Facing the Mountain: A True Story of Japanese American Heroes in World War II

by Daniel James Brown

Overview

Notes From Your Bookseller

A redefining and compelling history, detailing the brutal and oppressive treatment of Japanese Americans before, during and after WWII, and of the resilient heroism and dignity of those in the internment camps drafted into the US Army to fight the war in Europe. Readers of The Boys in the Boat, know that Daniel James Brown is a probing researcher and a gifted writer, but Facing the Mountain may prove his most stirring and consequential work.

A NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER

“Masterly. An epic story of four Japanese-American families and their sons who volunteered for military service and displayed uncommon heroism… Propulsive and gripping, in part because of Mr. Brown’s ability to make us care deeply about the fates of these individual soldiers...a page-turner.” – Wall Street Journal

“A masterwork of American history that will change the way we look at World War II."—Adam Makos, author of A Higher Call

From the #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Boys in the Boat, a gripping World War II saga of patriotism, highlighting the contributions and sacrifices that Japanese immigrants and their American-born children made for the sake of the nation: the courageous Japanese-American Army unit that overcame brutal odds in Europe; their families, incarcerated back home; and a young man who refused to surrender his constitutional rights, even if it meant imprisonment.

They came from across the continent and Hawaii. Their parents taught them to embrace both their Japanese heritage and the ways of America. They faced bigotry, yet they believed in their bright futures as American citizens. But within days of Pearl Harbor, the FBI was ransacking their houses and locking up their fathers. And within months many would themselves be living behind barbed wire.

Facing the Mountain is an unforgettable chronicle of war-time America and the battlefields of Europe. Based on Daniel James Brown's extensive interviews with the families of the protagonists as well as deep archival research, it portrays the kaleidoscopic journey of four Japanese-American families and their sons, who volunteered for 442nd Regimental Combat Team and were deployed to France, Germany, and Italy, where they were asked to do the near impossible.

But this is more than a war story. Brown also tells the story of these soldiers' parents, immigrants who were forced to shutter the businesses, surrender their homes, and submit to life in concentration camps on U.S. soil. Woven throughout is the chronicle of a brave young man, one of a cadre of patriotic resisters who stood up against their government in defense of their own rights. Whether fighting on battlefields or in courtrooms, these were Americans under unprecedented strain, doing what Americans do best—striving, resisting, pushing back, rising up, standing on principle, laying down their lives, and enduring.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780593414392
Publisher:	Diversified Publishing
Publication date:	06/01/2021
Edition description:	Large Print
Pages:	832
Sales rank:	276,319
Product dimensions:	6.00(w) x 9.20(h) x 1.60(d)

About the Author

Daniel James Brown is the author of The Indifferent Stars Above and Under a Flaming Sky, which was a finalist for the B&N Discover Great New Writers Award, as well as The Boys in the Boat, a New York Times bestselling book that was awarded the ALA’s Andrew Carnegie Medal for Excellence in Nonfiction. He has taught writing at San José State University and Stanford University. He lives outside Seattle.

Read an Excerpt

Just before dawn on the morning of October 18, Fred Shiosaki crawled out of a dank pup tent, strapped a mortar tube on his back, grabbed his rifle, and began to walk toward the battle. With the other two battalions still fighting for control of the hills around town, Colonel Pence had ordered the Third Battalion to make a frontal attack on the German forces in Bruyères, liberate the town, and then advance toward the village of Belmont to the northeast. George “Montana” Oiye hoisted a carbine and fell in alongside Fred. He’d been temporarily assigned to K Company to serve as their forward observer in the event that they needed artillery support from the 522nd while making their assault.
 
 
As K Company spread out, moving through dense stands of pine, the sounds of the battle ahead of them were oddly muffled. A thick gray fog made it hard to see more than a dozen yards in any direction. Fred’s breath issued forth in small white clouds. His footfall was nearly inaudible, softened by thick piles of wet moss on the forest floor. The moss worried Fred. He had been warned that the Germans had hidden hundreds of Bouncing Betty mines in the stuff, and he feared those almost as much as he feared the deadly 88-millimeter shells that he knew might come shrieking at them out of the fog at any minute.
 
