The Free Press suspended publication for twenty days, and when it returned no mention was made of the revolt of December 6.
On December 21, a Buddhist funeral was held for James Ito and Jim Kanagawa in the woods outside the camp. Only 150 internees were permitted to attend. The rest of the camp’s residents, most wearing black armbands in honor of the fallen, observed a two-minute prayer and moment of silence at one P.M.
As she stood silently among the mourners inside the camp, Ruth grieved not just for the two young men but for everyone in Manzanar. This was insanity, all of it. Valid grievances had turned into senseless brutality, on all sides. In her heart she was deeply afraid—afraid that the violence and death had marked everyone at Manzanar as suspect, as potentially dangerous subversives. She feared that even if the war ended tomorrow, the authorities would never permit the ten thousand souls imprisoned here to leave—and that the mountainous walls surrounding them would be the farthest horizons that they would ever know.
Chapter 11
1943
Taizo liked to sit in the wooden chair outside his apartment, gazing at the Japanese rock garden an ambitious neighbor in Barrack 4 had wrought from the blistering forge of the desert. It was a karesansui, a Zen or meditation garden, at its center a “lake” of white sand—artfully raked to mimic gentle waves combing the surface—with stones of quartz floating on the lake like crystalline islands. A miniature footbridge connected the “shore” to the largest island, a pyramid of granite rocks that represented Mount Horai, the mountain paradise of Shintō legend and symbol of a natural world of perfect harmony. During Taizo’s first months here this garden was a solace to his spirit. He could stare at it, meditating, for hours, and the reality of life at Manzanar did not disappear but lost its power to affect him.
But now he could find no solace in the white waves of sand. The loss of his farm and home was a bitter harvest not of his own sowing; all that was left to him was his dignity. Now he had been shorn of even that, and by his own daughter’s hand. When Dai had feared for her brother’s life and both Frank and Haruo lay abed, had she come to her father? Had she shown him the respect he was due as head of the family and asked for his help in the search? No; she had gone off her own, dismissing her otōsan as a fragile relic too old to be of any assistance. Ever since his collapse in the fields the family treated him as if he were made of porcelain and with one bump might shatter like an old plate. But he was still a man. He was happy Dai and Ryuu were unharmed, but she should have shown the proper respect to him as a man.
Tears were trickling down his face and he wiped them away before anyone could see. He was proud of Dai, her courage and spirit; all he had wanted was one last chance to make her proud of him.
“Hey, Pop!”
Ralph came running up, holding a folded-up newspaper. Taizo concealed his sadness with a smile. “Ryuu, what brings you here so early?”
“Big news!” He rapped on the apartment door. “Hey, Sis! Frank!”
Ruth and Frank came out, equally surprised to see Ralph. “FDR just announced it,” Ralph said, opening the paper. “The Army’s going to form an all-Nisei infantry battalion!”
A few days earlier, the War Department had unexpectedly announced that it was rescinding its ban on Japanese American citizens serving in the armed forces and they were now free to volunteer for military service.
“It’s going to be called the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, and the Army is calling for volunteers from both Hawai'i and the mainland.”
“Looks like the JACL is getting what it wanted,” Frank noted.
“But get this,” Ralph went on. “Now FDR says, quote, ‘Americanism is not, and never was, a matter of race and ancestry. A good American is one who is loyal to this country and to our creed of liberty and democracy. Every loyal American citizen should be given the opportunity to serve this country…’”
Ruth looked incredulous at that. “Americanism isn’t a matter of race and ancestry? Then what the hell are we all doing in this sand trap?”
“It’s a first step,” Ralph said. “At the Free Press we’ve heard rumors that the government’s started to have second thoughts about this whole internment. They’re already speeding up the work furlough program. And now there’s this.”
“I think it is an excellent idea,” came a voice from behind them. They all turned to see their neighbor, Takeyoshi Arikawa, a proud smile on his face as he walked toward them. “Our son Frank is going to be part of this regiment. It will be his chance to show his loyalty. They will represent us all, all of us who love America.”
“Congratulations, Arikawa-san,” Taizo said, knowing what this meant for his friend and neighbor. “I am sure your son will acquit himself nobly.”
Ruth had to admit to herself, she was surprised. After the riot, she never thought the government would trust any Japanese again.
But of course, it would not be as easy as all that.
* * *
A week later an Army team descended on Manzanar, and two separate “registration forms” were distributed to all households. The first, for Nisei men, was a Selective Service form, “Statement of United States Citizen of Japanese Ancestry.” The second, given to Nisei women and all Issei, was a War Relocation Authority form, “Application for Leave Clearance”—“leave” as in relocation via the work furlough program. The questions were mostly innocuous, asking for the registrants’ sex, age, marital status—but two were far from innocuous, requiring unambiguous, unqualified yes/no answers:
Question 27 asked Nisei men:
Are you willing to serve in the armed forces of the United States on combat duty wherever ordered?
The equivalent for Nisei women—and, oddly, Issei of both sexes—was:
If the opportunity presents itself and you are found qualified, would you be willing to volunteer for the Army Nurse Corps or the WAAC?
Question 28 was substantially the same on both forms:
Will you swear unqualified allegiance to the United States of America … and forswear any form of allegiance or obedience to the Japanese emperor, or other foreign government, power, or organization?
Question 28 exploded like a grenade in all ten relocation camps, and the uneasy peace in the wake of the Manzanar riot was shattered in a blast of anger, bewilderment, and indignation. Worse, it broke the bonds of family, and the Watanabes were no exception.
* * *
After Pearl Harbor, many Nisei men wanted to defend their nation, only to be told that their ancestry marked them as potentially suspect. Now the Army, represented by a team holding informational meetings in Manzanar mess halls, told them, “Signing this statement will give you the opportunity to prove your loyalty to the nation on the field of battle.”
“We didn’t prove it when we peacefully agreed to leave our homes and come to this damn place?” a man shouted back. “You didn’t ask Germans or Italians to prove their loyalty—how many times do we have to?”
The Army officers had no ready answer for this.
“Yes,” said another Nisei, “why do you ask for our loyalty after you’ve done all the damage to our lives?”
“If we answer ‘yes’ to these questions, will our privileges and rights as citizens be restored? Can our families go back to our homes?”
The Army team allowed that that was not yet possible.
“Would I be considered disloyal if I answer ‘no’ only to Question 27?”
“Why can’t we serve alongside white soldiers?”
“Will we receive restitution for the loss of our homes and businesses?”
Again, the officers had no ready answers.
In the absence of clarity from the Army, many families had to puzzle out the meaning and consequences of the questions for themselves. The Watanabes gathered for this purpose one morning while all the children were in school, all eight adults squeezing into Taizo and Etsuko’s apartment.
The first comment was Jiro’s, and typical Jiro it was: