[Congressional Record Volume 156, Number 172 (Tuesday, December 21, 2010)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E2211-E2213]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                        AN EXTRAORDINARY SPEECH

                                 ______
                                 

                            HON. JOE WILSON

                           of south carolina

                    in the house of representatives

                       Tuesday, December 21, 2010

  Mr. WILSON of South Carolina. Madam Speaker, I submit the following 
for the Record:

       What follows is an abridged transcript from The American 
     Thinker by Alan Fraser of an extraordinary speech given by 
     Lieutenant General John F. Kelly USMC on November 13, 2010. 
     What renders it so is that General Kelly's son, First 
     Lieutenant Robert Michael Kelly, was killed in action in 
     Sangin, Afghanistan only four days before Lt. Gen. Kelly gave 
     this speech. Lt. Gen. Kelly's eldest child is also a U.S. 
     Marine.
       The American Thinker wrote earlier about this incident to 
     which the general refers in his speech of Corporal Jonathan 
     Yale and Lance Corporal Jordan Haerter. Recall that it 
     occurred at a time when it appeared that our troop surge in 
     Iraq had perhaps stabilized what had been for several years a 
     horrific situation. Now think about how that troop surge--in 
     fact, the entire war--would have been viewed had fifty of our 
     Marines been massacred in their sleep on that April night in 
     2008. And finally, as we are in the season, it's good to 
     remind ourselves that it is only because of men like Yale, 
     Haerter, Gen. Kelly, and his brave sons that we are able to 
     celebrate our holidays and not those of our enemies.

                [Semper Fi Society of St. Louis Speech]

                    (By LTG Kelly on Nov. 13, 2010)

       Nine years ago two of the four commercial aircraft took off 
     from Boston, Newark, and Washington. Took off fully loaded 
     with men, women and children--all innocent, and all soon to 
     die. These aircraft were targeted at the World Trade Towers 
     in New York, the Pentagon, and likely the Capitol in 
     Washington, D.C. . . . Three found their mark. No American 
     alive old enough to remember will ever forget exactly where 
     they were, exactly what they were doing, and exactly who they 
     were with at the moment they watched the aircraft dive into 
     the World Trade Towers on what was, until then, a beautiful 
     morning in New York City. Within the hour 3,000 blameless 
     human beings would be vaporized, incinerated, or crushed in 
     the most agonizing ways imaginable. The most wretched among 
     them--over 200--driven mad by heat, hopelessness, and utter 
     desperation leapt to their deaths from 1,000 feet above Lower 
     Manhattan. We soon learned hundreds more were murdered at the 
     Pentagon, and in a Pennsylvania farmer's field.
       Once the buildings had collapsed and the immensity of the 
     attack began to register most of us had no idea of what to 
     do, or where to turn. As a nation, we were scared like we had 
     not been scared for generations. Parents hugged their 
     children to gain as much as to give comfort. Strangers 
     embraced in the streets stunned and crying on one anther's 
     shoulders seeking solace, as much as to give it. 
     Instantaneously, American patriotism soared not ``as the last 
     refuge'' as our national-cynical class would say, but in the 
     darkest times Americans seek refuge in family, and in 
     country, remembering that strong men and women have always 
     stepped forward to protect the nation when the need was 
     dire--and it was so God awful dire that day--and remains so 
     today.
       There was, however, a small segment of America that made 
     very different choices that day . . . actions the rest of 
     America stood in awe of on 9/11 and every day since. The 
     first were our firefighters and police, their ranks decimated 
     that day as they ran towards--not away from--danger and 
     certain death. They were doing what they'd sworn to do--
     ``protect and serve''--and went to their graves having 
     fulfilled their sacred oath. Then there was your Armed 
     Forces, and I know I am a little biased in my opinion here, 
     but the best of them are Marines. Most wearing the Eagle, 
     Globe and Anchor today joined the unbroken ranks of American 
     heroes after that fateful day not for money, or promises of 
     bonuses or travel to exotic liberty ports, but for one reason 
     and one reason alone; because of the terrible assault on our 
     way of life by men they knew must be killed and an extremist 
     ideology that must be destroyed. A plastic flag in their car 
     window was not their response to the murderous assault on our 
     country. No, their response was a commitment to protect the 
     nation swearing an oath to their God to do so, to their 
     deaths. When future generations ask why America is still free 
     and the heyday of Al Qaeda and their terrorist allies was 
     counted in days rather than in centuries as the extremists 
     themselves predicted, our hometown heroes--soldiers, sailors, 
     airmen, Coast

