Madam President, I ask unanimous consent that the order for the quorum call be rescinded. Madam President, I would like to take this opportunity to commemorate two Medal of Honor recipients who passed away last month. Every Medal of Honor…
Madam President, I ask unanimous consent that the order for the quorum call be rescinded.
Madam President, I would like to take this opportunity to commemorate two Medal of Honor recipients who passed away last month. Every Medal of Honor recipient has served his country with extraordinary valor and with little or no regard for his own life and safety.
Air Force Col. Joe Jackson and Army LTC Charles Kettles were no exceptions. They were both pilots and both served honorably in the Vietnam war. Both were responsible for extraordinary rescue missions of American soldiers trapped deep behind enemy lines against incredible odds. These two men were patriots who by chance, skill, and strength of character became true American heroes. They are gone now, but their legacies and examples will always live on. It is up to us to learn from them.
Col. Joe Jackson passed away on January 12 at the age of 95.
Jackson enlisted in the Army Air Corps in 1941, serving as a gunnery instructor for the duration of World War
II. But he may never have been a pilot--may never have been a hero--if not for a chance event in that war.
One of his friends, a flight engineer, fell ill right before a B-25 bomber flight. Jackson agreed to take his place. During the flight, one of the engines caught fire. The pilot didn't know what to do, but Jackson did. His timely instructions helped extinguish the fire, possibly saving the aircraft. Emboldened by this incident, Jackson decided to become a pilot--and he did, flying 107 missions as an F-84 Thunderjet pilot during the Korean war and becoming one of the very first pilots of the U-2 spy plane.
That in itself would be a pretty distinguished career of honorable service, but Joe Jackson returned for more, decades later. At the age of 45 he answered the call of service once again, volunteering with the Air Force's 311th Air Commando Squadron to fly cargo planes in Vietnam. It is not often a cargo pilot gets a chance to distinguish himself in combat, but it was in that very role that Joe Jackson earned the Nation's highest honor.
May 12, 1968, was supposed to be a routine cargo mission for Joe Jackson and the crew of his C-123. That all changed when the American special forces camp at Kham Duc was attacked by the North Vietnamese. As the Viet Cong overran the camp and established firing positions just off the landing strip, an emergency evacuation began of the much smaller American contingent.
The evacuation quickly turned into a turkey shoot. Eight aircraft and helicopters were shot down or destroyed on the runway during the desperate evacuation of Kham Duc. In a horrible tragedy, one cargo plane was shot down by North Vietnamese forces shortly after takeoff. All aboard the aircraft perished--the American air crew, plus some 150 South Vietnamese civilians. Eventually, the airlift succeeded in evacuating nearly all of the camp's survivors. But as the last scheduled plane left the runway and the order was given to bomb the remainder of the camp, a horrible discovery was made: Three American soldiers had accidentally been left on the ground. Joe Jackson's plane was the closest to the area, so he made a split-second decision. ``We're going in,'' he said.
The C-123 cargo plane was not known for its agility, but Joe Jackson tested its limits as an aircraft. He banked the plane into a breathtaking turn and descent, dropping 9,000 feet to the runway in a matter of seconds. The plane instantly drew fire from the enemy, including an anti-armor rocket that crashed just shy of the aircraft but, providentially, did not detonate. The three beleaguered soldiers boarded Joe Jackson's aircraft, and he gunned it, lifting them to safety.
That terrible assault on Kham Duc exacted a high toll in American lives. But thanks to Joe Jackson's quick wits and skillful flying, that toll was much lower.
Joe Jackson remained in the Air Force until 1974, when he retired as a full colonel. He taught at the Air Force Air War College so that future pilots could learn from his example. Then he worked for Boeing, helping that great company build airplanes for use in peacetime, not just wartime. He ultimately settled in Kent, WA, with Rosamund, his wife, to whom he was married for 74 years and with whom he had two children.
Joe Jackson was awarded the Medal of Honor by President Lyndon Johnson in January of 1969. He later described the heavy burden that recipients of that honor must shoulder. He said:
I have to represent the thousands of Americans who have
served the country. You have to make them proud of what you
have done and what they have done.
As a former soldier and as an American, let me state that there can be no finer representative of courage under fire than Joe Jackson. May he rest in peace.
LTC Charles Kettles passed away on January 21 at the age of 89.
