THE HAWAI'I NISEI STORY
Americans of Japanese Ancestry During WWII

After the first German 88MM shell passed over our heads, we knew that we were in combat for real.

Hill 140 – not knowing the term litter bearer, we trained on the job to assist the medics take the wounded back to the aid station under terrific mortar and 88MM shelling.

Taking cover behind a huge rock I saw a dead body covered with a raincoat. When I uncovered the raincoat, it was my buddy Tadao Nakamura from Kapoho next to Pahoa where I grew up. As a youth we played and knew each other.

I wanted to take care of him but we were told that our chaplain will take care of him later. I was shocked and at a loss for words.

As the regiment pushed toward Leghorn, we received orders to withdraw from the front line.

Joined the First Airborne Task Force in Lido Di Roma to take glider training. We were attached to the 517th Parachute Infantry Regiment. On Aug. 15, 1944, we made the invasion to Le Muy, France.

The 517th Paratroop Regiment left early hours in the morning and we later left Orbelello Airfield near Rome for destination unknown.

The C-47 pilots guided our glider pilot safely by flying higher or lower to avoid the German Ack-ack flakes as we approached the southern coast of France.

I looked down and saw that our battleships and landing crafts were already making their move. The coastal area was burning and covered with dark smoke.

We landed near Le Muy, France. Our instructions were to take positions to protect the 517th Paratroop Reg’t. who already jumped ahead of us.

Scared as I was, I checked the jeep, equipments and the ropes that were secured to the frame of the glider. No sooner, I felt the jerk. I knew then that we were on our own.

Our pilot signaled us to prepare for landing. I held my B.A.R. rifle tightly and waited for the landing.

As I looked out, I saw tall trees, telephone poles, grape vineyards and lots of Anti-glider poles about 10 feet high in long rows tied together with wires and mines hung at the base.

Suddenly we crash-landed into the grape field. The floor of our glider which was made from plyboard broke loose with the forced landing.

The interior of the glider was covered with dust and I was pushed forward lying sidewards with pain on my left knee. My buddy Cpl. Ralph Watanabe was also bruised and we helped each other out of the glider.

At that moment, my thought was to find my rifle and our squad and get into position. Painful as I was, we cut the rope and got the jeep out of the glider.

Then I dug my fox hole and waited for the order. With so much confusion and tensions, we failed to get medical treatment.

It was good that we didn’t know what we were getting into because if we had to do it over again, I don’t think that you could get me to ride those “Flying Box Cars” again.

Rescue of the “Lost Battalion.”

Our Anti-Tank company was relieved from the outskirts of Nice to rejoin our 442nd RCT on 20 of October, 1944.

After three days of traveling, we reached Bruyeres, France late in the afternoon and bivouac near the service company.

We were committed to join the rifle company as litter bearers or as front line rifle men. Our medical corps and our fellow rifle men appreciated our speedy evacuation of the wounded during the regiment’s gallant and costly push in the Vosges to rescue the 36th division’s “Lost Battalion.”

Four of us formed a team of litter bearers. As we advanced through the dense forest under artillery and mortar fires, one of our litter bearer, Pfc. S. Tanaka, got hit. We pulled him behind a huge tree and applied first aid and returned him to the aid station. It was very cold and rainy.

Later, the snow covered the dense wooded hills and terrain. For days we slept with our damp shoes in our fox holes while helping the medic take care of the wounded.

As I recall, it was hell under fire and even today, at times I feel the sole of my feet gets swollen and it feels very uncomfortable.

We called it the “Champagne Campaign.” We took defensive post north of Nice around L’Escarene and Peira Cava. We had a little time to relax for the first time.

I was already on the LST ship ready to return to Italy when I became ill with German measle. Dr. Kawaoka got me off the ship and left me behind in Marseille, France.

Later when I returned to Leghorn, Italy, I was sent to a replacement depot. Our regiment was already in combat. My request to rejoin our unit was denied.

Since I already had the experience as a litter bearer, I was told to assist the 92nd division medical squad group. They gave me the responsibility to lead a squad of 10 to 15 men to form a team along the steep mountain side. Those colored injured boys were much heavier than our Hawaiian boys.

No sooner, we received word that the war in Italy was coming to an end. When the official day of the end of the war came, I prayed for the boys that we lost and thanked the Lord for taking care of me.

We later stayed near Ghedi airfield and our mission was to process the prisoners of war. Our last order was to guard the POW stockades in Pisa until we sweated out the point system to return home.

Assisting the Medic as a litter bearer, I also recall the time when taking the seriously wounded out, I saw this soldier. His face was turning blue and part of the shrapnel was sticking out of his thigh. He seemed dead but suddenly he opened his eyes and slowly raised his arm.

As the shells landed close by, we stopped and covered him with our body to protect him. I remember his soft voice saying “Guys, take it easy, give me a cigarette.”

I just cannot forget the type of guts and courage our boys had in spite of how badly they were wounded.

For the last ten years, I have been volunteering my time at the DAV doing architectural and Landscaping work.

Most of the volunteers are wounded 100th and 442nd veterans. During our lunch hour and coffee breaks we talk about our combat experiences.

When I go to sleep at night, I get up in the middle of the night with cold sweat remembering the time when we went on the rescue of the Lost Battalion.

In the pitch of total darkness with shells bursting all around, I can still hear the voice calling “Okasan, Okasan” (Mother, Mother) and softly die down. Being so dark we couldn’t get out of the fox hole to help him.

The next morning after searching around in the dense, cold forest, we found him dead in his fox hole.

These events keep coming back in my dreams.