Valor Stone Restoration

08/31/2026

🇺🇸 VALOR STONE RESTORATION 🇺🇸
Remembering Corporal George Sakai

Today I had the opportunity to give another veteran’s headstone a little refresh at Gilroy Cemetery.

This one belongs to Corporal George Sakai, U.S. Marine Corps, a Korean War veteran.

George was born in Gilroy on February 22, 1934. Before he ever put on a Marine uniform, he was a young man growing up in the Gilroy community and attending Gilroy High School.

In the 1953 Gilroy High School yearbook, George is listed as being active in Future Farmers of America all four years. He served as FFA Secretary and later Vice President, was a member of Block G, and played basketball.

It gives us a glimpse of George before his military service — a local young man involved in his school and his community.

Somewhere after high school, his path took him into the United States Marine Corps, where he served during the Korean War and ultimately attained the rank of Corporal.

Decades later, George returned to the community where his story began. He passed away on January 3, 2026, at the age of 91.

His marker carries the Buddhist Dharma Wheel, a symbol associated with Buddhism and the path of life, teaching and enlightenment. Seeing that symbol on the grave of a Japanese-American veteran is another reminder that the men and women buried here carried their heritage, faith and personal stories with them while serving our country.

George’s stone wasn’t heavily soiled or neglected. It simply needed a light refresh to remove some weathering and bring the granite back to the condition it deserves.

That may seem like a small thing.

But to me, every stone represents a person.

George Sakai was a student.
An FFA leader.
A basketball player.
A Marine.
A Korean War veteran.
And a member of the Gilroy community.

He deserved to be remembered.

And that’s why I do this.

🇺🇸 Never forgotten. 🇺🇸

08/30/2026

🇺🇸 HIDEOMI “SAM” HATAI — THE FOURTH 442ND SOLDIER 🇺🇸

Every time I think I've found all the stories hidden in Gilroy Cemetery, another one comes along.

This is the headstone of Hideomi “Sam” Hatai.

Born September 6, 1919, Sam was an American-born son of Japanese immigrants who served his country during World War II as a member of the legendary 442nd Regimental Combat Team.

Like so many Japanese American soldiers of the 442nd, his path to military service was anything but simple. He lived through one of the darkest chapters in American history, when Japanese Americans were forcibly removed from their homes and incarcerated during World War II.

But I've already told that part of the story with the other 442nd veterans I've found here.

What I find fascinating about Sam is what happened after the war.

He came home to California and became a farmer.

For decades, he worked the land around Hollister, growing crops including garlic, tomatoes and sugar beets. Records from later in his life describe him as an experienced farmer who personally operated his farm and equipment.

He wasn't just passing through this area.

He put down roots here.

And eventually, he came to rest here in Gilroy.

There is also something on Sam's headstone that caught my attention.

At the top is a small Japanese torii gate ⛩️.

The torii is a traditional symbol associated with Shinto in Japan. It represents a passage or boundary between the everyday world and sacred space. You see these gates at the entrances to Shinto shrines throughout Japan.

I don't know whether Sam personally practiced Shinto, so I don't want to make that assumption. But seeing this symbol on his headstone adds another interesting connection to the Japanese heritage that was part of his life.

And then there is one more thing that makes this discovery special.

Sam Hatai is the FOURTH member of the legendary 442nd Regimental Combat Team that I've found buried here in Gilroy Cemetery.

Four men.

Four members of one of the most decorated units in American military history.

And all four are resting within close proximity of one another, right here in our community.

Think about that.

These men traveled halfway around the world, fought for their country, came home, built lives, raised families, worked, farmed and contributed to the communities around them.

Eventually, they became names on headstones.

And if we don't stop and look, that's all they remain.

That's one of the reasons I started Valor Stone.

Because behind every stone is a person.

And sometimes, behind one stone is an entire piece of American history.

Sam Hatai was a soldier.

He was a farmer.

He was an American.

And now, decades after his service, I'm honored to make sure his name and his story are not forgotten.

🇺🇸 Thank you for your service, Sam.

You are not forgotten.

08/29/2026

🇺🇸 Ekiji “Sam” Shiotsuka — A Soldier, A Promise, and a Piece of String

Today, while working on the veteran headstones here at the cemetery, I came across the grave of Ekiji “Sam” Shiotsuka.

His stone tells us he was a Tec/4 in the U.S. Army during World War II.

But there is much more to his story than what can fit on a headstone.