 
But when K Company finally emerged from the woods and entered the flatter, more open terrain immediately in front of the town, everything around them seemed to explode. The roar of the battle engulfed them. Fred stumbled forward over muddy furrows in an open field. Bullets whipped by on both sides of him. Incoming shells whistled over his head. Columns of black earth and fractured yellow stone erupted in front of him and behind him.  Wounded horses in a nearby barn screamed. Searing-hot shards of shrapnel flew in all directions, making weird fluttering sounds. The smell of explosives and diesel and mud and blood filled the air.
 
 
Fred and the men near him dropped and began to crawl forward on their bellies as streams of machine gun fire poured from the windows of nearby farmhouses and machine-gun nests hidden behind stone garden walls. But returning the fire, lobbing mortars at the buildings, firing bazookas, and throwing hand grenades, K Company kept moving forward, assaulting each machine-gun nest in turn, concentrating their fire on it until it was silenced, then moving on to the next.
 
On the outskirts of town, they came across a wide bend in a road. Sergeant George Iwamoto, squad leader and one of Fred’s closest friends—a kotonk through and through, a kindred spirit from the east- ern side of Washington State—raised his hand to pause his men and get their attention. He didn’t like the looks of the place. He wanted them out of there as quickly as possible. He stood up, started waving his hands, bellowing, “Come on, you guys, come on!” urging them to cross the road quickly. Fred hunched over and ran for it. He made it across. They all did—except one. Just as Iwamoto began to follow the last of his men across, a shell landed right behind him, hurling him forward a dozen feet, shattering his spine, paralyzing him from the waist down. Seeing his friend there, sprawled out on the road in the rain, bloodied, desperately trying to crawl forward, dragging his legs, helpless, Fred felt suddenly and overwhelmingly sick to his stomach. For a moment, he closed his eyes and slumped against a stone wall. Like everyone else, he wanted to turn and run from this place, from the horror. Like everyone else, he didn’t. A medic dragged Iwamoto off the road. The rest of them got up and moved on.
 
At the entrance to the town itself, they faced a barricade—a road- block built of enormous logs, timbers, and boulders that the Germans had chained together and intertwined with land mines and booby traps in order to block one of Bruyères’s main streets. George Oiye got on a field phone and called up the Fire Direction Center. A few minutes later the 522nd, still several miles to the east, dropped a shell precisely onto the barricade. Gravel and dirt flew in all directions, but the effect was mostly to rearrange the tangle of obstacles into an even more imposing jumble of wood, stone, and explosives. Finally, with German snipers firing on them from nearby houses, engineers from the 442nd’s Combat Engineer Company crept forward, wrapped explosive Primacord around the larger obstacles, and blew them far enough apart to allow men, jeeps, and half-tracks to start snaking their way into the center of the town.
 
Fred advanced cautiously, crouching, running from one doorway to the next as K Company worked its way down a narrow street. Lobbing grenades, knocking down doors, racing to rooftops, clearing houses, the Nisei gradually drove the Germans out of town. By early evening, most of Bruyères was theirs, though occasional German shells and mortar rounds continued to fall in the streets as a furious battle for the high ground raged on just to the east. The streets were littered with the detritus of war—slate roof tiles, bricks, piles of stone and mortar, burned-out vehicles, here and there a dead German in a bloodied gray uniform lying in the street or a charred, contorted corpse sitting in a burned-out half-track. The smell of powder lingered in the air, along with a whiff of singed flesh and death.
 
But then, one by one, Fred noticed flags emerging from upstairs windows—French flags and the Croix de Lorraine, the emblem of the French resistance. The people of Bruyères, peering out from their hiding places, seeing American jeeps and tanks entering the village, began pouring out into the rainy and rubble-strewn streets. Confused at first, seeing Asian faces, they exclaimed, “Chinois! Chinois!” The Nisei, pointing to their uniforms, tried to explain. “No, no, Americans. Japanese Americans!” “Japonais!” The French looked at one another, clearly baffled, but nobody really cared. Young women, old men, children, utter strangers, ran to the men, embraced them, kissed them on both cheeks. Old men brought out bottles of wine and strings of sausages and offered them to their liberators, patting them on the back. Children flocked around the Americans cheering, shouting things in French the men mostly could not understand except for the one word, over and over, “Merci, merci, merci!” Fred dug a chocolate bar out of his kit, broke it into bits, and handed them to the kids.
 
