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“Let’s keep in the bond.” —Leon Uris, bestselling author of EXODUS and TRINITY. The Allied forces had been battling the Japanese Empire in the Pacific War since 1941, flattening island after island for three and a half years. Now, it was Okinawa’s turn. The Japanese engineers had scarred the paradise by building three major airfields, affording a tempting morsel for the American juggernaut and a strategic entry point to Japan itself. On April 1, 1945, ironically April Fool’s Day and Easter Sunday, the invasion of Okinawa began. Thousands of warships and aircraft appeared, dumping tons of high explosives on the pristine little island. Tens of thousands of American infantrymen stormed their beaches. Within the flick of an eyelash the quaint little villages were reduced to rubble. The beautiful fields of rice and sugar cane looked as though a giant heavenly shotgun had blasted them into a quagmire of mud and broken debris. Fortunately, the islanders were warned in advance to dig caves in the mountainsides where they could seek refuge. This they did, and this is where they hid for three months as the battle raged over their heads. For tactical reasons, the Japanese commander decided to make his stand in the south. Thus, the lower end of the island was demolished, leaving the north unscathed. Perhaps fate stepped in and decided to preserve at least half of this wonderful civilization. Many of the riflemen who survived the flames of combat in the south were sent north and allowed to mingle with these gracious people. This story belongs to them.