[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 151 (2005), Part 11]
[Senate]
[Pages 15280-15283]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                       HONORING OUR ARMED FORCES


                    Specialist James ``Jim'' Miller

  Mr. DeWINE. Mr. President, I today honor the memory of Army SPC James 
``Jim'' Miller, IV. The West Chester, OH, native died on January 30, 
2005, when an improvised explosive device hit his convoy near Ramadi, 
Iraq. He was 22 years old.
  That date--January 30, 2005--should sound familiar. It was an 
historic day on which Iraqi citizens participated in their first, truly 
democratic election. And Jim Miller, an Army medic, was an integral 
part of that remarkable day.
  Having already treated three of his wounded comrades, Jim could have 
stayed at an aid station to wait out the dangerous Election Day. 
Instead, he volunteered to go back out to the streets and help 
safeguard Iraqis waiting at polling places. To some, Jim's choice to do 
that might have seemed like an extraordinary act. But, with Jim, such 
actions were typical. That's just the way he was--always choosing to be 
brave, always choosing to be selfless. He was, indeed, a hero.
  Jim Miller was one of those people who left an impression on everyone 
he met. He was always courteous, polite, and quick to laugh--a laugh 
that those who knew him describe as soft, gentle, and distinct. Jim was 
a very intelligent

[[Page 15281]]

young man--wise beyond his years. His pee-wee football coach and 
mentor, John Hayden, said of Jim's intelligence:

       He had the most sophisticated, elaborate vocabulary of any 
     young boy I'd ever seen. [After every football practice], he 
     would send me home looking to the dictionary for what he had 
     called me that day!

  The oldest--and biggest--of three brothers, Jim had many passions, 
one of which was football. In pee-wee football, he was an offensive 
lineman who proudly called himself a ``B-U-B,'' or ``Big Ugly Body.'' 
Jim excelled at football and played until his sophomore year at 
Anderson High School. But, according to John Hayden, under the large, 
intimidating physique, Jim was still just ``a big teddy bear. . . . He 
was . . . a sensitive kid with a lot of depth.''
  Tragically, during his sophomore year of high school Jim's mother, 
Alice, died of breast cancer. He turned inward to find purpose and 
solace. At that time, Jim discovered another passion--and that was 
music. He started a band, in which he played the guitar, and during his 
senior year, he signed up for music theory and music history classes.
  His principal, Diana Carter, remembers him as a ``very bright, 
insightful, and mature young man--an independent spirit.'' She was also 
impressed with his decision to take music theory and music history 
because it was an extra bit of dedication to music that many musicians 
don't exhibit. It seems Jim was always a bit more dedicated to the 
things he was passionate about.
  Jim graduated from Anderson in 2001 and decided to attend Xavier 
University and study English. After 18 months, though, Jim realized 
that college was not providing him with the fulfillment he desired. As 
his father, James Miller, III knew, ``[Jim] was the type of kid who was 
always looking inside himself.'' When he looked inside himself, Jim 
found that what he really wanted was to join the Army. He enlisted in 
April, 2003. He completed basic training at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, and 
then decided to train as a medic at Fort Sam Houston in Texas.
  Becoming an Army medic was the fulfillment for which Jim searched. He 
felt a sense of purpose and pride in saving the lives of his fellow 
servicemembers. Father Harry Meyer, who presided at the funeral 
liturgy, said this about Jim:

       [He was a] sensitive young man who was struggling to find 
     his place in this world. He found himself as a medic and had 
     decided to pursue a career in the medical field. He was 
     happiest when he was able to serve others and felt helpless 
     when he could not.

  In planning for the future, Jim hoped to work in a trauma unit 
someday, so he could continue to provide life saving assistance to 
those in dire need.
  After a year as a medic in Korea, Jim was deployed to Iraq in August 
of 2004 with the Army's 1st Battalion, 503rd Infantry Regiment, 2nd 
Infantry Division. Jim believed in his mission in Iraq and, according 
to his father, Jim found that most Iraqis he talked with believed in it 
too: ``He was surprised to find out that the Iraqi people were fed up 
with the insurgents and wanted to take back their country.'' True to 
his nature, Jim became determined to help the Iraqi people realize 
their dreams of freedom.
  It was Jim's usual ``extra bit'' of determination that led him back 
out to the streets of Iraq on Election Day. He was determined that the 
Iraqi people would be free to vote safely.
  In the beginning of my remarks I called SPC James Miller a ``hero.'' 
But, in today's world, what does that term truly mean? To define Jim 
Miller's heroism I turn to Ralph Waldo Emerson, who wrote:

       A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is brave 5 
     minutes longer.

