Or might they treat him as a human being?
That would be a welcome change.
Fueled by rage, loss, and a fever to strike back in the only way he could, Taizo picked up his pencil, answered No to Question 27 and an even more emphatic NO to Question 28, and handed in his questionnaire.
He did not wait for Etsuko, Dai, and Rose to finish their questionnaires, and he did not tell them how he had answered. This was his decision alone; he would not allow them to follow his example out of filial piety. Outside the mess hall, it was ninety degrees in the shade and blustery winds blew hot from the north; but when he took in a deep breath of the air, it still tasted sweeter, purer, than it had to him since he had left Florin.
* * *
As the WRA had hoped, the relocation program began picking up speed almost immediately, with a hundred internees departing Manzanar in March for work furlough jobs in Grand Junction, Colorado; Chicago, Illinois; Madison, Wisconsin; and scores of other communities. Ruth’s neighbor, Alice Arikawa, left for a job as a civilian clerk for the Army in Washington, D.C.—clearly with two brothers in the military, her loyalty was not in question. That number grew to three in June, when nineteen-year-old Burns Arikawa also enlisted. Mrs. Arikawa was sad to see them go but obviously very proud as well. None of this surprised Ruth—this family was more patriotic and sacrificing than most white families she knew—but what did surprise her was, on the same day Burns enlisted, Ralph dropped by to tell Ruth and Frank that he, too, had volunteered for the Army.
“What!” Ruth was flabbergasted. “You’re kidding!”
“Nope. I leave for the recruiting center in Salt Lake City on the twelfth.”
“Well—congratulations,” Frank said brightly. “We had no idea you were even considering this.”
“Been thinking about it for a couple months. Writing all those flag-waving stories for the paper just started to feel so goddamn hypocritical. I really do believe the U.S. has to win this war, but I wasn’t willing to put my money where my mouth was. It may not be fair that Nisei have to prove our loyalty by fighting for this country, but if that’s what it takes to convince the hajukin that we’re Americans too, then somebody’s got to do it.”
Ruth was badly shaken. “But why does that somebody have to be you?”
“Why not? I’m single, no dependents. What good am I doing in Manzanar, writing for a government-censored newspaper in a concentration camp? At least I’ll get the hell out of here. And if I die, I’ll die a free man.”
Ruth suddenly burst into tears, jumped to her feet, and ran outside.
Ralph, genuinely nonplussed, looked to Frank. “Wow. I didn’t see that coming. Um, which one of us goes after her?”
“I think you do.” Frank smiled. “You’ve known her longer.”
Ralph followed the sound of weeping to the ladies’ latrine, where he paused at the threshold.
“Sis? It’s gonna be okay. I shouldn’t have said that, I’m not gonna die.”
The weeping stopped, and in a few moments Ruth came out, looked at her brother—and punched him in his left arm, just below the shoulder.
“Oww!” he cried out. “What the hell was that for?”
“Damn it, Ralph, why are you are always getting yourself into trouble?”
Ralph rubbed his arm. “That hurt. You’re mean.”
“Sorry. Reflex action.”
Ralph said gently, “I won’t always have my sister to help bail me out of trouble. It’s time I started doing that for myself.”
“But it’s you who’ve always helped me. From my very first day, when you showed me how to use chopsticks.”
He laughed. “Didn’t think you remembered that.”
“I remember you helping me with chopsticks and later walking with me to my new school. Everything important.” She dried her eyes on the sleeve of her blouse. “God, I could use a stiff drink right now.”
“One of my roommates has a still. He brews a pretty decent beer.”
“Sold. Get some for Frank too. We’ll toast to your enlistment.” She hugged him, and as she did she said softly, “You’d damn well better not die.”
* * *
Taizo and Etsuko greeted the news as stoically as they could manage, with a mix of pride and fear. Burns Arikawa and Ralph left Manzanar together. Burns’s mother, Teru, added a third blue star to the service flag hanging in their barrack window, as Etsuko quietly hung up her first.
