Start WChapter 2

Tulenar Internment Camp

Twenty Miles North of Disjunction Lake

Eastern California

Morning. Waxing Gibbous Moon.

Doris raised the bow, sighted, took a deep breath and held it...then released the arrow. It struck just short of the bull’s eye. The next one struck slightly further from the goal. The third hit the mark true.

Over her shoulder, Doris heard, "Wow."

She turned to Maxwell Pierce, knowing she was hiding her irritation poorly, but apparently, the captain didn’t notice. Without asking permission, he walked toward the target until he was close enough to see her shots, one finger to his glasses as he peered at the arrows.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” he asked as he walked back.

She returned her attention to the bow. “At Sarah Lawrence.”

She sighted, repeated her ritual and fell far short of the mark. Damn, she hated it when strangers watched her shoot. It was what kept her off varsity. She set her bow and quiver on the folding chair she used as a stack table and jacket hanger, then turned to Lakeside’s new commander.

"You’re here early. How’re the first days going? Settled into your new office?"  She removed her arm brace and protective half-vest.

"All settled."

"I phoned Eshelmann yesterday to say bon-voyage. He never sounded better."

"You two didn’t get along very well, did you?"

"No." Doris tossed the leather garb onto the chair, then grabbed her suit jacket. Tugging it on, she asked, "Did Harriet tell you I was out back?"

"I saw you as I left my car."

"How was your drive from Lakeside?"

"It seems longer than half an hour."

"Sometimes it does.” As she escorted the captain to the administration building, she said, “Well, come in, Captain, and we’ll start the tour."

The C.O.’s driver was lighting a Chesterfield as he sat on the back steps, but he stood quickly and held the door open for them. Doris escorted Pierc through the broad rectangle of building, walking as diagonally as possible through the sprawl of desks and folding tables. The supervisors, the social workers, the secretaries -all civilian, mostly internees- were even more exposed than Lakeside’s personnel. Here at Tulenar, the only true office belonged to the Center Administrator.

They were near the main entrance now and Harriet Haku looked up briefly from her typing as they came up behind her, then set back to it. Doris tapped the secretary’s desk and said, "Get us a couple of coffees, okay?"

Doris and the captain walked into her barren, wooden office, its walls jutting outside the building’s main frame like an afterthought. She was determined to resist the comforts she had in storage until the evacuees had a few comforts of their own. She knew other Center Administrators were not of the same mind, and she considered that poor judgment. Only the necessities were here; desk, chairs, a picture of her late husband and a file cabinet filled with information that would be mundane outside the camp confines.

"Sorry we’re so Spartan," she said perfunctorily as she settled behind her desk.

The captain pulled one of the two straight-backed chairs to the side of it. "It’s the same at Lakeside."

"It’s bad for attitudes, this empty space. Still, I’ve never seen the government move so fast. Once the Relocation was decided, the camps almost sprang up overnight. They never went into action like that while I was politicking. If they’ll only be as quick now for the internees’ needs, we might have an element of respect to find from our ’residents’."

She didn’t disguise her contempt for that euphemism.

"You have a political career, Mrs. Tebbe?"

“No, my husband did. He was a senator..."

"Not the late Abel Tebbe?"

She reached to his picture and turned it so the captain could see. "The same. And so you can get your focus back, I’ll get rid of that question bulging behind your brow. Yes, Captain, there was a twenty-five year difference between us.” She turned the picture back to its usual place. “But, even before I married, I was politically active. When I started squeaking my wheel for involvement in the camps, the powers-that-be thought they’d found the perfect spot to keep me happy and out of their hair." She smiled. "’Best laid plans’, as they say.”

"I’m sorry..."

"Excuse me?"

"About your husband’s passing. I’m sorry."

It took a moment for the captain’s words to register. The thought of her widowhood seemed to genuinely affect him.

"Well...thank you, Captain, but... if you’re familiar with my late husband, then you must know he died almost ten years ago."

She thought Pierce was about to say more, but he didn’t. Thankfully, Harriet knocked on the door and entered with the coffee service, setting it on the desk between Doris and the captain.

Doris was already standing, pouring her own cup, as she said, "Grab your poison, Captain, and we’ll get started."

/ / / /

From the hills where the Center Administration Building and WRA officials’living quarters perched, the bulk of Tulenar Internment Camp could be viewed. The ground was raw, flat and brown beneath the tarpaper barracks, divided into blocks of fourteen. There was activity at the camp’s perimeters, where the fence was being erected, and the M.P.’s motored slowly along their posts in hoodless Jeeps, keeping clear of the construction. The buses with the day’s transferees had not arrived yet, so the goings-on in the camp were reasonably languid as people moved about. By eleven o’clock, that would change.

