Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the order for the quorum call be rescinded. Mr. President, I rise today to talk about joy and also apprehension. In Palestine, WV, they are celebrating the rescue yesterday of PFC Jessica Lynch…
Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the order for the quorum call be rescinded.
Mr. President, I rise today to talk about joy and also apprehension. In Palestine, WV, they are celebrating the rescue yesterday of PFC Jessica Lynch from an Iraqi hospital. I am sure most people who watch C-SPAN have also seen the incredible pictures of that operation, seeing our Navy SEALs, our Army special forces, our Marines teaming up to go in and take a hospital because they had information that some of our prisoners of war might be there. It was a great act of courage on their part.
We are all celebrating the return of Jessica Lynch. In her Army hometown of El Paso, TX, they are celebrating. Her rescue has given hope and comfort to the families of the other missing or captured members of Fort Bliss's 507th Maintenance Company that they, too, might be returned to their homes and families.
Retired MSgt Claude Johnson, father of prisoner of war SP Shoshana Johnson, was thrilled to learn PFC Jessica Lynch had been found. I quote:
I am very, very, very glad that Jessica has been returned
and that she is safe. As I have said previously, it is not
just about Shoshana. It's about all the prisoners who are
over there, and I hope and pray that each and every one of
them can come home safe, just like Jessica did. The rescue of
Lynch gives everybody hope that the rest of [those missing or
captured] will be returned.
I talked to Mr. Johnson early on after Shoshana was taken captive and was shown on Iraqi television. She is a former Army personnel person. I was able to share with him the great attention that all of us are giving to all of those prisoners of war and missing in action. I told him that everything would be done to find them and to rescue them if possible. We hope this is the first of good news. But we also know that our forces are doing everything possible to determine if there are others there and also to try to get them home if they are.
We commend the brave marines and special ops forces and the SEALs who were involved in this dramatic rescue. As details come out, I know we will be even more proud of what they have achieved. Now we hope that in the days ahead there will be other good news for those families of soldiers from Fort Bliss and Fort Hood; that they, too, will be reunited with their families.
All of America is riveted on that wonderful story, but we also know there is more news to come, and we will wait anxiously to hear about others.
I also want to take time to discuss personal stories we get from the field because the press over there is seeing the individual sacrifices our young men and women in the military are making that show so much about our values. I want to share one of those vignettes. Then I want to ask my friend and colleague from Idaho to also do the same because he, too, has troops from Idaho in the field.
This morning I start by talking about CPT Chris Carter. This comes from Chris Tomlinson, the Associated Press, from Hindiyah, Iraq. I want to show this picture because it illustrates exactly what these forces are doing. This is a story that goes with this picture. You see in this picture a woman in a black veil sitting on a bridge. Here are the American troops who are trying to take this bridge.
``We've got to get her off that bridge,'' he said.
Capt. Chris Carter winced at the risks his men would have
to take. Engaged in a raid on this Euphrates River town, they
were battling for a bridge when, through the smoke, they saw
the elderly woman. She had tried to race across the bridge
when the U.S. soldiers arrived, but was caught in crossfire.
At first they thought she was dead, like the man sprawled
in the dust nearby. But during breaks in the gunfire that
whizzed over her head, she sat up and waved for help.
Carter, a 32-year old Army Ranger, ordered his Bradley
Fighting Vehicle to move forward while he and two other men
ran behind it. They took cover behind the bridges' iron
beams. Carter tossed a smoke grenade for more cover and
approached the woman, who was crying and pointing at a wound
on her hip.
She wore a black abayah, a robe common among older women in
the countryside. Blood soaked through the fabric onto the
pavement around her.
Medics put the woman on a stretcher and into an ambulance;
Carter stood by, providing cover with his M-16 automatic
rifle. Then she was gone, and the battle raged on for the
town of 80,000 about 50 mile south of Baghdad.
By the end of the day, the Army unit would fight street to
street, capture or kill scores of Iraqui soldiers, blow up a
Baath Party headquarters and destroy heaps of ammunition and
mortars. No US. soldiers were killed, but from the beginning
officers in the 4th Battalion, 64th Armor Regiment described
the mission as ``hairy.''
