by Hill, David
Again, I felt proud that he talked to me like this. I wondered what Ito would say to his son when he got back home.
MONDAY, 8 FEBRUARY ‘Mum says it’s good you’re still doing the lessons at camp,’ Susan said at lunchtime. ‘She’s teaching me some, too.’ She looked at her shoes. ‘We could all practise together sometime.’ I bet she wants to see if she’s better than me, I thought.
On the way home, Clarry told us that one of Mrs Sutcliffe’s kids is in his class. ‘And Miss Mutter tells her off more than anyone else!’
A couple of Yank jeeps went past the end of the road. I saw the big white stars on their sides. Maybe they were heading out to the camp.
I cut kindling wood, and picked peas for dinner. Dad wasn’t due home until late, so after we had eaten I read more Treasure Island. I’m up to the part where Jim and the other blokes attack the pirates.
Mum’s voice called out. ‘Oh, Ewen! Come and look!’ I hurried through to the front doorway, where she stood. The streetlights were all on. Our road was lit up at night for the first time in nearly two years. The blackout must be over.
Neighbours were on the footpath, laughing and talking. Mum hugged me, said ‘Not long now, love’, and I knew what she meant. I couldn’t wait for Dad to see.
I was in bed when I heard him putting his bike away. I jumped up and headed down the hall. The front door opened, and straightaway Mum went, ‘Jack, what’s wrong?’
My father stood in the kitchen, in his khaki guard’s uniform. Lemon-squeezer hat still on. His face was pale and sunken. He put his arms around my mother for a moment, then took a breath.
‘You’d better know. It’ll be all over the town by morning, anyway. Two of the Nips have killed themselves.’
TUESDAY, 9 FEBRUARY It was after the Yanks had been: the ones we’d seen in their jeeps, I suppose.
The guards had got the prisoners together, all six hundred of them, civilians and military, sitting in their separate compounds facing the barbed-wire fences that divided them. The Yanks stood in the middle, and one of their officers told the Nips through Captain Ashton how any information they could give about defences on the Pacific islands would help shorten the war and save lives. ‘You won’t be traitors. This will keep your friends alive. Japan cannot win this war. You must accept that.’
The Japs just looked straight ahead, like the other time. The Yanks tried speaking to Ito and the other officers, but they didn’t say a word either.
After the Americans left, Colonel Wallace told the Nips that he was disappointed at their attitude, and sent them back to their huts. When it was time for the roll-call at dinner, two navy men were missing. The guards went to look, and they found — my father stopped, looked at Mum and me, then went on — they found the two men hanging from the rafters inside their huts.
‘The others must have known,’ Dad said. His face still looked sunken. ‘Christ, they must have been there when it happened!’
Mum reached across the table and took his hands.
Ito’s words were beating in my head. ‘Never fear death.’ And ‘I am dead.’
Dad spoke. ‘A few of our blokes’ — he glanced at me again — ‘they’re saying “Well, that’s two less of the little sods.”’ He drew a hand over his face. ‘And then the colonel goes and tells the Nips that if there are any more “episodes” like this, he’ll punish all of them. I dunno.’
He rubbed his face once more, then yawned. ‘Straight to bed for you,’ Mum said, and it took a second until I realised she didn’t mean me.
But my father hadn’t finished. ‘There are some forks missing.’ I didn’t understand at first, then I realised. Weapons.
‘Nobody knows if they might use them on us or on themselves. The colonel has ordered checks on the huts every couple of hours.’
As Dad kept talking, Mum looked at me, opened her mouth to send me to my room, then came and stood with an arm around me instead. Ito is there, though, I was thinking. He’ll make people listen. Won’t he?
Dad was right. Everyone in town seemed to know about the suicides. ‘M-Mum’s upset,’ Barry said on the way to school. ‘She says they will have families b-back home. Dad reckons they had it c-coming to them.’ We rode on in silence.
It was at lunchtime that the trouble came. Barry and I had been talking to Margaret and Susan, then we headed for the boys’ sports area to play cricket.
When the voice started yelling, we knew instantly it was Clarry. We broke into a run, came around the corner, and saw other blokes staring at where he was facing up to Anzac Patu. They were both shouting at each other. ‘They’re not just Nips!’ ‘They’ve murdered our blokes!’ ‘Ito is great.’ ‘Jap-lover!’
