George H. W. Bush

by Curt Smith

  Secretary of State Jim Baker made an extraordinary effort to achieve peace: More than two hundred meetings with foreign dignitaries; ten diplomatic missions; six congressional appearances; over 103,000 miles traveled to talk with—among others—members of the UN, the Arab League, and the European Community. Sadly, Saddam Hussein rejected out of hand every overture made by the United States and by other countries. He made this Just War an inevitable war.

  We all know war never comes cheap or easy. War is never without the loss of innocent life—and that is war’s greatest tragedy. But when a war must be fought for the greater good, it is our gravest obligation to conduct a war in proportion to the threat. That is why we must act reasonably, humanely, and make every effort possible to keep casualties to a minimum.

  We have done so. From the first day of the war, the Allies have waged war against Saddam’s military machine. We are doing everything possible to avoid hurting the innocents. Saddam’s response? Wanton, barbaric bombing of civilian areas. America and her Allies value life. We pray that Saddam Hussein will see reason. To date, his indiscriminate use of Scud missiles—nothing more than weapons of terror—has outraged the world.

  The price of war is always high. So it must never—ever—be undertaken without total commitment to a successful outcome. It is only justified when victory can be achieved. I have pledged that this will not be “another Vietnam.” Let me assure you: It won’t. We are fortunate to have in this crisis the finest armed forces ever assembled—an all-volunteer force joined by courageous allies. We will prevail because we have the finest soldiers, sailors, airmen, marines, and coast guardsmen any nation has ever had.

  Above all, we will prevail because of the support of the American people—armed with a trust in God and in the principles that make men free—people like each of you in this room. I salute Voice of Hope’s live radio programming for U.S. and Allied troops in the Gulf, your “Operation Desert Prayer,” and worship services for our troops held by, among others, the man who over a week ago led a wonderful prayer service at Fort Myer, over here across the river in Virginia, the Reverend Billy Graham.

  America has always been a religious nation—perhaps never more than now. Just look at the last several weeks: churches, synagogues, and mosques reporting record attendance at services; chapels packed during working hours as Americans stop in for a moment or two. Why? To pray for peace. I know that some disagree with the course that I have taken. I have no bitterness in my heart about that, no anger. I am convinced that we are doing the right thing—and tolerance is a virtue, not a vice.

  With the support and prayers of so many, there can be no question in the minds of our soldiers—or in the minds of our enemy—about what Americans think.

  We know that this is a Just War. We know that, God willing, this is a war we will win. But most of all, we know that ours would not be the land of the free if it were not also the home of the brave.

  No one wanted war less than I did. No one is more determined to seize from battle the real peace that can offer hope—that can create a new world order. When this war is over, the United States, its credibility and its reliability restored, will have a key leadership role in helping to bring peace to the rest of the Middle East. I have been honored to serve as president of this great nation for two years now and believe more than ever that one cannot be America’s president without trust in God. I cannot imagine a world, a life, without the presence of the One through whom all things are possible.

  During the darkest days of the Civil War, a man we revere not merely for what he did but what he was, was asked whether he thought the Lord was on his side. Said Abraham Lincoln: “My concern is not whether God is on our side, but whether we are on God’s side.”

  My fellow Americans, I believe the times will soon be on the side of peace—because the world is overwhelmingly on the side of God.

  Thank you for this occasion. May God bless our country. And please remember all of our coalition’s armed forces in your prayers.

  Medal of Freedom Speech

  Lady Margaret Thatcher

  White House State Room

  Thursday, March 7, 1991

  Sir Denis Thatcher. Mark and Diane Thatcher. Other friends of what is indeed our Special Relationship. Above all, the greengrocer’s daughter who shaped a nation to her will.

  America’s highest civilian award is the Medal of Freedom. We are here to present it to one of the greatest leaders of our time. For more than eleven of the most extraordinary years in British history, she helped freedom lift the peoples of Europe and the world: Former prime minister Margaret Thatcher.

  She has been called the Iron Lady—irrepressible; at times, incorrigible; always indomitable. She summoned the best of the human spirit—speaking for our values and our dreams. Once she said, “Turn if you like, the Lady’s not for turning,” and she wasn’t. Instead, the Free World turned to her—for counsel, for courage, for leadership that proclaimed a belief in right and wrong—not a devotion to what is popular.

  It has been said that great leaders reflect their time. Margaret Thatcher did. She also transformed her time as few leaders have. Consider the 1980s and early ’90s—a golden age of liberty. Remember what she meant, and how she mattered. Hers was not merely among Britain’s finest hours. She helped mold perhaps democracy’s finest era.

  Think, first, of what she meant to the place that Shakespeare called “this blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.” She didn’t create spirit in the British people—it’s been there for a millennium. But Margaret Thatcher believed in it and once again unleashed it.

  She cherished human dignity and self-determination—so when an antidemocratic military moved against the Falkland Islands, Britain met the challenge. She sought to decrease what government must do and increase what the individual may do—so she put private roofs over British heads and restored economic pride to British hearts.

  Like her successor, John Major, she believed passionately in free enterprise—so she used it to renew British initiative and national pride.

  Margaret Thatcher didn’t merely make Britain a leader in the New World Order. She defined the essence of the United Kingdom.

  Think, next, of what she meant to America, knowing that although ours may be “two countries separated by the same language,” Britain and America are—and always will be—joined by a common heritage and culture, civilization and soul.

  Mrs. Thatcher understood the ties that bind our nations—moral and economic, political and spiritual—so she defended America and helped inspire it. No country could have had a more valiant comrade in arms. No president, as another great leader, Ronald Reagan, would attest, could ask for a better friend.

  Margaret Thatcher stood with America when others stood silent. She knew that character is not what we have—but what we are. We will never forget her courage in helping forge a great coalition against the aggression which brutalized the Gulf. Nor will I forget one special phone conversation I had with the prime minister.

  In the early days of the Gulf crisis, I called her to say that though we fully intended to interdict Iraqi shipping, we were going to let a single vessel headed for Oman enter port without being stopped. She listened to my explanation, agreed with the decision, but then added these words of caution—words that guided me throughout the Gulf crisis—words I will never forget.

  “Remember, George,” she said. “This is no time to go wobbly.”

  Those who work with me in the White House know we use that expression often and have used it during some troubling times. Never, ever, will be it be said that Margaret Thatcher went wobbly.

  Finally, think of what Margaret Thatcher meant to the world. Her resolution and dedication set an example for us all. She showed that you can’t lock people behind walls forever when moral conviction uplifts their souls. She knew that tyranny is powerless against the primacy of the heart.

  Margaret Thatcher helped bring the Cold War to an end. She helped the human will o
utlast bayonets and barbed wire. She sailed freedom’s ship wherever it was imperiled. Prophet and crusader—idealist and realist—this heroic woman made history move her way.

  Prime Minister, there will always be an England. But there can never be another Margaret Thatcher. May God bless you and thank you for all that you have done.

  Now, it is my great honor and privilege to present the Medal of Freedom. [Script:] “Three times elected Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, Margaret Thatcher led her country with fearlessness, determination, integrity, and a true vision for Britain. In over a decade of achievement, she extended prosperity at home and made signal contributions to transatlantic partnership, the unity of the West, and overcoming the postwar division of Europe. With a strong sense of her nation’s history and of the principles which brought it to greatness, she restored confidence to the British people. The United States honors a steadfast and true ally and a firm friend of political and economic freedom throughout the world.”

  Pearl Harbor Fiftieth Anniversary Speech

  Pearl Harbor, Hawaii

  Aboard USS Arizona Memorial

  Saturday, December 7, 1991

  Thank you, Captain Ross. To our secretary of defense and our chairman of our Joint Chiefs; members of our cabinet; distinguished governors here and so many members of the United States Congress; Admiral Larson; members of our armed forces, then and now; families and friends of the Arizona and Utah; fellow veterans.

  It was a bright Sunday morning. Thousands of troops slept soundly in their bunks. Some who were awake looked out and savored the still and tranquil harbor.

  On the stern of the USS Nevada, a brass band prepared to play “The Star-Spangled Banner.” On other ships, sailors readied for the 8 a.m. flag raising. Ray Emory, who was on the Honolulu, read the morning newspaper. Aboard California, yeoman Durell Connor wrapped Christmas presents. On the West Virginia, a machinist’s mate looked at the photos just received from his wife. They were of his eight-month-old son, whom he had never seen.

  On the mainland, people listened to football games on the radio, turned to songs like the “Chattanooga Choo-Choo,” comics like “Terry and the Pirates,” and movies like Sergeant York. In New York, families went window-shopping. Out West, it was late morning, many families still at church.

  At first, to the American sailors at Pearl, the hum of engines seemed routine—and why not? To them, the idea of war seemed palpable—but remote. Then, in one horrible instant, they froze in disbelief. Suddenly, the abstract threat was real.

  These men did not panic. They raced to their stations. Some strapped pistols over pajamas, fought, and died. What lived was the shock wave that soon swept across America, forever immortalizing December 7th, 1941. Ask anyone who endured that awful Sunday. Each felt like the writer who observed: “Life is never again as it was before anyone you love has died; never so innocent, never so gentle, never so pliant to your will.”

  Today we honor those who gave their lives at this place, half a century ago. Their names were Bertie and Gomez and Dougherty and Granger. They came from Idaho and Mississippi and the sweeping farmland of Ohio. They were of all races and colors, native born and foreign born. Most of all, they were American.

  Think of how it was for these heroes of the Harbor—men who were also husbands, fathers, brothers, sons. Imagine the chaos of guns and smoke, flaming water, and ghastly carnage. Two thousand four hundred and three Americans gave their lives. But in this haunting place, they live forever in our memory—reminding us gently, selflessly, like chimes in the distant night.

  Every fifteen seconds a drop of oil still rises from the Arizona and drifts to the surface. As it spreads across the water, we recall the ancient poet: “In our sleep, pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair against our will comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.” With each drop, it is as though God Himself were crying. He cries, as we do, for the living and the dead: men like Commander Duncan Curry, firing a .45 revolver at attacking planes as tears streamed down his face.

