Facing the Mountain

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A NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER
One of NPR’s “Books We Love” of 2021
Longlisted for the PEN/Jacqueline Bograd Weld Award for Biography 

Winner of the Christopher Award 
 
“Masterly. An epic story of four Japanese-American families and their sons who volunteered for military service and displayed uncommon heroism… Propulsive and gripping, in part because of Mr. Brown’s ability to make us care deeply about the fates of these individual soldiers…a page-turner.” – Wall Street Journal

From the #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Boys in the Boat, a gripping World War II saga of patriotism and resistance, focusing on four Japanese American men and their families, and the contributions and sacrifices that they made for the sake of the nation.

In the days and months after Pearl Harbor, the lives of Japanese Americans across the continent and Hawaii were changed forever. In this unforgettable chronicle of war-time America and the battlefields of Europe, Daniel James Brown portrays the journey of Rudy Tokiwa, Fred Shiosaki, and Kats Miho, who volunteered for the 442nd Regimental Combat Team and were deployed to France, Germany, and Italy, where they were asked to do the near impossible. Brown also tells the story of these soldiers’ parents, immigrants who were forced to submit to life in concentration camps on U.S. soil. Woven throughout is the chronicle of Gordon Hirabayashi, one of a cadre of patriotic resisters who stood up against their government in defense of their own rights. Whether fighting on battlefields or in courtrooms, these were Americans under unprecedented strain, doing what Americans do best—striving, resisting, pushing back, rising up, standing on principle, laying down their lives, and enduring.One of Slate‘s “Father’s Day Gifts for Even the Hardest-to-Buy-for Dad”

“The story of the fearless men of the 442nd Regiment feels especially relevant, with Asian Americans once again under attack.”—New York Post

“Facing the Mountain is more than just the story of a group of young men whose valor helped save a country that spurned them, it’s a fascinating, expertly written look at selfless heroes who emerged from one of the darkest periods of American history — soldiers the likes of which this country may never see again.”—NPR.org
 
“Masterly… An epic story of four Japanese-American families and their sons who volunteered for military service and displayed uncommon heroism and grit to serve their country… propulsive and gripping read… it’s a page-turner—a testament to Mr. Brown’s storytelling gifts.”—Wall Street Journal

“Brown combines history with humanity in a tense, tender and well-researched study of the lives disrupted and disregarded by misperceptions and misinformation. Facing the Mountain is  ‘not a story about victims,’ as Brown writes. Rather, ‘It’s a story of victors, of people striving, resisting, rising up, standing on principle, laying down their lives, enduring and prevailing.”—San Francisco Chronicle

“Facing the Mountain… promises the story of the legendary 442nd Infantry Regiment during World War II. It delivers much more…Daniel James Brown shows us what America looks like to an immigrant or member of an ethnic minority….Brown’s vivid narrative tells a more important story about heroism and sacrifice, one that should be read by anyone who hopes to understand more about ‘the greatest generation’ and American history”—Army Magazine

“This is a masterwork of American history that will change the way we look at World War II. You don’t just read a Daniel James Brown story—you go there. Facing the Mountain is lump-in-the-throat territory, page after page.”—Adam Makos, author of A Higher Call
 
“Daniel James Brown has a way of wrapping himself around a big and complicated subject with such subtlety and grace that we don’t at first realize how fast the pages are turning, or how much fascinating material we’ve absorbed. In Facing the Mountain, all the skills of this master storyteller are once again on display, as he surely leads us to the emotional heart of a fraught and sprawling World War II story most of us knew nothing about.” —Hampton Sides, NYT bestselling author of Ghost Soldiers and On Desperate Ground

“The loyal and often heroic service of Japanese American soldiers is one of history’s most inspiring responses to bigotry and oppression.  Daniel James Brown brilliantly pairs these events in an epic of courage and resistance.”—David Laskin, author of The Long Way Home

