Tuesday 21 April 1942 arrived. Fifty Japanese-Canadian men, women and children were to make their way to the dock at Miner’s Bay and wait for the Princess Mary to take them away from Mayne Island – the only home most of them had ever known.
Early in the morning, I had slipped out of Chidori’s bedroom window and was standing on their porch when she and her family stepped out their front door with the 150 pounds of belongings they were permitted to take. I leaned against the post nonchalantly, as if I had just strolled up and was waiting on them. When our eyes met, Chidori blushed from our secret. Before anyone else could notice she reached over and fixed my hair, which was mussed from sleeping in her bed all night.
While everyone was busy with the luggage, she kissed me and whispered, ‘Please don’t kiss me at the dock. I don’t want to cry in front of everyone.’
I nodded to promise and lifted her bags to carry them to her father’s truck for her. Chidori’s grandmother and mother sat in the cab with her father. She, her brothers and I climbed onto the flatbed with the luggage. Tosh and Kenji both sat on trunks and rested their elbows on their knees, staring down at their shoes. Chidori and I sat next to each other on the floor of the flatbed with our backs rested against the cab of the truck. Her expression became layered with sorrow as we pulled away from the house and left it behind.
Once we were at the dock, Mr Setoguchi handed me the keys to the truck. ‘Would you please drive it back to the house for us?’ His voice didn’t reveal any emotion, but his sadness was evident in his demeanour as he passed the responsibility over to me. ‘Park it in the barn.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Chidori heaved her own luggage off the truck without waiting for my help and avoided looking at me as she dutifully fell into place in line. Torn between wanting to stay by her side and respecting her wishes to let her go without making a scene, I wandered over to stand next to Joey, Donna Mae and my father. They had arrived with nearly every other resident of Mayne Island to say goodbye to their friends, classmates, employers and neighbours.
The Setoguchis reached the front of the line, faster than I’m sure any of them wanted to. When Chidori’s grandmother tried to board the ship ramp, she stumbled slightly. Kenji stepped out of line to steady her arm. The naval officer who had checked their names off on his list shouted at Kenji to step back in line. He didn’t because their grandmother was very unstable. He assisted her all the way onto the ship, then walked back down the plank to return to his place in line. The officer shoved Kenji’s shoulder, which made him trip over a piece of luggage and fall to the ground. I lunged forward to help, but my father grabbed my arm and held me back.
Kenji stood up with a scowl for the officer, but he didn’t retaliate. Tosh did. Tosh stepped out of line with a defiant stare-down for the officer, and ignored both the command to return to line and the threat of arrest. The crowd released a collective gasp as two other officers pounced on Tosh and handcuffed him. I struggled to free myself from my father’s grip.
Joey jumped in front of me and clamped his hands on my shoulders. ‘No point in all of us getting arrested.’
I squirmed, but neither Joey nor my father was going to let me get involved. Chidori’s frightened gaze met mine. She dropped her satchel and rushed towards me. I broke loose and lunged forward to embrace her. She pressed her lips to mine then whispered, ‘Please don’t lose your temper. There’s no point. Promise?’
After a deep breath to settle myself I said, ‘I promise. I love you.’
‘I love you too, Hayden. So much.’ She burst into tears as they escorted her away and ushered her up the ramp.
I didn’t want to upset her further, so I stuffed down my anger and dismay to keep my vow and maintain my composure.
Once the Princess Mary was completely loaded, it left the dock. All of the passengers stood on the deck to wave goodbye. Chidori blew me a kiss and we maintained eye contact with each other until she was too far away to see. Just like that. It was all over. They were gone.
My father asked, ‘Are you ready to head home, son?’
I wiped the cuff of my sleeve across my cheeks and sat on the edge of the dock. ‘No, sir.’
He nodded, patted my back and then left. I pulled the photo of Chidori out of my front shirt pocket and let my feet dangle over the edge. Before I had left her bedroom in the morning, she had written on the back: Hayden, they will never break us. Love, Chi.
I desperately hoped it was true that they couldn’t break us, but in that moment I felt so beaten. Every muscle in my body ached with grief over the injustice, I couldn’t see straight, and bile rose to my throat. It made me sick that once the crowd dispersed they went about the rest of the daily business in town normally, as if nothing had changed.
