[Congressional Record Volume 171, Number 82 (Thursday, May 15, 2025)]
[Senate]
[Page S2956]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]





                       TRIBUTE TO RANDY SIKOWSKI

  Ms. DUCKWORTH. Mr. President, I come to the floor today to honor a 
soldier's soldier, a person who taught me what kind of friend, what 
kind of helicopter pilot, what kind of leader I wanted to be--my 
friend, Randy Sikowski, sitting next to me here today.
  I would start off by telling some stories about Randy from our Army 
days, but--well, he knows me very well, as well as I know him, and he 
knows where my bodies are buried, and I know where his are buried. I 
don't want him telling any similar stories about me in return. So, for 
my own sake, I am going to hold my tongue on those. Instead, let me 
just say that this man and I have been in the trenches together, quite 
literally.
  Yes, he is someone who has been a vital member of my office's 
leadership team for the past 8 years, but my journey with Randy started 
long, long before anyone ever called me ``Senator Duckworth.'' It 
started when I was still called ``Lieutenant Duckworth.''
  Randy was always 6 to 18 months ahead of me in the hierarchy, as we 
climbed our way up the Army career ladder from young lieutenants to 
captains to majors. He was always someone I looked up to, though, at 
the time, I would never have told him that.
  In fact, our two assault helicopter companies were often rivals. He 
was Alpha Company commander; I was Bravo Company commander. We each 
thought our company was the best.
  But he always was the kind of pilot, the kind of military tactician, 
the kind of officer I knew I wanted to be. To this day, when an intern 
or a young staffer asks me for career advice, I think to myself: They 
need to find themselves a Randy Sikowski--a mentor whom you can learn 
from, yet who isn't too far ahead of you in your career, close enough 
that their footsteps are still visible in the sand in front of you to 
follow, close enough that their hand is still out on that ladder a step 
above you--right there--to help you climb up to that next rung.
  Look, the Army is really, really good at decisiveness, but Randy--
well, Randy has taught me thoughtfulness, and that lesson changed my 
life.
  Looking back at our time together in Iraq, I think we worked so well 
with each other because we complemented one another. He was the 
battalion operational officer, and I was his assistant. I was the 
hothead. He was the voice of reason--the adult in the room--who would 
make me drop and do pushups when I talked back one too many times, much 
to the delight of our enlisted personnel.
  We were the team running the Tactical Operations Center, or the TOC, 
responsible for the life of every crew member and every passenger we 
put into those 44 aircraft, making sure that our task force completed 
every mission assigned to us.
  Then, after my shoot-down, he made me feel like he was still with me 
in every way that mattered, even though we happened to be a half a 
world apart--him still in the combat zone and me in my hospital bed, 
yearning to get back to our unit because he knew me, and he knew that, 
as I was laying in Walter Reed, I would have traded anything to be back 
in the blistering heat and suffocating dust of Iraq if it meant just 
one more day, one more hour, one more mission with my buddies.
  So Randy lived up to his end of the Soldier's Creed. He made sure I 
knew that he would never leave his fallen comrade no matter how long it 
took me to get back up.
  More than a decade later, when I was fortunate enough to get elected 
to this Chamber, I gave Randy a call. By then, he was a colonel, a rank 
I was not ever going to achieve. He had retired from the Army by then. 
He had earned a break, but here I was, asking him to get back in the 
game: to take on another tireless, often thankless job to serve his 
Nation once more--this time, by helping to lead our downstate team.
  First off, I told him I was a Democrat, but he didn't seem to even 
consider the politics of it all. All he asked was:

       What is the job?

  I replied:

       Helping out Illinoisans. Looking out for Americans. Taking 
     care of our veterans.

  He said:

       That's what I do.

  And, buddy, truer words have never been spoken.
  Randy has led our downstate operations with humility, integrity, and 
a rock-solid sense of purpose. He has been the calm in the chaos. And, 
well, I was elected in 2016, so there has been a lot of chaos. But 
through it all, he has been a steady hand, a quiet force, making sure 
we were always oriented true north and making sure our work actually 
improved people's lives. It is a rare, special gift that I have been 
able to serve alongside someone who mentored me.
  Randy, as you head off into the sunset--or, in your case, the 
pickleball court--please know how grateful I am for your leadership, 
for your friendship, for your loyalty--loyalty to this office, yes, but 
also, more importantly, to this Nation that you have served so well for 
so long.
  Congratulations on your retirement, my friend. Thank you for saying 
yes when I called you that day. Thank you for choosing to continue 
wearing the flag of our great Nation on your shoulder, facing forward 
as always, because you cared that much about keeping this country we 
love as strong as she should be. Thank you for making me a better 
person. Thank you for showing me who I wanted to be when I grow up.
  I love you, and I am going to miss you, dammit.
  I yield the floor.

                          ____________________