by Kirby Larson
Pop said during the Great Depression there was this saying: “Use it up, wear it out, make do, or do without.” If there is one thing I’ve learned at Minidoka, it’s how to make do.
Betty and I both agreed it was a beautiful tree, no matter what. I thought about Trixie’s mom and how every year their tree had a different color scheme. She had some of the fanciest Christmas trees I’d ever seen. But I don’t think any of them hold a candle to this one.
Thursday, December 24, 1942
DeeDee —
I want to be back in our own house, on Spruce Street, hanging stockings with Margie and Hank — and Stan, too, of course. And I want to have meatballs and rice pudding with Mr. and Mrs. Harada, like we always do on Christmas Eve, and I want Pop to read the Christmas story.
There’s nothing good about Christmas Eve in Twin Falls. None of our family is here. Our stockings are in Seattle. And Pop and I tried to make meatballs and ended up eating fried egg sandwiches.
Ho, ho, ho.
Christmas Day, 1942
DeeDee —
Santa brought a special delivery. Margie! She took the train clear from Seattle to spend the holiday with us. It was a total surprise. Well, Miss McCullough knew about it and had picked her up at the train station. We made fudge and played gin rummy and told Hank stories. Margie even brought presents. She’d sewed bolero vests for me and Betty; mine’s green and Betty’s is blue. I slipped mine right on over my best white blouse and it fits perfectly! And she brought Pop some Prince Albert tobacco and a pair of fur-lined driving gloves, which he could really use. The Blue Box’s steering wheel practically freezes in this cold weather. Miss McCullough roasted a chicken for supper and then afterward we all went to the camp.
There was a decorating competition between the blocks. I heard Dining Halls 17 and 36 tied for the best decorated, but I thought that Block 5, where the Satos and Mrs. Harada live, should’ve won. White crepe paper and red paper lanterns were strung from the ceiling and the tables had been waxed until they gleamed. Up front, where the food was served, hung green construction paper letters spelling out MERRY CHRISTMAS. Mrs. Harada had cut them out and each letter was a work of art. Someone’s record player blared scratchy versions of Christmas carols.
Jim produced Santa hats. He plunked one on my head and the other on Betty’s. “You elves can help Santa,” he said. “Come with me.” He handed us each a big basket overflowing with cellophane bags of candy. He grabbed a basket loaded with oranges and packets of nuts.
“Ho, ho, ho!” he called out. “Come see what Santa’s elves have for you!” Mikey and Tommy were first in line. Every single child got an orange, a packet of nuts, and a bag of candy.
“Here you go,” I said to one little girl. She took the bag of candy and carried it back to her mother like it was full of precious jewels. I watched her open the bag and examine each piece of candy. Then she gave one to her mom and one to her dad before she took one for herself.
Tonight, I almost forgot that I was in a camp. I sure hope that was true for Betty and the rest.
Sunday, December 27, 1942
DeeDee —
Margie stayed as long as she could, I know. While she was here, she taught Betty and me a new card game called Spite and Malice, trimmed my hair, and talked Pop into letting me wear my Tangee lipstick to school on Fridays.
Margie is a big band orchestra all by herself, so much fun and energy. When she left this morning, the zing went out of the house. I think Pop even felt it because he kept fiddling with the volume knob on the radio, as if the Andrews Sisters belting out “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy” could make up for the quiet Margie left behind.
She says she’ll try to come back at Easter.
Twin Falls felt like home with my sister here.
Friday, January 1, 1943
DeeDee —
Betty and I were talking about New Year’s resolutions and Jim overheard us. He pounded his chest like Tarzan and said he doesn’t need to make any because he’s perfect. Betty threw her pillow at him.
It’s the kind of stuff Hank and I used to do, too.
When he was home.
Monday, January 4, 1943
DeeDee —
The mud is finally frozen. It’s hard to walk on because it’s rutted and slick but it’s a lot less messy, that’s for sure. The PE class is helping to build a skating rink where the ball fields will be. It should be done in a week or so. I don’t have skates but Betty knows someone who will share with us. I can’t wait!
Saturday, January 9, 1943
DeeDee —
Riding the wildest roller coaster created would be tame compared to the ups and downs I feel when we hear from Hank. I get so excited when I see one of those envelopes with his chicken scratch on the front. But then I slip into worry about what I’ll find inside.
Today’s letter was full of the censor’s handiwork. One huge chunk was completely cut out! But I did get the gist of it: They’d been seeing a lot of action and he was proud to be part of this crew. “The Navy brass tends to underplay things so when you read in the papers that we beat the Japanese, it’s Beat, with a capital B. They may have more equipment but we do just fine.” I knew from all his years of playing sports that Hank is no braggart. If he says something, it’s true. His letter gave me hope.
It’s been so long since he and I had used our code that it took me a minute to decipher what he’d written at the end of the letter: “lelt yettb shankt rof lla eht setterl.”
