[Congressional Record Volume 153, Number 148 (Tuesday, October 2, 2007)]
[Senate]
[Pages S12392-S12393]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]
IRAQ
Mr. DURBIN. Mr. President, 2 months ago, I traveled to Afghanistan,
Pakistan, Kuwait, and Jordan. I also traveled to Iraq with my colleague
Senator Casey of Pennsylvania. We went to talk to and listen to our top
generals and diplomats but, equally important, the soldiers and marines
on the front lines of this war.
This was the third time for me visiting Iraq, the first time for
Senator Casey. Two impressions really struck me. More than either of my
earlier visits, I felt overwhelmed by the tragedy that has been created
in that country for Iraq, for its neighbors, for America's image around
the world, and, sadly, for our troops.
I was also awed and deeply moved by the skill and bravery of our
troops and their love for this Nation. In a time when sacrifice seems
outdated to some people, our troops are willing to endure almost
inconceivable hardship and risk everything to protect us and our
Nation.
When I visited Iraq, it was 120 degrees. Soldiers wore heavy body
armor and backpacks and carried their ammunition, their weapons, had
helmets on, drinking water every chance they had to try to stay
hydrated and not suffer from heat exhaustion which had claimed the life
of one of our soldiers just the day before.
Soldiers who knew who I was asked me occasionally when the
politicians in Washington were going to start voting so they could come
home. Despite the unbearable heat, the constant danger, longings for
home, not one soldier I met in Iraq ever complained about walking point
for America--not one.
We went 10 miles south of Baghdad to a place called Patrol Base
Murray. I ate lunch with some Illinois soldiers from the 3rd Infantry
Division out of Chicago, Aurora, Jacksonville, and Elmhurst. Most were
on their first deployments. One was on his third. Half were married
with kids. They try to keep in touch with things back home through e-
mails, but it is tough.
They were laughing at me as I fumbled around trying to open up my
MRE, a can of chicken and noodles with a built-in heater. I never quite
got it right. I am glad I gave them some comic relief there, at least
for a few minutes.
On August 11, after I came back home, 1 week after I visited this
patrol base, two Illinois soldiers stationed there died in a roadside
bomb explosion, along with two other soldiers, in a place called Arab
Jabour. All four soldiers were assigned to the 3rd Infantry Division
based in Fort Stewart, GA.
The Illinois soldiers lost were SPC Justin Penrod, 24 years old, of
Mahomet; and SGT Andrew Lancaster, 23, of Stockton. They are 2 of the
146 sons and daughters of Illinois who have died so far in this
conflict.
The same day they died, a fifth soldier from the 3rd ID died in Arab
Jabour in a separate incident, while a sixth was killed in an IED blast
in Afghanistan. Six soldiers dead in 1 day. Sadly, such grim numbers
don't even make the big headlines anymore. After losing 3,800, I guess
somebody who runs these newspapers and television stations decides it
is not big news. For some people, the daily toll of soldiers killed and
wounded in Iraq seems to have just become another statistic, like the
weather, but not to the devastated families of these fallen soldiers,
not to the children who will grow up never knowing their fathers or
mothers who have died in this war, and not to the men and women with
whom they served.
A week after SGT Andrew Lancaster died in Iraq, his platoon
commander, 1LT Benjamin Kim, wrote me a letter about a man he
considered a gifted leader and a brother. I have never met Lieutenant
Kim. I can't imagine why he sent this to me, other than to share deep
feelings that he just couldn't leave inside. He wanted someone else to
read them. I really trust, based on what that letter contained, that he
would not mind if I read his words into the record about his fallen
comrade. The letter is dated August 18, 2007.
Dear Senator Durbin: My name is Benjamin Kim, and I am
assigned to the 2nd Brigade, 3rd Infantry Division as an
infantry officer. By the time you receive this letter it will
have been a number of weeks since you came to Iraq and
visited my unit. If you recall, you came to Patrol Base
Murray in southeast Baghdad near a village called Arab
Jabour, and you met some soldiers from Illinois serving here.
One of these soldiers was a man named SGT Andrew Lancaster,
and he was a squad leader in my platoon. He was killed in
action on 11 August 2007, and as I write this letter, he and
the bodies of four other soldiers who died with him that day
are being prepared for transportation back to the United
States.
The lieutenant went on to say:
The purpose of this letter is not to seek any political
action. Nor is it to recount the grizzly details that
resulted in the untimely deaths of five of my finest soldiers
and subordinate leaders. I do not seek to achieve anything,
except perhaps to communicate to you my boundless respect for
the men who serve with me in this remote corner of the world.
I will probably never meet you, and I shall make no plans to
do so, but I find it oddly therapeutic to write to a man of
your station and rank in an earnest and sincere manner.
Whether you personally read this letter or not is irrelevant;
as I write this I am finding temporary reprieve from my
sorrow.
He goes on to write:
Andrew Lancaster was the iconic ``Man of the Midwest.'' He
was a pragmatist and he valued common sense and integrity as
two of the most important traits a leader should have. He was
straightforward with everything he said, and he was never
afraid to speak his mind on issues that mattered to him. And
yet, despite any of the pressures and frustrations that
encumber a leader in combat, he kept his head cool and his
professionalism was always above reproach.
