The Purple Heart (41 page)

But that earlier fight
wasn’t nearly as harrowing as the one they had just encountered. Before, they
were always firing from afar, the killing had already been done when they
finally did see Nazis. The 442
^nd
was then ordered to move north to
flush any Nazi positions from the northern towns.

Hiroshi and Akira adjusted
quickly to war. They were true warriors and were aggressive about their mission
objectives. Kenji was no longer the boy that he was when he first arrived at
Camp Shelby. His innocence was a casualty of war. Any initial fears he may have
had were soon conquered by a young man’s instinctive aggressiveness. For Kenji,
the drive to win meant shooting as many Nazis as possible. Kenji’s primal need
to kill was sparked and grew like a silent fire within him. But his false sense
of mental armor masked the fact that he could still become a casualty of war.

Peter, however, still
thought too much about what he was doing. He sometimes second-guessed his own
actions. In battle, when bullets are slicing through the air or blast-propelled
shrapnel is flying, second-guessing becomes even more dangerous. But there was
no doubt that Peter had only the best intentions for his brothers in arms. He
joined the army to fight, and he believed that what he was doing was absolutely
right. But he questioned his ability to perform under pressure. He wasn’t sure
if the other men could sense this, and he didn’t want them to. If they did,
they would forsake him. They needed to be able to rely on him just as he relied
on them, and Peter hoped that their confidence in him would not be tested. He
hoped that any self-doubt that brooded within would fade in time to allow the
hidden warrior to emerge.

Peter had never faced loss.
He had never faced death in any manner in his entire life and now he was thrust
into death’s greatest companion, war.

He feared his own possible
death. A true soldier is one who believes that every battle will be his last,
so that he no longer fears dying. Peter rarely expressed any physical bursts of
rage fueled by vengeance, vindictiveness, or any other dark emotion. He had
never even been in a real fistfight. But whatever lingering self-doubt he may
have, he knew he could at least hold, point, aim and fire his rifle. But would
that be enough?

Peter watched Hiroshi walk
down the steps, followed by Kenji. He turned to look into the room as Akira and
the other soldier searched the pockets of the two dead snipers for intelligence
or possibly for souvenirs. Peter turned away, walked down the steps, and saw
Hiroshi reach the ground floor. Kenji, being his usual excitable self, leapt
over the banister in front of Hiroshi.

“That was pretty gross what
Akira did, wasn’t it, Home Run?” Kenji exclaimed.

“It’s not what we’re
supposed to do, Kenji. What Akira did up there, there was no justification for
it.”

“But we’re here to kill as
many Nazi bastards as possible,” Kenji retorted as he aimed his rifle out into
the street and pretended to shoot off a round.

“Listen, Kenji,” Hiroshi
said. He raised his voice, which caught Kenji’s attention.

“Yes we’re here to kill and
yes, I want to kill as many Nazis as possible. What they’re doing to the Jews
is awful and creating this entire war is even worse. But I still will not
mutilate or torture anyone simply because I feel like it. As much of a hell
that we may be in right now, we have to perform like honorable soldiers. When
we return home, you don’t want to be a worse man coming out than going in. You
don’t want to bring back any unnecessary demons from the war that may haunt you
for the rest of your life. Got it?” asked Hiroshi. Kenji nodded as Peter
listened from the middle of the staircase.

Everything that Hiroshi
said made absolute sense. As much as the men were asked to risk their lives by
killing other men, they didn’t need to sacrifice their own humanity to do so.
They may need to put it aside for a while but ultimately, when they return
home, they will be men again. They should return home as much as the men when
they left, because that’s who their loved ones are waiting for back home. Not
killing soldiers.

Kenji pondered Hiroshi’s
words for a moment. There was a glint of understanding in his still-youthful
eyes as he stared at Hiroshi. For a moment, the soldier within Kenji faded away
and the shameless girl-chasing youth came back. This was who he was, not the
soldier. Kenji admired and respected Hiroshi, and though it wasn’t customary
for soldiers of the same rank to do so, Kenji stood at attention and saluted
Hiroshi. It was something that Hiroshi did not expect. Maybe it was because of
Kenji’s foolish clumsiness, but Hiroshi chuckled and saluted him in turn.

