Suzanne Rice

Apr 08 2019

Invading Laos – 1971, Part 2

FIRST DAY

The next morning, we deployed around the LZ. Our small, “air mobile” earth-moving equipment, ¾ ton dump trucks, jeeps, M450 bulldozers, D5 bulldozer, and scrapers were broken down for sling loading. We were also sharing the assault lift with an infantry battalion of the 5th Infantry Division (Mechanized). The pathfinders (forward troops who controlled our aircraft loading) were all set.

Then, as I guess happens in war, chaos takes over. The sky was cloudy at dawn and the largest group of slicks (Huey helicopters) I had ever seen approached the LZ. They landed but had their numbers in the windows all mixed up. My guys shouted, “what do we do?” and I answered get on one of the birds as they were supposedly all going to the same place. We jumped on with our enormous rucks and weapons and lifted off.

Khe Sanh was actually on a plateau and as we looked at the hundreds of choppers of all kinds in the air, we could see that a low cloud cover had just lifted enough to provide a “tunnel” up the main valley along QL9. Our pilot turned slightly north and landed on a hill top. I asked what was up and he told me he could not risk the congestion and would wait until things cleared a bit. He was right — the air traffic was unreal. We broke out some C-rations and ate lunch at about 0800. We finally got clearance and went to Khe Sanh. I later found out that the XO (Executive Officer) had made it through and had listed our birds as “missing in action” for a while. I thought that news had better not get to Mary Ellen before it was corrected.

We landed on the old matted air-strip and jumped out. One of my NCOs, SSG Vance, was a short stocky guy and fell over on his back. The ruck was so heavy he could not right himself and was flailing around like a turtle. One of his guys was yelling “they got Sarge.” I recognized no rounds were heard and shouted, “He’s OK, help him up!”

We secured our area and met with the XO. The old Marine matted airfield was full of holes and had a destroyed sub-grade material base under matting which was the result of NVA bombardment in 1968. Using it for C130 landings would require taking it up and completely rebuilding it. It would become our air cavalry squadron’s helicopter landing area. The decision was made to build a new strip parallel and just south. We started to try to clear through the elephant grass and along the road using detectors looking for the “booby traps” – none were found. We did see some infantry guys loose legs to the Marine mines – nobody apparently had a map or location (which was doctrine in the Army) and the mines seemed to be all around.

The opening of QL9 was taking more time than planned. So, I was told we would work back toward our other platoons. We gathered our jeep and some ¾ ton dump trucks and assembled a D5 bulldozer. We started down the road from Khe Sanh to QL9. We decided to drop the rucksacks and take ammo, detectors, and weapons only. The sweep along the dirt road was too slow. The shrapnel in the ground from all the previous fighting gave readings every few feet – but contrary to our intelligence briefing we found no booby traps, nor did we encounter any NVA. I decided we had to do a “visual” sweep and get moving. The road was slightly overgrown but could be seen. I mounted the front of the jeep, my legs dangling over the grill, and told my driver, SP4 Martin (a great 19-year-old kid) to move out and stop immediately if I yelled. If I missed something, he would never know it, anyway. We made progress.

Just about dark we hit the intersection of the main road and LTC Rodolph landed in his LOH (Light Observation Helicopter). He told me the other platoons had put in the bridges and had approached the last site (bridge #36) before Khe Sanh some kilometers from my location. I needed to get there that night – in other words perform a night mine sweep and road repair in the dark through what may be an enemy infiltrated area. We would be on our own as there was no infantry support available. He said he would like to be with us on our endeavor but that division “needed him in Quang Tri” that night. He took off as the sun set. My platoon sergeant rendered his LOH a single finger salute as he flew away.

The road was an old French hard surface, probably a mixed bituminous treatment and overgrown, but findable. We set the D5 bulldozer to the front behind a couple of point troops to mark the way. The D5 had a light and we had the jeep and two ¾ ton dump trucks. The mufflers were off the trucks, so they sounded quite noisy. We certainly would sound intimidating as we moved along. At this point we really did not believe the bobby trap threat although our other platoon working farther east had taken a casualty from mines on the road.

We started off to make our link up. It was a sight — all our guys (about 35) chugging along behind the bulldozer and trucks making as much noise as possible. We probably sounded like an armor outfit. We hit some snags when we came to a spot that had been pulverized, probably in 1968, by B52 500lb bombs. The craters were quite large, and we had to snake a route around them.

