[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 150 (2004), Part 9]
[Senate]
[Page 12455]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                          REMEMBRANCE OF D-DAY

  Mr. MILLER. Mr. President, D-Day happened when I was 12 years old. 
But I can remember it better than I can remember some things that 
happened last week. At that time my mother worked at the old Bell 
Bomber Plant in Marietta, GA, helping build B-29s or, as they were 
called back then, ``flying fortresses.''
  Sunday before last, I got to realize a lifelong dream, a visit to 
Normandy. I got to walk around Omaha and Utah beaches. I peered down 
those steep slopes at Pointe du Hoc. I sat spellbound and misty eyed as 
I listened to the magnificent speech of our President George W. Bush at 
that Sunday morning ceremony, amid those nearly 10,000 silent crosses 
and Stars of David, a sacred spot in the history of freedom, if ever 
there was one.
  I got to talk and meet with many of those members who are left of the 
``greatest generation.'' One sat in front of me at the ceremony with 
his two, big, good-looking, husky, raw-boned sons, who looked as if 
they were a couple of acorns that had not fallen too far from that 
sturdy oak. He came in with them a little stooped, moving slowly, an 
infantryman's blue badge and a Bronze Star proudly attached to his 
shirt. He told me he had come in on the first wave, ``loaded down with 
grenades,'' and later ``I threw them everywhere,'' he said. Mostly he 
was quiet, though.
  When our President began to speak, he almost reverently slightly 
bowed his head, obviously lost in the memory of that longest day long 
ago.
  I sat directly behind him and I couldn't see, but I think his eyes 
were closed. But he was hearing--no, he was feeling each and every 
touching word. When our President spoke of ``the whistles of shells 
from behind them, the white jets of enemy fire around them,'' on 
several occasions, he would nod softly as if saying to himself: That is 
exactly how it was.
  When the President talked of the sound of bullets hitting the steel 
ramps that were about to fall, he softly but visibly shivered in 
agreement and then a more vigorous nod, as his old body stiffened and 
he was once again that young warrior, that soldier of freedom, charging 
in to face the enemy, ``throwing those grenades everywhere,'' as he had 
put it earlier.
  His two big sons--strong men, you could tell--were in tears, 
unashamedly taking off their sunglasses and wiping their eyes with the 
back of their hands. They did not have any Kleenex. They were not 
exactly the tissue-carrying kind. I couldn't help but wonder, when was 
the last time these men had shown such emotion. How long had they 
talked and planned with their dad on this important moment in his life 
and the life of this country?
  He told me he lived in Florida now, and I am terribly ashamed I did 
not get his name. But I was hesitant, I was reluctant. I felt like I 
was intruding on a family gathering.
  I did talk with many others. I want to mention 2 whose names I did 
get, 2 who had been among the 100 awarded the prestigious French Legion 
of Honor: Marvin J. Perrett and Alan F. Reeves.
  Coxswain Perrett is from New Orleans and helped Stephen Ambrose put 
together that great D-Day museum located there. By the way, visit it, 
if you have a chance. It is magnificent. This coastguardsman had 
brought 36 men on to Omaha Beach in a landing craft on the first wave, 
after piloting them around for hours, around and around on that rough, 
choppy sea, but with those thick fumes and their own vomit gagging 
them. Something I had never known before, he also took a landing craft 
into Iwo Jima in the first wave and later Okinawa. That is what 
coastguardsmen did.
  I met Alan F. Reeves who had been part of General Eisenhower's 
Supreme Allied Command at one time and is still active with those 
members who are living. He gave me some insight into that great man who 
had commanded this greatest of all assaults in world history. He was 
fascinating and inspiring to talk with. He shared something else with 
me, a beautiful poem written by his son who once visited the cemetery 
with his father.
  I asked Mr. Reeves if I could have a copy of it, and I want to share 
it with the Senate. By Christopher Bromley Reeves of Delaware:

     Le cimetiere de St. Laurent, and all it holds
     Awaits the sixtieth recollection of why it is.
     Its rows on rows boxed by Austrian black pines,
     Their fallen cones scattered at the edge
     Calm, suspended from the world and time
     It observes the preparations undisturbed.
     Somewhere near, they'll build a stage
     For politicians, veterans, other dignitaries.
     They'll have their say, then wing their way,
     Adding little, detracting nothing.
     Fewer seats, more empty chairs,
     This commemoration.
     I'd rather wait within the esplanade of trees,
     Defer the grid of graves behind me,
     Lift a pine cone from the path,
     Roll it in my hand,
     Smell its earth and resin tar,
     Gaze across the cliff
     Beyond the beach,
     Drift the moment,
     Delay the turn.
     A weepy rain is in the air,
     But I can hear the hush press on my back,
     The quiet murmur of ten thousand
     Crosses sprung from planted souls,
     They no longer scream.
     The gentle yet relentless passage of these sixty years
     Does not diminish any sacrifice; it has removed the sting.
     Wounds have eased, their pains appeased.
     Time deftly folds the space between those lost and left,
     Eventually to wrap them all in common thought,
     Collected minds of how this place was wrought
     Wrap us
     In the mists creeping up the slopes,
     Seeping through the burial ground.
     Make free wind stall, and pine cone fall.
     Let no shadow touch the mall.
     The Channel's rough today.

  Mr. President, I yield the floor.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. The Senator from Alabama is recognized.
  Mr. SESSIONS. Mr. President, I thank the Senator from Georgia for his 
excellent works. Once again, he has shown he is one of the most 
eloquent Members of this body, if not the most eloquent. We are going 
to miss him. He still has a lot to do between now and the end of this 
session, but he has certainly done yeoman's service here. His tribute 
to those soldiers who were there on that special day many years ago is 
valuable to us all.
  Mr. President, I had the opportunity to accompany former Senator Phil 
Gramm to Pointe du Hoc in Normandy a few years ago. Tears were in his 
eyes when he showed us exactly where the Texans went up the hill at 
Pointe du Hoc. It was an incredible achievement.

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