Enemy Camp (14 page)

He looked hard and fierce. I was seeing a different person. He was a Japanese soldier, alright. The other guard went ‘Easy, Tom' again, and put a hand on Ito's shoulder. ‘Come on.'

For a moment, I thought our
sensei
was going to fling his hand away. Then he turned, ignoring our guard, and strode off.

We made our way to the main gate and the waiting stores lorry, while our guard muttered to himself. As we chugged back into Featherston, the three of us and Barry's bike on the tray, Clarry said, ‘I thought he was going to stab him.'

Barry spoke, stuttered, took a deep breath. ‘He's a Jap, isn't he? D-Dad's right. He's a g-good bloke, but he's a Jap.'

I shrugged. I felt worn out suddenly. I just wanted to get home and lie down.

TUESDAY, 26 JANUARY Barry and Clarry went to the school pool. They said Margaret and Susan were there, and asked where I was. I'd wanted to go; I was well enough to go. But Mum said that was where I got sick, and I had to stay home one more day. So I hung around. I read a lot of
Huckleberry Finn
, which is a stupid book, and I was in a bad mood.

WEDNESDAY, 27 JANUARY OK,
Huckleberry Finn
isn't stupid. The boy, Huck, makes friends with the escaped Negro slave, who's called Jim. Most people feel that because Jim's black, he's hardly human. Some of the Yank soldiers here in New Zealand are like that, even though the Negroes are fighting alongside them.

It made me think about the Japs, too. They torture and starve some soldiers they capture. They also carve and do plays and poetry, and teach us. I suppose every country has lots of different people. Really intelligent thought, eh?

I talked to Dad about it this morning while he patched our shed roof. And I told him how Ito was a really good teacher, and a strict one.

‘He said to Bruce that you are hard-working pupils,' Dad said, and I felt pleased.

‘Dad?' I went then. ‘Why
did
the Japs declare war on us?'

Dad grunted. ‘Professors are going to write books about that one day, Ewen lad. From what I can make out, their Emperor and their generals want to set up a Japanese Empire, right across the Pacific. When Germany seemed to have our blokes on the back foot, the Japs decided it was a good time to get what they wanted. Now they're finding out how wrong they were.'

‘We'll win,' I went. ‘Won't we?'

Dad drove in another nail. ‘We will, son.' He stared into space for a moment. ‘But it's going to be hard, Ewen. The Jerries aren't finished yet. The Japs will fight to the end. I just pray it's over long before you—' He glanced at me. ‘Before too long.'

‘I like Ito.' I felt startled to hear myself say it, but it was true. Dad didn't reply. ‘Clarry and Barry and I want to go to Japan sometime after the war is over.'

Dad nodded. ‘Just keep anything like that to yourselves, OK, son? There's people around who wouldn't like hearing you talk like that.'

The afternoon was cloudy. Five days until we start school. After Mum had asked me six times if I could manage, I walked down to the grocer's to get some tobacco for Dad, and met Mrs Connell coming along the footpath.

I started to go ‘Hello, Mrs Con—'. She stared at me, went ‘Still visiting your evil little yellow friends, are you?' and walked on. My face felt hot all the rest of the way home.

A message from Ito: we are ordered to another lesson tomorrow.

THURSDAY, 28 JANUARY I don't know what to think about the things that happened today.

We three kids rode out to the camp about the middle of the morning — after Mum had asked me
seven
times if I was …

Barry towed Clarry all the way. I felt tired, but I managed. Clarry nattered away about how he can't wait for school to start next week. Barry and I told him he's a raving loony.

We reached the barrier by the camp road. A guard checked his list, said, ‘OK, lads; wait by the main gates,' and we started off, Clarry walking carefully but steadily without his leg braces.

A yell from the military compound. A high, wild yell: a howl, almost. We stopped and stared.

A figure in blue stood gripping the barbed wire of the inside fence, about fifty feet from us, jerking his head up and down. He wore a red scarf around his head.

No. Barry gasped; Clarry cried out. The man was clutching the jagged barbs, squeezing them between his hands, plunging his head against another spike in between. The red scarf was in fact a stream of blood, and more blood was pouring down his face. He howled again.

