Concerns about Japanese spies and informants existed long before the war began. As early as 1917, the F.B.I. tracked plantation labor organizers in Hawai’i to identify potential “Japanese subversives.” In the years leading up to the Pearl Harbor attack, federal investigators reached out to the Japanese American Citizens League, who provided names of individuals suspected of subversive activities. Community leaders such as Japanese language school teachers, Shinto priests, and heads of kenjinkai were targeted. Using lists compiled before the attack on Pearl Harbor, federal agents and local law enforcement swiftly arrested those blacklisted as potential saboteurs within hours after the attack.

Nikki Nojima Louis was celebrating her fourth birthday when Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. That evening, the F.B.I. entered her home and arrested her father. “They didn’t have to explain anything to you. No due process. The grounds were: you were Japanese,” she says. “We never lived together as a family again.” To learn more about Nikki’s family’s experience, click here.

Hearing rumors about potential home raids, Hisao Homma’s father drained his koi pond and burned photographs and documents that could trace his family back to Japan. When the F.B.I. arrived at his home in Sawtelle, CA, they confiscated his family’s shortwave radios and heirloom Japanese swords. To learn more about Hisao’s experience, click here.

If the order had explicitly mentioned Japanese Americans, it might have faced greater legal challenges on the grounds of racial discrimination. The vague language helped to shield the order from immediate legal scrutiny, making it easier to implement quickly.

Kiyoshi Shigekawa and his wife Misako met on Terminal Island and married just six months before the Pearl Harbor attack. “Because Terminal Island was next to a naval air station, they had 48 hours to leave,” recounts their daughter Marlene. Forced to abandon their home and Misako’s family’s drug store, they left for Anaheim, where Kiyoshi grew up. To learn more about Kiyoshi’s experiences, click here.

Assembly centers were temporary facilities used to house Japanese Americans during the early stages of their incarceration, while the more permanent concentration camps were designed for long-term housing. Assembly centers were typically more rudimentary with limited facilities. Some families report sleeping in reeking horse stables on makeshift “pillows” made from sacks stuffed with hay.

At Santa Anita Assembly Center, Taishi Ikuta and her sister were assigned to live in a horse stable. They used sheets and blankets to separate their living quarters and create makeshift partitions when using the public latrines. “They lived in Seabiscuit’s stall. That was the high point of their experience,” says her son Paul. To learn more about Taishi’s experience, click here.

Fumiko Takayanagi’s father Tokutaro owned a flower nursery in Berkeley, CA. When his home was designated a restricted zone, Tokutaro was no longer able to commute from his home to his nursery. He stayed with friends who lived outside of the restricted zone to continue going to work. “He could not cross University Avenue without being arrested,” Fumiko says. “My younger brother packed a lunch for my father and took it to him at noon each day.” To learn more about Fumiko’s experience, click here.

Toyo Okumura’s family was only given one-week notice to vacate their home. As their “evacuation” date approached, strangers began to show up at their doorstep to collect their appliances and other valuables. Her family had little choice but to give their belongings away. Carrying only what they could carry, Toyo’s family was sent to Santa Anita Assembly Center. To learn more about Toyo’s experiences, click here.

The incarceration of Japanese Americans was rooted in the racist presumption that all people of Japanese ancestry posed a threat to national security. However, this perception began to waver as the U.S. faced labor shortages—especially agricultural workers—as the war raged on. Industry leaders looked to Japanese American incarcerees—many of whom immigrated to the U.S. as farmers—to help fill the gap. In response, the government established a seasonal leave program, allowing Japanese American incarcerees to temporarily leave camp for agricultural work. This set a precedent for incarcerees to leave their camps to seek other forms of employment.

By the end of 1942, only 884 incarcerees had applied for resettlement, due in part to the cumbersome application process. Many were also worried about facing discrimination, struggling to find work and housing, and being separated from family members who weren’t eligible for resettlement.

Escorted by armed soldiers, incarcerees were herded onto buses and trains and sent to their designated concentration camps, which were scattered in remote areas across the country. With the window shades pulled down, many had no idea where they were headed over the course of their days-long journeys and were stunned by the stark landscape and unforgiving temperatures upon their arrival.

