Mr. Speaker, I rise today to honor Corporal Jonathan Yale and Lance Corporal Jordan Haerter, who grew up in different parts of this Nation but gave their lives to this country together in Iraq. Both have been nominated for the Navy Cross…
Mr. Speaker, I rise today to honor Corporal Jonathan Yale and Lance Corporal Jordan Haerter, who grew up in different parts of this Nation but gave their lives to this country together in Iraq. Both have been nominated for the Navy Cross for their actions on April 22, 2008, and both are owed a great gratitude by this Nation for their actions.
Tony Perry--a journalist who I got to know in Fallujah in 2004--from the LA Times, who has covered this story, describes what transpired that morning best. Corporal Jonathan Yale, 21, grew up in poor rural Virginia. He had joined the Marine Corps to put structure in his life and to help support his mother and sister. He was within a few days of heading home.
Lance Corporal Jordan Haerter, 19, was from a comfortable middle class suburb on Long Island. As a boy, he had worn military garb and he had felt the pull of adventure and patriotism. He had just arrived in Iraq.
On April 22, 2008, the two were assigned to guard the main gate to Joint Security Station Nasser in Ramadi, the capital of the Anbar province, once an insurgent stronghold, and still a very dangerous place. Dozens of marines and Iraqi police lived at the compound and some were still sleeping after all-night patrols when Yale and Haerter reported for duty that warm, sultry morning. Yale, respected for his quiet, efficient manner, was assigned to show Haerter how to take over his duties. Haerter had volunteered to watch the main gate, even though it was considered the most hazardous of the compound's three guards station because it could be approached from a busy thoroughfare.
The sun had barely risen when the two sentries spotted a 20-foot long truck headed toward the gate, weaving with increasing speed through the concrete barriers to the gate. Two Iraqi police officers ran for their lives, so did several Iraqi police on the adjacent street. Yale and Haerter tried to waive off this truck, but it just kept coming. They opened fire, Yale with the machine gun, Haerter with an M-16. Their bullets peppered the radiator and windshield. The truck slowed, but kept rolling. A few dozen feet from the gate the big truck exploded. Investigators found that it was loaded with over 2,000 pounds of explosives and that its driver, his hand on a ``dead-man switch,'' was determined to commit suicide and slaughter the marines and Iraqi police.
The thunderous explosion rocked much of Ramadi, interrupting the morning call to prayers for many mosques. A nearby mosque and a home were flattened. The blast ripped a crater five feet deep and 20 feet across into the street. Shards of concrete shattered everywhere, and choking dust filled the air.
Haerter was dead, Yale was dying. Three marines about 300 feet away were injured, so were eight Iraqi police and two dozen civilians, but several dozen other nearby marines and Iraqi police, while shaken, were unhurt.
Mr. Speaker, we all hope that in times of great crisis, we will rise to the occasion and do the right thing. Haerter and Yale rose to the occasion and defended their fellow Marines. It is an honor to call them fellow Marines.
Major General John Kelly, Commanding General, First Marine Expeditionary Force (Forward) interviewed the witnesses himself. What he learned from these interviews led him to nominate the two for the Navy Cross, the second highest award for combat bravery for the Marine Corps and the United States Navy. In General Kelly's statement in support of the Navy Cross, he writes: ``Because they did what they did, only 2 families had their hearts broken on 22 April, rather than as many as 50. These families will never know how truly close they came to a knock on their door that night.''
We are winning in Iraq and Afghanistan because of brave Marines like Corporal Jonathan T. Yale and Lance Corporal Jordan D. Haerter. To their families I offer my heartfelt condolences. And to Corporal Yale and Corporal Haerter, I say, Marines, job well done.
This is but one example of the bravery and sacrifice of over 4,000 men and women who have given their lives to the cause of liberty since 2001 and the over 1.5 million men and women who have served in Operation Enduring Freedom and Operation Iraqi Freedom and come home, and, of course, the over 150,000 that are serving now.
Mr. Speaker, I would like to include for the Record Tony Perry's entire article and Major General Kelly's statement in support of the award of the Navy Cross. I encourage all of my colleague and hope all Americans will read about these two brave Marines and keep their families in their prayers.
[From Los Angeles Times Dec. 29, 2008]
A Speeding Truck Bomb, and A Shared Act Of Courage
(By Tony Perry)
San Diego.--Two Marines in Iraq saved dozens--but not
themselves. They'll be awarded the Navy Cross. They had known
each other only a few minutes, but they will be linked
forever in what Marine brass say is one of the most
extraordinary acts of courage and sacrifice in the Iraq war.