Then he moved on, making his way toward the southwestern side of town, bullets from a sniper up in the hills still occasionally whipping by, ricocheting off stone walls. But the civilians kept coming out. Fred rounded a corner and came upon an old lady grinning, standing in a pile of rubble next to a collapsed soda-pop warehouse, handing bottles of pop to the men as they hurried past. Around another corner a middle-aged woman waved at them and began vigorously sweeping battle debris from the street, even as artillery shells whistled overhead. She swept with such cheerful enthusiasm that to George Oiye it seemed as if she were trying to sweep away the war itself.
 
As evening settled in and the town darkened, the Nisei consolidated their hold on Bruyères, and the mood of the civilians seemed to shift. Fred heard loud, shrill voices. The French began dragging certain people out into the street, mostly women who had consorted with German soldiers, but men, too—anyone who had been too helpful to the Germans. Crowds gathered around. They beat the men, pummeling them with fists and broomsticks. They stripped the women naked, shaved their heads, and then ran them through the streets in the rain, jeering, spitting at them, hurling insults and trash at them—potato peels and rotten vegetables and offal—as the women ducked and dodged and tried desperately to hide their nakedness. Fred watched impassively. This wasn’t for him to judge, he figured.
 
 
 
Over the next few days, K Company left Bruyères behind them and slowly inched deeper into the Vosges itself. At the same time, slightly to the rear of K Company, in the midst of a bloody battle raging on Hill D, F Company’s technical sergeant, Abraham Ohama, walked forward under a white flag, attempting to recover a wounded comrade. German forces, disregarding the flag, opened fire and wounded Ohama. When Nisei litter bearers tried to remove the two wounded men from the field, the Germans opened fire on them as well, killing Ohama as he lay help- less on a stretcher. Seeing this, and infuriated, the men of F Company, nearly two hundred of them, rose spontaneously and charged. They plunged into the German lines so suddenly and unexpectedly that many of the Germans didn’t even have time to return fire. As the Nisei over-whelmed their position, dozens of German boys—some just sixteen or seventeen—cowered in their foxholes, throwing their arms in the air, so scared that the Nisei had to reach down and drag them out in order to take them prisoner. Others fell to their knees, crying, begging for their lives. When it was over, eighty-seven German troops were dead, dozens more wounded.
 
At a railway embankment east of town, K Company and much of the Third Battalion got bogged down for hours, until the 522nd laid down a long, sustained, thundering barrage that went on for twenty straight minutes, pounding the embankment and the ground immediately behind it. For a few moments after the last shell fell, there was dead silence but for the hissing of rainfall. The smells of powder and wet earth drifted over the men. Fred, crouching in a foxhole, peered through the rain and drifting smoke and saw the Germans finally falling away to the east beyond the tracks. K Company rose to their feet and scrambled across what was left of the railroad embankment.
 
Beyond the twisted rails and craters and mounds of scattered gravel, they moved cautiously forward across muddy and heavily mined fields. Approaching some densely wooded hills, K Company’s sergeant James Oura spotted what appeared to be a high-ranking German officer emerging from a line of trees ahead, walking toward them, apparently un- aware of their presence. Motioning his men down, holding his fire until the man was well within range, Oura rose and dropped him with a burst of fire from his BAR. When they got to his body, K Company found maps indicating the disposition of enemy troops throughout the hills in front of them. This was an unexpected windfall, and they needed to capitalize on it quickly. Rudy Tokiwa headed back to the regimental command post at a lope, clutching the maps.
 
Within an hour, Major Emmet O’Connor had studied the captured maps and launched a special task force to take advantage of the intelligence it represented. That night, as the rest of the regiment continued crawling forward, O’Connor and his task force slipped through enemy lines and made their way along a forested ridge well ahead of the Third Battalion’s position. By dawn on October 21, they had outflanked the enemy, circled back, and occupied a vantage point from which they could see a large concentration of German forces in and around a cluster of houses in a clearing, just where the maps had indicated they would be. Crouching in the woods, Lieutenant Al Biondi and George Oiye began quietly calling in coordinates. A few minutes later, the 522nd un-leashed their howitzers—the shells again timed to arrive all at the same moment—and the houses disappeared in an eruption of fire, earth, and smoke. Eighty Germans were killed outright, another sixty wounded. O’Connor’s task force swept down on the astonished survivors from their rear as K and I Companies surged forward from their front. By noon the Nisei had seized the entire sector, taking fifty-four prisoners, the only Germans left alive in the vicinity.
 
As Rudy made his way back to the battalion’s command post to report the successful completion of the maneuver to Pursall, K Company’s medic, James Okubo, stopped him.
 
“Hey, Punch Drunk, when you came through, you see . . . dead Germans out there.”
 
“Yeah.”
 
“You see any of ’em alive?”
 
Rudy shrugged and said, “I don’t know. I never look.”
 
Okubo had been up all night tending to the wounded, but now he wanted to see if there were wounded Germans still out on the field.
 
“Aw, you know I can’t carry a rifle. Will you go with me?”
 
Rudy shrugged again, but he picked up a Thompson submachine gun and led Okubo into the hills. The two men began to sort through a pile of German dead and eventually found one boy who was still alive. Okubo patched him up as best he could, and the two of them carried him back to an American aid station. There, Okubo turned to Rudy and said, “I hope you don’t get mad at me now.”
 
Rudy replied that he was glad they’d helped the boy. But the truth was, it seemed odd to him, after he and his guys had spent so much time trying to kill Germans, to be trying to save one. It wasn’t really that he objected. He just didn’t particularly care one way or another. But it got him to thinking about something he’d pondered more and more, something that had been eating at him ever since he’d shot that German soldier carrying photos of his children his first day in battle. “I wonder,” he thought, “when I get out of this, if I do, whether I’ll be a human being.”
 
That night, exhausted, the young men of K Company tried to hunker down and finally catch some sleep, sliding into slit trenches the Germans had dug or craters left by their own artillery shells. By now both the trenches and the craters were half-full of cold, muddy water, but many of the men were beyond caring about that. They just lay against muddy walls, closed their eyes, and let their feet and legs soak. A few chose to lie out in the open instead, despite the possibility that shells might at any moment begin dropping among them again. Fred lay in one of he trenches, his eyeglasses smeared with mud, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. The worst of it, though, was that his feet ached terribly. He lifted a foot out of the water, pulled off one of his boots and a soggy sock, and noted that the foot was turning an odd shade of purple, the beginnings of trench foot, the slow, agonizing death of the nerves and tissues in his feet.
 
Nobody really slept that night. When morning finally came, gray and wet and cold, they got up and pushed on to the northeast. They were entering increasingly rugged terrain now, steeper hills cloaked in dark forests, advancing into the face of periodic artillery barrages, blistering fire from German tanks mounted with 88s, the howling Nebel-werfer rockets they called screaming meemies, and the growling of German burp guns. For two more days and two more nights, they just kept moving forward, yard by yard, under fire almost continuously, with nothing to eat but cold K rations, nowhere to sleep but in the mud. And still the rain kept falling.
 
By late on October 24, the 442nd had taken control of the villages of Belmont and Biffontaine and pushed the Germans deeper into the Vosges. K Company had now been on the battlefield for seven days and nights. Some units had been out eight days. Finally, that afternoon, as the sun finally broke through, two Texas units—the 141st and 143rd Infantry Regiments—began moving up through the 442nd’s lines to relieve them.

Table of Contents

Foreword xv

Author's Note xix

Prologue 1

Part 1 Shock 7

Part 2 Exile 65

Part 3 Kotonks and Buddhaheads 135

Part 4 A Thousand Stitches 225

Part 5 To the Gates of Hell 321

Part 6 Home 443

Epilogue 463

Acknowledgments 483

Resources 485

Notes 487

Photo Credits 523

Index 525

Editorial Reviews

★ 02/01/2021

Brown (The Boys in the Boat) chronicles in this bravura account the experiences of Japanese American soldiers and their families during WWII. Following the attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, more than 120,000 Japanese Americans living on the West Coast were sent to internment camps for the duration of the war. By 1943, after more than a year of persistent lobbying for the chance to prove their patriotism, draft-age Nisei (those born in the U.S. to Japanese immigrant parents) could volunteer for “a segregated, all-Japanese American fighting unit” in the U.S. Army. Brown details tensions between recruits from the mainland and Hawaii (where Japanese Americans were not interned) during their training in Jim Crow–era Mississippi, and dramatically recounts their rescue of a “lost battalion” of besieged Texas infantrymen in eastern France in October 1944. Drawing from extensive firsthand accounts, Brown interweaves the stories of dozens of Japanese American soldiers with the experiences of their interned families back in the U.S., and tracks legal battles waged by Nisei who refused to sign loyalty oaths or register for the draft because they believed their civil rights had been violated. The result is an illuminating and spirited portrait of courage under fire. Agent: Dorian Karchmar, WME. (May)

