That sounded so cruel to Ruth, but she just said, “When you and Papa married, did you know each other well?”
“Not well, but I like to think he found me as pleasing as I found him. He had grown from a sickly child into a strong, kind man. Kindness is scarce in this world, Dai; that is why we were so happy that you found Frank. In Honolulu I knew ‘picture brides’—who had only seen a photograph of their betrothed—who came to the grocer’s with blackened eyes or broken teeth. I shuddered and was grateful I had Taizo, whose only touch was tender.”
Ruth slipped her hand into hers. “You’ll be with him again soon.”
“At the start, we were apart for two years—only men were allowed to emigrate from Japan to America. I had to wait until the law was changed to allow women. At least I know today that I will not have to wait that long.”
* * *
On Monday, November 1, WRA Director Dillon Myer visited Tule Lake on an inspection tour and was greeted by a crowd of at least six thousand internees outside the administration building, peacefully protesting working conditions. The protestors gradually dispersed without incident. But the size of the crowd alarmed the hakujin staff, their fears stoked by another incident occurring at the same time: a group of fifteen internees stormed the camp hospital and assaulted the widely disliked chief medical officer, Dr. Reece Pedicord, blaming him for the recent death of a Japanese baby.
Two evenings later, Taizo was awakened past midnight by a rumbling noise that sounded as if the earth itself were tossing in its sleep. He went to the window, looked out, and was astonished to see Army tanks lumbering through the streets. Soldiers inside announced through bullhorns: “Stay indoors! Do not leave your barracks, stay inside!”
Taizo could not go back to sleep, but those who did woke the next morning to find three hundred military police occupying the camp. There were armed soldiers stationed on every corner as radio patrol cars and tanks prowled the streets. The thunderous roar of jeeps, cars, and tanks was a deafening display of power orchestrated to strike fear into the internees.
Compounding this was a racket of construction as a barbed-wire fence was being erected between the colony and the administrative area: no internees, even ones employed in administration, were permitted inside, and those who tried to report to work were rewarded with tear gas fired by military police. This was a tactic the Army would continue to exploit: tear gas to break up small groups of unarmed internees peacefully waiting in line at latrines, showers, or coal piles—harassing them for the sole purpose of intimidating the populace.
Tule Lake was now under martial law—and ninety-nine percent of the internees, including Taizo, had absolutely no idea why.
* * *
That same morning, as she was grocery shopping at the Manzanar canteen, Ruth was greeted by the front page of the Los Angeles Daily Mirror:
ARMY TAKES OVER TULE LAKE CAMP
Seizure Follows Disclosure of Aliens’ Sabotage at Segregation Center
TULE LAKE, Nov. 4. (U.P.)—The Army tonight took over the Tule Lake Japanese’s segregation center at about 10:30 P.M., according to Lt. Col. Verne Austin …
Accounts of sabotage and openly avowed loyalty to Japan came to light today in further revelations of just what happened Monday … Ernest Rhoades, the resigned fire chief at the camp, asserted that all fire alarm telephones had been destroyed, sand and broken glass were tamped into hydrants, and automobiles were damaged, one having been scratched with the words: “To hell with America.”
Ruth found herself standing at an intersection of horror and disbelief, knowing only one thing for certain: this news had to be kept from her mother.
But the camp was already buzzing with conflicting stories about what was happening at Tule Lake, and when she returned Ruth found a shaken Etsuko standing on her doorstep, a tremor in her voice.
“Dai, have you heard? There were ten thousand rioters at Tule Lake! They threatened to kill Mr. Myer and the Army had to come in to save him!”
“Okāsan, it’s not that bad, I’ve seen the papers.”
“I knew your father should never have gone there!”
Ruth embraced her mother. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s not the sort to be part of any violence. He’s probably having breakfast in the mess hall right now. We’ll write him a letter and he’ll write back saying he’s all right.”
“Good. Yes. Oh, that stubborn old man!”
* * *
The mess hall was thick with rumor, speculation, suspicion, and fear. Why had the Army taken over the camp? Why couldn’t people go to work? What had happened during the night to so drastically alter life at Tule Lake?
Yamasora, glancing nervously around the room as he ate breakfast with Taizo, confided, “From what I heard, last night some hakujin drivers signed out a truck from the motor pool and used it to deliver more stolen food to the strikebreakers. Some Japanese from the motor pool got into a scuffle with white security officers, and when a small crowd gathered around Director Best’s house, wanting him to intervene in the theft, he got the idea they were planning to abduct him and he called in the Army.
“The military police arrested eighteen internees, mostly members of Daihyo Sha Kai. They’re in the stockade and nobody is allowed to see them. This could be the excuse Best needs to get rid of us so-called troublemakers.”
“Are you safe, Yamasora-san?” Taizo asked, concerned.
“Oh, I’m pretty low on the totem pole,” he said hopefully. “I’ll be fine.”
The next day the Army began the first of many barracks searches for contraband, confiscating such legal and illegal items as liquor, paring knives, scissors, carpenters’ and gardeners’ tools, wooden canes, binoculars, cameras, and radios with short-wave capability. They also took away human “contraband,” arresting anyone they suspected of being involved in the events of November 1 or 4, or anyone with a reputation for “agitation”—like members of Daihyo Sha Kai.
Taizo was alone in his apartment when the soldiers came to search; as he stepped out of their way and into the doorway, he overheard sounds of a scuffle outside. He turned to see Yamasora being dragged out of his office by two MPs. One of the soldiers twisted his arm so violently that Yamasora shrieked in pain. Taizo ran toward his friend.
“What are you doing!” Taizo yelled. “There is no cause for that!”
“Go home, Grandpa,” one of the men said with offhanded contempt, turning away. This young, cocky, contemptuous American soldier seemed to embody every indignity Taizo had endured these past eighteen months.
Taizo reached out and took the soldier’s arm in an attempt to get his attention. “What has he done? Are you—”
As casually as he might use a flyswatter, the soldier brought his rifle up and slammed its butt into the side of Taizo’s head, which exploded into fireworks behind his eyes. He fell in a daze to the ground.
He was groggily aware of being pulled to his feet, a gun pressed into the small of his back, as the soldiers marched them toward a waiting jeep.
Taizo’s head began to clear as he and Yamasora were led into an empty office in the administration building, where they were handed over to two big hakujin men in shirtsleeves—not Army, perhaps internal security—who quickly got down to business. They pushed the two prisoners up against a wall, told them to raise their hands above their heads, and “stay that way.”
“Okay, Tojo,” one of the men said to Yamasora, “we know you were part of the dirty business on Sunday night, so you might as well come clean.”
“I wasn’t even there!” Yamasora protested.
The security man coldcocked him, driving his fist into Yamasora’s face. Yamasora’s nose spurted blood as his body began to fall sideways.
“I said stand up, Jap!” the other man snapped, and Taizo now noticed he held something in his hand.
A baseball bat.
“I swear, I wasn’t there!” Yamasora pleaded.