 “Facing the Mountain proves that the savagery of war isn’t restricted to foreign battlefields. Many went to war – those who remained incarcerated endured the wrath of their fellow countrymen.  It is said that to be an American we should strive to live life worthy of the sacrifices of those who came before us. Our bearing with each other is dependent on it.”
—Lt Col Michael J. Yaguchi, USAF (ret), Commander, Nisei Veterans Committee
 
“Daniel James Brown has done it again.  HIs rich, nuanced recreation of the dark years when thousands of our fellow citizens were incarcerated because of their ancestry is a must-read contribution to the history of the 20th century. It’s also uplifting. I’ll never look at the World War II story in the same light.”—Timothy Egan, author of The Worst Hard Time
 
“A must-read. You will not be able to put it down.”—Scott Oki, former VP Microsoft, Founder, Densho
 
“Facing the Mountain arrives at the perfect time, to remind us of the true meaning of patriotism. In Daniel James Brown’s gifted hands, these overlooked American heroes are getting the glory they deserve. Read this book and know their stories.”—Mitchell Zuckoff, author of Lost in Shangri-La

“Daniel James Brown brings to life the gripping true story of Japanese Americans whose steely heroism fought Nazism abroad and racism at home.  Bound by Japanese values of filial piety, giri (social obligation) and gaman (endurance) and forged in the crucible of brutal combat, the soldiers served the very country that locked their families in American concentration camps for no crime other than looking like the enemy while camp resisters fought for justice denied.”—Lori L. Matsukawa, News anchor, KING TV, Seattle
 
“This book’s breadth and depth are unparalleled as it poignantly traces the Japanese American thread in the rich fabric of America.  We meet compelling individuals, witness war’s horrors and celebrate moments of triumph of the human spirit.  The author vividly describes communities confronting prejudice with resilience and patriotism, surviving and ultimately having the opportunity to thrive.”—Terry Shima, T/4, 442nd Regimental Combat Team

“Riveting. Facing the Mountain is a book that is as much about the present as it is about the past. In it are vital lessons about courage, truth, justice, and an abiding love of country. Drawing on impeccable historic research, the narrative movingly shines the light of history on prejudice and discrimination and the unfinished struggle for a more just future.”—Ann Burroughs, President & CEO,  Japanese American National Museum

“Brown chronicles in this this bravura account the experiences of Japanese American soldiers and their families during WWII. . . . The result is an illuminating and spirited portrait of courage under fire.”—Publishers Weekly, starred review
 
“A deep and richly detailed examination of indelible decisions and events that tarnished the legacy of America’s role in WWII, the internment of Japanese Americans. . . . A compelling and impressively redefining work on an often over-simplified and always consequential subject. . . . This should also be read by all who are pondering the true meaning of patriotism.”—Booklist, starred reviewDaniel James Brown is the author of The Indifferent Stars Above and Under a Flaming Sky, which was a finalist for the B&N Discover Great New Writers Award, as well as The Boys in the Boat, a New York Times bestselling book that was awarded the ALA’s Andrew Carnegie Medal for Excellence in Nonfiction. He has taught writing at San José State University and Stanford University. He lives outside Seattle.

1. The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, shocked Americans of all creeds and ethnic backgrounds. Almost universally, Americans understood that America’s entry into the war was now inevitable and that as a consequence their day-to-day lives were about to change in large but unpredictable ways.

How do you think Japanese Americans’ experience of the attack might have differed from the rest of the American population? How might it have differed from the experience of German Americans and Italian Americans? In what ways do you think most Americans’ reactions to the attack might have been similar or dissimilar to their reactions to the September 1, 2001, attack on the Twin Towers in New York? In what way might Muslim Americans in particular have experienced the 9/11 attack and its aftermath differently from other Americans?

