· Ben Kuroki

Charlotte Hernandez

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Ben Kuroki was just 24 years old when news of the attack on Pearl Harbor reached his hometown of Hershey, Nebraska. Like millions of Americans, he felt shock, grief, and anger. But within hours, the Japanese American farm boy who had grown up playing baseball, serving as vice president of his high school senior class, and working alongside his family on their farm found himself viewed with suspicion by neighbors who had once known him all his life.

His father, Shosuke Kuroki, urged Ben and his brother Fred to enlist—not to escape prejudice, but to confront it head-on. At the time, Japanese Americans were officially barred from military service, yet through what many historians believe was a clerical oversight, both brothers were accepted into the U.S. Army. Even after enlisting, Ben was told that Japanese American soldiers would not be sent overseas and was assigned to remain stateside. Refusing to accept that fate, he relentlessly petitioned his superiors until he was finally transferred to England, where he trained as an aerial gunner and became a dorsal turret gunner aboard a B-24 Liberator—one of the most dangerous positions on one of the war's deadliest bombers.

Flying high above Europe and North Africa, Ben repeatedly risked his life on bombing missions where survival depended on courage, not ancestry. During one mission, his B-24 crashed in Spanish Morocco, and he and his crew were detained by Spanish authorities for three months before the U.S. State Department secured their release. Rather than returning home, Ben immediately rejoined his squadron. Although a standard combat tour required 25 missions, he flew 30, dedicating the final five to his brother Fred, who never had the opportunity to serve overseas. On his 30th mission over Münster, Germany, enemy fire ripped through his gun turret and wounded him. He also participated in Operation Tidal Wave, the devastating low-level bombing raid against the oil refineries at Ploiești, Romania—one of the deadliest air operations of World War II.

While recovering in the United States, Ben was assigned the difficult task of visiting internment camps where more than 110,000 Japanese Americans were imprisoned behind barbed wire. There, he encouraged young men to enlist and prove their loyalty to the very nation that had incarcerated their families. Believing that sacrifice could overcome prejudice, Ben accepted this painful responsibility. He then requested a transfer to the Pacific Theater, even though Asian American servicemen were barred from combat there because of doubts about their loyalty. After repeated refusals, a nationwide letter-writing campaign gained support from University of California Vice President Monroe Deutsch, and the appeal eventually reached Secretary of War Henry Stimson, who personally approved Ben's transfer.

Ben Kuroki became the only known Japanese American to fly combat missions over Japan during World War II. Serving with the 505th Bombardment Group, his B-29 Superfortress was named the "Honorable Sad Saki" in his honor. He completed 28 additional combat missions over Japan, including missions during the devastating firebombing campaign that helped bring the war to its conclusion. By the end of the conflict, he had flown an extraordinary 58 combat missions—30 over Europe and North Africa and 28 over the Pacific. His remarkable service earned him three Distinguished Flying Crosses, the Air Medal with five oak leaf clusters, and, in 2005, the Distinguished Service Medal, awarded six decades after the war.

After the war, Ben dedicated himself to promoting racial equality, traveling across the United States at his own expense to speak about overcoming prejudice and the importance of equal opportunity. He later earned a journalism degree from the University of Nebraska and spent decades working as a reporter and editor for small-town newspapers while raising a family. When asked why he fought so hard simply for the opportunity to serve, Ben replied that he had to "fight like hell for the right to fight" for his own country. Though celebrated by legendary military leaders including Generals George C. Marshall, Omar Bradley, Carl Spaatz, Jonathan Wainwright, and Jimmy Doolittle, Ben measured his legacy not by the famous people he met, but by the barriers he helped break for future generations.

Ben Kuroki passed away on September 1, 2015, in Camarillo, California, at the age of 98. Over 58 combat missions, he answered discrimination not with bitterness, but with extraordinary courage, unwavering patriotism, and a lifelong commitment to proving that loyalty is defined by actions—not ancestry. His story remains one of the most inspiring examples of resilience, honor, and grace in American history.

#BenKuroki #WorldWarII #JapaneseAmericanHistory #MilitaryHero #AmericanHistory

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When the mind begins to forget, the heart can still recognize the person who has always been there

Even during the most difficult moments of Peter Falk's battle with dementia, there were still quiet moments of love and connection between him and his wife, Shera Danese.

When Peter was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, Shera made a personal commitment.

She would protect his dignity.

She would keep him safe.

And she would care for the man she had loved for decades in the same Beverly Hills home they had shared together.

Their story began years earlier, in 1976, when the two met on the set of the film Mikey and Nicky.

A year later, they were married.

Their relationship grew into a 34-year marriage filled with laughter, partnership, and deep affection.

Shera was not just Peter's wife.

She was his biggest supporter and his closest companion.

She stood beside him through the most successful years of his career and even appeared alongside him in six episodes of Columbo, sharing the screen with the actor millions knew as the unforgettable Lieutenant Columbo.

They were partners in every sense of the word, experiencing the challenges and joys of Hollywood life together.

But as Peter's illness progressed, their lives changed.

The man who had entertained generations of viewers began losing access to memories of his own remarkable career.

Shera devoted herself completely to his care.

Instead of focusing only on what the disease had taken away, she searched for the things that still brought him comfort.

One of those things was art.

Peter had always loved charcoal sketching.

Even when conversations became difficult and words were harder to find, Shera would prepare his easel, place a pencil in his hand, and sit beside him as he drew.

She understood that even when memories faded, certain emotions and passions could remain.

Shera also fiercely protected his privacy.

She wanted the world to remember Peter Falk as the brilliant actor who brought Lieutenant Columbo to life, not only as a man struggling with a devastating illness.

She learned that caring for someone with dementia meant entering their world instead of constantly trying to bring them back into hers.

"I realized that I couldn't force him to live in my world anymore," she explained. "I had to learn how to step into his, and meet him exactly where he was."

One day, the couple sat together on their sunny outdoor patio.

Peter was having a particularly confusing moment. He looked around, unable to fully understand where he was or recognize his surroundings.

Shera reached over and gently held his hand.

She asked him softly if he was okay.

Peter looked at her for a long moment.

Slowly, the fear in his expression began to disappear.

Something familiar returned.

He held her hand tighter and quietly said that he did not know where they were, but he knew he was safe with her.

Shera reassured him.

She was there.

She had always been there.

That simple moment represented everything about their relationship.

Alzheimer's could take away Peter's memories of his famous career, his awards, and the character that made him a television legend.

But it could not erase the emotional connection he shared with the woman who had loved him for more than three decades.

Peter Falk passed away peacefully in June 2011 at the age of 83, surrounded by the care and devotion of his family.

His story with Shera is a reminder that love is not only found in the exciting moments of life.

Sometimes, the deepest love appears in the quiet moments.

In holding a hand.

In offering reassurance.

In staying when things become difficult.

Because even when the mind begins to forget, the heart can still recognize the person who has always been there.