Japanese family never knew what happened to their brother until flag’s return.
HIGASHI-SHIRAKAWA, Japan — Seventy-three years ago, a young Marine from Montana, deployed to the Pacific island of Saipan, stumbled across a body. A Japanese soldier, lying on his back, dead.
Poking out from underneath his jacket was a “good luck flag” — a Japanese flag covered with the signatures and good luck wishes of 180 people from his family and his hometown of Higashi-Shirakawa, deep in the Japanese Alps. “Long-lasting fortune in battle” was written in large letters across the top.
The 20-year-old Marine, Marvin Strombo, who was part of a scout-sniping platoon, reached down and took the flag. For decades, it was displayed in the glass-fronted gun cabinet in his home in Missoula, Mont., becoming a talking point among visitors and a point of pride for the veteran.
But on Tuesday, the 72nd anniversary of Japan’s World War II surrender, Strombo traveled some 5,300 miles from Missoula to this remote village, population 2,338, to return the flag to the soldier’s family. Local residents dressed in black and schoolchildren turned out for the ceremony.
“I had such a moment with your brother 73 years ago. I promised him one day I would return the flag to his family, ” Strombo told the family of Sadao Yasue, the soldier whose flag he took. “It took a long time, but I was able to bring the flag back to you, where it belongs.”
When Strombo handed the flag to Yasue’s younger brother, 89-year-old Tatsuya Yasue buried his face in the flag, then took it to his older sister, now 95 years old and in a wheelchair, who did the same. Supported by her family members, she wiped away the tears.
“Marvin, thank you very much for bringing us this flag, ” Tatsuya Yasue told the veteran, who was accompanied by his two daughters and representatives from the Obon Society, an Oregon-based nonprofit that promotes reconciliation between the wartime enemies.
“Looking at this flag, the signatures are very clear, and I can almost smell my brother’s skin from the flag, ” the sprightly Tatsuya Yasue said. “We know that you have kept it well for so long.”
The moment was part of an effort to promote “healing and closure over the loss of life from the war, ” said Rex Ziak, co-founder, with his wife, Keiko, of the Obon Society.
