[Congressional Record Volume 151, Number 106 (Friday, July 29, 2005)]
[Senate]
[Pages S9431-S9432]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                     GENERAL LOUIS HUGH WILSON, JR.

  Mr. WARNER. Mr. President, I rise to recognize and pay tribute to GEN 
Louis Hugh Wilson, Jr., U.S. Marine Corps, 26th Commandant of the 
Corps. General Wilson was the embodiment of everything the Marine Corps 
and our Nation stands for. I am honored to read the eloquent eulogy 
delivered by General Carl Epting Mundy, Jr., U.S. Marine Corps, 30th 
Commandant of the Corps, delivered in the Old Chapel, Fort Myer, 
Virginia, 19 July 2005, in General Wilson's memory.
  I ask unanimous consent to print this tribute in the Record.
  There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

               Eulogy for General Louis Hugh Wilson, Jr.

                  (By General Carl Epting Mundy, Jr.)

       Three years after I graduated from the Basic School at 
     Quantico, I was ordered back to become an instructor. I 
     reported to the adjutant, who informed me that the commanding 
     officer was absent for a few days, but would return the 
     following week. He advised, further, that it was the 
     colonel's policy to address all newly forming companies of 
     lieutenants on the first day of training, which would occur, 
     coincidentally, on the day of his return, and that I should 
     be there.
       At 0700 on the prescribed day, I mustered with a half-dozen 
     instructors and couple of hundred new lieutenants in the 
     outdoor classroom just in front of the headquarters building. 
     Precisely at 0715, the front door opened and a tall, rangy, 
     all-business-looking colonel walked out. We were called to 
     attention, then put at ease and given our seats. The colonel 
     spoke for probably no more than 8 to 10 minutes, citing what 
     was to be accomplished and what was expected of the 
     lieutenants in the next 6 months. He concluded by saying: 
     ``While you're here, you'll find many things that are wrong . 
     . . that are not to your liking . . . not the way you would 
     do them--and you'll find yourselves talking about how `they' 
     ought to change this or that . . . and how `they' just don't 
     understand the problem. When you have those thoughts or 
     discussions'' he went on, ``I want you to remember: I . . . 
     am they!''
       He stood looking at us for probably no more than 5 seconds, 
     which seemed like minutes. Not a head turned; not an eye 
     blinked, and I'm sure 200 second-lieutenant minds were 
     working in unison to figure out how they could go through 26 
     weeks of training without ever once uttering the word, 
     ``they''!
       This was my first association with then-COL Louis Wilson. 
     Like a few others, the ``I am they'' assertion became pure 
     ``Wilsonian'' over the years, and like me, I suspect that 
     many here this morning have heard it on more than one 
     occasion. It contained a little humor, but it also 
     characterized the man as the leader he was: ``I am `they'; 
     I'm in command; I'm responsible; I give the orders.''
       Even beyond his years in the Corps, these characteristics 
     continued. His good friend, Bill Schreyer--chairman of the 
     board of Merrill-Lynch when General Wilson served, after 
     retirement, as a director of that company--tells the story of 
     a board meeting at which a particularly difficult issue was 
     being deliberated. After considerable discussion, during 
     which a number of thoughts and ideas emerged, but without 
     definitive resolution of the issue, Director Wilson said, 
     ``Mr. Chairman, if Moses had been a member of this board, 
     instead of ``The Ten Commandments'', we would have wound up 
     with ``The Ten Suggestions!''
       Louis Hugh Wilson, Jr., was born and grew up in Branson, 
     MS. His father died when he was five, and those family 
     members who knew him then characterized him--even as a small 
     boy--as exhibiting a clear feeling of responsibility for his 
     Mother and sister. He worked at a variety of jobs throughout 
     his school years to help with their support. After graduation 
     from high school, he enrolled at nearby Milsaps College, 
     majored in economics, ran track, played football and joined 
