Orders in Council
The government unexpectedly announced, at least to the inhabitants of Mount Sheer and Britannia Beach, something called an “Order-in-Council”. It proclaimed a 100-mile protected area along the coast. Both Chisato and Sachiko did not know what to make of the order, and if it had any implications for them.
At the beginning of February, they were awakened by the noise of men marching into camp. The cabin was solidly dark, but the noise was as plain as day. Chisato looked outside and saw numerous soldiers (army she guessed since they bore rifles) with two grey plain-clothes men leading the way against the backdrop of moonlight and glistening snow; they rousted out the men, no matter how they were dressed, of each cabin ordering them to the middle of the road.
Two came to their place with portable lights and searched the inside to find nothing they wanted. The grim look on their faces frightened Chisato as Sachiko ran to sit beside the two sleeping babies. It was a wonder that they were not disturbed. The soldiers left, the door gaping open. The wind streamed in carried by the darkness.
Once the detachment was satisfied that they had what they wanted in camp, one of the grey leaders left a piece of paper with a woman, one of the wives, Sachiko identified. The man, an RCMP officer as it turned out, then signalled the “prisoners” to be taken away. And just like that, the procession of shivering Japanese men (some only in muddied stocking feet) departed in single file with soldiers pointing their rifles menacingly around them.
“What’s going on?” Chisato asked.
The remaining gathered in the shining moonlight around one of the wives who had the piece of paper. Sadayo Takehara, an older and bilingual Nisei, translated as she read the paper. Holding it with both of her thin and shaking hands, she strained her eyes holding the document in front of her.
BY ORDER OF THE GOVERNMENT OF CANADA IN ACCORDANCE WITH ORDER-IN-COUNCIL 365, ALL MALE JAPANESE BETWEEN THE AGES OF 18 AND 45 AND LIVING WITHIN THE 100-MILE PROTECTED ZONE OF BRITISH COLUMBIA ARE ORDERED TO BE REMOVED.
“But why?” screamed another wife within the darkness.
“I don’t know,” said Sadayo as she waved the paper. “That’s all that’s written here.”
“He’s done nothing. None of them have. Nothing illegal…”
A wave of worry rippled through the crowd. “What do we do now?”
“Canada is at war with Japan,” Chisato whispered to Sachiko. But what she thought to herself was I am not at war with Canada.
***
Last December, Chisato had read in a stray copy of the Tariku Nippo, brought by Michiko, that Canada quickly and perhaps rashly declared war on Japan. Japan had bombed someplace called Pearl Harbor. She thought it silly. Why should Canada care? Was the country going to fight Japan on her own? Of course, the United States soon declared. But the question remained: What did this have to do with the Japanese in Canada? She had not heard that German and Italian citizens were imprisoned. She soon learned that these Enemy Aliens or Fascists were in camps in Alberta, New Brunswick, Ontario, and Quebec. The Nippo emphasized that less than a 1,000. No way to tell the accuracy of the number.
The first Order-in-Council announced that all Japanese nationals must register with the Registrar of Enemy Aliens. Another required all persons of Japanese origin, regardless of citizenship, to register.
Chisato didn’t know what to make of all this. She and her husband had already registered with the RCMP and not that long ago. Was this different? She was already declared an Alien. Now she was an Enemy Alien? She wasn’t a naturalized citizen and had no plans to be, but she wanted to live in Canada. Was she suspected of planning to commit violent acts against the country? Ridiculous.
Then came the next Order-in-Council: P.C. 365.
At first, Chisato didn’t believe any of it. She had been fooled too many times—Sachiko’s husband and Kiyoshi’s identity as a “man of God”. Both she and Sachiko had to run away. Whom was she to believe? Yes, her brother was in China fighting a war, but that was China. How could Japan go to war with the world? She was never sure of the truth.
She longed to write her sister, but Canada cut off all mail to her home country. She wrote anyway.
Chiemi Oneesan,
Tell me it isn’t true. Japan is not at war with Canada. I have no idea what will happen to me and all the other Japanese here. Many say they are Canadian, especially the Nisei, but I have no confidence the government will recognize the citizenship even if some of us were born here.
