The New York Times called Ben Kuroki an "authentic hero." Scott Stewart would edit that. He'd call him an "authentic Nebraska hero."

Kuroki, 88, a Japanese American from Nebraska who flew missions over North Africa, Europe and Japan during World War II, was awarded the Distinguished Service Medal, the U.S. Army's third-highest decoration, on Friday at The Cornhusker Hotel.

It was a long time coming.

Kuroki flew 58 combat missions during the war at a time when the life expectancy for flyers was five missions.

After flying in B-24 bombers over North Africa and Europe, he fought for a regulation change and became the first Japanese-American to fly missions over Japan.

Throughout his military career, he suffered persecution — even from his fellow soldiers — because of his race.

"Receiving this medal so many decades after the fact is truly incredible," Kuroki said at the ceremony.

"I had to fight like hell to fight for my country, and now I feel completely vindicated."

When asked why he volunteered to keep flying bomb missions after he had completed the required 25, he said:

"There's an old saying, and I believe there's a lot of truth to it: All guts and no brains."

At a Friday-morning press conference, Kuroki, a University of Nebraska-Lincoln graduate and a retired newspaper publisher, gave a great deal of the credit for receiving the honor to Carroll "Cal" Stewart of Lincoln, and his son, Scott.

Stewart served in the same bombardment group as Kuroki in Europe.

Kuroki also gave special thanks to Greg Dibella, a retired Army major and volunteer staffer with Sen. Ben Nelson who steered the Distinguished Service Medal application through the military bureaucracy.

At the Friday-evening ceremony, which included a video documentary of Kuroki's life, Kuroki also received awards from the U.S. Navy and the Nebraska Press Association. He will receive an honorary doctor of letters degree from UNL today.

Kuroki said his upbringing in Nebraska — during which he said he was never discriminated against — "provided a tremendous way of life that was second to none, and it provided a solid foundation to patriotism."

At the ceremony, Gov. Dave Heineman called Kuroki "not only a great Nebraskan, but a great American as well."

John Doyle, a World War II veteran and a friend of the Stewarts, toasted Kuroki at the ceremony:

"Ben, we salute you, and we thank you for your life."

Reporter Joe Duggan contributed to this story.

Reach Josh Swartzlander at 473-7120 or jswartzlander@journalstar.com.

‘Selfless service'

Friday evening, Ben Kuroki, a Japanese-American who grew up in Nebraska, was awarded the prestigious Distinguished Service Medal.

In part, the citation reads: "Technical Sergeant Kuroki's outstanding performance of duty and countless contributions are emblematic of distinguished, selfless service and reflect great credit upon himself, the U.S. Army Air Force and the U.S. Army."

'Most Honored Son' welcomes a savior to Lincoln

"Tojo and Kuroki . . . damned Japs."

Technical Sgt. Ben Kuroki, a Nebraskan born of Japanese parents, had quietly endured angry stares, cold shoulders and racial epithets before.

Not this time.

In an Army Air Corps barracks on the Pacific island of Tinian, Sgt. Kuroki looked at the drunken challenger, a private wearing the same uniform he wore in July 1945.

His words hung in a barracks that had fallen eerily silent. Sgt. Kuroki felt his anger about to erupt.

A machine gunner with a B-29 bomber crew, Kuroki had just flown his 58th mission of World War II. Many crewmen who logged 25 missions got a noncombat assignment, if not a ride home. Kuroki volunteered for an additional 33 missions to prove his loyalty, to demonstrate patriotism, to emphasize he was American first, Japanese-American second.

But none of that mattered at that moment to one belligerent private, a ground crew member who belonged to Kuroki's own squadron.

"Tojo and Kuroki . . . damned Japs," he shouted.

"You can call Tojo a damned Jap," Kuroki yelled back, "but don't call me one."

Kuroki thought the angry exchange had ended the episode. He never saw what happened next.

A blade.

A blur.

A crimson splash.

On his back, blood spilling from his scalp, Kuroki saw his assailant coming, army-issue knife in hand.

At that moment, a master sergeant from New York by the name of Russell Olsen stepped in. He put himself between the assailant and Kuroki, who was still on the floor.

He calmly asked for the knife. The private complied, then walked out. Others wrapped a towel around Kuroki's head, loaded him into a jeep and drove him to the hospital, where his wound would need two dozen stitches to close and weeks to heal.

Six decades later, Ben Kuroki considers that master sergeant nothing less than a savior.

"Russ Olsen stepped in between us and prevented further attacks and probably saved my life."

His voice fell faint at the memory.

"I'm sure he saved my life."

This week, they reunited for the first time in 18 years, these men linked by a moment when a remarkable life hung in the balance.

Olsen and his wife, Doris, drove from their summer home in Longmont, Colo., to Lincoln this weekend to see his friend receive two rare honors.

On Friday, the United States military presented Kuroki with the Distinguished Service Medal in recognition of a service record that had gone underappreciated 60 years ago. Today, at its summer commencement, the University of Nebraska-Lincoln will present Kuroki with an honorary doctor of letters degree.

Neither event would have happened, Kuroki said, without Olsen's bravery. That's why, as plans were being made for this weekend's activities in Lincoln, Kuroki invited Olsen as his "very special guest."

Olsen downplayed his role. As a master sergeant, he knew everybody in the squadron. Olsen, who flew on 35 bombing missions as a flight engineer, felt no fear in confronting the attacker.

"I just told him to give me the knife," Olsen said during a phone interview. "He did, no problem."

For Kuroki, it was the most violent of many incidents of discrimination throughout his Army experience. From the moment the Hershey farm boy first tried to enlist in North Platte, Kuroki had to overcome those who questioned his loyalty despite his full U.S. citizenship. He even had to obtain an individual exception from the War Secretary to fly missions over the homeland of his ancestors.

Things weren't better on the home front, where the government had placed more than 100,000 Japanese and Japanese-Americans in internment camps with armed guards and barbed wire. While back in the states in 1944, Kuroki, in full uniform, tried to share a cab in Denver, only to have the other passenger shout, "I don't want to ride with no lousy Jap."

Inside a bomber, no one insulted or questioned Kuroki. Among his own crew, he was highly respected, earning the nickname Most Honored Son. On Tinian, his crewmates surrounded him everywhere he went to make sure no one would shoot him, claiming he was a Japanese soldier in disguise.

The July incident still doesn't make sense to Kuroki and Olsen because Kuroki and the private had been friends. The Army court-martialed the private and sentenced him to six months in the brig.

Olsen chalked it up to a pervasive hatred of the Japanese enemy and too much alcohol. He's just happy the knife didn't cut deeper.

Kuroki has carried the scar as a reminder that hate can infect the heart of any man, regardless of uniform, race, country or creed.

"I'd flown 58 bombing missions and never been scratched and I got floored by my own squadron member. It's a miracle I survived that."

— Joe Duggan