Kettles was a helicopter pilot with the Army's 176th Assault Helicopter Company, 14th Combat Aviation Battalion, Task Force Oregon.
Flying was in Kettles' blood. He was born in Ypsilanti, MI, to a father who had flown for the Canadian Royal Air Force in World War I and later for the U.S. Army Air Corps in World War II.
Kettles was drafted in 1951, which began a whirlwind of Active Duty tours in Korea, Japan, and Thailand. He returned to the armed services in 1963, volunteering as a pilot. That is one thing to note about Charles Kettles. He was always willing to volunteer for dangerous assignments. Vietnam would give him many opportunities to volunteer.
On May 15, 1967, then-Major Kettles volunteered to lead a flight of six Hueys to reinforce the brigade of the 101st Airborne Division that had been ambushed by a battalion of North Vietnamese.
The situation was pretty hairy. It pitted Americans against hundreds of the VC, and the Americans were taking heavy fire. Worse still, they were trapped in little cover in what was called ``Chump Valley,'' so nicknamed because only a chump would go there.
Major Kettles and his team landed under heavy fire from the enemy. One of the aviators later recalled that the tracers were ``like rain . . . coming straight out of the wood line.'' So intense was the enemy fire that several Americans were killed as they approached the evacuation zone. Nevertheless, Major Kettles stayed until reinforcements were offloaded and wounded soldiers were brought on board.
After that insertion, Major Kettles returned to the battlefield a second time when his helicopter was raked front to back by machine-gun fire. Mechanics later counted 40 holes in his Huey. Major Kettles' gunner was seriously wounded in this trip, but Kettles piloted his aircraft, limping back to base streaming fuel.
Those two flights would be a full day's work and then some for any aviator, but Major Kettles wasn't done yet.
Later that day, with the situation in the valley growing yet more desperate, Kettles volunteered for a third time to evacuate the remaining 44 soldiers. So dangerous was the situation that Kettles was ordered to stand down. However, he disobeyed that order.
Kettles led six helicopters on a third landing as fiercely contested by the enemy as the previous two. Soon the last helicopter reported all personnel were evacuated off the ground, and the helicopters evacuated the area. The all clear had been given too soon; a small group of American soldiers who were bravely fighting a rearguard action had been left behind.
One of those soldiers later recalled the feeling when he saw the helicopters disappear over the jungle canopy: ``If it's possible for your heart to fall into your boots, that's what mine did.''
There were now eight Americans stranded in Chump Valley against hundreds of Viet Cong. Those are long odds even for the Screaming Eagles of the 101st.
So for the fourth time that day--the fourth time--in a split-second decision, Kettles turned around his aircraft to land in a hot LZ. This time he returned alone with no gunship support.
When he landed, a mortar exploded near the front of his aircraft, blowing out his Huey's chin bubble, windshields, tail boom, and rotor. His helicopter returned with 40 holes and was 600 pounds overweight because all eight American soldiers were onboard. They all attribute their survival to his brave actions.
Kettles was later awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for his extraordinary courage and self-sacrifice, but he wasn't immediately awarded the Medal of Honor. There is one thing Charles Kettles wouldn't volunteer for--the spotlight. He accepted the Distinguished Service Cross and moved on with his life, retiring from the military in 1978 after another tour in Vietnam.
Kettles moved back to Michigan, where he taught aviation management at Eastern Michigan University and worked for Chrysler Pentastar Aviation. He married twice and had nine children, who survive him, along with his wife Ann.
That is how the Kettles' story may have ended if not for a local historian who persuaded Congress and the Army to reopen the file. When they did, it became apparent to all that he deserved the Nation's highest honor. Charles Kettles was awarded the Medal of Honor in 2016 at the young age of 86. Kettles did what he could to downplay his role in saving his comrades in arms. According to him, ``The bottom line of the whole thing is simply that those 44 [soldiers] did get out of there and are
not a statistic on that wall in DC. The rest of it is rather immaterial, frankly.''
Pardon me here if I disagree for once with Lieutenant Colonel Kettles. It was due to his bravery that those 44 soldiers returned alive and back to their families. On the battlefield, valor is hardly immaterial; it is essential. Charles Kettles proved that on his four volunteer rescue flights that fateful day.
May he rest in peace. May both of these great warriors rest in peace.
Madam President, I yield the floor.