[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 153 (2007), Part 11]
[Senate]
[Page 14842]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                       HONORING OUR ARMED FORCES


                  First Lieutenant Keith Neal Heidtman

  Mr. DODD. Mr. President, every Memorial Day, words fight a losing 
battle against action. Each year, as spring warms into summer, we pause 
our lives and bow our heads in safety, and grope for words to honor the 
men and women who have made that safety possible. Inevitably, we fail; 
we say ``fallen'' when we mean ``killed''; we say ``sacrifice'' for 
those who died unwillingly, in great pain. I believe we do so because 
we want to find a register for our voice to match the heroism of their 
work, but, also, because high words shield us from the immediacy of 
death in war. Even as we remember, we can't help looking away.
  But some lack that luxury. They are in Iraq and Afghanistan, and they 
are living the war we speak about. For 10 American soldiers in Iraq, 
Memorial Day was their last day.
  Last week, the Senate was out of session in commemoration of Memorial 
Day, but now that we have returned, I want to honor the memory of one 
of those 10 soldiers: Army 1LT. Keith Neil Heidtman. He was a native of 
Norwich and a graduate of the University of Connecticut. He was 24 
years old. On Monday, May 28, the helicopter he was copiloting crashed, 
likely brought down by enemy fire. Early the next morning, an Army 
chaplain brought the news to Lieutenant Heidtman's family.
  For Maureen and Arthur Robidoux, his mother and stepfather, for Kerry 
Heidtman, his father, for Chris Heidtman, his uncle, and for Keely 
Heidtman, his older sister, memories will never fill the place of the 
live they loved. ``If you had to pick your son, this is who you would 
pick,'' said Chris Heidtman. ``He was handsome, he was bright''. A star 
baseball player and a distinguished ROTC cadet, Lieutenant Heidtman 
volunteered for pilot training upon his graduation in 2005.
  He learned the value of service from his parents, both public 
servants themselves: his mother at the State Department of Children and 
Families, and his father in a State child-support program. His death 
reminds us that the highest service carries the highest cost. ``We're 
sending our finest, and we're losing them,'' said Lieutenant Heidtman's 
uncle.
  So today we honor one of our finest, who wore our uniform and died 
long before his time. Next Memorial Day, his name will join the rolls 
of our dead. I pray that by then time will have soaked up his family's 
tears. Next spring, we will bow our heads and look for words to do him 
justice. I don't believe those words exist. His best memorial will be 
in our silence.

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