The Purple Heart (35 page)

“This is no summer camp! I
want each and every one of you outside by oh-six-hundred hours, or there will
be hell to pay!” yelled the drill sergeant. He stormed out of the barrack,
followed by the two other soldiers.

Hiroshi sat up in his bed
as Peter, to his right, covered his eyes with his right arm and moaned. Kenji’s
bed was directly in front of Hiroshi’s, and he sat crossed-legged on the bed
with his tired face in his hands. Hiroshi caught Akira staring at him, eyebrows
furrowed with a stern look as he said, “This is only the beginning.”

The men speedily got out of
bed and got dressed in their standard olive drab uniforms and their black
boots. The drill sergeant stood impatiently outside, waiting for the Japanese
American soldiers to file out with the two soldiers standing silently behind
him. He eyed each person who came out of the door, assessing and mentally
judging each by his body language. But when Hiroshi stepped out, lean and
confident, his eyes gleamed.

Finally, all the soldiers
were all assembled in a silent four-row formation. Hiroshi was on the left with
Peter to his left. Akira and Kenji stood directly behind them respectively. The
drill sergeant took a couple of steps forward and slowly marched up the line
away from Hiroshi. He studied each soldier. They did not flinch from their
forward gaze. When he reached the end, he slowly turned, extending his stare on
the last soldier for as long as possible and then proceeded down the line until
he reached Hiroshi. The drill sergeant stepped directly in front of Hiroshi and
stared into his brown eyes. Hiroshi respectfully stared back, never letting
down his gaze from the drill sergeant’s grayish-blue eyes.

The drill sergeant leaned
slowly forward to intimidate Hiroshi. But he stood his ground, with his
shoulders square and his back tall and erect. Hiroshi wasn’t intimidated at all
but he did find the drill sergeant’s hot breath repulsive and suddenly lost his
appetite for breakfast. The drill sergeant was satisfied with his deep
inspection of Hiroshi and leaned back with a low grunt.

“Soldiers, today is the
first day of hell,” said the drill sergeant in a low deliberate tone. “We will
begin training you and getting you into physical shape because frankly, some of
you need it. And for those who can’t hack it, you can cry all the way back home
for all I care.”

“We will start off with a
little three-mile run. Those who can’t finish this little sissy run will have
to answer to me! Is that understood?” demanded the drill sergeant.

“Yes, Sir!” answered the
men in bold unison.

“All right then, let’s
separate the men from the ladies! Let’s go for a run!” he yelled.

Upon command, the men
turned to their right, and with the drill sergeant at their side, they began
their first run. The men kept up a steady pace until the second mile when some
of the men began struggling for breath and slowly started to fall behind. The clean
four-line formation that had started out at the beginning of the run started to
fall apart. But the men were all determined and though they were physically
tired, their will was not. Hiroshi and Akira were firmly in the lead as they
kept up with one another.

It was bound to happen–the
competition between Hiroshi and Akira was starting to kindle. Their
personalities clashed. Akira had a competitive streak laced with cockiness and
arrogance. His ego didn’t make room for other men. As far as Akira was concerned,
he was the only man. Hiroshi also had a competitive spirit, but it was a humble
one. Hiroshi knew in himself what he could do and when circumstances called for
it, he would perform to the best of his ability to achieve his objective.

Akira started to pick up
the pace on the last stretch back to the barrack. Right then and there, it was
about two men. A natural competition brewed with each step as both of their
egos began to take over their common sense.

Hiroshi and Akira were neck
in neck. Akira looked over and Hiroshi looked back at him. They breathed
steadily, but sweat had started to drip from the top of their heads and down
the sides of their face. The barrack was in sight, and Akira motioned with his
eyes toward the barrack. Hiroshi shook his head. Akira gave a faint smile and
his eyes gleamed as he suddenly bolted ahead. Hiroshi’s immediate response was
to ignore him, but the competitive spirit suddenly gripped Hiroshi. Without
thinking things through, Hiroshi sprinted after Akira.

