Mr. Speaker, this past Monday the First Congressional District of Alabama and indeed, our entire State and Nation, said goodbye to another casualty of the war in Iraq. Army Specialist Paul Joseph Bueche, a native of Baton Rouge, Louisiana,…
Mr. Speaker, this past Monday the First Congressional District of Alabama and indeed, our entire State and Nation, said goodbye to another casualty of the war in Iraq.
Army Specialist Paul Joseph Bueche, a native of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and longtime resident of Daphne, Alabama, joined the Army National Guard in 2001 and was assigned to Company E of the 131st Aviation Regiment based in Birmingham.
Earlier this year, Paul's unit was activated and deployed to the Kingdom of Kuwait during Operation Iraqi Freedom. In August of this year, his unit was transferred to its new duty station in Balad, Iraq. It was in Balad that, on October 21, 2003, a tire he was changing on an Army MH-60 Blackhawk helicopter exploded, killing Paul and seriously wounding one of his fellow soldiers.
During his 2-year career in the National Guard, Paul set a standard of excellence and displayed the qualities of discipline, devotion and dedication to country that are the hallmarks of men and women throughout the long and distinguished history of the American military. As a result of his hard work in the Middle Eastern Theater, Paul was recently advanced to the rank of Specialist, and he was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star medal and accompanying citation.
Mr. Speaker, as you can imagine, south Alabama is truly mourning the loss of this fine young man. In conversations with his friends and family, the one characteristic that was mentioned time and again when describing Paul was his love for life. As the Rev. Timothy Deasy noted during Paul's funeral mass, ``he lived more in 19 years than many of us live in a lifetime. Paul gave his life for all of us.''
A devoted brother, son, and grandson, Paul Bueche never waned in his appreciation for the many wonderful gifts of love and friendship that came his way during his brief 19 years. To a person, his fellow students and teachers from McGill-Toolen High School, his minister and fellow parishioners at Christ the King Catholic Church, and his many other family and friends spoke affectionately of Paul's boundless energy and enthusiasm and the genuinely warm feelings he displayed for his fellow man.
A telling story of his generosity came just days before he died. Recently, Paul had won a lottery held within his unit in Iraq which would have allowed him a 2-week furlough back in the United States in December. However, Paul chose to give that pass to a fellow guardsman from the unit, feeling it was more important that he--a husband and father--be at home with a wife and children who needed him more during the holidays.
Mr. Speaker, it is only right for us to pause and give thanks to God that there are still young men like Paul Joseph Bueche. On his handsome, young face, the world can see the very best America has to offer.
I urge my colleagues to take a moment and pay tribute to Specialist Paul Bueche and his selfless devotion to not only our country and the freedom we enjoy, but to a people who are but now in the infant stages of a new life--a new freedom--in their own land.
We should also remember his parents, Emory Paul and Maria Bueche, his sisters Jessica and Melissa, and his grandparents, Sydney and Doris Bueche and Jose and Ilena Alonso. Our prayer is that God will give them all the strength and courage that only He can provide to sustain them during the difficult days ahead.
It was Joseph Campbell who said, ``A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself.'' Make no mistake, young Paul Bueche was not only a dedicated soldier who made the ultimate sacrifice serving in the uniform of his country, but he was also a true American hero.
In addition to my statement, I ask that an accompanying article from the October 25th Mobile Register, written by Robert Buchanan, be included in this tribute to Paul. May he rest in peace.
A Time Too Soon To Comprehend
There is a time for everything,
And a season for every activity under heaven:
A time to be born and a time to die,
A time to plant and a time to uproot,
A time to kill and a time to heal,
A time to tear down and a time to build,
A time to weep and a time to laugh,
A time to mourn and a time to dance,
A time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
A time to embrace and a time to refrain,
A time to search and a time to give up,
A time to keep and a time to throw away,
A time to tear and a time to mend,
A time to be silent and a time to speak,
A time to love and a time to hate,
A time for war and a time for peace.
--Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
When you cradle your infant in your arms, rocking back and forth while reading to his young ears, more than likely it will be from a book of fairy tales with glorious, happy endings. Surely, though, it's not the time to tell him that the 16 lines from Ecclesiastes sum up the life that he will face. Of course, he couldn't comprehend it, nor would you want him to; life as a baby has its own time for being, for growing and for learning.
A time to be born and a time to die.
It's left to the parents to do the worrying, often quietly, without evidence that there is harm in that infant's way. As he grows to be a toddler, it's the parents who fret about the stumbling boy crashing into furniture, hitting walls, slapping the sofa. The rite of passage into official boyhood comes with its share of nicks and scratches. But a boy he is, and a boy he will be.
The years evaporate, and your baby boy is a man. Your concerns, however, have grown with him. You watched him waddle in a sand box, not thinking that one day his life could end in the sands of an Iraqi village so small that it would be difficult to spot on a map.
It's too soon for a 19-year-old to die.
We humans comprehend this, lacking the understanding of why someone so young should leave this Earth now. It's even more heartbreaking for parents to have a son die before them.
It's not supposed to be this way.
A time to weep and a time to laugh.
The order of life has turned upside down for Emory and Maria Bueche. They have already told stories--terrific stories--about their son, Paul. They have shared them with family, friends and the media. It's a normal therapeutic exercise to keep their minds clear while preparing for funeral services.
Others will share their stories, bringing more laughter and tears. They'll be proud of the people Paul touched in his short life. They'll be proud he died serving his country. The Bueches won't be able to feel it, yet all the parents of our American babies will share in their pain.
Meanwhile, three more American soldiers die in Iraq. Three more sets of parents are experiencing the trauma of children passing too soon. All of us will be suffering along with them.
There is a time for everything.
Paul was a member of the 2002 graduating class of McGill-Toolen Catholic High School. Local television stations grabbed yearbooks from his days at McGill, showing Paul's smiling portrait in a row of students' photos.
A telephone call went to the cherubic looking youngster in the picture to the left of Paul. He's now a young college man, sans the rounded face.
``Paul Bueche died in Iraq,'' he's told.
``What?'' he answers. ``I didn't know he was over there. Oh, my God. What happened?''
He is told about the unfortunate circumstances, but the explanation falls flat. A classmate had died; the first member of the 2002 class was gone. It's too incredible for the student to absorb.
``Man, he was cool. We were in the Model U.N. together. I mean . . . I can't believe it. What happened?
``Of all the people over there, that accident, it happened to one of us.''
The McGill-Toolen senior class of 2002 was close, unusually close. The Bueches recalled how their house was always full of kids, that it wasn't unusual to wake up and find Paul's friends asleep on the den floor.
That was the class of 2002.
From house to house, class members found parents with open doors. Now these same parents are sharing the Bueches' ache, along with their young-adult children who are experiencing a type of grief they were not prepared to handle. It's just too soon.
Eventually, though, they will realize that Paul's death was not in vain, for there are few earthly callings higher than sacrificing for one's country, for one's friends back home.
In the meantime, they can pray and take solace that there will be a time for peace.