Cpl. Jonathan Yale, 21, grew up poor in rural Virginia. He
had joined the Marine Corps to put structure in his life and
to help support his mother and sister. He was within a few
days of heading home.
Lance Cpl. Jordan Haerter, 19, was from a comfortably
middle-class suburb on Long Island. As a boy, he had worn
military garb, and he had felt the pull of adventure and
patriotism. He had just arrived in Iraq.
On April 22, the two were assigned to guard the main gate
to Joint Security Station Nasser in Ramadi, the capital of
Anbar province, once an insurgent stronghold and still a
dangerous region. Dozens of Marines and Iraqi police lived at
the compound, and some were still sleeping after all-night
patrols when Yale and Haerter reported for duty that warm,
sultry morning.
Yale, respected for his quiet, efficient manner, was
assigned to show Haerter how to take over his duties.
Haerter had volunteered to watch the main gate, even though
it was considered the most hazardous of the compound's three
guard stations because it could be approached from a busy
thoroughfare.
The sun had barely risen when the two sentries spotted a
20-foot-long truck headed toward the gate, weaving with
increasing speed through the concrete barriers. Two Iraqi
police officers assigned to the gate ran for their lives.
So did several Iraqi police on the adjacent street.
Yale and Haerter tried to wave off the truck, but it kept
coming. They opened fire, Yale with a machine gun, Haerter
with an M-16. Their bullets peppered the radiator and
windshield. The truck slowed but kept rolling.
A few dozen feet from the gate, the truck exploded.
Investigators found that it was loaded with 2,000 pounds of
explosives and that its driver, his hand on a ``dead-man
switch,'' was determined to commit suicide and slaughter
Marines and Iraqi police.
The thunderous explosion rocked much of Ramadi,
interrupting the morning call to prayers from the many
mosques. A nearby mosque and a home were flattened. The blast
ripped a crater 5 feet deep and 20 feet across into the
street. Shards of concrete scattered everywhere, and choking
dust filled the air.
Haerter was dead; Yale was dying. Three Marines about 300
feet away were injured. So were eight Iraqi police and two
dozen civilians. But several dozen other nearby Marines and
Iraqi police, while shaken, were unhurt. A Black Hawk
helicopter was summoned in a futile attempt to get Yale to a
field hospital in time. A sheet was placed over Haerter.
When it was considered safe to take Haerter's body to a
second helicopter, his section leader insisted he be covered
by an American flag. ``We did not want him carried out with
just a sheet,'' said Staff Sgt. Kenneth Grooms.
Maj. Gen. John Kelly, the top Marine in Iraq, wanted to
know how the attack happened. Like many veteran Marines, he
is haunted by the memory of the 1983 bombing of the barracks
in Beirut, when a blast from an explosives-laden truck killed
241 U.S. service personnel, including 220 Marines.
Not given to dark thoughts or insecurities, Kelly, who
commanded Marines in the fight for Baghdad and Tikrit in 2003
and Fallouja in 2004, admits that the specter of another
Beirut gives him nightmares as he commands the 22,000 Marines
in Iraq. He went to Ramadi to interview Iraqi witnesses--a
task generals usually delegate to subordinates. Some Iraqis
told him they were incredulous that the two Marines had not
fled. When Marine technicians restored a damaged security
camera, the images were undeniable.
While Iraqi police fled, Haerter and Yale had never
flinched and never stopped firing as the Mercedes truck--the
same model used in the Beirut bombing--sped directly toward
them.
Without their steadfastness, the truck would probably have
penetrated the compound before it exploded, and 50 or more
Marines and Iraqis would have been killed. The incident
happened in just six seconds.
``No time to talk it over; no time to call the lieutenant;
no time to think about their own lives or even the American
and Iraqi lives they were protecting,'' Kelly said. ``More
than enough time, however, to do their duty. They never
hesitated or tried to escape.''
Yale was always trying to boost the morale of his buddies,
said Lance Cpl. Brandon Creely, 21, of Boise, Idaho.
``Whenever I was down, he'd tell a joke, tell me it's not as
bad as it seems.''
Staff Sgt. Grooms, 28, said he knows how Haerter should be
remembered. ``He was a hero,'' Grooms said, ``and a damn fine
person.''