The captain looked amazed as he gazed out at Tulenar’s sprawl. “I knew the numbers. I came here prepared for the size of the camp, but...seeing it...it’s like a small town...”

Doris nodded. "Almost a thousand souls here already, Captain.” She pointed to the closest set of buildings. “Each block has smaller, central buildings that hold the laundry, latrines and lavatories. Most also have at least two buildings that function as churches. Or temples. A lot of the elderly internees are Shintoist, of course, and you might as well know now, Captain. I don’t much like the official policy of prohibiting Shinto worship in the camps."

Pierce’s reply was expected. Standard issue. But the lack of rigidity in his manner was not. "I’m sure you understand, Mrs. Tebbe, there’s a risky aura to Shinto practice, oriented to emperor worship as it is. A religious practice that deifies the leader of an enemy nation, innocent as that practice may be, could be misinterpreted in confines like these. And times like these. I sympathize with your frustration, but I have to officially support that policy. However...suppose a Shintoist family, or a group of friends, have a get-together to discuss… oh, say… comparative religion. Perhaps they study rituals that relate to that topic...on an academic level, of course."

He shrugged, and Doris understood. Given a viable way out, if no trouble came of it, he would look the other way. Okay. A good sign. There might be a difference or two between Pierce and Eshelmann after all. 

She cleared her throat, relaxed a little and brought Pierce’s attention back to the nearest block. "A block houses two-hundred-and-fifty. This one’s mess hall is the structure on the east end. The residents there are some of the ’veterans’ of the camp. They’ve been here since late May, early June, and have their recreation hall pretty well established."

"Where’s the hospital?"

"That’s the double-sized, two story ’tar’ at the far side of the camp. Can you see it?"

"Yes, of course. The schools...?"

"Elementary and high are side-by-side at the southern end of the southern most block. I’m sorry, Captain, about that clumsy question, you being able to see. I didn’t mean --"

"No offense taken, Mrs. Tebbe."

There was a moment of awkwardness, then Doris said, "Well, let’s go for a walk around one of the blocks."

It might have seemed easy to use the standard, black sedan issued to her by the WRA. But it was bad judgment, the way Doris saw it, to drive into camp unless she had to cover a lot of ground in a small amount of time. Only WRA and military personnel were permitted to have motor vehicles. But even if it didn’t make the Center’s reps more conspicuous, driving was simply uncomfortable. The tires spewed suffocating, red clouds that engulfed the car in seconds.

As it was now, dust swirled with every step. She felt the grit in her mouth, all the damn, inescapable dust that was as much a part of her offices and tarpaper house as it was the evacuees’.  She was more aware of it when she came into the camp, though; that, and the early morning quiet. But there was always a sense of quiet in the camp, even when the place bustled.  It’s the undercurrent, Doris thought, the disorientation of displacement mixed with the all-too-clear understanding of what’s happening.

They walked past a few women doing the first sweep of the day, the dust billowing like smoke out their doors; past children dressed in fresh, crisp clothes already powdered with a light, reddish coating. Between two barracks, some men were picking pieces of lumber from one of the scrap piles; leftovers from camp construction. 

"By tomorrow that lumber will be serviceable furniture," Doris explained when the captain asked. "Uncle Sam isn’t providing much more than food and shelter yet. Presently there are four families to each barracks. They don’t have much privacy, but we hope to build solid partitions between each family as soon as more materials come in. Right now, they have to make do by stringing blankets across rope. We’re encouraging tree planting, flowers...but, of course, that’s not uppermost in their minds at this stage. For the time being, they’re just trying to get some sort of organization back into their lives."

"Do you have many professionals in the camp, Mrs. Tebbe?  Doctors, professors...?"

"Some --"

"What are they doing now?"

"What everyone else is doing, Captain. A few have filled out applications to work in their fields, but really everyone is just trying to get settled."

"May I make a suggestion?"

She didn’t want to say, yes, of course, but she did.

"You may consider encouraging the professionals to concentrate on career-related matters," the captain said. "Let the others take up what slack there might be while the professionals focus on the schools, hospital, what-have-you. Your residents are feeling pretty dazed by what’s happened, I assume..."

"While you’re at it, assume they’re worried and bitter."

"Giving the professionals tasks equal to them might help diffuse some of that. They’ll likely emerge as the leaders here. Getting them occupied as soon as you can might expedite organization."

Captain Pierce stopped and looked around. "Sad business. Sad, sad business," he said.

Doris had to admit, the tone of his voice seemed genuine. So did the concern in his face.  And his advice was sound, if obvious. She was already working on that angle, though she hadn’t particularly thought about the professionals as leaders.

