Dave Gutierrez - Patriots from the Barrio: The Story of Company E, 141st Infantry: The Only All Mexican American Army Unit in World War II

AS A huerquito mocoso (snot-nosed child), I loved listening to my dad tell stories. In the early 70s, like nearly every kid in America, I would wake up every Saturday morning to cartoons. My brothers and sisters would sit with their bowls of cereal on the living room floor. I usually waited until my mom woke up to see what she would fix my dad for breakfast, hoping to get lucky with a nice warm Mexican breakfastbut not before I ripped open the box of cereal to snatch the toy that came inside the box before any of my siblings could get to it.

Once we heard Dads voice in the morning we would barge into the bedroom and jump on his bed. All five kids would sit there in anticipation of the new story that was coming next. Forget cartoons; to me these stories were more entertaining than any fake ghost Scooby Doo was chasing that week.

The stories were about his childhood growing up in the San Felipe barrio (neighborhood) of Del Rio, Texas. He often spoke of his cousins, Pasqual and Yoyo, who lived across the street and their adventures in the open wilderness. He spoke of the river that ran through the barrio that all the kids swam in and of playing Cowboys and Indians near a barren hill they called La Loma de la Cruz (the Hill of the Cross). It was like going to the movies; the only thing missing was the popcorn. On a good morning there might be atole de aroz (warm rice cereal), menudo, or my favorite, chorizo and eggs with warm tortillas.

He spoke of his brothers and sister, my tios (uncles) and tia (aunt). Tales about his grandfather and grandmother Nayo and Rosa were shared. He talked about his grandmother on his moms side, of the family referring to her as juelita chiquita (small grandma), due to her short stature.

We lived in a three-bedroom apartment in San Jose, California, all seven of us. My parents had the master bedroom, my two sisters shared a room, and my two brothers and I were crammed into the third room. Hearing my dads stories about playing freely through the wilderness, swimming in the San Felipe Creek they called El Pig Pen, to me was like being in a fairy tale. To us that seemed like another world of make-believe. After all, we had no river to swim in, no loma to climb and play freely. I guess I felt deprived; where was my river? I mean, forget the fact that I couldnt swim.

This was our Saturday morning ritual, and I looked forward to it. They knew everyone in the barrio and could describe everyone and everything in such detail, and here I was; I couldnt tell you the name of the kid that lived in the apartment next door. On one particular Saturday morning my dad went on about a cousin named Ramon who had served in World War II. My dad called him, El Sancudo, (the mosquito).

The story was that he had served in the army in Italy. He had been decorated with many medals and fought and killed Nazis. He had been taken as a prisoner on two occasions and managed to escape both times. After the morning story, with my belly full from warm tortillas, my dad instructed us all to be in the living room at 1 p.m. sharp. A movie was going to be shown about the US Army in World War II.

I kept track of the clock. At times the hours seemed like an entire day. There were no VCRs, DVD players, or movies to stream on your tablets back then, so whenever there was a movie to be watched it was a scheduled family event. My father explained that this movie was the closest thing to show what our cousin Ramon and the army went through during World War II. The movie was called To Hell and Back, starring Audie Murphy.

It was a true story about Murphys experiences in the armys 3rd Division. I was absolutely mesmerized by it. After the movie, my father explained that our cousin Ramon was just as much a heroduring the war as Audie Murphy. To think that one of our relatives had the same experiences that this American hero had been through gave me a sense of renewed pride.

After the movie was over, I remember asking my dad if they were going to make Ramons movie next. My dad turned to me with a puzzled look on his face and stated, Tas loco, quen va ser una vista de un Mexicano? (Are you crazy, whos going to make a movie about a Mexican?) My dad might have thought I was crazy, but I was dead serious. If Ramon was a hero just like Audie Murphy, why wouldnt someone make his movie? I didnt understand it. Then again, children can be so nave.

I can look back at those times and realize now that my parents were reliving their childhood through the stories they told. At the same time, their stories had burned a fire inside me to know more about my family history and this fascinating place called Del Rio, Texas. After all, I was a pocho, slang for someone not born in Texas. I was the first to be born in California when my parents migrated to Silicon Valley from Del Rio. Mexicans use the term pocho to describe those who had forgotten their Mexican heritage, but Tejanos (Mexican Americans from Texas) used the term for those not from Texas. Family and friends would always remind me that I was not from Texas, I was simply a pocho.

As I grew older the stories became fewer and further apart. When I was married and had my own children, they became my dads new audience to his stories. I loved the fact that my children were also exposed to stories and lessons that I learned. As my children grew older I wanted to make sure they knew their family history, so I started to research our ancestors.

My father mapped out the family tree as far back as he could remember. The computer and internet were fabulous tools for discovering information. As I continued my research I came across newspaper articles about our cousin Ramonthe family Audie Murphy. The more I read on Ramon the more information I craved. As I found long-lost relatives through the internet, they contributed their own stories and information about Ramon. One of the first relatives I found was my second cousin Gloria Cadena. Her mother, Guadalupe Gutierrez Tobias, is one of Ramons younger sisters. I was so intrigued by his entire story that, after avisit with Guadalupe discussing Ramon at her dining room table, I thought that this would be a great subject for a book.

I started research on Ramons army unit and read nearly everything written about the unit and the battles they were involved in during World War II. I found more relatives and gathered yet more information. I then found family members of the men who served with Ramon. Slowly the pieces of this giant story puzzle began to form a clearer picture for me. I found a few living members of his unit, and they were all very supportive of my goal in writing this book.