The elders, steeped in their native traditions, displayed few emotions. School-age youngsters romped and played among the piles of household good strewn in front of the control stations of the Wartime Civil Control Administration, 2020 and 1701 Van Ness-av.

College-age boys and girls and their slightly older friends and relatives, most of them American citizens, still laughed, wise-cracked in the latest slang, gave the scene the air of an outing.

By taxi, streetcar, truck, van and in the autos of Occidental friends, the Japanese arrived with their suitcases, trunks and bundles of household goods.

They reported to control officials, who checked them off, gave them identification tags. Late in the afternoon they boarded 10 buses, which took them to a special train.

Armed military police patrolled the sidewalk in front of the station, watched over personal properties, kept motorists and gawkers on the move.

As the buses rolled away friends remaining waved goodby, raised their thumbs in the air, made the victory V signal in final tribute. The younger Japanese responded, broad smiles on their faces; heads bobbed up and down in affirmation.