Today's front page of The Times (March 28) brings back vividly the war that we won, that we eventually, ironically, are going to lose.
When I read of a nation that was in total disarray, and the tremendous price it paid for a tragic conflict, recovering from that affair to become a world power, an omnipotent financial force, an industrial giant, a country that represents a $40-billion imbalance in our trade, I wonder who won the war.
I was raised with the Japanese people in a small sawmill town in the Pacific Northwest, went to school with them, played baseball with them, spent evenings together, in their homes, or mine, learned a little of their language, got thrown across the room on more than one occasion by someone more expert in judo, more schooled in karate.
It's not the nation, nor its people. It's not a personal vendetta for the productive, youthful, years that I gave to this country during World War II. It's a matter of principle, a matter of pride. How can we sacrifice our own heritage, our very freedom, the future of this great America, the lives of our children, and their children, to embellish someone else's stature, strength, stability?