[Congressional Record Volume 157, Number 110 (Thursday, July 21, 2011)]
[House]
[Page H5290]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




           TRIBUTE TO STAFF SERGEANT RUSSELL JEREMIAH PROCTOR

  The SPEAKER pro tempore. The Chair recognizes the gentleman from 
California (Mr. McClintock) for 5 minutes.
  Mr. McCLINTOCK. Mr. Speaker, on June 26, a roadside bomb in Julula, 
Iraq, claimed the life of a young man from Oroville, California. He was 
Army Staff Sergeant Russell Jeremiah Proctor, age 25, on his third tour 
of combat duty.
  He was laid to rest last week in solemn ceremonies in California. 
Sergeant Proctor leaves behind a grieving widow, a devastated family, 
and a 9-month-old son who will know his father only by reputation. And 
it is reputation I want to speak of today.
  I never met Sergeant Proctor. I too know him only by reputation. It 
is a reputation commemorated by, among other decorations, two Army 
Commendation Medals, two Army Achievement Medals, two Army Good Conduct 
Medals, the National Defense Service Medal, the Iraqi Campaign Medal 
with Bronze Service Star, the Global War on Terrorism Service Medal, 
two Overseas Service Ribbons, a Combat Action Badge, the Bronze Star, 
and the Purple Heart.
  It's a reputation memorialized by those who knew him best, the men he 
served with. ``He was a leader among leaders,'' said one. ``His drive 
to be the best motivated all of us to reach our potential.'' Another 
said, ``He led from the front. He inspired everyone around him to 
better themselves.''
  Perhaps the most poignant was this simple post on a local newspaper 
site: ``My son was killed with Sergeant Proctor. Private First Class 
Dylan Johnson and the rest of the soldiers in the unit all looked up to 
Russell for leadership and guidance. They are both heroes to me as 
well.'' It's signed, ``A grieving dad.''
  I had the honor to speak last week with Sergeant Proctor's widow, 
Soila. She's also active duty Army. They met while serving at Fort 
Hood. She was deployed at the same Forward Operating Base as Russell. 
They were billeted together. She was nearby when he was killed.
  I cannot begin to imagine the hell that she has been through. And 
yet, having endured all this, she plans to continue her service to our 
country in the U.S. Army.
  Mr. Speaker, James Michener's question thunders down upon us at times 
likes these: Where do we get such people?
  As I talked with Soila last Monday, I was struck by the transcendent 
nobility that accompanies her grief.
  Perhaps a more pertinent question is: What would our country do 
without such people as Sergeant Proctor, or the nine generations of 
Americans who have preceded him in the defense of our Nation?
  General Patton was right when he observed: ``It is foolish and wrong 
to mourn the men who died. Rather, we should thank God that such men 
lived.''
  And so, Mr. Speaker, I rise today for exactly that purpose, to thank 
God that Russell Proctor lived and to pray that his infant son, 
Ezekiel, grows up in a Nation made safer by his sacrifice, and a Nation 
that will never forget not only what we owe to those who Lincoln called 
``the loved and lost,'' but what we owe to the families who so 
personally bear that loss.

                              {time}  1030

  A chaplain who brought the dreaded news to the family wrote a 
commentary over the 4th of July weekend, a weekend filled with 
barbecues and picnics and fireworks, in which he noted the grief of 
this family amidst all of the frivolity around them. And he noted that 
at the age of 25, Russell Proctor will never again celebrate a 
birthday, take his son fishing, or hug his wife.
  Sergeant Russell Proctor and all those who preceded him since the 
first shots on Lexington Green believed enough in our country and what 
it stands for to sacrifice all of those precious years of love and life 
and joy so that we, their fellow Americans, could enjoy those same 
blessings of liberty and safety and security, including a baby boy 
named Ezekiel, whose dad won't be there to take him fishing or hug him 
or celebrate birthdays with him.
  Ezekiel, if you should someday stumble upon these words, I hope you 
will know that, like you, many of us knew your dad only by reputation, 
and we stood in awe of him.

                          ____________________