442nd RCT to Celebrate 75th Anniversary of Unit’s Formation

Gwen Fujie
Special to The Hawai‘i Herald

When I was a little girl growing up in newly developed Käne‘ohe, I used to play “army” with the boys in the neighborhood. We would play in our neighbors’ backyards and down the dead-end street (now called a cul-de-sac) that led to the stream where a scary hermit lived, or so we believed. I was the only girl on the street at the time, so the boys always had me play the role of the nurse. I didn’t like that. I wanted to be a soldier. The only time I didn’t mind being the female was when I had my imaginary family and played mamangoto all by myself in a house made of cardboard boxes and those old wooden carpenter’s “horses” in our backyard. I could play there for hours and hours with my dolls and plastic dishes . . . until I heard the boys playing “army” next door. That’s when I would run and get my younger brother’s wooden Davy Crockett rifle and take off to play war.

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