[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 150 (2004), Part 2]
[Senate]
[Pages 1993-1995]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                      VETERAN PATRIOT MAX CLELAND

  Mr. REED. Mr. President, I rise to respond to a scurrilous attack 
against the patriotism of a friend and former colleague, Max Cleland. 
In a townhall.com column by Ann Coulter, which is described as a 
conservative news and information Web site, scurrilous, unprincipled 
attacks have been leveled against a patriot, a warrior, and a friend. I 
want to put my response in context.
  I had the privilege of serving in the U.S. Army for 12 years on 
active duty. I did some challenging things there: qualified as an Army 
Ranger, paratrooper, commanded a company in the 82nd Airborne Division 
of paratroopers. But I am not a combat veteran. I did not serve in a 
combat zone. Max Cleland, and many, many others, did. There is a 
difference between those who wear the uniform of the United States and 
those who served in a combat situation, particularly a situation such 
as Vietnam.
  The difference is that in that situation, more than any others, you 
live constantly with a sense of your own mortality. At any moment, 
through any fire or mishap, you could die or be seriously injured. At 
any moment, you could see people, your fellow soldiers, die from 
injuries. And for officers such as Max Cleland there is a special 
burden that goes along with leadership--not just officers but also 
noncommissioned officers. You have to make tough decisions that some 
day could

[[Page 1994]]

result in the death or injury of another. That is a very special type 
of service that is inherent in being in a combat zone.
  Max Cleland served with distinction. The article that Miss Coulter 
wrote mocks his service, mocks his sacrifice, and, in doing so, mocks 
the service and sacrifice of thousands and thousands of Americans in 
the past and today across the globe.
  For example, this is how she describes Max in some respects. In her 
words:

       Moreover, if we're going to start delving into exactly who 
     did what back then, maybe Max Cleland should stop allowing 
     Democrats to portray him as a war hero who lost his limbs 
     taking enemy fire on the battlefields of Vietnam.

  Let's get one thing straight right now: Max Cleland is an American 
hero.
  Let me read from the citation he received for the Silver Star, 
obtained from Senator Miller's Web site.

       Captain Cleland distinguished himself by exceptionally 
     valorous action on 4 April, 1968 . . . during enemy attack 
     near Khe Sanh.
       When the battalion command post came under a heavy enemy 
     rocket and mortar attack, Captain Cleland, disregarding his 
     own safety, exposed himself to the rocket barrage as he left 
     his covered position to administer first aid to his wounded 
     comrades. He then assisted in moving the injured personnel to 
     covered positions.
       Continuing to expose himself, Captain Cleland organized his 
     men into a work party to repair the battalion communications 
     equipment, which had been damaged by enemy fire.
       His gallant action is in keeping with the highest 
     traditions of the military service, and reflects great credit 
     upon himself, his unit, and the United States Army.

  Max Cleland is a hero. No one has to portray him as one; he is one.
  With respect to how he lost his limbs, this goes on to say:

       Cleland lost three limbs in an accident during a routine 
     noncombat mission where he was about to drink beer with 
     friends. He saw a grenade on the ground and picked it up. He 
     could have done that at Fort Dix. In fact, Cleland could have 
     dropped a grenade on his foot as a National Guardsman--or 
     what Cleland sneeringly calls ``weekend warriors.'' Luckily 
     for Cleland's political career and current pomposity about 
     Bush, he happened to do it while in Vietnam.