Publishers Weekly

One of Slate's "Father’s Day Gifts for Even the Hardest-to-Buy-for Dad"

"The story of the fearless men of the 442nd Regiment feels especially relevant, with Asian Americans once again under attack."—New York Post

“Facing the Mountain is more than just the story of a group of young men whose valor helped save a country that spurned them, it's a fascinating, expertly written look at selfless heroes who emerged from one of the darkest periods of American history — soldiers the likes of which this country may never see again.”—NPR.org
 
“Masterly… An epic story of four Japanese-American families and their sons who volunteered for military service and displayed uncommon heroism and grit to serve their country... propulsive and gripping read… it’s a page-turner—a testament to Mr. Brown’s storytelling gifts.”—Wall Street Journal

“Brown combines history with humanity in a tense, tender and well-researched study of the lives disrupted and disregarded by misperceptions and misinformation. Facing the Mountain is  ‘not a story about victims,’ as Brown writes. Rather, ‘It’s a story of victors, of people striving, resisting, rising up, standing on principle, laying down their lives, enduring and prevailing.”—San Francisco Chronicle

“Facing the Mountain… promises the story of the legendary 442nd Infantry Regiment during World War II. It delivers much more…Daniel James Brown shows us what America looks like to an immigrant or member of an ethnic minority….Brown’s vivid narrative tells a more important story about heroism and sacrifice, one that should be read by anyone who hopes to understand more about ‘the greatest generation’ and American history"—Army Magazine

“This is a masterwork of American history that will change the way we look at World War II. You don’t just read a Daniel James Brown story—you go there. Facing the Mountain is lump-in-the-throat territory, page after page."—Adam Makos, author of A Higher Call
 
"Daniel James Brown has a way of wrapping himself around a big and complicated subject with such subtlety and grace that we don’t at first realize how fast the pages are turning, or how much fascinating material we've absorbed. In Facing the Mountain, all the skills of this master storyteller are once again on display, as he surely leads us to the emotional heart of a fraught and sprawling World War II story most of us knew nothing about." —Hampton Sides, NYT bestselling author of Ghost Soldiers and On Desperate Ground

“The loyal and often heroic service of Japanese American soldiers is one of history’s most inspiring responses to bigotry and oppression.  Daniel James Brown brilliantly pairs these events in an epic of courage and resistance.”—David Laskin, author of The Long Way Home

 “Facing the Mountain proves that the savagery of war isn’t restricted to foreign battlefields. Many went to war - those who remained incarcerated endured the wrath of their fellow countrymen.  It is said that to be an American we should strive to live life worthy of the sacrifices of those who came before us. Our bearing with each other is dependent on it.”
—Lt Col Michael J. Yaguchi, USAF (ret), Commander, Nisei Veterans Committee
 
"Daniel James Brown has done it again.  HIs rich, nuanced recreation of the dark years when thousands of our fellow citizens were incarcerated because of their ancestry is a must-read contribution to the history of the 20th century. It’s also uplifting. I'll never look at the World War II story in the same light."—Timothy Egan, author of The Worst Hard Time
 
“A must-read. You will not be able to put it down.”—Scott Oki, former VP Microsoft, Founder, Densho
 
“Facing the Mountain arrives at the perfect time, to remind us of the true meaning of patriotism. In Daniel James Brown’s gifted hands, these overlooked American heroes are getting the glory they deserve. Read this book and know their stories.”—Mitchell Zuckoff, author of Lost in Shangri-La

“Daniel James Brown brings to life the gripping true story of Japanese Americans whose steely heroism fought Nazism abroad and racism at home.  Bound by Japanese values of filial piety, giri (social obligation) and gaman (endurance) and forged in the crucible of brutal combat, the soldiers served the very country that locked their families in American concentration camps for no crime other than looking like the enemy while camp resisters fought for justice denied.”—Lori L. Matsukawa, News anchor, KING TV, Seattle
 
“This book’s breadth and depth are unparalleled as it poignantly traces the Japanese American thread in the rich fabric of America.  We meet compelling individuals, witness war's horrors and celebrate moments of triumph of the human spirit.  The author vividly describes communities confronting prejudice with resilience and patriotism, surviving and ultimately having the opportunity to thrive.”—Terry Shima, T/4, 442nd Regimental Combat Team