Sam served with the legendary 442nd Regimental Combat Team, the Japanese American unit that fought in the European Theater. His service included the 2nd Battalion, Company E, and he earned the Bronze Star Medal and Combat Infantryman Badge.

But while Sam was training for war at Camp Shelby in Mississippi, the woman he loved, Misao Yamano, was living behind the fences of the Poston incarceration camp in Arizona.

Misao and her family had been forcibly removed from their home in California and sent to Poston during World War II.

Sam wanted to marry her.

There was just one problem.

He needed to know her ring size.

So Misao sent him a piece of string.

Sam used that simple piece of string to determine the size of an engagement ring, and somehow, incredibly, it fit perfectly.

In March 1943, Sam traveled to Poston, and the two were married at the Poston Buddhist Temple.

Think about that for a moment.

A young American soldier was preparing to go overseas and fight a war, while the woman he loved was living in an incarceration camp simply because of her Japanese ancestry.

And in the middle of all of that uncertainty, they found a way to begin their life together.

Sam went on to serve in Europe with the 442nd. Misao remained in Poston for a time, and the couple eventually reunited and built their life together after the war.

They settled in the Gilroy-Hollister area, raised three children, and remained together until Sam passed away in 2000.

Today, all that remains here is a granite marker.

But behind those few lines of engraving was a soldier, a wife, a war, an incarceration camp, and a love story that began with something as simple as a piece of string and a ring.

That's why I do this.

These aren't just old stones.

They're pieces of people's lives.

🇺🇸 Remember the veteran. Remember the story.

08/28/2026

🇺🇸 A Purple Heart, a Nisei Soldier, and a Story of Courage

While working through the Asian section of the cemetery, I came across the headstone of Sadaichi Giichi Soda.

Born January 4, 1925, Sadaichi was a Japanese American from California and a member of the local Japanese American community in Gilroy before World War II. In 1940, his name appears in a newspaper account identifying him as a member of the Golden Eagles in Gilroy.

Then the war changed everything.

Because of his Japanese ancestry, Sadaichi and thousands of other Japanese Americans were forcibly removed from their homes and incarcerated during World War II.

And this is where his story becomes extraordinary.

An April 12, 1943 military document lists:

“Soda, Sadaichi — 120 Salinas Assembly Center, California.”

In other words, while being processed for military service, Sadaichi was listed at the Salinas Assembly Center, one of the temporary detention facilities used during the wartime incarceration of Japanese Americans.

From there, he went on to serve in one of the most decorated units in American military history:

The 442nd Regimental Combat Team, 2nd Battalion, Company H.

The 442nd was composed primarily of Japanese American soldiers who fought for the United States in Europe.

Sadaichi wasn’t simply wearing the uniform. He went into combat.

Military records specifically list Pvt. Sadaichi Soda as wounded in action, serving with Company H.

For that sacrifice, he received the Purple Heart, along with the Combat Infantryman Badge.

Think about the contradiction of his story.

His country incarcerated him because of his ancestry — and he answered by serving that same country in combat.

He was wounded fighting for the United States.

That’s what the Purple Heart on this headstone represents.

Sadaichi returned home after the war and went on to live his life in California. He died on March 3, 2003, at the age of 78.

Today, his name is carved into a stone here in the cemetery.

This is why I do what I do with Valor Stone Restoration.

I’m not just cleaning headstones.

I’m uncovering the stories behind them.

And some stories deserve to be remembered.

Thank you for your service, Sadaichi.

Thank you for your sacrifice. 🇺🇸

08/27/2026

🇺🇸 He Was Put Behind Barbed Wire. Then He Put On the Uniform.

While cleaning veteran headstones at Gavilan Hills Memorial Park, I came across the stone of Masaru “Moose” Kunimura.

At first glance, it’s a simple World War II grave marker:

Masaru Kunimura
Tec 4 — U.S. Army
World War II

But there is a much deeper story behind those words.

Moose was a Japanese-American from right here in Gilroy.

After the attack on Pearl Harbor, Japanese-Americans across California were forcibly removed from their homes and incarcerated simply because of their ancestry. Moose and other Japanese residents of Gilroy were sent to an incarceration camp in Arizona.

And then something remarkable happened.

The United States called him to serve.

Moose was drafted into the U.S. Army and put on the same uniform as thousands of other young Americans going off to fight a world war.

Think about the courage and loyalty that must have taken.