``Yeah, hold a strategic bridge with one infantry company
that has only two platoons--a hell of a mission,'' Lt. Col.
Philip DeCamp, the battalion commander, said with a smile.
I yield to my colleague from Utah.
Mr. President, I thank the Senator from Idaho for sharing that story with us. It reminds us of what is being done that we might not see over here, but it is those one-on-one things that that Iraqi father is going to remember.
I want to do another story from the field. This one is written by Julian Barnes of U.S. News and World Report. He is with the 101st Airmobile Division Apache Pilots. Here we have the picture of an Apache helicopter firing an antimissile flare. This was taken April 7. The story:
Chief Warrant Officer Ted Hazen has been flying attack
helicopters for years. Last week, he finally flew one into
combat. ``It was everything I expected,'' he says, ``and not
anything like I expected.'' It was the first deep-strike
attack by the 101st Airborne Division, and Hazen was at the
controls of the command chopper, helping direct the fleet of
Apache Longbows into battle some 50 miles south of Baghdad.
In front of him, the other pilots locked on the Republican
Guard tanks and armored vehicles and let loose their hellfire
missiles. ``I saw that first shot go out and bang, hit,'' he
says. ``Then there was a hellacious secondary explosion.
Flames went 100 feet into the air.''
After engaging the first tank, the Apaches' fuel began
running low. A squadron of British Harrier jets continued the
attack as the Apaches turned south, back to base. But heading
home is almost as tough as attacking. Powerful tailwinds can
cause blinding brownouts. The first two of the 101st's
Apaches crashed while trying to land. Hazen is philosophical.
After all, it's tricky business trying to land a big chopper
totally blind. How tricky? ``The best thing to say,'' Hazen
mused, ``is open your garage door,
turn your lights off, line yourself up, go 20 miles per hour
and hit your brakes and see if you stop in time.''
That sort of thing brings it home.
I wish to read an article about the 173rd Airborne Brigade. This is a picture of the paratroopers who took the airfield in northern Iraq. A U.S. soldier stands guard next to his colleagues digging in near the Harir airstrip. They are excavating earth into trucks northeast of Arbil in northern Iraq. Harir airfield is in Kurdish-controlled northern Iraq where U.S. soldiers from the 173rd Airborne unit parachuted into position.
The article is by Bay Fang, U.S. News & World Report. He is with the 173rd Airborne Brigade:
The man is covered in mud. ``I landed in a puddle,'' he
says sheepishly. ``It was a great landing, other than where I
landed.'' He and the other members of the 173rd Airborne
Brigade dropped into northern Iraq the night before, but they
still have not had a chance to clean up. They are fanned out
across the airstrip here, dun-colored figures dotting the
lush green fields, diggings foxholes, setting up their guns.
Another paratrooper checks a jeep-mounted machine gun and
gestures at the fields and mountains shrouded in mist. ``I
have total sympathy for the men in Vietnam, walking through
the rice paddies,'' he says. ``I don't see how they did it.
This isn't half as bad. And it's tough, this terrain out
here.''
Up the road, a special forces officer haggles over a
truckload of wood his men need for heat. They chose to send
the troops in by parachute rather than plane, he says, for
reasons of both efficiency and psychological impact. ``It
sends a dramatic message to the whole region that U.S. forces
are here,'' he says. ``I think we can say that the northern
front is already underway.''
The north has indeed begun to move. Late that afternoon, I
hear that Iraqi forces have pulled back from the ridge
overlooking Chamchamal, the frontline town where I have been
staying, to positions just outside Kirkuk. Kurdish fighters,
known as peshmerga--
Described as ``those who face death''--
and curious townspeople have rushed up the mountainside. Some
are here to inspect the area inhabited by their enemy for the
past 12 years. Some have come to loot. But most are simply
tourists, hoping to visit places once forbidden to them.
