My mother lived in Holland, and during World War II was incarcerated in a Japanese camp for three years.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I was a senior high school student at the Far Eastern University when the war with Japan broke out in 1941.
I remember the people I knew in prison; I was very fortunate to know them - they came from 1910, 1920, 1930.
I was in the U.S. about 15 years. Especially in New York. And then I came back to Japan.
My mother had a son from previous marriage and her husband died in Second World War.
My father was a military judge, and my mother was a psychiatric social worker. My brother and sister and I were moved around constantly, in and outside the U.S., living in Germany for much of our teens.
In March 1943, my parents, four-year-old sister and I were interned with other foreign civilians at Lunghua camp, a former teacher training college outside Shanghai, where we remained until the end of August 1945.
My father is 100% Japanese and came to the United States when he was only 18 years old. My grandmother still resides in Japan, which has allowed me to travel to the roots of my ancestors with my father.
My childhood memories include a time when the government confiscated my family's possessions and exiled us to a camp in the B.C. Interior, just because my grandparents were from Japan.
I was six months old at the time that I was taken, with my mother and father, from Sacramento, California, and placed in internment camps in the United States.
My father was a Japanese prisoner of war, a survivor of the Thai-Burma Death Railway, built by a quarter of a million slave labourers in 1943. Between 100,000 and 200,000 died.