The two soldiers then
laughed. Kenji’s smile showed off his slightly crooked teeth when the gunshot
shattered the silence. Hiroshi looked about for the shooter.

“Home Run,” muttered Kenji.

Hiroshi suddenly turned to
Kenji. His hand was on his chest and blood had started to soak through his
uniform. “I think I’ve been shot,” Kenji said as he tumbled forward into
Hiroshi’s arms.

“No!” shouted Hiroshi as he
caught his fallen friend. His own rifle fell to his side. He gripped Kenji as
he peered over his left shoulder and could see one of the wounded Nazi
soldiers, still lying on his back and pointing a pistol toward them. Another
shot suddenly ran out.

The Nazi soldier’s arm
slumped to the ground as blood wormed out of the bullet hole from his head.
Then another bullet entered his chest, then another until finally five bullets
riddled his chest spewing blood on his uniform. Hiroshi looked up the steps and
saw Peter. His rifle was still aimed at the Nazi as smoke slowly drifted from
its muzzle. He seemed motionless as he stood there but when he turned to look
at Hiroshi, there was something unfamiliar in his eyes: It was rage.

Hiroshi carefully brought
Kenji down and laid him onto his back. Peter rushed down the steps as Akira followed,
to see Kenji on the floor with his chest bloodied.

“Kenji, hang in there,”
said Hiroshi reassuringly. He took off Kenji’s helmet as a trickle of blood
oozed from the side of his mouth. But there was a strange calm look on Kenji’s
face.

Peter knelt down alongside
Kenji and took off his own helmet as he reached for his medical pack. Peter
told Akira what had happened, and this sent his temper flaring as he rushed to
every single fallen Nazi soldier and put a couple of bullets into their heads
to guarantee their death.

Hiroshi frantically removed
the gear from around Kenji’s chest and then ripped open his shirt, which
revealed a bloody mess. The bullet had exited his chest and lodged itself in
one of the magazine clips strapped to his chest. This was probably what saved
Hiroshi’s life.

“Kenji, look at me,” urged
Hiroshi as he took a bandage from Peter and applied pressure to Kenji’s chest.
It was soaking up blood way too fast, so Hiroshi reached for his own medical
pack as well. Kenji was bleeding profusely from the inside, and Hiroshi didn’t
know what horrible damage that single bullet had done.

“Home Run,” muttered Kenji
as he fixed his eyes on Hiroshi. His body was shivering as he lay there.

“Don’t talk, Kenji, you’re
going to be fine.” Hiroshi knew he was lying.

“Home Run, I need you to…”
Kenji paused as his throat started to fill with blood, preventing him from
speaking clearly. But he continued, “…tell my parents I love them.”

“You can tell them
yourself, Kenji and…” said Hiroshi just when Kenji found some unknown strength
to grip onto Hiroshi’s right hand.

Hiroshi was startled, but
held onto Kenji’s hand firmly and looked down into his eyes.

“Was I a good soldier?”
asked Kenji.

“Yes, you’re a great
American soldier,” said Hiroshi.

Kenji’s eyes rolled back for
a moment but then came back to focus on Hiroshi, who had placed his left hand
on his forehead. His coarse black hair was matted down, but his smooth skin
revealed his youth. There was grave concern on Hiroshi’s face as Peter applied
pressure to Kenji’s wound. But the blood was pouring out from his entry wound
as well and started to soak the floor that Kenji was lying on. Still, he found
the strength to continue speaking.

“Miho is pretty cute, isn’t
she?”

Hiroshi was a bit puzzled
by Kenji’s question, but he smiled back at Kenji and said, “She is, and you’ll
see her again.”

“If I marry her, we can be
like brothers, right?” asked Kenji.

“Yes, we can be like
brothers, Kenji, you and I.”

