Farewell to Manzanar: Foreword–Part 1

They floated awhile, then they began to grow, tiny gulls becoming boats again, a white armada cruising toward us.

To the FBI every radio owner was a potential saboteur.

But I think he knew it was futile to hide out or resist.

There was a lot of talk about internment, or moving inland, or something like that in store for all Japanese Americans.

These were mainly days of quiet, desperate waiting for what seemed at the time to be inevitable.

Tolerance had turned to distrust and irrational fear.

It was grueling work up there, and wages were pitiful, but when the call came through camp for workers to alleviate the wartime labor shortage, it sounded better than their life at Manzanar.

No one could pacify him.

Mama began to weep, great silent tears, and Papa was now limping back and forth beside the bunk, like a caged animal, brandishing his long, polished North Dakota cane.

Kiyo must have felt something similar, because at the height of Papa’s tirade he threw his covers back, and in his underwear he jumped out of bed yelling, “Stop it, Papa! Stop it!”

He kept pursuing oblivion through drink, he kept abusing Mama, and there seemed to be no way out of it for anyone.

Meanwhile the mob heading for the police station had been met by a detachment of military police carrying submachine guns and M1s.

Will you swear unqualified allegiance to the United States of America and faithfully defend the United States from any or all attack by foreign or domestic forces, and forswear any form of allegiance or obedience to the Japanese emperor, or any other foreign government, power, or organization?
(yes) (no)
—from the War Relocation Authority Application for Leave Clearance, 1943

No self-respecting espionage agent would willingly admit he was disloyal.

If he said NO NO, he could be sent to Tule Lake camp in northern California where all the “disloyal” were to be assembled for what most people believed would be eventual repatriation to Japan.