We have done many interesting things. None was more interesting than our recent trip to seven African countries with a detour to Red Square, Moscow. I wish I could share with you my inner feelings about Africa, about their struggle after years of colonialism to find democracy, to build new nations—the handicaps they start with are immense. In Zimbabwe, in the entire country, when independence came, there were one hundred college graduates—only 100.
The thing that gave me hope about Africa, in the face of enormous economic problems, was their adherence to Christian values and to Christianity. The most moving grace I have ever heard was given by an African chief of state. If ever faith offered hope, almost the only hope, it is in Africa. . . .
But it was in Moscow that I was most deeply struck, but in quite a different way. . . .
It is hard to describe emotions or even scenes. Barbara is good at that. I am not. The flowers were spectacular. The setting awesome. The music Chopin, superb. We spoke to the grieving Mrs. Brezhnev and her family. She said, “We must all work hard for peace.”
The next day we stood in Red Square. The funeral procession arrived right on time in front of Lenin’s tomb, just as the clock struck twelve. Impressive timing. Right in front of us young soldiers strutted onto the cobblestones. The elite guard changed every fifteen minutes. We arrived early so we saw several shift changes. At first I saw only the goose-stepping-arm-swinging precision-trained young soldiers. I felt a tinge, not of fear, but of amazement at the power and the discipline. After a shift or two changed, I began to study the faces. They were young and healthy looking. One of them smiled as he almost missed his 90 degree turn. I thought not of hostile soldiers but of my own sons and the joy of being young and strong. I thought of our soldiers lost, and then I thought of young kids like this that died defending their Russian homeland in World War II.
As I stood there near our European allied friends, our African friends, our Latin-American friends—and a little down from Castro and Arafat and Jaruzelski of Poland, my mind thought not of the fallen Soviet leader but of peace, the crying need for world peace.
The eulogies were impressive. Yuri Andropov, with whom I met later, was firmly in control. A marshal spoke, a labor leader, a party boss. They all spoke of Leonid Brezhnev’s role as leader.
He was buried behind Lenin’s tomb in the Kremlin. Then the leaders re-mounted the viewing place atop the Lenin monument. The 300 strings that played so beautifully gave way to a military march. The troops marched by and the proceedings ended.
But you know what. It suddenly dawned on me and on Barbara and on George Shultz throughout all of this, the night before, the ceremony itself—something was missing. There was no mention of God. There was no hope, no joy, no life ever after, no mention of Christ and what His death has meant to so many. It was very different. So discouraging in a sense, so hopeless, so lonely in a way.
I thought of St. Martin’s Church, of our joy all year long, but especially at Christmas. If only their country was one nation under God, If only the kids there had grown up with a Christmas angel and maybe a shepherd in the family . . . peace would be so much easier to achieve.
Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall inherit the earth!
One of Washington’s big social events is the annual Alfalfa Club dinner, held every January in Washington. For years it was stag only until just recently when Alfalfa saw the light and admitted women. The club has only one purpose: to have this dinner once a year where we put aside all our political and other differences and rib each other. In 1983, I took as my guests our four sons.
Dear George, Jeb, Neil, and Marv,
Before the dust settles, I want to tell you how much this past weekend meant to me. I have had many truly happy moments in my life. Having you guys here this weekend was one of those.
My heart was full of pride when I got to introduce you to my friends at Alfalfa. I was proud—very proud with the way you looked and acted, and responded. You give Bar and me great happiness all the time.
I’m getting a little older. I’m not sure what the future holds. I don’t worry about that.
Win or lose, older or younger, we have our family. When all the politics are behind me, and they will be one day, I’ll be the happy guy around Golden Pond who knows what it is to be surrounded by kids—and grandchildren, too. I may have my racket slightly unused and my running shoes gathering dust, and they may make me go slow in Fidelity,27 but I’ll be surrounded by love—so what else counts!
Devotedly,
Dad
I took a swing through Europe in early February, touching base with most of our major allies. Here are just some of my notes from the trip:
Feb. 2, 1983
. . . The starkest memory so far is seeing the wall in Berlin with the dogs and the watch tower and the human component of all of that. What an impact it makes to stand up and see the tanks, the guards and the wire and the soldiers looking at you. I wonder how in God’s name anybody could think that the Soviet Union wanted normal relations or share any values on human rights when you see the barbwire, and the stark brutality of it all. . . .
February 10, 1983
. . . The highlight of Rome was the visit to the Pope . . . At one point in the conversation, I was almost in tears—and I hope it didn’t show, though maybe it did—as I tried to explain to him how strongly we felt about peace. It was like a confession in a sense, but all I felt was goodness and strength coming from the Pope. It was wonderful, uplifting feeling . . . there was this strength of the church, the strength of Christ, the strength of his dominating faith, and that made a tremendous impact. I told him about the impact that the Wall had made on me . . . I expect he, having come from Poland, must have wondered of my naiveté; but somehow it felt right to tell him the emotional feeling I had as I saw that closely knit barbwire, so closely knitted, that a person looking for freedom couldn’t put his fingers through it. . . .