Have you heard from Hideki? Perhaps he knows something. How is Mother taking all this? I wish Otousan was still with us so he could bring reason and wisdom into our lives. How has the war in China affected you and Japan? I can’t imagine how conflict in such a faraway land can mean anything to the Japanese people. Such a stupid war brought to our country by anonymous military leaders. What does the Emperor say?
I know you won’t get this letter, but I feel better just having written. I hope I am in your thoughts. You are in mine.
Chisato
Her chief source of information was The New Canadian, the only community newspaper allowed to keep publishing. The women gathered in the Saturday Cookhouse to listen to a translation of the paper by Sadayo-san. The gathered rustled and grumbled after each meeting.
By February 1942, Order-in-Council P.C. 365 saw to it that all Japanese males, except the aged or in infirm health, were removed. No one knew to where. Some women broke down holding themselves to stop shaking. Chisato wondered about Kiyoshi. Was he even found?
Within that month, all women, children, and older males were ordered into the city of Vancouver to a place called Hastings Park or The Pool. At the beginning of March, a contingent of white men in heavy overcoats and with fedoras pulled down to hide their faces came to Sheer Mountain. Chisato and Sachiko observed two of them heading towards their cabin.
They stepped back from the doorway when the men came to stand in the opening. One said something that Chisato didn’t understand, but he handed the two a sheet of paper. They then turned on their heels and walked away.
“What does it say?” Chisato asked.
Sachiko shook her head and said, “Let’s find Takehara-san.”
By the time they searched for their interpreter, many if not all the townsfolk had gathered once again in the Saturday night hall. A constant murmur rippled through the crowd. Many concerned faces greeted the two.
Eventually, Sadayo stood at the head of the gathering to address everyone. She cleared her throat before speaking.
“I’m sorry I took awhile to come here. It took some time to translate the difficult English.” She cleared her throat again nervously. “We with our children have been ordered to report to Hastings Park in Vancouver with as much of our possessions as possible. 150 pounds, maximum.”
She said lowering the page, “Hastings Park is in the Pacific National Exhibition Grounds.”
A chorus of complaints reverberated. The fairgrounds? There’s no place there for us to stay! Are we staying with the horses?
Ignoring the questions she couldn’t answer, she continued, “We have forty-eight hours to appear at the docks of Britannia Beach where the BC Security Commission men will give further instructions.”
“Commands, you mean!” a voice called out, greeted by other voices, loud and hostile.
“150 pounds is how much?” another yelled,
“If any of you have any property, like land or fishing boats, you are ordered to surrender it to Custodian of Enemy Alien Property. This is a ‘protective measure’ only.”
The murmur turned into a loud grumble.
“According to Order-in-Council 1665,” she finished.
“That’s a laugh!” someone shouted. “Who has a fishing boat here? Or even land?”
Sachiko must’ve thought of her neighbours and friends in Steveston, Chisato guessed.
“If we owned land, wouldn’t we be on it?” The grumble turned into a bitter laugh mixed with groans and complaints.
About forty-eight hours later, Chisato with Hideko in her arms, Sachiko and Mary stood on the Britannia Beach dock. Mary in a heavy green coat with a small crucifix around her neck stood among their boxes, suitcases, and trunk, brought along by volunteer white men from town. She had no idea how much her possessions weighed. They sat on the wooden planks of the dock waiting to be loaded onto the Marigold, the same steamer that had brought them so many months before.
Volunteer gaijin men from Britannia Beach and Mount Sheer had helped them haul the belongings down to the dock. Once women had deposited the luggage on the pier, they too retraced their steps to lend a hand.
Other men, Sachiko pointed out, had appeared and started ransacking the empty cabins, taking whatever they found that was useful. They heard shouting and crying at one point and saw Takehara-san wrestling with someone over an axe.
“It’s my husband’s,” she screamed in Japanese. “He’ll need it when he comes back!”
She lost of course. The man slapped her face in the end, and she let go. She stood shaking and crying. Other women moved to comfort her.
Sachiko and Chisato walked away. Nothing could be done.
“Such a pig. He should be in the abattoir,” Sachiko growled. “Bokenasu.” Ass.