When I told her, she blushed.
Exactly what have Betty and Hank been writing to each other? Hmmmm.
Monday, January 11, 1943
DeeDee —
Finally, finally the Navy’s talking — in the paper today, the Navy Department reported on the losses in the Battle of Santa Cruz islands. The Hornet was eventually sunk but not before its planes helped shoot down 156 Japanese warplanes. And listen to this: “At the height of an attack, a 1,000-pound bomb pierced the Hornet‘s deck and entered the room next to the ordnance room — and it did not explode. The ordnance chief entered the room and disarmed the bomb — in the dark!” Can you imagine being that calm and cool? I sure can’t.
It sounds like it was quite the skirmish — the paper said we dropped over 20,000 pounds of bombs and sunk four of their transport ships. Seems hard to imagine any ship, on either side, surviving that kind of fighting. Maybe Hank’s right — no matter what they throw at it, the Japanese navy will never take down the Enterprise.
Tuesday, January 12, 1943
DeeDee —
So much for ice-skating—the water they pumped into the rink last night leaked out.
Can it get any colder? Or foggier?
I wrote another long letter to Hank and signed it “Your sister, the Pipersicle.”
Thursday, January 14, 1943
DeeDee —
It’s eight below but at least the sun is shining. Our teachers make us rotate seats every half hour because when you sit near the potbelly stove, you fry, but when you’re sitting across the room from it, you freeze. This game of musical chairs might be funny if we weren’t so miserable.
When we got back to Twin Falls at the end of the day, we found a letter from John. We hadn’t heard from him in a while so it was good to get caught up. He bragged about his first-quarter grades, writing, “Maybe I really will be Professor Anderson like Piper said!” He says college is growing on him and not just because Donna is in several of his classes, but that it doesn’t hurt.
I worry about him — he sounds pretty sweet on this Donna. I wonder how she feels about him?
Sunday, January 17, 1943
DeeDee —
Trixie finally wrote again. She apologized for taking so long to write back, blah, blah, blah. Her letter was full of school news but she must be running with a whole new crowd. I didn’t know any of the kids she mentioned.
Seattle feels farther away than ever.
Wednesday, January 20, 1943
DeeDee —
It hit 12 degrees below today. If you don’t wear mittens, your hands will stick to the doorknobs! I didn’t care how I looked — I wore two coats to school. At least I have two coats.
Friday, January 22, 1943
DeeDee —
The Hazelton Lions Club wives came on a tour. Betty and I got excused from class to escort them around. The ladies were all dressed up with not one pair of galoshes between them.
“How far do we have to walk?” the chairwoman asked.
I pointed up the road to Block 4. “We thought you’d like to see the nursery school and one of the elementary schools, and then we’ll walk over to Block 7 for lunch.”
We tried to find the driest path, but those pumps they were wearing were no match for the muck. One lady stepped right out of her spectators, landing stocking-footed in the mud. Luckily, Betty had some tissues in her pocket to help clean her up.
The ladies oohed and aahed over all the cute toddlers in the nursery school. “How wise to simply bring out a few toys at a time for the children,” one lady said. The nursery school teacher told her that these were all the toys the kids had.
We wandered through the Huntville school in Block 10 — Mikey and Tommy both came running over to say hi when they saw us. Betty made them shake hands with each of the ladies. I heard someone whisper, “They don’t have desks. Not even a blackboard.” Another lady pressed her lips together and shook her head.
I took a sniff before we entered the dining hall. “You’re lucky! It’s not a sauerkraut day.” Most of the visitors picked at their lunches and I don’t blame them. Yuck — fatty roast beef with canned vegetables cooked to mush. I wasn’t sure if we’d been served green beans or peas. There was no butter for the rolls, no milk or sugar for the tea.
The ladies were awfully quiet as they left, ruined shoes and all.
I doubt anyone in town will think the Japanese are pampered after this.
Sunday, January 24, 1943
DeeDee —
After services today, that really swell English teacher, Miss Young, talked to a bunch of the kids about starting a glee club. I knew better than to volunteer. I’m so tone-deaf I got asked to leave the church choir in third grade! But Betty signed up and Jim, too.
Tuesday, January 26, 1942
DeeDee —
Pop had a meeting at the camp tonight so I stayed after school to listen to the first choir practice. Miss Young picked four of the boys to be in a Men’s Quartet. Jim’s one of them.
Betty and I think he has the nicest voice of the whole group.
Thursday, January 28, 1943
DeeDee —
There was a big buzz over at the high school today. At lunchtime, we found out why. The Army has announced that it’s organizing an all-volunteer Nisei combat unit. This one kid said he’d never sign up. “Let them fight their own wars,” he said. “They don’t care about me. I don’t care about them.” Some of the other guys agreed, but someone else said, “We’re American, too. This is our chance to prove it.” Boys can get so loud and rough when they argue. I was scared there’d be a fight but it was noise, that’s all.
