"I was born December 25, 1919 in Tooele Utah. Japan is the land of my ancestors the land of my parents birth. My father’s was Transude (Tom) Tedehara was born in Japan in 1888. My mother was Massami Hashimoto, she was born in Kochiken Japan in 1895. Both my parents immigrated to America looking for a better home as young adults. Before their marriage both my parents had become American Citizens. To their union there were 6 boys and 3 girls. Not long after I was born my parents bought a home with plenty of land around it in Murray Utah I lived there until I went into the service. 

   My childhood was a normal one for me, my home was a very loving home we learned the values of life early on and there was not a day go by that those values were not part of the everyday living. We lived by one golden rule, respect mother and father, respect your siblings but more importantly respect yourself and your values. We gave thanks to God each day, and we saluted our flag daily at school, we stood proud and we pledged our allegiance to the flag, for our country the greatest of the lands, United States of America. My grandparents both remained in Japan, my grandfather was famous Japanese Samurai Warrior, of which I was very honored. There were many Japanese family members who remained in Japan, for the rest of their lives, many of them I never met.

   After school we had our chores, helping mother out either in the home or in the vegetable garden. This was our second source of income, my father worked on the rail roads in Tooele and had obtained Government clearance because he worked so closely with the military. He held on to that government clearance for as long as I can remember.

   On Friday nights our friends and us would get together, by that I mean, 3-4 different close friends along with all their siblings would all get together and we would all do something as a group. Sometimes we would go to the park, to the dances out for an ice cream or to a movie. A lot of the times we would just go hang out at someone’s house and play games. We took our education very serious to fail in school meant we brought shame to ourselves, and to our parents.

   We shared our garden with anyone who had ran upon hard times, my parents knew the meaning of hunger and they understood the meaning of hard work. It brought them joy to help others because others were so kind to them. They loved this country, it was their home, it was honor for them to be American Citizens.

   Although I had a lot of friends most of them were American Japanese, not because of race but because we were all raised within the same neighborhood with the same values and within the same culture. This dose not mean that we did not have any white friends, it was a lot later in life that we learned that race counts. Little did we know at the time of childhood friends that it would be those friends who would question our honor the loudest.

   In 1939 I graduated from Murray High School, and went out and got a job right away to help out my family. My friends and I were able to find employment together working for the government hauling scrapes of metal, wood, and wire away from constriction sites. We worked out of Fort Douglas, and was sent from there to the different government sites. I would say we respected people and they respected us in return.

   However this was prior to Sunday December 7, 1941 when Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. This was the day that my life would change forever, and I became very much aware that a person’s honor is lost due to his ancestry.

   By the mid-morning hours after the news bullets, we went from the "Respected Americans" to the . I remember sitting at the table that morning listening to the news, heartbroken and crying, just like any other red blooded American. My parents cried that day more than any other day in their life. By noon our deep despair turned to terror as truck loads of American citizens drove past our homes yelling, “Death to the Rotten Japes!” and calls of “You Dirty Rotten Japes" all the while objects were being thrown at our homes and at us. For us the whole country had turned mad, but no one seen the despair in our homes.

   I didn’t sleep that night at all I prayed that I and my family and friends would make it to and from work alive and well. The following morning my friends and I had made it to work we found ourselves standing in line getting finger printed like a criminal and giving a special work card that was to hang around our necks, we were now marked. At almost every site that I went too after that day to do my job I was called names and things were being thrown at me. I was now a young man without a country because my ancestors were from Japan the very country who was now testing every red blooded American’s freedoms – mine included.

   By the end of the week the call had gone out that Uncle Sam wanted all the "American Boys" seventeen years old to eighteen to enlist right away. Being the proud Americans we were we seen ourselves no different, we went to see our boss asking him how to enlist. Fourteen young red blooded American boys turned away because our ancestors were Japanese, and we were not fit to fight for our country. Everywhere we went we were quickly reminded that no one was to ever trust a Jap again. Signs went up everywhere, “We serve no JAPES” “Japes not welcomed here!” “GO HOME JAPES” for the first time in my life I was shamed and was very ashamed for reasons I could not understand myself.

