A POW of America

When people think of World War II, they think about events like Pearl Harbor, D-Day, and Hiroshima. Whenever the war is brought up, I have to walk away. The war was not only present over seas, but it was fought on American soil. On February 26th, just one week after president Roosevelt approved executive order 9066, three men in black suits arrived at my father's store. I was stocking the shelves when they came in. They told my father to sell the store or else the government would take it from him. When he refused, they hit him. I screamed in terror as they dragged my father and I from the store. Everywhere, the people who were once our neighbors and friends yelled at us to burn in hell along with all other Japanese. My father shielded my head from the garbage they threw at us. Business was slow at the store and though my father did not tell me why, I knew then. We were the enemy. Once home, I asked my father why don't we fight back? We knew other Japanese families in the area. Why couldn't we band together to show our town that we weren't a part of the army? All he said to me was we had already lost. Once we were compared to the Japanese army, we were as guilty as they are. I became furious. I screamed "Why are you letting all of this happen and not do anything?" He responded "Anything we do, will only hurt us. We must be patient." Though at the time I did not understand, it would soon prove to be my greatest life lesson. The next morning, three more men wearing suits arrived at the door and told us we had to leave our house. My mother told me and my brothers to pack up and go with the men. One of them dragged my father into the living room and started asking him questions. I was pulled away by my mother before I had the chance to hear a question. We were put on a government caravan and driven to the train station. I realized then that we were not alone in this quest. There were so many Japanese there. Many of them we had spent time together with. They too had a look of desperation as I did. The severity of the situation was forever changed. The train ride to the camp was long, hot, and crowded. Over 100 people filled the train car that we were put in. As I looked around, I saw people collaborating to plan an escape. I nudged my father and informed him of the plans. He said that if we were to organize, only bad could come of it. I became furious once again and demanded that he plan with the other men. From his expression, it seemed like this was all normal to him. Three hours later, we arrived at our new residence. It looked like an army barracks from the few movies I had been to. The lot was vacant with the exception of our home. The place looked like a bomb had hit it. I mentioned my thought to my father and a guard heard me. He screamed "I bet you know how bombs work you damn dirty Jap!" and he struck me. My father immediately got in between the guard and me. "He is just a boy" said my father. "He didn't know any better." The guard responded "Your boy is the reason we have to lock all of you up." I didn't talk until we were escorted off of the train. Once we were situated, my brothers wandered off to make trouble and chase girls. I was only 8 years old. I was scared, nervous, and trembling. I had to share a bed with my mother and father while the twins shared their own. At 7 o'clock, the loudspeaker screeched that dinner was in 15 minutes. There were no directions to the mess hall or mention of what was for dinner. They expected us to cooperate, without understanding. It was 7:20 by the time we had washed up
did not sleep that night. And everyday afterwards, he would never look up when dinner. We almost missed the meal because of the enormous line outside the mess hall. We were not seated, or given a place to seat ourselves. Instead, we were given a dirty aluminum tray with what appeared to be beans and rice. My brother Hiro asked if he had any pepperoni pizza. The guard laughed and pushed him away. Outraged, he threw his tray to the ground. The guard signaled two others and they hit him. From that point forwards, Hiro looked down when receiving his meals. The next morning, we were woken up by the PA system Breakfast was at 7:30. We were late to breakfast again because my mother wanted us to wash up before meals. We didn't have running water in the barracks, so we had to walk a fair distance to the well to wash up. After breakfast, we as a camp were to say the Pledge of Allegiance. I was angered by it because it is the government who put us here, and now they want our allegiance. Nobody in the crowd wanted to be there, but the guards said we had to. Afterwards, it was announced that school would begin for all children. I was put in 3rd grade. We did not have textbooks, so we were told to listen to our teacher with diligence. I asked the teacher why we were put here. The guard in the room told her that she may not answer the question. Once again my hopes of understanding were shot down my a Military Police officer. I also asked the officer why he was here and not fighting the Japanese. He said that he was fighting the Japanese. He said that by keeping us here, he was doing his duty as a member of the U.S Army.
School was hard. I was in the top ten of my old school but this was very different. Our teacher was teaching us addition. I told her that I had already done that at my old school. She said that I talk to much and I should just do the lesson plan. I introduced myself to the boy next to me. His name was Loshi. He moved from Sante Fe, New Mexico. We would talk whenever we could during the school day. Looking back, I would have gone crazy if I didn't meet Loshi. He became my best friend. I never called him my best friend because I felt a loyalty to my white friends back home. I was confused. The last time I saw my white friends, they were cursing at me and my father as we were taken away from his store. But in the camp, Loshi was my best friend.
July came, and life at the detention center became routine. The first few months were hard on me. I would always question my father why we don't rise up against the guards. I finally realized why. If we decided to revolt against the guards, we
would only be proving a point. Then baseball season began in the camp. There were many teams. My father was the first basemen for his team. His team had made it into the championship game. There were two outs, men on first and third, and his team was down by two. He swung and missed the first two pitches thrown to him. He called time. When he stepped out of the batters box, I called him over. I said to him something he had said to be during my period of struggle. "Have patience Chichi. Do not let your emotions block you from the truth." He smiled at me and stepped up one last time. He cracked one deep left center, it was sure to be a home run, but their center fielder had a cannon for an arm. My father was safe with a triple to tie the game. His team lost that day, but he had won something more. He won the right to say that his boy had become a man.


On January 2nd, 1945, almost three years after being detained, executive order 9066 was dismissed. We were free once again. At first I was overwhelmed with joy. I was finally going home. At the same time, I was scared. I didn't know how to live at home. I was 12 years old. I had lived a quarter of my life as a detainee. I wasn't sure if I would be able to go home. I was not only worried about me, but my new baby sister Shomi had lived her entire life inside the barbed wire fences of the camp. What was she to think? She knew no life other then as a prisoner. I started feeling angry towards the U.S government for taking away the first few precious years of Shomi's life. None the less, I was given a train ticket and $25 to return home. My focus then turned to my best friend. I was upset that I would never see Loshi again. I was upset that I would never see any of my friends from class ever again. I pushed away these feelings and packed my things for the train. Many families said that they would move back to Japan. Now that the evil was gone, they wanted to return to the home country. I considered if we should move back. My father looked at me once more and said " We were patient because we wanted to show the government we were American. Now that we have proven it, we must live as Americans. We fought hard for this title, and we are not about to give it up now." I wasn't sure of what would become of me, but I hoped that one day, I could forgive the great country that enslaved me.