Clarry threw himself forward and tried to shove Anzac. It was a bit like a mouse trying to shove a sheep-dog; Anzac hardly moved. Clarry lunged at him again. Anzac lifted his hands to keep him off, and Clarry went sprawling on his face.
He fell heavily, crying out as he hit the ground. All the wind was driven out of him. He lay there, not moving. Anzac looked shocked. ‘I didn’t mean— You OK?’
Barry was already kneeling beside his smaller brother. ‘What are you doing? Haven’t you any b-brains?’ His speech is so much better, I thought stupidly.
Clarry tried to sit up. His face twisted, and he slumped back.
‘I didn’t mean anything,’ Anzac said again. ‘It’s just Moana’s boyfriend …’
Barry nodded. ‘I know. He’s a stupid k-kid.’
Clarry had managed to sit, but he still looked pale and shaky. ‘Don’t— Don’t tell Mum,’ he gasped. Barry was silent.
By the end of lunchtime, Clarry said he was OK, but he held onto the wall as he walked. On the way home he said, ‘I’ve got a headache,’ then was silent.
I finished Treasure Island, but I wasn’t really paying attention. Things seem to be going wrong suddenly. It feels like something scary is waiting.
Dad came home late again. I heard him murmuring to Mum, then his feet came quietly down the hall. ‘You awake, Ewen?’
I murmured something.
‘Ito says the play will be on this Saturday. You are ordered to come.’ He half-chuckled, and I felt better. ‘Quiet day at camp, son. Everyone’s a bit shocked, I reckon. Let’s hope it makes them see sense.’
Yeah, I thought when he’d gone, and felt better still. There are lots of sensible people; they’ll sort things out.
WEDNESDAY, 10 FEBRUARY Clarry was quiet on the way to school. When we arrived, Anzac was waiting. He looked embarrassed, but he came straight over and spoke to Clarry.
‘Sorry about yesterday. It’s just— Moana says if anything happens to her boyfriend, she’ll always hate the Japs. Mum and Dad are worried about her. I didn’t mean to hurt you or anything.’
Clarry shrugged. ‘It’s OK. I started it.’
They both stared at the ground, then Anzac asked, ‘You want to play cricket? You can bat.’
Clarry’s face lit up. ‘Yeah! Thanks.’ They headed off together, still looking like a mouse beside a sheep-dog.
As we left school a lorry rumbled past, coils of barbed wire on the back. Two Home Guard blokes waved.
‘D-Dad says they’re taking down the wire from Palliser Bay,’ Barry said. ‘It’s g-going overseas. They’re not worried about an invasion now.’
Like the blackout ending, I thought. The war will be over this year, I bet.
Dad was home when I arrived, and looking happier, too. Yeah, the Jap military prisoners had felt insulted by the Yanks asking for information. Some of them wanted to attack the guards afterwards, charge at the barbed wire. Their officers and sergeants talked them out of it. But two of them still felt so angry and ashamed … ‘Well, you know what happened, son.’
I nodded.
‘Their officers have asked for the working parties to be cut back. They still say it’s too much like helping us fight the war. They reckon if we agree, it will help calm their blokes down. The colonel has said he’ll think about it. Hope
he does. It’s been hard on everybody.’
THURSDAY, 11 FEBRUARY The news this morning says the Yanks have captured an island called Guadalcanal from the Japs. That’s good, too. So I went off to school feeling OK. That soon changed.
Clarry was still a bit quiet. We had assembly, marched into class, and started work. We had Maths and Spelling: ‘separate … desperate’ — I always get them wrong.
Then there was a knock at the door, and a Standard Four girl came in. ‘Please, Mr White, Miss Mutter wants to see Barry Morris straightaway.’
Barry looked nervous. Who wouldn’t! He was gone just a couple of minutes, and when he appeared again, we all stared. His face was white, and his mouth trembled. He spoke, and his stammer was awful.
‘P-Please, sir. C-C-Clarry’s really sick. I’ve g-got to t-take him home. C-C-Can Ewen help me?’
Clarry’s polio had come back. I felt sick in my own stomach.
