“After my uncle, Sgt. Irving Strobing (US Signal Corps-Army) returned from 3 1/2 years in Japanese prison camps, he was in demand as a speaker. He sent the last message from Corregidor Island as General Jonathan Wainwright was surrendering to the Japanese in May 1942.

I’ve attached a speech he gave about Freedom. I think it’s appropriate for this 4th of July. Use as you see fit.”

Freedom by Irving Strobing (undated)

Freedom, it is written, is every man’s heritage. Unfortunately, too many people are daily being denied their birthright.

We who are fortunate enough to enjoy a relatively large amount of freedom in the United States are often prone to take our inheritance for granted. Too seldom do we realize that this thing we call freedom is a living, vibrant force which must be nurtured by our actions, our labor, and even by our personal sacrifices.

Those of us who have been in circumstances where our freedom, to put it mildly, has been restricted, can more readily appreciate that which once lost, has been regained.

Let me tell you of one man and his desire to be free.

I first met Harry in May 1944, at the Tokyo POW camp #14B, located at Omi, a small village in northwestern Honshu, Japan.

Harry was a corporal in the USAF. I was, at that time, a corporal in the Army Signal Corps. Both of us had served in the Philippines until the surrender of our forces; Harry on Bataan until April, 1942, and I on Corregidor until May 6, 1942. We had spent our first two years of captivity in different camps, so it was not until my arrival at Omi in May 1944 that we finally met.

Our life was a hard one with but one vision to encourage us – the day of our liberation, whenever it might come.

Harry and I worked as a team in the rock quarry, and a back-breaking job it was, especially on a meager ration of rice and soup, and only infrequent traces of meat or fish to relieve the monotony.

The strain of the heavy labor and inadequate diet had its effect on all of us, but Harry seemed to be weakening more rapidly than the rest. Early in 1945, I was transferred to the steel furnaces and Harry, because of his weakened condition, was assigned to the farming detail. This group, composed of the weakest men, tilled the terraced hillside vegetable plots just outside the village.

In March of 1945, Harry became too weak to continue working at any job, and he was finally admitted to what we called our hospital. The doctor found that there was a growth in Harry’s throat and, only two weeks later, the growth made it impossible for Harry to swallow his food. In order for him to take nourishment, we used to grind his rice by hand to a fine powder. This was cooked into a very thin gruel and fed to him through a tube inserted into his side and directly into his stomach.

Harry never complained; however, despite all our efforts he continued to weaken steadily and it seemed, even to the most hopeful of us, that it was a matter of but a few days before Harry’s name would be added to our list of losses.

I spent all the time I could with Harry and we would recount past events of our life at home and tell one another of our dreams and plans for those wonderful days after our liberation.

In July 1945, Harry’s voice was all but lost to him. He could speak only in a low, hoarse whisper, and he was so weak that only a few words would exhaust his meager reserve of strength. His most-oft words were “I know I can’t last much longer but I don’t want to die a prisoner. I want to be free.”

Eash night as I left him there was always the question: Will he last until morning?

On Aug. 16, 1945, the rumor ran through camp – “There was going to be an armistice!” One week later, on Aug. 23, four Navy carrier fighter planes appeared over our camp and we carried Harry outside on a litter, that he might see them for himself. That afternoon he was taken outside again in time to see a flight of B-29s dropping supplies and leaflets to us. The leaflets began “The Japanese government has surrendered. You will be evacuated by the Allied Nations as soon as possible.”

Harry died on the morning of Aug. 24, 1945, a free man. The next morning I was one of a group of six liberated POWs. We were making our way through town, carrying our burden on our shoulders. My thoughts were of Harry, whose determination and willpower brought him through to the day when he was once again free. Soon we came to the outskirts of Omi and turned to enter a building. We climbed the steps of the crematorium and bore into it the body of Harry.

These are hard days for free men for there are still those who would oppress others.

May you never be called upon to make the supreme sacrifice in defense of your freedom. However, the same freedom which grants you those privileges you enjoy here today at the same time imposes certain responsibilities. It directs that not only must your actions and your work contribute to the preservation of your own freedom, but that these efforts must be exerted in an attempt to bring freedom to those less fortunate.

Your freedom requires your participation in the affairs of your government – local, state, and national. It demands a knowledge of conditions – social, economic, and political – and of your neighbors throughout the world. It calls for thought, energy, admiration, action, and sacrifice. It demands of you all these things and more, and requires them not only for a day or a week or a month or even a year. No, it takes much longer than that to meet your obligations in the cause of freedom. For, you see, it is not until the blood no longer flows through your veins, not until you have drawn your last breath, not until your heart is, at last, stilled, then and only then can it be said “You have paid the price of your freedom.”