But by late summer it became clear that there had been an additional purpose to the registration program.
Beginning in August, a review board began “segregation hearings” in Manzanar and the other nine internment camps for those who answered “no-no,” in order to determine those who were disloyal to the United States. The aim was to isolate them, along with other “troublemakers”—the latter including many who simply had stood up for their civil rights—in a single camp: the newly rechristened Tule Lake Segregation Center in Northern California.
Manzanar’s Project Director, Ralph Merritt, stressed to the residents that everyone would have an opportunity to clarify or recant his or her answers to Questions 27 and 28; the people sent to Tule Lake would not be mistreated in any way, but removing them from the general population would allow the “loyal” residents of Manzanar to live here free of insecurity and unrest.
Taizo’s notice came on August 20. At first he tried to hide it, but when Etsuko finally saw it he tried to dismiss it. “Many men are being asked to appear. They cannot send us all away, can they?”
“Why are they asking you to appear, Otōsan? You did answer the last two questions ‘yes-yes,’ did you not?” When he failed to respond she snapped, “Taizo, answer me! Did you say ‘yes-yes’?”
“Everything will be all right, Okāsan. Trust me. And do not tell anyone else of this. There is no use worrying over a hearing before it has happened.”
Etsuko did not like this but honored his wishes, saying nothing to Ruth or Horace at dinner and sleeping barely a wink that night.
The next morning Taizo put on his business suit and reported to Block 31’s recreation building where the Segregation Board—consisting of Ralph Merritt and three other administration officials—greeted him and asked him to sit down in front of the rec table where the board sat.
Merritt said, “Mr. Watanabe, our records show that you answered ‘no’ to Question 28. Was that, in fact, your answer?”
“Yes,” Taizo replied, “it was.”
“Do you believe you understood the question when you answered it?”
“Yes.”
A woman, Miss Adams, spoke up: “Did you make the answer of your own free will without influence, threats, or pressure from others?”
“Yes.”
“Did your answer mean that you were not loyal to the true principles of the U.S. government as you understand them?” she asked.
“No. I believe in those principles. Or … I used to.”
“So was your ‘no’ answer, then,” Merritt said carefully, “intended merely as a protest against what you considered unfairness and discrimination against you like evacuation and detention, and not intended to indicate that you were either loyal to Japan or disloyal to the U.S.?”
Taizo considered that a long moment, then answered, “If I swore loyalty to America, would America repay my loyalty with citizenship?”
Merritt sighed. “Not at this time.”
“And if I swear allegiance to America and Japan wins the war, will the Japanese government then brand me a traitor because of that?”
Merritt said, “I can’t answer that, Mr. Watanabe.”
“We Japanese value fidelity and honor above all, Mr. Merritt. If I reject allegiance to Japan, I will become a man without a country, and possibly a traitor to be executed. If I reject allegiance to America, I will either be segregated or deported. The second choice seems less fatal.”
“Mr. Watanabe, would you like to answer Questions 27 and 28 today in the affirmative? Say ‘yes’ to them? Th
ere’s still time to change your answers.”
Taizo shook his head and said, “No.”
“Do you wish to make any statement?”
“Yes. I do.”
Taizo sat straighter in his seat as he weighed his words.
“I came to America forty years ago carrying nothing but a bedroll, because I heard it was a place that welcomed all who were willing to work hard. I labored on the plantation ten hours a day, six days a week, for ninety cents a day. I saved enough to move to Honolulu and start my own business. I paid taxes like everyone else. I came to California, and even though I was denied the rights of a citizen, I believed in ‘American principles.’ I believed my children would have even more opportunities. I listened to them practice the Pledge of Allegiance for school and I was proud. They were Americans!” He smiled at the memory of his children’s bright faces, but the smile quickly faded. “Then war came, and America was quick to cast aside its principles. Can you tell me, Mr. Merritt, that that pledge still means something? ‘Liberty and justice for all’?”
Frustrated, Merritt said, “We are trying to give you back that liberty.”
