[Congressional Record Volume 164, Number 11 (Thursday, January 18, 2018)]
[House]
[Page H487]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




         HONORING THE LIFE OF SERGEANT FIRST CLASS ALWYN CASHE

  The SPEAKER pro tempore. The Chair recognizes the gentlewoman from 
Florida (Mrs. Murphy) for 5 minutes.
  Mrs. MURPHY of Florida. Mr. Speaker, today, I am filing legislation 
to honor an American hero. My bill would name the U.S. Post Office at 
567 East Franklin Street in Oviedo, Florida, in honor of one of its 
native sons, Sergeant First Class Alwyn Cashe.
  Scripture teaches us that there is no greater love than to lay down 
your life for your friends. On October 17, 2005, in an Iraqi province 
north of Baghdad, Sergeant First Class Cashe made the ultimate 
expression of love, disregarding his personal safety and enduring 
unimaginable pain in order to save multiple soldiers under his command 
from their burning vehicle after it hit an improvised explosive device.
  His actions that fateful day were so remarkable that they almost defy 
description. Words like ``courage'' and ``bravery'' do not seem 
adequate to fully capture the deeds this soldier performed.
  The actions that Sergeant First Class Cashe took resulted in his 
death, as he must have known they would. After his passing, Sergeant 
First Class Cashe received the Silver Star, the third-highest combat 
award that the Army confers.
  Over the past years, there has been a passionate, painstaking, and 
patient effort to have Sergeant First Class Cashe's Silver Star 
upgraded to the Medal of Honor. Notably, this effort has been led by 
the battalion commander who nominated him for the Silver Star. This 
individual, now a two-star general, came to believe he deserves the 
award. I strongly agree with this conclusion.
  But right now, I want to talk not about medals but about the man 
himself, because that is what matters the most.
  Alwyn was born in 1970 in Sanford, Florida, and was raised in Oviedo, 
attending Oviedo High School. He was the youngest of nine children--
five girls and four boys. The family didn't have much money, but they 
had plenty of pride. When Alwyn was just 6, his father passed away. 
Alwyn's mother, Ruby Mae, worked long hours at demanding jobs, working 
on an assembly line and, later, as a custodian at Florida Tech, since 
renamed the University of Central Florida.
  One of Alwyn's sisters, Kasinal, who is now an ICU nurse, describes 
her brother as the baby of the family, rambunctious, a little spoiled 
by his siblings, and, of course, deeply loved. She remembers buying him 
a 10-speed bike so he wouldn't be different from the other kids in the 
neighborhood and how happy he was.
  Alwyn enlisted in the military after high school. Kasinal told us it 
had a transformational effect, turning this aimless boy into a resolute 
man, the civilian into a soldier--and not just any soldier, but a 
soldier's soldier, a tough-as-nails infantryman, and an old-school 
leader in the best sense of the term.
  As Kasinal put it, Alwyn bled Army green right from the start. The 
Army gave him a second family with even more brothers and sisters, 
bound together by the American flag on their uniform and the events 
they experienced and endured together, from boot camp to combat.
  On October 17, 2005, Alwyn, now Sergeant First Class Cashe, was on 
his second deployment to Iraq. The Bradley Fighting Vehicle carrying 
him, six other American soldiers, and the squad's interpreter struck an 
IED. The blast instantly killed the interpreter and ruptured the 
vehicle's fuel cell.

                              {time}  1115

  Flames engulfed the vehicle. Initially, only lightly injured, but 
covered in fuel, he descended into the hull, extracted the driver, who 
was on fire, and extinguished the flames. At this point, multiple 
soldiers remained in the vehicle, one of whom managed to open the rear 
hatch.
  Sergeant First Class Cashe rushed to the back of the vehicle, reached 
into the hot flames, and started pulling out soldiers. His fuel-soaked 
uniform caught fire and the flames spread quickly over his body. 
Despite what must have been terrible pain, he returned to the vehicle 
twice more to extract his soldiers, all while he was still on fire and 
exposed to enemy gunfire.
  By the time all the soldiers were saved from the vehicle, his 
injuries were the most severe. Second- and third-degree burns covered 
72 percent of his body. Nevertheless, he refused to be evacuated until 
all his soldiers were medevacked out before him.
  When he arrived at the U.S. military hospital at Balad Air Base in 
Iraq, he was still fully conscious. What remained of his uniform had 
melted to his skin, yet he tried to fight off the nurses, insisting 
that they treat everyone else first. Despite determined efforts to save 
his life at various hospitals abroad and in the States, he eventually 
succumbed to his wounds on November 8, 2005, surrounded by members of 
his biological family and his Army family.
  Sergeant First Class Cashe's actions reflect the highest standards of 
servant leadership, devotion to duty, and sheer bravery.
  We cannot bring Sergeant First Class Cashe back or erase the pain 
felt by those who loved him and those who served alongside him, but we 
can pay tribute to his life and his legacy. We can engrave his name on 
a plaque and designate a Federal building in his memory so the public 
never forgets this American soldier, this son of Oviedo, who laid down 
his life for his friends in service to our country.
  I respectfully ask my colleagues to support this legislation.

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