[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 152 (2006), Part 17]
[Senate]
[Pages 22192-22193]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                         MARINE CORPS BIRTHDAY

  Mr. WARNER. Mr. President, I want to take a moment to commemorate an 
important event that took place on Veterans Day weekend. On November 
10, the Marine Corps Birthday, I was privileged to give the annual 
address at the revered Iwo Jima Memorial, and then to attend the 
dedication of the National Museum of the Marine Corps in Quantico, VA.
  This marvelous dedication featured remarks from President Bush, 
President of the Marine Corps Heritage Foundation General (Ret.) Ron 
Christmas and the distinguished news anchor and former marine, Jim 
Lehrer. They were joined by thousands of fellow marines--past and 
present--including Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, GEN Pete Pace, 
Commandant of the Marine Corps Michael Hagee and former Senators John 
Glenn and Chuck Robb.
  Especially moving was President Bush conferring our Nation's highest 
military decoration, the Medal of Honor, posthumously, on Cpl Jason 
Dunham, who was tragically killed outside the Iraqi town of Karabilah 
in 2004.
  For all who worked tirelessly to construct this wonderful museum that 
highlights the Marine Corps experience, that dedication ceremony became 
a tribute of a lifetime for all marines.
  On this week of Veterans' Day, and the Marine Corps Birthday, we 
remind ourselves that we are here solely because of the sacrifices of 
men and women who for 231 years now have worn our Nation's uniform to 
preserve our freedoms against outside enemies.
  Like the ``Devil Dogs'' of Belleau Wood, today's generation of 
Leathernecks--from the Commandant to the newest recruit at Parris 
Island--have answered one of the highest callings: serving as a marine 
for the greatest Nation on Earth.
  As President Reagan famously observed, ``some people spend an entire 
lifetime wondering if they have made a difference. Marines don't have 
that problem.''
  My good friend of many years, Jim Lehrer, gave a particularly 
inspired speech at the museum dedication that captured the fundamental 
nature of what it means to be a marine, and how that experience shaped 
him, as it did all of us, in our lives.
  I ask unanimous consent that his inspiring speech be printed in the 
Record as a tribute to all marines, former or current, around the 
world.
  There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

[[Page 22193]]



                           Tribute To Marines

                            (By Jim Lehrer)

       Mr. President, generals, colonels, majors, captains, 
     lieutenants, warrant officers, sergeants, corporals, 
     privates, ladies and gentlemen.
       We are the Marines. And in this museum, our story is told. 
     It is a single, monumental story, made up of 231 years of 
     many separate stories of heroism and courage, of dedication 
     and sacrifice, of service to our country and to our corps, of 
     honor and loyalty to each other in war and in peace; 231 
     years of professionalism and pride, of squared corners and 
     squared-away lockers, perfect salutes and good haircuts, 
     well-shined shoes, and eyes right, 231 years of Semper Fis 
     and DIs.
       First time I came to Quantico was 51 years ago. I came as 
     an officer candidate, a PLC on the train from Washington, 
     having just traveled from Texas on the first airplane ride of 
     my life. On the orders of a drill instructor, a DI, I fell in 
     at attention with 40 other candidates on the platform at the 
     train station over at Quantico.
       And the DI told us to answer up, ``Here, sir!'' when our 
     name was called. And he got to mine, and he said, ``Le-here-
     er-er.'' And, like some kind of idiot, I blurted out, ``It's 
     pronounced Lehrer, sir!''
       There was silence, absolute silence. And then I heard the 
     terrifying click, click, click of leather heels on the deck 
     of that train station platform coming in my direction. And 
     suddenly there he was, the DI, right in front of me, his face 
     right up in mine. And I paraphrase and cleanse it up a bit, 
     but he said, ``Candidate, if I say your name is Little Bo 
     Peep, your name is Little Bo Peep!''
       ``Do you hear me?'' Oh, I heard him all right. And I think 
     it was at that very moment that I really became a United 
     States Marine.
       I'm still one today, and I will remain one forever, as did 
     my late father, and as is my older and only brother.
       I came from a family of Marines into the family of Marines. 
     My father served in the 1920s under the great Smedley Butler 
     right here at Quantico. He saw combat in Haiti and came out a 
     corporal. My brother and I were both 1950s Cold War Marines 
     in the Third Marine Division in the Far East.
       Since our corps was founded on this day in 1775, there have 
     been more than 4 million men and women who have worn the 
     uniform of a United States Marine. This museum is about all 
     of them, including us three ``Le-here-er-ers,'' and even the 
     Little Bo Peeps. That's because this museum is about what it 
     means to be a Marine, no matter the time, the length, place, 
     rank, or nature of the service.
       It's about the shared experience and the shared knowledge 
     that comes from being a U.S. Marine, such as knowing that you 
     are only as strong and as safe as the person on your right 
     and on your left; that a well-trained and motivated human 
     being can accomplish almost anything; that being pushed to do 
     your very best is a godsend; that an order is an order, a 
     duty is a duty, that responsibility goes down the chain of 
     command, as well as up, as do loyalty and respect; that 
     leadership can be taught, so can bearing, discipline and 
     honor; that ``follow me'' really does mean ``follow me''; and 
     that that Semper Fidelis really does mean ``always 
     faithful''; and that the Marines hymn is so much more than 
     just a song.
       My Marine experience helped shape who I am now personally 
     and professionally, and I am grateful for that on an almost 
     daily basis. And I often find myself wishing everyone had a 
     similar opportunity, to learn about shared dependence, 
     loyalty, responsibility to and for others, about mutual 
     respect and honor, and about the power of appealing to the 
     best that's in us as human beings, not the worst.
       As a journalist, there has been one overriding effect of my 
     Marine experience: While debates over sending Americans into 
     harm's way are always about issues of foreign policy, 
     geopolitics and sometimes even politics-politics, for me, 
     they are also always about young lance corporals and second 
     lieutenants and other very real people in all branches of the 
     U.S. military, people with names, ranks, serial numbers, 
     faces, families, and futures that may never be.
       When Marines stand for or sing the Marines' hymn, as we 
     will at the conclusion of this ceremony, it's never for 
     ourselves personally. It's always for the Marines who went 
     before us, with us, and after us, first and foremost for 
     those who gave their lives, their health, their everything at 
     places such as Tripoli, Belleau Wood, Haiti, Wake Island, 
     Guadalcanal, Peleliu, Iwo Jima, Chosin, Inchon, Danang, Khe 
     Sahn, Beirut, and Baghdad, Fallujah and Ramadi.
       The death rate among Marines in Iraq has been more than 
     double that of the other services. That's a first-to-fight, 
     first-wave pattern that has pretty much held since the 
     Revolutionary War, when 49 of the very first U.S. Marines of 
     our country died in combat. Their mission was aboard ship; 
     there are still Marines who serve at sea.
       There are others who fly and maintain jets and helicopters, 
     man the artillery, operate tanks and trucks, feed and supply 
     the troops, compute and collate, train and inspect, march and 
     make music, recruit, guard and escort, radio and communicate, 
     patrol and snipe, as well as save tsunami, earthquake and 
     other disaster victims around the world, collect toys at 
     Christmastime for American kids in need, stage a marathon run 
     through Washington, D.C., for charity, or do whatever else 
     needs to be done, particularly if the need is for it to be 
     done well and be done immediately.
       We are the Marines. And in the language of the rifle range, 
     we are always ready on the right, ready on the left, all 
     ready on the firing line, whatever kind of firing is 
     required, and wherever that line may be.

                          ____________________