While the Congressional Gold Medal events held this past weekend were very moving and powerful, I could not help but feel that a very important group of people were inadvertently ignored throughout all of the event. This group was an essential part of the WWII Nisei veterans successes during the war and for decades thereafer. Without these people, it is unlikely that the majority of the veterans would have been able to even attend the ceremonies yet hardly any mention was made of them by any of the keynote speakers or other high maka maka folks.
Of course, I am writing about the wives and widows of the veterans.
Perhaps it is because I am an Japanese American woman myself that I felt a bit angry about them being slighted during the whole CGM brohaha for months. Perhaps it is because I see these women interact with the veterans several times a week and know first hand how dependent our heroes are on them for day to day living. Perhaps it is because a few of them came up to me in tears during the events, feeling that they had not properly honored their late husbands due to their inability as spouses to fully participate in the parade, luncheon and memorial service.
I try to put myself in their shoes and realize that there is no way that I would have been able to cope with all these women went through in the 40s. Many of them were married days before their new husbands shipping out to almost certain death in the European Theatre, some doing so while living behind barbed wire in internment camps. There was not time to dilly dally as our generation does, living with our boyfriends for years (often having kids with them out of wedlock) before deciding whether they are the right ones for us to marry. You have to be an incredibly strong woman to sign up for the job of a military spouse, particularly one back in WWII, as there was no way to know when or if you would hear from your husband. I have heard more than once of a widow receiving notice that her husband was killed in action only to receive a letter from him weeks later that was written prior to his death. Can you imagine reading in the paper about only 8 men in your husband's company surviving a bloody battle and wondering if he had beaten the odds and was still standing?
On top of that, throw in trying to make ends meet on your husband's $20 paycheck as a single parent largely on your own. While many women did have support from their own families and friends, they did not have access to Family Support Group services, counseling or financial aid like current military spouses do. Even if they did, it is unlikely they would have looked outside of their families for help as that simply was not the Japanese way to do things. I think of the women I know, teeny little Japanese women who are so soft-spoken and shy, and am awestruck with all that they have achieved in keeping their families together, running their households, maintaining a marital relationship and living their lives for these many years. Like the vets, these women never complain about what they went through. Like the veterans, they reply that they simply were doing their jobs as wives as mothers - that when their men enlisted for duty, so did they.
So different again for our generation that lives for the next Oprah moment that will bring us individual fulfullment. If we put our children's needs before our own, we feel guilty because we are told that we need to nurture ourselves first and fully before we can competently care for anyone else. Yet, when we put ourselves first, we are told we are selfish and worst of all, bad mothers. For the WWII wives, self-reflection was a luxury that they could not afford. There was just too much to do and too little time to do it.
I think of the times when Oscar the Grouch is out of town and I am in a panic over how I will deal with the kids on my own. Even though they may be at school for most of the day, I still brace myself for the hours when they are home or having to get them ready in the morning as well as deal with the traffic at school. I will call Oscar and grumble as often as I can as well as call in my parents to help out when things get too frenetic. I also will get on the phone or on Facebook to vent to my friends about my terribly stressful and pitiful situation. Even this morning when Oscar mentioned he will have a bunch of out-of-town depo trips, I could feel the blood rush out of my body and I froze in terror. How would I cope with this? How can I juggle everything? And we're only talking about a few days and not years of absence.
Even more so, I wonder if I would stay to care for a husband who returned home from war, physically, emotionally and psychologically damaged. War is hell, not only for the soldiers who survived it but for the families who must cope with the fallout from battle - the PTSD, the endless medical treatments, the use of alcohol and drugs to deal with horribly painful memories. Part of our Japanese American culture is the art of gaman, to put up with it, to deal with it, always with a dark cloak of silence and shutting down. Very honorably samurai but not the best character trait to become a loving husband or father. However, this was the way of the Japanese American warrior returning home in WWII. They often say that the only people who understood what they went through were their fellow WWII vets or any other soldier who had engaged in combat.
My friend BT who did two tours of duty in Kuwait said he cannot even imagine what the WWII vets went through because they engaged in hand-to-hand combat, looking the enemy in the face as they fought for their lives. We all know of the high rates of PTSD, depression and suicide faced by our current corp of returning veterans from Iraq, Kuwait and Afghanistan and the efforts made by the military to help them heal as well as teach their families to cope. I am certain that the rates were even higher for the WWII generation yet because of the fear of being "lolo", very few veterans sought help of any sort. Sadly, even now almost 70 years later, the ravages of WWII are evident in them if you look really close. Even more tragic is that many did not and will not seek treatment which could make their golden years with their wives pleasant ones. Nonetheless, the women remain by their sides - coping with the darkness that envelopes their husbands as they have for years. With inner strength, dignity and courage.
Many of these women sent their sons off to the Vietnam War and their grandsons off to Iraq, Kuwait and Afghanistan with the same stoicism that they sent off their husbands. I wondered how they could do that, having first hand experience of what war can do to a person. I look at the soldiers of the 100th/442nd, many in their 20s who have gone through several deployments abroad and I see my two boys in their faces. Not the grown up Mad Cow or Professor, not even the 8 year old or the 13 year old. I see them as little defenseless babies being sent out to slaughter. I know I could not wish them good luck and send them off on a C-17 plane to a foriegn land. I don't have the guts for it. But again, these ladies tell me that they were doing their jobs as mothers to support their children's dreams. That their sons wanted to do their families proud by following in the footsteps of their fathers in the 100th, 442nd and MIS. Me, I know I am too darn selfish to put the needs of my country before my own needs. I want to keep my boys here, safe and sound, away from all that is evil in the world. I do not have the strength of these women and I know I never will.
What continues to impress me is the ability that these woman have to live on their own terms and to change as needed whenever needed. The women who get their drivers licenses when they are over 80 because the need to drive their infirm husbands to doctors appointments at Tripler. The women who care for their husbands who suffer from alzheimers while babysitting grandchildren or even great-grandchildren. The widows who comfort those who come to pay respects at a funeral while putting aside their own grief until they are in the privacy of their homes. The widows who, after a long bus ride from home and a hike up to Punchbowl, faithfully place flowers on their husbands' graves at Punchbowl every week. The women who, even when hospitalized, do not have a hair out of place and make it their job to make sure you are comfortable when you visit them. The women on limited incomes who always drop off snacks or presents for my kids. The women who, although barely able to hear, call me when they don't see me for a while to make sure I am okay. The women who are the heart and soul of every veterans organization, whether you see them or not.
The next time you see a veteran, I bet you will see his wife beside him - helping him walk, pushing his wheelchair, sitting beside his bed in a care home. Please remember not only to thank him but to thank her for her many years of service.
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