March 16, 1983
I love country music, I know the names of some of the big stars, but I couldn’t go through and give you list of all the records and, yet, when I hear them, I know them, and I love them. . . .
I don’t know why country music sticks with me. I like listening to symphonies, and I don’t know the names of them, but I know what I like in it, and I can relax and go to sleep with that music. I love the lyrics of country, and I love the patriotism of the people. One of the Gatlin Brothers is from Odessa, Texas, and he came up to me and said he knew George and it made me feel great. The Oak Ridge Boys—weird looking beards—but they are such warm, wonderful guys, and they sent us two little pink shirts for our twins. They are just terrific—just terrific people. I don’t know what their politics are, and I don’t really care; but they really gave us a thrill, and every time I met one of them or saw one at some reception or something, they were just terrific. . . . I would rather see this country western show, Hee Haw, or the Grand Ole Opry, than go to a ball game—I really would. It’s a great mix of music, lyrics, barrooms, Mother, the flag and good-looking large women. There is something earthy and strong about it all. . . .
4-5-83
Mr. Marvin P. Bush
Alexandria, Virginia 22302
Dear Marv.
I wore this tie for 2 hours today. The reviews, frankly, were not good.
It is an expensive Italian cravate, given to me by Lionel Hampton. Even that impressive pedigree did not dissuade the critics. They remained militantly opposed.
Perhaps, on a younger man the results would be different,
Accept this new (all but 2 hours of its life lay before it) tie. May you wear it with more success than I had. If not, sell it.
Devotedly
Dad
April 13, 1983
I hurt my tailbone. I’ve got a bruise and nobody is sympathetic. I carried the rubber ring into the Oval Office for lunch on Thursday28 and asked the President if I could blow it up and sit on it; and then he told me a story of how he and Eddie Bracken29 crashed into each o
ther and he hit his tailbone. He’s a great story teller, a great joke teller, and the most understanding human being. It never occurred to me that he would be uncomfortable about my using that silly thing, and he wasn’t—he was just great about it. I do feel close, and he makes you feel totally relaxed. He’s hard to read; he doesn’t ask for advice; he doesn’t say, “what do you think about this,” very much—but the other side of that is, I feel uninhibited in bringing things up to him. When I do bring up something controversial, he might not comment; he might not say anything right there; and he might not look particularly enthralled about it or say, “tell me more;” but I never get the feeling that he doesn’t want me to tell him, so I do and I try not to overdo it. . . .
5-5-83
Mrs. Prescott S. Bush, Sr.
Pheasant Lane
Greenwich, Connecticut 06830
Dear Mum—
It’s mother’s day on Sunday. But everyday is Mother’s day. I love you—then, now, always.
Middle-size
On April 18, a bomb exploded in the American embassy in Beirut, killing forty-six people, including the entire CIA staff based at the embassy. It was a horrible tragedy. After I attended a memorial service for those who had been killed, I was shocked to get a letter from a family member who felt my “performance” at the service was insincere. It really hurt and shows just how tough it can be to be a “public” person.
6-13-83
Miss Catherine Votaw
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19146
Dear Ms. Votaw,
I was deeply disturbed to receive your letter. First, I want you to know how sorry I am that you felt this way. I was deeply moved by the tragedy. I had personally called many families. I received many expressions of appreciation from others for coming there; but that matters not. If I seemed casual and unconcerned and thus insensitive to your feelings—that is what matters. I came there to help not to hurt; obviously in your case I failed miserably when I told your Grandmother “I wouldn’t have missed it”—that did not mean I was enjoying some festivity. It meant the least I could do was to be there to express the sincere condolences of a grateful country. It wasn’t easy for anyone—I know that. One of my good friends lay dead.
I know my own emotions—I know my own convictions—that you don’t though, is clearly not your fault but mine.
I have been raised in the Episcopal Church. It is customary in our Church when one enters a pew—to pray briefly—on one’s knees—This was not done, as you suggest, for some TV appearance.
I am deeply sorry that you are hurt and that I added to this hurt. Please forgive me. I went to honor your Dad and others for their dedication and sacrifice—
Thank you for writing from the heart, as you did; please accept this expression of apology and concern. It comes from my heart.
Sincerely,
George Bush
I went back to Europe at the end of June to meet with European leaders. One of my chief tasks was to reassure the Germans about the deployment of intermediate-range nuclear forces (INF), the Pershing II missiles, in West Germany where they were controversial. There was a strong antinuclear movement in Germany and elsewhere in Europe, but INF deployment was essential to offset the Soviets’ SS-20s, already aimed at Europe. I ran into heavy protests in Germany.
Jun 27 83
TO THE PRESIDENT
FROM THE VICE PRESIDENT
SUBJECT: MEETINGS WITH CHANCELLOR KOHL
. . . All in all, the visits to Krefeld and Bottrop were useful. The Germans were deeply embarrassed by the fact that our motorcade had suffered a few dents and broken windows. I downplayed the issue . . .
The violent demonstrators were ugly—their hand gestures, though not new, had real vigor—and their appearance made them likely candidates in case central casting ever had a call for “Radical Left Demonstrators.” The sad part is they ruined the day not for us but for our Krefeld hosts . . .