On the 30-hour train ride from Puyallup Assembly Center to Minidoka, Fujiko Gardner remembers the shades being drawn. “I thought it was to keep the hot sun from coming in,” she says. “But somebody […] said ‘No, that was to keep people from seeing all the Japanese on the train.’” Two songs were playing on loop throughout the train ride: Bing Crosby’s ‘Don’t Fence Me In’, which was popular at the time, and Benny Goodman’s ‘Idaho’. “We didn’t know where we were going, but we knew we were going to Idaho,” Fujiko says. To learn more about Fujiko’s experience, click here.

By 1943, the United States was deeply involved in World War II, and the military needed more troops. Japanese Americans—particularly Nisei—were seen as valuable assets, especially for their language skills, which could be used in intelligence and translation roles in the Pacific Theater. The military recognized that Japanese American soldiers could provide critical assistance in communications, translation, and espionage against Japan.

The questionnaire included two questions that sparked confusion among the camp population:

Question #27 asked: “Are you willing to serve in the armed forces of the United States on combat duty, wherever ordered?”

Question #28 asked: “Will you swear unqualified allegiance to the United States of America and faithfully defend the United States from any or all attacks by foreign or domestic forces, and foreswear any form of allegiance or obedience to the Japanese emperor, or any other foreign government, power or organization?”

The first question troubled incarcerees who feared leaving vulnerable family members behind in the camps. It also offended Japanese Americans who had previously served in the U.S. forces but were discharged or reclassified to IV-C, a classification reserved for aliens.

The second question perplexed U.S.-born Japanese Americans who never had any allegiance to the Japanese emperor in the first place. It also raised concerns for foreign-born Japanese immigrants who feared answering “yes” would render them stateless refugees, since they were not yet able to naturalize into U.S. citizens at this time.

The War Relocation Authority labeled those who answered “no” or refused to give an affirmative answer to these two questions as “disloyal” and sent them to the Tule Lake Segregation Center. This group—known as “no-no’s”—made up about 12,000 of the 78,000 incarcerees surveyed. For decades after the war, “no-no’s” were stigmatized as traitors by the Nikkei community and the general public.

In the year leading up to the Pearl Harbor attack, Keige Kaku served in the U.S. Army as an engineer. Shortly after the attack, he was suddenly discharged and sent to Poston concentration camp. When Keige was given the loyalty questionnaire, he refused to answer “yes” to questions 27 and 28, and he was sent to Tule Lake Segregation Center. To learn more about Keige’s experience, click here.

While incarcerated at Tule Lake, Toshi Kuge exchanged letters with his then-girlfriend Mae, who was incarcerated at Minidoka. As the segregation date approached, he worried that their families would be further dispersed across the country. “Have you heard from your folks? […] I hear that this segregation program might split up many families,” he writes. To learn more about Toshi’s experience, click here.

Draft resisters were charged with refusing to report for induction under the Selective Training and Service Act of 1940. They were convicted and sentenced to up to three years in prison at federal courts in Wyoming, Idaho, Colorado, Utah, Arkansas and Arizona. The only exception occurred in California, where Judge Louis E. Goodman dismissed charges against 27 Tule Lake draft resisters, declaring it unconstitutional to incarcerate citizens on suspicion of disloyalty and then draft and prosecute them. This decision—which was not appealed—allowed draft resisters from Tule Lake to avoid time in a federal penitentiary.

While incarcerated at Tule Lake, Tadayasu Abo renounced his citizenship due to fear that his family—his wife, son and a newborn daughter—would be sent to another hostile environment after the war. “Personal safety for my family was a constant worry,” he wrote in a 1956 affidavit. “We believed from everything that was done to us that the U.S. government had given up on us as citizens.” To learn more about Tadayasu’s experience, click here.

During their incarceration, many Japanese Americans lost their homes, businesses, savings and possessions. With no financial assets or job prospects to return to, some feared leaving the relative security of the camps. Others were concerned about the hostility and discrimination they might face upon returning to their former communities. Some were traumatized and disillusioned from their years behind barbed wire, leading to a lack of motivation to start over in a society that had turned against them. It took over seven months for the War Relocation Authority to close all 10 concentration camps after the war.

