[Congressional Record Volume 155, Number 135 (Wednesday, September 23, 2009)]
[Senate]
[Page S9729]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]


                           A REAL PATRIOT ACT

  Mr. LIEBERMAN. Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the 
article titled ``A Real Patriot Act'' by Dan Gerstein be printed in the 
Record.
  There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

                    [From Forbes.com, Aug. 19, 2009]

                 Dangerous Thoughts--A Real Patriot Act

                           (By Dan Gerstein)

       In this hothouse season of health care hollering, the most 
     popular rallying cry seems to be ``Read the bill!'' But I 
     would suggest that every politician--and, really, every 
     American--would be better off taking a break from the 
     accusations and acrimony of the moment to read about Bill. 
     That would be Marine Corps Sgt. Bill Cahir, who was killed in 
     action in Afghanistan last week, and whose immense sense of 
     service stands out as a one-man antidote to the cynicism and 
     selfishness that pervades our politics.
       You almost have to read Bill's story to believe it. The son 
     of two civic-minded parents from outside State College, Pa., 
     Bill went to Washington right out of college to work on 
     Capitol Hill (where I met him about a dozen years ago). When 
     the partisanship and shallowness became too much to bear, he 
     opted for another form of public service, taking a job as a 
     reporter covering his home region of Pennsylvania from D.C. 
     But after the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, something 
     gnawed at him. He did not feel right sitting on the 
     sidelines. His country had been attacked, as one friend told 
     me, and he felt the overriding need to do something about it.
       So after a long internal struggle over how to heed this 
     calling, and fairly soon after meeting the woman he would 
     marry, Bill Cahir, at age 34, joined the Marine Corps 
     Reserves.
       ``We all thought he was crazy,'' said another friend. So 
     did the Corps commanders. They were so incredulous that a 34-
     year-old reporter would give up his cushy life for a sure 
     ticket to Iraq that they made him take a psychological test 
     to prove he was of sound mind. His drill instructors at 
     Parris Island were equally suspicious. They thought he was 
     there to write an expose, or that he might have a hero 
     complex. So they punished him with special fervor, trying to 
     break him. But they misjudged Bill.
       ``People kept asking him, `You know what you're doing, 
     right?' '' one of the friends I interviewed said. ``But he 
     knew exactly what he was doing. He knew he was going to Iraq. 
     He not only knew it, he embraced it.''
       And the Marines who served with Bill on his two tours in 
     Iraq, including a highly dangerous stretch in Fallujah and 
     the Anbar province as part of the ``surge'' strategy, 
     embraced him in return. None of them questioned his motives 
     (or that he once worked for Ted Kennedy).
       ``All I know [is] that he loved his Marines and we loved 
     him,'' said Jason Brezler, Bill's team commander in Fallujah 
     in 2006 and 2007. ``I'm sure you've heard the whole notion 
     that it isn't necessarily the U.S. flag that calls Marines to 
     duty, but the love for their fellow Marines. I know that he 
     would have risked life and limb for any of us on the team, 
     because I watched him do it on countless occasions. And I 
     know that the relationship was reciprocated by us in 
     return.''
       ``What amazed me about Bill was his consistent positive 
     attitude,'' said Maj. Dan Whisnant, a former company 
     commander in the 24th Marines. ``Bill and I spent hours 
     talking to Sheiks, children and the locals, and his sense of 
     service to these people was infectious. He personally was 
     going to create a better life for these folks. I remember him 
     playing with one of the Sheiks' young sons, and you could 
     sense that the two had connected. Bill's sense of service, 
     attitude and example to the younger Marines was something to 
     behold.''
       Brezler noted that Bill's maturity was also a tremendous 
     asset to their unit's mission. ``Bill was a smart and 
     compassionate warrior. There were instances where he could 
     have employed his weapon against a group of kids who had 
     attacked our convoy with grenades, but he exercised 
     tremendous discipline and did not engage them, because he 
     knew that the second- and third-order effects outweighed the 