A guard began running towards him. ‘Let go, you idiot! Stop!' The prisoner took no notice, plunged his face into the barb again, wrenched it from side to side.

A second guard sprinted towards the howling man. The first grabbed him by the shoulders, yanked him backwards while he clung to the wire. The second guard
skidded to a halt, rifle raised, aiming at the prisoner as the first guard wrestled him to the ground.

Voices yelled from all sides. More guards came running. Prisoners had appeared everywhere. Many of them were shouting, too. Shouting and punching the air with their fists. What was happening?

The bleeding figure squirmed on the ground while two guards knelt on him. Others tried to push away the growing, chanting crowd of blue-clad figures. They shoved back, and I saw one guard stagger.

The barrier guard was calling to us. ‘Come here, you three!'

A different man in blue strode towards the jostling mass of guards and prisoners. The other Jap officer. His men fell silent, bowed, stood at attention. He ignored the guards and barked words at the Nips. They bowed again, began moving away. More guards rushed towards the scene, rifles and bayonets ready.

‘Come here!' The three of us retreated towards the barrier, still staring. The injured prisoner was being pulled to his feet, blood all over him. Guards hustled him away.

‘Wait,' the barrier guard ordered. The prisoners were now sitting in rows, just like we had seen them before. A ring of guards surrounded them.

After a while, the guard's telephone rang. He muttered into it.

More waiting. Then a figure in khaki uniform strode briskly towards us. An officer, with three pips on each shoulder tab. He returned the guard's salute, spoke briefly to him, then came over to us kids.

‘I'm Captain Ashton.' I recognised the interpreter's name. ‘There will be no lessons for you today, I'm afraid.' He gazed at us. ‘You're good blokes, coming out here the way you do, but you can see we've got a problem just now. Best be on your way.'

We rode home, trying to make sense of what had happened.

Dad wasn't back by the time I went to bed. I read a lot of
Huckleberry Finn.
Huck and Jim the Negro seem to be heading for freedom, but you can feel something bad is building up.

I feel like something is building up at the camp, too.

(Big news! I'm going on a railway engine tomorrow! Mr Morris is driving a goods train to Wellington. He says we can all come along.)

FRIDAY, 29 JANUARY I told Dad about the prisoner and the barbed wire. ‘They're trying to sort it out' was all he said.

I didn't think about it much during the day. I'm not being silly; there was just so much else happening — I went on the goods train to Wellington!

The train stood hissing and snorting at the platform: a long line of wagons filled with vegetables, meat and timber. There were two big engines to start hauling it up the Rimutakas. Mr Morris, in his railway overalls and cap, called to us from the front one.

We rumbled out, through farmland with stupid sheep galloping away in the paddocks, up towards the hills. Mr Morris checked dials and gauges, blasted the whistle when he saw a goat on the line ahead. His fireman shovelled coal into the blazing firebox, grinned at us, white teeth shining from his soot-streaked face. Black smoke poured behind us.

At Cross Creek Station, three small engines were linked onto the train. ‘Fell engines,' Mr Morris told us. ‘Special sideways wheels in the middle. They grip a centre line; help pull us up.'

The line snaked around bends, through tunnels, climbing all the time. The engines thundered and shook. We passed burned patches of bush where sparks from the engine had started fires. The wind blew through our hair. Bits of grit blew into our faces. It was so noisy we could hardly hear anyone speak.

We ground our way up to the Rimutaka summit and its little station. The shingle road appeared beside us. A car had stopped to fill its boiling radiator with water.

Then we were off again, grinding down the far side, picking up speed through the Hutt Valley. A big
army camp went by, soldiers marching across a parade ground. Wellington Harbour glittered in the sun. I'm going to write stories about this someday.

Wellington Railway Station was enormous. The huge statue of Kupe the Maori explorer. People in uniforms and civilian clothes hurrying in all directions.

‘Hey, li'l buddy, how you doin'?' A group of American soldiers, kitbags over their shoulders, were moving past us. A Negro face beamed down at Clarry. ‘Gettin' around OK?'

If
we
ask Clarry that, he snaps our heads off. But he just went, ‘Yeah, I'm OK. Where are you blokes from?'

