immeasurable  confidence  to  your  com- rades  underarms.  Their  bravery  was  for- tified by the knowledge that the corpsmen, the sailors of solace, were literally at their sides with the skill and means to staunch wounds,  allay  pain  and  to  carry  them back,  if  need  be,  to  safe  shelter  and  the ministrations  of  the  finest  medical  talent in  the  world. You   corpsmen   performed   fox-hole surgery while shell fragments clipped your clothing, shattered the plasma bottles from which   you   poured   new   life   into   the wounded, and sniper’s bullets were aimed at  the  brassards  on  your  arms.  On  Iwo Jima,  for  example,  the  percentage  of casualties  among  your  corps  was  greater than  the  proportion  of  losses  among  the Marines. Two of your colleagues who gave their  lives  in  that  historic  battle  were posthumously   cited   for   the   Medal   of Honor. One of the citations reads: “By his great personal valor in saving others at the sacrifice  of  his  own  life  (he)  inspired  his companions,   although   terrifically   out- numbered, to launch a fiercely determined attack  and  repulse  the  enemy  force.”  All that he had in his hands were the tools of mercy, yet he won a memorable victory at the  cost  of  his  life. No wonder men and women are proud to wear the emblem of the Hospital Corps! It is a badge of mercy and valor, a token of unselfish service in the highest calling— the  saving  of  life  in  the  service  of  your country. Your  corps’  men  and  women  toiled, often as dangerously, never less vitally, in areas remote from battle: In hospitals, on hospital  ships,  in  airplanes,  in  laboratories and  pharmacies  and  dispensaries.  They helped, and are helping (for the task is far from  over)  in  the  salvage  of  men’s  broken bodies and minds that is the grim product and  perennial  aftermath  of  war.  Some  of you  contributed  skills  in  dental  technology, some  engaged  in  pest  control  to  diminish unfamiliar diseases, others taught natives of  distant  islands  the  benefits  of  modern hygiene,  even  to  midwifery  and  everyday sanitation. Scores  of  corpsmen,  made  prisoners  of war, used their skill and strength to retain life  and  hope  in  their  fellow  captives through  long  years  of  imprisonment  and deprivation. Whatever  their  duty,  wherever  they were, the men and women of the Hospital Corps   served   the   Navy   and   served Humanity, with exemplary courage, sagac- ity  and  effort.  The  performance  of  their duties  has  been    “in   keeping   with   the highest   traditions   of   the   United   States Naval  Service.”   That,  to  any  man  or woman, is the highest of praise. The corps has  earned  it  and  continues  to  earn  it. For, as I said, the task is not yet com- pleted.  Thousands  of  the  war’s  casualties will long need the ministrations of physi- cians,  nurses,  and  the  Hospital  Corps before   they   can   return   to   normal, peacetime pursuits. Hundreds may have to be cared for as long as they live; that these unfortunates are so few is in large measure due  to  the  prompt,  skillful  aid  accorded our wounded and stricken, by your corps. Illness  and  accident  will  add  to  these numbers,  of  course.  There  will  always  be the sick and injured, and there will always be  need  for  trained  personnel  to  help restore them. The Navy’s best laboratories are  forever  engaging  in  research  to  com- bat  disease,  to  speed  the  healing  of  torn flesh and broken bones, to devise new aids for the maimed to lead a normal life. And so  I  am  impelled  to  address  this  message not  only  to  the  men  and  women  of  the corps who have completed their service to the  Navy,  but  to  those  who  are  presently in  the  Corps,  and,  also,  to  those  who  are joining—or   rejoining—in   that   inspiring career. It   is   no   easy   profession,   even   in peacetime. There is danger in the test tubes and  culture  racks  as  menacing  as  in  the guns   of   an   unvanquished   enemy.   The Hospital  Corps  is  never  at  peace.  It  is forever  on  the  firing  line  in  the  ceaseless war against disease and premature death. That is why the corps’ emblem is truly “the red  badge  of  courage,”  a  designation  to all the world that the person who wears it has  been  self-dedicated  to  the  service  of humanity. Customarily  the  “Well  done”  signal  is reserved   for   the   closing   phrase   of   a message  of  congratulations,  but  I  placed it   in   the   forefront   where,   in   this   in- stance, it most fittingly belongs. I repeat it, 2-4