“And will I get back the life America took away from me? Will there be justice for me and for my family?”
This was met by embarrassed silence from the board members.
“For me it is a question of honor, Mr. Merritt,” Taizo said in conclusion. “If America is not willing to honor its own principles … how can I?”
Merritt looked genuinely saddened. He glanced at the three other board members, each of whom nodded wordlessly. Merritt turned back to Taizo and said, “I respect your view, Mr. Watanabe, and that is your choice. Unfortunately you give me no other choice but to order your transfer to Tule Lake Segregation Center. If members of your family wish to join you there, they may apply for transfer. You will have all the same rights at Tule Lake that you have in Manzanar, except for the right to apply for leave clearance. You will be there for the duration of the war. Do you understand?”
Taizo said he did, and with that, the hearing was over.
* * *
“Why, Papa, why?”
Ruth struggled to understand the inexplicable. She was not the only one. The family was gathered again in Taizo and Etsuko’s apartment—all but Rose, who was looking after the children—and their shock at what Taizo had told them was matched only by their heartache.
“A man is nothing without honor,” Taizo said simply. “They have taken everything else from me, but they will not take away my honor.”
“‘Everything’? What about us?” Ruth shot back. “Doesn’t your family matter more than your honor?”
Taizo smiled. “On the contrary—it is for all of you that I do this. As the proverb says: Ikka no memboku to naru, ‘To bring honor to the house.’”
“Proverbs!” Ruth was as incredulous as she was angry. “Good God! They’re putting you in a stalag and you’re quoting proverbs?”
“I do not expect you to understand, Dai,” Taizo said gently. “You are American. I do not expect anyone else to agree with or follow me.”
“I will follow you,” Etsuko said flatly. “I am your wife.”
“Okāsan, that is not necess—”
“I am your wife.” Etsuko laid down the words like a gauntlet. Taizo knew better than to pick it up. He simply nodded.
“We’ll all go with you,” Horace declared. “I’ll tell the WRA I want to change my answer to ‘no-no’!”
“No, you will not,” Taizo replied.
“So will I,” Ruth said stubbornly.
“No. You. Will. Not!”
Ruth flinched; she had never heard her father truly shout before.
“You are all Americans,” Taizo said. “That is what we raised you to be—to be accepted in this country. These old Issei who demand their children answer ‘no-no’ out of loyalty are fools. You must go your way, and I must go mine. We can only be true to ourselves. And I will not see my grandchildren raised in a ‘stalag,’ if that it is what Tule Lake turns out to be.”
This last arrow found its mark. Ruth began to see how hopeless this was. How could she take her children somewhere that might be even worse?
“Dai—Haruo—do not worry,” Jiro said. “Nishi and I will also be at Tule Lake, at least until a prisoner exchange is arranged for us. We will be there to help Taizo if needed.”
“I do not need any more of your help,” Taizo said sharply.
“And tomorrow,” Etsuko declared, “I will apply for permission to accompany my husband.”
Tears sprang to Ruth’s eyes at the thought of losing both her mother and her father for the duration of the war. But she knew not to try to dissuade Etsuko once she had reached a decision.
Etsuko slipped her hand into Taizo’s and said, “What is done is done.”
He nodded. “We shall gaman.”
* * *
The first contingent of 288 evacuees was scheduled to leave Manzanar on October 9, 1943, Taizo among them. Etsuko had applied for transfer to Tule Lake, but she would have to wait. Ten thousand “disloyals” from the nine other internment camps had been sent to Tule Lake in the first month of the program. The camp had originally been designed to house some fifteen thousand people, and adequate housing was at a premium. Etsuko was frustrated to learn she would have to wait until more barracks were constructed at Tule.
That morning in October the Watanabe family rose well before dawn, even the children, who had been told that their grandfather and Uncle Jiro and Aunt Nishi would be “going away for a while.” For their sakes Ruth did her best to stay calm and be brave in the face of the thing she had feared the most her entire life: losing her family. Ralph’s leaving was a jolt; this felt like an earthquake, and Ruth struggled to maintain her balance.
