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[Congressional Record Volume 141, Number 75 (Monday, May 8, 1995)]
[Senate]
[Pages S6234-S6236]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]

                    THE 50TH ANNIVERSARY OF V-E DAY

  Mr. DASCHLE. Mr. President, today marks the 50th anniversary of V-E 
Day, the day that saw the end of the Second World War in Europe.
  From its European beginning on September 1, 1939, with Hitler's 
invasion of Poland, to the surrender of the German armies in Italy, on 
April 29, 1945, the war that was supposed to usher in the 1,000-Year 
Reich ended after 6 years of death, genocide, and destruction on a 
scale never seen before or since.
  The outcome of the war changed our world profoundly, with effects 
that still resonate today. It left the United States the sole undamaged 
world power. With that status came responsibilities that most Americans 
had not imagined at the outset. In the 50 postwar years, those 
responsibilities have demanded more in American treasure and lives than 
from any other participant.
  European and Japanese cities suffered the destruction of repeated 
artillery fire and massive carpet bombing. European civilians found 
themselves uprooted, fleeing desperately from their historic hometowns 
as massive armies moved back and forth across frontiers. But Americans 
paid a price, too.
  By 1990, it is estimated that the total cost of the Second World War 
to the United States had reached $4.6 trillion--including the postwar 
cost of veterans care and benefits. The cost of caring for our veterans 
is a cost of war, and should be recognized as such, lest we forget, 
decades later, the price of [[Page S6235]] war in the form of our 
greatest treasure--our young men and women who served.
  In total, more than 16 million American men and women served their 
Nation in World War II. More than 291,000 paid the ultimate price on 
the field of combat; 113,000 others died of wounds, accidents, 
illness--all the risks and dangers that attend service in wartime. All 
told, more than 405,000 American lives were cut short by the war.
  Another 670,000 Americans were casualties in that war--men and women 
who returned with their health damaged, their bodies scarred, their 
lives changed.
  Tens of thousands from every State in the Nation served in the Second 
World War. South Dakota, one of the Nation's least populous States, 
sent an estimated 60,000 men and women to fight. A postwar review in 
1950 estimated that more than 10 percent of the South Dakotans who 
served earned citations for personal bravery, military valor, and, in 
three case, the highest military honor our Nation grants, the award for 
service ``above and beyond the call of duty,'' the Congressional Medal 
of Honor.
  The Medal of Honor is the decoration of which Harry Truman said he 
would rather have earned than be President.
  Two of the three South Dakotans who won the Medal of Honor served in 
the Pacific War and returned home after the war. One, Joe Foss, became 
Governor of South Dakota. The third South Dakotan awarded the Medal of 
Honor served in the European theater. He died there, having established 
a record that is outstanding, even compared with his peers.
  Capt. Arlo L. Olson, of Toronto, South Dakota, served in the Italian 
campaign in 1943. For 26 grueling days in the mountainous terrain 
northeast of Naples, he led his company by foot across the Volturno 
River into enemy-held territory, directly into enemy machine gun 
emplacement in some of the roughest fighting experienced by any 
American units in the war. He was shot on October 27, 1943, but refused 
medical treatment until his men had been taken care of. He died as he 
was being carried down Monte San Nicola.
  The citations honoring South Dakotans are stirring. Harold G. Howey, 
in July 1943 in Sicily, faced a cliff fortified by the enemy and fought 
his way to the top under intense enemy fire despite his wounds. He won 
the Distinguished Service Cross and the Bronze Star Medal for his 
actions.
  David Colombe of Winner leapt into a German foxhole, armed only with 
a knife, seized an enemy rifle and worked his way behind enemy lines, 
demoralizing the withdrawing soldiers with heavy fire and leading to 
the collapse of their defense. His Distinguished Service Cross was well 
earned.
  Like other Americans, South Dakotans were captured. Melvin McNickle, 
one of the famous McNickle brothers of Doland, both of whom earned the 
Legion of Merit, maintained morale and discipline and preserved the 
lives of his fellow internees for 2 years in Stalag Luft III in 
Germany.
  The hometowns of the men and women from South Dakota who fought in 
the war span the length and breadth of the State. They came from Sioux 
Falls and Rapid City, Aberdeen and Buffalo, Belle Fourche and Doland, 
Milbank and Spearfish.
  They bore names that reflect the history of our State--Jorgenson, 
Novotny, Lauer, Kilbride, Rossow, Thompson, Fischer, Haag, Labesky, 
McGregor, Adams, Bianchi, Soissons, Zweifel--the people who settled 
South Dakota and became proud Americans from every corner of the Earth. 
Many of them fought on ground their fathers had called home.
  South Dakotans take special pride in the heroism and courage of those 
like David Colombe of Winner, Vincent Hunts Horse of Wounded Knee--who 
won the Silver Star for the part he played in helping the United States 
Army capture Gondorf in Germany--and Sampson One Skunk, who took part 
in the raid on Dieppe in 1942 and the first attack on Anzio, and won 
the Silver Star for his exploits.
  They are part of a proud and honorable tradition of native Americans 
who have served courageously and honorably in every U.S. conflict, from 
the Revolutionary War onward.
  Last year Congress finally approved legislation to establish a 
national memorial acknowledging and honoring the heroism and service of 
native Americans in combat. The Native American Veterans' Memorial will 
pay an overdue tribute to those who served their Nation, even when 
their Nation did not serve them--to those who fought under the U.S. 
flag before they were even granted citizenship themselves in 1924.
  Our Lakota-speaking people played an additional role in the Second 
World War, one that is now as well known as it deserves to be. They, 
like Navajo and Choctaw speaking native Americans, were the famous code 
talkers of the war--the people who manned the radio communications in 
