Mr. Speaker, I am moved to commend to this House a thoughtful eulogy commemorating the life of one of America's finest: 1LT Andrew C. Shields. The eulogy was written and delivered by Brandon Steelman at First Lieutenant Shield's funeral at…
Mr. Speaker, I am moved to commend to this House a thoughtful eulogy commemorating the life of one of America's finest: 1LT Andrew C. Shields.
The eulogy was written and delivered by Brandon Steelman at First Lieutenant Shield's funeral at New Prospect Baptist Church, Campobello, South Carolina, on December 18, 2004.
Eulogy For a Fallen Soldier: First Lt. Andrew C. Shields
This past week has been filled with things that quite
simply can't be understood. While there are many larger and
more profound mysteries, one of the smaller mysteries I've
faced this week is why Andrew would have me give these
remarks today. Certainly, he had many friends who knew him
just as well, if not better, than I did. And certainly he
loved his family above all others. Each of those family
members would be better suited to make these remarks today;
after all, I didn't spend my childhood dressing like him as
Philip did! But I think I'm here because Andrew would be too
uncomfortable watching a beloved family member stand and
undoubtedly cry in remembrance of him. But he was always OK
when I stood up to embarrass myself. In fact, he encouraged
it. So I can't think of a better way to embarrass myself on
Andrew's behalf than to start with me, crying like a baby,
when I first heard the horrible news we've all been trying to
accept this past week.
One of my first thoughts was to turn to the Episcopalian
Book of Common Prayer. In it I quickly found a prayer I'd
like to share. Entitled For those in the Armed Forces of our
Country, it reads: . . .
Almighty God, we commend to your gracious care and keeping
all the men and women of our Armed Forces, at home and
abroad.
Defend them, day by day, with your heavenly grace;
Strengthen them, in their trials and temptations;
Give them courage, to face the perils which beset them;
And grant them a sense of your abiding presence, wherever
they may be; through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen.
I read that prayer three times: the first time, I was too
overcome with emotion to finish; the second, I was overcome
with guilt for not having said that prayer every day Andrew
had been away. But when I read it a third time, I realized
Andrew didn't need my prayerful requests on his behalf. This
prayer asks for a few important things, but Andrew had each
of those, and it didn't take a friend reciting an old prayer
to make them real for him.
The prayer asked for strength in his trials, but, Andrew
was already strong. He had a physical strength, sure: he
ultimately got bored wrestling me so he turned it into a game
of seeing how many time he could spin me in the air before
pinning me to the ground. But it wasn't just physical
strength that impressed so many people about Andrew. He had a
strength of character. Without that, how does one put on hold
a rewarding career, a promising salary, and the potential of
finding his dream girl, all to leave the comfort of his newly
constructed house for a far away land and a mission? Yes,
Andrew had strength.
The prayer asks for the benefits of heavenly grace. But
Andrew's faith was already based on grace. In a generation
where it's not cool to embrace religion, and not cool to hold
yourself to unwavering moral principles, Andrew was a rare
example of someone who not only incorporated religion into
their weekly schedule, but who let it guide every aspect
of his life. Andrew's soul was defended by grace long
before I read that prayer.
The prayer concludes by asking God to grant a sense of His
abiding presence. But those of us here are already comforted
by Andrew's faith, courage, and strength. We find comfort
knowing that as we say the words, ``wherever he may be,''
Andrew maintains a sense of God's abiding presence, for he is
graciously embraced by the spirit of our Heavenly Father.
This prayer helps me, even though initially too difficult
to read, because it reassures me to know Andrew's faith
guided his life and protects him beyond his death.
With a loss as great as Andrew, no single prayer will bring
us the comfort we seek. In search of that reassurance, I
visited a war memorial near my house. Inscribed there, in
black marble, is a quote by George Washington. In words too
long to recite today, he calls us to honor our nation's
veterans, for it's our appreciation now that will determine
the willingness of future generations to serve in wars to
come. That quote reminded me of how inspired Andrew had been
by his father's military service, and how proud he was to
serve as an aviator for the country that brought aviation to
the world. He considered the military an extended family and
would have been honored to know that, as George Washington
alluded, in honoring Andrew today, we prepare future
generations to join his extended family and defend our nation
as he so bravely did.
Shortly, uniformed pallbearers will place Andrew's body on
a horse-drawn carriage and, with full honors, give him a
farewell worthy of his immeasurable sacrifice. But it's
important to remember that Andrew never embraced recognition.
Before he left for Iraq, he visited a class of second
graders, who embraced him and adopted him as their pen-pal.
He was flattered when some of them asked for his autograph,
but told us later that he hadn't done anything heroic. As we
all know, Andrew is a hero. Those second graders recognized
that, as many of us did. But he didn't embrace our
recognition. In the wake of Sept 11, when he was learning to
fly his Apache, I spoke to him of his heroism, but he humbly
dismissed me, quickly joking that I must have been drinking.
Similarly, he would have blushed to see this much support
today, and while graciously accepting the honor bestowed upon
him by a grateful nation, he would want us to remember him
for those great moments he shared with us in life.
My sister, for example, said she will remember him as a
giant snowball tumbling down the ski slopes as were tried to
snowboard for the first time. I think memories like that
would make him happy. In his humility and simple faith, we
would bring him the most joy if today we honor him for the
hero he is, and tomorrow we remember him for the great person
he was.