“Tell Miho…” Kenji paused
as his breathing became shallow. “Tell Miho, she’s the cutest girl I’ve ever
seen,” he whispered as his crooked smile faded away forever.

Losing Kenji was difficult
for the men, especially Hiroshi. When Kenji died, Hiroshi held him in his arms
and wept. Peter stood over the two as tears welled up in his eyes. Akira
expressed his grief by tossing things around to suppress his own tears. The
four men had started out together, but they wouldn’t finish it together.

When the medics arrived,
they unsuccessfully tried to pry Hiroshi’s arms from around Kenji. Akira yelled
at the medics to leave Hiroshi alone. It was unexpected, but Akira was actually
protecting Hiroshi. In that odd moment, he expressed a sense of loyalty that
only a soldier could express to another: Allowing a fellow soldier to mourn the
death of one of their own in their own way. Peter sat silently but did nothing
to rush Hiroshi as he slowly rocked Kenji’s body back and forth. When Hiroshi
finally let go, his arms and his entire uniform were drenched in Kenji’s blood.
The amount of blood that had seeped out of Kenji was incredible.

Hiroshi carried Kenji’s
body all the way back to the staging point and handed Kenji over to the medics.
He told them that Kenji’s older brother was in the other company and that he
should be notified immediately.

But he was soon to learn
that Kenji’s older brother was also killed that very day. Their parents would
be devastated to learn that both of their sons were now gone forever.

Later that night, Hiroshi,
Peter, and Akira were dug in along a ridge with the rest of the soldiers. They
had a small fire going as embers drifted away into the dark night. Their
sleeping mats were rolled out as artillery fire could be heard off in the
distance like low thunder. Other soldiers had set up their own little camps
along the ridge as well, and light chatter could be heard like orphaned
whispers in the wind.

Hiroshi was sitting up
against a tree with his knees pulled up to his chest. He couldn’t eat as he
brooded over Kenji’s death. Peter was sitting by the fire, staring into the
dancing orange and reddish flames, mesmerized by their silent requiem. Akira
had his back turned to the two of them and stared off into the darkness that
lay over the hills as he smoked a cigarette.

The silence was finally
broken when Akira spoke up, “He was a good kid.”

No one responded.

“It’s a real shame that his
brother was also killed,” said Akira.

Again, another round of
silence hung in the air as the fire crackled.

Akira let out another
stream of smoke from his mouth and then turned his head toward Hiroshi. “At
least I won’t have to hear him say ‘Home Run’ anymore.”

Hiroshi looked up and
responded tersely, “What do you mean by that?”

Akira was silent for a
moment and then just turned away.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!”
yelled Hiroshi.

Akira turned his head back,
“Nothing, just forget I said that. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“No, I’m not going to leave
anything! Kenji’s dead, so I’m asking for him, what did you mean by that?”

Akira just gave Hiroshi an
annoyed look and shook his head back and forth as he turned away from Hiroshi.
He brought the cigarette back to his mouth and took a drag on it when Hiroshi
shoved him from behind causing him to swallow the smoke. Akira flew forward
onto his stomach as he violently coughed up puffs of smoke as Hiroshi stood
over him with burning eyes.

Peter quickly got up and
placed his left arm in front of Hiroshi. He was no match for Hiroshi, but he
had to appeal to his sense of reason.

“Hiroshi! Stop it man,
we’re all upset about Kenji. Sometimes we don’t say the right things when we’re
upset,” said Peter.

Hiroshi looked down at
Peter and gave in to Peter’s good sense when Akira lunged and wrapped his
strong arms around Hiroshi’s waist. Hiroshi was sent backwards with Akira right
on top of him. Before Hiroshi could prevent it, Akira struck Hiroshi across his
left cheek.

“Don’t you ever do that
again!” warned Akira.

Hiroshi turned his head
back and there was rage in Hiroshi’s eyes as the fire glistened faintly in his
pupils. Akira was about to punch Hiroshi again when Hiroshi brought his left
leg around and wrapped it around Akira’s chest and pulled him off of him
sending Akira backwards. Hiroshi stood up when suddenly Peter intervened again
and held his hand up at Akira who stood up as well.