2. In Hawaii, Kats Miho grew up in a racially stratified society that severely limited opportunities for Asian immigrants and their American children. Hawaii’s plantation system, in particular, allowed a few families to control the lives and livelihoods of many thousands of immigrants who worked in the cane fields. Similarly, the Shiosaki, Tokiwa, and Hirabayashi families faced systemic anti-Asian discrimination that prevented them from owning land, using certain public facilities, and fully participating in American life.

In what ways do immigrants from other parts of the world face similar obstacles in the United States today? To what extent do Asian immigrants and their descendants, in particular, still face prejudices and obstacles today?

3. When Kats Miho and the other Japanese American members of the Hawai‘i Territorial Guard were told they could no long serve in the unit, many of them were reduced to tears.

Why do you think they had such a strong emotional response to being removed from the unit? How do you think you might have reacted under similar circumstances?

4.  One of the central themes of Facing the Mountain is the universal importance of home—the consequences of losing one’s home, the human need to create a sense of home wherever one must live, the drive to return home when far away from it.

In what specific ways do these concerns with home play out in the lives of the book’s four principal protagonists—Kats Miho, Fred Shiosaki, Rudy Tokiwa, and Gordon Hirabayashi? What role does home—the loss of it, the need to create it, the drive to return to it—play in the lives of each of them?

5. As is often the case with immigrants from various parts of the world, the attitudes and values of the first generation of Japanese immigrants to arrive in America often come in conflict with the attitudes and values of their American children.

How and where do these conflicts show up in Facing the Mountain? What roles do they play in shaping the events the story chronicles? Do the same dynamics play a role in your own family history or the family histories of your friends and acquittances?

6. In a similar vein, the beliefs, traditions, and values of immigrants sometimes work their way into the mainstream of American thought and strengthen our institutions and manner of living in novel ways.

What traditional Japanese beliefs, values, or attitudes, if any, did Kats, Fred, Rudy, and Gordon carry into the war and into their lives that made them better soldiers and citizens?

7. Gordon Hirabayashi’s actions in response to the curfew imposed on Japanese Americans, as well as in response to the incarceration of West Coast Japanese Americans in camps, stand in stark relief to the actions taken by Kats, Fred, and Rudy. Gordon felt it was imperative to resist the government’s actions through civil disobedience. The other three felt it was imperative to join the military, in large part to prove their loyalty to America.

Which kind of reaction was “right”? Is it possible that both were morally correct? Which was more courageous? Is it possible that both were courageous? If you had been a young Japanese American man in the early 1940s, what would you have done? Would it have made a difference if your family was one of those incarcerated in a camp?

8. The Japanese American families forced from their homes were only allowed to bring with them whatever they could carry to the buses that transported them to “assembly centers.” In most cases, this meant abandoning many of their most precious possessions as well as walking away from the source of their livelihoods.

Looking around your home, what would you have taken to camp with you? What would you have done with any family pets? With your car? With your family heirlooms? With your business interests? How would you have explained to your children what was happening? What would you have done about any family members with special needs?

9. In 1942 the government argued that military necessity justified forcibly removing Japanese Americans from their homes despite the fact that no cases of disloyalty or sabotage on the part of these citizens were ever documented. For the most part, the non-Japanese citizenry of the United States supported the government’s actions.

If the circumstances were the same today, do you believe the American public would again support incarcerating Americans of Japanese ancestry? Americans of other ancestries? If not, what has changed?

10. Life at Poston—and at all the camps run by the War Relocation Authority—was bleak, uncomfortable, and boring at best. It also disrupted family life, demoralized breadwinners, and undermined traditional norms.

How do you think your family would have dealt with camp life?

11. Much of the conflict between the “kotonks” and “Buddhaheads” at Camp Shelby came down to misunderstandings—both sides misinterpreting the other’s motives and essential characters. More than anything else, the two groups’ different ways of speaking sparked these misunderstandings.

Can you think of groups you have encountered who speak in a different manner than your own and how that might have shaded your or other people’s impressions of them? To what extent do we all judge people generally on how “proper” their manner of speaking is?

