[Congressional Record Volume 159, Number 110 (Monday, July 29, 2013)]
[Senate]
[Pages S5990-S5991]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




               REMEMBERING COLONEL GEORGE E. ``BUD'' DAY

  Mr. McCAIN. Mr. President, Sunday brought the sad news that my dear 
friend Col. George E. ``Bud'' Day passed away. He was 88 years old. To 
say he lived a full life would be quite an understatement. His was 
filled with so many extraordinary experiences, adventures, challenges, 
accomplishments, and with such love, compassion, and courage that it 
could have supplied enough experiences, excitement, and satisfaction 
for 10 lifetimes.
  Bud knew defeats and triumphs on a scale few will ever know. He lived 
in moments filled with every conceivable emotion. He knew terror and 
suffering. He knew joy and deliverance. He knew solidarity, self-
respect, and dignity.
  Knowing him as well as I did, I am certain he faced his end satisfied 
that he had made the most of his time on Earth. He will have faced it 
with courage as he faced all adversity. He will have faced it with 
gratitude for the love and companionship for his beloved wife and best 
friend Dorie, his sons Steve and George, and his twin girls, Sandra and 
Sonya. He will have faced it with humility for having had the honor to 
serve his country with distinction in three wars: World War II, the 
Korean war, and the Vietnam war.

  I had the honor of being Bud's friend for almost five decades of his 
88 years. We met in 1967 when the Vietnamese left me to die in the 
prison cell Bud shared with Maj. Norris Overly. Bud and Norris wouldn't 
let me die. They bathed me, fed me, nursed me, encouraged me, and 
ordered me back to life. Norris did much of the work, but Bud did all 
he could considering he too had recently been near death--shot, bombed, 
beaten savagely by his captors, and his arm broken in three places. He 
was a hard man to kill, and he expected the same from his subordinates. 
They saved my life--a big debt to repay, obviously. But more than that, 
Bud showed me how to save my self-respect and my honor, and that is a 
debt I can never repay.
  Bud was a fierce--and I mean really fierce--resister. He could not be 
broken in spirit no matter how broken he was in body. Those who knew 
Bud after the war could see how tough he was, but, my God, to have 
known him in prison--confronting our enemies day in and day out, never, 
ever yielding. He defied men who had the power of life and death over 
us. To witness him sing the national anthem in response to having a 
rifle pointed at his face--well, that was something to behold. 
Unforgettable. No one had more guts than Bud or greater determination 
to do his duty and then some, to keep faith with his country and his 
comrades whatever the cost. Bud was my commanding officer but more, he 
was my inspiration, as he was for all the men who were privileged to 
serve under him.
  Nothing offers more compelling testimony to Bud's guts and 
determination and his patriotism than the account of his escape from 
captivity. In the entire war he was the only American who managed to 
escape from North Vietnam.
  In 1967 then-major Bud Day commanded a squadron of F-100s that served 
as forward air controllers over North Vietnam and Laos. They were 
called the Mistys, named for Bud's favorite song. Theirs was probably 
the most dangerous combat duty in the Air Force, and they suffered high 
casualties.
  On August 26 Bud Day was one of those casualties. Bud was shot down 
by a surface-to-air missile 20 miles inside of North Vietnam. He hit 
the fuselage of his F-100 when he ejected, breaking his arm, damaging 
his eye, and injuring his back. Bud was immediately captured by North 
Vietnamese militia. He was interrogated by his captors in an 
underground prison camp. When he refused to answer their questions, 
they staged a mock execution. Then they hung him by his feet for hours 
and beat him. Believing he was too badly injured to escape, they tied 
him up loosely and left him guarded by two green teenage soldiers. They 
misjudged him. On his fifth day of captivity he untied his ropes and 
escaped.
  Bud stayed on the run for about 2 weeks. He wasn't certain how long 
he was free. He lost track of time. He made it across the DMZ and into 
South Vietnam. A bomb, however, had fallen near him his second night on 
the run, striking him with shrapnel, concussing him and rupturing his 
eardrums. Limping, bleeding, starving, and in great pain, Bud kept 
heading south across rivers, through dense jungles, over hills, 
crawling sometimes on his hands and knees, evading enemy patrols and 
surviving on berries, frogs, and rainwater.
  On the last night of Bud's escape he arrived within 2 kilometers of a 
forward marine. Sensibly judging it more dangerous to approach the 
guarded base at night than to wait until morning when the marine guards 
could see he was an American, Bud slept one more night in the jungle.
  Early the next morning he encountered a Viet Cong patrol. He was shot