     the ``Pikes''--Pi Kappa Alpha Fraternity.
       In the summer after his freshman year, he and a buddy took 
     a job laying asphalt over the dirt and gravel roads of 
     Mississippi, and while working one day, a car passed, 
     carrying an attractive local high school graduate named Jane 
     Clark. ``I sure would like to get to know that girl,'' Louis 
     remarked to his buddy. ``No chance, Lou, she's taken,'' his 
     friend answered.
       Wrong answer! Within a short time, Lou and Jane were 
     dating, and by the time she followed him a year or so later 
     to Milsaps, they were courting. When he graduated in 1941 and 
     went off to officer candidate training in the Marines, and 
     then into the war in the Pacific, they ``had an 
     understanding,'' and she waited. They became ``Captain and 
     Mrs. Wilson'' 3 years later, when he returned from 
     hospitalization after the battle for Guam.
       Captain Wilson got a bride, but the Corps got one of its 
     most gracious future first ladies--one beloved by all who 
     have had the privilege of knowing her--but none more so than 
     the Wilson aides-de-camp over the years to whom she became 
     known as ``President of the Aides' Protective Society'' with 
     an occasional early morning call just after the General 
     departed quarters for the office, wishing them--in her soft, 
     Southern manner--``a wonderful day--even though it may not 
     start that way!''
       Throughout their career, and to the present, Jane has been 
     an inspiring role model to all of us in both the good and the 
     hard times. Indeed, a legion of Marines are glad that Lou's 
     friend on the hot asphalt road in Mississippi in 1938 was 
     wrong when he predicted: ``No chance, Lou.''
       Captain Wilson's action on Guam was the beginning of the 
     many highlights in his career. I was privileged to be on the 
     island with him in 1994 for the 50th anniversary of its 
     liberation, and while there, walked the battleground on Fonte 
     Hill with him where he remembered and described every move as 
     he assembled and maneuvered the remnants of his company and 
     those of the other companies of his battalion to secure the 
     heights. Only then . . . having been wounded three times . . 
     . did he allow treatment of his wounds and medical 
     evacuation.
       The following day, I hosted a sad ceremony at Asan Point--
     near the beach where, 50 years earlier, he had landed. 
     Because of mandated personnel reductions in the Corps--the 
     9th Marines--the regiment in which he had served on Guam--was 
     being deactivated. As its proud battle color was furled, 
     General Wilson placed the casement over it.
       There is, however, a humorous sequel to this event. Enroute 
     back from Guam, we stopped in Hawaii to attend the change of 
     command of Marine Forces, Pacific. The day allowed time for a 
     round of golf before the ceremonies that evening. As General 
     Wilson and I were having breakfast before teeing-off, a 
     retired marine--red baseball cap and all--came over to our 
     table to warmly greet the general. Turned out they had been 
     in the 9th Marines together, and the conversation turned 
     quickly to something like this: ``Lou, who's this new 
     Commandant that's doing away with the 9th Marines? What does 
     he think he's doing? You need to get hold of him and 
     straighten him out!''
       The breakfast could have undoubtedly been more entertaining 
     for those around us had he done so, but without introducing 
     me, General Wilson graciously responded that he knew it was a 
     tough decision, but that were he still Commandant, he 
     probably would have had to make the same one. He wished his 
     retired friend a good game, and sat back down to breakfast 
     with a wink and big grin for me. I was grateful to have 
     ``They'' on my team that morning!
       Throughout the decades of service that marked his career, 
     Louis Wilson established the reputation of a firm, but fair 
     leader who was devoted to the welfare and readiness of 
     marines and would lay his career on the line for them; who 
     asked straight questions and expected no ``off the record'' 
     answers or hidden agendas; and who, while he could show 
     understanding, did not easily suffer fools.