Mr White was amazing. ‘Go now, Ewen.’ As I headed out the door after Barry, I heard him saying: ‘Room Six, you may read to yourselves. Remain quiet while I am gone.’
He joined me in the sick-bay. Clarry was lying on his side, hunched and whimpering. He had spewed up in a bowl beside the bed. Miss Mutter sat beside him, murmuring, ‘Try to resht, Clarensh. Shtay calm.’ I saw her face, realised she was frightened, too, and my stomach lurched again.
Mr White spoke quietly to her, and went away. He was back in another minute. ‘I have the headmaster’s car. We’re taking Clarry to the doctor. Both you boys come with me.’
I hadn’t ridden in a proper car for ages, but I hardly noticed. Barry sat in the back, more white-faced than ever. Clarry sprawled beside him, still moaning. Our teacher drove fast to Dr Waterstone’s surgery, tooting the horn at every corner. We arrived with a screech, our teacher flung open the back door, and Barry stumbled out. He went down on hands and knees, and was sick in the gutter. Oh, no. Not him, too!
I was shivering with fright. As Dr Waterstone hurried down the path, Mr White said, ‘I’m going to fetch Mrs Morris. Remain here, Ewen.’
The car shot off. Doctor Waterstone and his nurse were carrying Clarry inside. I helped Barry to his feet, both of us shaking and shuddering, and we followed the others.
The doctor charged straight through a waiting room with four startled people in it, and into another room with a bed. He laid Clarry down, and turned to Barry. One look, and he grabbed a tin basin from the bench. My friend was sick in that, too.
‘Wait outside, lad,’ he told me. I stumbled back into the waiting room. Just a couple of minutes later, car doors slammed outside, and Mrs Morris came running in, Mr White behind her. Her eyes stared, her hair was a mess. She looked terrified.
The nurse stopped her, held her by one arm for a minute, then led her into the back room. I stayed slumped in my chair. It couldn’t be happening. Not both of them. Not my best friend and his brother with polio.
Mr White sat down beside me. He put a hand on my shoulder and began talking to me, quietly and calmly. The doctor knew what to do. The boys were being looked after. What was I reading now? After five minutes, I realised I was talking about Treasure Island, while the rest of the waiting room listened.
It was maybe half an hour until the door to the back room opened. Mrs Morris came out, and my stomach clenched again. She was crying.
She hugged me. ‘They’re alright, Ewen. They’re alright. Doctor Waterstone says it’s almost certainly something we ate. Harry and I were feeling off-colour this morning, too. Oh, Ewen, they’re alright!’
She turned to Mr White, and for a crazy moment I thought she might hug him, too. He took her hand, and said, ‘I am so relieved, Mrs Morris. They are both excellent young fellows.’
He drove the three Morrises home. I walked back to school and found Mrs Sutcliffe reading to Room Six. She stopped, and I said, ‘Excuse me, Mrs Sutcliffe. Clarry’s alright. He and Barry just ate something that made them sick.’
I rode home after school and found that Mum already knew. Mrs Morris had hurried over to say that both boys were asleep but feeling better. I walked back to school, got Barry’s bike with the trolley, and rode it to their place, trying to imagine what it would have been like if I’d suddenly learned that my two friends would never be with me again.
FRIDAY, 12 FEBRUARY Nothing.
SATURDAY, 13 FEBRUARY I biked out to the camp. It felt strange, having nobody to talk to — except myself, and you might get locked up if you do that.
Barry and Clarry were at home. They had Friday off school, the lucky … people. I went around to see them before I headed for the camp, and they were both in a dirty mood because they reckoned they were well enough to come with me.
Dad’s friend Bruce led me into the camp. ‘You lads really are doing a good job coming here.’
He didn’t take me to the usual hut, but to a bigger one a couple of buildings away. After a minute, Ito came in, with the other officer I’d seen around the camp, and half a dozen more Japs behind. NCOs or something, I guessed. Armed guards filed in as well.
The other officer looked hard at me. I bowed to Ito, and then I bowed to him. It just seemed the right thing to do. He looked a bit friendlier, and nodded.
‘Where are the two?’ Ito looked annoyed.
‘They have been sick,’ I told him.
He watched me. ‘The same sick?’ he asked. I must have looked blank, because he added: ‘The leg sick?’
