
Company E of the 141st Infantry Regiment is a special part of U.S. military history. It was the sole Army company composed of Mexican American troops, all of whom were from El Paso’s Segundo Barrio. What began as a unit from a local neighborhood would continue on to have a legacy characterized by brotherhood, sacrifice, and strength in the face of two battles: one abroad and the other at home.

Their tale starts in the early 1920s. Then, the Texas National Guard had a dream: to “educate, train, and Americanize” young Mexican Americans of El Paso. The Colonel Will Jackson idea came about. The belief was that serving in the military could bring order and pride to a largely neglected community. Even though they were American citizens, many of these young men endured second-class treatment—separate schools, few jobs, and a society that viewed them as outsiders.

But these boys weren’t unfamiliar with the concept of service. They were proud to be from where they were from, and even more proud to earn their place in the nation they considered home. By 1923, Company E was formally known. Through the years, they earned a reputation as one of the state’s finest units. Their rifle team was unstoppable, winning regimental championships year after year, for eight years in a row.

When World War II broke out, Company E was mobilized in the 36th Infantry Division. These men trained diligently at Camp Bowie in Texas under such leaders as First Sergeant Lorenzo M. Luna and Captain John L. Chapin. These men had been raised together, attended the same classrooms, and played ball in the same dusty fields. Now, they were trained and prepared to go to war as brothers-in-arms.

In 1943, they were shipped to North Africa, and from there, were part of the Allied invasion of Italy at Salerno—Operation Avalanche. It was their first combat experience. The landscape was tough, the foe obstinate, and the price high. Company E kept up. They fought in close quarters, across boulder-strewn landscapes, and under a hail of bullets, gaining respect for their toughness and courage. Then the Rapido River.

The 36th Division was instructed in January 1944 to cross the Rapido at Cassino. It was a diversion for the Anzio Allied landing that took place later on a much bigger scale. However, it was evident right from the beginning that the operation was risky. Division commander General Fred L. Walker himself acknowledged even in his diary: “We might succeed, but I do not know how we can.” The river was broad, swift, and lethal—50 feet wide and 15 feet deep, with German soldiers entrenched on the opposite bank.

The result was a disaster. Within two days, more than 2,000 Americans were killed, wounded, or taken prisoner—Company E included. 27 enlisted men survived. Zero officers survived. The unit was broken. Men such as Manuel “Manny” Rivera and Ricardo Palacios were left to survive. Rivera matter-of-factly stated, “If you weren’t wounded, killed, or captured, you weren’t at the river.” Palacios was captured and was a prisoner of war for more than a year. He recalled the evening before crossing, the terror, the anxiety, and the sense that many would not return.

Following Rapido, Company E, as an independent unit, ceased to exist. Its survivors were integrated into other units. Replacements arrived—no longer all from El Paso, no longer all Mexican American. The close-knit brotherhood that had characterized Company E had been forever changed.

For years, their service remained largely unremarked. Back in El Paso, a tiny baseball field on Delta Street was the lone public reminder of their sacrifice. But time and the work of families and local historians altered that. Now, the city remembers them with monuments such as “The Men of Company E” at Delta Park and the newer “Treacherous Crossing” downtown statue. These memorials weren’t controversy-free—families argued whose names to carve in stone, a reflection of memory, records, and war’s messiness.

When the survivors came back home, they didn’t fade into oblivion. Several more were subjected to ongoing discrimination, but now they were veterans. And that granted them a louder voice. Their battle for freedom abroad motivated them to battle for equality back home. Organizations such as the Alianza Hispano-Americana and the American GI Forum—both headed by returning vets—started fighting against segregation and injustice. These veterans returned home with a determination that their children would not have to live with the same constraints they had.

Ultimately, the legacy of Company E is more than a war chapter. It’s a chapter on identity, community, and a struggle to belong. Their blood at the Rapido River informed the world what they were capable of. But their most lasting effect might have come after the war, as their bravery opened doors to more civil rights and respect for Mexican Americans all over America.