(I witnessed only one such B52 raid in country. They were called “Arc Lights” and we had to be at least 4 kilometers from the target. You never heard the planes which flew from as far away as Guam, or the falling bombs. The ridge would simply erupt with explosions and you could see the condensing of the air from the shock waves around the explosion. It was said that if the NVA survived many were found dazed and bleeding from the ears.)

We then came to a spot where a number of folks were running around in the dark shouting in Vietnamese. We kept moving forward, they ran, and not a shot was fired! We speculated they were probably NVA support troops as there were not supposed to be any ARVN in the area yet.

Finally, we were moving downhill to the last bridge site. On the hill above, fires were burning from earlier air attacks and we heard what sounded like weapon discharge. We kept moving. I was in contact with John and Steve by radio and they were dug in along the road on the other side of the river. At this point Steve had only a few guys as many had dropped off at the other bridge sites. The old French bridge abutments were way too far apart for our helicopter- delivered bridge frame. We needed to blow some rock with demo charges to create abutments and use the bulldozer to cut a bypass to drop the bridge frame on. Steve and John had the panels to fill it out. We decided that placing charges in the dark and trying to survey the needed work was not a smart thing. My guys were exhausted, and we were concerned that whomever we had “met” along the way or was on the hill above might give us a problem. We made a one rope river crossing ala Ranger School and took refuge behind their positions and got a couple hours rest. We reported our link-up to battalion headquarters.

SECOND DAY

Just before first light, we re-crossed the river, secured our stuff, and planted the charges and cut the bypass. We blew the rock, used the bulldozer to help complete the makeshift abutments, and we called for the bridge. It had to be dropped in by a CH 54 crane.

**Crane carrying the M4T6 bridge frame**

I sent the bulldozer and the bulk of the platoon back along our route to fix the B52-cratered area so the tracks could pass. The path we used in the dark was quite serpentine.

About this time a slick (Huey helicopter) carrying a one-star general of the 5th Infantry Division (Mechanized) landed on the abutment. He was furious. His column was strung out and stopped all along QL 9 back to Quang Tri he said. When were we 101st Airborne Division idiots going to get the damn bridge completed? At this moment the crane with the bridge, accompanied by two cobra gunships, was orbiting the site awaiting clearance to bring the frame in. I kind of lost it and told him “Sir, as soon as we get that f*%$kin bird out of the way.” He glared, asked my name, and got in his chopper.

The bridge went in and Steve’s and John’s troops began filling the frame. I scrambled to catch up to my guys. We fixed the road at the cratered site as best we could and welcomed the first Mechanized Infantry vehicles as they came up the road. They had signs proclaiming to be the First to Khe Sanh – my guys took issue with the claim.

We returned to Khe Sanh and started the airbase construction phase. It was quite a couple of first days of the operation. Some of us would later get the Bronze Star with a “V” (for valor) as well as a Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry with Silver Star for the events of these days.

**Our River Crossing Site in 1968 – overgrown in 1971**.

Apr 08 2019

Invading Laos – 1971, Part 1

Prelude

In January 1971, the decision was made to further cripple the North Vietnamese Army (NVA) infiltration and supply to South Vietnam; I guess to follow up on the Cambodian success. This time Vietnamization was to be demonstrated. But instead of heading north through the DMZ (Demilitarized Zone), we would head west to Laos and “cut” the Ho Chi Minh trails using ARVN (Army of the Republic of Vietnam). This was called Operation Lam Son 719.

The first part from 29 Jan to early Feb was an American operation called Dewey Canyon II. The second part, Lam Son 719, would involve the ARVN 1st Division and the ARVN 1st Airborne Division, along with US air assets.

In the first phase, the 5th Infantry Division (Mechanized) – familiarly called 5th Mech – and 101st Airborne Division along with about all the air assets that could be mustered would open QL9, an east-west road just south of the DMZ, reoccupy Khe Sanh base (famous for the siege of Marines there in 1968), and support the ARVN incursion into Laos with air support only. The original Operation Dewey Canyon had been a Marine operation in 1969 in the same general area to cut supply lines by Army/Marine forces.