   In order to survive the American Japanese people who lived close by each other banded together and never went anywhere alone. We feared for the safety of our mothers and sisters, we feared for our own safety at work, school and for our father’s safety.

   On February 19, 1942, soon after the beginning of World War II, widespread fear was sweeping the country, President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed the Executive Order number 9-0-6-6 calling for the evacuation order commenced the round-up of 120,000 Americans of Japanese heritage to one of 10 internment camps. They were officially called “Relocation Centers” they housed more than 2/3 of the American Japanese people who were citizens of the United States. These people all costal residents were housed in "tarpaper-covered barracks of simple frame construction without plumbing or cooking facilities of any kind." Coal was hard to come by, and internees slept under as many blankets as they were allotted. Food was rationed out at an expense of 48 cents per internee, and served by fellow internees in a mess hall.

   As I recall it was about the end of February, not only was my country the US at war abroad but it was also at war with its self, inside our very own boundaries . While it is very understandable for me personally it was unforgivable what took place with the American Japanese people. The haltered for our people ran rapid, here in Utah it was very low keyed as far as hitting the airways, but it was still going on. To this day I can not put into words the way I felt putting on my work card around my neck, my country that I loved was rapping me of my own freedoms due me as a free American citizen. The stress was unbelievable, we spent our working hours in fear for ourselves, in fear of our families most of us were losing weight because we could not eat. At my work it became unsafe at most of the sites I had spent the last 2 years going to cleaning up the construction sites for any American Japanese people to go. My boss at Fort Douglas was a Colonel, one day he had to pulled me into his office, try as he may to soften the blows that he was to deal me, asked if I would be willing to go out to Kearns and work. He felt that I would be pretty safe there, and that I would be over a crew of other American Japanese people, if not he was going to have to let me go. Not because I was not a good worker, but because of my ancestry. This too I could see brought him great shame, as I started walking out his voice was shaking as he said; I wish things were different.

   Living in Murray not far from the dry farming area I had heard that the new base was going in on top of the wheat fields. It was not until the land was all cleared off of the wheat and sagebrush the dirt was then leveled off that I could at least believe what I was seeing. I started going out to Kearns picking stuff up from the construction site the new base. I couldn’t believe they were making the dry farms into a base, and how fast they were moving along. By this time they were building the roads the pipe and power lines had just been laid. There was all these roads built and they were all going nowhere, you could see from one end of the base to the other end and nothing in between. And I remember a lot of power poles up for the birds to sit and watch us work. By June of 1943 the last of the barracks were under construction, and the base was almost completed. The Colonel from Fort Douglas, who was also my boss would come out at least twice a week to see how things were going and to make sure we were having no troubles from the other folks that were working there also from a construction company. It was either at the end of June perhaps the first part of July, we had just loaded up our trucks for the last load of construction trash to be taken out of the new Kearns Base. Really to be honest we all thought that this was our last day at work worried about what we would be doing next. Just as I was getting into my truck to leave the base, we had bid each other Farwell, and wished each good luck. The boss called me over and asked if I would like to help build the headquarters. I thought to myself sure, perhaps this would prove my loyalty and we would be able to enlist. I told him sure I would and my buddies would like to help also. The following morning we were sent to Kearns and started to build the Headquarters. I do remember we had to have it ready in two weeks, as that’s when the commander was going to be at Kearns. I remember there wasn’t much built of the base and my friends and I talking among ourselves wondering if in fact there was going to soon be a whole bunch of men at Kearns where were they going to put them. There were a few building finished or near finished I believe they were to be the barracks. The Hospital, and the medical area was either done or near completion. A mess hall was built and all most ready to go, and there was a large building across the way from where we were working, was all most completed.

