Executive order 9066
WHEREAS the successful prosecution of the war requires every possible protection against espionage and against sabotage to national-defense material, national-defense premises, and national-defense utilities as defined in Section 4, Act of April 20, 1918, 40 Stat. 533, as amended by the Act of November 30, 1940, 54 Stat. 1220, and the Act of August 21, 1941, 55 Stat. 655 (U.S.C. Title 50, Sec. 104):
NOW, THEREFORE, by virtue of the authority vested in me as President of the United States, and Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy, I hereby authorize and direct the Secretary of War, and the Military Commanders whom he may designate:
I hereby further authorize and direct all Executive Departments, independent establishments and other Federal Agencies, to assist the Secretary of War or the said Military Commanders in carrying out this Executive Order, including the furnishing of medical aid, hospitalization, food, clothing, transportation, use of land, shelter, and other supplies, equipment, utilities, facilities, and services.
This order shall not be construed as modifying or limiting in any way the authority heretofore granted under Executive Order No. 8972, nor shall it be construed as limiting or modifying the duty and responsibility of the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), with respect to the investigation of alleged acts of sabotage or the duty and responsibility of the Attorney General and the Department of Justice.
Franklin D. Roosevelt
The White House,
February 19, 1942.
WHEREAS the successful prosecution of the war requires every possible protection against espionage and against sabotage to national-defense material, national-defense premises, and national-defense utilities as defined in Section 4, Act of April 20, 1918, 40 Stat. 533, as amended by the Act of November 30, 1940, 54 Stat. 1220, and the Act of August 21, 1941, 55 Stat. 655 (U.S.C. Title 50, Sec. 104):
NOW, THEREFORE, by virtue of the authority vested in me as President of the United States, and Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy, I hereby authorize and direct the Secretary of War, and the Military Commanders whom he may designate:
- To prescribe military areas in such places and of such extent as he may determine, from which any or all persons may be excluded, and with respect to which, the right of any person to enter, remain in, or leave shall be subject to whatever restrictions the Secretary of War or the appropriate Military Commander may impose in his discretion.
- The Secretary of War is hereby authorized to provide for residents of any such area who are excluded there from, such transportation, food, shelter, and other accommodations as may be necessary in the judgment of the Secretary of War or the said Military Commander, and until other arrangements are made, to accomplish the purpose of this order.
I hereby further authorize and direct all Executive Departments, independent establishments and other Federal Agencies, to assist the Secretary of War or the said Military Commanders in carrying out this Executive Order, including the furnishing of medical aid, hospitalization, food, clothing, transportation, use of land, shelter, and other supplies, equipment, utilities, facilities, and services.
This order shall not be construed as modifying or limiting in any way the authority heretofore granted under Executive Order No. 8972, nor shall it be construed as limiting or modifying the duty and responsibility of the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), with respect to the investigation of alleged acts of sabotage or the duty and responsibility of the Attorney General and the Department of Justice.
Franklin D. Roosevelt
The White House,
February 19, 1942.
(14-6) Doctor Roy Tanaka, from a personal interview in 1979
Roy Tanaka was a young doctor in the San Diego Nikkei community during the 1940s. During an air raid black-out in January of 1942, Dr. Tanaka received a panicked telephone call from one of his Issei patients whose wife was having a miscarriage. The man was so frantic that he could not speak English, so Dr, Tanaka calmed him by speaking in Japanese. Dr. Tanaka recounted the events of the next day:
When I walked into the office (the next day) my receptionist was excited and all pale. She said, "Th-th-there are two men out there they look like the FBI."
I went into the waiting room and said, "I'm Doctor Tanaka. Is there anything I can do for you?"... They said they wanted to talk to me. So I said, "Alright, go ahead."
"No, no, no," they said. "We want to talk to you at FBI headquarters." I had no idea where the headquarters were, and the agents said it was at Sixth and Broadway. I could just imagine trying to find parking at Sixth and Broadway so I said, "Can I ride with you guys?" and they said that was just what they had in mind.
As soon as we got there I was taken into the office of Harold Nathan the Special Agent in Charge. He looked at me and said, "What's the big idea of speaking Japanese on the phone during a blackout?"
I said, "I'm an American of Japanese descent and my practice depends on being able to speak Japanese. This man cannot speak English so I speak to him in Japanese. That's what I've been doing for the last five years."
