[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 151 (2005), Part 18]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages 24842-24844]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




THE GREATEST GENERATION AUTHOR TOM BROKAW ADDRESSES THE ASSOCIATION OF 
                         THE UNITED STATES ARMY

                                 ______
                                 

                           HON. FRANK R. WOLF

                              of virginia

                    in the house of representatives

                      Wednesday, November 2, 2005

  Mr. WOLF. Mr. Speaker, I just had the chance to read the speech given 
in October by Tom Brokaw, television journalist and former NBC news 
anchorman and managing editor of ``NBC Nightly News with Tom Brokaw,'' 
at the Association of the United States Army, AUSA. He was presented 
with the association's highest award--the Marshall Medal, awarded 
annually to an individual who has exhibited ``selfless service to the 
United States of America,'' according to the association.
  The AUSA Council of Trustees chose Brokaw to receive the 2005 George 
Catlett Marshall Medal and recognize him for his lifetime contributions 
as a journalist, reporter, editor, broadcaster and author. I share his 
address here and commend to our colleagues the speech by Mr. Brokaw, 
the author of The Greatest Generation, the story of Americans who came 
of age during the Great Depression and fought World War II, and went on 
to build America. I call attention to Mr. Brokaw's observations of the 
common sacrifices of the Greatest Generation during World War II and 
the comparison with today, as our men and women in uniform are fighting 
to defend our freedoms, ``we ask too few sacrifices at the civilian 
level.''

       You know in my business, I'm often in settings where they 
     talk about stars. I'm seldom in a setting with so many stars, 
     that have been earned, not just assigned to them by some 
     gossip columnist, and it's a rare honor and a great privilege 
     for me to be with all of you tonight here on the dais and in 
     this great auditorium.
       So many people have come up to me to say, on this occasion 
     and others, I love your book. When I set out to write it, I 
     had no idea of the richness of the journey that I was about 
     to embark on. It really began on the 40th anniversary of D-
     Day, when I went to Normandy for a week to do a documentary 
     about that momentous military landing that really changed the 
     course of history. I thought, we'll have a good time, we'll 
     drink some wine, and maybe we'll drink a lot of wine, and 
     we'll have some good meals, and we'll hear some war stories.
       And on the first day of filming, I walked down to the 
     beach, with two men from Big Red One, one of whom went on to 
     earn the Medal of Honor later. One was without legs that he 
     lost in later action. And as I looked at them, I realized 
     that Harry Garton and Gino Merli were the kinds of people 
     that I had known all my life. They were my schoolteachers and 
     ministers, the businessmen for whom I worked. Their wives 
     looked like the mothers of all my friends; they looked like 
     my parents' best friends. They were there in their 
     windbreakers, and as we walked onto Omaha Beach, they paused 
     at their first return and began very softly to remember what 
     it had been like that day.
       And within about 20 minutes, I had undergone a 
     transformational experience, the likes of which I had not 
     known as a professional journalist. And their stories, and 
     the stories that I began to collect after that, resonated not 
     just with me, but with this country in a way that I could not 
     have anticipated. Now there have been some who have 
     challenged my declaration that this was the greatest 
     generation. My answer to them is, that's my story, and I'm 
     sticking to it.
       But I believe the generation that came of age in the Great 
     Depression, when life was about sacrifice and deprivation, 
     about dropping out of school, not to buy a video game or a 
     car for yourself, but to put food on the table, when sharing 
     meant sharing a pair of shoes or a shirt or a jacket. They 
     didn't double date, they went three and four couples to a 
     car, to a movie that cost a dime, and went back to someone's 
     home at the end of the night to play the piano, and have 
     coffee and cake.
       And they never gave up on their country, even though times 
     were difficult, and just

[[Page 24843]]