**5th Infantry Division, Mechanized Insignia**

The engineer task force was to air assault into Khe Sanh and several Landing Zones (LZ) along QL9. We were to drop in M4T6 bridge frames (that were normally supported by rubber floats) to replace blown French bridges along the route, clear mines, repair B52 bomb damage, and open the road to the border so the 5th Mech’s M113 Armored Personnel Carriers (APCs) and M551 Sheridan tank-like assault vehicles with their 152mm guns could get the road secured. The NVA had used small Soviet tanks in 1968 and reportedly had them in the area of the trails. After this, we were to open the airfield to allow Air Force C-130 re-supply through the Khe Sanh base. This was the nearest air field to Laos in Vietnam and would more easily provide material to the ARVN troops invading Laos

The Division decided to create a special company of engineers, designated TF 326 under the Battalion Executive Officer’s (XO) command, Major Gene Sneebeck. It would draw one platoon from each of the line companies and add most all the earth-moving equipment we had in Headquarters Company. LTC Rodolph chose the platoons and mine was selected. Others were LT John Sevier’s from A Co, and LT Steve Rhyne’s (a West Point classmate) B Company.

We were given full support on parts and on repairs to our vehicles, filled to our assigned personnel strength (my only time to have a full platoon), given LAW anti-tank launchers, and priority on anything else. By this time, I had several experienced NCOs as squad leaders (SSG Vance and SSG Gallion) and one very experienced platoon sergeant (SFC Tietz). I was even allowed to arbitrarily leave behind any troop I felt might have a drug problem, as we would be operating alone for several weeks and could not afford self-inflicted “casualties.” I left three behind and all were quite upset at not going with their comrades – all three entered voluntary rehab at the Division hospital.

We worked day and night to get things in order and had all in readiness in late January. I was also to have our headquarters airmobile earth-moving scrapers and bulldozers as my platoon was to get the airfield started. When I finished packing my expanded ruck sack (It was the heaviest one I ever carried) complete with LAW (light anti-tank weapon) and claymore mines, I had Sid Cochran (my fellow C company platoon leader) take my picture. Sid probably still has the picture somewhere.

The mission was classified. Our baby was due 14 Feb and I would be away for at least a few weeks with little mail or time to write I had been told. So, I had to write Mary Ellen and tell her I was OK but had something to do that was going to keep me busy and, not to worry, I would not write for a while. That was just what I wanted to tell my lady as she had our son. I figured she would see reports of the invasion and figure it out. It turned out I was able to write after about 5 days.

I convoyed “my force” to near the village of Mai Loc south of Quang Tri to stage for our assault. I remember driving up QL1 through Hue and beyond thinking how cool this was – with the theme music from the movie “Patton” ringing in my ears. (Mary Ellen and I had seen it just before I deployed.)

At the staging area I had to brief my guys on the mission and details. I had been told to expect a possible “hot LZ” (enemy fire). We would be picked up by a huge flight of slicks (unarmed Huey helicopters) in the morning with a specific number in the window of each bird. Each “stick” (load) had a number and everything was carefully designed to cross load leaders and weapons so if one went down the others could carry on. I told my guys to hit the ground running and get to clearing the booby traps and area. Don’t worry, I told them, if someone got hit – expect that. We spent a restless night and heard from the local kids outside our makeshift wire that we were going to Khe Sanh – so much for secrecy. We were the platoon to drop in at Khe Sanh. Sevier’s and Rhyne’s platoons were to assault in along QL9. We would link up later in the day as the bridges were dropped in.

The intelligence at our level was very bad. They warned of booby traps, NVA, and did not mention or give us maps of the hundreds of land mines the Marines had laid at the site in 1968. It would cost us.

Apr 06 2019

My “Combat” Jump – 1972

To this day I cannot remember why or how I got involved in skydiving. I only remember that it happened right after jump school at Fort Benning, Georgia. As a young single Second Lieutenant, I had some time on my hands during the Infantry Basic Course, so skydiving was one of the ways I filled up my Saturdays and Sundays. Since I had just completed jump school, my instructor did not take a lot of time teaching me the finer points of the sport. He briefly explained how to get out on the step of the small plane and then push off and form a spread-eagle position while I waited for the static line to open the parachute. I’m pretty sure I completed my static line jumps and my first five free falls in one weekend … and once I did, I was hooked.

sky dive West Point — **HE WAS HOOKED!**

I say he did not take a lot of time to teach me the finer points of sports jumping, but to be fair, I’m not sure that’s totally accurate. I only know that on my third free fall jump I ended up on my back as I was falling to earth, and no amount of kicking and jerking of my arms and legs was any help in getting my body to roll over into the proper face-down position. So, sensing that time was ticking away, I pulled my ripcord and soon enough I was jerked into the appropriate feet-to-earth orientation. I then looked up and discovered that my parachute was simply one big jumbled-up mess otherwise known as a malfunction. And that is when I discovered that the routine boring repetitious training that we had at jump school actually worked. I reached down and put my left hand over my reserve parachute and pulled the cord. I then took the spare chute in my hand fluffed it out until the wind caught it and it billowed up and it was time to start preparing to land. Upon landing my instructor explained that the way to right oneself was to simply arch your back and form a spread-eagle position again … and with that he sent me right back up for my final two free fall jumps.

