Known and Unknown - Donald Rumsfeld [382]
Cheney spoke at the ceremony, not only as the current vice president and a former secretary of defense, but also as a friend.19 Our time together in public service had started more than thirty-five years earlier and was now at an end. As I listened to his thoughtful words, I wished for a moment that more people could know Dick as Joyce and I did. There are facets of his personality that the public rarely, if ever, had a chance to see. Many years ago, our family took a trip with the Cheneys. One evening after a long day, one of the Cheney girls fell asleep in the living room and Dick gently lifted his child to carry her to bed. It was not an unusual gesture for a father, but it struck me then that his tenderness contrasted sharply with what most people, even his admirers, saw of Cheney. Few know the dedicated husband and father—not to mention friend—behind the calm and professional public servant.
President Bush introduced me and offered generous remarks. “There has been more profound change at the Department of Defense over the past six years than at any time since the Department’s creation in the late 1940s.”20 Working to reorient a department of three million people had been grueling but invigorating work. I knew I would miss it. And I knew I would miss working alongside a commander in chief who not only had strong convictions but also the courage to stand by them under withering criticism.
When it was my time to speak, I looked out on the sea of faces. It was a considerably larger crowd than I had expected—so many friends and colleagues in the Department with whom I’d worked so closely over so many years confronting such dangerous and difficult times for our country. It was an emotional moment. Those gathered there meant a great deal to me.
I wanted my remarks to be about the future, not the past.21 I wanted to speak to the men and women in the Department of Defense who would continue the long, hard slog against a twisted and deadly ideology. I returned to a theme that had stuck with me throughtout my public career—during the days of Vietnam when I served in Congress, during the Cold War when I had served as ambassador to NATO and then as secretary of defense, during the time of the Lebanon crisis as Middle East envoy, and throughout the terror and challenges of 9/11 and wars in Afghanistan and Iraq: Weakness is provocative. I knew America must not lose the will and the heart to persevere in long and difficult struggles. I knew that a loss of will was the only way America could lose any struggle.
“Today, it should be clear that not only is weakness provocative,” I cautioned, recalling what I had said to then President-elect Bush in 2000, “but the perception of weakness on our part can be provocative as well.”
I noted, “A conclusion by our enemies that the United States lacks the will or the resolve to carry out missions that demand sacrifice and demand patience is every bit as dangerous as an imbalance of conventional military power.”22
I told those gathered that the most inspiring moments of my tenure were my meetings with the troops, all volunteers. I had met tens of thousands of dedicated soldiers, sailors, airmen, and Marines deployed in the defense of our country, many of whom had enlisted after 9/11 just as my father had done after Pearl Harbor. Whenever Joyce and I met with wounded troops at Walter Reed Medical Center, Bethesda Naval Hospital, and in the field hospitals in Afghanistan and Iraq, I knew they had reason for regret, bitterness, or sadness. Instead, what I found time and again was that they were strong, upbeat and wanted to