The old Southern Pacific Train Depot in San Jose, California.

Today it's a busy commuter rail station, Cal train and Amtrak, thousands of commuters every day.

Imagine this same spot in the early morning hours of May 29, 1942. There are hundreds of

families from San Jose standing here uneasily. They're not sure what to expect. They've been

ordered to report here at the train station, to line up here, so the U.S.

government can load them onto trains.

Among them is a rowdy, happy, very high-spirited, 10-year-old boy named Norman.

For a 10-11-year-old kid, this was, oh boy, an overnight train ride, a long train ride.

Norman's in the fifth grade. He's born and raised in San Jose. It's the only place he's ever

lived. This Friday morning, when he and his family report to the train station, it feels to him

almost like an adventure.

There was some excitement about getting on a train and going somewhere, and it's like

you've never been on a train before.

That's Norman's son, David, who now himself lives in San Jose.

Despite dad talking about it as an adventure, I got to believe that he was picking up on the anxiety

and the fear from his sisters, his brother, and his parents.

In the weeks leading up to this day,

Norman's parents had been forced to sell off

basically everything they owned, nearly all the family's possessions.

They had to give away their dog.

There was a lot of stuff they had to get rid of.

One was a car that they had sort of bought fairly recently,

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