  Jim decided to leave the safety of college and enlist in the Army. In 
doing so, he was brave 5 minutes longer.
  Jim dutifully answered the call of his country when he was deployed 
to Iraq. In doing so, he was brave 5 minutes longer.
  On January 30, 2005 Jim--Doc Miller--volunteered to protect the lives 
of Iraqis waiting to vote. In doing so, he was brave five minutes 
longer.
  That is why I choose to call him Jim Miller a hero.
  My wife Fran and I continue to keep Jim's father and stepmother, 
James and Jodi, and his brothers, Dan and Jeff, in our thoughts and 
prayers.


                         Specialist Ryan Martin

  Mr. President, at all military funeral services it is traditional for 
a lone bugle to sound ``Taps.'' It is a powerful piece of music that 
calls us to remember the fallen and honor their sacrifice. Upon its 
origin, however, ``Taps'' was actually a common bugle call that 
signified ``Lights Out.'' The call told soldiers that it was time to 
end their activities and conversations and turn in for the night. The 
history of ``Taps'' is significant because it reminds us not only of 
the sacrifices of the men and women it is played for, but also of the 
men and women, themselves.
  That call for ``Lights Out'' has been played for countless service 
men and women as they were undoubtedly talking with each other about 
their homes, or about their spouses and children, or about just a hot 
shower or a good meal. These men and women were and are heroes who put 
their lives on hold to safeguard the lives of others. Taps plays as 
much for the lives they gave up as for the lives they gave.
  I today honor one of these heroes--Army SPC Ryan Martin, from Mt. 
Vernon, OH, who gave his life on August 20, 2004, near Samarra, Iraq, 
when a roadside explosive detonated near his vehicle. He was 22 years 
old.
  Ryan Martin, the youngest of three boys, grew up enjoying hunting, 
sports, and fixing cars. He was always willing to help his father, Tom, 
work on his cattle farm. With his keen mechanical skills and interest 
in fixing cars combined with his love for the outdoors, Ryan was a big 
fan of ``mud running.'' This is a recreational or competitive activity 
in which 4 x 4 vehicles navigate a course of thick, muddy terrain. 
According to Matt Hull, one of Ryan's friends, Ryan planned to buy some 
land when he returned from Iraq and create his own place for mud 
running--a place where he could enjoy being outside and spending time 
having fun with his friends and family.
  Ryan had a knack for ``hands-on'' work and mechanics. These skills 
led him to study at Knox County Career Center. Ryan graduated from Mt. 
Vernon High School and the Career Center in 2000, with training as a 
carpenter. He then spent a few years working with heavy machinery at 
construction sites.
  The September 11th terrorist attacks changed everything for Ryan. 
According to his father, the attacks had a profound effect on Ryan. He 
felt a sense of duty to protect his country and to seek out those who 
had harmed so many. And so, after much contemplation, in April 2003, 
Ryan enlisted in the Ohio Army National Guard. He then volunteered for 
active duty in February 2004.
  Ryan wanted to be part of the effort to rebuild Iraq, hastening the 
development of democracy and making the world a more stable and safe 
place for all of us. He operated bulldozers, excavators, and mine 
clearing machinery with the 216th Engineering Battalion, based out of 
Chillicothe, OH. At its core, Ryan's service to our country was a 
humanitarian service to the Iraqi people. He used his mechanical 
expertise to build roads, dig foundations for new buildings, and clear 
deadly mines from roads and fields.
  Ryan built not only infrastructure in Iraq, but also lasting 
friendships with his fellow soldiers. According to his stepmother, 
Jackie Martin, on the eve of a 2-week leave from Iraq, Ryan said that 
``he was looking forward to coming home, but when it came time to pack 
up, he didn't want to leave his buddies. He really made some good 
friendships and bonded with others while he was there.''
  Ryan is remembered fondly by his friends and comrades, who called him 
``Little Bear''--referencing his 6' 2", 240 pound body. One of his 
buddies, Sergeant Ron Eaton, recalls Ryan's sense of humor:

       [Ryan would] get us to laugh in extremely harsh situations. 
     I remember talking in our bunks one night, and hearing him 
     tell of how he purchased a semi truck just after his 16th 
     birthday, without his parent's knowledge. They made him sell 
     it back, but knowing Ryan, that's just the kind of thing he 
     would do.


