I asked for directions to the administration building. I walked about a half mile, passing barracks lined up in groups or “blocks” like anchovies in a tin. Topaz was so big that there were street names and addresses, but there wasn’t a plant in sight. The desert had been scraped clean to create the camp. In ten minutes, I saw more Japanese than I’d probably seen in my entire life. I wanted to shout at them, “How could you let them do this to you?” Suddenly before me was a barbed-wire fence. Clearly I’d missed the turn to the administration building. I saw a guard tower to my left and one to my right. Armed guards patrolled with trained German shepherds. Outside-flat, flat, flat, to a distant mountain range with one especially high peak. Dust devils swirled in the distance and not a sign of civilization in sight.
“How ya doin’ up there, soldier?” I called to the young man in the guard tower.
He lifted his rifle to his shoulder, aimed, and shouted, “Step away from the fence!”
All right, then. I walked back the way I’d come. I found my correct turn and in minutes arrived at the administration building, which in the light of day I could see was just another hastily built structure with plywood walls and a tar paper roof. I was given a khaki shirt, some green trousers, and an old Army coat-like the ones I’d seen the grandmothers wearing-and mine, too, came down to my ankles. When I asked for my brother, a woman flipped through some files, found Yori’s folder, and told me he was the coach for the Rams baseball team. She gave me directions to the “high school.” For the first time in days, my smile was sincere. Yori was truly here!
I found the baseball field and spotted my brother huddling with a group of kids. The last time I’d seen him was on the wharf when I left Honolulu for San Francisco. He’d had an island-boy quality back then-with a loose gait that carried him from the beach where he surfed with guys from his school to my dad’s sampan to the temple where we worshiped. In the last four years, Yori had grown up. He had broad shoulders, high cheekbones, and the authoritative but friendly manner that seemed just right for a coach. When the boys took their spots on the field and started playing, I approached. Yori’s eyes lit up in stunned surprise when he saw me.
“Sis!”
None of that bowing stuff for us. He put his arms around me, and we held each other tight.
“You look like shit,” he said when he released me, and we laughed.
“Mom and Pop?” I asked.
He nodded toward the boys. “Let me finish up here. I’ll tell you what I know later.”
I sat on a bench and watched him coach the team. A bell rang. Yori dismissed the boys.
“I haven’t seen Mom and Pop since that terrible day,” he said as he sat down. He stared out across the field with a faraway look, telling me how he’d been detained and questioned for hours. His interrogators had wanted to know if Pop had been signaling to Japanese planes.
I shook my head. “I know the drill.”
“I told those bastards I’m a Nisei, born in Los Angeles,” he went on. “I said they were talking out of their asses. I let them in on the fact that someone in an American plane shot and killed Hideo-also an American citizen.” He fought his emotions. “Kimiko, I’ve never seen anything so horrible in my life. What they did to him… And Pop and I still had to go back to shore…”
I burned for Yori and my father, helpless at sea with someone whom they’d loved, dead-in pieces-on the deck. There were no words.
“Mom and Pop have been sent to a special camp-”
“In Arizona,” I finished for him. “I know. Have you heard from them?”
“No, and I haven’t written to them either. I don’t want guilt by association. You?”
“I haven’t written to them either. I only just found out where they are.”
“Well, don’t start now,” he ordered, but the regret in his voice felt heavy. “Shikata ga nai. It cannot be helped,” he added, and I could practically hear my mother reciting those same words.
We sat in silence for a few minutes. This place was so desolate, our family had been so broken, and my life was so destroyed that I wondered not only what hideous thing could happen next but how-if ever-we could recover what we’d lost individually and as a family.
Yori sighed, then asked, “Lunch?” I was starved, and dwelling in self-pity wasn’t my way. He took me to the mess hall in his block. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said. We grabbed metal trays, waited in line, and food was dropped on our plates, whether we wanted it or not. Plop, plop, plop. Then we walked through the long rows of tables, with Yori scanning the room until he saw what-or whom-he was searching for. He set his tray down on a table already occupied by a husband, wife, and a bunch of squalling, brawling, shoving brats. Yori beamed, but I didn’t ken to why until the two adults stood and bowed. Aunt Haru, Uncle Junji, and their kids! They had all changed so much I hadn’t recognized them at first. My aunt and uncle both seemed careworn-thinner and shorter than I remembered. The kids had all grown, though, and they certainly hadn’t lost any of their spunk. Overall, the family looked healthy despite what they’d been through. We had only a few minutes to catch up, because my aunt and uncle had to get back to work. Before they left, they asked if I’d like to move to their barracks and live with the rest of the family. Everything was happening so fast that I was shaken down to my toes. A few days ago I was in a movie studio; today I was in a hellhole. Being united with other Fukutomis offered some comfort at least.
After lunch, Yori guided me to his block and introduced me to the other residents in the barracks. A couple of people gave me things they could spare-an extra toothbrush, a small men’s T-shirt, a pair of socks, a sweater. Once my new belongings were piled up next to me, Yori said, “We were taught never to ask anything directly, but…” He motioned around the claustrophobic space. “Life is different now, and Mom and Pop’s rules don’t make sense here.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Where were you, and why did it take so long for you to join us?”
He knew me, so it didn’t surprise him all that much that I’d tried to pass as an authentic Chinese princess, dancing in a San Francisco nightclub. “I thought I could get away with it for the duration.” I shrugged. “I was wrong.”
“Things might have been different for me too. Most Japanese were allowed to stay in Hawaii and continue to live their regular lives.” He gave a short but bitter laugh. “The haoles need us to keep the island economy going, and there’s a lot of new work there with the war and all. But I had our family problem. The authorities shipped me to Angel Island, where I was photographed, fingerprinted, and examined for infectious diseases like I was a goddamn coolie laborer.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothing for you to be sorry about. It’s not your fault. And listen, I’m lucky. Topaz isn’t great, but it could be worse.”
I gave him a questioning look.
“This place was originally called the Central Utah Relocation Center,” he continued. “CURC sounds like curse, so they decided to name it for the nearby town, but the Mormons got all up in arms about it. So now this is called Topaz for the big mountain that-”
“I saw it.”
“But we call it Whirlpool Valley, because of the dust storms. Anyway, this is now the fifth largest city in the state. How do you like that? About nine thousand people live here between the internees and the staff.”
“So where’s the lucky part?” I asked.
“Last month the government decided to let people like me fight,” he answered, “but first everyone was required to take the loyalty oath. We had to answer certain questions. Would we swear allegiance to the U.S. of A. and faithfully defend it from any and all attacks by foreign or domestic forces, and forswear any form of allegiance or obedience to the Japanese emperor, and so on? The answer was easy for me-yes-but it was terrible for the old-timers. Issei don’t have the right to become American citizens, they can’t vote, they’ve spent years being picked on, and now they were asked to forsake the emperor? They would be without a country! Stateless! Then we were asked if we were willing to serve in the armed forces of the U.S. on combat duty. I answered yes to that too.”