[[Page E2212]]

     Guardsmen, and Marines--can say, ``because of me and people 
     like me who risked all to protect millions who will never 
     know my name.''
       As we sit here right now, we should not lose sight of the 
     fact that America is at risk in a way it has never been 
     before. Our enemy fights for an ideology based on an 
     irrational hatred of who we are. Make no mistake about that 
     no matter what certain elements of the ``chattering class'' 
     relentlessly churn out. We did not start this fight, and it 
     will not end until the extremists understand that we as a 
     people will never lose our faith or our courage. If they 
     persist, these terrorists and extremists and the nations that 
     provide them sanctuary, they must know they will continue to 
     be tracked down and captured or killed. America's civilian 
     and military protectors both here at home and overseas have 
     for nearly nine years fought this enemy to a standstill and 
     have never for a second ``wondered why.'' They know, and are 
     not afraid. Their struggle is your struggle. They hold in 
     disdain those who claim to support them but not the cause 
     that takes their innocence, their limbs, and even their 
     lives. As a democracy--``We the People''--and that by 
     definition is every one of us--sent them away from home and 
     hearth to fight our enemies. We are all responsible. I know 
     it doesn't apply to those of us here tonight but if anyone 
     thinks you can somehow thank them for their service, and not 
     support the cause for which they fight--America's survival--
     then they are lying to themselves and rationalizing away 
     something in their lives, but, more importantly, they are 
     slighting our warriors and mocking their commitment to the 
     nation.
       Since this generation's ``day of infamy'' the American 
     military has handed our ruthless enemy defeat-after-defeat 
     but it will go on for years, if not decades, before this 
     curse has been eradicated. We have done this by unceasing 
     pursuit day and night into whatever miserable lair Al Qaeda, 
     the Taliban, and their allies, might slither into to lay in 
     wait for future opportunities to strike a blow at freedom. 
     America's warriors have never lost faith in their mission, or 
     doubted the correctness of their cause. They face dangers 
     every day that their countrymen safe and comfortable this 
     night cannot imagine. But this has always been the case in 
     all the wars our military have been sent to fight. Not to 
     build empires, or enslave peoples, but to free those held in 
     the grip of tyrants while at the same time protecting our 
     nation, its citizens, and our shared values. And, ladies and 
     gentlemen, think about this, the only territory we as a 
     people have ever asked for from any nation we have fought 
     alongside, or against, since our founding, the entire extent 
     of our overseas empire, as a few hundred acres of land for 
     the 24 American cemeteries scattered around the globe. It is 
     in these cemeteries where 220,000 of our sons and daughters 
     rest in glory for eternity, or are memorialized forever 
     because their earthly remains are lost forever in the deepest 
     depths of the oceans, or never recovered from far flung and 
     nameless battlefields. As a people, we can be proud because 
     billions across the planet today live free, and billions yet 
     unborn will also enjoy the same freedom and a chance at 
     prosperity because America sent its sons and daughters out to 
     fight and die for them, as much as for us.
       The comforting news for every American is that our men and 
     women in uniform, and every Marine, is as good today as any 
     in our history. As good as what their heroic, under-
     appreciated, and largely abandoned fathers and uncles were in 
     Vietnam, and their grandfathers were in Korea and World War 
     II. They have the same steel in their backs and have made 
     their own mark etching forever places like Ramadi, Fallujah, 
     and Baghdad, Iraq, and Helmand and Sagin, Afghanistan, that 
     are now part of the legend and stand just as proudly 
     alongside Belleau Wood, Iwo Jima, Inchon, Hue City, Khe Sanh, 
     and Ashau Valley, Vietnam. None of them have ever asked what 
     their country could do for them, but always and with their 
     lives asked what they could do for America. While some might 
     think we have produced yet another generation of 
     materialistic, consumeristic and self-absorbed young people, 
     those who serve today have broken the mold and stepped out as 
     real men, and real women, who are already making their own 
     way in life while protecting ours. They know the real 
     strength of a platoon, a battalion, or a country that is not 
     worshiping at the altar of diversity, but in a melting pot 
     that stitches and strengthens by a sense of shared history, 
     values, customs, hopes and dreams all of which unifies a 
     people making them stronger, as opposed to an unruly gaggle 
     of ``hyphenated'' or ``multi-cultural individuals.''
       I will leave you with a story about the kind of people they 
     are . . . about the quality of the steel in their backs . . . 
     about the kind of dedication they bring to our country while 
     they serve in uniform and forever after as veterans. Two 
     years ago when I was the Commander of all U.S. and Iraqi 
     forces, in fact, the 22nd of April 2008, two Marine infantry 
     battalions, 1/9 ``The Walking Dead,'' and 2/8 were switching 
     out in Ramadi. One battalion in the closing days of their 
     deployment going home very soon, the other just starting its 
     seven-month combat tour. Two Marines, Corporal Jonathan Yale 
     and Lance Corporal Jordan Haerter, 22 and 20 years old 
     respectively, one from each battalion, were assuming the 
     watch together at the entrance gate of an outpost that 