“What are you guys doing?
We’re not supposed to be fighting each other!” Peter yelled as he glared at
each of them.

Hiroshi and Akira were
standing in offensive stances and looked ready to kill one another. They stared
each other down in those tense moments when Peter spoke again.

“Stop it! The two of you!
Kenji would not have wanted this!” exclaimed Peter.

Peter was right. Kenji
would not have wanted to see Hiroshi, his hero, fighting Akira no matter how
rude or foul-mannered he was. Hiroshi relaxed and let his shoulders drop as he
diverted his gaze from Akira and looked downward. Akira also relented and spun
around as he let out a heavy sigh of deep frustration. He then turned around
once more and spoke.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Hiroshi.
I didn’t mean that. I just feel for the kid and me and my big mouth fucked it
up again.”

“I overreacted. It’s my
fault too. I just needed someone to take it out on and you were just asking for
it.”

There was an awkward moment
of silence until Akira asked, “I guess I should be fucking flattered?”

Hiroshi let out a chuckle
and said, “Yeah, take it any way you want to. I’m sorry, man.” Hiroshi extended
his hand out to Akira.

Akira gave out a sigh,
stepped forward and took Hiroshi’s hand and stepped in to give Hiroshi a solid
hug as he patted Hiroshi’s back with his clenched fist. That’s when Peter
looked over at them with one eyebrow raised and said, “Uh, I’m not quite sure how
Kenji would react to seeing what I’m seeing right now guys.”

Akira and Hiroshi stepped
back away from one another and looked at Peter. They both laughed and pulled
Peter in for a manly hug as they dug their knuckles into Peter’s ribs.

The three men soon found
themselves sitting around the fire, letting the warmth brew in front of them.

“So, what was Kenji like
back at the camp?” asked Peter.

“Hmm… well you saw how he
was when he first came to Camp Shelby. He was a skinny lanky kid who was always
joking around. A bit clumsy, but he was fun to have around.” Hiroshi chuckled
and added, “And he especially liked flirting with the girls. Always found
something funny to say, or maybe he just said a lot of stupid things.”

“Yeah, ever notice how he
always didn’t know what was going on?” said Akira.

The men let out a laugh as
they agreed with one another.

“But he was a smart kid,
though. Fast and really hyper,” said Akira.

“Those were the good old
days. What I wouldn’t do to be twenty all over again,” said Peter.

“Lots of twenty-year-olds
and younger in the 442
^nd
,” said Akira with a hint of resentment.

“I was supposed to watch
out for him,” said Hiroshi.

There was a moment of
silence until Peter responded, “You can’t blame yourself, Hiroshi. It wasn’t
your fault.”

Hiroshi didn’t answer.

“Yeah Hiroshi, Peter’s
right. It wasn’t your fault,” said Akira as he tossed a twig into the flames.
“He’s a casualty of war.”

“He’s not a casualty of
war!” exclaimed Hiroshi but quickly added, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.”

“No problem,” said Akira as
he stared into the flames.

“I just thought I could
protect him. Place him behind me away from all the danger,” said Hiroshi. “He
had a whole life in front of him but when he died, all he wanted me to do was
to tell Miho how cute she is.”

“Miho, that’s your wife’s
sister?” asked Peter. “If Miho is half as good looking as your wife, then I
don’t blame him for saying that.”

“Hell if I’m going to die,
I would want a pretty girl in my mind for my last thought!” said Akira.

The men let out a laugh.
Hiroshi immediately thought of Minami as Peter thought of his girlfriend
Noriko.

“So how about you, Akira.
You never mentioned if you had a girl back home,” asked Hiroshi.

Akira stirred the dirt in
the ground and flicked it toward the fire. “No, there isn’t any girl for me.
I’m not the steady boyfriend type, if you couldn’t already tell.”

“No really?” said Peter
sarcastically.

Akira flicked some dirt in
Peter’s direction and the men laughed once more.

“Hey did you guys hear
about the 100
^th
?” asked Akira.