"Tell me," I said, "I'm an American citizen, born in this country. I've been a Selective Service examiner for over a year and have received a whole bunch of commendations from the governor, Lt. Colonel Hershey, and the President. I'm a doctor. Do you think I should fulfill my duties as a doctor or stay home and not answer the phone in time of an emergency?"
You know the answer I got? He said, "If I were you, I wouldn't use your rights as an American citizen just now." I'll never forget that.
On the morning of Wednesday, April 8, 1942, over fifteen hundred men, women, and children gathered at the Santa Fe Depot where they were met by armed military police and two waiting trains. A sense of the day was later recalled by Dr. Tanaka:[1]
They used two trains. I was asked to convoy (be responsible for) the second train. The first train was convoyed by an Army officer, a red-head; I think he was at least a captain. I'll never forget... he came up to me saying: "Look doc this is a hell of a Goddamn mess, isn't it? But look, don't forget you’re convoying the second train. Regardless of the M.P.s (Military Police) and everybody else, you are in command of the second train. Don't take any shit from anyone. If you do, let me know and I'll chew someone's ass out."
Around eight o'clock in the evening mothers started coming up to me saying "We can't feed the babies." We did have prepared milk, but we didn't have any way to warm it.
I asked one of the guards.... He was an elderly man, and I said to him, "Sir, we are having a problem. These mothers have babies that need to be fed, but we need some warm milk. Where can I get some hot water?"
He said, "That's a problem isn't it."
So I said "Maybe we can use the men's restroom, maybe there's enough hot water in there." So that was all I was doing. Commuting back and forth. There was enough hot water... just lukewarm.... So I warmed the bottles as best I could and gave them to the mothers, and someone else would hand me their bottles to be warmed. At least the infants ate that night, I don't think I did.
Once the San Diego Nikkei reached the Santa Anita Assembly Center, Dr. Tanaka served as a “community physician.” According to Dr. Tanaka, diarrhea periodically became endemic to certain mess halls, prompting the Center to rigidly enforce sanitation standards. The hospital at Santa Anita was a seventy-five bed facility headed by Dr. Norman Kobayashi. Dr. Tanaka remembers months of twelve hour days, seven days a week, with a twenty-four hour hospital duty tour every fifth day. The hospital was set up in the paddock area and had none of the conveniences of a modern hospital.[2]
We did some surgery in the hospital. We eventually got the equipment, but it was a while before we could do surgery at all. Before we had the equipment we would send an ambulance to take them to the L.A. County Hospital.
We used to make house calls for people who couldn't make it to the hospital. There was a couple with only one boy from someplace up north. I remember I was the first to see this boy when he got sick. I told the couple, "This child is awfully sick. Why don't you take him to the hospital?" And, the father said, "I'm not going to take my kid to a Goddamn horse hospital." I said, "You and I are more or less in the same boat. Sure that's not a hospital, but it's better than staying in a horse stable. At least we could probably do something for him. Take blood samples, things like that." He said, "Absolutely not."
Three other doctors looked at the boy and when the fourth saw him he looked so bad that the doctor insisted the boy be brought to the hospital. We had to give the child a transfusion but we had no way to cross match the blood. We sent him to L.A. County but he died there.[3]
[1] Estes, Donald H. and Matthew T. “Further and Further Away: The Relocation of San Diego’s Nikkei Community - 1942,” Journal of San Diego History: The War Comes to San Diego, 40:1 (Spring-Summer, 1993), San Diego, California.
[2] Estes, Donald H. and Matthew T. “Further and Further Away.”
[3] The boy who died was probably five-year-old Shigeto Tauchi, whose funeral was the first held at the Center. See: Pacemaker, 6 June 1942, page 4. The Pacemaker was the "official" internee published organ for the Santa Anita Assembly Center. The authors appreciate the loan of a complete set of the Pacemaker from Mrs. Elizabeth Yamada of San Diego, California.
Roy Tanaka was a young doctor in the San Diego Nikkei community during the 1940s. During an air raid black-out in January of 1942, Dr. Tanaka received a panicked telephone call from one of his Issei patients whose wife was having a miscarriage. The man was so frantic that he could not speak English, so Dr, Tanaka calmed him by speaking in Japanese. Dr. Tanaka recounted the events of the next day:
When I walked into the office (the next day) my receptionist was excited and all pale. She said, "Th-th-there are two men out there they look like the FBI."
I went into the waiting room and said, "I'm Doctor Tanaka. Is there anything I can do for you?"... They said they wanted to talk to me. So I said, "Alright, go ahead."