12. Gordon Hirabayashi’s first act of civil disobedience was to defy a curfew for people of Japanese ancestry. Most Japanese Americans and their Japanese parents obeyed the curfew dutifully.

If a curfew was imposed only on people of your ethnic identity, would you obey it? If your government argued that your ethnic group posed a national security threat, would that make a difference? Would you risk going to jail for an indeterminate amount of time if that was the consequence of defying the curfew?

13. Many of the Nisei soldiers carried mementos, good luck charms, and other highly personal items into battle with them. Rudy carried a single grain of brown rice his mother had given him. Sus Ito carried a traditional warrior’s sash—a senninbari. Others carried photographs, letters, and Bibles.

What might you bring with you under similar circumstances?

14. Some of the Nisei soldiers attributed the outstanding battle performance of the 442nd and the 100th to traditional Japanese values that they had learned from their parents.

What might some of those values be? Can you think of values and traditions that American soldiers from other ethnic backgrounds might also have drawn on in battles during World War II?

15. Both Fred Shiosaki and Rudy Tokiwa at different times during the war wrestled with the morality of taking another man’s life. Fred contemplated shooting a prisoner in cold blood. Rudy worried that he might become less than human. Chaplain Higuchi agonized over what to tell soldiers with the same qualms. And recent research indicates that it is the taking of another person’s life, not the fear of losing one’s own life, that is most likely to cause soldiers PTSD later in life.

How do you think you might cope with killing an enemy soldier? What kinds of circumstances might make it easier or more difficult? Can you imagine any circumstances in which you might kill an unarmed prisoner? Any circumstances when you might refuse a direct order to kill an enemy soldier?

16. Many of the young Japanese American men who resisted the draft refused to serve so long as their parents and family members were incarcerated in the camps.

In your opinion, was this a reasonable stance to take?

17. During the war, within the Japanese American community, there was a great deal of controversy over those who refused to serve. In recent years the resisters have come to be seen in a much more positive light—even heroic—by many Japanese Americans, as well as by others who are concerned with matters of social and racial equity.

What do you think the legacy of the resisters is?

18. In a similar vein, the young men who joined the 442nd and the 100th were inarguably courageous as demonstrated by their extraordinary battle record throughout the war, the number of casualties they took, and the number of awards that were eventually conferred on them.

But does courage have other dimensions? What about the actions of someone like Gordon Hirabayashi? How does his courage in violating the curfew and refusing to be incarcerated in a camp stack up against the courage of the Nisei soldiers who served in Europe?

Just before dawn on the morning of October 18, Fred Shiosaki crawled out of a dank pup tent, strapped a mortar tube on his back, grabbed his rifle, and began to walk toward the battle. With the other two battalions still fighting for control of the hills around town, Colonel Pence had ordered the Third Battalion to make a frontal attack on the German forces in Bruyères, liberate the town, and then advance toward the village of Belmont to the northeast. George “Montana” Oiye hoisted a carbine and fell in alongside Fred. He’d been temporarily assigned to K Company to serve as their forward observer in the event that they needed artillery support from the 522nd while making their assault.
 
 
As K Company spread out, moving through dense stands of pine, the sounds of the battle ahead of them were oddly muffled. A thick gray fog made it hard to see more than a dozen yards in any direction. Fred’s breath issued forth in small white clouds. His footfall was nearly inaudible, softened by thick piles of wet moss on the forest floor. The moss worried Fred. He had been warned that the Germans had hidden hundreds of Bouncing Betty mines in the stuff, and he feared those almost as much as he feared the deadly 88-millimeter shells that he knew might come shrieking at them out of the fog at any minute.
 
