Then World War II reared its ugly head. My mother told me that one of the last Japanese ships to port in San Francisco before the bombing of Pearl Harbor was captained by Grandma’s cousin, Captain Yamashita. He was to bring her home to Japan, but she could only bring one person with her, her youngest child and only son, George. Because she would not leave her daughters nor her husband, she declined the offer.
After Pearl Harbor, many Japanese, fearful of being identified as enemy sympathizers, thought it advisable to get rid of everything Japanese. My grandmother strictly followed that advice and disposed of all kimonos, books in kanji (Japanese characters), and letters from Japan.
Because the family lived on Fillmore Street near Clay, just outside of the Nihonmachi (Japantown) boundaries, they were one of the first to leave San Francisco. Tanforan was not yet ready so they had to go to Santa Anita Race Track in 1942, then to Topaz. My mother told me how difficult it was for everyone, but especially how demeaning for Grandma and other Issei ladies. The toilets were open with no privacy and showering was a humiliating experience.
“…my grandmother was ostracized from the mess hall by others in the camp who resented the government’s treatment and felt those who volunteered to serve were ‘traitors’…”
At the beginning of the War, George was desperate to join the Army with his Caucasian pals. Of course, the Army would not take him, and George landed in Topaz. However, I was told he volunteered immediately once the Army began recruiting Japanese Americans from the camps in 1943, and he joined the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, the all-Nisei (second generation) unit. Because of this, my grandmother was ostracized from the mess hall by others in the camp who resented the government’s treatment and felt those who volunteered to serve were “traitors”; and her daughters had to bring her meals to their room. I don’t know how long this lasted, but my mother was very bitter on relating this experience.
Thank you, Gail, for sharing your family story. It is bittersweet and filled with love.
Satsuki
Thank you, Satsuki, for your kind words. Gail
Gail,
You have a wonderful history. I had no idea. Your grandmother had such strength and integrity. So Japanese, so noble, and yet able to endure and accept the hardship of life with her husband and children. To me, she is the epitome of a person with immense Japanese pride and strong sense of moral principles. Wow! You were very fortunate to know her so intimately.
Gail ,
Thank you for sharing your Grandmother Yaki’s story . Her being “ostracized from the mess hall because her son volunteered “ hit me like a ton of bricks . My father wrote that Grandma “had been given a hard time by the hardheads”. I hadn’t really considered what that might have meant until I read your story.
Joe Yoshino