[Congressional Record Volume 156, Number 151 (Thursday, November 18, 2010)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E1963-E1964]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                         TRIBUTE TO MILO DEUEL

                                 ______
                                 

                            HON. TOM LATHAM

                                of iowa

                    in the house of representatives

                      Thursday, November 18, 2010

  Mr. LATHAM. Madam Speaker, I rise to recognize Milo Deuel, a World 
War II Army veteran from Boone, Iowa, and to express my appreciation 
for his dedication and commitment to his country.
  The Boone News Republican is currently running a series of articles 
that honors one Boone County veteran every Tuesday from Memorial Day to 
Veterans Day. Milo Deuel was recognized on Tuesday, October 12. Below 
is the article in its entirety:

                   Boone County Veterans: Milo Deuel

                           (By Greg Eckstrom)

       Before going into the service, Milo Deuel had read of a 
     soldier who had been in the civil war and carried a little 
     Bible with him in his breast pocket. The soldier in the story 
     had gotten shot with a mini ball, and the Bible had ended up 
     saving his life.
       So when Deuel joined the Army Enlisted Reserve Corps while 
     in junior college in Missouri, and was called to active duty, 
     he brought with him a small book given to him by his 
     Methodist minister, entitled ``Strength for Service to God 
     and Country.'' As his service brought him around the world, 
     he chronicled the places he had been on the back leaf of the 
     book, serving as a memory for the places he'd gone and the 
     things he'd seen.
       Commonly, veterans have a difficult time recalling 
     experiences from war to non-veterans because it can be a 
     painful experience. Deuel is similar in this way, however his 
     little book provides him reminders with each neatly-printed 
     location and date on the back leaf.
       ``They won't say a thing about it,'' Deuel said. ``My wife 
     says I'm the same way, and the older I got, the more liberal 
     I got with what I did and what happened. But some things that 
     happened I don't really care to think about or talk about.''
       Yet, with the bad comes the good--the camaraderie amongst 
     soldiers, the experience one gains by being a part of history 
     and the stories that come from service.
       Deuel was sent to Camp Roberts in California in 1943, where 
     he was trained for desert warfare. He learned how to endure 
     high temperatures, how to get along with little water and how 
     to shoot, Deuel said. After his training, he was given a 
     short furlough to go home and say goodbye to his family 
     before heading back to the west coast and then overseas.
       Deuel remembered well being stationed in the Guadalcanal 
     Islands and ``distinguishing himself,'' although not in a 
     heroic fashion. Heading home from a movie, he noticed 
     coconuts scattered on the ground around trees, and felt the 
     urge to cut one open and have a drink.
       ``I had never seen a coconut tree before in my life,'' he 
     said. ``I didn't know that when a coconut fell on the ground 
     and laid there several days or weeks, the milk fermented and 
     made a soap-like substance. I ended up in the base hospital 
     in Guadalcanal for 10 days drinking paregoric. It had a 
     terrible taste to it. After a while, about the third or 
     fourth day, it tasted pretty good.''
       From Guadalcanal, he went to Munda, New Georgia, where he 
     ``went on a few patrols.''
       ``I'm glad I didn't have to fight anybody, but that jungle 
     warfare really didn't appeal to me,'' Deuel said.
       Neither did the late-night wake-ups from Japanese aircraft 
     in the area.
       ``They had a big air strip in there covered with white 
     coral,'' he said. ``The Japanese would send a lone plane 
     around midnight two or three times a week to keep us awake. 
     We called him `Midnight Charlie.' He'd come over, and the 
     anti-aircraft guns would open up. They never hit him, but 
     it'd keep us awake.''
       After serving between 6-8 weeks in New Georgia, Deuel was 
     sent to New Zealand, which he described as ``a Godsend.''
       ``It was just like going from green hell to green heaven,'' 
     he said. ``And they treated us like kings down there. One of 
     the great treats was to have fresh milk and ice cream, which 
     we hadn't seen for several weeks.''
       It was during Deuel's four months in New Zealand that he 
     found himself moved to regimental supply--a position that saw 
     him distributing rations to the troops. Pleasing the troops 
     was his job, one that was made easy when the rations were 
     bigger.
       ``I was really popular then, which wasn't very often,'' he 
     joked.
       He then went to Papua New Guinea, followed by a stint in 
     Luzon, where he saw his ``most exciting'' days of his service 
     in the Invasion of Luzon on Jan. 9, 1945.
       Regimental supply was divided into two teams, and offloaded 
     from the troop ship in a bay to a landing craft loaded with 
     large drums that appeared to be filled with gasoline. As the 
     fourth or fifth wave to go in on Jan. 9, Deuel's unit was 
     shelled out and had to wait.
       ``The Japanese had some artillery guns that were hidden 
     back in the hills, and they would let go with those every now 
     and then. We couldn't make the beach, so we sat out in the 
     bay all day and then the following day, the 10th, we went in 
     with no problem at all.''
       It was in Luzon that Deuel said he learned a powerful 
     lesson working with a Filipino crew.
       ``I found there you couldn't judge a man by his color,'' he 
     said. ``Whether he was black or brown or white, it was what 
     was in his heart. I made some good friends with the Filipino 
     people.''
       Deuel recalls one conversation he had with the head 
     Filipino man he worked with--

