I looked out the window and saw the American flag, representing the country he so honorably and humbly served. The flag flowed gently, then more briskly – as if it was saluting my father as his presence passed from earth to heaven to be with God.
Thank-you for coming to remember, honor, and celebrate my father’s life. Many of you have learned of Dad’s history from the program handed out today. The cover of the program has a dove, a symbol of the world peace Dad strived for and the peace he has made with the conflicts in his life. He is now at peace with our Lord.
The program contains historical facts about my father’s life, but they do not begin to tell you who my father was. My sisters and I would like to share with you more of who our father was.
Dad was a proud, at times stubborn, but also humble man. His life was complex and conflicted, yet he lived simply and persevered.
Dad was ethnic Chinese. He was born in New York but raised by his mother in China. He was unaware of the significance of being an American growing up in China, not imagining he belonged anywhere else. In China, Dad witnessed the horrific loss of life and suffering from the Japanese bombing. When he was 14, Grandmother sent him back to the U.S., at the onset of World War II, for his safety. It was the last time he would see his mother for over 40 years.
When he was old enough, he felt it was his duty to join the U.S. Army Air Corps to defend his countries – America and China. He became an officer and navigator on a B-29 bomber, in one of the first integrated Army Air Corps units. He flew in 36 combat missions and was a decorated war veteran before he graduated from high school.
From Dad’s memoirs:
· My B-29 crew bombed Tokyo five times in the month of May, – twice within 24 hours, Nagoya, Kobe, Oita, and Osaka each twice, and Yokohama, Tachikawa, and many other lesser and defenseless cites and finally Kumagaya, hours before the war ended. We were fortunate not to be among those in the other 231 B-29s that were lost in those missions.
· I have read that there were more ground casualties in the March 9-10 raid on Tokyo than what the atomic bomb did to Hiroshima. It was all the same to the surviving families in Cologne, London, Coventry, Dresden, Nagasaki, Kobe, and other major cities around the world, except some of those were in the Western hemisphere, where their loved ones were killed by fire, explosive, V2 rockets, atomic, or smart bombs.
· I am alive today because 7,000 American marines lost their lives to secure Iwo Jima, solely for the purpose of recovering B-29s running low on fuel or having sustained battle damage preventing them from returning to home base. 20,000 Japanese perished defending Iwo Jima. The families of the American marines and Japanese soldiers grieve for them also. I often query my worthiness of their sacrifice and the painful memory borne by those who suffer their loss.
Dad was haunted by the memory of the lives lost on Iwo Jima that enabled him to survive as his B-29, with two crippled engines, landed on that island. Because so many others made a sacrifice, he had a chance to live a full life. But as a result of the war, he suffered post-traumatic stress disorder and later became 100% hearing disabled.
He wrote: “I have cursed the war for what it has done to my life. I stop to think and ask what my life would have been if the history turned out differently? To be honest about it, beyond surviving, I have benefited from the tragedies that I continue to grieve. I have a good life – better than what my parents had.”
Dad made the most of the opportunity -- going back to school to earn his high school diploma, receiving a bachelors degree in mechanical engineering, reaching the rank of Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force Reserves, marrying Mom, raising a family, earning a law degree while working full time, working as a Deputy Indiana Attorney General past the age of 65, and helping his grand children through college. After retiring, he did free legal work for immigrants, attended classes at the seminary, learned to use a PC, was a substitute teacher, and ran for the school board. He became an advocate for peace. His activities included many projects: a high school essay contest, play, film script, and history of World War II veterans.
Dad loved his grandchildren, Michael Alfred and Christine Marie. In his last week of life, he spoke proudly of Michael’s recent promotion at a large advertising agency and the account he worked on. He carefully told me about Christine’s many caring and sensitive qualities and how they would serve her well in life.
When Michael was in elementary school, Dad had lunch with him one day. I was sitting at another table when I heard a loud pop. The cafeteria went silent. The frowning principal looked over the crowd for the instigator, but no one confessed. I later found out it was Dad who had squeezed a potato chip bag to open it.
Dad served his country, the U.S., but at times suffered from prejudice and discrimination. Although he never felt rejected by the U.S., he never felt fully accepted. He also knew the China of today is not the China he knew growing up, nor a China he helped build. Dad was sensitive and easily hurt by what others would say, but knew it was caused by ignorance, not malice. I hope the fulfillment of Dad’s wish to be buried in Arlington National Cemetery, one of our nation’s most hallowed grounds, will bring him peace as an affirmation that he was accepted and respected by the nation he served. With Dad’s ashes are sand from the beaches of Iwo Jima and soil from the grounds of Tokyo, Guangzhou, Nanjing, Taipei, and Hong Kong.
To my sister Wendy, who he talked so proudly and lovingly about in his last week and who stayed with him in his last 27 hours, thank-you for comforting Dad and giving him peace in your presence. Dad felt your love and loved you so much. Thank-you for loving him and caring for him.
And to my mom, who knew and loved Dad for over 60 years – longer than anyone else – thank-you for loving Dad and our family. The last several years have been difficult, but you have done the best in caring for and loving him. Dad loved you so much.
To my sister Lori, – thank-you for being Dad’s first born – it made my life so much easier. Thank-you for loving Dad. You were the one who most truly understood Dad’s struggles and what he strived to instill in us. You have done a wonderful job documenting his life and helping us to better appreciate our father, with your writings, poems, and film.
