Enduring Trauma: The Forgotten Struggles of Japanese American Veterans
However, their struggles were largely overlooked, and their wounds have since been buried in history. Eighty years on, we continue to examine the enduring impact of war.
In the dense jungle, enemy forces advanced through underground tunnels. "The first two months were the scariest. I knew nothing about war or the battlefield, and I was constantly on edge, never knowing when I might run into the enemy," recalled Takeshi Furumoto, a third-generation Japanese American living in New Jersey. He is now 80 years old.
Fifty years after the end of the Vietnam War (1955–1975), he looked back and revisited his memories from that time. Takeshi Furumoto in New Jersey, US.
Furumoto graduated from university in 1968 and enlisted in the United States Army. In February 1970, he was deployed to the front lines near the Cambodian border as an intelligence officer. His mission was to gather information about enemy movements from local residents.
When he arrived in the villages, however, he often found them deserted, the enemy having already fled. Haunted by unseen foes and gripped by suspicion toward the villagers, he lived in a state of constant tension. Takashi Furumoto serving in the Vietnam War, June 1970.
The guerrilla enemy skillfully lured American soldiers into minefields. Furumoto saw a superior officer ambushed, his leg blown off by a grenade, and comrades gunned down before his eyes.
"I was always on edge, but over time my senses grew numb, and I stopped caring. I just felt empty," he recalled. To strip the jungle of cover, the US military sprayed defoliants from the air, the chemicals falling indiscriminately on both friends and foes.
Furumoto returned home in February 1971, but found it difficult to get along with those around him. Eventually, he left Los Angeles and moved to New Jersey on the East Coast. Unaware of the changes within himself, he had become constantly dissatisfied and quick to anger.
"Before the war, he was an optimistic and compassionate person…" said his wife, Carolyn (77). She also sensed that something had changed in her husband after the war. Takashi Furumoto, appointed a second lieutenant in the US Army Intelligence Division, February 1969.
The siren of the fire truck leaving the station across the street reminded Furumoto of the alarm that blared when rockets were launched at the enemy on the battlefield. Each time it sounded, he would dive under the bed.
It took a long time before it was discovered that the cause of these changes was post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), a condition stemming from the trauma he experienced on the battlefield.
"There still are homeless Vietnam War veterans in Manhattan, New York," Furumoto said. "Without my wife's support, I could have ended up in the same situation."
Furumoto was born in a Japanese American internment camp established by the US government after the outbreak of the war between Japan and the US.
In December 1945, shortly after the atomic bombing, his family relocated to Hiroshima. They returned to the US in 1956, when discrimination against Japanese Americans remained deeply entrenched. Takeshi Furumoto with his wife, Carolyn, on their wedding day in Los Angeles, USA, January 30, 1972.
While many Americans resisted military service, Furumoto chose to enlist, driven by a desire to be recognized as an American. At the time, the Vietnam War became the first conflict to be televised, and the anti-war movement was in full swing.
Like many returning soldiers, Furmoto was deeply wounded by insults hurled at him by those opposed to the war. He was accosted with words like "murderer" and "Why did you come back alive?"
Eventually, with his wife's support, he founded a successful real estate company in 1974. Yet he kept his memories of Vietnam locked away, remaining silent about his experiences.
It wasn't until about 2019, when the New Jersey state government formally recognized his service, that he finally began to open up and share his story from the war.
A medal that Furumoto once felt uneasy displaying hangs in his office. Having been exposed to defoliants, he underwent two heart surgeries and now takes ten different medications.
"For the first time, I felt appreciated and proud to have fought on the battlefield. Fifty years after the war ended, I finally felt like my old self again," Furumoto said.
After losing the Vietnam War, his homeland, the United States, sought to forget that difficult era.
Meanwhile, in postwar Japan, values shifted dramatically, and the topic of war became taboo. Reflecting on his own experiences, Furumoto also contemplated his connection to his other homeland, Japan.
"What hurt the most was that even though we fought for our country, society criticized us. I believe Japanese soldiers felt that pain, too," he said.
