Curt Weldon: The Troublemaker

‘I know who that young man was’
he mood was dour. Weldon is a master orator, so he knows how to leave the audience on a high note. He told them about a congressional visit to Iraq a few years ago, when he and other members helicoptered in to meet with a two-star general and a gathering of his troops. They landed not far from the "spider hole" where U.S. forces unearthed Saddam Hussein. Weldon told the general that he wanted to talk to the enlisted personnel separately from the officers, as he always does, so they could speak freely. But first, he wanted to know about the casualties.

The general had lost some very good soldiers. There was, as it turned out, a young officer who had been ambushed a couple of weeks ago between Tikrit and Kirkuk. He was shot, but he got up and successfully directed his forces to return fire, and then was shot again and died where he fell. Weldon paused. He told the general, "I know who that young man was."

"Congressman," the general said, "I have 30,000 troops under my command. You could not know who that lieutenant was."

Weldon replied, "It was David Bernstein," and the general's eyes widened. "How would you know that?"

Weldon explained. The lieutenant was from Pennsylvania and was a West Point graduate. Weldon was familiar with the incident that the general recounted because he had nominated Bernstein, who had attended high school in Weldon's district, to the U.S. Military Academy. And before Weldon left for Iraq, Bernstein's parents asked him to deliver a three-page letter they wrote about their only son to anyone there who might have known him. Weldon said he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out the letter. "I [then] saw something I've never seen in my 20 years on the Armed Services Committee. In the middle of that battlefield, among hundreds of soldiers and a congressional delegation, a hundred yards from Saddam's hole, I saw a two-star general cry." As Weldon told the story, many of the rapt listeners in the hotel ballroom looked like they might, as well.

Weldon continued. The general reached into his pocket and pulled out a medal. It was a Silver Star, awarded posthumously to Bernstein for gallantry in action. "Would you give this to his parents?" the general asked. When the general regained his composure, he informed Weldon that his own son was serving in Iraq, and that he and Bernstein had been friends at West Point.

Weldon thanked the attendees "for your work." But, he said, "I have come to challenge you to understand the pressures the Congress faces to make the best military known to mankind on the face of the earth." With that, a roomful of strangers who had settled in for a day of speeches on acquisition and budget requirements leaped to their feet in a thunderous ovation. If they could have cast a vote right then, some might have. The woman who had introduced Weldon came to the podium, took his head in her hands, and kissed his face.

On the way back to his office, Weldon gave a ride to a White House fellow, Rodney Bullard, who was assigned to shadow him. The program is an elite grooming process for future government leaders. "How did you get assigned to me?" Weldon asked.

Bullard smiled and said softly, "I had a wish list."

"A troublemaker?" Weldon said, smiling too. "That's what you wanted?"

"A fiery congressman."

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