  Yeah, Max was really lucky to be in Vietnam--really lucky.
  This is what happened. In Max's book:

       My tour of duty in Vietnam was now almost over. In another 
     month I'd be going home. I smiled, thinking of the good times 
     waiting stateside.
       ``Oh, Captain Cleland.''
       I looked around. It was Major Cralle who had come up to our 
     position. ``The battalion needs a better radio hookup with 
     the vision supply area,'' he said. ``I'd like you to send a 
     radio relay team back there to improve communications.''
       That meant setting up a radio relay station on a hill back 
     at the division forward assembly area 15 miles to the east. 
     Instead of sending a team alone, I decided to go with them to 
     ensure they got set up properly.
       It is what is called leadership, sacrifice, being willing 
     to do yourself what you ask subordinates to do. That is not 
     routine anytime. This was a combat mission in a combat area.
       With two men, I pulled together some antennas and a 
     generator and some radios and loaded them on a chopper. The 
     three of us climbed in and the helicopter lifted off. Within 
     minutes, we had settled down by the radio relay station. The 
     men and equipment were unloaded, and I climbed back into the 
     chopper intending to go down to battalion rear headquarters.
       Then two ideas crossed my mind. First, it would be better 
     to work personally with my team in setting up the radio 
     relay. Second, I had a lot of friends at this relay station 
     and now was a good time to have a cold beer with them.

  First: I want my men to do the job. I am going to be there with them. 
By the way, I have comrades that I have served with and, you know, if I 
have a chance to be with them, and, oh, by the way--in his 
characteristic honesty--have a beer with them, I was going to do that.

       I called to the pilot that I was getting out. He nodded and 
     held the ship steady. I jumped to the ground, ran in a crouch 
     until I got clear of the spinning helicopter blades, turned 
     around and watched the chopper lift.
       Then I saw the grenade. It was where the chopper had lifted 
     off.
       It must be mine, I thought. Grenades had fallen off my web 
     gear before. Shifting the M-16----

  Let me stop. I assume if he is carrying grenades and an M-16 this was 
not a recreational activity.

       Shifting the M-16 to my left hand and holding it behind me, 
     I bent down to pick up the grenade.
       A blinding explosion threw me backwards.
       The blast jammed my eyeballs back into my skull, 
     temporarily blinding me, pinning my cheeks and jaw muscles to 
     the bones of my face. My ears rang with a deafening 
     reverberation as if I were standing in an echo chamber.
       Memory of the firecracker exploding in my hand as a child 
     flashed before me.
       When my eyes cleared I looked at my right hand. It was 
     gone.

  I could go on, but I think that speaks volumes. Max thought, frankly, 
that it was his grenade. But regardless of whose grenade it was, I was 
always taught, as a leader, that if there was a grenade, a live 
grenade, somebody has to take care of it.
  Now, maybe Miss Coulter would have simply said: Sergeant, go get that 
grenade--or maybe just turned around and run further away, leaving a 
live grenade, with a pin or without a pin, in the middle of a landing 
zone.
  Max did what a good soldier does. We used to say at West Point: A 
good soldier marches to the sound of guns. And that is what he did when 
he picked up the grenade. He was horribly wounded. Everything was 
broken except his spirit.
  But the fear that it was his grenade, that it was a dumb accident, 
was allayed years later. This is an article in Esquire magazine:

       He lives with the fact that he asked for it. He was in 
     college during Vietnam and left to join the Army because he'd 
     always gone toward the action.

  ``March to the sound of the guns.''

       He became the aide to a general stateside and fought to get 
     shipped to 'Nam.

  He fought to go to Vietnam.

       Once in country, he was an army captain and saw little 
     combat and fought to be sent into Khe Sanh.

  Closer to the action--

       And when Khe Sanh was over and they were mopping up, he 
     almost bought the farm.
       For thirty-one years, he figured it was his fault. Before 
     he jumped out of the chopper, he'd checked his grenades to 
     make sure the pins that activated them were bent and could 
     not accidently fall out. Straight pins can get you killed. 
     The next thing he knew, he was on the ground and saw a 
     grenade beneath him. And then for thirty-one years he heard 
     that explosion and thought, ``I've blown myself up with my 
     own grenade.'' He got decorations but would have none of 
     them, because to Max Cleland they sure . . . didn't cover a 
     man who blows himself up. Then, this spring--

  This was August 1999--

       He was on a television show and told his story about that 
     day at Khe Sanh, and later a guy called up and said, Hey, I 
     was there, it wasn't your grenade, I saw it. And Cleland 
     checked the caller out, and it seems the guy really was 
     there. And this year--

  In 1999--

       Max celebrated Being Alive Day with him down in Georgia.