From there I bought my own sports parachute gear and for the next four years I brought my gear with me wherever I went hoping to find a jump club where I could systematically start filling up my log book with a record of all my various and sundry jumps. While stationed with the Berlin Brigade in Berlin, Germany, I had occasion to jump in a number of different venues. Jumping in West Berlin was never going to happen for obvious reasons, but I did find a German jump club in Braunschweig, West Germany, which was about a two and a half hour drive away. It meant that I had drive through East Germany to get there, and I had to apply for a weekend pass whenever I wanted to go, but as long as I was judicious in how often I asked, my battalion commander was willing to accommodate my new-found passion.

Bapteme de l'air — **French Parachuting (Five Years Later)**

The other person I had to be careful with was my wife, Avril, of course. Looking back on it now, I realize that she was a lot more accommodating of my jumping habits than I realized at the time. Not only did she let me go away on those occasional weekends to Braunschweig, but she also allowed me to crisscross Europe on our vacations looking for jump opportunities. The result was that by the time my Berlin tour was over, I had logged-in jumps not only in Germany, but also in Spa, Belgium, and at a jump club near Salisbury, England, and even at an obscure drop-zone somewhere in Northern France. We had been to England for a couple of weeks, and as we were driving back to Berlin across France we passed by an open field that had a sign that read “Baptime de l’Aire”. Even though I had taken French at West Point I did not immediately recognize the phrase as relating to skydiving; but it did not take me too long to imagine that it might.

So, with Avril’s permission I turned the car around and went back to check it out, and sure enough it was a jump club. The French jumpers were more than happy to let me make a couple of jumps with them that day before we continued on our way.

All of the above explains how I ended up with my jump gear in Vietnam. When it was my turn to go to Vietnam in the Fall of 1971, I was due to fly out of McChord Air Force Base in Washington State. As it turned out, my roommate from our Firstie year was in medical school in Seattle. Also, there was at the time a huge skydiving center in nearby Snohomish, Washington, so I took all my jump gear with me. I stayed with John a few days and did some jumping and Space Needle sightseeing, and then headed off to Vietnam with my jump gear in tow.

Gear sack Vietnam — **Transportation for Ray’s Gear**

I was in Vietnam towards the end of American involvement there, so I ended up with several different assignments. I started out with the 101st Airborne Division up in Phu Bai, and from there I went to Long Binh before finally ending up in Cam Rahn Bay. Wherever I went I had my jump gear in tow, with the one exception being when I was at Firebase Jack – for obvious reasons. I never intended nor expected to get the opportunity to jump, of course, but having brought my gear with me to jump near Seattle, I had to take it with me the rest of the way. Oh, I just remembered, I did not take it with me on R&R in Hawaii, either. I’m pretty sure that was one occasion when Avril would not have been so understanding; and to be honest I really didn’t have jumping on my mind then, in any case.

Fast forward to my last week in Vietnam. I was sitting at a table in the Cam Rahn Bay Officer’s Club with several other guys drinking whatever; and somehow the subject turned to skydiving. As it happened, a number of the other guys either had been or still were skydivers. I’m pretty sure I’m the one who then confessed to the absurdity of the fact that I happened to have my jump gear with me in Vietnam. Imagine the shock when two other guys at the table confessed that they too had their jump gear with them! And as if that wasn’t shock enough, two of the remaining guys were Huey pilots and as a matter-of-fact asked the three of us if we would like to make a jump! What? How could that be possible? They simply said that if we wanting to make a jump, we should meet them at 0700 the next morning at a designated hanger, and they would take us up.

Parachuting Vietnam — **Parachuting From A Huey at Cam Ranh Bay**

We didn’t need to be told twice. At 0700, there we were right where they told us to be, dressed in our jump gear with our chutes on our back, ready to board their chopper. They told us that they would take us out into the boonies and up to about 12,000 feet and let us jump. They also told us that since there was no telling who or what might be out there we should immediately prepare to be picked up once we landed. The other two jumpers were more experienced than me, so they told me to jump first and then they would follow and hook up with me. It all went like clockwork. When the pilots gave us the go signal, I jumped out and did the best spread-eagle position I knew how; and the other two guys came and hooked up with me. We probably held the three-pointed star for about 20-30 seconds and then pulled our ripcords and landed and scooped up our chutes and waited for the chopper. The pilots came down and whisked us away back to the Cam Rahn airfield thus ending my one and only “combat” parachute jump … far and away the most memorable one in my log book!

