by Jack Tasaka
(English translation of original handwritten Japanese text)
DURING THE WAR
Interrogation process
(pages 6-7, from “Crimes” section)
Interrogation by the authorities started with various questions about my personal background, eventuallyending with the question, “Do you think it is better for Japan to win this war?” If I answered it was betterfor Japan to win, I would be sent to the detention center as an enemy alien. If I answered, “I like Americato win,” they would insistently say, “Don’t lie. I know you are really praying for Japan to win.” Therefore, Ihad no choice but to offer a harmless and inoffensive answer, “I do not like war. I really hope Japan andAmerica would make peace as soon as possible.” Then, he asked me, “If your older brother lands inHawaii, can you shoot your brother?” If I answered, “I would not dare to shoot him,” I would, of course, bebranded as an enemy alien. If I answered, “I would shoot him,” they would say, “Don’t lie. He is your bloodbrother. No way would you shoot him.” Furthermore, they asked me, “Are you willing to work togetherwith us?” which meant if I was willing to make myself a cat’s paw for the authority. If I said “No,” I would besent to Honouliuli. If I said “Yes,” I would imagine I would have tentatively been allowed to go home andforced to work as an informer.
At the Honolulu Immigration Station
(pages 8-9, from “Worse Than Prisoners” section)
The most exasperating thing during my detention life was the humiliating treatment at the hands of theImmigration Station. The Honolulu Immigration Station was a type of waiting place for those in an“undetermined or pending” status. The place was fenced by barbed wires and full of narrow, temporarybarracks with 30 to 40 Japanese Americans jam-packed inside.
We were confined all day in a dark room with no light bulb, until we were called one by one to the finaljudgment. We were forced to languish in this room. Confinement ranged from one week to several weeks or those of us involved in a long examination. We were taken to a yard outside of the fence only at mealtimes, morning, noon, and evening, under the watch of military policemen.
Furthermore, our meals were very plain, and we had to use unwashed dishes and utensils used earlier by the prisoners of Oahu Prison. There were more than ten prisoners from Oahu Prison working at the Immigration Station, cleaning offices and sweeping the yard. At mealtime, those prisoners ate first, and the dishes and utensils they used were rinsed in a cursory fashion in a bucket so the plates, cups, and forks were still essentially unwashed. This was just filthy and humiliating and made me lose my appetite; I could hardly eat. This was just mistreatment; we were treated worse than the prisoners….
Furthermore, twenty to thirty of us slept on plain military folding cots in a small, totally dark room. I had
difficulty sleeping and was bothered by the loud snoring, teeth grinding, and those talking in their sleep. I
was totally depressed with anxiety, worrying about the painful life I would be forced to endure in the
coming months….
In many ways, my detention at the Immigration Station was really “the first step into hell”; it was anguish and suffering right from the start. Since I was confident that “I had not/have not done anything shameful,” I really harbored ill will against my unreasonable detention and was indignant about the inhumane treatment. It rubbed my nerves the wrong way, making it too painful to be there.
After suffering hell for about a week at the Immigration Station, I was judged “guilty” and was to be detained during the war. Truthfully, when I was taken to Honouliuli internment camp in a jeep from the Immigration Station, I breathed a sigh of relief and felt like I had made a narrow escape.
Sgt. Loveles - a white friend in the camp
[Note: The actual name is Loveless, but was written as “Loveles” in the original text]
(page 13, from “Jigoku de Hotoke [A Friend in Hell]” section)
Honouliuli internment camp was administered by the Honolulu Military Police, and several MPs were stationed at the office, taking charge of the internees. One of them was Sergeant Loveles.
Those MPs who were newly transferred to Hawaii from the US mainland tended to regard Japanese internees with suspicion as enemy foreigners. However, Sergeant Loveles did not have any racial prejudice, and treated us impartially and in a gentlemanly manner. His openhearted attitude towards us was really appreciated and it was “like meeting Buddha in hell.”…
Our bleak life as detainees was really lightened by Sgt. Loveles’s visible and invisible kindness towards us.
The effects of the war on the camp
(page 36, from “Yusho Reppai [Survival of the Fittest]” section)
Those of us who were detained at Honouliuli could actually sense the defeat of the Japanese military. This was because the number of Japanese prisoners of war, who numbered only a few at the internment camp in the beginning, gradually increased as the war turned in favor of the US military that continued to advance from island to island in the Southwest Pacific Ocean….It was interesting to note that there was discord among Korean prisoners numbering more than 15,000.They were separated into two groups of pro and anti-Japanese. American authorities, in dealing withthose opposing two groups, treated the anti-Japanese group preferentially in terms of providing mealsand entertainment and trying to brainwash the rest to become pro-American. Accordingly, those Koreanswho favored America received special treatment and were kept separate from the pro-Japanese elements.Those who were pro-Japanese, the majority at the beginning, were enticed by the better meals andentertainment, and gradually became pro-American.
