The Purple Heart Read Online Free PDF Page A

won battles that the white
regiments could not win. But what pleased Aiko were the following numbers: twenty-two
Congressional Medals of Honor, fifty-two Distinguished Service Crosses, 560
Silver Stars, 4,000 Bronze stars and the most astonishing number, 9,486 Purple
Hearts. The 442 nd , a regiment whose patriotism was doubted, proved
to everyone that its heart was truly American and became the most decorated
army regiment during World War II.
    She leaned back into her
seat with her fingertips idled on the keyboard and relaxed for a moment. A rush
of pride ran through Aiko. She couldn’t explain it, but she was proud and was
experiencing the beginnings of an overdue appreciation of the sacrifices of a
generation of Japanese Americans before her.
    Aiko had perused about
seven sites and with each one, she learned more. She had already jotted down
four pages of brief notes when she finished her coffee. She looked out the
window, and it was an ordinary Saturday afternoon. People were going about
their errands, and couples walked amorously hand in hand along the quiet
street. It was the American way of life, and it took brave individuals many
decades ago to fight for it so that her generation could appreciate it. Her
eyes turned to her laptop screen and with curiosity, typed in another search
term: Purple Heart. There were more than 9,000 Purple Hearts awarded to Japanese
American soldiers alone, and she wanted to learn more about the specific act
that would make a soldier deserving of the Purple Heart. Her search answered
her question. The Purple Heart was a combat decoration, awarded to any soldier
who was wounded or killed in battle at the hands of the enemy.
    For a moment, the stark
realization hit Aiko. Her grandfather would not have received the Purple Heart
if he were a deserter. An invisible heavy weight suddenly fell onto Aiko. Her
fingers stiffened. But she remembered Joey’s drawing that depicted her
grandfather shot, and she could only assume that the wound was from the enemy.
She was confused. Which version of her grandfather’s past was true? Was he a
deserter, or was he fatally shot as depicted in the drawing?
    Her mind wandered back to
the conversation that she had with her father the night before. She wasn’t sure
how to broach the subject with her grandmother. Would her father have called
her grandmother to warn her ahead of time? Would she not want to talk about
Grandpa if she indeed knew that he was a deserter? Then again, did she even
know that her own son knew? If that was the truth, would her grandmother think
it would be wiser to keep it a secret than to let it pass down to the next
generation?
    Aiko ate the last bite of her
Danish and sipped the dregs of her cold mocha latte. She frowned at the bitter
taste of it and put it aside. The day was over. She wanted to rush home and
talk to her grandmother. She closed her laptop and proceeded to gather her
things. The day was a bit cooler, with the sun beginning to set. There were
still streaks of the sun raking over the city horizon, as it faded into a
reddish and purplish sunset against a bluish sky that was being slowly engulfed
in darkness.
    The new knowledge that Aiko
gathered about her grandparents’ generation was overwhelming. She tried to
digest each bit of it. But at the same time, a heavy emotion lingered over each
thought and that was disappointment. Disappointment that her generation didn’t
know much about the unjust plight of Japanese Americans during World War II,
and she was certain that there was more that she didn’t know.
    Soon enough, she was back
in her apartment. She took a moment to hang up her coats from the previous
night, which were lying on the hallway chair. She slipped out of her shoes and
walked over to the coffee table, propped up her bag against it, and placed her
cell phone on top. She made her way into the kitchen to prepare tea.
    After she poured the
boiling water into her teacup, she walked back to the sofa and took a