First Hand Internment Accounts

Commission on Wartime Relocation and Internment of Civilians

From a Report published in 1983

Our house was in from Garden Grove Boulevard about 200 yards on a dirt driveway and on the day before the posted evacuation date, there was a line up of cars in our driveway extending about another 200 yards in both directions along Garden Grove Boulevard, waiting their turn to come to our house . . .

            Hiroshi Kamei, Los Angeles, August 6, 1981

Swarms of people came daily to our home to see what they could buy.  A grand piano for $50 . . . One man offered $500 for the house

            Henry Yoshitake, Montebello, CA, unsolicited testimony

It is difficult to describe the feeling of despair and humiliation experienced by all of us as we watched the Caucasians coming to look over our possessions and offering such nominal amounts knowing we had no recourse but to accept whatever they were offering because we did not know what the future held for us.

            Yasuko Ito, San Francisco, August 13, 1981

People who were like vultures swooped down on us going through our belongings offering us a fraction of their value.  When we complained to them of the low price they would respond by saying, “you can’t take it with you so take it or leave it.”

            Roy Abbey, San Francisco, unsolicited testimony

On May 16, 1942, my mother, two sisters, niece, nephew, and I left . . . by train.  Father joined us later.  Brother left earlier by bus.  We took whatever we could carry.  So much we left behind, but the most valuable thing I lost was my freedom.

            Teru Watanabe, Los Angeles, August 6, 1981

I lost my identity.  At that time, I didn’t even have a Social Security number, but the WRA [War Relocation Authority] gave me an I. D. number.  That was my identification.  I lost my privacy and my dignity.

            Betty Matsuo, San Francisco, August 11, 1981

At the entrance [to the Tanforan assembly center] . . . stood two lines of troops with rifles and fixed bayonets pointed at the evacuees as they walked between the soldiers to the prison compound.  Overwhelmed with bitterness and blind rage, I screamed every obscenity I knew at the armed guards daring them to shoot at me.

            William Kochiyama, New York, November 23, 1981

On May 16, 1942 at 9:30 a.m., we departed . . . for an unknown destination.  To this day, I can remember vividly the plight of the elderly, some on stretchers, orphans herded onto the train by caretakers, and especially a young couple with four pre-school children.  The mother had two frightened toddlers hanging on to her coat.  In her arms, she carried two crying babies.  The father had diapers and other baby paraphernalia strapped to his back.  In his hands he struggled with duffel bag and suitcase.  The shades were drawn on the train for our entire trip.  Military police patrolled the aisles.

            Grace Nakamura, Los Angeles, August 6, 1981

At Parker, Arizona, we were transferred to buses.  With baggage and carryalls hanging from my arm, I was contemplating what I could leave behind, since my husband was not allowed to come to my aid.  A soldier said, “Let me help you, put your arm out.”  He proceeded to pile everything on my arm.  And to my horror, he placed my two month old baby on top of the stack.  He then pushed me with the butt of the gun and told me to get off the train, knowing when I stepped off the train my baby would fall to the ground.  I refused.  But he kept prodding and ordering me to move.  I will always be thankful [that] a lieutenant checking the cars came upon us.  He took the baby down, gave her to me, and then ordered the soldier to carry all our belongings to the bus and see that I was seated and then report back to him.

            Shizuko S. Tokushige, San Francisco, August 12, 1981

When we first arrived at Minidoka [relocation center in Idaho], everyone was forced to use outhouses since the sewer system had not been built.  For about a year, the residents had to brave the cold and the stench of these accommodations.

            Shuzo C. Kato, Seattle, September 9, 1981 

The most tragic, as well as traumatic, event that happened during my stay in Tule Lake that still remains with me is the questionnaire with the loyalty oath that was required of all of us to answer.  I have never even mentioned this to my children.  This, as you may know, was a controversial document that affected each of us 17 years of age or older, in one way or another.  We were forced into concentration camps by the government, and then we were being forced into taking a loyalty oath.  Furthermore, at this point there was no indication as to what the consequences would be for refusing.  We had area block meetings on the issue . . . We voted, at that time, as a block, not to sign the loyalty oath.

            Frank Kageta, San Francisco, August 13, 1981

Not only had our government disregarded our citizenship [and] put us behind barbed wire, but now was asking these same citizens to foreswear [sic] allegiance to the Emperor of Japan and to swear allegiance to the United States as if at one time all of us had sworn allegiance to the Japanese emperor.

            Ben Takeshita, San Francisco, August 11, 1981

Our block was located on the southwest corner of the [Tule Lake] camp grounds.  The double barbed wire fence was just beyond the next barrack from our compartment.  A guard tower with uniformed men and weapons were in view at all times.  Search lights were beamed onto the camp grounds at night.  Uniformed men with weapons driving around in jeeps was a common sight.  As a result of this experience, I used to be afraid of any white male adult for a very long time.

Demonstrations in protest of one thing or other were frequent.  We very often locked ourselves in our room to avoid participating in these demonstrations.  Physical violence and verbal abuses were common at these demonstrations where feelings ran high.  And whenever a large demonstration took place, we could always expect the camp authorities to send out soldiers to search our rooms for contraband.  These searches were very thorough and everything was ransacked.

Life in Tule Lake Segregation Camp for children was not very pleasant.  There was very little to do for entertainment.  Toys were scarce.  We often played hopscotch using the coal pieces from the pile in front of the bathroom area.

            Taeko Sakai Okamura, San Francisco, August 13, 1981

Prisoners in the “bull pen” were housed outdoors in tents without heat and with no protection against the bitter cold.  The bunks were placed directly on the cold ground, and the prisoners had only one or two blankets and no extra clothing to ward off the winter chill.  And, for the first time in our lives, those of us confined to the “bull pen” experienced a life and death struggle for survival, the unbearable pain from our unattended and infected wounds, and the penetrating December cold of Tule Lake, a God Forsaken concentration camp lying near the Oregon border, and I shall never forget that horrible experience.

            Tokio Yamane, unsolicited testimony (location and date not given)

All this was done despite the fact that not a single documented act of espionage, sabotage or fifth column activity was committed by an American citizen of Japanese ancestry or by a resident Japanese alien on the West Coast

            Commission on Wartime Relocation and Internment of Civilians, Personal Justice Denied, 1983