“Riveting. Facing the Mountain is a book that is as much about the present as it is about the past. In it are vital lessons about courage, truth, justice, and an abiding love of country. Drawing on impeccable historic research, the narrative movingly shines the light of history on prejudice and discrimination and the unfinished struggle for a more just future.”—Ann Burroughs, President & CEO,  Japanese American National Museum

“Brown chronicles in this this bravura account the experiences of Japanese American soldiers and their families during WWII. . . . The result is an illuminating and spirited portrait of courage under fire.”—Publishers Weekly, starred review
 
“A deep and richly detailed examination of indelible decisions and events that tarnished the legacy of America's role in WWII, the internment of Japanese Americans. . . . A compelling and impressively redefining work on an often over-simplified and always consequential subject. . . . This should also be read by all who are pondering the true meaning of patriotism.”—Booklist, starred review

From the Publisher

04/01/2021

In coordination with Densho, a Seattle nonprofit organization that preserves oral histories of Japanese Americans imprisoned in the U.S. during World War II, best-selling author Brown (The Boys in the Boat) chronicles the journey of four young men from Hawai'i and the West Coast of the U.S. as they fough for their freedom during the Second World War. Three were involved in action in Italy against the Axis powers, while the fourth engaged in a legal fight on behalf of all those who refused to sign the loyalty oaths forced on Japanese Americans by the U.S. The core narrative of the book follows the achievements of the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, a group of Japanese American soldiers who went to fight in Italy and Germany while their families were forced into concentration camps in the U.S. Brown intersperses them with stories of how the soldiers' families were being treated back in the U.S. He weaves a tapestry that reflects the complicated situations that the U.S. government created for Japanese Americans, and the heroic actions of Japanese Americans both on the frontlines and on the home front. A foreword by Tom Ikeda, executive director of Densho, adds clarity. VERDICT Combining social and military history, Brown's latest book gives readers a heartbreaking picture of all that Japanese Americans sacrificed for their country during World War II.—John Rodzvilla, Emerson Coll., Boston

Library Journal

Louis Ozawa narrates this true story about Japanese-Americans at home and abroad during WWII. There is little dialogue; thus, Ozawa narrates in a slightly different tone, depending on where and when the story is taking place. He modulates between hope and despair with the deftness of a film composer. Furthermore, when words are spoken, Ozawa slips into a Hawaiian, Japanese, or American accent as though he were a native speaker from each region. These heartbreaking stories shine a much needed light on the way those of Japanese heritage were treated during the war, and Ozawa's deft narration makes them even more compelling and hard to forget. A.R.F. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award, 2021 Best Audiobook © AudioFile 2021, Portland, Maine

MAY 2021 - AudioFile

★ 2021-03-03
A deft new account of “one of the most decorated units in American history.”

While the Japanese American 442nd Regimental Combat Team continues to produce admiring histories, this definitive account tells a larger story. Historian Brown notes that Japanese immigrants began arriving in the U.S. in the late 19th century. Despite brutal working conditions and rampant racist discrimination, many prospered. In Hawaii, nearly one-third of which was populated by Japanese Americans in 1941, they suffered less discrimination and developed a more assertive culture and even a distinctive pidgin language. Matters were less hospitable on the mainland, where many state laws forbade noncitizens from owning property. Few readers will fail to squirm at events following Pearl Harbor. In the outrage that followed, most Americans and their leaders assumed that Japanese Americans (but not German or Italian Americans) were potential saboteurs. Declaring a large area of the Pacific coast a Japanese “exclusion zone,” the government removed more than 100,000 Japanese Americans to concentration camps further east. They were forced to leave behind any possessions they couldn’t bring with them, including homes and farms, and most were stolen or occupied and not returned after the war. In 1943, pressed for manpower, the Army formed a volunteer unit that became the 442nd. Despite the legend that young men from the camps rushed to serve, the great majority came from Hawaii. Joining brought few perks, and Brown diligently records the opposition, although activists remained a small minority. Although this is familiar ground, the author delivers a superb description of the unit’s training and unparalleled battlefield achievements. Despite their remarkable accomplishments, returning 442nd soldiers and their families faced the same boycotts, threats, and violence they suffered after Pearl Harbor. Brown does an excellent job capturing this regrettable historical episode, noting how it “would take decades for the country’s leadership to broadly recognize and formally address the wrong that had been done to them.”

An insightful portrait of exceptional heroism amid deeply embedded racism.

Kirkus Reviews