[[Page S9432]]

       During his tenure as Commanding General of Fleet Marine 
     Force, Pacific, as North Vietnamese forces closed in, the 
     evacuation of the U.S. Embassy in Saigon was ordered, using 
     ships of the U.S. Seventh Fleet and embarked marines from 
     Okinawa, including then-COL Al Gray's 4th Marines. As the day 
     wore far longer than had been planned due to the panicky 
     influx of hundreds more evacuees than the embassy had planned 
     for, the operation continued through the night and into the 
     wee hours of the following morning.
       About 3 a.m., word came into the command center in Hawaii 
     that the Seventh Fleet Commander had signaled that the 
     helicopter crews which had been flying since early that day 
     had reached their administrative maximum allowed flying hours 
     and that he intended to suspend flight operations to allow 
     crew rest, even though a hundred or more marines still 
     remained in the besieged embassy.
       Although he was not in the direct chain of command for the 
     operation, an infuriated General Wilson immediately sent back 
     a message stating that under no circumstances would such an 
     order be given, that Marine helicopters would continue to fly 
     so long as marines remained in Saigon, and that if the 
     Seventh Fleet Commander issued such an order, he, Wilson, 
     would personally prefer court martial charges against him. 
     The order was never issued, the helicopter crews kept flying, 
     and the remaining marines were evacuated.
       A year later found the Secretary of Defense looking for a 
     new Commandant, and ``Wilson'' was a name high on the list. 
     While many important people are involved in the naming of any 
     new Commandant, there are a couple who merit special note in 
     this case.
       The Wilsons had become very happy in Hawaii, and nearing 
     the point at which his career might come to an end, he had 
     been extended a lucrative job offer; Janet was a senior in 
     high school; and Jane had found a ``Dream House'' on the 
     slopes overlooking Wailai Golf Course and the blue Pacific. 
     As the likelihood of his being nominated to become Commandant 
     took shape, the Wilsons sat down for a family conference to 
     discuss the choices. After a brief discussion, Janet brought 
     a decisive end to their deliberations when she said, ``Dad, 
     you've talked for a long time about all the things that are 
     wrong in the Marine Corps. This is your chance to fix them.'' 
     He thought for a moment, and then responded, ``OK, we'll do 
     it.'' And so, perhaps history should record that it was Miss 
     Janet Wilson who, as much as anyone, brought us the 26th 
     Commandant!
       But there was another player who should not go without 
     note. When the selection was made, Secretary of Defense Jim 
     Schlesinger directed an assistant to ``get General Wilson in 
     Hawaii on the phone.'' Moments later, the assistant reported, 
     ``Sir, he's on the line''. Schlesinger picked up the phone 
     and said, ``Lou, I'm delighted to inform you that the 
     President has selected you to be the next Commandant of the 
     Marine Corps.'' There was a pause, and the voice at the other 
     end of the line responded, ``Sir, I'm deeply honored by your 
     call. I've always had great admiration for the Marines, but 
     do you really think I'm qualified to become Commandant?'' 
     Schlesinger's assistant had dialed the Commander of Pacific 
     Air Forces in Hawaii--also a Lieutenant General named Lou 
     Wilson!
       A few minutes later, when the right Wilson was reached, 
     Schlesinger repeated the same congratulatory message, but 
     ended by saying: ``However, Lou, you should know that my 
     first call turned me down!'' So perhaps--in the spirit of 
     jointness--we also owe the U.S. Air Force a debt of 
     gratitude!
       Lou Wilson became Commandant at a time when the Corps 
     needed him. Fewer than 50% of those who filled our ranks were 
     high school graduates. Illegal drug use was rampant. 
     Lingering Vietnam era recruiting had brought a fair number of 
     criminals into the Corps. Riots and gang intimidation were 
     common. His comment when he assumed command, set the stage 
     for his attack on these problems: ``I call on all marines to 
     get in step and do so smartly!''
       His tenure as Commandant would be marked by firm 
     initiatives to ``get the Corps in step'' again. Overweight 
     marines, ``high-water'' trousers, shaggy haircuts, and 
     moustaches became early points of focus. The word went out: 
