The Purple Heart

by Vincent Yee

  Peter gave Kenji an annoyed look and continued, “I’m just saying, I’m not sure if it was wise to go up against the sergeant like that. He’s our commanding officer.”

  “Well, what did you expect him to do? Not fight back and let those guys simply demonstrate their so-called combat tactics?” said Akira from the front of the line.

  “He’s our commanding officer!” shouted Peter.

  “Hey! We did them a favor by showing them what the white boys may be up against if they were to fight against the Japanese troops, hand to hand. I say, America better stick with their artillery, tanks, ships, airplanes, and bombs. Shit, white boys couldn’t fight with their hands even if they had eight of them.”

  Kenji laughed out loud, and Peter turned away irritated.

  “You showed them white boys, Hiroshi. I wished the sarge called me up, I would have showed them as well,” said Akira as he slapped Hiroshi on the back.

  Hiroshi turned to look at Akira. He wasn’t sure if he liked Akira. There was something about his personality that bothered Hiroshi, but at that moment, he nodded toward Akira and with a grin said, “They were pretty bad weren’t they?”

  Akira let out a laugh and then pointed to Hiroshi’s right.

  “Hey, look at the sarge’s table,” said Akira discreetly.

  Hiroshi turned to his right and saw the drill sergeant eating his lunch along with the other sergeants. Many of them had some bruising on their faces and some even had bandages. Some were wincing with every bite.

  Hiroshi looked back at Akira with a grin. “Looks like our brotherly soldiers showed them that we’re tougher than we look,” Akira blurted out. “Maybe we’ll get a little more respect around here now,” he said as the mushy food plopped onto his tray.

  “Maybe, maybe…” said Hiroshi as he held out his tray.

  The four men sat at their table. There was quiet chattering among the other soldiers about how the white soldiers who were supposed to teach combat training should have taken self-defense lessons instead. For a little while, the morale of the troops was boosted.

  Hiroshi, Peter, Kenji, and Akira were about finished with their lunch when they heard the drill sergeant’s black boots step up to their end of the table. The four men looked up as he stammered, “Private Satoh, come with me now.”

  Hiroshi quickly stood up “Yes, Sir.”

  The drill sergeant turned around and marched toward the exit with Hiroshi close behind. There was a shared moment of silent concern as Peter, Kenji and Akira kept their gaze on Hiroshi as he walked away.

  Hiroshi stepped into the bright, warm sunlight that bore down on the camp. He squinted momentarily and caught the drill sergeant disappearing around the corner of the barrack. Hiroshi quickened his step and followed him. As he turned the corner, Hiroshi caught the sight of a fist coming straight at his face. Hiroshi reacted instinctively and deflected the punch with his right hand while ducking. Hiroshi assumed a defensive posture as the drill sergeant pulled back his fist. The two men stood face to face, looking ready to brawl. Hiroshi wasn't sure if the drill sergeant wanted to get back at him for unintentionally embarrassing him in front of the troops. The two men kept their stare at one another until finally the drill sergeant relaxed his stance.

  "At ease, Private Satoh," the drill sergeant said calmly.

  Hiroshi relaxed his posture, brought his hands together behind him, and spaced his feet apart. The drill sergeant stood there, seemingly unmovable. The grayish brown hair on his forearms glistened lightly from the sun's rays. His eyes were hard to see from the shadow caused by the brim of his hat. But Hiroshi sensed a change in his demeanor.

  "Private Satoh, what you did today was absolutely the best demonstration of combat skill I have ever seen," said the drill sergeant firmly.

  "Thank you, Sir," responded Hiroshi.

  "I was told by many of the other sergeants who trained the 100th Battalion, the other Japanese American battalion, that they were all taught a lesson in humility by their troops. Some of the other sergeants who did not ship out with the 100th conveniently neglected to tell me of this thing called karate. They thought I would get a kick out of it. Needless to say, Private Satoh, you spared me the brunt of the embarrassment, but I can't say the same for Stevens and Donovan."

  "My apologies, Sir, I didn't mean to hurt them…" replied Hiroshi before he was cut off.

  "Private, there are no apologies in the army and especially none in combat. Is that understood?"

