Silent Warriors

On my last day in Maui, I noticed a dusty framed certificate in the living room. 

I doubt it had been looked at for years.

I knew that Grandpa Yamada had had a brother who served in World War II in the US Army, and who had died in France. I knew his name was Hideo. I also knew that his family did not want him to go, but he did. His family wasn't interned -- Japanese-Americans in Hawaii were largely exempt.

I remember finding his name on the monument to Japanese-American WWII servicemen in Little Tokyo, Los Angeles. I remember making a pencil etching of his name, paying the recommended donation, and hesitating to send it home. Someone suggested that it was unwise to bring him up to Grandpa.

And so, like so many things in my family, it was discarded and unspoken, and the opportunity to hear the story died. How ironic that we would be so cowardly when it came to discussing frankly the brave and honorable death of a relative.

And so here was an artifact from that past. Here was the thing I kept in mind every time I heard a Jap joke, the thing that I thought about every time a Korean or Chinese client or stranger grew slightly brittle upon learning that I am of Japanese ancestry. I have been told that in Asia, a conception of nationality distinct from race is challenging. My exposure was limited, so I can't say if that's the case. But if it is, it is one more reason I am grateful to have been born on this side of the ocean.

But here was new information. I assumed, being Hawaiian, Hideo served in the 100th Battalion. But it appears he served in the storied 442nd Regimental Combat Team, in F Company -- a distinguished company within a legendary regiment.

In high school, I read Silent Warriors: A Memoir of America's 442nd Regimental Combat Team. The author, Jack Wakamatsu, served in F Company.

I think Hideo was mentioned in passing -- just a sentence. At the time I wasn't sure if it was my great-uncle... Hideo is a common enough name.

The certificate indicates he died October 15, 1944, which would put it at the beginning of the attack on Bruyères.  So he died before the regiment rescued the "Lost Battalion".

My father claimed that he was killed by a sniper. But my father had a terrible habit of embellishing stories -- it would be a shame if he chose to embellish this one, for surely it doesn't need artificial drama.

His awards, and brief mention in Silent Warriors, perhaps suggests that he wasn't an exemplary member of the unit. But I'm not sure that means much if the unit itself is the most decorated, for its size and duration of service, in the history of American warfare.

I know nothing else about the man. I can't claim any pride for his service. But I do hope to keep his service in mind as I try to be a more decent man.