native languages that no code-breaker or cipher specialist could 
decode, because language has no breakable code.
  There is a monument in Phoenix, AZ, to the code talkers of the Navajo 
Nation. But there were others besides them. The Lakota speakers of the 
Sioux Nations of South Dakota and neighboring States were responsible 
for the safety and lives of thousands of their fellow Americans in 
combat.
  Philip LaBlanc, of Rapid City, served with the 1st Cavalry Division 
from 1942 to 1945. Others--Baptiste Pumpkinseed, Oglala or Redbud 
Sioux, Eddie Eagle Boy of the Cheyenne River Sioux, Guy Rondell of the 
Sisseton-Wahpeton Dakota Nation, John Bear King of Standing Rock--all 
of them and their comrades manned radio communications networks, using 
Lakota, to advise of enemy troop movements, numbers of enemy guns, 
information crucial to saving the lives of other Americans.
  These men worked 24 hours around the clock in headphones when the 
action was heaviest, without rest or sleep. Most famously, they served 
in the Pacific theater, but there were code talkers in the Italian and 
German theaters in Europe as well. Their work saved the lives of 
countless other Americans. Along with the Navajo and Choctaw code 
talkers, the Lakota code talkers deserve their own page in our national 
memory of the world war.
  Philip LaBlanc himself served for 3 years without a single furlough. 
He left theater operations only after being hit and wounded by enemy 
gunfire.
  As well as the men who manned the combat fronts in the war, the 
Second World War was the first one in which American women played a 
significant role. They did so both at home and abroad.
  Although the myth is that the enemy declared total war, it was 
America who, in fact, declared total war. While Hitler imported slave 
laborers from Eastern Europe to work for the German housewife, American 
women ran the factories that were the arsenal of democracy. American 
women enlisted in support battalions of all kinds on active duty as 
well.
  South Dakotan women were no exception. Edith Bolan of Rapid City 
raised three children, and worked as a welder during the war. It was 
her task to crawl into the small spaces that men could not reach to put 
the finishing touches on Navy ships. She made casings for bombs. She 
led the life that so many other American women, from coast to coast, 
experienced in the war.
  Those who served on the homefront did not get the medals and 
citations of those serving in combat. But their work and dedication 
were every bit as important to the final victory. So was the work of 
the women closer to the frontlines.
  Loretta Hartrich, a native of Sioux Falls, served with the Red Cross 
in the so-called clubmobiles that traveled with the frontline troops, 
serving coffee, doughnuts, and morale to the men at the front. The 
clubmobiles were often in harm's way, and the women who ran them risked 
death and entrapment when a fast-moving front shifted. Loretta 
remembers being asked to sing the ``Indian Love Call'' and having every 
repetition of ``when I'm calling you'' punctuated by German artillery.
  American women served as nurses in rear units and on the front, 
landing on Normandy 4 days after the first Allied troops. They served 
in communications, administrative, and intelligence work throughout the 
duration of the war, and they, too, have earned the proud title of 
veteran.
  Today, those once-young men and women are the proud veterans of 
service in what many have called the last good war. I understand what 
those words are meant to convey, but for [[Page S6236]] those who saw 
active duty, who saw friends die, who felt the sheer brutality of heavy 
artillery attack or the random terror of combat on unknown, rough 
terrain against a well-trained and ruthless opponent, there was no good 
war.
  Our cause was good, and it triumphed. But we triumphed at terrible 
personal cost to those Americans who served.
  Some of our Senate colleagues served, and some bear the outward 
scars. Senator Inouye, of Hawaii, served with the most decorated unit 
in the military in Italy campaign, and paid a high price for his valor. 
Senator Dole served in Italy with great honor at enormous personal 
price. The veterans of the war who still serve in Congress were honored 
last week at a ceremony at the National Archives.
  I am proud to serve in the Senate with all of them, and I express my 
sense of respect for their service, my gratitude as a citizen for their 
sacrifices, and my great pride, as an American, for the spirit they and 
their colleagues in arms showed the world more than 50 years ago.
  Great celebrations have occurred in the old Allied capitals in Europe 
to celebrate V-E Day. Another great celebration will be held in Moscow, 
to celebrate the end of what the Russians call the Great Patriotic War.
  In America, there are no huge celebrations. We were the arsenal of 
democracy in that war, the productive force without which it might not 
have been won by the Allies. Our people suffered death and injury far 
from home, for causes and quarrels in which they had no direct stake.
  The distance of 50 years does not erase the genuine hardship, 
difficulties, and pain they suffered or the price many of them paid. It 
was not a good war because there are no good wars for those in the line 
of fire. Like every war, it was vicious, uncaring of life, random in 
its accidents and mistakes, brutal for its participants.
  And yet Americans served, and did so with distinction. We ought to 
take pause to take great pride in the kind of people we are, and to 
honor the memories of those who paid the ultimate price. Those who 
served have done more for their fellow citizens and for the future than 
any words can describe. They are American heroes, one and all, and we 
salute them.
  Mr. President, I yield the floor, and I suggest the absence of a 
quorum.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. The clerk will call the roll.
  The legislative clerk proceeded to call the roll.
  Mr. DOLE. Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the order for 
the quorum call be rescinded.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. Without objection, it is so ordered.
  Mr. DOLE. Mr. President, are we still in morning business?
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. Morning business has not been closed.
  

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