‘No. Crook-guts sick.’ Now he looked blank. I held my stomach and pretended to spew up. The Japs stared. The guards grinned.
Ito nodded, then turned to the nearest guard, a bloke with two corporal’s stripes. ‘You do not need.’ He pointed to the rifles and bayonets. ‘We have given our word of honour.’
The corporal shrugged. ‘Colonel’s orders, chum.’ Ito said something, and the other Nip officer glared.
The door opened again. Captain Ashton and Colonel Wallace entered. Captain Ashton nodded to me; Colonel Wallace ignored me. More New Zealand officers came in; the place was getting crowded.
The two Jap officers waited until ours were seated, then sat also. Their NCOs stayed standing. A pause, then five Nips glided into the room. They wore long black robes, and they all had a white cloth band around their foreheads. They faced us, bowed very low, and the play began.
There were slow, flowing movements, times when everyone was as still as statues, sudden sweeps across the room. I don’t know what the story was about, but you could tell that there was sadness, and then happiness at the end. I watched and tried to remember everything.
I watched the audience, too. Ito sat absolutely straight on his chair. His face was calm, almost dreamy. The other Japs were the same, eyes focused but faraway.
The New Zealand officers and guards looked puzzled at first; then I could see them being drawn in as the robed figures moved and bent. Here were these people who had been killing one another, in a room where rifles and bayonets were ready to kill again, and they were all sitting there, caught up in a story.
There was a moment’s stillness when it ended. Then Captain Ashton began to clap, and the other New Zealanders followed, Colonel Wallace last. The actors bowed, first to their own officers, then to ours. The Japs didn’t smile, but they nodded to one another.
Colonel Wallace didn’t stay, but Captain Ashton did. He spoke in Japanese to the enemy officers, who nodded once again, then to the actors, who bowed a second time. They still didn’t smile, but you could tell they were pleased by what he said.
I began following the others out. A voice said, ‘Oon?’ Our sensei. ‘You will tell the mother and father,’ he went. ‘Yours. Barry and Crarry’s. You will tell them a son is dear. Is precious. You will be good men.’ He walked out, the guards following him.
I couldn’t wait to tell Barry and Clarry that they were precious. It was strange, though. Ito had spoken as though he wasn’t sure whether he would be seeing us again. We would be coming for more lessons, surely? Yeah, it was strange.
I told Mrs Morris what Ito had said about sons being dear and precious. (I told my parents last night: Mum went ‘How can someone like that be an enemy!’ Dad went ‘You’re dear alright, son. You’ve cost us a few bob!’ and ruffled my hair.) Mrs Morris looked thrilled to bits. We played Sink the German Navy; Barry and I kept going ‘Your turn, precious Clarry’, until he threatened to whack us.
I was walking home when I saw Mrs Sutcliffe crossing the end of the street, with her two kids. And with Miss Mutter. On their way to church, I supposed.
They didn’t see me. Miss Mutter was talking to the smaller kid. Probably telling it ‘Shtand shtraight. Be shenshible.’ As I watched, something happened to her face. She’s having a fit, I thought. Then I realised: she was smiling.
I read all afternoon. It’s part of being an author, I reckon. I have a book that Bruce thought I might like, called We Didn’t Mean to Go to Sea, about kids in England who are keen on sailing, and look after a yacht that accidentally drifts away. Pretty good.
The BBC News says the British and Yank bombers are destroying lots of Nazi factories. That’s pretty good, too.
I lay in bed, thinking about yesterday’s play, and what Ito had said. I guess he hopes it won’t be long until the war is over and he sees his own son again. That’s … That’s very good.
MONDAY, 15 FEBRUARY Clarry was still complaining about missing the Noh play. To shut him up, I told him and Barry about seeing Miss Mutter smiling yesterday.
‘You sure she wasn’t snarling?’ Clarry asked.
At morning playtime, Susan came up to me. ‘Mum wonders if you want to come to our place for some extra Japanese lessons. She said Lieutenant Ito and the others might be pleased to think you were really serious about it; it would show respect for Japanese ways. Barry, too, of course. Oh, and Margaret wants to come, don’t you, Margaret? This Saturday, maybe?’
Margaret and Barry were listening. When I glanced at them, they had both turned pink.