Editor’s Note: In October 1944, the 100th Infantry Battalion and the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, composed largely of Japanese American soldiers, helped liberate Bruyères, a town in northeastern France, from Nazi occupation during World War II. Despite facing discrimination at home, these Nisei soldiers fought with extraordinary courage in the forests and mountains of the Vosges region. Their victory came at a tremendous cost, with many soldiers killed or wounded. More than seven decades later, their sacrifices continue to be honored by the people of Bruyères and remembered by the families whose lives were forever changed by their service.
In the following poem, the granddaughter of a 442nd veteran reflects on a 2013 trip to Bruyères that deepened her understanding of her grandfather’s legacy, the meaning of his service and the responsibility of future generations to preserve the lessons of history.
It happened in the fall of 2013,
When I learned more about my family’s past and everything in between.
A trip to Bruyeres, France to commemorate the town’s liberation,
From Nazi thugs and Hitler’s fascist regime and persecution.
My grandfather, along with his other young 100th and 442 brothers, helped fight for the
town’s freedom,
That’s what we were celebrating, which the town celebrates every year and then some.
Yes, my grandfather and his brothers fought, and many died, for a country that initially
questioned,
That despite their valiant efforts, others had hate, quarrels and suspicions.
Then and years later, what they looked like didn’t matter,
All the townspeople cared about was that they saved them from the latter.
The latter, which meant bombs and shrapnel would forever rain down,
Said an elder French gentleman who remembered what happened in his town.
Nazis banged on doors, raided houses, and basements,
Looking for Jews and anyone who refused to be complacent.
So in the fall of 2013 we attended a parade that honored our fathers and grandfathers,
We were showered with handshakes, double cheek kisses, and flowers.
We paid our respects to the lost souls within the Vosges Mountain forest,
Where heroic Nisei soldiers sacrificed everything and gave it their best.
And as if it were a movie, I’ll never forget this part.
A veil of light rain fell upon us as we held salutes and hands to our hearts.
Beams of light flickered in through the clouds as well that day,
As we listened to the National Anthem and Hawai‘i Pono‘i play.
The light mist rain made it hard to tell,
Though you knew everyone had tears stream down their faces as well.
So much love to overcome such hate from that era and time,
One we hope to look back but then forward with pride.
Then that night was a true showing of spirit above and beyond,
As we had a dinner with the townspeople and danced til dawn.
We laughed, and cried, drank, and broke bread,
Not even understanding what the other person said.
The youngins were busy teaching each other how to swear in French and Pidgin,
While others were dancing in a conga line and making arrangements to come again.
It was the fall of 2013 when it all made sense by far,
Why I had to read The Diary of Anne Frank and Farewell to Manzanar.
When I realized how proud of an American my grandfather was and continued to be,
How he won as city councilman, and promised others he’ll help them as well to be free.
It was the fall of 2013 when I learned how he and his brothers helped change the
course of history,
Why I, and many others, were able to have more opportunities than many.
Why I was able to go to college, grad school, and start a career as a journalist and
editor,
While other places around the world cannot fathom that kind of will and desire.
It was the fall of 2013 when I learned that love overcomes hate,
That we stand up for others even when it’s easier to choose another fate.
It was the fall of 2013 when I’ll forever remember and so will my grandfather’s children,
And their children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children.
We’ll remember to work hard, be strong, kind, and courageous,
Even when there are people who are scared themselves or vicious.
We’ll remember our fathers’ and grandfathers’ stood firm,
Against hate and evil that came knocking down doors around every turn.
We’ll remember they were constantly cold and wet as they fought in the fall season
terrain,
How their boots were constantly soaked and their bellies were never full and pained.
We’ll remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice so we can have our democracy
and freedom,
That truth and justice will prevail despite what any dictator or citizen could fathom.
It was the fall of 2013 when I realized who I was and where I came from,
That my grandfather and his brothers were fighting for us and everyone.
They knew they were fighting for something bigger, for those young and old,
An amazing victory that will continue to be studied, revered, and told.
It was the fall of 2013 when I knew I would remember to share and tell,
With my children, birthed in seven years and then three years later as well.
I will share with them who they are and where they come from because of my Ojiichan,
That they are safe and loved, and that we must make it just like others have done.
That our fathers and grandfathers are the reason why we’re able to dance, make art,
love, and be who we are to its fullest,
Why we’re able to live with our heads held high, speak our minds, and protest.
May we all remember then, now, and forever why their sacrifices still hold so true,
And why we cannot let history repeat itself, not today, tomorrow or nowhere near our
future too.
May we remember what philosopher R.G. Collingwood said to everyone
That “the only clue to what man can do is what man has done.”
May we stand strong, like they did 83 years ago this year,
That threats to our neighbors is a threat to us all, I fear.
Nevertheless we’ll hold the line and you’ll all be remembered by your children,
And their children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children.
I close this poem to say again, if it wasn’t clear, how proud I am to be your
granddaughter,
And that I promise, we all promise, to continue to share your stories in your honor.