 
But when K Company finally emerged from the woods and entered the
flatter, more open terrain immediately in front of the town, everything around them seemed to explode. The roar of the battle engulfed them. Fred stumbled forward over muddy furrows in an open field. Bullets whipped by on both sides of him. Incoming shells whistled over his head. Columns of black earth and fractured yellow stone erupted in front of him and behind him.  Wounded horses in a nearby barn screamed. Searing-hot shards of shrapnel flew in all directions, making weird fluttering sounds. The smell of explosives and diesel and mud and blood
filled the air.
 
 
Fred and the men near him dropped and began to crawl forward on their bellies as streams of machine gun fire poured from the windows of nearby farmhouses and machine-gun nests hidden behind stone garden walls. But returning the fire, lobbing mortars at the buildings, firing bazookas, and throwing hand grenades, K Company kept moving forward, assaulting each machine-gun nest in turn, concentrating their fire on it until it was silenced, then moving on to the next.
 
On the outskirts of town, they came across a wide bend in a road. Sergeant George Iwamoto, squad leader and one of Fred’s closest friends—a kotonk through and through, a kindred spirit from the east- ern side of Washington State—raised his hand to pause his men and get their attention. He didn’t like the looks of the place. He wanted them out of there as quickly as possible. He stood up, started waving his hands, bellowing, “Come on, you guys, come on!” urging them to cross the road quickly. Fred hunched over and ran for it. He made it across. They all did—except one. Just as Iwamoto began to follow the last of his men across, a shell landed right behind him, hurling him forward a dozen feet, shattering his spine, paralyzing him from the waist down. Seeing his friend there, sprawled out on the road in the rain, bloodied, desperately trying to crawl forward, dragging his legs, helpless, Fred felt suddenly and overwhelmingly sick to his stomach. For a moment, he closed his eyes and slumped against a stone wall. Like everyone else, he wanted to turn and run from this place, from the horror. Like everyone else, he didn’t. A medic dragged Iwamoto off the road. The rest of them got up
and moved on.
 
At the entrance to the town itself, they faced a barricade—a road- block built of enormous logs, timbers, and boulders that the Germans had chained together and intertwined with land mines and booby traps in order to block one of Bruyères’s main streets. George Oiye got on a field phone and called up the Fire Direction Center. A few minutes later the 522nd, still several miles to the east, dropped a shell precisely onto the barricade. Gravel and dirt flew in all directions, but the effect was mostly to rearrange the tangle of obstacles into an even more imposing jumble of wood, stone, and explosives. Finally, with German snipers firing on them from nearby houses, engineers from the 442nd’s Combat Engineer Company crept forward, wrapped explosive Primacord around the larger obstacles, and blew them far enough apart to allow men, jeeps, and half-tracks to start snaking their way into the center of the town.
 
Fred advanced cautiously, crouching, running from one doorway to the next as K Company worked its way down a narrow street. Lobbing grenades, knocking down doors, racing to rooftops, clearing houses, the Nisei gradually drove the Germans out of town. By early evening, most of Bruyères was theirs, though occasional German shells and mortar rounds continued to fall in the streets as a furious battle for the high ground raged on just to the east. The streets were littered with the detritus of war—slate roof tiles, bricks, piles of stone and mortar, burned-out vehicles, here and there a dead German in a bloodied gray uniform lying in the street or a charred, contorted corpse sitting in a burned-out half-track. The smell of powder lingered in the air, along with a whiff of singed flesh and death.
 
But then, one by one, Fred noticed flags emerging from upstairs windows—French flags and the Croix de Lorraine, the emblem of the French resistance. The people of Bruyères, peering out from their hiding places, seeing American jeeps and tanks entering the village, began pouring out into the rainy and rubble-strewn streets. Confused at first, seeing Asian faces, they exclaimed, “Chinois! Chinois!” The Nisei, pointing to their uniforms, tried to explain. “No, no, Americans. Japanese Americans!” “Japonais!” The French looked at one another, clearly baffled, but nobody really cared. Young women, old men, children, utter strangers, ran to the men, embraced them, kissed them on both cheeks. Old men brought out bottles of wine and strings of sausages and offered them to their liberators, patting them on the back. Children flocked around the Americans cheering, shouting things in French the men mostly could not understand except for the one word, over and over, “Merci, merci, merci!” Fred dug a chocolate bar out of his kit, broke it into bits, and handed them to the kids.
 