     contained a makeshift barracks housing 50 Marines. The same 
     broken down ramshackle building was also home to 100 Iraqi 
     police, also my men and our allies in the fight against the 
     terrorists in Ramadi, a city until recently the most 
     dangerous city on earth and owned by Al Qaeda. Yale was a 
     dirt poor mixed-race kid from Virginia with a wife and 
     daughter, and a mother and sister who lived with him and he 
     supported as well. He did this on a yearly salary of less 
     than $23,000. Haerter, on the other hand, was a middle class 
     white kid from Long Island. They were from two completely 
     different worlds. Had they not joined the Marines they would 
     never have met each other, or understood that multiple 
     America's exist simultaneously depending on one's race, 
     education level, economic status, and where you might have 
     been born. But they were Marines, combat Marines, forged in 
     the same crucible of Marine training, and because of this 
     bond they were brothers as close, or closer, than if they 
     were born of the same woman.
       The mission orders they received from the sergeant squad 
     leader I am sure went something like: ``Okay you two clowns, 
     stand this post and let no unauthorized personnel or vehicles 
     pass.'' ``You clear?'' I am also sure Yale and Haerter then 
     rolled their eyes and said in unison something like: ``Yes 
     Sergeant,'' with just enough attitude that made the point 
     without saying the words, ``No kidding sweetheart, we know 
     what we're doing.'' They then relieved two other Marines on 
     watch and took up their post at the entry control point of 
     Joint Security Station Nasser, in the Sophia section of 
     Ramadi, al Anbar, Iraq.
       A few minutes later a large blue truck turned down the 
     alley way-perhaps 60-70 yards in length--and sped its way 
     through the serpentine of concrete jersey walls. The truck 
     stopped just short of where the two were posted and 
     detonated, killing them both catastrophically. Twenty-four 
     brick masonry houses were damaged or destroyed. A mosque 100 
     yards away collapsed. The truck's engine came to rest two 
     hundred yards away knocking most of a house down before it 
     stopped. Our explosive experts reckoned the blast was made of 
     2,000 pounds of explosives. Two died, and because these two 
     young infantrymen didn't have it in their DNA to run from 
     danger, they saved 150 of their Iraqi and American brothers-
     in-arms.
       When I read the situation report about the incident a few 
     hours after it happened I called the regimental commander for 
     details as something about this struck me as different. 
     Marines dying or being seriously wounded is commonplace in 
     combat. We expect Marines regardless of rank or MOS to stand 
     their ground and do their duty, and even die in the process, 
     if that is what the mission takes. But this just seemed 
     different. The regimental commander had just returned from 
     the site and he agreed, but reported that there were no 
     American witnesses to the event--just Iraqi police. I figured 
     if there was any chance of finding out what actually happened 
     and then to decorate the two Marines to acknowledge their 
     bravery, I'd have to do it as a combat award that requires 
     two eye-witnesses and we figured the bureaucrats back in 
     Washington would never buy Iraqi statements. If it had any 
     chance at all, it had to come under the signature of a 
     general officer.
       I traveled to Ramadi the next day and spoke individually to 
     a half-dozen Iraqi police all of whom told the same story. 
     The blue truck turned down into the alley and immediately 
     sped up as it made its way through the serpentine. They all 
     said, ``We knew immediately what was going on as soon as the 
     two Marines began firing.'' The Iraqi police then related 
     that some of them also fired, and then to a man, ran for 
     safety just prior to the explosion. All survived. Many were 
     injured . . . some seriously. One of the Iraqis elaborated 
     and with tears welling up said, ``They'd run like any normal 
     man would to save his life.'' ``What he didn't know until 
     then,'' he said, ``and what he learned that very instant, was 
     that Marines are not normal.'' Choking past the emotion he 
     said, ``Sir, in the name of God no sane man would have stood 
     there and done what they did.'' ``No sane man.'' ``They saved 
     us all.''
       What we didn't know at the time, and only learned a couple 
     of days later after I wrote a summary and submitted both Yale 
     and Haerter for posthumous Navy Crosses, was that one of our 
     security cameras, damaged initially in the blast, recorded 
     some of the suicide attack. It happened exactly as the Iraqis 
     had described it. It took exactly six seconds from when the 
     truck entered the alley until it detonated.
       You can watch the last six seconds of their young lives. 
     Putting myself in their heads I supposed it took about a 
     second for the two Marines to separately come to the same 
     conclusion about what was going on once the truck came into 
     their view at the far end of the alley. Exactly no time to 
     talk it over, or call the sergeant to ask what they should 
     do. Only enough time to take half an instant and think about 
     what the sergeant told them to do only a few minutes before: 
     ``. . .let no unauthorized personnel or vehicles pass.'' The 
     two Marines had about five seconds left to live.
       It took maybe another two seconds for them to present their 
     weapons, take aim, and open up. By this time the truck was 
     half-way through the barriers and gaining speed the whole 
     time. Here, the recording shows a number of Iraqi police, 
     some of whom had fired their AKs, now scattering like the 
     normal and rational men they were-some running right past the 
     Marines. They had three seconds left to live.