  "Yes, Sir!" replied Hiroshi affirmatively.

  "Private, let me ask you a question," the drill sergeant paused. "Why are you here?"

  "To fight for my country," said Hiroshi firmly and confidently.

  "Spare me the fucking propaganda, Private, and tell me why you are here," asked the drill sergeant sternly.

  Hiroshi paused for a moment and then asked, "Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

  "Granted."

  Hiroshi took another pause, gathered his thoughts and spoke, "To fight for my home, Sir, and to prove to everyone that Japanese Americans are just as patriotic as any other Americans."

  "But you're Japanese," said the drill sergeant.

  "Beg your pardon, Sir, Japanese American," said Hiroshi respectfully.

  "Whatever," said the drill sergeant dismissively.

  "No Sir, not ‘whatever,’" Hiroshi replied firmly.

  The sergeant then stared at Hiroshi, pondering how Hiroshi just corrected him. "Okay, Private, why is it so important that you want to believe you're an American?"

  "Sir, may I ask you a question?" asked Hiroshi.

  "By all means."

  "Would ‘home’ be the place you live in, where you are married and raise a family, Sir?" asked Hiroshi.

  "Of course," replied the drill sergeant.

  "And would you not defend that home no matter what?" asked Hiroshi.

  "Certainly."

  "And would you defend that home against people who may just happen to look like you, like the British in the Revolutionary War. In that case, white?" asked Hiroshi.

  "I believe so," said the drill sergeant.

  "Then I'm defending my home against an enemy who just happen to look like me," said Hiroshi.

  The drill sergeant was silent and took a moment to think about Hiroshi's arguments. "But we're fighting the Japanese, Private."

  Hiroshi quickly interjected, "Sir, I would be hard pressed to tell you the difference between a German, an Italian, and an Englishman. As far as I'm concerned, you're all white."

  The drill sergeant paused once more, "Fair point, Private. So what you're telling me then, is that America is your home and that because it is, you would defend it no matter what?"

  "That's what I'm saying, Sir."

  "Well Private, I'm still thinking about your arguments but I'm starting to understand… maybe, and this is a strong maybe. Maybe I just need to be a bit more open-minded."

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Private Satoh, remind the men that afternoon training starts promptly at thirteen hundred hours. You're now dismissed," said the drill sergeant.

  "Yes, Sir," said Hiroshi. It was customary to salute a senior officer and for the most part, Hiroshi did so out of protocol. But the conversation that Hiroshi just had with the drill sergeant was different and for a moment, he felt that the drill sergeant was talking to him as a fellow soldier and not as the enemy. He then saluted the drill sergeant with a bit more respect.

  The drill sergeant looked at the young soldier, who stood lean and tall. The last few weeks had definitely honed his physique. The face of the Japanese American soldier stared back at him and gave him a sense of respect that he could feel. Strength definitely emanated from the soldier. More importantly, the drill sergeant was beginning to feel the walls of suspicion fall away. He then saluted the soldier, looked into his eyes and for the first time, recognized patriotism.

  Later that evening, Hiroshi returned to his barrack with Peter alongside him. Hiroshi was walking steadily, with his shirt u
ntucked and unbuttoned. Peter was shirtless and had his T-shirt thrown over his left shoulder. Peter's skin had tanned well under the Mississippi sun. There was also more confidence in Peter's stride and perhaps the military training was actually doing his self-esteem some good.

  The two men were chatting amongst themselves as they turned to face their beds when an expression of surprise appeared on Hiroshi’s face. His eyes focused on a white envelope tucked underneath his pillow.

  "What is it?" asked Peter.

  Hiroshi walked to his pillow and for a moment ignored Peter and then responded, "I think it's a letter from my wife."

  Hiroshi carefully picked up the envelope with some anxiety. He had been waiting for almost three weeks for a response from Minami. In that time, many scenarios played out in his head: had he addressed it correctly? Did the mailman know how to find the prison camp in the middle of desert? Or far worse, had something happened to Minami and he just didn't know? He was looking at the back of the envelope and turned it over to see Minami’s familiar handwriting. A smile crept over his face.

