After Pearl Harbor, Americans of Japanese ancestry were considered “enemy aliens,” even those born in the U.S. They were kicked out of the military, including high school ROTC.
But many still wanted to serve. The government feared that white people would object to serving with “the enemy.” So they came up with the idea of making a unit entirely of Japanese-American volunteers. Originally, they expected most of them to be from the mainland. But oddly, people who lost their property and were sent to government relocation camps weren’t feeling very patriotic. Who would have thought? Most of the 442nd ended up being Hawai`i boys. (Among them was future senator Dan Inouye.) Japanese in Hawai`i were not put in camps, with a handful of exceptions. They were over one-third the population at the time; the economy would have crashed.
Eventually, the success of the 442nd led to a change in the status of Japanese-Americans, allowing them to be drafted...if they were willing to say they were loyal to the U.S., not the Emperor of Japan. Some were so insulted to even be asked that they refused; many of them were imprisoned. But over 75% agreed, and were subject to the draft.
The 442nd was deployed only in Europe, and were the most decorated unit in U.S. history for its size and length of service. They are most famous for the rescue of the “Lost Battalion,” a Texas unit trapped by the enemy in the mountains of France. They suffered horrific losses, but eventually prevailed. The US Army military history web site (page now 404) described it like this:
France, October 1944. The rain and chill which precedes winter in the Vosges mountains had started. The 442d Regimental Combat Team was weary and battle-scarred after fighting in Italy. Most of its members were Americans of Japanese ancestry. Men with names like Sumida, Miyamoto, Takemoto and Tanaka would write a bright page in the history of the U.S. Army.
On 27 October, the 442d was called on to rescue a surrounded U.S. battalion. They attacked the heavily fortified defenses of a superior German force. Fighting was desperate, often hand-to-hand. By 30 October, nearly half the regiment had become casualties.
Then, something happened in the 442d. By ones and twos, almost spontaneously and without orders, the men got to their feet and, with a kind of universal anger, moved toward the enemy positions. Bitter hand-to-hand combat ensued as the Americans fought from one fortified position to the next. Finally, the enemy broke in disorder.
"Go For Broke" was more than a motto for the 442d Regimental Combat Team. At a special ceremony to honor the 442d, seeing only a few hundred men, the Division Commander asked why the whole regiment was not present. Colonel Charles W. Pence is said to have replied. "Sir ... this is the entire regiment."
Decorated as the unit was, they probably would have been even more so were it not for racism. In recognition of this, many of the medals were upgraded decades later.
The Movie
A movie was made about them in 1951, called Go For Broke!
You can watch it in full on YouTube. (It’s captioned, for accessibility purposes, and some of the transliterations of Japanese words are kind of hilarious.)
I believe that’s how the phrase “go for broke” entered English — from the movie. It was the motto of the 442nd, from Hawaiian pidgin.
The Ghost Story
This story is from a book called Obake Files, by Glen Grant. Grant collected many true ghost stories of Hawai`i, including this one, given to him by one of his students.
The obon was once a somber Japanese religious ceremony. Its purpose was to welcome the spirits of the dead for one night, and entertain them with the bon-dance.
I don't know what it's like in Japan, but in Hawai`i, bon-dancing has become a lighthearted affair. Instead of being held on just one night (traditionally August 15), they are held almost every weekend throughout the summer by various church and community groups. They are celebrations of Japanese culture, and people of all ethnic backgrounds participate. There are food booths, and a sort of carnival atmosphere. Many young people have no idea what the original purpose of the bon-dance was.
In the early '70s, Alvin, a college student, went to a bon-dance at the Mo`ili`ili Community Center with his family. He felt someone tap him on the shoulder, and turned to see a young man, dressed in a happi coat and headband, like many people wear for bon-dancing. "Excuse me, where's your father?" the young man asked.
"He's with my brother, getting some food," Alvin replied. "He'll be back soon."
"I have to go. Just tell your father that Shuzo Nakamura came by."
"Okay," Alvin said, and the man disappeared into the crowd.
When he saw his father a few minutes later, he said, "Shuzo Nakamura said 'hi.'"
"Who?" his father asked.
"Shuzo Nakamura," Alvin repeated, and described the young man he had seen.
"The only Shuzo Nakamura I know died in Italy in 1944," his father said, turning pale. "He's buried in the Japanese graveyard."
Later that evening, Alvin and his father went to visit the grave of his 442nd RCT buddy who had died in WWII. The grave was well-cared for, marked by a polished black granite monument. They said a prayer by the grave. When they raised their heads, they briefly saw a gently smiling face reflected in the shiny surface of the tomb. It was the man Alvin met earlier at the bon dance.