Mar 08 2019

Y2K – 1999

We probably all remember where we were on December 31, 1999. When the clock struck midnight, the world was supposed to go dark and anarchy was going to spread across the globe.

The Days Forward in Sydney — **ANA HARBOUR GRAND HOTEL, SYDNEY**

For me, the Y2K fiasco started long before that dreaded night, when I was the general manager of the ANA Harbour Grand Hotel in Sydney, Australia. In 1996, the hotel’s tech department and every conceivable expert informed me that our entire system was vulnerable to complete failure unless we updated every piece of computer equipment. So, the race began, and we spent several hundred thousand dollars on doing just that.

This was not our only concern, however. Also at stake were the over 1,400 people in the hotel, celebrating what would be the biggest party that Sydney would ever see. The fireworks were forecasted to be the most spectacular ever witnessed. The hotel commands sweeping views of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House, so in addition to our other restaurants, the rooftop restaurant and bar was going to be packed. The $1,500 per seat packages along the windows sold out before the $1,000 per seat packages. Everyone wanted to celebrate the “turn of the century.”

**READY FOR CELEBRATING THE “TURN OF THE CENTURY”**

The problem was that the hotel was hermetically sealed, and no windows could be opened. The windows had over a dozen different thicknesses, depending on which direction the rooms faced and how high up the 36 stories they were located. If the power went out for an extended period, the hotel would have to be evacuated immediately, and our emergency generators were only powerful enough to run a few elevators and emergency lighting. Compounding the capacity issue, when marble floors—which were everywhere in the hotel—heat up from a cooled state, they sweat, and the floors become skating rinks. Being summertime in Australia, the hotel would eventually become very hot.

Of course, once evacuated, what then? Locals could get home, somehow. However, non-Sydney residents had nowhere to go. This is where Saint Patrick’s church, about a quarter mile down the street came into play. Luckily, the pastor granted me permission to use the church as a refuge until the hotel became suitable again for occupation.

The only thing left to do was wait.

On that much-anticipated night, every member of management was on duty with specific responsibilities in case the Y2K dire predictions became a reality. Our command center was in the telephone switchboard room, and we all had two-way radios to communicate with each other.

As expected, the hotel was booming, with 100 percent occupancy in the rooms and restaurants.

We were all extremely tense, but then something happened that made us breathe a little easier. New Zealand did not go dark and descend into chaos! Two hours ahead of us, the country was a good test. If they didn’t succumb to madness, then Australia certainly wouldn’t. Of course, we had 2 more hours before the theory could be proved.

The minutes ticked away, and we were finally at that moment when years of efforts either paid off or were all for naught. Then it happened. The clock ticked to midnight.

The lights go out!

My heart jumped into my throat, and I let out a sound of anguish. But to my surprise, the lights came on 5 seconds later! As it turned out, my front office manager had flicked the light switches off. I nearly throttled him, but he was a lot younger and bigger than me, so it would not have been wise. In the end, we had a huge laugh and enjoyed the rest of the night into early morning with our guests.

When I think of all the time and money that went into Y2K efforts worldwide, it seems like the greatest hoax ever perpetrated. Yet it resulted in memories that will never be forgotten.

Feb 16 2019

The Castle Award – 2017

Having attended West Point Founders Day dinners for almost 50 years, many at the Washington D.C. West Point Society Chapter, I have watched throughout the years as the Castle Award was given to people that I have known and admired. That is why when the call came that I was to be so honored, I was surprised, very humbled. My part of the ceremony was to accept the award and address those assembled at the dinner. Here is a copy of my thoughts upon receiving this honor.

Thank you for the faith and trust you have placed in me as this year’s recipient of the Castle Memorial Award. It is an honor that I will never forget, and I will strive to maintain the legacy of those who came before me.

In preparation of my remarks, our Society President General Guy Swan gave me guidance: “Prosch, be brief, be bright, and be gone”.

So, I am going to share a few West Point vignettes, provide some observations on our older grads and younger grads, and strive to meet those instructions.

