    [Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States: WILLIAM J. CLINTON (2000, Book I)]
    [June 21, 2000]
    [Pages 1196-1198]
    [From the U.S. Government Publishing Office www.gpo.gov]

    Remarks on Presenting the Congressional Medal of Honor to Asian-American
    Heroes of World War II
    June 21, 2000

        Chaplain Hicks; distinguished Members of
    the Senate and the House who are here in large numbers; Secretary and Mrs. Cohen;
    Secretary and Mrs. West; Secretary Shalala; other
    members of the administration who are here, I thank all of you for being
    here on this profoundly important day.
        In early 1945 a young Japanese-American of the 442d Regimental
    Combat Team lay dead on a hill in southern France--the casualty of
    fierce fighting with the Germans. A chaplain went up to pray over him,
    to bless him, to bring him back down. As the chaplain later said, ``I
    found a letter in his pocket. The soldier had just learned that some
    vandals in California had burned down his father's home and barn in the
    name of patriotism. And yet, this young man had volunteered for every
    patrol he could go on.''
        In a few moments I will ask the military aides to read individual
    citations detailing the extraordinary bravery of 22 Asian-American
    soldiers--some still with us, some to be represented by family members.
    We recognize them today with our Nation's highest military honor, the
    Medal of Honor. They risked their lives, above and beyond the call of
    duty. And in so doing, they did more than defend America. In the face of
    painful prejudice, they helped to define America at its best.
        We have many distinguished Americans here today: Members of the
    Senate and House, including at least one Medal of Honor winner, Senator
    Kerrey; we have former Senators and House
    Members here. But there is one person I would like to introduce and ask
    to stand because, in a profound and fundamental way, he stands on the
    shoulders of these whom we honor today, and all those who have worked
    for 50 years to set the record straight. Ladies and gentlemen, I would
    like to recognize the Chief of Staff of the United States Army, General
    Eric Shinseki.
        Immediately following Pearl Harbor, Japanese-Americans in the United
    States military were forced to surrender their weapons. National
    Guardsmen were dismissed; volunteers were rejected; draft-age youth were
    classified as, quote, ``enemy aliens.'' Executive Order 9066 authorized
    military commanders to force more than 100,000 Japanese-Americans from
    their homes and farms and businesses onto trains and buses and into
    camps, where they were placed behind barbed wire in tar-paper barracks,
    in

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    places like Manzanar, Heart Mountain, Topaz. I am sad to say that one of
    the most compelling marks of my youth is that one of those was in my
    home State.
        One resident of the camps remembers his 85-year-old grandmother
    standing in line for food with her tin cup and plate. Another remembers
    only watchtowers, guards, guilt, and fear. Another has spent years
    telling her children, ``No, grandfather was not a spy.''
        The astonishing fact is that young men of Japanese descent, both in
    Hawaii and on the mainland, were still willing, even eager, to take up
    arms to defend America.
        In 1942 a committee of the Army recommended against forming a combat
    unit of Japanese-Americans, citing, and I quote, ``the universal
    distrust in which they are held.'' Yet, Americans of Japanese ancestry,
    joined by others of good faith, pressed the issue, and a few months
    later President Roosevelt authorized a combat team of Japanese-American
    volunteers.
        In approving the unit, FDR said, ``Americanism is a matter of the
    mind and heart. Americanism is not, and never was, a matter of race or
    ancestry.'' That statement from President Roosevelt, so different from
    the Executive order of just a year before, showed a nation pulled
    between its highest ideals and its darkest fears. We were not only
    fighting for freedom and equality abroad, we were also in a struggle
    here at home over whether America would be defined narrowly, on the
    basis of race, or broadly, on the basis of shared values and ideals.
        When young Japanese-American men volunteered enthusiastically, some
    Americans were puzzled. But those who volunteered knew why. Their own
    country had dared to question their patriotism, and they would not rest
    until they had proved their loyalty.
        As sons set off to war, so many mothers and fathers told them,
    ``Live if you can; die if you must; but fight always with honor, and
    never, ever, bring shame on your family or your country.''
        Rarely has a nation been so well served by a people it had so ill-
    treated. For their numbers and length of service, the Japanese-Americans
    of the 442d Regimental Combat Team, including the 100th Infantry
    Battalion, became the most decorated unit in American military history.
    By the end of the war, America's military leaders in Europe all wanted
    these men under their command. Their motto was ``Go for Broke.'' They
    risked it all to win it all.
        They created a custom of reverse AWOL--wounded soldiers left their
    hospital beds against doctors' order to return to battle. They were
    veterans of seven brutal campaigns. They fought in Italy to overwhelm
    entrenched German positions that blocked the path north. They fought in
    France and liberated towns that still remember them with memorials. They
    took 800 casualties in just 5 days of continuous combat in southern
    France to rescue the lost battalion of Texas which had been surrounded
    by German troops.
        As their heroic efforts forced back the Nazis in Europe, news of
    their patriotism began to beat back prejudice in America. But prejudice
    is a stubborn foe. Captain Daniel Inouye,
    back from the war, in full uniform, decorated with the Distinguished
    Service Cross, the Bronze Star, Purple Heart with cluster, and 12 other
    medals and citations, tried to get a haircut and was told, ``We don't
    cut Jap hair.'' As Captain Inouye said later, ``I was tempted to break
    up the place,'' but he had already done all the fighting he needed to
    do.
        People across the country had learned of his heroism and that of his
    colleagues, and loyal Americans were eager to teach others the
    difference between patriotism and prejudice. A group of Army veterans,
    who knew firsthand the heroism of Japanese-American soldiers, attacked
    prejudice in a letter to the Des Moines Register. It said, ``When you
    have seen these boys blown to bits, going through shellfire that others
    refused to go through, that is the time to voice your opinion, not
    before.''
        In Los Angeles, a Japanese-American soldier boarded a bus in full
    uniform, as a passenger hurled a racial slur. The driver heard the
    remark, stopped the bus, and said, ``Lady, apologize to this American
    soldier or get off my bus.'' This defense of our ideals here at home was
    inspired by the courage of Japanese-Americans in battle.
        Senator Inouye, you wrote that your
    father told you, as you left at age 18 to join the Army and fight a war,
    that the Inouyes owe an unrepayable debt to America. If I may say so,
    sir, more than half a century later, America owes an unrepayable debt to
    you and your colleagues.
        Fifty-four summers ago, just a few steps from this very spot,
    President Truman greeted the returning members of the 442d and told
    them,

