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Asia Japan New Guinea The Admiralty Islands The Philippines

The Sometimes Perilous, Sometimes Hilarious WWII Adventures of my Grandfather



It’s with a heavy heart that I write this, as my grandfather died yesterday and this weekend my family will say goodbye at a memorial service and burial. He died of pneumonia at UNC Hospital today at the age of 90. Despite our sadness, I can’t think of a better example of a person who deserves to have their life celebrated. He accomplished so much, and yet I never think of him in terms of his accomplishments, only in terms of his flawless sense of humor, cheerful attitude, and killer charisma. Well into his late 80s, he still spoke and joked with such a childish charm. Even when talking about the war, he found a way to focus on the positive and the funny instead of the violence and sadness.

My grandfather joined the war when he was 17. All I did at 17 was apply for college and drive my little blue Mazda around Hillsborough while gossiping with Rachel and Kelly about boys. But there he went, off to join the American troops as a radio operator in the First Cavalry Division, island hopping in the Pacific, always at a close proximity to the legendary General MacArthur.

I grew up hearing these stories from time to time. He’d share a short one over lunch one day, another while driving in the car the next. After he was hospitalized in 2014, I decided to sit down with him for a few hours and record his tales so my family could remember not only his stories, but the charismatic way in which he told them.

I’ve added them below, edited into chapters ranging from 3 minutes to 16 minutes in length. It’s neither my best video footage, audio, or editing, but I believe he makes up in content what I lack in technical and artistic skills:

Chapter One: My grandfather convinces his father to let him join the US in their WWII involvement. He is selected as a radio operator for the First Cavalry Division and trains at Fort Riley, Kansas. Some highlights include him learning how to clean his horse, and shipping out from California on a ship reported sunk.

Chapter Two: My grandfather starts in New Guinea, before moving to the Admiralty Islands, and then invading the Island of Leyte. Some of my favorite highlights include him stealing a gun and riding a sea turtle.

Chapter Three: My grandfather faints on Leyte and wakes up in Manila

Chapter Four: My grandfather takes part in the occupation in Japan. He talks about practicing English with the locals and his uncomfortable patrols of the island.

Other: Additionally, throughout our conversations, my grandfather spoke some about horses in various battles. As these thoughts came to him randomly and out of chronologically order, I added them together as a bit of an afterthought.

I also took the liberty of asking him about his father, a WWI veteran. While I never met my great-grandfather, and though the video is quite short, I thought I could gather some new information on my family history.

Asia India

Big Fat Punjabi Wedding

I met Happie over the summer quite accidentally. A group of Americans plopped down in the middle of my “not so foreigner filled” city (Chandigarh, for anyone not paying attention) for an intensive Punjabi language course. Most of these were college students on scholarship. They only stayed 8 weeks. At the end of their course, I hosted a girl, Morgan, since her sponsored housing had run out. It was through her that I met Happie, the Punjabi language teacher of the course. She was just as her name might imply- happy, cute, and fun.

So in late November, I woke up early in the morning and caught a 6am bus to Faridkot, a town in Punjabi near the Pakistani boarder. If you haven’t heard of it, no worries, I couldn’t even pronounce it correctly when I got to the bus station. Four hours later, Happie’s brother picked me up and drove me to her house, a two-story farmhouse. I met some of Happie’s friends from college, friends from Faridkot, and her family. Then the craziness of all the activities began.

Day 1:
Morning: Happie showed me some of her engagement photos with her future husband (they both looked really beautiful, like Bollywood stars or something). She said she had deferred taking more photos until after the wedding because she didn’t feel comfortable with him yet. It was interesting to me how completely calm she was. She had only met him once before (he lives in Canada; she’d been skyping with him for almost a year) but only once very calmly said, “I’m a bit nervous. I don’t really know him.” This seemed to fall in stark contrast to my American friend who recently married her boyfriend of four years (whom she lives with) and was a wreck of nerves before her wedding.

Afternoon: Mehndi (henna) session on Happie’s patio consisting of Happie’s friend and two other girls doing everyone’s mehndi while we drank chai and chatted. Since I had broken my arm three days prior, I only got mehndi on one hand. Happie, as the bride, had incredibly elaborate designs. Her friend produced some eeriously impressive artwork on both her hands and feet. I was sort of jealous of how ornate her mehndi was that I briefly contemplated marrying some random Punjabi man just so he could get a green card and I could have pretty mehndi on my wedding day.Mehndi Wedding

Mehndi Wedding

Ultimately, I decided a lifetime of marriage wasn’t worth a day of pretty hands and feet. But the mehndi session was quite fun.

Mehndi Wedding

Early Evening: The photographer took photos of all the girls out in the field.

Punjabi Wedding

Punjabi Wedding

Some of the older women had gathered in the same patio area and were singing together (then one woman would come forward and sing a line or two by herself while everyone kept clapping). Someone explained to me they were singing “marriage advice” to Happie but funny advice. I think an English equivalent would be something like, “Sure you’ll love marriage when you’re on the beach on your honeymoon but just wait until five years of cleaning up his toenail clippings.” (No one said this specifically in Punjabi but I think that was the kind of advice being given). All in good jest, of course.

