Sylvia And Aki

On December 7, 1941, Japanese aircraft attacked Pearl Harbor. The “surprise” attack was due in large part to US military negligence but Japanese Americans were scapegoated in the aftermath waves of anti-Japanese sentiment (Reeves, Richard, Infamy: The Shocking Story of the Japanese American Internment in World War II, 1st ed., Picador, p. 23, 2016). Although several military officers opposed the decision, they were in the minority and were overruled; in 1942, President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed into law Executive Order 9066, “which directed the War Department to create ‘military areas’ that anyone could be excluded from for essentially any reason” (“Japanese American Incarceration.” The National WWII Museum: New Orleans). These ‘military areas’ applied mainly to the West Coast states—that is, California, Oregon, and Washington. Although there was no proof that any of these people were in any way disloyal or spies, over 120,000 Japanese Americans (at least two-thirds of which were born US citizens) were forcibly removed from their homes to various incarceration camps, “often in remote and desolate locales” (“Japanese-American Incarceration During World War II.” National Archives and Records Administration, 2022). They had roughly 48 hours to pack their things—only what they could carry—and make arrangements for the property, homes, and possessions they had to leave behind; many sold their belongings at ridiculously undervalued prices. The Munemitsus were very lucky in this regard—for many, “their homes, farms, businesses, and most of their private belongings were lost forever” (“Japanese-American Incarceration During World War II”), and they had no way to appeal this loss. Like Aki’s family, many Japanese Americans also had to get rid of or destroy heirlooms or Japanese language possessions—even translated Bibles—for fear of being viewed as seditious or suspicious (Reeves 7). Community leaders were often taken first and arrested under the guise of “Suspect Enemy Aliens” (Reeves 3). During transport to the camps, families were given numbered tags to identify themselves and their belongings; family members in the hospital were refused recovery time before incarceration, and at least one person died as a result of this (Reeves 47-48). Train window shades were drawn to avoid publicity and knowledge of their geographic location (Reeves 102).

Arrival at the camps was not much better. Some sites were converted racetracks, in which internees had to live in horse stalls (Reeves 83); at others, “four or five families […] shared tar-papered army-style barracks” (“Japanese-American Incarceration During World War II”). At several locations, families had to finish construction themselves, out of scavenged materials like wood and hay (Reeves 84); “[f]ood shortages and substandard sanitation were prevalent in these facilities” (History.com Editors, “Japanese Internment Camps: WWII, Life & Conditions.” History, 2021). The camps were surrounded by barbed wire and military guards; although these were ostensibly for the internees’ protection, one observed, “If we were put there for our protection, why were the guns at the guard towers pointed inward, instead of outward?” (“Japanese-American Incarceration During World War II”). Although Japanese Americans did their best to improve their lives as best they could—working for little pay, creating furniture, community events, and gardens where they could—by and large, these conditions lasted for the duration of the war. In addition, two of these camps, including Poston, “were located on Native American reservations, despite the protests of tribal councils, who were overruled by the Bureau of Indian Affairs” (History.com).

Smaller populations of Japanese Americans in other areas of the country, however, were not incarcerated but faced anti-Japanese prejudice and discrimination (George, Alice. “Eighty Years After the U.S. Incarcerated 120,000 Japanese Americans, Trauma and Scars Still Remain.” Smithsonian Magazine, 2022). The vast majority of Italian and German citizens were not incarcerated out of fear that doing so would decimate US military forces; ironically, though many Japanese Americans were loyal to the US and wanted to enlist, they were denied (Reeves 176).