His country had taken away his freedom because of where his family came from.

Yet when America needed soldiers, he didn’t turn his back on his country.

He served it.

He wore the uniform.

He came home.

And today, more than 80 years later, his headstone is still here in Gilroy reminding us of that story.

There is something deeply powerful about that.

He was Japanese by ancestry.
He was American by citizenship.
And when his country called, he served the United States of America.

History isn’t always simple. Sometimes it’s complicated, uncomfortable, and difficult to understand from today’s perspective.

But that’s exactly why these veterans deserve to be remembered.

Every headstone has a story.

Sometimes, you just have to stop long enough to uncover it.

Rest easy, Tec 4 Masaru “Moose” Kunimura. Your service is remembered. 🇺🇸

08/25/2026

08/24/2026

THE STORY BEHIND THE STONE: WILBERT “BERT” BURDICK
Part 3 of 3 🇺🇸

The newspaper articles in Part 2 told us what Bert Burdick did in combat.

But there was another side to his story—one that could only come from his family.

Bert’s son, Michael, told me that his dad didn’t talk much about what he experienced during the war. Like so many veterans, he carried much of it with him and didn’t often speak about it.

But he did share two stories with his son that Michael shared with me.

The first took place while Bert and his platoon were moving through a gully in the Philippines.

Their point man had gotten too far ahead of the group, and the rest of the soldiers were moving forward to catch up with him. Suddenly, four Japanese soldiers popped up approximately 30 yards away and began raising their weapons.

Bert was carrying his BAR.

He opened fire and shot all four.

It was a moment of combat that lasted only seconds, but it was something Bert remembered for the rest of his life.

Michael told me that when his father eventually shared this story with him, Bert had tears in his eyes as he talked about what he had done.

The second story was about a different kind of close call.

Bert was working his way up a hill and pulled himself onto a ledge. As he came over the top, a Japanese mortar round landed less than two feet from him.

It didn’t explode. The fins of the mortar were just spinning and spinning but no detonation.

Bert slid back down the hill and stayed there for about 20 minutes, realizing just how close he had come to losing his life. When he told Michael this story, Bert said similar too, “I wonder if those mortar fins are still spinning up there!”

Two stories.

Two moments separated by time, but both showing just how close Bert lived to death during the war.

And perhaps the most telling thing is that these were among the few stories he chose to share.

We often look at a veteran’s medals and decorations and see courage, sacrifice and service.

But we don’t always think about what those experiences meant after the uniform came off.

The war affected Bert, just as war has affected generations of veterans before him and continues to affect veterans today.

We can’t know everything he carried with him.

But we can remember him.

We can remember that behind the Bronze Star, the uniform, the BAR and the newspaper articles was a young man who went to war, survived experiences most of us can hardly imagine, and eventually came home to build a life and a family.

When I first cleaned Bert’s headstone, I saw a name.

Through his son, the wartime articles and these two stories, I came to understand that there was a whole human being behind that name.

Wilbert “Bert” Burdick
1919–2012
Staff Sergeant, U.S. Army
38th Infantry Division — 151st Infantry Regiment

Michael, thank you for sharing your father’s story with me and allowing us to remember him not just for what he did in the war, but for the man he was when he came home.

And Bert—

Thank you for your service. We will not forget what you sacrificed. 🇺🇸

08/23/2026

THE STORY BEHIND THE STONE: WILBERT “BERT” BURDICK
Part 2 of 3 🇺🇸

In Part 1, I introduced Wilbert “Bert” Burdick, a Gilroy man who served as a Staff Sergeant with the 151st Infantry Regiment, 38th Infantry Division, during World War II.

I mentioned that his son, Michael, shared something extraordinary with me: original wartime newspaper articles from Gilroy that actually identified Bert and described his actions in combat.

This is where Bert’s story gets real.

One article describes Bert as an automatic rifleman with an assault detachment fighting its way through Japanese positions in the Philippines.

Over four days of fighting, the detachment destroyed five pillboxes, a Japanese command post, four ammunition dumps and several heavy mortar positions, while also clearing b***y traps and other fortified positions.

The second article describes another action involving Bert’s platoon near Blue Nose Hill, east of Manila, in the area of Mt. Mapalad.

According to the contemporary newspaper account, Bert and his fellow soldiers reached their objective while under fire and four Japanese soldiers were killed and three knee mortars were captured.

The platoon continued its advance the following morning, destroying another enemy position and capturing a large mortar and three machine guns.