Then he moved on, making his way toward the southwestern side of town, bullets from a sniper up in the hills still occasionally whipping by, ricocheting off stone walls. But the civilians kept coming out. Fred rounded a corner and came upon an old lady grinning, standing in a pile of rubble next to a collapsed soda-pop warehouse, handing bottles of pop to the men as they hurried past. Around another corner a middle-aged woman waved at them and began vigorously sweeping battle debris from the street, even as artillery shells whistled overhead. She swept with such cheerful enthusiasm that to George Oiye it seemed as if she were trying to sweep away the war itself.
 
As evening settled in and the town darkened, the Nisei consolidated their hold on Bruyères, and the mood of the civilians seemed to shift. Fred heard loud, shrill voices. The French began dragging certain people out into the street, mostly women who had consorted with German soldiers, but men, too—anyone who had been too helpful to the Germans. Crowds gathered around. They beat the men, pummeling them with fists and broomsticks. They stripped the women naked, shaved their heads, and then ran them through the streets in the rain, jeering, spitting at them, hurling insults and trash at them—potato peels and rotten vegetables and offal—as the women ducked and dodged and tried desperately to hide their nakedness. Fred watched impassively. This wasn’t for him to judge, he figured.
 
 
 
Over the next few days, K Company left Bruyères behind them and slowly inched deeper into the Vosges itself. At the same time, slightly to the rear of K Company, in the midst of a bloody battle raging on Hill D, F Company’s technical sergeant, Abraham Ohama, walked forward under a white flag, attempting to recover a wounded comrade. German forces, disregarding the flag, opened fire and wounded Ohama. When Nisei litter bearers tried to remove the two wounded men from the field, the Germans opened fire on them as well, killing Ohama as he lay help- less on a stretcher. Seeing this, and infuriated, the men of F Company, nearly two hundred of them, rose spontaneously and charged. They plunged into the German lines so suddenly and unexpectedly that many of the Germans didn’t even have time to return fire. As the Nisei over-whelmed their position, dozens of German boys—some just sixteen or seventeen—cowered in their foxholes, throwing their arms in the air, so scared that the Nisei had to reach down and drag them out in order to take them prisoner. Others fell to their knees, crying, begging for their lives. When it was over, eighty-seven German troops were dead, dozens more wounded.
 
At a railway embankment east of town, K Company and much of the Third Battalion got bogged down for hours, until the 522nd laid down a long, sustained, thundering barrage that went on for twenty straight minutes, pounding the embankment and the ground immediately behind it. For a few moments after the last shell fell, there was dead silence but for the hissing of rainfall. The smells of powder and wet earth drifted over the men. Fred, crouching in a foxhole, peered through the rain and drifting smoke and saw the Germans finally falling away to the east beyond the tracks. K Company rose to their feet and scrambled across what was left of the railroad embankment.
 
Beyond the twisted rails and craters and mounds of scattered gravel, they moved cautiously forward across muddy and heavily mined fields. Approaching some densely wooded hills, K Company’s sergeant James Oura spotted what appeared to be a high-ranking German officer emerging from a line of trees ahead, walking toward them, apparently un- aware of their presence. Motioning his men down, holding his fire until the man was well within range, Oura rose and dropped him with a burst of fire from his BAR. When they got to his body, K Company found maps indicating the disposition of enemy troops throughout the hills in front of them. This was an unexpected windfall, and they needed to capitalize on it quickly. Rudy Tokiwa headed back to the regimental command post at a lope, clutching the maps.
 