Arivan Ahmed stands on the remains of a hilltop bunker. He
used to pass through this place every day on his smuggling
run from Kirkuk to Chamchamal and bribe the soldiers at what
was called the Challenger checkpoint. ``They sometimes took
my shoes from me, so I would have to go back barefoot to
Chamchamal,'' he says. That was before the American bombing
started and all traffic stopped. ``I used to be very afraid
every time I came through here. Now I am just happy to stand
here on this ground.'' He holds a rusty hammerhead in his
fist that he scrounged from the rubble, and says that is
enough of a memento for him.
The road is now open 12 miles deep into what was Iraqi
territory. All along it, I see scenes of defiance and
celebration. A man drives a bulldozer into a cement plaque in
the middle of the road. It bears pictures of Saddam Hussein--
wearing a western-style suit on one side, and Kurdish dress
on the other. It takes him 15 minutes to topple the plaque,
and he wipes the sweat off his forehead with a laugh. ``It is
very strong--he spent all of Iraq's money on plaques like
these!'' he says. I just wish I could go to Baghdad and do
the same to the man himself.''
The peshmerga express the same impatience with beginning
the drive down south. But their commanders, sensitive
about being seen to cooperate with America, make sure we
understand that their forces will not move in
unilaterally. It is not the peshmerga taking the newly
vacated regions, they say, it is the people themselves.
``These areas we are moving into, they belong to us,''
says Gen. Rostam Hamid Rahim, the top peshmerga commander
from Kirkuk. ``The citizens have moved back to the
liberated area, and we are just protecting them.''
At the end of the newly opened road, Kirkuk shimmers like a
mirage on the horizon, still about 12 miles away. ``It is the
Jerusalem of Kurdistan, and we would like to be free,'' says
the mayor of Chamchamal, walking briskly toward it as the sun
sets. He and everyone else here want to return soon, fighting
their way through if necessary. But they have a new phrase
for their suppressed hopes: Instead of inshallah, meaning
``God willing,'' it is Insha-Bush.''
This is the picture taken that first day after the paratroopers landed in the north of Iraq.
I will show a few more pictures because I do believe that pictures say a thousand words. A lot of people have seen the pictures from the field of our troops in combat doing everyday activities. I want to show some pictures about what life is like over there for our soldiers.
Here our soldiers are sleeping next to their tanks on a highway that they have taken. They just laid down on the cement, covered their heads, and are taking what I am sure is a long hoped for respite right in the middle of the day because they have been moving at night. They are taking the rest when they can get it. We see a couple of soldiers just cannot sleep. They are awake and talking. But some of them are sleeping with their rifles on and their boots on the ground.
This is another picture showing soldiers sleeping. This was during that sandstorm that many of us saw. These soldiers are wrapped up, trying to protect their faces, their noses from inhaling that dust and sand. We see one soldier sleeping sitting up with a rifle on his lap, and we see another soldier laying down also with a face mask on trying to protect from that dust. Clearly, they are so tired that they will sleep anywhere.
These are troops digging trenches, trying to set up for potential warfare. They, too, are trying to rest before the battle that might ensue. We see them sleeping in their trenches, standing in their trenches that they just worked so hard to dig. We see the trucks that are lined up to protect them in case there is an enemy out there.
That is a fitting end to showing what our troops are enduring every day as they are on the front lines fighting for every one of us, fighting for our way of life, fighting for our right to speak on the Senate floor, the right to be in the Galleries listening, the right to watch C-SPAN2 cover the Senate every day. They are fighting for the right of each of us to kiss our babies in the morning as we go off to our jobs or as we give them the chance to play with some of their friends. Every one of the activities we are doing every day is being protected by those men and women in the field as we speak today.
We are starting the Senate every morning with 1 hour of tribute to our troops, talking about something that has happened that shows American values shining through to the people of the world. We are doing this to honor our troops, to let their families know we will not forget them for 1 minute, and that we appreciate what they are doing every single minute of the day.
We will do this every day our troops are in the field in Iraq, until this war is over.
I yield the floor.