   I have failed to mention the first sight of horror that has stuck with me all these years and how I came up with most of my crew working under me. One day I remember well, it was real hot, and it seemed we couldn’t drink enough water, the dust was thick, when my boss whose name escapes me came over to see how we was coming along with the building. He didn’t like the way any of us looked and took us over to the train station, and we sat in the shade of the building and had lunch, after which we went inside and washed our faces. Just as we came out of the building a train came roaring in thick black smoke and a loud whistle, and the loud screech of the metal to metal as the train stopped was just ear piercing. We could not imagine what in the world was going on, as the men inside all ran out with their guns drawn and ready for attack. When the train had finally stopped the doors opened, and under the cries of little children the train was emptied. American citizens of Japanese heritage were then allowed to get off the train under gunpoint. I say American citizens as this is what we seen ourselves, we were always American first, we were Japanese second. And now we are our countries prim enemy, we were not trusted and our honor was stripped away. We watched in horror as the people were ordered to "Hurry Up" small children not understanding what was going on crying. Their mother’s trying their best to keep the children under control out of fear of what was to come next. Many men was poked and pushed with the guns and was told " Only a good Jap is a dead Jap." "Move along you dirty Jap or your dead." There were three young boys that came off the train later to join us in helping build the Headquarters building, and were worked under an armed solider. At night I was allowed to go home, they returned to the stockade, where they were kept behind bars and feed just like animals.

   These were trains coming in from California filled with American-Japanese people almost every day young boys and men were pulled from the groups to help with the building of Kearns and cleaning up. Those people who went to the Japanese interments were those families who lived on the coastal areas, they in the eyes of our government posed a threat to our freedoms. They lost everything, important to them, their land, their homes, their children, their pride and honor was destroyed more importantly they lost their respect and trust for their country and it too never returned.

   A week before the Colonel arrived at Kearns, the building was completed, with the exception of a few minor things inside. We were left to put the lawn in and then we continued to hauling the building scrapes away until mid- August. By this time in 1943, the War Department in need of manpower reverse itself and sent recruiters to the relocation camps asking for volunteers to form a new Japanese American combat unit the 442nd Regimental Combat Team. Volunteers were also accepted from Hawaii where 12,500 men had volunteered. When the call went out for American Japanese men to join the services my friends and I all went down and enlisted out of Fort Douglas, many of the young boys from Kearns that we had been working with was also there. It was like a huge home coming I was so happy to see that my friends and family were safe and alive, that had been sent to the relocation camps. The Nisei volunteers ( I am a Nisei, born to Japanese parents, I am first generation out of Japan in my family.) were combined with Japanese Americans still in the military and were sent to Camp Shelby, Mississippi for combat training.

   While the 442nd was being formed and trained, the 1,432 men of the 100th battalion had entered combat in Italy, September 26, 1943.

   On June 2, 1944 the 442nd had landed at Naples and pushed to the Anzio beaches. On June 15th the 100th Battalion and the 442nd were merged into a single unit. The 100th battalion became the first battalion of the 442nd because the original first battalion of the 442nd had been used for replacements for the 100th. They were attached to the 133rd Regiment in the 34th Division.

   After heavy fighting at Belvedere, Luciana, and Livorno, the 442nd was pulled back for a rest and was presented with a Presidential Unit Citation. After fighting at the Arno River in August, 1944, the 442nd moved to France for an attack in the Vosages Mountains. While in France, the 442nd was detached from the 34th Division and attached to the 36th Division of the Seventh Army. Given the assignment to capture the town of Bruyeres, the 442nd fought a bitter house to house battle and captured over 200 German soldiers.

   Their bloodiest battle occured during their rescue of the "Lost Battalion". The First Battalion of the 36th Division had been given the assignment to clear a ridge deep in the Vosages, but had been cut-off by the Germans. The battalion, the 1st Battalion, 141st Infantry Regiment (a former Texas National Guard unit), had been cut off since October 24,1944. The other two battalions of the 141st were unable to break through. The 100th /442nd, was ordered to rescue the Lost Battalion in a real-life "Saving Private Ryan" mission.