Eventually, Japanese Americans were allowed to leave the camps, but only on certain conditions: They could leave for work or school but could not return to the Pacific Coast. To leave, they had to complete “a loyalty test [the Leave Clearance Application], in which they were asked to reject allegiance to the Japanese emperor and assert whether they were willing to serve in the US military” (“Japanese American Incarceration”), also known as questions 27 and 28. Many incarcerated Japanese Americans—especially those who were American citizens, the Nisei—were offended at the implied loyalty to the Japanese emperor (“Japanese American Incarceration”), while the Issei—who were denied American citizenship by law—feared becoming stateless if they renounced their Japanese citizenship (Reeves 159). Those who answered “no” to both questions—called the “No-no Boys”—were deemed “disloyal” and sent to the incarceration camp at Tule Lake, California (“Japanese American Incarceration”). Although their responses are unknown, Aki’s brothers, Seiko and Saylo, were allowed to leave—Seiko to Denver for work and Saylo to school, where he would become a doctor (Munemitsu and Mendez 67). Of those who were allowed to leave the incarceration camps, some were eventually allowed to join the military. Those who were fluent in Japanese were sent as translators and spies to the Pacific Theater to rescue civilians and convince the opposing Japanese combat forces to surrender (Reeves 148-49). Others would form the heroic 442nd Regiment and 100th Infantry Battalion, who were sent to the European Theater and were later awarded the highest ratio of Purple Hearts (Reeves 249) but “suffered a casualty rate of 300% (George). US Senator Daniel Inouye served in the 442nd Regiment and lost a limb in combat. Despite their sacrifices, however, veterans of the 442nd and 100th still faced discrimination upon returning to the U.S. (“Japanese-American Internment.” Harry S. Truman Library & Museum).

Meanwhile, life continued to be difficult for those remaining in the camps. During a forced night march from a train station to the incarceration camp at Lordsburg, New Mexico, where Aki’s father was sent, two elderly and disabled Japanese American men struggling to walk were shot and killed by a sentry; the sentry was deemed not guilty in the subsequent court-martial (History.com). Riots and protests would also occur at other incarceration camps, often over injustices such as other shootings/assaults or food shortages (History.com). Tensions also rose in Tule Lake between communities with opposing viewpoints toward American loyalty, especially after questions 27 and 28 resulted in an influx of “disloyal” internees to an already overcrowded camp (Reeves 181).

Although cooperating with the forced incarceration was the Japanese Americans’ way of “quiet resistance” (Munemitsu and Mendez 56)—proving their loyalty through cooperation—there were others who, like the Mendezes, attempted legal action. Fred Korematsu attempted to refuse the incarceration order; his case, Korematsu v. United States, made it to the Supreme Court. Though he ultimately failed in his argument, he would become an important civil rights activist later in life. Gordon Hirabayashi tried to refuse an imposed curfew and the incarceration order; his case, Hirabayashi v. United States, also failed to achieve his goal. Mitsuye Endo, however, was a proven loyal citizen before the incarceration order; her case, Ex Parte Endo, successfully opposed incarceration via a habeas corpus petition and helped lead to the closing of the incarceration camps (Reeves 234).

On June 25, 1946, President Harry Truman finally signed Executive Order 9742, which ended the incarceration camps and allowed Japanese Americans to return home. However, this did not fully solve the problems created by the controversial Executive Order 9066. Although President Ronald Reagan signed into law the Civil Liberties Act of 1988, “acknowledged the injustice of ‘internment,’ apologized for it, and provided a $20,000 cash payment to each person who was incarcerated” (“Japanese-American Incarceration During World War II”), the incarceration camps remain a shameful part of US history. The Issei and Nisei internees also bear the burden of this trauma; whether or not they were able to discuss it with their families or descendants, the experience remains with them. Janice Munemitsu, Seiko’s daughter, recalls that her mother would often keep scraps of cardboard because it was useful for patching up holes in the camp barracks (Munemitsu and Mendez 89), just as Aki learned not to waste candy/gum wrappers. In addition, Janice postponed a plane trip around September 11, 2001, because her family panicked that they might be suddenly taken away again and no one would know (Munemitsu and Mendez 90-91). This shows that although the incarceration camps were “a mistake,” as former President Reagan once said, the effects are long-lasting; “even many generations after their [Asian American and Pacific Islander] ancestors first arrived in the U.S., their community ‘continues to be treated as foreign’ by their fellow Americans” (George), and the ongoing racism still permeates American society.