  We remember Machinist Mate Robert Scott, who ran the air compressors powering the guns aboard California. When the compartment flooded, the crew evacuated. Scott refused. “This is my station,” he said. “I’m going to stay as long as the guns are going.” Nearby, aboard New Orleans, Chaplain Forgy assured his troops it was all right to miss church that day. His words became legend: “You can praise the Lord and pass the ammunition.”

  Captain Ross, then a warrant officer, was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for his heroism aboard Nevada that day. I salute him and the other Congressional Medal winners with us today, wherever they may be also.

  For the defenders of Pearl, heroism came as naturally as breath. They reacted instinctively by rushing to their posts, knowing that our nation would be sustained by the nobility of its cause. So did Americans of Japanese ancestry who came by the hundreds to give wounded Americans blood, and the thousands of their kinsmen across America who took up arms for their country. Every American believed in the cause.

  The men I speak of would be embarrassed to be called heroes. Instead, they would tell you, probably with defiance: “Foes can sink American ships, but not the American spirit. They may kill us, but never the ideals that made us proud to serve.”

  Talk to those who survived to fight another day. They would repeat the Navy hymn that Barbara and I sing every Sunday in the lovely little chapel up at Camp David: “Eternal Father, strong to save, Whose arm hath bound the restless wave . . . O hear us when we cry to Thee, for those in peril on the sea.”

  Back in June of 1942, I remember how Henry Stimson, the secretary of war, defined the American soldier and how that soldier should be, and I quote, “brave without being brutal, self-confident without boasting, being part of an irresistible might without losing faith in individual liberty.”

  The heroes of the Harbor engraved that passage on every heart and soul. They fought for a world of peace, not war, where children’s dreams speak more loudly than the brashest tyrant’s guns. Because of them, this memorial lives to pass its lessons from one generation to the next—lessons as clear as this Pacific sky.

  One of Pearl Harbor’s lessons is that together we could “summon lightness against the dark”—that was Dwight Eisenhower. Another: When it comes national defense, finishing second means finishing last. World War II also taught that isolationism is a bankrupt notion. The world does not stop at our water’s edge. Perhaps above all, that real peace, the peace that lasts, means the triumph of freedom, not merely the absence of war.

  As we look down—as Barbara and I just did—at Arizona’s sunken hull, tomb to more than a thousand Americans, the beguiling calm comforts us, reminds us of the might of ideals that inspire boys to die as men. Everyone who aches at their sacrifice knows America must be forever vigilant. And Americans must always remember the brave and the innocent who gave their lives to keep us free.

  Each Memorial Day, not far from this spot, the heroes of Pearl Harbor are honored. Two leis are placed upon each grave by Hawaiian boy scouts and girl scouts. We must never forget that it is for them, the future, that we must apply the lessons of the past. In Pearl Harbor’s wake, we won the war and, thus, the peace. In the Cold War that followed, Americans also shed their blood, but we used other means as well.

  For nearly half a century, patience, foresight, and personal diplomacy helped America stand fast and firm for democracy. But we’ve never stood alone. Beside us stood nations committed to democracy, free markets, free expression, and freedom of worship: nations including our former enemies Germany, Italy and Japan.

  This year these same nations stood with us against aggression in the Persian Gulf. You know, the war there was so different: different enemy, different circumstances, the outcome not in doubt. It was short; thank God, our casualties, mercifully few. Yet I ask you veterans of Pearl Harbor and all Americans who remember the unity of purpose that followed that momentous December day fifty years
ago: Didn’t we see the same national spirit when we launched Desert Storm?

  The answer is a resounding yes. Once the war for Kuwait began, we pulled together. We were united, determined, and confident. When it was over, we rejoiced in exactly the same way we did in 1945—heads high, proud, and grateful. What a feeling. Fifty years had passed, but the American spirit was as young and fresh as ever.

  This unity of purpose continues to inspire us in the cause of peace among nations. In their own way, amid the bedlam and anguish of that awful day, the men of Pearl Harbor served that noble cause, honored it. They knew the things worth living for were also worth dying for: principle, decency, fidelity, honor.

  So look behind me at Battleship Row—the gun turret still visible and flag flying proudly from a truly blessed shrine.

  Look into your hearts and minds: You will see boys who this day became men and men who became heroes.

  Look at the water here, clear and quiet, bidding us to sum up and remember. One day, in what now seems another lifetime, it wrapped its arms around the finest sons any nation could ever have—and carried them to a better world.

  May God bless them. And may God bless America, the most wondrous land on Earth.

  Eulogy to Ronald Reagan

  Washington National Cathedral

  Washington DC

  Friday, June 11, 2004

  When Franklin Roosevelt died in 1945, the New York Times wrote, “Men will thank God a hundred years from now that Franklin D. Roosevelt was in the White House.”

  It will not take a hundred years to thank God for Ronald Reagan—but why? Why was he so admired? Why was he so beloved?

  He was beloved, first, because of what he was. Politics can be cruel, uncivil. Our friend was strong and gentle.

  Once he called America hopeful, big hearted, idealistic, daring, decent, and fair. That was America and, yes, our friend.