Evening: I changed into one of my “suits” and met some more of Happie’s friends from Faridkot. We talked inside for awhile before walking around to the back of her house where a large fancy tent was set up, fully furnished with a buffet-style bar, dance floor, speakers, and DJ. We ate and then started dancing.
Everyone danced, even the oldest women (actually, they were the ones who would make you stand up again if you sat down). Some of the older men would throw stacks of ten rupee notes into the air and then hired help would scurry around people’s feet collecting the notes. Then, they started firing guns out in the farm. Punjabi Wedding

Punjabi Wedding

Punjabi Wedding

Punjabi Wedding

Night: Close to midnight, the family decided to do a tradition (I don’t know the name) in which they cover the bride in turmeric. Turmeric is related to ginger and is usually found as a bright yellow powder. Traditionally, it is used by Indian brides before the wedding to make their skin take on a golden glow. That night we all gathered around Happie on the patio and took turns rubbing a turmeric paste on her face and putting a little oil in her hair. I think this tradition was supposed to be done at 4am before the wedding but I guess since everyone was already at the house, doing it around midnight worked better.


Punjabi Wedding

I’ve actually used turmeric paste before. It’s good for psoriasis but stains your skin yellow. Apparently it looks much better on the ‘wheatish’ Indian complexion than on Caucasian skin. While Happie looked beautiful after her turmeric treatment, I never developed the “golden glow”, just an awkward Simpsons’ yellow.

Punjabi Wedding
Happie all cleaned up

Night continued: It was fun seeing everyone getting ready for bed. Mattresses covered almost every inch of the foyer area for all the male relatives to sleep. I shared a room with Happie’s two friends from college. Everyone just piled into her house and slept there. None of that hotel and privacy nonsense we Americans “need.”

Day 2:

Punjabi Wedding

Morning: Breakfast parathas! My favorite part of Punjab. A bit like pancakes, parathas are made from wheat flour and stuffed with vegetables (potato, onion, cauliflower, radish, etc..). They are fried and one eats them with dahi (curd, plain yogurt).

Then I started getting ready. From Happie’s house we drove down the road to a very large event center where Happie was in the middle of a photoshoot looking totally fabulous. Indian brides typically wear bright colors (red most traditionally but I’ve also seen orange, yellow, and pink). Seeing Happie all dolled up, I developed Indian wedding envy again and started rethinking my potential random Punjabi green card marriage ever-so-slightly.

Punjabi Wedding

Afternoon: The groom’s family arrived at the event center. The bride’s family had a long ribbon blocking them from entering the premises. The groom bargained with her friends and female cousin. In order to “get to” the bride, he must agree to pay a price to the sister/young female relative. I don’t know how much he agreed to pay. I know they started off with $1,000 but came down to something reasonable pretty quickly.

Then we all drove to the Gurdwara (Sikh place of worship) for the marriage ceremony. Happie’s cousin stayed with me to make sure I didn’t embarrass myself. We left our shoes outside and covered our heads, walked in, knelt before the alter, put some money in the donation box, and moved to the side. I was pretty happy about the “moving to the side” bit because the fancy leggings that came with my dress were much too large. This could be solved by tying them tightly, but with a broken arm, I couldn’t tie them properly. Lest, I spent most of the ceremony worried about keeping my pants on. The cousin came to my rescue after and tied them properly for me in the bathroom.

The religious ceremony was short and sweet, about the same length as a typical Protestant wedding ceremony. Some words were read in Punjabi, and Happie’s finance lead her around the alter with a piece of orange fabric four times.

Punjabi Wedding

Late Afternoon: Punjabi WeddingWe returned to the event center. The entire area was decorated with nice chairs, couches, tables, and decorations. There was a stage with music and a large buffet area in the back. I’m guessing around 500 people had attended. Happie and her new husband sat on the stage as the guests lined up to say congratulations and give them money as a present. After a few hours, I went inside with some of her friends were there was another buffet. Happie ate with the groom’s family.

Send Off: Even though Happie won’t be moving to Canada for a few more months, the symbolism in Indian weddings (and American weddings) can be a bit overwhelming. Just like how in the US our Dad’s walk down the aisle and “give” their daughters to the grooms, symbolizing a departure from daddy to hubby, Indian weddings do something similar. In Happie’s case, she symbolically left her family and got in a car with the groom’s family and drove off. She gets slightly teary-eyed during this process, understandably.  Also during this time, older uncles were again throwing handfuls of money on the couple and on the car. In this case, the hired help even climbed on the car the collect the rupees.

Punjabi Wedding

Evening: Happie’s friend, Aman, invited me to her house for the evening. I met her family and she took me into Faridkot to the main Gurdwara.

Punjabi Wedding
Aman looking pretty and me looking awkward with my cast

Overall, it was a really wonderful experience. Unfortunately, there was a bit of a language barrier between me and most of Happie’s family/guests. Despite that, her family went out of their way to involve me and get to know me. I really enjoyed just observing the craziness and excitement in her house. Also, her friends all spoke English and explained some of the traditions as well as just chatted with me casually. In all, it was by far one of my favorite weekends in India.

Punjabi Wedding

*Professional Photos taken by Piyush Bedi