May 14, 2024

Amache was the smallest of the ten concentration camps the US Government constructed to detain Japanese Americans during WWII. Yet with a peak population of more than 7,000, the prison was big enough that it ranked as the tenth largest city in Colorado during its brief existence. And as of February 15, 2024, it’s America’s newest national park. 

As survivors and descendants head to Amache this week for the annual pilgrimage, we take a look back at the site’s history as seen through the lens of photographer George Ochikubo. Native to Portland, Ochikubo arrived at Amache in 1943 — likely one of the 993 transfers from Tule Lake — and brought with him his 4×5 speed graphic camera.

A dusty street lined with barracks in Amache concentration camp.
Street view of barracks at Amache. August 29, 1944. Courtesy of the George Ochikubo Collection.

With a keen eye for capturing the natural world, Ochikubo’s collection includes numerous nature photos and many images that frame Amache and its incarcerees as being dwarfed by the environment that surrounded them. This was fitting because it was a natural environment that refused to be ignored. Located on the arid High Plains of Southeastern Colorado, the region was hot and dusty in the summer and subjected to freezing temperatures and snowstorms in the winter.

The camp hospital at Amache.
The camp hospital. Courtesy of the George Ochikubo Collection.

Dust filters into nearly every memory of life in the camps, but it seemed especially mean in Amache. Located on the western edge of the Dust Bowl region, the dust storms in Southeastern Colorado had, just a decade earlier, been powerful enough to suffocate, to blind, and to cause a menacing scourge known as dust pneumonia. Japanese American incarcerees arrived just a few years into soil conservation efforts that aimed to anchor the soil, but the slightest gust of wind could provoke unpleasant reminders that the environmental catastrophe was not yet completely over.

Clouds and dust swirl over barracks at Amache as a sandstorm approaches the camp.
An approaching sandstorm over Amache. Courtesy of the George Ochikubo Collection.

“When the wind blows we have a sand storm. It’s really bad. The sand sifts in from all over and if we’re caught outside in it we’re nearly blinded by the flying sand,” incarceree Henry Fujita wrote in an October 1942 letter.

An Amache concentration camp barrack iced over in the winter.
Barracks in winter. Courtesy of the George Ochikubo Collection.

Despite the challenging environmental conditions, the incarcerees transformed tired beet and melon fields that surrounded the camp into a high yield agricultural enterprise. In 1943 alone, they produced some 4 million pounds of vegetables, generating enough surplus that they were able to send produce to the other WRA camps as well as to the US Army.

Japanese American inmate worker holding bags of onions in a field at Amache.
Camp inmate harvesting onions. Courtesy of the George Ochikubo Collection.
Japanese Americans harvesting onions in a field near Amache.
Camp inmates harvesting onions in a field near Amache. Courtesy of the George Ochikubo Collection.

Incarcerees also transplanted fast-growing Siberian elm saplings from the Arkansas riverbed and planted them in neat rows alongside the barracks in order to serve as wind breaks and to provide some shade during the sweltering summers. Many of these trees are still standing at the site today and, along with some remaining barrack foundations, form a partial blueprint of the prison city that briefly existed there.

Aerial view of barracks at the Amache concentration camp.
An aerial view of Amache concentration camp showing inmate-planted saplings next to the barracks. Courtesy of the George Ochikubo Collection.

The town of Granada, Colorado and Amache were less than a mile apart and they became interdependent on one another in many ways. Incarcerees were permitted to pass into town to make purchases, resulting in an economic boon to the depressed region. But the relationship, as former incarceree Thomas Shigekuni put it, was “strained to say the least.” Amache’s new high school and false rumors of rich foods and a luxurious lifestyle behind the barbed wire, fueled the misguided idea that Japanese Americans were being coddled by the US Government.

Japanese Americans walking down the street in Granada, Colorado, a small town near the Amache concentration camp.
Japanese Americans visiting the nearby town of Granada, Colorado. Courtesy of the George Ochikubo Collection.

Amache was the only camp with its own silk screen shop and, over the course of its two-year run, it produced over 250,000 navy posters and countless prints, pamphlets, and other ephemera for the Japanese Americans confined in the camp. The pervasive dust presented a problem here too. The poorly constructed barracks offered little protection from the elements — for workers or wet posters — so the shop would have to shut down entirely during the frequent sandstorms.

Japanese American working on a project in the Amache silk screen shop.
Camp inmate working on a project in the Amache silk screen shop. Courtesy of the George Ochikubo Collection.
Four Japanese American workers at the Amache silk screen shop.
Workers at the silk screen shop. Courtesy of the George Ochikubo Collection.

As their indefinite detention wore on, incarcerees did their best to occupy their time and bring a sense of normalcy to their daily lives at Amache. They played sports and went to school, organized clubs and outings, and found ways to make art and beautify their environment, among many other things. But the barbed wire and guard towers that surrounded the camp served as stark reminders of their imprisonment.

Five Japanese American players on a basketball court during a game, while a large crowd watches from the sidelines.
A basketball game at Amache. Courtesy of the George Ochikubo Collection.
A group of Issei participating in an art class at Amache. Six participants are seated and standing in front of easels painting portraits of a live model sitting at the front of the class.
An Issei art class. Courtesy of the George Ochikubo Collection.
Japanese Americans on an outing from Amache concentration camp. A woman in the foreground is sitting on the ground smiling at the camera while another leans against a large tree trunk. Behind them are military vehicles.
Japanese Americans on an outing. George Ochikubo Collection.

Ochikubo didn’t shy away from showing these uglier parts of camp life. Although the guard tower is unoccupied in the photo below, many former incarcerees recalled the stark psychological impact that the occupied towers — and the watchful eyes of armed guards — had on them.

An empty guard tower at Amache concentration camp.
Guard tower. Courtesy of the George Ochikubo Collection.
A barbed wire fence in the snow at Amache concentration camp, with barracks in the background.
Barbed wire fence in the snow. Courtesy of the George Ochikubo Collection.

Despite the injustice of being wrongfully detained by their own government, Amache had the highest rate of volunteerism among the 10 WRA camps, with nearly 1,000 men and women serving in the war effort. Thirty-one of those servicemen and women were killed in action, and the image below captures one of the dust-blown funerals that ensued.

Memorial service for an Amache serviceman killed in action. Barracks are visible in the background and attendees are attempting to cover their faces as the wind blows sand over them.
Memorial service for an Amache serviceman killed in action. Courtesy of the George Ochikubo Collection.
Pallbearers carrying a coffin draped with an American flag at the memorial service of an Amache inmate killed in action.
Pallbearers carrying the coffin of an Amache serviceman killed in action. Courtesy of the George Ochikubo Collection.

A single self portrait of George Ochikubo is the only documentation we have of the man behind the camera. If anyone has more information about him, please reach out to info@densho.org

Self portrait of George Ochikubo holding his camera in Amache concentration camp.
Self portrait of George Ochikubo in Amache. Courtesy of the George Ochikubo Collection.

By Natasha Varner, Densho Communications and Public Engagement Director

Make a gift to Densho to support the Catalyst!

[Header: An approaching sandstorm over Amache. Courtesy of the George Ochikubo Collection.]