   The 442nd Regimental Combat Team included the 522nd Field Artillery Battalion, 232nd Combat Engineer Company, 206th Army Ground Force Band, Antitank Company, Cannon Company, Service Company, medical detachment, headquarters companies, and two infantry battalions. The 1st Infantry Battalion remained in the States to train new recruits. The 2nd and 3rd Battalions would join the legendary 100th Battalion, which was already fighting in Italy.

   The 442nd Regimental Combat Team was the most decorated unit for its size and length of service, in the entire history of the U.S. Military. The 4,000 men who initially came in April 1943 had to be replaced nearly 3.5 times. In total, about 14,000 men served, ultimately earning 9,486 Purple Hearts , 21 Medals of Honor and an unprecedented eight Presidential Unit Citations. However not but a few of all these medals were awarded, only on paper did we receive these medals. Most of us including myself have asked our government for our medals still to this day.

    We all became part of the 442 United States Army Air Force and we served our country with HONOR. Our Motto was “Go for Broke” a term used in a high rollers gambling game, for us it meant everything, our country left us no choice but to give it all we had and in our minds we were going for broke to restore our country’s honor, but also the our honor in the eyes of our fellow countrymen.

   During the war I was badly wounded, I was sent stateside to recoup, and then was medically discharged. My wounds were varied the worst was my head wound. Still in bandages I was sent home by train, by the time I had arrived at the Rio Grande in Salt Lake I thought I was going to die, I was in so much pain and was left with nothing to take for it. I tried to hail a cab, but no one would pick me up because I was a Jap. I was left with no other choice than to walk home from Salt Lake to Murray. I looked like a mummy on the out side, but on the inside I was a tender footed warrior shamed on the outside, but on the inside I was coming home with honor, and it was going to be that honor that got me home. So many times I could have just laid down and died on the streets, so many times I prayed just to get home, I would not give my country the satisfaction of seeing another “Dead Jap” or for that matter being listed as one. I told myself to just keep walking, my feet was trying to keep up with my heart beats, and the pounding of my head. As long as I could continue to move my feet I knew I would get home. At this time dying would have been so much easier, the pain was overwhelming I was trembling inside and sweat was pouring off my head, my bandages were soaked and I knew if I didn’t’ take them off soon I would run the risk of infection. I unwrapped my head and staggered down the road, a man in a truck honked at me, I jumped back believing that I must had been in the road or something, he stopped and asked me if I would like a ride. I did not see anyone else with him only a man offering me a ride, as I got up close to his truck the boys in the back of the truck started yelling at me and throwing items at me hitting me mostly in the head, and chest, after what seamed forever the truck pealed out and I was peppered with rocks. Some of my wounds had been reopened by this action, and last thing I can remember was a sign that read Murray 5 miles. The next thing I remember is seeing my home, as I got closer to home I could feel my self getting weaker and weaker, I dropped my bag on the sidewalk unable to carry it any further too weak to pick it up and too much in pain I didn’t care. I stumbled up to the door and rang the bell one of my sisters came to the door and opened it I called her by name and said I am home, and went on it. Moments later sounds of women screaming was heard and I passed out, I knew I was safe I was home. Later that night my father came to my room, where my sisters had been taking turns caring for me, he asked me who I was I told him I was his son George, the man sat on my bed and said no, our son has been killed in action. You may stay here for a while until your much better then we will see if we can’t help you find your home. Somehow I was able to convince one of my sisters that I was in fact who I said I was, and she ran and gathered up the rest of my family and told them I was home. My mother never left the side of my bed until I was strong enough to get out of it.

My hope today is and has always been since this time that someday honor can come to my family and be referred to as Americans first and foremost Japanese by ancestry, but always Americans. I pray that someday, the American Japanese people can forgive what there country did to them, raise above those things and hold their heads high with honor. We made it, we went for broke, God Bless America!