     when they were beginning to emerge from those dark days 
     economically, this country summoned them to distant 
     battlefields, across the Atlantic and across the Pacific. And 
     what the British military historian John Keegan has called 
     the greatest single event in the history of mankind--World 
     War II. They fought on six of the seven continents, all the 
     skies, and on all the seas and beneath them as well, and won. 
     Fifty million people had perished, and nations had been 
     realigned, and we were forced to face harsh truths about the 
     cruelties of mankind in the middle of the 20th century.
       But they came home from all of that, and they gave us new 
     art and new science and new industry. A number of them 
     continued in the military. Those who did not, did not just 
     lay down their arms and say I've done by share. They went 
     back to their hometowns and their states, and they ran for 
     mayor and the school board and for the church board trustees. 
     They ran for Senator and for Congress, and they ran for 
     President of the United States, and they took their place in 
     the front ranks of public service.
       And no one represented their leadership more profoundly, I 
     believe, than the man that you honor here tonight--George 
     Marshall--who I believe is the most single, underappreciated 
     20th century American, and one of the most underappreciated 
     Americans of all time.
       A warrior, a diplomat, and a visionary. And so I am deeply 
     humbled by this award. And for those of you who only know it 
     from one side of the television screen, not the other, let me 
     just confirm what you're thinking--it's not easy for an 
     anchorman to express humility. Let me also say that I'm very 
     pleasantly surprised to know that I'm the first journalist to 
     receive this award.
       I have some good news and some bad news for you. 
     Journalists and warriors come from the same DNA. I said this 
     first at the War College, and I thought that the colonels in 
     the audience were going to storm the stage. We like 
     unconventional lives. We can deal with authority, but we know 
     when to bristle about authority. We like living off the land. 
     We like catching the bad guys and holding them up for 
     appropriate punishment. And most of all, we're patriots, who 
     love our country. And the definition of patriotism for me is 
     love your country and always know that it can be better, and 
     that it is the obligation of every citizen to try to make it 
     better, every day.
       On these occasions, I like to remind people that I've had 
     the privilege in the last two years, three years especially, 
     of working side by side, night after night, day after day, 
     both in this country and abroad, with three of your best--
     General Wayne Downing, who is here tonight, General Monty 
     Meigs and General Barry McCaffrey. And I must say as a full 
     blown civilian, it gave me a certain amount of pleasure to 
     say to these four stars, okay men, listen up. We're coming 
     out in 30 seconds, we've got a minute 30 to go--McCaffrey, 
     don't do all the talking, let Meigs in on this for awhile.
       And they were thoroughly professional, and it was not only 
     a joy for me to work with them side by side, but it was a 
     great service to this country to have their expertise and 
     their candor and their truth-telling, as the war went on in 
     the early stages, and then after that.
       Now it is sometimes an adjustment. During Operation Desert 
     Storm, I was joined at the desk at NBC, night after night, 
     hour after hour, by one of your great, great figures, the 
     late Colonel Harry Summers, who was a real expert on infantry 
     tactics, a plainspoken man, who kept his military bearing 
     even in a television studio. But about the fifth night of the 
     war, at about three o'clock in the morning, we were kind of 
     operating on fumes at this point, and I refuse on those 
     occasions to have a conventional meal; I said just keep 
     sending out plates of fresh food of some kind, that will keep 
     me going; I don't want to get bogged down with dinner; I've 
     got too many other things to worry about.
       And finally about the 18th little dish of chopped fruit 
     arrived on my desk, and I couldn't even bear to look at it, 
     and I finally slid it across to Harry Summers. He looked down 
     at it for a long moment and he said, ``I don't know what's 
     happened to me. First I let them put hairspray and makeup on 
     me--now I'm eating fresh fruit.'' But we found a way to get 
     along.
       Let me just take a little bit of your time, if I can, to 
     offer some adjurations on the profession that brings you here 
     tonight and our collective place in this society. A few 
     months ago, at a conference of billionaires, moguls, titans, 
     movers and shakers, Monty Meigs arranged for a panel of U.S. 
     Army battalion commanders from Iraq and Afghanistan to 
     present their view of what is happening in their sectors.
       It was a dazzling performance by these best and brightest 
     lieutenant colonels. They were energetic, they were 
     articulate, funny, and fully at ease in a roomful of folks 
     who represented a slightly higher pay grade than they did.
       They complained, mildly, that their good works and 
     accomplishments had not received enough press attention, and 
     then they engaged in a friendly but pointed exchange with 
     three of us who represented the media at that conference.
       Their performance and their bearing represented what I have 
     been encountering for some time in my dealings with the 
     American military in distant battlefields and military bases 
     in this country, away from the constraints of the Pentagon.
       The other guests, who represented enormous financial, 
     industrial, social and political strength and power in 
     America, were bedazzled to the point of full immersion 
     infatuation. They rushed to the stage to express their 
     enthusiasm for what they had just heard. They turned to me, 
     and to Tom Friedman of The New York Times and Donald Graham, 
     the publisher of The Washington Post, demanding to know why 
     they had not heard these stories before, why they had not 
     read of the brilliance and the character of line officers in 
     the field.
       That night at dinner these four lieutenant colonels were 
     rock stars among groupies, as everyone from Bill Gates at 
     Microsoft and Warren Buffet and Phil Knight of Nike gathered 
     around to continue their adulation, to suggest lecture tours 
     across America, to participate in corporate motivation 
     sessions and to commiserate with them as well about the 
     absence of press coverage.
       I was at once amused and determined to use this as an 
     opening to address what I believe is a growing problem in 
     American life. The next day it turns out that I was the 
     guest, the sole interview before the same collection of 
     powerful elites. And I took that opportunity to remind the 
     audience that what they heard the day before, had been, in 
     fact, widely reported, often at great risk--day in and day 
     out--for three years on all the print and electronic news 
     outlets. Perhaps not exactly as the young officers would have 
     liked, but reported nonetheless. And even the officers gave 
     me a sly smile and said you're right on that.
       Moreover, for those in the audience who believed that these 
     young battalion commanders were some kind of an elite all-
     star team handpicked by the Pentagon, I was happy to correct 
     that impression. I told that gathering of moguls and titans, 
     I've met hundreds more like them. They are exceptional 
     officers, but they're not the exception.
       Furthermore what they're doing in their commands in Iraq 
     and Afghanistan may be news to you, but it's not news to 
     communities and neighbors of mine in Big Timber, Montana, or 
     in hamlets in South Carolina, or barrios in East Los Angeles 
     or the working class neighborhoods of Detroit, or the small 
     towns of the Great Plains. In those communities, they pay 
     attention, because it is their sons and daughters, and 
     fathers and mothers, who are in harm's way in those distant 
     places.
       General Meigs performed an important public service that 
     week in Sun Valley by reminding that audience of the place of 
     the military, not just in our national security 
     considerations, but also in our social and political 
     construct as a nation. Indisputably, this country has the 
     finest military in the history of mankind.
       It is a superior force at every measurable level, made up 
     entirely by volunteers, fully integrated ethnically and in 
     terms of gender.
       Unfortunately, it's also a military that in too many 
     families, in too many communities and especially in too many 
     corporate suites and boardrooms, country clubs and other 
     gathering places for the elite, it is a military that is out 
     of sight and out of mind. It is separate and distinct from 
     the day-to-day concerns of too many Americans, especially to 
     the elites with their hands on the power. That's not just 
     inappropriate; it is unacceptable and even dangerous to a 
     democratic society.
       One of the enduring lessons I have learned from my interest 
     in and association with what I call the greatest generation, 
     is the long-term beneficial effect of an organic relationship 
     between a civilian society and its military.
       World War II was obviously a unique undertaking, requiring 
     millions of people in uniform, a re-ordering its civilian 
     priorities and common sacrifices for a common commitment.
       I have come to believe that one of the unheralded dividends 
     at the end of the war for America was the maturation, the 
     discipline, the ethos of teamwork young men and women in 
     their 20s brought back to their civilian lives.
       Now young Americans who are not in uniform like to say, 
     they're ``finding themselves'' in their 20s, or they're 
     ``exploring other options'' in life. The greatest generation 
     found themselves in distant battlefields or in great sea 
     battles, or in dogfights in the air--they found themselves on 
     factory floors or in shipyards, in the daily rationing of 
     meat and gasoline and luxury items.
       What they learned in those life-altering experiences, they 
     applied to the building of this country, to the expansion of 
     freedom, and most of all, to the ordering of priority for the 
     common good. And because their experience had been so shared 
     at every level, there was a common appreciation of the place 
     of the military. Now we ask too few sacrifices at the 
     civilian level.
       There are the yellow ribbons and the welcome home signs, 
     but for too many Americans those are more ornamental than 
     organic to their own daily lives.

