Treadmill: A Novel

By Hiroshi Nakamura

Treadmill is a truly unique and historically significant novel and the only book written about life in the Japanese-American internment camps during World War II written at the time by an internee.Hiroshi Nakamura, along with his family, spent the war years in Salinas Assembly Center, Salinas, California; Camp II of the Poston Relocation Center, Parker, Arizona; and Tule Lake Segregation Center, Newell, California. It was during this period that he put down on paper what he was observing, experiencing, and hearing and expressed them in this novel. Nakamura captures exquisitely the thinking and mood of the people. It accurately evokes the fears, anxieties, suspicions, cynicisms and passions brought out by camp life. Nakamura almost' succeeded in getting Treadmill published in the late 1940s. While editors and publishers thought well of the novel, they would not publish it as it was too sensitive' an issue. Professor Peter Suzuki discovered Treadmill while he was doing some research on internment camps of Japanese Americans.This revised edition of Treadmill contains a new introductory essay by Professor Tara Fickle discussing the historical importance of Nakamura's work. Also included are a series of photographs of Japanese internment camps in California taken by renowned photographer Ansel Adams taken in 1943. Adams had unprecedented access to life inside the camps and these photographs provide an exceptional visual accompaniment to Nakamura's story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mosaic Press
• Release date: Oct 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781771615945

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Teru Noguchi noticed the shiny black Ford as soon as she stepped of the junior college bus. She idly wondered whose car it was before she turned to wave a final goodbye to the tousled heads gayly poking through the bus windows. Janet, she would miss especially.

Don’t forget to write, they called, see you after the war.

Teroo, Janet called frantically from the retreating bus, Bye.

Teru let her arm drop wearily when she could no longer make out Janet’s face. Strange. Neither her father nor mother was working in the neat rows of vegetables which grew on both sides of the driveway. Must be important, she thought, for both of them to leave the last-minute work which had to be done. She could see they still hadn’t bunched enough carrots to bring to the markets in the morning and they had intended to finish hoeing the parsnips, though she had first rebelled at the thought that all that work was going for nothing. Her father and mother, though, had insisted that it was their duty to take care of the vegetables up to the last possible moment. Her wide-spaced eyes were momentarily narrowed in puzzlement but even then it was easy to notice the generous separation of eyebrow from eye which imparted that incredibly soft Oriental look to her inevitably brown eyes. Harder to see was the slight cleft in her chin which was inherited from her father. The photogenic hollows and the olive-smooth freshness of her complexion were from her mother.

The afternoon sun picked out coppery tinges in the dark black hair which curled softly away from her face and ended in glossy curls at the back of her head. Her stride was free and her head was carried with a buoyant lift. Her legs were long for Japanese and she stood a slender five foot three in her stocking feet. It was five months after Pearl Harbor and the army proclamation banning all persons of Japanese ancestry from the coastal areas of California and urging all Japanese to pull up stakes and relocate in the mountain states and the middle west. That very morning General DeWitt had announced that this voluntary evacuation would end Saturday midnight. It was a period of blackouts, rumors, and uncertainty, especially for persons of Japanese ancestry like Teru. Teru was wondering if the presence of the strange car had anything to do with the sudden family decision that morning to evacuate to Fresno before the Saturday deadline, as she stepped lightly up the porch steps of the red-roofed cottage and pulled the door open.

Who’s a call--, she began cheerily but her voice faltered and was smothered in the strained stillness of the room. The distraught face of her mother looked up from the open suitcase into which she was putting some heavy underwear. Teru remembered washing and packing them away for the summer. The room itself wasn’t quite the same. It looked intruded on, somehow. It wasn’t exactly in disorder but everything looked like it needed straightening.

But why?, Teru repeated weakly.

We have our orders and carry them out, the man said.

I’m sorry but we haven’t much time. Your father tells me your sister is planning to be at a party and that your brother is still at school for a track meet. I would suggest you get in touch with them. We won’t stay much longer.

You mean we won’t see our father anymore?

The man shook his head slowly and glanced quickly at his partner.

I don’t know, he said.

Sally would be at the Motoyamas’ until the going-away party that night at seven. It was a little after four o’clock now. The Motoyamas lived on the other side of town and had no phone.

I’ll go get them, Teru said to her father and mother and automatically picked up her purse.

Just a minute, the shorter man suddenly said, Let’s see that.

Teru looked at him surprised but there was no mistaking what he meant. She hesitated, then silently handed him her purse. He immediately opened it and put a hairy hand inside. Teru watched him, feeling much like a criminal on trial for her life. The man looked up.

You can go, he said flatly.

Teru walked fast down the steps to the battered pickup they used for hauling vegetables to town. Her father started to follow her outside but the FBI men shook their heads warningly.

He called to her from the porch, There are some things I want to talk to you about so hurry back as soon as possible.

Please wait until I come back, Teru asked the FBI men.

Better hurry. We can’t wait long, they said.

Teru didn’t realize she was driving so fast until she nearly overran the car ahead of her. She jammed on her brakes and waited impatiently for an opening so she could pass. She wondered who had caused her father’s arrest and her thoughts returned bitterly to one thing. Japanese American Citizens League [JACL]. They must be responsible. Only yesterday, kids who commuted to Salinas Junior College from Monterey had been saying that the Citizens League leaders had been responsible for the arrest of the Monterey Japanese. She hadn’t paid much attention because no one volunteered any kind of proof except Yoneo.

Yoneo had sworn that nobody had known of his having kept his rifle and left it with a friend instead of turning it into the police station except for a certain person very active in JACL. Only that person could have reported it and gotten Yoneo into trouble when they questioned and later interned his father....

Mrs. Motoyama came to the door.

Hello Teru-san, she said cheerfully. Have you gotten a little ready to go?

Teru’s mind was unprepared to deal with anything else.

Is Sally here?, she asked abruptly. Mrs. Motoyama sensed something amiss.

Is something wrong? She just left in the car with Yukiko. They didn’t say where they were going.

They’ve come to take Father, Teru said.

They?

FBI. They’re going to intern him. They’re leaving right away, so I came after Sally. The words rushed out jerkily.

This is terrible, Mrs. Motoyama said. I don’t know where they went. Papa went into town to the WCCA [Wartime Civilian Control Administration] to get the permits to move to Fresno but George is out on the tractor. I’ll call him.

They hurried outside. The tractor was coming slowly towards them in front of a cloud of dust, and Teru recognized George in the shapeless felt hat he usually wore when working. Mrs. Motoyama beckoned wildly and George had apparently been looking their way because he immediately unhitched the tractor and came towards them with wide open throttle. He braked the tractor to a stop with a whirling turn and hopped off with eyes only for Teru.

Hi, he grinned widely, showing even white teeth. What’s doing?

He was big and looked even bigger in the baggy, dust-covered overalls. His face was caked with dirt and grime but you could still see the cleanboned good looks of him. Teru felt relieved just looking. There was something solid and comforting about him.

You look like you just decided you’d have to settle for me. Why so sad looking?

They explained quickly and his boyish grin disappeared.

Those crazy kids would be out joy riding at a time like this, he said. I’ll take the truck and look around a little. Maybe I’ll run into them.

He looked at Teru, Unless there’s something else I can do to help.

Teru shook her head. Mother is packing. I’d better go back though, she said. "They may