Life in detention
(pages 5-6, from “Tokkuri Miso” section)
Tokkuri Miso [bean paste in a sake bottle] - This was a self-mocking term used by so-called hostileJapanese Americans incarcerated in the camp during the war. Its true meaning was that you could stuffmiso all the way into a large Tokkuri, similar to a gallon size bottle of Takara Masamune fine sake, andshake the bottle upside down. Although a trace of miso may drop, most of the miso will stay firmly insidethe bottle. This was the word internees used to describe themselves in a self-pitying fashion about theirsad plight; enclosed by barbed wire [“tetsujomo”], unable to escape from the detention camp to the worldoutside, not even able to take one step out.
Depending on how we viewed it, our internee life would have been a paradise in the physical sense. If wecould ignore our mental anguish, we could eat without working, live sluggishly in idleness. On thecontrary, Japanese people in the outside world were looked coldly upon as “enemy aliens” or “Jap” underthe constant dread of being incarcerated at any moment.
At any rate, we are just Tokkuri Miso,
The tide will eventually turn,
Until that time,
No need to worry,
If we live here for a long time,
This will become our paradise.
(page 19, from “Changing personnel” section)
I remember, when I was a child, my mother used to cut the nails of my hands and feet, saying, “Kugami Rakuzume.” I was told its meaning was, “Our hair grows quick in hard life, while our nails grow quick in easy life.”
In our camp life, everybody experienced mental anguish, worrying about this and that, which caused our hair to grow, it seemed. On the other hand, we did not do much work all day, lived in idleness without experiencing much physical hardship, and it seemed our nails grew quickly.
(pages 21-22, from “Naked Friendship” section)
Honouliuli internment camp was a requisitioned sugar plantation, located at the bottom of a valley. It did not rain much nor did it get much in the way of breezes. We were afflicted with a scorching, intense heat throughout the year. Under this boiling heat, internees were naked all the time, wearing only short pants. We seldom wore shirts. The army gave us long-legged khaki pants, and we cut them to make short pants.
Our footwear was geta [Japanese wooden clogs], which we made from scrap pieces of 2 x 4 or 2 x 6 board, making a scene by walking with a loud clatter wherever we went.
It is often said that someone had a “naked friendship” with his friend. Well, our internees lived under the same roof, became bosom friends, sharing our feelings, and wearing only short pants all the time. We literally had a naked friendship in our daily life. He might have been a “big shot” (a man of position and means) in the Japanese community or a “small potato” (a man of modest means) in the outside world. Once he became an internee with no privileges, he must submit himself to a collective life, restraining his own ego for the sake of impartiality, irrespective of his age and social rank….
At the camp, our entire movements, from getting up in the morning to going to bed, were dictated by the sound of a bugle in the military fashion: getting up by bugle at six o’clock, going bed by bugle around nine o’clock. What I hated most was roll call in the morning and evening. We assembled at the sound of the bugle, and one hundred and several tens of internees lined up in two rows to attend roll call. When the guard in charge was dumb, the numbers never matched no matter how many times we were counted. Any failure called for another roll, while we were kept standing under the scorching sun.
After a successful roll call, shabby looking not so young internees, dressed in short pants and wearing geta, lined up in two rows in front of the gate like kindergarten children, clattering aluminum cups. As soon as we saw a ready signal for a meal at mess hall, we ran there, crossing over the bridge. If wives and children of the internees saw, they surely would have been bitterly disillusioned.
(pages 25-26, from “Tranquilizers” section)
Our daily life in the camp was monotonous and empty; eat and sleep, eat and sleep…It was rumored that the authority, without telling us, added tranquilizer powder to our coffee, lemon water, and soup, which we consumed daily….
According to the authorities, when hundreds of hot-blooded men were confined in one place, they would eventually become excited and mentally deranged, acting violently, becoming prone to causing unfortunate accidents leading to bloodshed or suicides. It seemed that they wanted to quiet our sexual urges by giving us sedative drugs.
(pages 29-30, from “Ham-can Guitar” section)
There were many music lovers among the internees, and quite a few of them were blessed with superiortalent as singers or players. Music really consoled my fellows and me during those prosaic days. However,it was very difficult to obtain the necessary music instruments.