[[Page 24844]]

       A distinguished American historian wrote recently of our 
     mercenary military conjuring up images of young warriors who 
     are motivated only by paychecks, in effect, contract killers. 
     That's a profoundly erroneous conclusion. It is more widely 
     shared, however, than we may care to acknowledge.
       So who's to blame for this schism in our national 
     definition? Ladies and gentlemen I would suggest that we all 
     are.
       Our political leaders in both parties are not sufficiently 
     addressing the gap with their constituents. They're not 
     asking their constituents to make even token sacrifices, as a 
     reminder that there is a war underway. They're not 
     encouraging their financial patrons--the special interests 
     that help elect them to office--to take a more active role in 
     implementing a better understanding of the place of the 
     military in our lives and in the world.
       Now it's just as well that our military establishment needs 
     to no longer confine itself, by-and-large, to its own 
     culture. It no longer should be as defensive as it can be, 
     when it finds itself under fire.
       The media have been too focused on the triumphs and 
     shortcomings on the battlefield, too unimaginative in dealing 
     with the complexities of the military/political structure, as 
     well as the manpower, the financial and the policy issues.
       No institution in America is as representative of this 
     great immigrant nation with all our varied parts as the 
     military, and we need to be reminded of that on a daily 
     basis.
       Too many citizens are willing to assume that defending the 
     country is an assignment best left to someone else, that it's 
     not a personal or family obligation or calling. In the modern 
     culture there are too few people around to challenge that.
       No one wants to return to a World War to reclaim a 
     continuing relationship between the civilian population and 
     the military. But neither is it in our national interest to 
     have two populations--one in uniform and one not--with little 
     or no connectivity.
       The greatest accomplishment of the greatest generation was 
     not just on the battlefield. It was in the post-war 
     continuation of a commitment to a whole nation, civilian and 
     military, each respectful and mindful of their relationship 
     and role assigned them in advancing the national interests.
       It is time for a new generation to re-activate that 
     greatness--in uniform and out.
       Then perhaps, when my great, great granddaughter is ready 
     to write her book about our generation, she will be able to 
     say, ``They, too, met the test.''

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