“No what did you hear?”
asked Peter.

“Seems like when we arrived
here in Italy, it wasn’t none too soon. The 100
^th
was down to about
530 men and that was after we had already sent about 500 men out of Camp
Shelby.”

“530 men? That’s all that
was left of them when we arrived? Didn’t they start off with like 1,000 men or
something?”

“Fuck yes, seems like the
army have been using us Japanese Americans like cannon fodder, as if we’re
fucking expendable or something. Did you hear about Cassino?” asked Akira.

Hiroshi looked up as Peter
replied, “Sure, about how they almost took the entire position themselves?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t hear
that the general sent in the 100
^th
without any support and let them
fight non-stop for days even though they were taking heavy losses. Do you
fucking think they would let a white battalion endure that much loss? And when
the dumbass general conceded that the position couldn’t be taken, he pulled
back the 100
^th
. They later took Cassino with five fresh divisions
and an aerial bombardment.”

Akira’s frustrated tone set
in and he continued. “Have you noticed they’ve worked us nonstop and given us
all the shit jobs? The ones that are too dangerous for the white regiments. Damn,
I thought I was coming over here to fight a war, not to be sacrificed because
the white man couldn’t face the problem.”

“You don’t really think
that, do you?” asked Peter.

“Hell yeah, I do! Did you
know that battalions that suffer extensive losses are usually pulled back to
preserve them? How can you explain the 100
^th
losing more than 50
percent of their troops? Twice! That’s not preserving them, that’s sacrificing
them, and it’s all because we’re Japanese. Yeah, they feel that while they are
killing the Japanese over in the Pacific, why not kill the Japanese Americans
too while they fight for America? Fuck, one less Jap the better,” said Akira
vociferously.

“It’s not true,” said
Hiroshi. “We just fight harder because we’re also trying to prove that we’re
Americans so that our families can be free at home. We have more to fight for.”

Akira rolled his eyes and
then settled them back down onto Hiroshi. “Wake up man! The white generals
don’t care. We can fight as hard as we want but as long as we fight the white
man’s battles without sacrificing their fine white boys, they’ll be happy.
Shit, we Japanese Americans are sometimes really dumb. We volunteered to fight
the white man’s war, a war that they didn’t even want. And the fucking ironic
thing is that it took the Japanese to get the white man in America to fight.
How fucking ironic!”

“Whatever, Akira. There’s
nothing that we can do about it. We just have to do the best we can and stay
alive,” said Hiroshi.

“Yeah, I’ll agree with you
about staying alive,” replied Akira. “But no matter how you look at it, we’re
fucked and it’s only the beginning of the worse.”

A silence fell over the
three as they looked into the fire. There was a dark foreboding to Akira’s
words. Akira wasn’t alone. There had been such talk throughout the 442
^nd
ever since the 100
^th
was attached to them. But Akira voiced the
concerns of many whom may have been hesitant to speak up about what seemed to
be the callous deployment of the 442
^nd
against enemy positions that
should have required more military support.

“I’m going to hit the sack.
Who knows what mission we will be in next,” said Akira as he got up. He tossed
the twig that he was twiddling with into the fire and walked over to his
sleeping mat.

“Good night,” said Peter
quietly. “I’m going to sleep too. I’ll see you in the morning, Hiroshi.”

“Sure thing,” said Hiroshi
as he watched Peter get up and turn away toward his sleeping mat.

Hiroshi continued to watch
the fire as he pondered what Akira said. Maybe if his company had been sent
into Sesseta with more support, Kenji would be alive. But that was merely
assigning blame. Kenji was gone, and there was nothing that he could do about
it.

Hiroshi rose up, walked
quietly over to his sleeping mat, and pulled up his knapsack. He rummaged
inside, pulled out a small notepad, and settled by the fire. He placed the
notepad on his knee and gathered his thoughts. He only had the chance to write
one letter since arriving on the front line, and he wasn’t even sure if Minami
had received it yet. But instead of waiting for a response, he decided to write
another letter. He had to.