Navigation Bureaucratic impression in the search for an accurate count of lation a military service in world war

Sumitra Karmakar Realistic Urban

there‘s no such thing as a white Mexican."The year was 1945, the end of World War II. As soldiers returned home, the country was in a state of transition, trying to reconcile the horrors of war with the promise of a better future. Among those returning were the five Botello brothers from San Saha, a small community in central Texas.Trinidad, the oldest at twenty-five years old, was the first to be discharged from the U.S. Army. As he sat in the clerk's office, a young soldier still adjusting to civilian life, he answered the routine questions about his physical appearance and citizenship. But when it came to his race, Trinidad hesitated. The clerk, impatient and following the protocol, reminded him of the only three options available: White, n***o, or Other (specify).Feeling a swell of pride in his heritage, Trinidad told the clerk he was Mexican. With a disinterested click on the typewriter, the clerk recorded his particulars: brown eyes, black hair, 5 feet, 5 inches, 145 pounds, U.S. citizen. And under 'Race,' the clerk typed 'Mexican.'The following year, Trinidad's younger brother, Crisantos, was discharged. His physical features were almost identical to Trinidad's, yet under 'Race,' the clerk typed 'White.' Confused and frustrated, Crisantos protested, but the clerk shrugged it off as just another error.It wasn't until the Botello brothers' youngest brother, Gregorio, returned from his service in the Navy that the family realized the inconsistency in their race classifications. Simon and John, who had also served in the war, were labeled as 'White' and 'Mexican' respectively. Three of the brothers were considered white and two, Mexican.This was not an isolated case. Across the country, Latino/a soldiers were being arbitrarily categorized as white, black, or other, depending on the whim of the person filling out their discharge papers. It was a bureaucratic imprecision that would continue to plague demographers, public policy makers, historians, and even family members for years to come.The irony was not lost on the veterans themselves. Aniceto 'Cheto' Nuñez, a veteran from West Texas, recalled being prodded by his drill instructor to answer whether he was Spanish or Mexican. He told the instructor he was Mexican, but the war had changed him into a white man. The instructor persisted, stating that there was no such thing as a white Mexican.As the years passed and the Botello brothers settled back into civilian life, the racial classifications on their discharge papers would continue to weigh on them. They were proud of their heritage and didn't want it diminished or erased by a bureaucratic error. But more importantly, they were aware of the consequences of these arbitrary classifications.For Latino/a veterans, their race could determine their rights and their future. It could affect their access to healthcare, education, and job opportunities. It could determine if they received the recognition they deserved for their service. And it could shape the way their stories were told in history.The Botello brothers' story is just one of many that illustrate the capriciousness of Latina/o racial categorization during World War II. It is a reminder of how a simple, seemingly inconsequential detail on a piece of paper can have far-reaching and lasting effects. And it is a call to action, to navigate through the bureaucratic imprecision in our search for an accurate count of Latino/a military service in World War II and beyond.Trinidad D. Botello was the eldest of the five Botello brothers from San Saba, Texas. Growing up, he was a proud Mexican-American and never thought twice about his identity. But when he turned 18, he was drafted into the US Army and suddenly his identity was called into question.As Trinidad went through basic training, he noticed that his fellow soldiers treated him differently. They called him 'Mexican' and joked about his heritage. At first, he shrugged it off, thinking they were just teasing. But as time went on, he realized that they truly saw him as different because he was Mexican-American.Trinidad couldn't understand why his own country would label him as such. He was born and raised in Texas, just like his brothers. They were all proud Americans, but because of their Latino heritage, they were treated differently.His experience in the army opened his eyes to the discrimination that Mexican-Americans faced on a daily basis. He saw how they were treated as second-class citizens, and it angered him. He wanted to do something to change the perception and treatment of Mexican-Americans in the US.Despite the challenges, Trinidad excelled in the army. He was a skilled soldier and earned the respect of his fellow soldiers and superiors. But when it came time for his discharge, he was shocked to see that he was identified as 'Mexican' on his paperwork. He couldn't believe that even the army, an institution that he had dedicated his time and service to, would label

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