Outside the Studio

The other day I went to three Asian nations, all the while remaining about a kilometer from my home. Each year, embassies in Washington open their doors in a show of goodwill and national promotion. Technically, each embassy is a part of that nation, so in effect, I stepped onto foreign soil within the confines of my home city. Embassies are scattered throughout Washington. The logistics of distance and time helped decide the “countries” I visited – Malaysia, Pakistan and Bangladesh.

For the general public, there was a lot to see and experience. Displays of art and clothing were common. All had some sort of regional food to try, many to the accompaniment of regional musicians. I saw many expats enjoying familiar glimpses of home.

My view undoubtedly was slightly different, coming through the lens of covering and flowing news events from each of these countries for years. I heard no mention of the missing Malaysia Airlines flight at the Malaysian Embassy. Neither mention of the Taliban nor a photo of former president Pervez Musharraf were evident at the Pakistani Embassy. Poor working conditions at garment factories in Bangladesh were not part of a display of the country’s exports.

As a journalist, it’s easy sometimes to lose sight of anything else happening in these countries other than the stories widely reported. Of course I really didn’t expect to see anything related to these topics at the embassies, and it was a nice respite. There are so many positive things to experience in every country. I’m glad I went “to Asia,” I hope to visit many more times. My only regret is they don’t open the doors like this more often through the year.

Early last month, the first U.S. Marine Corps officer of Chinese descent died at his home in Washington D.C. Major Kurt Chew-Een Lee (pinyin: Lǚ Chāorán) was 88. I had the opportunity to meet and speak with him several years ago as the Smithsonian was unveiling a one-hour television documentary about his heroic service during the Korean war, specifically Major Lee’s brave deeds at the Chosin Reservoir in what is now North Korea.

The battle in 1950 was one of the U.S. Marine Corps’ finest hours. Greatly outnumbered by Chinese and North Korean forces, the Marines led United Nations troops to safety.

Lee was born in Hawaii. His family, all of Chinese descent, were living in California by time World War II had begun. Standing next to him, I struggled to imagine Lee as the ferocious fighter described by one of his fellow Marines. Lee was short, slim, quiet and gracious. But he told me he enlisted with the Marines to counter what he called the “meek, obsequious, bland Asian” stereotype in the United States.

Major Lee proved himself extremely valuable when he single handedly exposed a Chinese gun position, yelling in Mandarin “don’t shoot, I’m Chinese.” The ploy gave his unit just enough time to successfully attack when all other options would likely have failed. Then with a broken arm in mountainous terrain at night in sub-freezing temperatures during a heavy snowstorm, he led about 500 U.S. Marines to reinforce and rescue other troops.

About 90% of his rifle unit were killed or wounded. Lee himself was shot and evacuated from the battle. He was later awarded the prestigious Navy Cross.

Late in life, Lee told his story to me and others as if it had just happened. He said he was never afraid. Lee figured he was destined to die in combat there, so he wanted his death to be both “honorable and spectacular.”

Major Lee did not die in spectacular war-time fashion. He did die with great honor. He defied the odds and lived a long life. That was fortunate for me and all who met him. I will always remember his firsthand accounts of amazing bravery in an overwhelming hostile environment to uphold beliefs and values of freedom that our country holds dear.