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  Risking his life to protect his friends was also the kind of thing 
Ryan would do--and did do. Ryan's father, Tom Martin, said that at a 
military ball he attended after Ryan's death, a general came up to him 
and told him that ``when there was trouble, [Ryan] didn't stand behind 
people and he didn't stand beside them--he stood in front of them.''
  Ryan was always willing and eager to volunteer for dangerous 
missions, missions that had the protection of others as their goal. In 
the words of one of his commanding officers:

       Ryan [made] work much safer for other soldiers.

  When he was killed, Ryan was doing just that: making the area more 
secure for his comrades, as he helped clear deadly mines and other 
detonation devices from the vital highway so his fellow soldiers--his 
friends--could do their jobs more safely.
  Mr. President, as we all know, our Armed Forces are made up of men 
and women from all of our communities, people who are volunteering 
their time, sacrificing their safety and their lives to serve on our 
behalf. It is through their service that they spread democracy and help 
make our world safer.
  That is what Ryan Martin did. He built roads and houses, cleared 
mines, and made friends. In doing all of it, he was making the world a 
better place. He ultimately gave his life, a life that was just 
beginning, and he did so so that others could have a fresh start and a 
better tomorrow.
  Mr. President, when I mentioned earlier the calling of ``Taps,'' I 
did not mention the words that go along with the bugle call. Let me now 
read those words:

     Day is done,
     Gone the sun,
     From the Earth, from the hill, from the sky.
     All is well,
     Safely rest,
     God is nigh.

  While the men and women for whom ``Taps'' is played are gone from 
this Earth, we can take solace in knowing that they may now ``safely 
rest.'' The Sun may have set, but it will rise again and a new day will 
dawn. And with every new day, we will always remember the sacrifice and 
service of those who have fallen.
  My wife Fran and I continue to keep Ryan's family in our thoughts and 
in our prayers.


      Army Staff Sergeant Aaron Reese and Army Sergeant Todd Bates

  Mr. President, I, today, honor two men from Ohio who gave their lives 
in the defense of freedom. Army SSG Aaron Reese and Army SGT Todd Bates 
were from two different parts of Ohio. They grew up with different life 
experiences and different kinds of opportunities. However, when both 
became members of the 135th Military Police Company of the Ohio Army 
National Guard, their lives became irrevocably linked.
  All of our armed services, all of our Armed Forces' members, serve 
this country with pride and with a sense of duty. Whether it is a 
mission deep in the mountains of Afghanistan or a night patrol on the 
Tigris River or in the back alleys of Fallujah, the men and women in 
our military serve with a great sense of responsibility for the safety 
and security of those in their own units. They care about each other. 
Our men and women in uniform feel a unique connection to each other. 
They see each other as brothers. They see each other as sisters. And 
they are willing to put their own lives on the line so their comrades 
will be safe. They do it every single day.
  It was this dual sense of duty--to their country and to their fellow 
service members--that put Staff Sergeant Reese and Sergeant Bates in 
harm's way on December 10, 2003. You see, their squad was on a night 
patrol boat mission on the Tigris River. At some point during the 
mission, Staff Sergeant Reese, who was the squad leader, lost his 
balance, and he fell from the boat, plunging into the swift, murky 
waters of the Tigris.
  Seeing his leader fall into the river, Sergeant Bates acted 
immediately. He quickly discarded his heavy body armor and weapon, and, 
without a life jacket, he dove into the river in an attempt to save 
Staff Sergeant Reese.
  Mr. President, Members of the Senate, tragically--tragically--the 
river was too strong for them both.
  In William Shakespeare's play ``Henry V,'' the title character 
delivers a stirring call to arms to rally his troops. Within this St. 
Crispin's Day speech, Henry tells his men that one day each one of them 
would ``strip [their] sleeves and show their scars,'' proud that they 
had fought and proud in knowing that they were a ``band of brothers''--
a ``band of brothers.''
  Aaron and Todd can no longer strip their sleeves and show us their 
scars, and so it is up to us to do that in their honor. It is up to us 
to remember their lives--lives that they each gave for our country and 
for their brothers.
  Aaron Reese was from Reynoldsburg, OH. He grew up, however, in Elida, 
OH, where he attended Elida High School. Aaron worked hard at both 
academics and athletics. His Latin teacher, Mike Herzog, said Aaron was 
``one of those you can't forget--always working hard, always smiling. 
He didn't have a bad day. He was always in a positive mood.''
  Aaron was a hurdler on the Elida Bulldogs track and field team and a 
defensive back on the football team. Aaron participated in sports with 
a quiet confidence. His principal, Don Diglia, cites Aaron's team-
oriented personality as his biggest leadership quality:

       He was the kind of guy who was content on being on the team 
     instead of being the star of the team. He was a team player 
     all around. . . .