Kohl is a true friend, who faces real domestic problems as deployment approaches. While keeping absolutely firm on our schedule, we must be sympathetic to Kohl’s problems and do all we can to ease his way through them.
With solid support from us Kohl and the Germans can, I believe, be counted on. But difficult days lie ahead—Krefeld might prove to be the Iceberg’s tip.
5 Jul 83
FOR THE PRESIDENT
FROM THE VICE PRESIDENT
President Koivisto of Finland was pleased to receive your invitation and accepts.30 The September time frame is agreeable. He is particularly pleased since he has met Soviet leaders four times in last year.
He took me aside to tell me of Andropov’s health. He thought it was better than the original report out of Finland but still Andropov had to be carried down the stairs to greet Koivisto.
. . . The high point was a genuine Finnish Sauna at the finest Sauna Association. I felt a little self-conscious at first sitting around stark naked with four Finnish guys I’d never laid eyes on before. We all did the whole treatment including jumping in the ice cold ocean. We saw less of each other after the jumping in that ice cold water. . . .
Warm regards.
On October 23, 1983, 241 Marines, sailors, and other members of a multinational peacekeeping force in Lebanon were killed when a suicide bomber blew up Marine headquarters near the Beirut airport. President Reagan asked me to go quietly to Beirut to bolster the morale of our remaining troops and to observe firsthand what had happened. It was one of my most difficult and emotional assignments.
26 Oct 83
PLEASE PASS TO THE PRESIDENT, SECSTATE, DCI & SECDEF
FROM THE VICE PRESIDENT
SUBJECT: VISIT TO GEMAYEL IN LEBANON
1. After an emotion packed visit to the carrier, Iwo Jima, where I had the privilege of pinning the Purple Heart on two wounded Marines, and a visit ashore to the pile of rubble that was once our BLT Headquarters and a chat with our Marines and Sailors on duty at the airport, I flew by chopper to the Presidential Palace to see [Amin] Gemayel.
2. Gemayel’s analysis of things in Lebanon was disturbing and disappointing. Here are some of his points:
A. When I asked him how he saw the upcoming reconciliation talks in Geneva all he would say was he would try to make them successful—but he showed no enthusiasm and certainly no optimism.
B. Pointed out he controlled as President only 15 percent of the land and the people and said he was performing miracles accomplishing the things he was for Lebanon.
C. Noted that as fast as the U.S. trained the LAF some would leave the Army under pressure from Syria. . . . He added that these same forces might some day turn and fight him.
D. He described four Armies fighting in Lebanon. Namely, Syrian, Iranian, Libyan and Israeli. Combined they control over 80 percent of his country.
E. He sees the U.S. Marine presence as essential to his survival. Without the Marines he suggested the Soviet backed Syrians would be sitting in his office.
F. Suggested that the answer was more pressure on Syria and Israel by the U.S. to get out of Lebanon. He could not say how.
G. Said he realized the MNF31 would not stay forever but saw no way to let them go home. And he expected more, similar terrorist acts in the future.
In short he painted us into a quagmire with little hope for the future.
I’m not in a position to explain his feelings today. Maybe he was on a downer. But his analysis, following on the heels of my visit to our brave dedicated troops, is very disconcerting. I was particularly disturbed by his talk about possibly more defections from the LAF along religious lines. I’ll bring you more on our great Marines and Sailors when I get back. They support you 100 percent.
Another grandchild, John Ellis Bush Jr., was born December 13th.
December 14th 1983
Dear Jeb and Colu,
Last night’s phone call brought us true happiness. Nothing else matters. The birth of JB Jr. put everything that is important into perspective. The birth of our boy, family,
love, whatever.
That kid has a running start. He has two great parents. He has a wonderful brother (even though the guy does give me grief on the football teams).
He has a beautiful sister who will hold him and play with him and love him.
. . . Hug the little guy and tell him that even though he is a tiny little fella, he has already enriched our lives.
Devotedly
Dad
Andropov died February 9, and I returned again to Moscow for a funeral and to meet the next Soviet leader.
15 Feb 84
FM:
THE VICE PRESIDENT
TO:
THE WHITE HOUSE, THE PRESIDENT
I’m sending you this message from the plane following my meeting with [Konstantin] Chernenko. We will be sending a detailed report shortly, but I want to give you my first impressions of the new Russian leader. Impressions shared by Howard Baker who was great to have along.
Despite reports that he might be ill and lacks the intellect and authority of Andropov, Chernenko seemed in command of the situation. He seemed alert, in good health, with a sparkle in his eye, and somewhat younger than his years. He did almost all of the talking on the Soviet side and what he had to say was, in my view, encouraging. He asked me to tell you that we can have better relations. That he believes it is possible to do so. He said that it is by no means certain we will have a fatal confrontation; that we are not inherently enemies. I told him that we, too, were ready for dialogue and progress.
Chernenko is no pushover but he does seem open and treated us graciously. He gave the clear impression that there is somebody at home in the Kremlin with whom we can do business. . . .
I’ll have the small Mexican plate if lunch is on Thursday.
George
2-16-84
All the Best, George Bush: My Life in Letters and Other Writings Page 36