Jim was real quiet during the whole to-do. I wondered how he felt about it, especially with his father in prison. Did he think America should fight its own wars? Or did he think he should join up to prove his loyalty? He isn’t a talker so there isn’t a way to know. One thing I do know: He’s eighteen. Old enough to enlist.
I could tell by Betty’s face that she was thinking about the very same thing.
Friday, January 29, 1943
DeeDee —
A bunch of kids put on some records in the social hall after school. Jim and Yosh started a competition for worst dancer, with both of them trying hard to win.
Betty and I hung off to the side, watching the high school kids act completely crazy. Someone grabbed her hand and she was gone, dancing, and before I knew it, I was, too.
When Betty and I crashed together on the dance floor a few turns later, we held one another and laughed so hard we couldn’t stand up.
I don’t know what made me think about it, but I looked around the room and noticed mine was the only Caucasian face in the crowd.
It was funny. Now I feel more at home than out of place.
Sunday, January 31, 1943
DeeDee —
After church today, Jim cornered Pop. I was too far away to listen in but I did see Betty watching them talk, chewing the fingernails on her right hand.
Jim was probably just asking about his dad.
Nothing for Betty to worry about.
Monday, February 1, 1943
DeeDee —
This time it’s for real. No more latrines! I never thought I’d be so excited about a sewage disposal plant! And real toilets. And it only took six months to get them working.
Tuesday, February 2, 1943
DeeDee —
I know an enemy like Admiral Shimada is the last person I should believe, but it’s still scary when I read headlines like the one in today’s newspaper: JAPANESE CLAIM 5 ALLIED WARSHIPS.
I’m going to paste in part of the article here.
On Jan. 29 at twilight a great enemy fleet consisting of large numbers of cruisers, battleships and destroyers was sighted west of Rennell Island by our planes, which carried out a surprise attack, sinking by direct hits one battleship and two cruisers while some more warships were damaged.
I looked on the globe. Rennell Island is about 150 miles south of Guadalcanal in the Solomons. And we think that’s about where Hank is.
The Office of War Information says that the Japanese reports have all “proved to be false or highly exaggerated.” But then they don’t say what really happened. I know they can’t because “loose lips might sink ships.”
I feel like an ant at a picnic sometimes, but instead of waiting for a crumb of pie to fall my way, I’m waiting for a crumb of news — good news—about Hank.
Friday, February 5, 1943
DeeDee —
Here is today’s headline: PACIFIC FRAYS GO ON, BUT NAVY WITHHOLDS ALL DETAILS AS POSSIBLE HELP TO ENEMY.
That pretty much says it all.
Saturday, February 6, 1943
DeeDee —
A letter from Hank! Reading it was a bit like reading something out of a time capsule; he had written it before the battle at Rennell Island. But getting it makes me feel like he has to be all right.
He says a couple of the pilots have taken him under their wings — “no pun intended,” he wrote. “These guys seem to think I might have what it takes to be a pilot, too. When I watch them release from the deck, I pretend I’m in that cockpit. I figure after maneuvering the old Blue Box around, I ought to be able to handle a fighter plane. Oh, well. It’s a nice dream.” He signed off with “Hey, sis, I’m feeling kind of homesick. Dens eoms eorm shotop!”
I hadn’t taken a picture since Christmas and then it was only because of the tree for Mikey and Tommy. The move and everything had taken too much out of me. I’d lost my love for the camera. But, for Hank, I’d get it back out. I started by taking photos of the Satos and Mrs. Harada, and then I asked Miss McCullough to take one of me and Pop. It felt good to be looking through the viewfinder again.
Sunday, February 7, 1943
DeeDee —
There’s a meeting tonight in Dining Hall 3. The Army’s sending someone to talk about volunteering for the all-Japanese unit. The 442nd Regimental Combat Team. Jim and Yosh were talking about it after church. “We should at least go,” Yosh said. “Hear the guy out.”
“No, don’t,” Betty said, tugging on Jim’s arm. “I don’t want you to.”
Jim gave her a hug. “Sis, going to a meeting doesn’t mean I’ll sign up.”
Betty pushed Jim away. “It better not. We can’t take one more thing. Not with Dad gone.”
Jim started to say something but Betty interrupted him. “I mean it.” Then she looked at me. “Piper, you talk some sense into him.”
&nb
sp; I had to say something, even though I knew it wouldn’t make any difference. Not if Jim had already made up his mind. I put my arm through Betty’s. “We’ve already got one brother between us in the fight,” I said. “We don’t need two.”
“That’s right.” Betty put her hands on her hips. Jim bowed low. “I will obey your commands, fair ladies.”
But I had a feeling he was only saying that to keep Betty happy.
Monday, February 8, 1943
DeeDee —
If I had known shoes were going to be rationed next, I would’ve bought a new pair of saddle shoes with my Christmas money!
Good thing my feet haven’t grown much lately.
Friday, February 12, 1943