Author: Shoko Ikeda, Eriko Ogawa, The Sankei Shimbun
(Read this in Japanese )
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Enduring Trauma: The Forgotten Struggles of Japanese American Veterans
The trauma or psychological scars soldiers carry from the battlefield can haunt them long after the fighting ends. Some Japanese soldiers who fought in the last war also suffered from mental illness. However, their struggles were largely overlooked, and their wounds have since been buried in history. Eighty years on, we continue to examine the enduring impact of war. In the dense jungle, enemy forces advanced through underground tunnels. "The first two months were the scariest. I knew nothing about war or the battlefield, and I was constantly on edge, never knowing when I might run into the enemy," recalled Takeshi Furumoto, a third-generation Japanese American living in New Jersey. He is now 80 years old. Fifty years after the end of the Vietnam War (1955–1975), he looked back and revisited his memories from that time. Takeshi Furumoto in New Jersey, US. Furumoto graduated from university in 1968 and enlisted in the United States Army. In February 1970, he was deployed to the front lines near the Cambodian border as an intelligence officer. His mission was to gather information about enemy movements from local residents. When he arrived in the villages, however, he often found them deserted, the enemy having already fled. Haunted by unseen foes and gripped by suspicion toward the villagers, he lived in a state of constant tension. Takashi Furumoto serving in the Vietnam War, June 1970. The guerrilla enemy skillfully lured American soldiers into minefields. Furumoto saw a superior officer ambushed, his leg blown off by a grenade, and comrades gunned down before his eyes. "I was always on edge, but over time my senses grew numb, and I stopped caring. I just felt empty," he recalled. To strip the jungle of cover, the US military sprayed defoliants from the air, the chemicals falling indiscriminately on both friends and foes. Furumoto returned home in February 1971, but found it difficult to get along with those around him. Eventually, he left Los Angeles and moved to New Jersey on the East Coast. Unaware of the changes within himself, he had become constantly dissatisfied and quick to anger. "Before the war, he was an optimistic and compassionate person…" said his wife, Carolyn (77). She also sensed that something had changed in her husband after the war. Takashi Furumoto, appointed a second lieutenant in the US Army Intelligence Division, February 1969. The siren of the fire truck leaving the station across the street reminded Furumoto of the alarm that blared when rockets were launched at the enemy on the battlefield. Each time it sounded, he would dive under the bed. It took a long time before it was discovered that the cause of these changes was post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), a condition stemming from the trauma he experienced on the battlefield. "There still are homeless Vietnam War veterans in Manhattan, New York," Furumoto said. "Without my wife's support, I could have ended up in the same situation." Furumoto was born in a Japanese American internment camp established by the US government after the outbreak of the war between Japan and the US. In December 1945, shortly after the atomic bombing, his family relocated to Hiroshima. They returned to the US in 1956, when discrimination against Japanese Americans remained deeply entrenched. Takeshi Furumoto with his wife, Carolyn, on their wedding day in Los Angeles, USA, January 30, 1972. While many Americans resisted military service, Furumoto chose to enlist, driven by a desire to be recognized as an American. At the time, the Vietnam War became the first conflict to be televised, and the anti-war movement was in full swing. Like many returning soldiers, Furmoto was deeply wounded by insults hurled at him by those opposed to the war. He was accosted with words like "murderer" and "Why did you come back alive?" Eventually, with his wife's support, he founded a successful real estate company in 1974. Yet he kept his memories of Vietnam locked away, remaining silent about his experiences. It wasn't until about 2019, when the New Jersey state government formally recognized his service, that he finally began to open up and share his story from the war. A medal that Furumoto once felt uneasy displaying hangs in his office. Having been exposed to defoliants, he underwent two heart surgeries and now takes ten different medications. "For the first time, I felt appreciated and proud to have fought on the battlefield. Fifty years after the war ended, I finally felt like my old self again," Furumoto said. After losing the Vietnam War, his homeland, the United States, sought to forget that difficult era. Meanwhile, in postwar Japan, values shifted dramatically, and the topic of war became taboo. Reflecting on his own experiences, Furumoto also contemplated his connection to his other homeland, Japan. "What hurt the most was that even though we fought for our country, society criticized us. I believe Japanese soldiers felt that pain, too," he said. Author: Shoko Ikeda, Eriko Ogawa, The Sankei Shimbun (Read this in Japanese )
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