Akira was already ahead,
but Hiroshi surprisingly caught up. When Akira saw Hiroshi on his right, he
smiled. His expression focused on the barrack ahead as he ran harder, pulling
ahead of Hiroshi. Hiroshi responded by pushing himself harder and caught up to
Akira, who was still racing hard. Smiles of fierce determination were on both
men’s faces. Both men felt re-energized, finding that each could satisfy his yearning
competitive nature. They simply felt like men.

Hiroshi and Akira neared
the corner of the barrack and both arrived at the same time. Hiroshi slowed
himself down as Akira steered himself to the other corner of the barrack and
grabbed it. Hiroshi then circled back and placed his hands on his knees as he
leaned forward to catch his breath. Akira was already doing the same. He stood
up, inhaled, and trotted over to Hiroshi who also straightened up as he turned
to Akira.

Akira eked out a smile and
said, “You’re almost as fast as me!”

“I think we finished at the
same time,” said Hiroshi, correcting Akira.

Akira struggled with a
laugh, “Not going to admit that I’m faster, are you?”

“That would be a cold day
in hell,” said Hiroshi with a hint of cockiness.

Akira inhaled the air
around him and wiped the sweat from his brow and said, “This is hell according
to the sergeant, but you’re right, it’s not cold, yet.” Akira let out a laugh.

Just then the drill
sergeant trotted alongside them and yelled out, “What are you two doing?”

Hiroshi and Akira quickly
stood alongside one another at attention as their chests heaved up and down.
There was sweat beading down the sides of their temples as they stared ahead,
feeling the impending scolding that they simply knew was coming.

“I said! What the fuck do
you two think you were doing!” shouted the drill sergeant. His chest wasn’t even
heaving one bit, attesting to his fine military endurance. He stood with his
hands at his sides and leaned forward a little when he addressed the two
soldiers.

“It was just a friendly
race, Sir,” said Akira.

“Race? Did I ask you to
race, Private!”

“No, Sir,” replied Akira.

“And how about you, Private
Satoh, did I ask for a goddamn race?”

“No, Sir,” replied Hiroshi.

“If I ask for a race then
by god, I will ask for a race! I asked for a little jog around the camp and
instead, I get two show boaters who think they are better than everyone else.
Do you think you’re better than everyone else, Privates!”

Hiroshi and Akira could
feel the heat from their poor judgment and answered together, “No, Sir!”

The drill sergeant stared
at the two soldiers and then extended his right hand in the direction of the
other soldiers, who were still about one hundred yards away. “Then explain to
me why the rest of your fellow troops are over there!”

There was silence from both
Hiroshi and Akira.

“No, don’t answer that
because if you two had shit for brains, we wouldn’t be here having this
conversation! In the army, you work as a team! You do not leave your fellow
soldiers behind! When you are out on the battlefield, the only people that you
will be able to depend on will be your fellow soldiers! Your mommies and
daddies will not be there and your fellow troops will need to depend on you! Do
I make myself clear!”

The guilt hit Hiroshi hard.
He had abandoned his fellow soldiers. In the army, he needed to start acting
and thinking like a soldier. Hiroshi felt stupid for allowing Akira to goad him
into the race. He then answered along with Akira, “Yes, Sir!”

“Good. I do not want to
have this conversation again. In the army, you follow the orders of your
commanding officer. That is how we operate around here. We are all in this
together.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Hiroshi
and Akira once more.

The drill sergeant then
cast a glance at Akira, then Hiroshi. “Get down and give me fifty and count off
together. That’s about how much time it will take for the rest of your fellow
troops to get their slow sorry asses back here.”

Later that night after
dinner, Hiroshi was sitting on his bed shirtless. He had just washed up and had
his towel draped around his neck, catching the droplets of water from his wet
hair. He had a pad of paper on his lap and was writing in it when Peter came
back from his shower.