[[Page S5991]]

trying to hobble to the base, recaptured, and returned to the camp he 
had escaped, where he was tortured some more.
  A few days later Bud's captors took him to the prison we called the 
Plantation, where I would meet him 2 months later. He was one of the 
most grievously injured pilots to arrive in Hanoi. Norris helped nurse 
him back to some semblance of health, although he would never fully 
recover from his wounds. Then Bud helped Norris nurse me.
  Whenever I felt my spirits and resistance flag, I looked to Bud for 
the courage to continue and for the example of how to serve my country 
in difficult circumstances. Bud was the bravest man I ever knew, and I 
have known more than a few. He was great company too and made it 
possible to actually have fun in prison once in a while. He received 
the Medal of Honor when he came home--the highest of his many 
decorations for valor. Despite his injuries, he managed to regain 
flying status and commanded a flight wing at Eglin Air Force Base.
  When Bud ultimately retired from the Air Force, he practiced law. 
After his service in World War II but before he deployed to the Korean 
war, he graduated from college and law school. He devoted his practice 
to defending the interests of his fellow veterans.
  Bud and I stayed close through all the years that have passed since 
our war. We talked often. We saw each other regularly. He campaigned 
with me in all my campaigns and advised me always. We argued sometimes, 
agreed more often, laughed a lot, and always enjoyed each other's 
company. I am going to miss him terribly.
  Even though Bud had reached advanced years, for some reason I could 
never imagine Bud yielding to anything--even, I thought, to the laws of 
nature. Tough old bird that he was, I always thought he would outlive 
us all. But he is gone now to a heaven I expect he imagined would look 
like an Iowa cornfield in early winter, filled with pheasants.
  I will miss Bud every day for the rest of my life, but I will see him 
again. I know I will. I will hunt the field with him, and I look 
forward to it.
  I suggest the absence of a quorum.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. The clerk will call the roll.
  The legislative clerk proceeded to call the roll.
  Mr. NELSON. Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the order for 
the quorum call be rescinded.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. Without objection, it is so ordered.
  Mr. NELSON. Mr. President, I rise to eulogize a great American about 
whom Senator McCain has just spoken. It has been said it is the soldier 
who has given us our most important freedoms over the course of our 
history. That is certainly a true statement in the case of Air Force 
Col. George ``Bud'' Day.
  Colonel Day was a good friend of Senator McCain's. He was a resident 
of Florida, living in the Fort Walton Beach area. Sadly, he passed 
away, but at the very extended life's age of 88.
  I want to--in addition to Senator McCain's comments--take a moment to 
honor and remember this American hero, who was one of the most highly 
decorated service members this country has ever seen. He was a Medal of 
Honor recipient. He was a veteran of three wars--World War II, the 
Korean war, and the war in Vietnam.
  Because his F-100 fighter jet was shot down, he ended up being a 
prisoner of war in Vietnam for nearly 6 years, and there in Hanoi he 
and Senator McCain became cellmates.
  When asked about their experience together, Senator McCain said:

       I owe my life to Bud, and much of what I know about 
     character and patriotism. He was the bravest man I ever knew.

  Senator McCain has just recounted a number of those things. I do not 
know, but I have heard it said, either from Colonel Day or Senator 
McCain, that it was John McCain who was put into that cell nearly 
dead--after his arm was broken when he ejected from his aircraft, and 
after he had been beaten--and Bud Day nursed him back to health.
  After the POWs were released from Vietnam, interestingly, Colonel Day 
returned to active duty, and he returned to active flying status. He 
retired in 1977 as the Air Force's most decorated officer.
  It has also been said that a nation can be judged by how it treats 
those who have borne its battles. After he left the Air Force, Colonel 
Day--listen to this--continued public service. He went to law school. 
He practiced law and he championed veterans' issues.
  So I wanted to take a moment, after an emotional speech by Senator 
McCain, to say that I say, and many are saying, a little prayer of 
thanks that Colonel Bud Day helped preserve the freedoms of this 
country with his service to this country.
  I yield the floor.
  I suggest the absence of a quorum.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. The clerk will call the roll.
  The legislative clerk proceeded to call the roll.
  Mr. BOOZMAN. I ask unanimous consent that the order for the quorum 
call be rescinded.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. Without objection, it is so ordered.

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