[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 145 (1999), Part 1]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Page 335]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]



         THREE NORTH CAROLINIANS HONOR FORGOTTEN AMERICAN HERO

                                 ______
                                 

                           HON. BOB ETHERIDGE

                           of north carolina

                    in the house of representatives

                       Wednesday, January 6, 1999

  Mr. ETHERIDGE. Mr. Speaker, so often the brave men and women who 
fought on the front lines of American wars are forgotten by our 
government and ignored in our society. People who risked everything to 
preserve our freedom now make up a significant portion of the homeless 
population, languish in hospital suffering from multiple disorders, and 
are laid to rest without the honors they have rightly earned. I rise 
today to honor three strong North Carolinians who fought to ensure that 
such a veteran received a proper burial.
  Robert Joseph Burke, known around his community as Sarge, was a 
highly decorated, but down on his luck, veteran of the Korean War who 
passed away on November 5, 1998 in an apartment fire. His body laid 
unclaimed for weeks, the victim of government bureaucracy, until Dennis 
Rogers, a journalist for Raleigh's The News & Observer, learned of his 
plight from Mr. Burke's friends at the Scramble Dog Inn, his local 
hangout. Debbie Jernigan, the owner, had helped him over the years with 
food and medical care and was there with him the night he died from his 
burns. Mr. Rogers contacted a member of my staff, Miyoshi Jones for 
help. Ms. Jones worked untiringly fighting the bureaucratic red tape 
that held his remains hostage, and her efforts resulted in Mr. Burke's 
burial at the Sandhills Veterans Cemetery at Fort Bragg.
  I would like to enter into the Record two articles written by Mr. 
Rogers that beautifully articulate the story of the valiant efforts of 
these brave North Carolinians to honor the memory of one of America's 
heroes.

                  [News & Observer, December 23, 1998]

                Dennis Rogers: Life's Lessons, Part One

       Every day at 2 p.m., Robert Joseph Burke would come through 
     the doors of the Scramble Dog Inn on Western Boulevard. The 
     bartender didn't have to ask: a hot beer and a bottle of 
     Texas Pete on the side.
       He'd leave about dark, easing his way to his nearby 
     apartment. There he'd try again to chase the memories away 
     with cheap wine.
       The cops say he was drunk Nov. 5 when he fell asleep in his 
     apartment with a cigarette in his hand. They took him to the 
     burn center in Chapel Hill, but he died the next day.
       He was 68.
       He was also a pain in the neck, a hopeless flirt and a 
     proud man who once was a hero. Oh my, the stories he could 
     weave of those days when he was a kid from Brooklyn, back 
     when he was a soldier and young and sober.
       He liked to be called Sarge.
       ``You'd sit there all day and listen to his stories,'' said 
     Debbie Jernigan, his friend and the owner of the Scramble 
     Dog. ``There was so much kindness in him. And so much bull.''
       But barroom war stories don't earn you the Silver Star for 
     heroism. Or the Bronze Star, either. His military records say 
     he once wore them both, along with the two Purple Hearts he 
     earned for being twice wounded in combat in Korea. And there 
     was his Combat Infantryman Badge and his Ranger insignia, 
     solid proof that once this tale-telling old man was as tough 
     as a cob, and brave, too.
       That could be the end of this story, I guess.
       But a remarkable thing happened when Sarge died. He may 
     have lived his later years as a forgotten man from a 
     forgotten war, a barfly taking up space, talking to anyone 
     who'd listen and killing himself one beer and one cigarette 
     at a time in a roadside tavern. But because of two strong 
     women, he did not go quietly into that long, long night. Not 
     Sarge.
       The first is Debbie Jernigan, the den mother of the 
     Scramble Dog crew. She is the best friend a down-and-outer 
     ever had. She had turned the old bar that opened in 1956 into 
     a working-class refuge, a place to see a friendly face smile 
     when the real world turned mean and cold.
       She is quick to give others the credit, but they know what 
     she's done for them, how she nagged and mothered and fed them 
     and paid for a cab to take them home on those nights when the 
     beer and good times got too good. That's why they felt such a 
     loss when the Dog burned to the ground earlier this year.
       ``We took care of each other there.'' Debbie said. ``We 
     took up collections or held cookouts or poker runs. We tried 
     to help people stand on their feet and get back a little of 
     their pride.
       ``Sarge was living in an old pickup truck behind the bar 
     when we first got to know him. When the people in the bar 
     found out he was homeless, they chipped in and bought him a 
     tent.''
       Sarge proudly moved his new tent to the woods behind the 
     Scramble Dog where, of course, he set it on fire with his 
     hard drinking and endless smoking.
       ``You know what he did then?'' Debbie asks. ``His false 
     teeth had been burned in the fire and he brought them to me 
     and asked me to clean them. Can you believe that?''
       Well, yes, because it wasn't the last time Sarge would test 
     Debbie's patience.
       Look for the rest of the story in this space Friday.
                                  ____

