[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

[[Page 1197]]

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.