  After graduating from Elida in the year 1990, Aaron decided to put 
his leadership qualities and physical prowess to the test. So he 
enlisted in the U.S. Army. He served 7 years. While on active duty in 
Central America, he met the love of his life. He married the love of 
his life, Emilia, and then they became the proud parents of a son, 
Anthony, and a daughter, Nicole.
  Wanting to spend more time with his new family, Aaron joined the Ohio 
Army National Guard. While serving in the Guard, Aaron also attended 
the Ohio State University and Columbus State. He planned to join the 
Cincinnati Police Department when he returned from Iraq.
  Aaron had been serving in the Guard for nearly 6 years when his unit 
was called up for Operation Iraqi Freedom. It was hard for Aaron to 
leave his wife and his son and his new baby, Nicole, who had been born 
only a few months before he was deployed.
  SGT Sheri Brown remembers seeing Aaron saying goodbye to his family 
in February of 2003 and describes it this way:

       His toddler son was playing in the snow. Aaron wept as he 
     cradled his baby and tried to say a few last words to his 
     wife.

  Aaron Reese cared for his family, but he also felt a strong 
obligation to his country and to his unit. It was an obligation that 
was not foreign to the Reese family. Aaron's grandfather, Paul Shafer, 
served in World War II. His uncle, James Shafer, was killed in Vietnam 
in 1967. Aaron also had two other uncles who served in the Armed 
Forces. As Aaron's father, Ed Reese, said:

       What you will see in our family is the red, white, and 
     blue.

  Indeed, Aaron's military heritage, experience, and leadership ability 
gave him confidence in his mission. The 135th Military Police Company 
was responsible for the safety of their fellow soldiers, for the 
training of Iraqi police, and for various support missions.
  Aaron Reese proudly led his unit in their tasks. Mr. President, 1LT 
William F. Lee had this to say of Aaron's service in Iraq:

       I had the privilege of leading this outstanding 
     noncommissioned officer in Operation Iraqi Freedom. I have 
     known Aaron for many years. We have served many deployments 
     together--some good and some not so good. Aaron executed his 
     duties with exceptional performance and was one of my best 
     leaders.

  First Lieutenant Lee's comments are a ringing endorsement of Aaron's 
consummate professionalism and dedication. He was a model soldier, 
someone whom others not only looked up to but also tried to emulate.
  SGT Timothy Haskamp had this to say:


[[Page 15283]]

       I had the great opportunity to serve with Aaron. Over the 
     months in Iraq, he taught me how to be a good NCO. He wasn't 
     just a fellow soldier and my squad leader, he was a friend 
     and someone who would do anything he could for you. I can 
     only imagine what a good father and husband he must have 
     been. As I continue my service, I will remember everything he 
     taught me and teach those things to all who serve under me in 
     the future.

  For those who served with Aaron, he was an anchor of strength, an 
experienced leader, who made it his personal mission to keep his men 
and women safe. April Engstrom, Aaron's sister, said that her brother 
loved the soldiers in his squad and wanted to protect them. Todd Bates' 
actions on that night in December, however, really speak to the love 
Aaron's squad also had for him.
  Aaron Reese leaves behind a wife, two small children, and a loving 
family. But he also leaves a legacy of leadership. He made a sacrifice 
so that his children and our children can live in a safer world. And 
for that a grateful Nation honors and remembers him.
  Army SGT Todd Bates was 20 years old when he dove into that dangerous 
Tigris River to try to save his squad leader, Aaron Reese. Todd Bates 
spent his all-too-short life growing up in Bellaire, OH, where he was 
raised by his grandmother, Shirley Bates. Todd was a fun-loving kid, 
who was loved dearly by his friends and family. One of his lifelong 
friends, Richard Kendle, remembers growing up in Bellaire with Todd. 
This is what he had to say:

       I knew Todd all my life. We went to school together from 
     kindergarten on up through graduation. I remember the many 
     days that I used to go over to his house and play video 
     games. Or, we'd go out in his backyard and shoot his BB gun. 
     I remember the meals that his grandmother prepared for us 
     after a day of play. Todd and I never had much growing up . . 
     . but we never knew it. We had families that loved us and a 
     friendship that would never die.