  "Well, is it from her?" inquired Peter.

  "Yes, it's from her," Hiroshi replied as he stared down at it.

  "You know, she didn't just send you an envelope. There's probably a letter in there that she'd want you to read. Just because you seal it, doesn't mean it doesn't want to be opened, you know," said Peter sarcastically as he sat down on his bed.

  Hiroshi chuckled, nodded his head, and brushed away his nervousness as he began to open the letter excitedly. As he sat down on his bed, he unfolded the letter and smiled when he saw a black and white photo of Minami. He took the photo by the bottom corner and turned it upright to see his beautiful wife staring back at him. Her head was slightly tilted to her right and she was smiling. Her hair was properly primped and its sheen softly reflected in the light. She wore a dress with a ruffled, jeweled neckline and she was looking back at him with her wondrous eyes.

  "Is that your wife?" asked Peter who was staring at the back of the photo.

  Hiroshi straightened up a bit, smiled proudly at Peter and handed the photo to him. Peter carefully took the photo and his eyes lit up when he turned it over to see Hiroshi's wife for the first time.

  "Wow, she's absolutely beautiful! You're one lucky man. My girlfriend isn't as pretty, but she really cares about me," said Peter.

  "That's all that matters, Peter, a woman who cares about you."

  Peter didn't respond as he selfishly took another look at Minami’s picture. "Yeah, but looks don't hurt either."

  Hiroshi laughed lightly and bent his head down as he began to read the letter to himself.

  "Well don't keep me waiting, what does it say?" prodded Peter.

  Hiroshi smiled. "Okay, I'll just summarize it for you. She starts off by saying how good it was to get my letter, then she says how much she misses me. The next paragraph tells me that my parents are doing fine as well as her family. Oh, she tells me that her sister, Miho, is going to write a letter to Kenji. She thinks Miho may actually have a crush on Kenji. She goes on to tell me how she finds it such a coincidence that Kenji is with me, like I'm supposed to be watching him."

  Hiroshi flipped to the second page and reads a few sentences to himself and continued to summarize for Peter's benefit, "She then talks about her students… oh she teaches school at the camp. She mentions about seeing me for the last time at the camp and how she wanted to tell me so much more and…" An abrupt silence fell over Hiroshi as he read the last few sentences of the letter. His eyes widened as they darted back and forth more quickly.

  "And?" asked Peter anxiously.

  Hiroshi looked up at Peter, who saw shock on his face. His eyes were wide open and his mouth was slightly ajar. Peter looked up attentively, awaiting whatever news his friend was about to blurt out. An uncomfortable moment of silence passed. Peter was thinking that something terrible had happened back at the prison camp.

  "She's pregnant," said Hiroshi, stunned.

  Another moment passed as Peter absorbed the news. "Are you sure?"

  Hiroshi looked down at the letter and read the last sentence of the letter out loud, "Hiroshi, I'm pregnant." Hiroshi looked back up at Peter and stammered, "I think she's pretty damn sure."

  "Hiroshi, are you okay? Most men would be happy if they found out that they were going to be a father."

  Hiroshi’s senses slowly came back and he focused his gaze on Peter.

  "Oh shit, I'm going to be a father! I'm pregnant, no I mean she's pregnant. But oh my God, I'm here and she's over there. Oh my God, and I'm going off to war…"

  Peter reached over and grabbed his friend's trembling shoulders, steadied him and brought his eyes back to his.

  "Hiroshi! It's okay, it happens all the time. Women getting pregnant, they’re biologically predisposed to become pregnant. You're just going to be a father like millions of other men in America," said Peter as he smiled reassuringly.

  Hiroshi calmed down. It wasn't like him to react so emotionally but he never had a similar life experience that he could compare this to. Though he’d seen a few of the horses on his parents' farm give birth, this was something entirely different. Minami was bearing his child, which was not something he’d expected yet.

  "Besides, she's doing all the work, not you," continued Peter with a chuckle.

  Hiroshi laughed softly as his senses returned. His shock suddenly gave way to a swelling sense of pride and inner warmth he could not explain. The realization was that his beautiful wife was pregnant and he would return home to a family.