He relentlessly pursued our elusive enemy with an intellect
that any general would envy. There were countless times where
he and I, and other leaders of the platoon, would discuss
various tactics and methods we should apply in our mission,
and more often than not we found ourselves listening
attentively to his analysis of the situation.
He was also compassionate. In one instance, he spearheaded
a platoon-level effort to capture a man who we suspected to
be an IED emplacer and a high ranking insurgent in our area
of operations. When we finally caught him, the insurgent knew
he'd be going away for a long time. 'Caster, as we called
him, gave him a final opportunity to kiss his family goodbye.
He was a soldier of the highest caliber, and yet his
humility offered a pleasing contrast to his confidence in his
own abilities. For all the times he furthered the interests
of our platoon, I wanted to nominate him for a bronze star
with a V-Device. His response was always the same--``I don't
really care about awards. I just want all of us to go home
alive and intact when these 15 months end.'' He was
posthumously awarded his bronze star along with a purple
heart; nevertheless, how ironic it is that the true heroes
never want to claim themselves as such.
In his personal life, 'Caster was strongly devoted to his
family. He would always sing
[[Page S12393]]
high praises for his wife and high school sweetheart,
Tabbatha; whose outstanding cooking he would attribute both
woefully and wistfully the weight gain he experienced a month
before deployment. He loved her tremendously, and whenever we
weren't ``talking shop'' her name was his constant refrain.
He would also speak reverently of his brother. We would
listen to his stories about growing up in small town Illinois
and laugh with him about all the trouble he and his brother
would get into.
When he came to my platoon, he welcomed young soldiers who
were far from their families to his home frequently, be it
for Thanksgiving dinner or for a few beers or a football
game. He made our platoon his family, and we will always
cherish that bond.
I don't know what I planned to accomplish by writing this.
All I know is that this man was like a brother to me, and I
feel like I have to memorialize him somehow. He taught me a
lot of things that I need to know about being a good platoon
leader, and even now his legacy lives on in the soldiers he
once led and the outstanding ways in which they conduct
themselves.
I hope that I have given you a somewhat accurate picture of
the man we loved, but I have a sneaking suspicion that there
are no words eloquent enough to describe him. Nevertheless, I
thank you in advance for taking the time to read this. Keep
fighting the good fight, and we here will do the same.
Respectfully, 1LT Benjamin Kim.
SGT Andrew Lancaster of Stockton, IL, enlisted in the Army with a
friend in 2002 to protect America after September 11. Before Iraq, he
served as a paratrooper in Afghanistan with the Army's 173rd Airborne
Brigade.
In Stockton, IL, a small town with a population of about 1,800,
Sergeant Lancaster was known as Andy, the kid everybody loved, and his
death really hit the folks in that community hard.
At Freeport High School, where he graduated in 2002, where he stood
out in football, basketball, and choir, his teachers and coaches recall
Andy Lancaster as an outgoing and responsible young man who had a way
of making everyone around him happy.
When the news of his death reached that town, the high school
football team posted a tribute to Sergeant Lancaster's family on its
message board. Messages of support were also posted at the local ice
cream shop where Sergeant Lancaster's young widow Tabby once worked.
In addition to a town and a wife who loved him, Sergeant Lancaster
leaves behind his mom and his stepfather, Donna and Steve Vanderheyden;
his father Harlan Lancaster; a brother, two step-sisters, and his
grandparents.
He and Tabby married just before Sergeant Lancaster left for
Afghanistan, and they planned to start a family when he came home.
Instead, last month, Tabby Lancaster attended a ceremony at Fort
Stewart at which 10 trees were planted in honor of her husband and nine
other members of the 3rd Infantry Division who died recently in Iraq.
Since 2003, a total of 369 trees have been planted along the base's
memorial walk.
Mr. President, I regret I never had a chance to meet Andy Lancaster,
but I have met so many soldiers just like him. They are natural leaders
who probably succeed at whatever they choose to do in life. They
certainly could have made a lot more money and lived far more
comfortably, but they chose to enlist to defend our country.
Those are the kind of people we are losing every day in these wars in
Iraq and Afghanistan. Like Andy Lancaster, each of them leaves a hole
in the hearts of those who loved them and in the heart of our Nation.
We honor their sacrifice and grieve their loss.
In a few minutes, Mr. President, we will start debating the Defense
appropriations bill. It is a critically important bill. As a member of
the Appropriations Committee, I know a lot of the discussion about this
bill will be about numbers. This little statement that I have made on
the floor, reading into the record the letter of Lieutenant Kim about
his fallen sergeant, really takes this discussion and debate way beyond
numbers. It reminds us of 3,800 brave soldiers, such as Andy Lancaster,
who have given their lives for America, soldiers whose lives continue
to be lost every single day that we continue this war.
I stand today in tribute not just to Sergeant Lancaster but to all
the men and women who continue to serve us with such honor and dignity.
I hope all of us who value and cherish the contributions they make will
remember them in our hearts and our prayers and our votes.
Mr. President, I yield back morning business time.
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