  This is not an accurate portrayal of the service and sacrifice of Max 
Cleland. It is unprincipled and scurrilous. It defames him, and it 
defames people who wear the uniform of the United States.
  She is not through yet:

       Cleland wore the uniform, he was in Vietnam, and he has 
     shown courage by going on to lead a productive life. But he 
     didn't ``give his limbs for his country,'' or leave them ``on 
     the battlefield.'' There was no bravery involved in dropping 
     a grenade on himself with no enemy troops in sight. That 
     could have happened in the Texas National Guard----

  There is plenty of bravery there, the bravery of leading men in 
difficult circumstances, in the sight of the enemy or out of the sight 
of the enemy. It was the bravery of understanding instinctively that 
you could not leave a live grenade rolling around in a landing zone. It 
was the bravery of being willing to be with his men even though he 
could have easily dropped them off, waved from the helicopter, and 
flown off to a happy life, 1 month before his return to the United 
States.
  It disturbs me about Max, but Max is quite a man. But this also 
disturbs me about--what does it say about our soldiers today in Iraq, 
about the soldiers I visited, National Guardsmen and regular soldiers, 
at Walter Reed, who were injured, critically injured, in vehicle 
accidents and other mishaps that are part of a combat operation?
  They did not sacrifice their limbs and their spines for our country? 
Is that

[[Page 1995]]

what she is saying? Is that what we are going to say when we pat them 
on the back and say thanks for your service? There are no excuses for 
this kind of unprincipled attack on an individual, unsubstantiated by 
the record, an attack, as I say again and again, not only denigrates 
Max Cleland, it denigrates everyone who wore the uniform of the United 
States and wears it today. It denigrates particularly those 
individuals--and I must again emphatically say, I did not serve in 
combat--but those individuals who today serve in a combat area, who 
wake up every morning thinking it may be their last moment, who wake up 
every morning thinking that they may have to order people to do things 
that will cost them their lives.
  It is an experience that I have not known, very few people in this 
Chamber have known. It is the mark of true heroism and courage, and day 
in and day out men like Max Cleland do it. And to suggest that he is 
not a hero, to suggest that his sacrifice was some type of stunt gone 
bad, some type of foolishness is beneath contempt.
  I yield the floor.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. The minority leader.
  Mr. DASCHLE. Mr. President, I commend the distinguished Senator from 
Rhode Island for his powerful words and for sharing his insights with 
us on this extraordinary demonstration of verbal violence. He has laid 
out the record very well.
  I am appalled that anybody could say the things that the Senator from 
Rhode Island has now reported having been said by Miss Coulter. I thank 
him for setting the record straight.
  I would take it one step further. I think Miss Coulter owes Max 
Cleland an apology, and every other veteran in this country an apology. 
For anyone to say that somebody could possibly be lucky to experience 
the explosion of a grenade in Vietnam, that somehow that is lucky, just 
defies all common sense, all decency, any appreciation for the 
magnitude of the sacrifice given by any veteran under any 
circumstances.
  She ought to apologize. She ought to be ashamed. How low does 
political discourse in this country have to go before somebody says 
``enough''? How could you possibly say things like this for political 
gain, recognizing that this isn't just an affront to one soldier but to 
all soldiers? To minimize sacrifice, and to minimize the extraordinary 
circumstances of one's life as a result of that sacrifice, is just 
inexplicable.
  I am grateful to the Senator from Rhode Island for his passion, his 
words, and for the effort he has made tonight to set the record 
straight.
  I yield the floor and suggest the absence of a quorum.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. The clerk will call the roll.
  The assistant journal clerk proceeded to call the roll.
  Mr. FRIST. Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the order for 
the quorum call be rescinded.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. Without objection, it is so ordered.

                          ____________________