       [News & Observer, December 25, 1998]

              Dennis Rogers: Finally, a Farewell for Sarge

       Robert Joseph Burke died in an apartment fire Nov. 5, just 
     another old man who went to sleep with a cigarette in his 
     hand.
       Sarge, as he liked to be called, spent his days drinking at 
     the Scramble Dog Inn on Western Boulevard and telling war 
     stories that few people took seriously.
       But the stories were true and he had the medals to back 
     them up: the Silver Star, the Bronze Star and two Purple 
     Hearts that proved he was everything he said, a combat-tested 
     Ranger who fought bravely in Korea.
       ``He was a sweet old man,'' said Debbie Jernigan, the bar 
     owner who had befriended him. ``There was so much kindness in 
     him. And so much bull.
       ``I had to ban him from the bar several times. He just 
     would not leave the women who came in there alone. I wouldn't 
     put up with mess. But when I'd throw him out, he'd go stand 
     across the street and look at the front door like a sad 
     puppy. I was hard on him sometimes, but he needed that.''
       Debbie let Sarge eat free when the bar had a charity 
     cookout. She got him medical care. Once she learned that his 
     war stories were true, she fought with the Veterans 
     Administration to get him help. And when he died, she held 
     his hand to help him through the last dark night of his life.
       Sarge was dead. But other than Debbie and those who were 
     his family at the bar, nobody seemed to care. His body was 
     taken to the medical examiner's office in Chapel Hill, where 
     it lay unclaimed for several weeks. Desperate, his friend 
     Jerry Rengler called me for help.
       I tried, but the bureaucracy would not be moved. That's 
     just terrible, one suit after another said, and then came up 
     with reasons why it was always someone else's responsibility.
       Then came Myoshi Jones, who works for Rep. Bob Etheridge of 
     the 2nd district. When I couldn't find anyone in government 
     willing to do the right thing. I did what thousands do every 
     day: I called my congressman. Myoshi, who works in 
     Etheridge's Durham office, was assigned the case.
       Standing maybe 5 feet tall and weighing about 100 pounds, 
     she took on the entire government and it was not a fair 
     fight. As a government official said of her later. ``Who is 
     that woman? She's chewing on people from one end of town to 
     the other.''
       ``They made me mad,'' Myoshi said. ``They weren't treating 
     that man right. I'm from a military family, and I'm sensitive 
     to veteran issues.''
       The battle took a month, but on Monday, six weeks after he 
     died, Robert Joseph Burke, American soldier and bona fide 
     hero, was laid to rest in the Sandhills Veterans Cemetery at 
     Fort Bragg. He was interred with the quiet dignity and honor 
     he was due.
       Rep. Etheridge, in the classiest move I've seen a 
     congressman make lately, was there to pay his respects. When 
     the brief service was over. Rengler accepted the flag that 
     had covered his remains. He presented it to Myoshi Jones for 
     her untiring efforts.
       To all who helped, like Lois Raver, veterans service 
     officer for Orange County, and my neighbor Alex Lee, who took 
     care of the funeral arrangements, my gratitude. Thanks to 
     you, an old soldier, almost forgotten by the nation he served 
     so valiantly, is finally at rest with his comrades.





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