110 degrees magazine - Index

110 degrees magazine - 110° Magazine - July 2007 - Through the gates of Hell - Index

COVER STORY [THROUGH THE GATES OF HELL]
28 www.110mag.com July 2007
Twelve more trials followed that famous first one, but
I had collected enough “points” to come home. On
August 2, 1946, I was discharged from the army.
In May I received a strange call from Texas. An
old newsreel had shown us marching in Rieff,
Germany just after the Battle of the Bulge. We
were marching shoulder-to-shoulder past the
movie camera and 60 years later some alert
researcher identified me as one of the marchers
because at that time I had been the only person
of Asian descent in the unit.
Not much is left of those days when I was fighting
in Europe. I have an iron cross that I took from a
German soldier who was lying in the road and obviously
past the ability to appreciate decorations. Other
than that, I’m mostly just left with my memories.
On the other hand, I might add that those grim
days of bloodshed and death has also left me with a
profound and unceasing gratitude for the life that was
given back to me so many times.
I thank God every day when I awaken. I believe each
day to be a gift to be valued and enjoyed. I’ve tried to
make the most of the life that was given to me and
to experience it to the full on behalf of so many of my
comrades from whom it was so tragically taken when
their life had just barely begun.
There were too many American dead to ship back
to America. Six years ago I visited the grave of sergeant
Philip Rocker, born in Maryland and buried in a cemetery
in the Lorraine country of Germany beside
100,000 other American soldiers.
Now I’m telling my story so that people will remember
what we did. We should never forget all the
Sergeant Rockers and the sacrifices that they made
for their country. “Every day of freedom is a good day
to thank a veteran,” somebody said. And he was right.
I’m lucky to be alive. During the schoolhouse incident
I described, Sergeant Rocker was at a window on
one side of a small room; I was at the window on the
other. I’m sure the sniper could have killed either of us.
That bullet caught him only eight days before the
war in Europe ended. The irony of the thing has
weighed on my heart for these five decades. °