicle approaching him is loaded 
with explosives or is just a shipmate coming back from liberty.
  They do not seek our recognition, but at times, that is demanded of 
us. Unfortunately, now is one of those times. At a time such as this, 
we cannot believe what we see but we marvel at the courage and 
dedication of these young people.
  I received an e-mail message that has been circulated around the 
world, shared with me by Knox and Kay Nunnally, whose son attends the 
Naval Academy. A helicopter pilot from the U.S.S. Hawes recorded what 
he saw when he was assigned the task of taking airborne photos of the 
stricken Cole pierside in Yemen, just days after the tragedy. His words 
bring home to us just what it is we ask of our sailors and marines:

       I will tell you that right now there are 250-plus sailors 
     just a few miles away living in hell on earth. You can't even 
     imagine the conditions they're living in, and yet they are 
     still fighting 24 hours a day to save their ship and free the 
     bodies of those still trapped and send them home.
       As bad as it is, they're doing an incredible job. The very 
     fact that these people are still functioning is beyond my 
     comprehension. Whatever you imagine as the worst, multiply it 
     by ten and you might get there.
       I wish I had the power to relay to you what I have seen, 
     but words just won't do it. I do want to tell you the first 
     thing that jumped out at me--the Stars and Strips flying. I 
     can't tell you how that made me feel . . . even in this God 
     forsaken hell-hole our flag was more beautiful than words can 
     describe.
       The U.S.S. Cole and her crew is sending a message: even 
     acts of cowardice and hate can do nothing to the spirit and 
     pride of the United States. I have never been so proud of 
     what I do, or of the men and women that I serve with as I was 
     today.

  Mr. President, it has been said that young fighting men and women 
don't endure the risks they do for such lofty goals as patriotism, 
freedom, democracy, or all the other reasons why older generations send 
young generations into war.
  Rather, these young men and women fight for the buddy next to them in 
the foxhole; in the next bunk over; in the back of the cockpit.
  If that is so, then there can be no greater honor for Timothy Gauna, 
Ron Santiago, and Gary Swenchonis than that their sad and painful 
deaths force us to remember, through them, their shipmates and all the 
other thousands of American fighting men and women who are out there 
doing the extraordinary everyday, just so that we can live our everyday 
lives.
  As we remember the words of the Navy Hymn, we honor the memory of 
these three Texans by calling to mind those they left behind:

     O hear us when we cry to thee, for those in peril on the sea.
  Mr. President, I yield the floor and suggest the absence of a quorum.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER (Mr. Gregg). The clerk will call the roll.
  The assistant legislative clerk proceeded to call the roll.
  Mr. BIDEN. Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the order for 
the quorum call be rescinded.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. Without objection, it is so ordered.
  Mr. BIDEN. Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent to proceed in 
morning business for 10 minutes.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. The Senator is recognized.

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