The article reported that eight enemy soldiers were accounted for during the action.

And there is one detail that I think is important.

The original newspaper headline uses terminology that was common in American newspapers during World War II but is considered derogatory today. I have intentionally not repeated that language here. I’m sharing the original clipping because it is a historical document and an important part of Bert’s story, but the language belongs to the era of the article—not to how we speak about those who fought in that war today.

What makes these articles so meaningful is that Bert Burdick wasn’t just one of thousands of names on a roster.

His name appeared in a Gilroy newspaper during the war.

His actions were witnessed by the men who fought beside him.

And decades later, his son still remembers the stories his father brought home from the Philippines.

Bert was a BAR gunner—an automatic rifleman whose job was to provide firepower for his infantry squad. The newspaper accounts give us a glimpse of what that actually meant in combat.

When I first cleaned Bert’s headstone, I saw his name, his rank, his service and his Bronze Star.

Now we know there was a much bigger story behind those words.

And there is still one more part to this story.

In Part 3, I’ll share two stories Bert told his son about what happened to him in combat—stories that show not only how close he came to death, but also the emotional weight he carried home from the war.

Wilbert “Bert” Burdick — Staff Sergeant, U.S. Army.

We remember. 🇺🇸

Stay tuned for part 3!

08/22/2026

THE STORY BEHIND THE STONE: WILBERT “BERT” BURDICK
Part 1 of 3 🇺🇸

When I first came across this headstone at Gavilan Hills Memorial Park, I saw what I see on so many of the veteran stones I clean:

Wilbert “Bert” Burdick
U.S. Army — Staff Sergeant
World War II
Bronze Star Medal

But I had no idea how much history was behind those few lines.

Bert Burdick was born in 1919 and was a Gilroy man. During World War II, he served with the 38th Infantry Division, 151st Infantry Regiment, as an automatic rifleman—a BAR (Browning Automatic Rifle) gunner.

The 38th Infantry Division fought its way through the Philippines, and Bert was there for some of the toughest fighting of the campaign. His service included combat on Luzon and participation in amphibious operations.

His military decorations included the Bronze Star Medal, the Combat Infantryman Badge, the Philippine Liberation Ribbon, and the Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal.

But when I cleaned this stone, I didn’t know any of that.

I just saw the name.

That changed when I was able to make contact with Bert’s son, Michael, who shared photographs, family memories, and something I never expected —a couple of original wartime newspaper articles that actually tell the story of Bert in combat.

Those articles paint a very different picture of the man behind this stone.

They tell us about a young Gilroy soldier carrying a BAR into some incredibly dangerous fighting in the Philippines.

And his son has also shared two stories that Bert carried with him for the rest of his life—stories that give us a glimpse into what war really meant to the men who fought it.

I’ll share those in Part 2 and Part 3.

For now, I’m just grateful that a headstone that could have remained nothing more than a name and a few dates led me to the family—and ultimately to the story behind the stone.

Wilbert “Bert” Burdick — 1919–2012.

Thank you for your service, sir. It was an honor and a privilege to care for your headstone. 🇺🇸

Valor Stone Restoration
Honoring those who served by caring for the stones that remember them.

08/21/2026

🇺🇸 REMEMBERING STAFF SERGEANT WILLIAM T. HENRY 🇺🇸

While cleaning veteran headstones at Gavilan Hills Memorial Park, I came across the marker of Staff Sergeant William T. Henry, U.S. Army, a World War II veteran.

William was born December 12, 1918, and passed away November 4, 1996.

One detail on his marker immediately caught my attention:

PURPLE HEART – 1 OAK LEAF CLUSTER

That small inscription tells an important part of his story. The Purple Heart recognizes service members who were wounded or otherwise qualified for the award as a result of their military service. An Oak Leaf Cluster represents a subsequent award, meaning William Henry received two Purple Hearts.

We don’t yet know the circumstances surrounding those awards. I’m still researching his military records, his unit, where he served, and hopefully the story behind those two Purple Hearts.

His marker also carries a simple but powerful reminder of the life waiting for him at home:

“BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER.”

There is so much more to a veteran than the few lines carved into a headstone. Sometimes those few lines are where the research begins.

For now, we know that Staff Sergeant William T. Henry served his country during World War II and was recognized with two Purple Hearts.

I’ll keep digging to see if we can uncover the rest of his story.

His service should not be forgotten. 🇺🇸