I was alone on the dock, except for the company of one haggard-looking seagull. He stared at me and bobbed his beak up and down as if nodding and saying, ‘I know how you feel, pal.’
Footsteps approached up the dock behind me, but I wasn’t in the mood to socialize, so I didn’t turn. ‘A letter came for you.’ It was the postmaster Mr Hogarth. ‘I saw you sitting down here looking glum and thought it might be something to cheer you up a little.’ He held the envelope out.
His footsteps were long faded before I finally worked up the energy to look at the letter. It was from Rosalyn. Since she had promised to notify me of the conditions at the Hastings Park facility, I tore it open.
Dearest Hayden,
Please be seated to read this. I regret that what I have to share with you is not pleasant. I hope you receive this in time to warn Chidori and her family before they leave Mayne Island. If it doesn’t arrive in time, please accept my apology and my condolences.
The Hastings Park facility is very unsuitable. The women and children are being held in a building where the livestock is normally stored, with barbed fencing around the yard. There are no toilets, just a trough of sorts with only recently installed makeshift modesty partitions. The stench is dreadful and illness has been spreading through the facility. There are no bathing facilities and very few showers, which are to be shared amongst thousands of people. The families are issued army blankets, but there are no sheets unless they brought their own from home with them. The families have hung clothes across the openings of the cattle stalls in an attempt to create privacy, but it is crude.
I try not to feel pity for them because I’m sure they already feel such shame to be forced to live in these conditions. Mrs Setoguchi is so dignified and I fear she will be terribly offended to be subjected to living conditions that are so beneath her.
The men are separated from the family and their bunks are simply straw mattresses thrown on frames crammed together in rows. From Hastings Park, the younger men are sent to labour camps while the women and children are interned with the older men in tent cities somewhere in the interior of the province. I don’t know all of the details of how they plan to move twenty-three thousand people. I wish I could be of more assistance, but the guards will not allow me to talk to anyone. I have only been able to ask quick questions here and there, and many of them don’t answer – perhaps because they are afraid of the guards overhearing us, or perhaps they don’t trust me. Either way, I understand their reluctance.
Some families have self-financed their own voluntary evacuation by train east of the Rocky Mountains. Please advise all of our dear friends from Mayne Island that if they can find a town outside the protected coastal zone willing to welcome them in, they might be able to avoid the camps by financing the train tickets themselves and renting property in Alberta or farther east – if it is not too late to make such arrangements.
Unfortunately, I have more ghastly news that I cannot bring myself to tell Mother and Father. I haven’t told anyone yet because if I say it aloud, it will make it true. It makes me cry to even think about it. I received word that Earl was shot down and is now missing. Oh, dear Hayden, I am beside myself with worry. His commanding officer wrote to tell me that his airplane was hit. He was forced to parachute out. The rest of his squadron saw him land safely and watched as he ran through a field towards the protection of a grove of trees. They said he was shot and fell, then got back up and disappeared into the trees. They hope he was taken in and is being hidden by a sympathetic family in the French countryside, but he may have also been captured by the Germans. If he is alive, they will go back in for him, so please hold him in your prayers.
Also, please show this to Father. I cannot bring myself to write it again. All of our greatest fears may be coming true. Please hug Mother for me.
Love,
Rosalyn
I read the letter over again, leaned back flat on the dock, and stared up at the sky. When I was a kid, I wondered why I couldn’t see God up in the clouds. I asked my Sunday school teacher once and she told me, ‘God is actually in each and every one of us at all times. We can’t see Him, but we can feel His presence.’ She placed her palm on my chest over my heart and asked, ‘Do you feel Him, Haydie?’ I thought I did when I was a kid, but as I lay on the dock, I wasn’t so sure.
When it turned to dusk, I drove the Setoguchi truck back to their empty property and then – in complete disillusionment – dragged myself home. My parents were in the family room on the couch, hugging.
‘How are you holding up, Hayden?’ my father asked.
‘Not well.’ I dropped Rosalyn’s letter on the table in front of them and headed up the stairs to my room.