War and Remembrance

In the meantime, though, there was the big game to think about: the state parochial-schools championship. On game day, Regis stadium was packed with parents, nuns and priests; a large contingent had made the drive from Walsenburg.

And then it happened. Every time the Walsenburg players broke their huddle on offense or lined up on defense, they yelled in unison: Get that Jap!

Uchida betrayed no emotion, acting as though he couldn't hear the taunts or feel the added viciousness, the piling on, that came every time he touched the football. He ran hard, but his team was already beaten.

Outraged for their friend and teammate, the Regis players let the other team get under their skin. They played as poor a game as anyone could remember, missing tackles and dropping balls. One pass whistled past Sunderland before he remembered to turn around and look for it.

After the game, they didn't know what to say to Buddy. "Sorry" seemed insufficient, though they said it and meant it. Jim Sunderland would never forget that day, when he'd been helpless to stop an injustice.

---

While the war raged, Jim finished his last year of high school. He played basketball in the winter and baseball in the spring. And in May, he found a steady girl, Sheila Curry, a good Irish Catholic and the daughter of Major General John Curry of the U.S. Army. They'd met when Sheila was visiting Regis for a school event and had liked each other immediately. Sheila thought Jim was bright and articulate, handsome with a winning smile; he thought she was beautiful and smart and had a great sense of humor -- as evidenced when she laughed at all of his jokes.

Regis's senior prom was to be held the day after they met; Jim already had a date, and so did Sheila. But he made sure he got on her dance card that night. And the next week, he called to ask if he could visit, meet her folks. Sheila, surprised and delighted that he'd called, immediately said yes. Jim showed up wearing his letter sweater, thinking he was pretty hot stuff. Only later did he learn that Sheila's mom was unimpressed; Mrs. Curry thought he should have presented himself in a suit and tie.

Their first "date" was Jim's graduation. The whole Sunderland clan went to pick up Sheila, and this time Jim dressed for the occasion. Sheila wore a bright-yellow dress, inspiring Anna Sunderland to exclaim, "Doesn't she look radiant!"

Jim thought Sheila looked beautiful.

That fall, Jim entered Regis College. The draft was on, but he wouldn't be eighteen, the minimum age, until December. He'd hoped to go to Creighton University, but with his older brother and sister already in the service, his father needed help with the family business.

He didn't mind sticking around Denver; it made it easier to see Sheila. They went out just about every weekend.

At first Sheila's father, a World War I ace now in charge of the Army Air Corps in the western United States, wasn't so sure about Jim. Eventually, though, he came around when he recognized what a fine young man was courting his daughter; he even started calling Jim by his nickname, Sundy. The general was strict and insisted that Sheila be home by twelve o'clock, which sometimes made it a difficult to find another couple for a double date. Jim's classmates even teased him in the college newspaper, noting that "Jim Sunderland has a Curry-few."

Jim knew he was lucky. Sheila was a knockout. And while he had a fairly high estimation of himself in all other respects, he had a sneaking suspicion that he really wasn't worthy of her. Besides, so many of his high school classmates had already left for the war. They'd write Jim, not about their military experiences, but to ask him to keep an eye on their girls so they'd have someone to come back to.

Several months after his birthday, Jim was still waiting for the inevitable notice from his draft board. He decided to enlist so that he could choose which branch of the service to enter. He didn't want the Navy: The idea of being on a ship in the middle of the ocean turned his landlocked stomach, particularly since he wasn't much of a swimmer. Nor did he want to spend the war digging foxholes, so the Marines and regular Army were out.

Partly inspired by General Curry, he decided on the Army Air Corps. His parents had no idea he'd volunteered until he received the notice that he'd been accepted. As patriotic Americans, there really wasn't much they could say, anyway.

Jim got to stick around long enough to take Sheila to her senior prom that June. A month later he was off to basic training, then on to Iowa Wesleyan College, where he put in ten hours of flying in a Piper Cub. Here Jim encountered a problem: Every time he went up in one of the planes, he got airsick.