By Courtney Mahaffey
On Dec. 7, 1941, Harold Valderas, then a senior at George Washington High School in New York City, was doing his homework while listening to the radio when he heard the report about Pearl Harbor.
"Little did I realize, before long, I'd be in the service myself," Valderas said.
In the spring of 1942, at the age of 18, Valderas dropped out of high school early to enlist in the Army Air Corp Cadet Program. (There wasn’t a draft for 18- year-olds at the time.)
By Elaine Mingus
For David Pineda Towns, it was always about the letters. The letters from his wife. The letters from his family and friends. And his letters back to them.
It was always about the news they brought. He lived for their arrival. Like the one he received telling him he’d become a father to a 9-pound son.
"It's letters, and letters only, that bring up the morale of a soldier," Towns wrote to his wife, Lilia Martinez, while stationed overseas in Europe during World War II. "Do not fail to answer me soon."
By Nathan Beck
On Sunday, Dec. 7, 1941, Rudolph Tovar was a halfback marching his football team down a Los Angeles football field toward the goal line. Captain of the Verdugo Knights, Tovar and his teammates were informed during a timeout on the sidelines that Pearl Harbor had been bombed early that morning by the Japanese.
The next day, after President Franklin D. Roosevelt had declared war on the Japanese and entered America into World War II, Tovar and his friend, William Rubalcava, traveled to downtown Los Angeles to the Federal Building, to enlist in the Marine Corps.
By Reid Worth
In June of 2002, 58 years after the battle in which he earned it, Oscar Torres finally received the Purple Heart for wounds received in action during the September 1944 assault on the island of Peleliu. In addition to earning that medal after being drafted in 1943, Torres, a Marine, witnessed a great deal of carnage on the tiny South Pacific Island.
Despite being drafted, Torres wasn’t reluctant to serve his country. He hadn't enlisted because his two older brothers had already done so; Torres simply stayed behind to help his family until he was called.
By Israel Saenz
A long, jagged scar marks Gilberto Roque Torres' right forearm, a permanent reminder of a summer day in France that would be his last in combat. Torres doesn't remember too many dates of events that occurred during his military service, but a glance at the 60-year-old scar can bring August 7, 1944, back to him as if it were a day last week.
That day marked the end of his World War II service in war-torn France – specifically, Brittany -- and the beginning of his return to the quiet life of rural Central Texas.
By Aaan Zukowski
María Isabel Solis Thomas remembers the day as if it were yesterday: She and her sister, Elvia, are standing on a dock at a Richmond, Calif., shipyard, waving goodbye to sailors boarding American ships destined for battle during World War II.
Thomas recalls a young sailor asking for one of her tiny cross earrings. Not one to part easily with any of her jewelry, Thomas remembers Elvia’s shock when she gladly removed the earring and gave it to the sailor as a going-away memento -- even though she’d never see the sailor again.
By Karina Valenzuela
The Falcon family's military service extends beyond four brothers' time in World War II.
By Elizabeth James
As a medic treating the wounded and dying in World War II, Arthur Tafoya says dealing with the blood and gore of battle was in some ways the easy part. The difficult part was dodging the bullets and artillery fire.
"Artillery and bullets didn't discriminate," Tafoya recalled. "It didn't matter that we had red crosses [on our uniforms]. We were always under fire."
By Courtney Mahaffey
Robert Soltero can barely remember details of the Depression, but his memories of discrimination during that era remain vivid.
"In those days, you couldn't even go downtown," said Soltero, who grew up in a west-side community of Kansas City, Mo., in the 1930s. "We [Latinos] had to stay in our own background."
Soltero's father, Luis Soltero, worked three jobs, including ones at the Cudahy Packing House and a hotel room service to help support Soltero, his older brother, Tony, and sister, Connie.
By Wanda Lopez
At 80, Mike Silva reflects on his World War II service and how he was foolish to volunteer for a conflict that still moves him to tears decades later.
Silva was wounded during the war and saw many fellow soldiers die. He also cannot shake the memory of hungry children in the streets of Europe.
"I wanted to go because I was a dummy," he said, laughing at his own naïveté.
"When they asked who wanted to receive special training, I raised my hand. That's where they taught me how to save or kill other people."