  Family and friends are important in Bellaire, OH. For many young men 
and women who grow up there, the two most promising paths to success 
are sports and the military. Todd Bates realized this and applied his 
tireless work ethic to both endeavors. At Bellaire High School, Todd 
excelled on the ``Big Reds'' football team. But he did not do so 
through just raw talent. Rather, Todd worked his way into the starting 
lineup. He worked his way there.
  More often than not, if you wanted to find Todd, all you had to do 
was look in the football weight room. His coach, John Magistro, thought 
Todd was humble, genuine, caring, and unselfish. And I quote him:

       He was a good player and he worked really hard.

  Todd's work ethic and attitude were recognized by his teammates on 
the 2000 ``Big Reds'' team. They voted him one of their cocaptains. And 
under Todd's leadership, Bellaire reached the State playoffs that year.
  Todd was recognized in Bellaire for being a leader of the football 
team, for being a quiet and respectful young man, and for his beloved 
car--called the ``Bates-mobile,'' by most people. His football coach 
remembers Todd, often in the school parking lot long after practice had 
ended, under his car's hood, trying to get it started. Reverend Donald 
Cordery also remembered the ``Bates-mobile.'' Reverend Cordery was an 
assistant football coach and a mentor to Todd. One day after practice, 
he asked Todd for a ride home:
  I said, ``Bates, what's the chance I could get a ride in your car?'' 
He said, ``Pastor Don, do you really want to take a ride in my car?'' I 
said, ``Bates, with my looks and your car, the ladies will be out!''
  Todd was respected by his peers, his teachers, and his community, but 
he wanted more. He wanted to go to college. He knew, though, that he 
wasn't going to be able to secure a football scholarship. Financially, 
that left Todd with very few options. So, after graduating from 
Bellaire High School in 2001, Todd decided to join the Ohio Army 
National Guard to make money for college.
  But, like many things in Todd's life, it wasn't easy. He had played 
as a lineman in high school and he had the body of a lineman. Todd was 
6 feet tall and 250 pounds--not quite the ideal weight for a National 
Guardsman. Todd needed to lose some weight if he hoped to get into the 
Guard. To qualify, Todd loaded a backpack with 50 pounds of weight and 
walked eight miles a day. He repeated this workout until he had lost 
fifty pounds. Todd was, indeed, a remarkable young man.
  As with his dedication to losing weight and to football, Todd brought 
the same focus and work ethic to his career in the Army. His drill 
sergeant, Jason Patrick, from Ft. Leonard Wood said this about Todd:

       Todd was a remarkable soldier and person--always striving 
     to be the very best and fully committing to every task at 
     hand. I watched this fine young American grow from civilian 
     to soldier. I watched as he endured everything I could throw 
     at him. I am proud to have trained him and extremely proud of 
     all he accomplished.

  After being deployed to Iraq in February of 2003, Todd continued to 
out-perform the expectations of his commanders. Brigadier General 
Ronald Young said of Todd, ``[He] was an exceptional soldier . . .  He 
served his assignments with great distinction, and his commanders have 
recognized his dedication to duty and personal leadership on several 
occasions.''
  Todd had a passion for what he was doing in the Guard and as with his 
other passions in life, he was the standard for hard work and 
excellence. While he was certainly a very focused young man, Todd also 
had a terrific sense of humor and never took anything too seriously.
  The other members of his unit remember Todd as a funny guy who was 
always trying to make tough, stressful situations a little easier with 
a joke. At the same time, Todd was always looking out for the other 
members of his unit. He felt connected to them--like they were all a 
big, extended family, who believed in the National Guard motto: ``Of 
the troops, for the troops.''
  When Todd Bates jumped into the Tigris River on that cold, December 
night, he was not thinking of himself. He was only thinking of his 
squad leader--his friend, his ``brother,'' Aaron Reese.
  Both Aaron Reese and Todd Bates gave their lives not thinking of 
themselves, but only thinking of us. They put our lives, Iraqi lives, 
and the lives of their fellow service men and women before their own. 
We will never forget their sacrifices.
  My wife, Fran, and I continue to keep the families of Aaron Reese and 
Todd Bates in our thoughts and in our prayers.

                          ____________________