     ``If I see a fat marine, he's in trouble--and so is his 
     commanding officer!'' More than a few commanders got early 
     morning calls from the Commandant that began: ``Who's minding 
     the store down there? Seems like you might be looking for a 
     different line of work!'' Prompt administrative discharges 
     from the Corps for ``those who can't, or don't want to 
     measure up to our standards'' were authorized. The Air-Ground 
     Combat Center at 29 Palms came into being to cause marines to 
     prepare for the next war, instead of the last one--and it 
     might be recalled that the ``next big one'' after Vietnam was 
     in the desert sands of Kuwait, and the Combined Arms 
     Exercises at 29 Palms were the training grounds.
       The Wilson years, and those that followed would rehone the 
     Marine Corps into what it remains today--the finest military 
     organization in the history of the world.
       But if Fonte Hill on Guam, and the Medal of Honor was the 
     early signature of Lou Wilson, it may be that his enduring 
     mark on the Corps--and our entire joint military 
     establishment--is that which he achieved in his final 
     ``Hill'' battle near the end of his tenure as Commandant.
       A quarter-century earlier, after a period of intense debate 
     as to the role of the Marine Corps in the national defense 
     establishment, the National Security Act had made the 
     Commandant of the Marine Corps a ``part-time'' member of the 
     Joint Chiefs of Staff only when matters of Marine Corps 
     interest were at issue. This denigration of the Corps to 
     second-class citizenship had long been an insult and 
     irritation. Within the organization of the Joint Chiefs, a 
     policy existed that when the chairman was absent from 
     Washington, the next ranking chief would assume authority as 
     ``acting chairman''.
       In early 1978, the Chairman and all other chiefs of 
     service, except General Wilson, were absent from Washington. 
     A memorandum from the Director of the Joint Staff indicated 
     that in the absence of the chairman, and the Chiefs of the 
     Army, Navy, and Air Force, the vice chief of staff of the 
     Army was appointed ``acting chairman''. An irritated 
     inquiry from the Marine Corps gained a response from the 
     Director that ``the Commandant cannot be appointed acting 
     chairman because he is only a part-time member of the 
     Joint Chiefs.''
       Like when Miss Jane Clark drove by four decades earlier--
     already with a ``steady'' and ``no chance''--or when the 
     Seventh Fleet Commander was about to suspend flight 
     operations: Wrong Answer!
       General Wilson quietly and without fanfare, took the issue 
     to Capitol Hill, and when the 1979 Defense authorization bill 
     came out, it contained a provision that made the Commandant 
     of the Marine Corps a full-fledged member of the Joint Chiefs 
     of Staff.
       Indeed, the legacy achieved by its 26th Commandant for the 
     Corps sits before us today. Without Lou Wilson's personal 
     perseverance and victory, it is not likely that GEN Pete 
     Pace, the chairman designate, or GEN Jim Jones, the Supreme 
     Allied Commander in Europe, or GEN Jim Cartwright, the 
     combatant commander, U. S. Strategic Command, would be in 
     their positions today. Lou Wilson elevated his Corps from a 
     bureaucratic, second-class category to co-equal status with 
     every other branch of the armed services . . . and his 
     country--and the profession of those who bear arms in its 
     defense--will be forever the beneficiaries.
       And so, as we assemble today to bid farewell to one of the 
     true giants of our Corps and our Nation, let us do so with 
     gratitude that America produces men the likes of Louis 
     Wilson--and that ``they'' choose to become Marines. Semper 
     Fidelis

  Mr. President, I would like to associate myself with these 
exceptional remarks by General Mundy. I recall my modest service in the 
Marine Corps during the Korean War and later as Secretary of the Navy, 
where I witnessed firsthand the impact of General Wilson's efforts in 
the Corps. His tremendous legacy will forever challenge future Marines 
to become part of the best fighting force on the Earth. While I am 
saddened by the General's passing, I am proud that America produced 
such a fine gentleman who valiantly answered the call to defend these 
United States. Recalling our national anthem, I say, we would not be 
``the land of the free'' were we not also the ``home of the brave.''

                          ____________________