One day, we heard strange music sounds from the next barrack. They told us it was a handmade guitarconstructed from an empty boiled ham can. An Armour brand boiled ham, which was shaped like a largerice ball, was taken out of the can, and they devised a way to use the empty can, attaching a rod, andstrung wires on it. The resulting instrument was a type of hybrid ukulele, guitar, and Ryukyu [Okinawa]Jabisen [Okinawan 3-stringed guitar], making a strange tone that made the listeners homesick.
Families and visitors
(page 12, from “Family Visiting Day” section)
The internees were divided into two groups, and each was allowed to have one visiting day per month tosee their families or friends. Internees mailed a visitor pass as provided by the office to families or friendsof their choice.
Visitors with the passes waited for a chartered bus going to the camp at a designated time and location.Most of the time, it was Sunday afternoon. Some internees intentionally avoided seeing their families lestincreasing a lingering attachment. Some, even though they missed their families and friends, suppressedtheir desire to see them, for they were afraid visitors might be arrested one after another upon their visits. Some [families] could not come, for they had a hard time in making ends meet while theirbreadwinners were detained in the camp. There were many different cases.
It was especially sad and pitiful to watch newlywed wives leading lonely lives after their husbands weredetained, or young wives holding their child’s hand or carrying a suckling baby. As portrayed in a “KankinKouta” [Detention Song]:
A long awaited visiting day,
A million things to talk about, time flies,
“Father, let’s go home together,” child begging,
Patting child on the head, with tearful eyes.
This was exactly the scene that happened in the camp. Those children who did not understand themeaning of detention, after their joyful meeting, implored their fathers, “Father, let’s go home together.” Itwas a very sad sight that brought tears to our eyes for those of us watching, and we all felt sympathy forthem.
For what reason, those who had committed no crime had to endure such treatment, having fatherseparated from mother. I had deep sympathy and burned with righteous indignation about such unjusttreatment.
“Nasake wa hito no tame narazu” [kindness is never lost, it brings its own reward] - We must reap what wehave sown. There should be retribution to this kind of treatment, and I really harbor resentment against the authority that sanctioned this type of situation.
(pages 21-22, from “Naked Friendship” section)
Quite a few families found it difficult to make a living when breadwinners of the family were incarcerated. Some of the families received aid from the Red Cross. At the same time, those breadwinner internees,upon applying at the office, were given paid jobs. Although the wages were not that much, some of themsent their earnings home. Paid jobs such as carpenter, barber, tailor, medical doctor, and chef earned 10 cents per hour, for a maximum limit of 16 dollars per month. Adding allowances from the military government, ten cents every ten days, three dollars per month, some internees sent that money to theirfamilies in the outside world.
Internees were very kind to those poor families, getting together to lend a helping hand in various ways.
(page 27, from “Loyalty to nation, Filial to Parents” section)
Parent is internee, son is volunteer soldier,
Is America land of the free?
Mr. Bolo Shirakata worried about the health condition of his sick father [who was incarcerated as anenemy alien]. Hoping for the release of his father, he volunteered for the Japanese Volunteer Corps at thetime of its formation. He came to see his father in the camp, bidding him farewell just before he was sent to the US mainland to receive basic training.
It was not certain if they would be able to see each other again. The meeting of father and son moved those of us who were fully aware of the situation to tears of indignation and sympathy….
After receiving hard training on the US mainland for a year, Mr. Bolo Shirakata, as a member of the 442ndJapanese American Combat Team, went to fight in Italy and France. When the war was over, he returned to Hawai‘i in triumph, but his father was gone: the built-up anxiety and illness shortened his life; otherwise, he would have lived longer.
Poems from camp
(pages 30-33, from “Kankin Kouta [Detention Song]” section)
Moon night at Sand Island [written by Kenpu Kawazoe]
Isolated from the world outside, on this Sand Island,
Tonight watching moon over palm trees,
Though our outside world forgotten,
The longer I watch, the more I feel depressed.
I miss my old life,
With my wife and children at our backyard,
Watching moon with our joy,
Now, I am very alone watching.
I am a son of immigrants,
Built our foundation in paradise Hawaii,
It took us two generations,
Why, why am I detained.
Moon at the Camp [written by Hiroshi Honda]
Sun went down, moon is up,
Illuminated by moon light,
Remembering beloved wife and children,
Filled with tears, stars in the sky,
Not enough time to enjoy talking,
A bugle sounding “Lights out,”
Bed of five shaku,* straw mattress,
This is our dreamland.
My thoughts never end as night advances,
Dreaming about beloved wife and children,
When awoken, it is my lonely life,
Shedding a teardrop in spite of myself.
*[Japanese unit of measurement]
Farewell song [written by Toru Nishikawa]*
Gulping down our tears, many months,
We, innocent, at Sand Island,
Detained. But if this is for our country,**
We shall endure our life on the island.