It was a cold day, though it wasn’t raining, which was a blessing. The sun however was well-hidden behind a press of clouds. The two women pulled their winter coats tighter. They looked odd in their Japanese farm garments, boots, and overcoats. They didn’t care; the cold and mud weren’t going to chill and soil them.
An officious gaijin approached them and inspected their belongings. He bent his long body over the luggage.
“No radios, record players, cameras, or other restricted items?” he growled.
They had no idea what he was saying.
The gaijin did a cursory inspection and grunted. He then spied Mary and the crucifix. “What do we have here?” he said and ripped the metal cross away.
Mary screamed and Sachiko confronted the man. “Give that back!”
“Can’t be no Christian! She probably stole it,” he accused and walked away.
“Stinking lousy Japs. Take a bath once in a while,” he said as a parting shot.
Sachiko bent to her knees and hugged her daughter to console her. She rubbed the red mark around the neck away.
A familiar voice said, “Pay him no mind. He knows not what he does.”
“Michiko-san!” Chisato squealed in surprise.
“Chai-sato!” called out Rev. James. “So good to see you again.”
He rushed forward and jerked and shook Chisato’s hand, something she would never get used to. She growled under her breath.
The two had made the trip to greet the church’s charges. Both women were glad to see them. Rev. James’ wide smile gave them a measure of comfort. Michiko nodded in sympathy as she translated.
“Why are they doing this to us?” Sachiko pleaded.
Rev. James took a breath before speaking. “We’re at war,” was all he said as an explanation.
“But we’re not the enemy,” Chisato insisted.
“I know that,” the minister said reassuringly. “But they think you are.”
“Where are they taking us?”
Michiko leaned in and whispered something in the reverend’s ear. He nodded. “To Vancouver.”
That sounded good. They were going back to Powell Street. A warm feeling came over Chisato and she smiled to herself.
“Where’s my husband?” Sachiko asked with trepidation. A cold sweat appeared on her brow.
“Don’t know exactly, but I heard the Mounties did a ‘clean sweep’ of Steveston.”
She looked to Chisato as if to question the term. No answer was to be had. Not even Michiko said anything to clear the mystery.
***
Vancouver was a welcome sight. The majestic mountains, the blue sea, the smells of the logging industry, the brown, anonymous buildings, the varying widths of streets, the lights, and appetizing aromas of Chinatown, and the Buddhist church, Ernie’s, Fuji Chop Suey all meant home to the two women. She hoped Powell Street was intact, but in her heart of hearts, she knew it was no more, even if Michiko and a few others still lived there. It was disintegrating, its component parts breaking off and disappearing.
Chisato settled into the serenity of the voyage back to civility. She loved the smooth sailing of the boat, the tranquil shoreline, and the gentle lapping of the water. Even the cold air felt good on her face and in her lungs.
She had only one concern. Chisato had no idea where she would stay since her house, she assumed, was destroyed beyond repair; she couldn’t live there amongst the rubble. Sachiko too had no desire to go back to Steveston. The haunt of old violence.
“Sensei, are we going to live in the church? In Powell Street?” Sachiko asked through Michiko.
“I’m afraid not,” Rev. James said glumly. “You’re going to Hastings Park.”
They looked at one another. “What is Ha…ing Park?” Sachiko asked as best as she could in English. They had clearly ignored or forgotten that part of the order to leave Britannia Beach. It made no sense to them anyway. Not even the complaints raised by some in the crowd.
“It’s a ‘distribution centre’ set up by the Security Commission. For everyone from out-of-town. You’ll be there until they can send you to a camp outside the ‘protected area’.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
They held their daughters close to their bodies. There was obviously something he wasn’t telling them, and he wasn’t about to.
Another thing Sachiko wondered about was the fate of her husband. She confessed to her friends on the boat that she didn’t know what the Sensei meant by “clean sweep”. Michiko finally explained to her that her husband was probably arrested and taken away to the interior road gangs that were formed earlier in February.
Sachiko hissed, “Good.”
Michiko confessed her own husband, Tamio, suffered that fate. She held faith in the Lord that he would return to her.