One by one everyone said their goodbyes. The children, still drowsy with sleep, each hugged Taizo in turn.
Ruth embraced her father. “I love you, Otōsan.”
“And I have loved you, Dai, since the moment the sisters brought you to us and you told us excitedly how you went to the zoo and saw a bear and a monkey and an elephant and a lion.”
“Did I say that?” Ruth said, smiling.
He nodded. “And your eyes were so full of love and tenderness that I knew you would grow up to be a fine woman.”
Tears streamed down Ruth’s face, and Taizo’s glistened as well. But before she could reply, there was a knock on the door.
It was Taizo’s WRA escort. Idling behind him was the panel truck that would take him and 287 other “segregees” to the Lone Pine railroad station, where a special train bound for Tule Lake would be leaving at ten A.M.
Unembarrassed by the presence of the escort, Etsuko gave Taizo a tender kiss. “I will be with you soon, my love. My place is always with you.”
Taizo followed the escort to the truck. Watching him, Ruth felt sorrow, loss, but also, she had to admit, an ineffable pride as he walked forward with dignity and grace—hewing to a path she feared she would never fully comprehend.
* * *
Etsuko now found herself alone in the apartment, and that night the twenty-by-twenty-five-foot room seemed larger than it ever had—and achingly empty. Etsuko resolved to be brave and curled up on her cot, her back turned to her husband’s empty cot. But her resolve soon crumbled and she began to weep, wishing that this was all a terrible dream she could rouse from and find Taizo beside her, back in their old bedroom overlooking the strawberry fields. Her Buddhist faith told her she had to let go of what was and face what is, but how could she let go of a man who was a part of her, a man she had lain beside and loved for forty years?
She wept as softly as she could, but after five minutes she heard the click of the door opening, the sound of someone padding toward her, then lying down in Taizo’s cot. For an instant she allowed herself the fantasy that it was he, that he had changed his mind and returned to her. But the reality was almost as comforting. She heard her daughter’s voice whispering “Sssh, sshh,
it’s all right, Okāsan,” and then Ruth’s body inched over and held Etsuko, comforting her as Etsuko had comforted Ruth as a child. And now Etsuko wept in gratitude for the welcome warmth of her daughter’s arm draped across her, for her gentle assurances, and for the gift that Ruth had always been to her.
Chapter 12
1943–1944
Tule Lake Segregation Center was a two-and-a-half-square-mile city resting on a dry lake bottom; the sandy soil was stubbornly resistant to green growth and yielded little in the way of shade. Unlike the mountainous walls surrounding Manzanar, here there were only low hills, an ancient volcanic crater the internees dubbed Abalone Mountain, and the broken crown of a volcanic butte known as Castle Rock. The camp was secured with a battalion of a thousand military police on a base outside and twenty-eight guard towers with search beacons ablaze at night like the burning eyes of God.
The registration clerk tried to assign Jiro, Nishi, and Taizo to the same apartment, but Taizo insisted on rooming apart from Jiro. He ended up sharing an apartment—filthy and reeking of cigarette smoke—with two bachelors more interested in gambling than housekeeping. The block manager, a man in his thirties named Yamasora, brought Taizo a broom and fresh bed linens. Yamasora, like Taizo, came from Okayama-ken and the two hit it off, chatting about their old home, soon to be Yamasora’s home once more (he was at Tule because he had applied for repatriation to Japan). After Taizo’s corner of the apartment was made more habitable, Yamasora offered him a tour of the camp’s facilities, including the well-stocked canteens, and invited him to dinner. Standing in line at the mess hall, they were strafed by the cold knife’s edge of a wind that set Taizo to shivering so badly that, once inside, it took two cups of hot tea to thaw him.
“Hah! And this is a warm night,” Yamasora told him.
Later, Taizo composed a carefully worded letter to Etsuko:
Daughter of Moloka'i Page 19
