In December 1941, the quiet of an ordinary Sunday morning in Hawai‘i was shattered by the roar of Japanese warplanes. Within two hours, Pearl Harbor burned, 2,403 Americans were dead, and the United States was at war. Fear arrived faster than reason. Across the country, news headlines screamed of betrayal, and whispers in grocery stores and churches turned neighbors into suspects. In a single week, Japanese faces--no matter how American their lives--became symbols of national