[[Page E2213]]

       For about two seconds more, the recording shows the 
     Marines' weapons firing nonstop . . . the truck's windshield 
     exploding into shards of glass as their rounds take it apart 
     and tore in to the body of the son-of-a-bitch who is trying 
     to get past them to kill their brothers--American and Iraqi--
     bedded down in the barracks totally unaware of the fact that 
     their lives at that moment depended entirely on two Marines 
     standing their ground. If they had been aware, they would 
     have know they were safe . . . because two Marines stood 
     between them and a crazed suicide bomber. The recording shows 
     the truck careening to a stop immediately in front of the two 
     Marines. In all of the instantaneous violence Yale and 
     Haerter never hesitated. By all reports and by the recording, 
     they never stepped back. They never even started to step 
     aside. They never even shifted their weight. With their feet 
     spread should width apart, they leaned into the danger, 
     firing as fast as they could work their weapons. They had 
     only one second left to live.
       The truck explodes. The camera goes blank. Two young men go 
     to their God. Six seconds. Not enough time to think about 
     their families, their country, their flag, or about their 
     lives or their deaths, but more than enough time for two very 
     brave young men to do their duty . . . into eternity. That is 
     the kind of people who are on watch all over the world 
     tonight--for you.
       We Marines believe that God gave America the greatest gift 
     he could bestow to man while he lived on this earth--freedom. 
     We also believe he gave us another gift nearly as precious--
     our soldiers, sailors, airmen, Coast Guardsmen, and Marines--
     to safeguard that gift and guarantee no force on this earth 
     can every steal it away. It has been my distinct honor to 
     have been with you here today. Rest assured our America, this 
     experiment in democracy started over two centuries ago, will 
     forever remain the ``land of the free and home of the brave'' 
     so long as we never run out of tough young Americans who are 
     willing to look beyond their own self-interest and 
     comfortable lives, and go into the darkest and most dangerous 
     places on earth to hunt down, and kill, those who would do us 
     harm. God Bless America, and . . . SEMPER FIDELIS!

                          ____________________