West Point Cadet Parade — **Cadet Parade**

Baseball game at West Point 1969 — **Baseball at West Point**

My first visit to West Point was in the 1950’s as a Cub Scout. My dad, the pack master, took us up for a field trip. We climbed over old cannons at Trophy Point, saw a parade, and watched an Army baseball game.

On the trip back home, my dad informed me that his Army Air Corps B-17 squadron commander was a West Pointer and a very good leader. He cited how in the early stages of WWII, the U.S. Army 8th Air Force was assigned the daylight bombing missions over Germany—and was taking heavy unit casualties – and that the unit living and working conditions in rural England were very poor. Shortly after the new West Point squadron commander arrived, however, positive changes occurred. Field sanitation and rations improved. They moved from tents to Quonset huts.

The new squadron commander bore into morale issues such as late pay and mail. But more importantly, he trained them relentlessly, around the clock in gunnery proficiency—to be deadly accurate. The B-17 bomber with six turrets and dual 50 caliber Browning machine guns was called the “Flying Fortress”.

B-17 in flight — **Flying Fortress, B-17**

The squadron conducted drills, rehearsals, and practice bombing raids on the base runway. The commander made them fly in tight formations to put out a 50-caliber wall of steel. Squadron casualties dropped dramatically.

**WWII Military Personnel in England in Front of Quonset Ht**

My dad told this story to an enraptured 9-year-old boy while driving back to the suburbs of New York City. He never mentioned West Point again to me …… But he did keep his Eisenhower Jacket with Major oak leaves and combat decorations hanging in his closet …eight years after my Cub Scout trip, I entered West Point.

1943 Britain — **Geoff’s father, John, center, in Wartime Britain, 1943**

On 4 June 1969, I witnessed what I then thought was the greatest sight in my life — West Point in the rearview mirror of my car. But I have learned that it was not West Point I was speeding away from on graduation day, rather my TAC (Tactical Officer – the Officer in charge of each cadet company), Central Area (where cadets walked off demerits),

and Final Exams. I discovered that I enjoyed the Army—reinforced by heavy leadership responsibilities and close relationships with soldiers. In fact, over the years, West Point has drawn me home. Each visit still invigorates my spirit and soul. When I eventually reboot from the private workforce to the full-time volunteer ranks, West Point will remain the center of gravity of my volunteer efforts and passion.

I am a child of the WWII generation: American men and women who grew up in the Great Depression, served in WWII, defeated the world’s tyrants, and then devoted their adult years to the building of modern America. This spectacular generation shaped our lives. They included our parents, teachers, ministers, and hometown merchants—who showed us the way through their own standards of hard work, sacrifice, and personal responsibility. These were lessons that have impacted my generation and which we have strived to pass onto our children. Our WWII veterans are with us in spirit, they are older, they are moving on, and they are all commemorated by the magnificent WWII memorial on the national mall—with great leader quotes carved in the stunning white marble columns, including GEN George Marshall’s quote (ROTC Virginia Military Institute, who gets my vote for greatest Soldier/Statesman of the 20th Century).
“We are determined that before the sun sets on this terrible struggle, our flag will be recognized throughout the world as a symbol of freedom on the one hand and of overwhelming force on the other”.

We greatly admire our WWII era grads, but we also are in awe of our younger grads. They watched the twin towers fall in New York City. They reacted, as we all did, with disbelief and with anger. And then this generation reacted with fierce determination. They made a promise to their country that they would lead in the battle for civilization in the global war on terror. They volunteered for Army duty and have served annual combat tours back—to—back—to back since 9/11. They are in for what they can give—not what they can get. You young military veterans, will be recognized as the greatest generation of this century — you represent America’s values and greatness at its core.

We appreciate the great work done by the West Point Class of 1958 who established and manages today the Walter Reed “Wounded Warriors Mentor Program” which has touched so many West Point Warriors including Dan Berschinski, Class of 2007, and Larkin O’Hern, Class of 2008. Dan, who lost both legs above the knee and his left arm from an IED in Iraq, advises, “I can still kick ass. I just need you old grads to tell me which ass to kick”. Larkin, who similarly, lost both legs above the knee and an arm in Iraq from an IED says his favorite quote comes from Winston Churchill: “Never, never, never give up.”
Today we see in our young grads the face of courage. We are inspired by their tenacity and strength. These American Soldiers are the future of our great Army. The Army and the American Soldier who have kept the wolf out of the barn since 1775 . . . And who will never … never … never give up. Army Strong. Thank You.