  "My God, I'm going to be a father," said Hiroshi with a hint of joy.

  "Congratulations," said Peter as he extended his hand to his friend. Hiroshi took his friend’s hand and offered his thanks. Peter took one more look at Minami's picture and then handed it back. "Well you know, you should write back. I'm sure she'd want to hear how you were at a loss for words and almost keeled over in shock."

  "Hey now, that won't be necessary. But you're right, I should write back immediately," said Hiroshi as he reached into his footlocker for his notepad.

  "Well, I'm going to take a shower. Boy, I hope that when I get my letter from my girlfriend she doesn't tell me she's pregnant. I'd be quite unhappy," said Peter as he gathered his toiletries and bath towel.

  "Wouldn't you be happy if you were going to be a father as well?" asked Hiroshi.

  "Sure but the thing is, we haven't had sex yet," said Peter with a smirk.

  Hiroshi burst out laughing as Peter walked away.

  Hiroshi took the chance to read the letter once more and glanced down at Minami's picture. He gathered his thoughts and began to write.

  Dear Minami,

  I received your letter today and I can't tell you how excited I was to open it. It was just such a good feeling to know that you wrote back. I have to admit, I was not prepared to read the last sentence. You're really pregnant? I guess you would know better than I.

  But just thinking about you being pregnant with our baby fills me with such an unexpected sense of happiness, which I've never felt before. Though of course, I've never been married before so my first time at such happiness would be with you.

  I also feel so proud and right now, I wish I were there with you. I don't know how I would have felt if you had told me on that day that you were pregnant. Would I have stayed? I'm not sure, but I think I would have probably at least hesitated.

  But then I think about the baby, I’m angry that you will be forced to give birth to our baby behind barbed wire. Our baby deserves so much better than that. Then I think that I should be here, not only to fight for our freedom but also for our baby's freedom.

  So the more I think about it, I think my decision was right. I promise to fight my hardest to come back to you and our baby. Did the doctor mention when the baby will be due?

  I'm still somewhat in shock, but it's a good kind of shock. This really gives me everything to fight for. I will be home soon to your awaiting arms and to o
ur baby. I miss you so dearly and thank you for the picture. I will look at it every day.

  Please tell everyone I miss them and that I'm thinking about them. I hope to hear from you soon and more news about your pregnancy. Please take care of yourself.

  Lovingly yours,

  Hiroshi

  T W E N T Y O N E

  Hiroshi spent the next few months training vigorously alongside with his troops. He had made many friends among the troops but his closest friends were Peter, Kenji, and reluctantly, even Akira. Kenji always pumped up Hiroshi's reputation by retelling the story of Hiroshi's baseball game, which had earned him the nickname “Home Run.” The story of Hiroshi's combat drill with the drill sergeant and his two men gave Kenji more ammunition to build up Hiroshi's reputation. Kenji felt great pride being associated with Hiroshi, who had become his hero.

  Akira, on the other hand, was resentful of all the attention that Hiroshi had gotten. Each time their company was passing another in opposing marching formation, Akira could feel the stares of curiosity from the other men. The company came to be known as Home Run's company, and he hated the fact that whenever he tried to gloat about something he’d done, other soldiers asked, "You're in Home Run’s company, aren't you?"

  Akira did have a great deal of respect for Hiroshi, but a dangerous resentment festered inside of him. He and Hiroshi were equally matched physically, but that was the only similarity. Akira was more outspoken and brash, while Hiroshi was more tempered and proper. Since that day they had raced together, they kept their rivalry civil. Even when Akira goaded Hiroshi, he didn't reciprocate. Hiroshi was Akira's only real competition in the training camp, and Akira resented being in his shadow.

  They endured a hot and humid summer. But the adversity of the Mississippi summer weather only made the men tougher. The gear that they were forced to carry during training became a part of them instead of a burden. The obstacle course was no longer an obstacle course. The troops were trained further in the use of weapons and their maintenance, and Hiroshi and Akira had the fastest times both disassembling and reassembling their rifles. Along with a few other select troops, Hiroshi and Akira actually took over the combat training and many other white officers eagerly became students.