Some Japanese Americans attempted to return to their former homes on the West Coast. However, many found their properties had been lost, sold, or vandalized during their absence.

As part of their resettlement programs, the War Relocation Authority established field offices in the Midwest and East Coast to encourage Japanese Americans to relocate to these areas and reduce the concentration of Japanese Americans on the West Coast. Seeking potential job opportunities, a significant number of Japanese Americans moved to cities like Chicago, New York, Denver, and Salt Lake City after the war.

Many incarcerees struggled to find housing. Some lived in hostels, boarding houses and public housing projects while others rented out garages of other people’s homes and pitched tents on their employer’s property to get back on their feet.

After the war, Elizabeth Okayama’s father traveled from Heart Mountain to Los Angeles to check on their family home and business. “When he went back to look at the place where we lived, he saw, in business windows, signs saying ‘No Japs Allowed’,” Elizabeth says. “My father was determined not to take his family back to that racist environment.” Elizabeth’s family ultimately decided to start their lives over in Chicago. To learn more about Elizabeth’s experience, click here.

Prior to their incarceration, Irene Shikibu Shigaki’s family had left their home in the care of a friend to rent out to tenants while they were gone. However, when they returned to Seattle, the tenants refused to leave. “My family lived literally a block down the street from their own house in the Japanese language school, which had been set up as a hostel for families returning to Seattle,” says her niece Erin.“That was a strange, almost torturous thing. They could see their house if they looked up the street.” To learn more about Irene’s experience, click here.

Prior to their incarceration, Mary Higuchi’s family had stored their belongings in a barn. When they returned after the war, they found the barn empty. “There was nothing there. Nothing except for broken boxes, empty boxes. Maybe a few broken dishes,” she says. With nowhere to return to, Mary’s family moved to a house with no indoor plumbing. It took Mary’s family nearly a decade to save enough money to put a down payment on farmland that they could call their own. To learn more about Mary’s experience, click here.

Some Japanese Americans—particularly older Issei and some Nisei—were opposed to the redress movement. Traditional Japanese cultural values such as “gaman” and “shikataganai” led some to believe that they should not seek redress but instead move on from the injustices of the past. Others were concerned that a call for redress might provoke further discrimination or diminish the significance of their experiences. For example, former incarceree and journalist Bill Hosokawa argued that calling for monetary compensation “cheapened the sacrifice of the ordeal we went through.”

While the scale and content of the pilgrimages vary by camp, most pilgrimages include site tours, educational sessions, and intergenerational conversations between survivors and their descendants. Although many participants have direct ties to the wartime incarceration, the pilgrimages also draw many attendees from outside the Japanese American community. Many believe that returning to these sites of trauma provides the closure they need to heal and move forward.

Reid Nishikawa makes regular pilgrimages to Poston, where his mother was incarcerated. “It’s almost like returning to the beginning,” he says. “Your DNA came through that camp, and you carry that same DNA throughout your whole life. Then your DNA is transferred to the next generation. It’s really a spiritual experience to go there.” To learn more about Reid’s experience, click here.

Intelligence reports from the Office of Naval Intelligence (O.N.I.) indicated that the O.N.I. had conducted thorough investigations and found no evidence of espionage or sabotage among Japanese Americans, directly contradicting the government’s claims used to justify their mass incarceration. In a January 1942 memo, Lt. Kenneth Ringle of the Office of Naval Intelligence concluded that “the entire ‘Japanese problem’ has been magnified out of its true proportion, largely because of the physical characteristics of the people.”

Furthermore, internal documents from the U.S. Department of Justice revealed that some government officials, including then-Attorney General Francis Biddle and Assistant Attorney General Edward Ennis, were aware that the military’s claims of “military necessity” for the exclusion and incarceration of Japanese Americans were unfounded.

The researchers also found that key government reports like General John L. DeWitt’s Final Report, Japanese Evacuation from the West Coast, 1942 had been altered to remove evidence that contradicted the justification for the mass incarceration. They also uncovered a memorandum revealing that Charles Fahy, the solicitor general who argued the cases before the Supreme Court, was aware of the O.N.I. reports and other evidence that contradicted the government’s position but chose not to disclose them to the Court. This withholding of evidence constituted a violation of the legal duty to provide the Court with all relevant information.