Peter slowly eased himself
onto the bed until he was finally face up and let out a deep sigh of relief. He
lay there with his pants and his shirt unbuttoned. He gave out a low painful
moan. “I’ve never felt so sore in my life. It feels like every single muscle in
my body is in shock.” There was no response from Hiroshi as he continued
writing. Peter slowly turned his head toward Hiroshi, who was in deep
concentration and asked, “What are you doing there?”

Hiroshi looked up. Peter’s
words had finally caught his attention. “Oh, Peter, I didn’t even see you
there. I’m just writing a letter to my wife.”

Peter rolled over and
settled onto his side, “What’s her name?”

A smile crept over
Hiroshi’s face. “Minami,” he said, with a hint of admiration.

“That’s a pretty name. My
girlfriend’s name is Noriko.”

“A Japanese name. Did your
parents mind?” asked Hiroshi.

“Oh, yeah, I haven’t found
too many Japanese girls with English names. Then again, I didn’t really get to
meet too many girls until I met Noriko. My parents will just have to accept
it,” said Peter with a chuckle.

“Looks like we both left
loved ones,” said Hiroshi.

“Yeah. Hey, mind sparing me
a few sheets of paper? I should start writing a letter as well before she gets
mad at me.”

Hiroshi smiled and tore
away a few sheets of paper from his notepad as Peter attempted to raise himself
up. Hiroshi held out the sheets to Peter who rolled back into the bed. He
looked at Peter confused as he exhaled loudly.

“You know, why don’t you
just place the pieces of paper on my chest because I’m too sore to move right
now,” said Peter.

Hiroshi laughed and obliged
his new friend by placing a few pieces of paper on his chest. He had settled
back into his bed to continue writing when Kenji sauntered up to them. He had
his pants rolled up at the ankles and was shirtless. Kenji was a skinny kid,
but sinewy. A towel draped over his left shoulder as all the muscles in his
upper body was tense from the day’s workout.

“I am so sore!” Kenji
complained loudly as he rolled his eyes up into his head.

“It sure looks like it,”
said Hiroshi with a smile.

“And look at Peter, he
looks like he can’t even get up,” Kenji said with a hint of humor in his voice.

Peter wanted to get up and
with all his will, was only able to muster a middle finger at Kenji. As his
hand fell back along the bed, he uttered, “I can’t move.”

Everyone let out a chuckle.
Kenji then found some new energy and lifted his pale arms and flexed his
biceps. “Yeah, once I get into shape, all the girls back home will love me,”
said Kenji confidently as he looked at his biceps with a grin.

Kenji then got down in a
combat stance and pretended to hold a rifle and arced the fictitious gun in a
sweeping motion as he mimicked the sound of gunfire. “But that’s after I kill
me some damn Nazis!” He swung his arms back and repeated the sound of gunfire.

Peter placed his arm over
his eyes. With much effort he mumbled, “I’ll write my letters tomorrow.”

“Hey Kenji, have you
written to your parents yet? Or maybe you might want to write to Miho,” said
Hiroshi as he tore a couple of sheets from his notepad.

“Hey, thanks Home Run.
Yeah, Miho huh? Hey, if I marry her, we can be like brothers,” said Kenji with
some excitement.

Hiroshi smiled just as
Akira chimed in on the conversation. He had just come up to the three men and
he was shirtless as well. His body was still soaking wet and a tattoo of a
Japanese character was displayed prominently on his left shoulder. “That is if
you make it back alive, Kenji,” he said bluntly.

Hiroshi shot Akira a look
of contempt, but he ignored it.

“Of course I’m coming back!
Give me a rifle and nothing is going to stop me!” said Kenji as he acted out
the rifle scene once more.

“Yeah, and what happens if
they do this to you?” Akira threw his arm around Kenji’s neck and jabbed his
fingers into his head. Akira was bigger and stronger than Kenji and pulled him
away as Kenji struggled back with his flaring arms.

Hiroshi watched the scene
with some amusement but as much as he didn’t appreciate Akira’s comment, there
was some truth to it. The reality was some of them might not come back. He
reflected on this for a moment and then brushed it aside as he went back to
writing down his last sentences to Minami. He then signed it and read it over.