Within an hour, Major Emmet O’Connor had studied the captured maps and launched a special task force to take advantage of the intelligence it represented. That night, as the rest of the regiment continued crawling forward, O’Connor and his task force slipped through enemy lines and made their way along a forested ridge well ahead of the Third Battalion’s position. By dawn on October 21, they had outflanked the enemy, circled back, and occupied a vantage point from which they could see a large concentration of German forces in and around a cluster of houses in a clearing, just where the maps had indicated they would be. Crouching in the woods, Lieutenant Al Biondi and George Oiye began quietly calling in coordinates. A few minutes later, the 522nd un-leashed their howitzers—the shells again timed to arrive all at the same moment—and the houses disappeared in an eruption of fire, earth, and smoke. Eighty Germans were killed outright, another sixty wounded. O’Connor’s task force swept down on the astonished survivors from their rear as K and I Companies surged forward from their front. By noon the Nisei had seized the entire sector, taking fifty-four prisoners, the only Germans left alive in the vicinity.
 
As Rudy made his way back to the battalion’s command post to report the successful completion of the maneuver to Pursall, K Company’s medic, James Okubo, stopped him.
 
“Hey, Punch Drunk, when you came through, you see . . . dead Germans out there.”
 
“Yeah.”
 
“You see any of ’em alive?”
 
Rudy shrugged and said, “I don’t know. I never look.”
 
Okubo had been up all night tending to the wounded, but now he wanted to see if there were wounded Germans still out on the field.
 
“Aw, you know I can’t carry a rifle. Will you go with me?”
 
Rudy shrugged again, but he picked up a Thompson submachine gun and led Okubo into the hills. The two men began to sort through a pile of German dead and eventually found one boy who was still alive. Okubo patched him up as best he could, and the two of them carried him back to an American aid station. There, Okubo turned to Rudy and said, “I hope you don’t get mad at me now.”
 
Rudy replied that he was glad they’d helped the boy. But the truth was, it seemed odd to him, after he and his guys had spent so much time trying to kill Germans, to be trying to save one. It wasn’t really that he objected. He just didn’t particularly care one way or another. But it got him to thinking about something he’d pondered more and more, something that had been eating at him ever since he’d shot that German soldier carrying photos of his children his first day in battle. “I wonder,” he thought, “when I get out of this, if I do, whether I’ll be a human being.”
 
That night, exhausted, the young men of K Company tried to hunker down and finally catch some sleep, sliding into slit trenches the Germans had dug or craters left by their own artillery shells. By now both the trenches and the craters were half-full of cold, muddy water, but many of the men were beyond caring about that. They just lay against muddy walls, closed their eyes, and let their feet and legs soak. A few chose to lie out in the open instead, despite the possibility that shells might at any moment begin dropping among them again. Fred lay in one of the trenches, his eyeglasses smeared with mud, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. The worst of it, though, was that his feet ached terribly. He lifted a foot out of the water, pulled off one of his boots and a soggy sock, and noted that the foot was turning an odd shade of purple, the beginnings of trench foot, the slow, agonizing death of the nerves and tissues in his feet.
 
Nobody really slept that night. When morning finally came, gray and wet and cold, they got up and pushed on to the northeast. They were entering increasingly rugged terrain now, steeper hills cloaked in dark forests, advancing into the face of periodic artillery barrages, blistering fire from German tanks mounted with 88s, the howling Nebel-werfer rockets they called screaming meemies, and the growling of German burp guns. For two more days and two more nights, they just kept moving forward, yard by yard, under fire almost continuously, with nothing to eat but cold K rations, nowhere to sleep but in the mud. And still the rain kept falling.
 
By late on October 24, the 442nd had taken control of the villages of Belmont and Biffontaine and pushed the Germans deeper into the Vosges. K Company had now been on the battlefield for seven days and nights. Some units had been out eight days. Finally, that afternoon, as the sun finally broke through, two Texas units—the 141st and 143rd Infantry Regiments—began moving up through the 442nd’s lines to relieve them.US