     immediate results.'' Brezler says he often tells this story 
     when explaining effective counterinsurgency. ``Many 
     Americans--and even some in uniform--just don't get it,'' he 
     said.
       That was vintage Bill. He always did things the right way. 
     A colleague of his at the Lehigh Valley Express-Times, Tony 
     Rhodin, wrote that his favorite memory of Bill was from 
     election night 2000, when Bill came down from Washington to 
     help cover the campaigns on the ground. While everyone was 
     riveted by the unresolved presidential race, Bill was still 
     working the phones at 5 a.m., trying to get the latest 
     results of an equally close congressional contest in the 
     area. ``He was here. There was news. It was the right thing 
     to do.''
       So was running for Congress. When Bill returned from his 
     second tour in 2007, he could have easily returned to 
     journalism and settled down with his wife, Rene, to start a 
     family. But he still burned to serve. He decided to go back 
     to his hometown region and compete for the Democratic 
     nomination in the Fifth District. His heroism in Iraq and his 
     family's deep roots in the community were well-known to 
     voters. But Bill was still concerned about being labeled a 
     carpetbagger. To show his commitment to the community, he 
     bought a home there. ``This is important,'' he said to 
     friends.
       So too was going to Afghanistan in March with his unit, the 
     Fourth Civil Affairs Group. After losing the congressional 
     primary last fall, Bill went to work as a consultant. When he 
     got called up again by the Marines, he could have avoided 
     going to a hot spot. Instead, he sought it out. ``This is 
     what I signed up to do,'' he explained in an e-mail he sent 
     out to his disbelieving friends.
       I read about Bill last Friday, the day after he was killed 
     by enemy fire in the Helmand province, a Taliban stronghold 
     and the site of some of the heaviest fighting in Afghanistan, 
     less than a week before the country's national election. It 
     hit me in a deeply personal, visceral way. Bill was one of 
     the most decent, genuine people I had ever known in 
     Washington, and I remember speaking with him last summer 
     about his campaign. I was crushed to hear that his wife was 
     pregnant with twin girls, and that they would never get to 
     know their honor-defining father.
       But more than that, it made me truly realize, in a way that 
     only the death of a friend and peer can, just how much we in 
     politics take for granted the men and women who fight our 
     wars for us. Not all of us, and certainly not all the time. 
     But unless you have lost someone close to you, our recent 
     military actions--especially the ``forgotten war'' in 
     Afghanistan that took Bill's life--rarely and barely touch 
     us. They are at best debate subjects, and at worst political 
     footballs.
       It also made me think about how the word ``patriotism'' has 
     been demeaned and cheapened by blind partisans on both sides 
     questioning their opponents' ``American-ness.'' Perhaps if 
     our leaders read about Bill, and learned more about what love 
     of country really means from his example, they would think 
     twice before casually hurling these hurtful accusations 
     again.
       Fortunately, word about Bill's remarkable story is 
     spreading--he was the subject of a moving segment on Hardball 
     Monday. And his family and friends have paid tribute to his 
     memory by setting up a memorial fund to help assist his wife 
     and their twins.
       I heard from many of Bill's loved ones (some of them mutual 
     friends, some of whom I had never met) in preparing this 
     tribute, and none of them could fully explain where his 
     overwhelming commitment to service came from. Bill was not 
     one to toot his own horn. ``He would probably be embarrassed 
     by all this attention and being called a hero,'' one friend 
     told me.
       But while they may not have understood its source, they 
     more than appreciated his impact, the lives he saved and the 
     lives he touched. Perhaps the most fitting elegy came from 
     Bill's brother Bart. ``I won't offer any anecdotes,'' he 
     said, ``but rather a quote that I think summarized his life 
     from Ben Franklin: `If you would not be forgotten as soon as 
     you are gone, either write things worth reading or do things 
     worth writing.' My view is that my brother did both.'' Semper 
     fi, indeed.

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