‘Alabama,' the Negro soldier told him. ‘Best state in the USA.' Beside him, a white soldier laughed. ‘Don't believe him, kid. I'm from Texas, the
really
best state.'

‘Are you going to fight the Japs?' Clarry asks questions nobody else would dare to.

The Yanks just smiled. ‘Well now, we'd better keep that private,' the white soldier said. ‘Y'all take care now, boys. Here, have some gum.' He dropped a packet into each of our quickly-held-out hands.

‘G-Good luck,' Barry said. The Americans — they were all so young — grinned again, and moved on. I wondered whether they'd ever see New Zealand, or Alabama and Texas, again.

We chewed our gum while we wandered along a few streets. Trams clanged past. A policeman in his tall blue
helmet stood at one intersection, directing traffic.

After a while, we went back to the station, and the staff lunchroom. Mr Morris shouted us all a huge sandwich with cheese and cold meat. ‘We'll head off in half an hour, soon as we've coaled up.'

We watched Hutt Valley speed past, then the bush crawl past as we ground up to the summit again. It felt good, seeing all this with my best friend. I suddenly wished
everyone
could be friends: the Japs and us and other countries.

SATURDAY, 30 JANUARY A brilliant blue sky. That always happens at the end of the holidays!

We had another Japanese lesson. No problems at the barrier or gate this time. A ring of prisoners inside the military compound was just breaking up; looked like they'd been wrestling again. The same older guard, the friendly one, led us towards the hut.

‘Your boss might be late. Think he's got a few things on his mind.'

But Ito arrived only five minutes after, and if he was busy or worried about anything he didn't show it. We went straight into the lesson.

He told us about Boys' Day. It happens near the start of May. Families who have boys fly a big flag shaped like
a fish, which is supposed to bring long life. Inside their houses, they have displays of dolls in warrior costumes.

There's also a Girls' Day in March, but we weren't very interested in that. The Boys' Day sounded good; we had words about clothes and being brave to learn and repeat. I thought Ito might say something about his son, but he didn't.

‘One question only today,' our
sensei
said at the end. ‘I am busy.' A hand was already up. ‘Yes, Crarry?'

Clarry stood. Like I say, his questions often make me feel nervous. Sure enough, this time he asked: ‘
Sensei
, what will you do when you get home? To Japan, I mean.'

Ito stared straight past him for a second. Then he said: ‘I am dead.'

We three gaped. I heard the guard shift in his seat.

‘For us, to be a prisoner is to be a dead person,' Ito went on. ‘In Japan, there have been funerals for us. We are not live person any more.' He gave the tiniest of shrugs. ‘We do not know what we find if we return.'

‘That's tough, pal.' It was the guard speaking. ‘Don't you think—' But Ito was already moving towards the door.

We didn't say much about it as we rode home. ‘It's n-not fair,' Barry said once. No, it isn't, I thought. Just like a lot of other things about the war.

School baths after lunch. The primer teacher and Mr White were there, chatting away to each other. Barry
asked, ‘Sir? D-Do you know who'll be our teacher this year?'

Mr White smiled. ‘I can't say for sure, boys, but I hope you won't be too disconcerted.'

It didn't sound a good word. Barry asked us afterwards, ‘Do you think he m-means' (deep breath) ‘Miss Mutter?'

Aw, no, I thought. Please, no! And yet … yet she's been really good to Barry.

I mucked about in the water with Terry and Anzac. Moana's Yank boyfriend has left for overseas. She's really upset.

Finally, I saw Susan and Margaret arriving. Yeah, I'd been looking for them. So what? Somehow we ended up talking again, while Anzac and Terry grinned stupid grins at us, and Clarry did more showing off. He pushed another kid in while they were play-fighting, and stood there, looking so pleased with himself while he wobbled around.

Susan asked about our lessons. ‘When she lived in Japan, Mum went to talks on flower-arranging, given by an army general! She loved living there, but you can't say that now.'

Since it's the last weekend of the holidays (doom!), we went to the pictures. It was
The Maltese Falcon
, about this detective searching for an ancient gold statue. Pretty good.

The blackout isn't officially over, but the doors of the town hall were wide open, spilling light into the street, and no warden came along, yelling ‘Put that light out!' Nobody worries about Jap invasions now.