| In the early '90s, a handful of Madison-area middle schools received new names reflecting the diversity of cultural contributions from our corner of the Midwest. To make the gesture personal and meaningful to citizens, the new names were not simply pulled from some stock list of minority celebrities; no obligatory MLK Junior High or Susan B. Anthony Middle School. No, the new names reflected not only political and cultural values, but also geographical ones: Samuel Gompers Middle School dropped the New York union man in favor of Chief Blackhawk, who led a nation of oppressed people through the heart of what would become downtown Madison. Sun Prairie native Georgia O'Keeffe was honored as well, as was still-living Madison veteran Akira Toki. Toki is the only still-living namesake, and the only lifetime resident of Madison. His story is not so well known as the others, perhaps, but it shows a strength of character deserving of wider recognition and reveals something about what has made Madison a special place, even as far back as 65 years ago. At the age of 90, Toki retains a strong recollection of the events surrounding World War II that changed his life and made him a local hero. In 1941, Madison was a much smaller town with a much bigger focus on agriculture, already known as a place to make good on the American dream. Among the countless German and Scandinavian families was one that had perhaps traveled a little further, worked a little harder, and suffered a little more to make their way to the great Midwest: Since 1916, the Tokis had been the only Japanese-American family in Madison, and their only son, Akira, was 25 when war finally spread to America. While across the country Japanese immigrants were being actively sought out, rounded up, and sent to internment camps, the Toki family was protected by their neighbors. The Tokis were well-recognized and valued members of the Madison community, delivering vegetables to the mom-and-pop-style grocery stores of the time and sending their four children to the local two-room Badger School. When the FBI began looking through the neighborhood for suspicious characters, the Tokis received early warning to |
| Akira Toki Why a local school was named after him by Ben Freund |
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| Akira Toki, 90 years old, is a local Madison hero. (Above) He points to the slug that lodged in his skull during the war. |
| keep a low profile at home and for a time, their customers came directly to them to buy produce. When the search was over, the mayor and police chief of Madison held a party to celebrate. Little wonder that with such a strong sense of community, Akira was eager to do his part to fight for his country. But his country was not so eager to have him. After volunteering for service, Toki eventually went to Arkansas for basic training where he met the first other Japanese Americans he had ever known outside his family, boys who had grown up in larger cities out west, some of them in Japanese communities who spoke their parents' native language as fluently as their own. "I didn't know what their feelings were [on the war]," recalls Toki, "My thoughts were like any Caucasian boy's." He would get to know them much better in the next three years. After basic, Caucasian soldiers moved on to specialized training while the Asians did not. Their weapons were taken away and they were shipped off to Illinois to do clerical work and serve as supply sergeants, mess hall staff, and coal stokers. "That used to piss me off!" laughs Toki, "They kept me back there pushing pencils. I griped to the commander and anyone I could!" But the system that was holding Toki and his fellow Japanese Americans back was bigger than any one commander, and Toki would not see active duty until the last months of the war as the need for soldiers to replace the fallen became ever more pressing. When the time came, Toki and his friends finally received their combat training over a year after earning their sergeant's stripes, enjoyed a brief furlough, and were shipped overseas to active combat. Toki arrived in Italy to bolster the decimated ranks of a battalion known as the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, a unit composed entirely of Japanese Americans. As soon as the battalion was back up to strength in personnel, they were shipped out to southern France with inadequate equipment, marched to the front line through rain and snow, and immediately entered combat in one of the most dangerous operations of the war. Under heavy artillery fire (including a round from a tank that neatly decapitated a tree Toki was using for cover), Toki and his company recaptured a hill overlooking the occupied town of Bruyeres and successfully liberated the city. Ten years later, Toki would return with his surviving brothers-in-arms to celebrate the victory, but there was no time to rejoice that October, as the 442nd was immediately called to engage in perhaps its most famous and most costly achievement, the rescue of the "Lost Battalion." The Lost Battalion was composed of 211 surviving members of the 141st Infantry, formerly part of the Texas National Guard, surrounded by German forces in the Vosges mountains. The 442nd spent four days and lost over 800 men before achieving success. Toki's company had been reduced from 200 men to 21, and of his squad, only he and one other soldier had survived the final bayonet charge. Modesty forbids Toki from expressing exactly what he thought when a general arrived to conduct a dress review after the operation and asked, "Where are all the men? On furlough?"/ Toki and the 442nd returned to Italy to once again fill their ranks with fresh soldiers. Perhaps in recognition of their achievements, the battalion received ample supplies of new equipment and Toki himself underwent specialist training in demolitions. But the respite was brief; the 442nd was sent to bolster the all-Black 92nd division on the front lines. The predominance of minority-exclusive units in this story may seem strange, and it should. The 442nd received 9,486 Purple Hearts distributed among 3,000 personnel (Toki earned his for shrapnel embedded in his head during his time with the 92nd), an astonishing number of casualties. This was because the 442nd received more than the usual share of dangerous missions and less than its share of military resources -- it is even suggested that members of the unit's earlier incarnation as the 100th Infantry Battalion were halted 10 miles from Rome so that White soldiers would receive credit for liberating the city. Likewise, the all-Black 92nd occupied one of the most dangerous areas of the front line and was charged with breaking the German line. The 92nd refused to play the sacrificial role, refused to advance, and even began retreat until the all-White 34th was stationed behind them to keep them from falling back further. Toki is ambivalent about the racial overtones of many of the strategic decisions made by his superiors. That race played a role is clear, but for Toki his duty to his country and the larger issues surrounding the war took precedence over the injustice. Toki believed that the cause he was fighting for was paramount, and ultimately his regiment broke the line shortly before the war ended. Toki finally returned home to Madison. He took over the family farm and ran it until 12 years ago when the disappearance of Mom & Pop stores brought an end to his way of doing business. But his life continues to be full of activity. Toki volunteers at the Veteran's Hospital and supports the school that bears his name and others in the area, speaking to students about his experiences. He spends time with his three children, five grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. He has been recognized as a distinguished citizen by Senator Russ Feingold. "I respect Madison and do what I can to help it grow," says Toki. That may not be as exciting as his military achievements, but the results are at least as impressive. |
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