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Foreign
Cassie (0:04)
the height of World War II in 1942, thousands of families were abruptly notified by authorities that they would need to pack their belongings and evacuate their homes. This order came after months of strict curfews that prohibited certain residents from leaving their houses between the hours of 8pm and 6am now they were being told that for the safety of their country, they had to leave. There were very few answers. Families were not told where they were going, how long they would be gone for, or what their lives would look like when they arrived. Their futures were completely uncertain. But there was no choice but to comply. Following those orders, families began packing what they could. Suitcases were filled with treasured possessions, family heirlooms, photographs, and the clothing they believed they might need. Homes were left behind, neat and orderly, many personal belongings still sitting where they had always been. Doors were shut with the hope that someday they might be able to return and pick up the lives they had been forced to abandon. Soon after, they were directed to local train stations. Soldiers stood nearby with rifles in their hands, fingers resting on the triggers, watching as thousands of people gathered on loading platforms. Men, women and children stood waiting, many carrying a suitcase in each hand, unsure of what was about to happen next. When the trains arrived, families were packed into the cars together. The space was cramped and airless. People pressed tightly against one another with little room to move. A heavy stillness settled over the crowded cars. Even the children seemed unusually quiet, sensing the gravity of the moment and the uncertainty the surrounding them. The journey dragged on. Some sat inside those train cars for days as the heat inside grew almost unbearable. Occasionally, the train would stop and soldiers would step inside to distribute small portions of food before the doors shut again and the train continued on. And when the train finally stopped for the last time, the doors opened. Instead of a new town or temporary housing, they stepped out into a place surrounded by fences and guards. They had been relocated to a prison. Hearing a description like this, it's easy to think you recognize this story. Many minds immediately go to the roundups of Jewish families across Europe forced into trains and sent to concentration camps during the Holocaust. But that is not the story we are telling today. Because what we're talking about happened on US Soil. After the Japanese Navy bombed Pearl harbor, killing more than 2,400 people and pushing the United States into World War II, President Franklin Roosevelt issued an executive order that triggered the forced removal of Japanese Americans from their homes. Citizenship did not matter. Even American born citizens of Japanese descent were included. Anyone of Japanese ancestry living in the United States was ordered to leave and relocate to internment camps scattered across the country. There was no evidence required, no charges filed, and no other criteria needed to be detained. Many families complied willingly at first, believing they were cooperating with the war effort and doing what their country asked of them. Few realized that what awaited them was incarceration. The mass imprisonment of Japanese Americans remains one of the lesser known chapters of American history. So, too, are the acts of resistance that grew inside those camps, including one uprising that left two people dead and ultimately changed the course of history. Welcome to National Park After Dark.