    [[Page 1198]]

    ``You fought, not only the enemy but you fought prejudice, and you have
    won.'' Let us not also forget that Americans of Japanese, Korean,
    Chinese, and Filipino descent, along with Alaskan natives, all faced the
    same blind prejudice.
        That is why we are proud to honor here today the service of Second
    Lieutenant Rudolph B. Davila, an American of Filipino and Spanish
    descent, who risked his life to help break through the German lines near
    Anzio; and Captain Francis Wai, an American of Chinese descent, who gave
    his life securing an important beachhead in the Philippine Islands.
        Americans of Asian descent did much more than prove they were
    Americans. They made our Nation more American. They pushed us toward
    that more perfect Union of our Founders' dreams.
        The report of the Presidential Commission on Wartime Relocation and
    Internment of Civilians, some 20 years ago now, called internment an
    injustice, based on ``race prejudice, war hysteria, and a failure of
    political leadership.'' It prescribed several steps for redress,
    including an apology from the Congress and the President.
        Some years later, many leaders backed legislation sponsored by
    Senator Daniel Akaka to review the combat
    records of Asian-Americans in World War II to determine if any deserving
    service members had been passed over for the Medal of Honor. The review
    found, indeed, that some extraordinarily brave soldiers never did
    receive the honors they clearly had earned.
        So today America awards 22 of them the Medal of Honor. They risked
    their lives on their own initiative, sometimes even against orders, to
    take out machine guns, give aid to wounded soldiers, draw fire, pinpoint
    the enemy, protect their own. People who can agree on nothing else fall
    silent before that kind of courage.
        But it is long past time to break the silence about their courage,
    to put faces and names with the courage, and to honor it by name:
    Davila, Hajiro, Hayashi, Inouye, Kobashigawa, Okutsu, Sakato, Hasemoto,
    Hayashi, Kuroda, Moto, Muranaga, Nakae, Nakamine, Nakamura, Nishimoto,
    Ohata, Okubo, Ono, Otani, Tanouye, Wai. These American soldiers, with
    names we at long last recognize as American names, made an impact that
    soars beyond the force of any battle. They left a lasting imprint on the
    meaning of America. They didn't give up on our country, even when too
    many of their countrymen and women had given up on them. They deserve,
    at the least, the most we can give--the Medal of Honor.
        I would like now to ask the military aides to read the citations.

     Note:  The President spoke at 4:45 p.m. in a pavilion on the South Lawn
    at the White House. In his remarks, he referred to Brig. Gen. David H.
    Hicks, chaplain, USA, who gave the invocation; Secretary Cohen's wife,
    Janet Langhart Cohen; and Secretary West's wife, Gail.