Embracing same thoughts,
Encouraging each other, day and night,
Old and young, being one in spirit,
Who knows our hardship?
Moon is bright, tonight,
Beloved wife and children, here,
Our childhood friends, there,
Where are they watching this blue moon?
Detained on the island of foreign country,
Our grief sustained by our spirits,
Our connected mind, at ragged beach,
Sea breeze at our farewell, pierced with grief.
Plover whispering at beach,
Like it is reluctant to leave tomorrow,
Sobbing on and off,
Telling its farewell to the waves.
* [this poem was written for fellow internees being moved to mainland camps]
**[meaning Japan]
Farewell!!! [written by Yoshio Fujita]
Tomorrow, I sail,
In the morning, I leave,
Don’t cry,
I am a man,
Especially of Yamato [Japan],
I am a man.
Even a migratory bird,
Has its home,
I will leave for the continent tomorrow,
Across the ocean,
Will it be in spring?
Will it be in winter?
Farewell for a while,
To Aloha island,
I just alone, quietly,
Humming,
Whom shall I send to?
Aloha ‘Oe.
Alas! My dear friend is leaving [written by Jack Tasaka]*
You are leaving, not by your choice,
My mind is disturbed and broken,
Looking up an evening sky with tears in my eyes,
Lingering moon on top of a cloudy peak.
Day at Higan** of fragrant cherry blossoms,
My dear friend will become a migratory bird,
Even separated far apart over an ocean and mountains,
Our mind is one as moon is one.
Finding no place for yourself,
Without knowing tomorrow on your journey,
Full of tears in America,
However, do not weep, you are a man.
* [written for a friend being moved to a mainland camp]
* [Japanese Buddhist celebration day]
AFTER THE WAR
Life after internment
(page 37, from the “Parole” section)
September 3, 1944, I was provisionally released on parole from the internment camp. Parole required usto declare no hostility after release and we were freed upon securing a sponsor (bail). At my release, I wasordered to sign an oath, “I will not bring a suit against the government.” Then, I was allowed to go home.However, I was obligated to have a mandatory interview with my sponsor once a week, reporting mycurrent address, my work place, and my working circumstances. As for my job, I was not allowed to workat jobs prohibited by the mobilization office of the military government. I was not allowed to change jobsat my convenience, or move to other islands without approval from the competent authority. Myprovisional discharge under my sponsor’s guarantee continued until the end of the war, August 14, 1945(Hawaii time). I finally became free when Japan surrendered.
All things considered, those four years during the Pacific War were the worst days of my life, having beenoppressed, and suffering distress and humiliation.
Reflecting on the internment
(page 3, from the Introduction)
These days I hear many discussions about forced evacuations and detentions of the Japanese Americansduring the war, apologies by the American government, and issues of reparations. Forced evacuations,relocations, and detentions of the Japanese Americans were against the founding spirit of America thatstands for liberty and equality: This was a setback to the national principle upholding human rights and seeking worldly justice. I feel a strong desire to protest against the American government and demandreconsideration with regard to those compulsory measures. After all, “Issun no mushi nimo, gobu notamashii. [Even an inch-long worm has a soul half-an-inch long]*
*A Japanese proverb meaning, “The most defenseless and weak creature will fight back under duress.”
(page 37, from “Reparation Issues” section)
Our rights to pursue freedom and happiness as guaranteed by the Constitution were snatched awayduring the Pacific War, and 120,000 citizens of Japanese ancestry were isolated and detained ininternment camps or in concentration camps, losing their properties, assets, jobs, and incomes. Recognizing this as a huge mistake that stained American history, well-informed people have supporteddevising remedial measures.
(page 9, from “Remembering Honouliuli” section)
While those who lost their family members in the attack on Pearl Harbor were shouting, “Remember PearlHarbor!”, I wanted to shout, “Remember Honouliuli!” Honouliuli camp has been a monument in my mind, filled with memories of joy and sorrow, pain and comfort, which I wanted to forget but was unable to forget. Only very few people know about the existence of the camp in Honolulu.
Source: Confidential stories at Honouliuli internment camp, by Jack Y. Tasaka
Publication: Unpublished manuscript, 1980
Note: Page number references refer to the page number in the spiral-bound manuscript with the Englishtranslation of the original Japanese text.
English translation by: Ari Uchida, JCCH translator
Call No. in JCCH Resource Center: SP H 940.5317 TAS
MLA citation: Tasaka, Jack Y. Confidential Stories at Honouliuli Internment Camp. Trans. Ari Uchida.[Honolulu], 1980. MS. Japanese Cultural Center of Hawai‘i. The Untold Story: The Internment of JapaneseAmericans in Hawai‘i. Web. [date of access]