[[Page E1964]]

     Juan. In the town of Santa Maria, Deuel heard a jazz band 
     marching down the road playing an upbeat song--``Roll Out the 
     Barrel''--that he had heard from Camp Roberts. As the band 
     came within sight, Deuel saw it was a funeral procession--
     escorting the caskets of a mother and child. Shocked, Deuel 
     asked Milo why they didn't play something more mournful.
       ``He said, `Milo, think about it. Do you think that when 
     you die you go to a better place?' I said, `I certainly hope 
     so.' He says, 'That's what we do. We're happy that they're 
     gone out of this d* * * mess that we're in. They're gone to a 
     better place.'''
       Deuel saw promotions quickly in Luzon, going from a buck 
     private to a staff sergeant in four weeks. He was next sent 
     to Japan for six weeks as part of occupation troops after the 
     war had ended, where he had a chance to see ``how effective 
     our bombers had been. There were miles and miles of 
     nothing.'' After those six weeks, he received the news.
       ``Milo Deuel, pack your duffle, get on the next ship. 
     You're headed for home,'' he recalled.
       He traveled back home highly decorated. All in all, he 
     received several awards, including a sharpshooter's badge, a 
     combat infantry badge, the Bronze Star and a presidential 
     citation medal. Upon arriving home, the biggest shock was the 
     guy waiting to greet him.
       ``My greatest surprise coming home, I didn't have a little 
     brother anymore,'' he said. ``That sucker had grown up after 
     four or five years since I had been home. He was as tall as I 
     was.''
       Deuel remained in contact with many of the men he'd served 
     with. He'd seen strong friendships throughout his service, 
     and a wide variety of places, as he'd documented in his 
     little book, which returned home with him. In it, he had 
     filled two of the small pages in the back of the book--each 
     recounting memories of places he had been and things he had 
     seen.
       A good friend from the service he'd lost contact with 
     entered his mind recently, prompting Deuel to look him up and 
     write a letter to the mayor of the man's town--Maiden, North 
     Carolina--to inquire about him. The mayor responded to let 
     Deuel know the man had passed away, but a letter soon 
     followed . . . from the man's daughter.
       ``She said, `Daddy would never tell me a thing about WWII. 
     Tell me what he did,' '' Deuel recalled.
       So Deuel grabbed the book--the one that had stuck with him 
     all through his service--and flipped it open to the last two 
     pages. Looking through the dates, the memories came flooding 
     back, and he began writing. It might be difficult for him to 
     talk about his service, but he wanted to share with the girl 
     what her father had gone through.
       ``There were good days and bad days,'' Deuel said. ``So I 
     copied a lot of this stuff. Each date gave me a remembrance 
     of something that happened to us. So the poor thing knows 
     what her daddy did.''

  I commend Milo Deuel for his many years of loyalty and service to our 
great nation. It is an immense honor to represent him in the United 
States Congress, and I wish him all the best in his future endeavors.

                          ____________________