"No, no, no," they said. "We want to talk to you at FBI headquarters." I had no idea where the headquarters were, and the agents said it was at Sixth and Broadway. I could just imagine trying to find parking at Sixth and Broadway so I said, "Can I ride with you guys?" and they said that was just what they had in mind.
As soon as we got there I was taken into the office of Harold Nathan the Special Agent in Charge. He looked at me and said, "What's the big idea of speaking Japanese on the phone during a blackout?"
I said, "I'm an American of Japanese descent and my practice depends on being able to speak Japanese. This man cannot speak English so I speak to him in Japanese. That's what I've been doing for the last five years."
"Tell me," I said, "I'm an American citizen, born in this country. I've been a Selective Service examiner for over a year and have received a whole bunch of commendations from the governor, Lt. Colonel Hershey, and the President. I'm a doctor. Do you think I should fulfill my duties as a doctor or stay home and not answer the phone in time of an emergency?"
You know the answer I got? He said, "If I were you, I wouldn't use your rights as an American citizen just now." I'll never forget that.
On the morning of Wednesday, April 8, 1942, over fifteen hundred men, women, and children gathered at the Santa Fe Depot where they were met by armed military police and two waiting trains. A sense of the day was later recalled by Dr. Tanaka:[1]
They used two trains. I was asked to convoy (be responsible for) the second train. The first train was convoyed by an Army officer, a red-head; I think he was at least a captain. I'll never forget... he came up to me saying: "Look doc this is a hell of a Goddamn mess, isn't it? But look, don't forget you’re convoying the second train. Regardless of the M.P.s (Military Police) and everybody else, you are in command of the second train. Don't take any shit from anyone. If you do, let me know and I'll chew someone's ass out."
Around eight o'clock in the evening mothers started coming up to me saying "We can't feed the babies." We did have prepared milk, but we didn't have any way to warm it.
I asked one of the guards.... He was an elderly man, and I said to him, "Sir, we are having a problem. These mothers have babies that need to be fed, but we need some warm milk. Where can I get some hot water?"
He said, "That's a problem isn't it."
So I said "Maybe we can use the men's restroom, maybe there's enough hot water in there." So that was all I was doing. Commuting back and forth. There was enough hot water... just lukewarm.... So I warmed the bottles as best I could and gave them to the mothers, and someone else would hand me their bottles to be warmed. At least the infants ate that night, I don't think I did.
Once the San Diego Nikkei reached the Santa Anita Assembly Center, Dr. Tanaka served as a “community physician.” According to Dr. Tanaka, diarrhea periodically became endemic to certain mess halls, prompting the Center to rigidly enforce sanitation standards. The hospital at Santa Anita was a seventy-five bed facility headed by Dr. Norman Kobayashi. Dr. Tanaka remembers months of twelve hour days, seven days a week, with a twenty-four hour hospital duty tour every fifth day. The hospital was set up in the paddock area and had none of the conveniences of a modern hospital.[2]
We did some surgery in the hospital. We eventually got the equipment, but it was a while before we could do surgery at all. Before we had the equipment we would send an ambulance to take them to the L.A. County Hospital.
We used to make house calls for people who couldn't make it to the hospital. There was a couple with only one boy from someplace up north. I remember I was the first to see this boy when he got sick. I told the couple, "This child is awfully sick. Why don't you take him to the hospital?" And, the father said, "I'm not going to take my kid to a Goddamn horse hospital." I said, "You and I are more or less in the same boat. Sure that's not a hospital, but it's better than staying in a horse stable. At least we could probably do something for him. Take blood samples, things like that." He said, "Absolutely not."
Three other doctors looked at the boy and when the fourth saw him he looked so bad that the doctor insisted the boy be brought to the hospital. We had to give the child a transfusion but we had no way to cross match the blood. We sent him to L.A. County but he died there.[3]
[1] Estes, Donald H. and Matthew T. “Further and Further Away: The Relocation of San Diego’s Nikkei Community - 1942,” Journal of San Diego History: The War Comes to San Diego, 40:1 (Spring-Summer, 1993), San Diego, California.
[2] Estes, Donald H. and Matthew T. “Further and Further Away.”
[3] The boy who died was probably five-year-old Shigeto Tauchi, whose funeral was the first held at the Center. See: Pacemaker, 6 June 1942, page 4. The Pacemaker was the "official" internee published organ for the Santa Anita Assembly Center. The authors appreciate the loan of a complete set of the Pacemaker from Mrs. Elizabeth Yamada of San Diego, California.