But she doubted the captain understood the opposing dynamics of the camp: the Nisei, Japanese-Americans, and the Issei, the Japanese Nationals. Already there was tension growing between the older generations in the camp -Issei, mostly - and their Nisei counterparts, virtually all in their twenties or younger.

 Balancing two traditions was tricky enough in normal times, let alone these. And the tension was only made worse by the lack of middle-aged men, who were taken practically en masse to the nearest federal prisons months before the Relocation. With rare exception, none had yet been transferred.  There were the women of the camp, of course, mostly the wives or relatives of the absent men. But to even consider women as social leaders would be anathema to the Issei, especially the eldest among them. Without the middle generation of men, the very young and the very old had few mediators. 

"Your suggestion is sound to you or me, Captain, but the evacuees see leadership in a different way."

The captain shrugged and Doris cursed herself. Why hadn’t she just said that she appreciated his suggestion and left it at that? She was already forgetting the commitment she had made to herself to get on well with Captain Pierce. Now here she was shooting down a simple suggestion when a plain sure, thanks would do.

"Let’s head back," she said. "I’ve got a file load to clear before the new evacuees come in.  I’m sure you do, too."

They began walking back toward the hill and the captain asked pleasantly enough, "So give me an example of a typical day for the C.A., Mrs. Tebbe."

Thank God, yes, let’s move on to a little trivia.  "Well, the relocation is too new for there to be any typical days, just yet. But, administrative tedium’s already arrived. This morning, I’ll be issuing permission to Block Three to create a small ornamental pond. Decision like that mean the world to them in a wasteland like this. And several blocks want to begin vegetable gardens. You know what some of the evacuees are saying, don’t you?  Especially the Issei population. They’re saying the government is planning to manipulate the food supply of the camps."

"They’ve said that to you?"

"To me?  Don’t be silly."

"Good Lord. Where did they get that idea? Wild rumors don’t make things easier ..."

"They know what’s going on outside these confines, Captain. The Center canteens sell plenty of newspapers. And it’s not as if one ‘rumor’ hasn’t already proven true, is it? Remember that plan to allow resettlement inland, away from the coast?  Instead here they are, American citizen and foreign national alike."

At the door, Doris offered her hand. "Thank you for coming, Captain."  She wanted him out of there. Too much work to do, too much wasted time touring him around.

Captain Pierce took her hand in a firm shake.  "Mrs. Tebbe, I’d like to be frank about something, if I may."

Now what? "Always. Please."

"I know this is a difficult responsibility. I admire you for requesting this duty, particularly because of your gender. By your manner, you’ve made it clear that you disapprove of Relocation. I appreciate how you feel, but we both know it’s necessary. I think we both know, as well, that there will be officers and administrators who’ll abuse their positions during the Relocation. But I feel that you and I are like-minded enough to see that Tulenar and its assembly center will be run without prejudice."

 A stony silence piled up between them. Doris surprised herself by keeping her tone even when she said, "Well, me too, Captain. But I’m not doing much about it by standing here. If you’ll excuse me..."

/ / / /

The half-moon rose in the east, translucent against the sky as it chased the sun, red and raw-looking, into the western mountains. There was a twenty-minute break in the madness of the day, and Doris was flinging arrows at her target. She wasn’t doing a very good job. Harriet Haku cleared her throat as she walked up behind her.

"Thanks for the warning, Harriet."

"I just wanted to let you know I was heading back."

Heading back. Harriet never called the barracks "home." Doris turned to her secretary.

"Anything new I should know?"

"Not really,” Harriet replied. “I put a reminder on your desk about Block Four. They’ve chosen a manager and he wants to see you after Ten’s council meeting tonight."

"I remember."

Doris had a good, professional relationship with Harriet, one of the “older” Nisei, in her late twenties. But the distance was always there between them. Now she looked at Harriet’s features, those of her heritage and those that were uniquely her own. Her face was more triangular than round. Her cheekbones were set unusually high. The faint lines at her eyes would someday be crow’s feet. Her forehead was broad and small. Harriet was looking back just as frankly.

"Something else before I go?"

"No, Harriet, thanks. Sorry.” She rubbed her eyes. “My spark plugs aren’t all firing right now."

"Good night."

What had she tried to see in Harriet’s face, just then? Maybe nothing. Doris felt more tired than usual, and she knew part of it was disappointment. Things were already edgy between her and the new C.O.  She would be lying to herself if she didn’t own up to how badly she’d handled things, but …

Necessary. He’d called the Relocation necessary. Damn. He was just another military man, after all. She had really hoped he might be a different animal.