Dec. 25, 1943

Like spiders crawling in every direction from the center of a web, all of the 450 internees were coming from the bodega with carts, sacks, poles, ropes—anything that would help carry forty-seven pounds or more [for the Red Cross packages]. If only the people at home could have seen it! Morale soared so high that people went out of reach—“exceeded grasp.” Before Jerry even knew the line had started, Bede had been down and carried his own case of forty-seven pounds, stopping only three times to rest between the bodega at the foot of the road and our space, where he deposited it. Dr. Shafer and others carried stretchers loaded with cases. Sacks, poles, wheelbarrows large and small, Christmas carts on wheels precarious for such weight—everyone smiling and sprinting back for the next one or to help others who had no strong arm. As fast as men put them from the bodega onto the counter out front, they were checked off as each was trundled away joyously. One man sat right down in the bodega and opened his box, stuck a cigarette in his face, took a slice of cheese in one hand, a slice of Spam in the other, then came striding up the hill with the heavy box on his shoulder, his mouth busy three ways and a wide grin besides puffs and chews.

Then the fun began. Fathers joined families and all commingling rules were off as cases were shunted about, opened and spread out in piles, stacks, and rows. Counting and sorting occupied the next forty-eight hours. Inventory was taken as each can and box was lovingly handled, felt, and gazed upon, exclaimed over. Exhilaration is not the word!

The box breathed American efficiency, even to the little brown envelopes with can openers. Nothing was forgotten, and the contents were concentrated essence of all we lacked for two years, all we need for now and perhaps three months to come. The care, thought, research, long development and planning that went into it oozed out of every corner. We could imagine every soldier and civilian prisoner in every occupied country opening one just as we were, singing with relief and bounding spirits. Each can is a meal in itself, perfectly balanced. Pride in America stretched out as we realized it was covering the world. No longer are we haunted by fear of famine. The cases stand for Security.

Sept. 25, 1943

There were five or six parties, one of about fifty guests for a husband’s birthday. A guard with his nose pressed against the wire watched the party all evening and wanted to know what we were celebrating. Carl had a party in the ironing room with games and much glee behind a rug curtain. The sergeant went in and sat in a corner, watching the whole time. When Hayakawa [the camp commandant] is away, the guards will play.

One went in to visit with Ray, was given a piece of cake, and seemed rather hopeless. He said he left his wife expecting a baby, with three children already, in Japan. All his money goes to her, he has none for extras. If he is taken prisoner, his family will get no money at all. If he deserts, they get no money. If he deserts but kills himself before captured, his wife gets pay. In Bataan the Japanese soldiers who had been taken prisoners by the Americans were shot in front of their comrades’ eyes when they were recaptured after the surrender of Bataan by the Americans. So there is no way out for them except death. They must die fighting, and if defeat comes, all must die.

July 3, 1943

While Jerry took a long sleep, I went to the handicraft exhibit until he joined me. It is unique. It combined county fair, arts and crafts, shop and garden and artistry, showing the things people can do with little to work with but a mind, some patience, and plenty of time. The enemy should have seen this display before writing an article on American love of luxury, idleness, and softness. At the door, outside, was a handsome white rooster with a red and blue ribbon tied to his leg. He was raised from a Camp Holmes egg, inside the barbed wire, by O’Dowd, Jake, and Bea, who are proud of it. The guard gazed with much amusement at the ribbons on the leg.

Among the items were: baby bedspreads with the names of all the camp-born babies embroidered on them; an egg cup carved as thin as china or a shell from wood by Dr. Skerl; Dick Patterson’s dirigible with tiny motors; lipstick made of beeswax from native honey and a dye; handmade dresses with handmade cocorut or stone buttons; tools—bow, saw, needles (from fence wire), wooden drills of bamboo, a handsome Swedish-style pocketknife with fine beveled edge and beautifully wrought handle by Lerberg (it is composed of an airplane strut, carabao horn, ramrod, copper wire, sewer pipe, and pouch fastener); a soup-bone crochet hook for his wife by Palmer, and the braided rug made with it by his wife; food covers from gauze taken off the back of adhesive tape; the prize aluminum false teeth by Fabian, with assistance from the dentist. Jim Thompson’s totem pole, hand carved, was there with his explanatory remarks— “Very rare totem pole, found in ruins of Camp Holmes, date about A.D. 1943. Believed to have been used by prehistoric totem cult; top figure is thought to represent the lamentations of the cult for their squareheadedness for getting in such a mess; the central figure symbolizing their national sickness (pigheadedness); the bottom figure represents the ultimate condition of these people—the rice belly.”

May 7, 1943

Jerry is still chuckling over an episode in the shop. He was sharpening his small knife on the small whetstone when he was sudden confronted with a long blade headed into his stomach and held by an Oriental hand. He looked up, into the smiling face of a guard who was proudly comparing the size of his knife with Jerry’s. Later, Jerry saw the same soldier turning the grindstone for Jim Bozeman to sharpen his murderous-looking knife! In a short while, he looked again at the same picture reversed—Jim turning the grindstone while the soldier sharpened his long blade with a bone handle. We laughed as we recalled how they took nail scissors, nail files, everything sharp or pointed from us that first, long night.

Feb. 1, 1943

Jerry made a Parmesan-cheese omelette with the things from [outside] and four eggs, with rice flour to give it body. A taste of cheese after thirteen months—it is the one thing everyone craves! When we get out we want a huge kitchen where we can sit and eat, a beautiful bathroom, two bedrooms, and a small library, and that’s all! We make plans to enlarge our home kitchen, spreading it all over the place. June is obsessed with it and Peg laughs at all of us.