In some strange way they both had known, him and the soldier on the hill.
The soldier had known there was no other escape for him now. He’d seen the storm coming and he’d been waiting here on the crest of the hill.
Joey looked out at the trees below. Blue trees just turning green as the light above grew stronger, the maidenhair unfolding thin new tendrils in the damp. The snaking creek, the straggly quiet town, the orange road, its dust at rest — at least for the moment.
Had the soldier found it alien even at the end? Had his eyes been closed when the lightning struck, as he dreamt of another land? Or were they open? Had the soldier finally seen its beauty too …
Joey hoped he had.
The ground beneath the horse tree was shale and clay and shattered rocks. Perhaps they should have dragged him down to softer soil, thought Joey. But no. The soldier had come too far already. He deserved to rest where he had died.
‘Do you think it’s deep enough?’ asked Myrtle. Her face was flushed.
‘I think,’ said Joey.
The soldier wasn’t heavy. Grown-ups should be heavy, thought Joey. Maybe death had made him lighter.
It took less time to fill the grave than to dig it.
Had he known they’d do this final service for him? Of course, thought Joey. They had been friends.
‘Should we say something?’ asked Myrtle at last.
‘I dunno — they’re not Christian are they, the Japanese?’
‘No,’ said Myrtle. ‘But … I don’t suppose it really matters. What do people say at funerals?’
‘I don’t know. Dad …’ They’d had a memorial service for Dad, not a proper funeral. But it still hurt too much to mention it. ‘I don’t know,’ said Joey again.
‘How about the Lord’s Prayer? We have to say something,’ said Myrtle, a little desperately.
Joey nodded.
‘Our Father, which art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name …’ The breeze took their voices and played with them and tossed them back. ‘… on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day …’
Clouds and currawongs, blue sky and the singing of the trees.
‘… the power and the glory, forever and ever, Amen.’
‘Rest in peace,’ said Joey to the soldier.
He looked down at the grave. Anyone passing would know it was a grave, he thought, long, and freshly dug. But the rain would flatten it, the bark sift over it. Roos would camp here. Hopefully, it would look like any other piece of ground before someone came this way again.
He glanced over at the clothes. ‘What’ll we do with those? Mum’d find them down at the farm, no matter where I hid them. How about you?’
Myrtle shrugged. ‘We’ve just got the three rooms, remember. I don’t think I could even smuggle them inside without someone noticing.’
‘We’ll have to leave them up here then. Under the rock where I left the food maybe. No one will find them there.’
‘They’ll rot.’
Joey shrugged. ‘What does it matter? He doesn’t need them now.’ They should have buried them, he realised. But it was too late now.
‘What about the other things?’
Joey considered. ‘Under the rock as well,’ he said at last. ‘Wrap them up in the uniform. They’ll be safe there till the end of the war. We can get them then.’
‘But what about the bark? It’ll rot too.’
‘I’ll take that home. I’ll keep it safe. I’ll put it at the back of my sock drawer. If Mum finds it I’ll say it’s mine. I’ll say I’ve been practising Japanese writing.’ He shrugged. ‘She may think it’s odd. But she won’t guess.’
‘It’ll fade anyway,’ said Myrtle. ‘I tried using those berries for ink when I was small. It doesn’t last.’
Joey nodded. ‘I’ll copy it out. I’ll make sure it isn’t lost, whatever it says. Then after the war — when everything is normal again, when things are safe, then …’
‘Then what?’ asked Myrtle.
‘I dunno. Maybe we can find out who he was. With the dog tags, maybe. Find someone who speaks Japanese. Find out what the writing said. Who it was to.’
‘Maybe to us,’ said Myrtle.
‘Or his wife or his parents … or his regiment maybe. Do the Japanese have regiments?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Myrtle.
‘After the war,’ promised Joey. ‘Whoever it’s for. We’ll give it to them then.’
Myrtle nodded. ‘No matter how long it takes us, no matter how hard it is, we’ll find his wife or his son or his parents. We’ll give them all the other things. We’ll tell them …’ Myrtle hesitated.
What will we tell them? Joey wondered. Who was the soldier really? How much did I know and how much did I imagine?
It didn’t matter, he realised. One day he’d find out more.
‘We’ll tell them he was strong and courageous and saved my life and Joe’s. We’ll tell them that he died alone. And that all my life I’ll look up and see the soldier on his hill …
‘No matter how hard it is,’ said Joey finally. ‘We’ll find his people.’
A gust of wind touched their faces, bringing the scents of creek and gum leaves from below.
‘Time to go home,’ said Myrtle finally. ‘Your Mum will have tea waiting.’
Joey nodded. They took the spade and walked back down the hill together, the shadows thickening around them.
The bombs were falling, the smoke was rising from the concentration camps, but Hitler’s daughter knew nothing of this. All she knew was the world of lessons with Fräulein Gelber, the hedgehogs she rescued from the cold and the exciting visits from her beloved father Duffi. Until the day she is taken to her father’s bunker in Berlin …
Anna’s story about Hitler’s daughter haunts Mark. Could it have been true? Did Hitler’s daughter really exist? If Mark had a father like Hitler, could he love him?
ISBN 0 207 19801 2
There was a light in the corner of the chookhouse, just below the perches. It was bright and strangely piercing, like a bit of sun had wandered in by mistake.
Who is the girl through the hole in the chookhouse? Is it really a hole in time? And how can you help someone who lived more than 150 years ago …
Harry dreads leaving the farm to go to boarding school next year. Cissie is an orphaned girl living with the soldiers at the garrison 150 years ago.
Something more powerful than time has drawn them both together.
ISBN 0 207 19674 5
Just shut your eyes and picture yourself walking around a corner. That’s what my firend told me. Somewhere around the corner you’ll be safe.
The demonstration was wild, out of control. Barbarawas scared. She saw the policeman running towards her. She needed to escape. She closed her eyes and did precisely that: she walked somewhere around the corner … into another demonstration … another time.
Barbara was lucky — she met Young Jim who took her out of the strange, frightening city to his home. It was 1932, when Australia was in the grip of the Depression, and Jim lived in a shanty tgown …
But Barbara found a true friend and a true home — somewhere safe around the corner.
ISBN 0 207 18359 7
About the Author
JACKIE FRENCH’s writing career spans 12 years. During this time she has written over 100 books for kids and adults, some of which have been translated into other languages, and won various awards for her writing. Jackie has also been a regular on ‘Burke’s Backyard’ in many disguises, and writes columns on gardening and the environment in newspapers and magazines.
Jackie’s love of history began as a child and has been the inspiration for the series of books that began with Somewhere Around the Corner, followed by Daughter of the Regiment, Soldier on the Hill, Lady Dance, The White Ship, How the Finnegans Saved the Ship and Valley of Gold. Jackie feels that the past was not only a fascinating adventure, but also holds the clues to understanding our own time.
Hitler’s Daughter h
as received wide critical acclaim and in 2000 won the Children’s Book Council Book of the Year for Younger Readers.
‘It is a mark of French’s genius that she can weave deep moral issues into an engrossing, fast-moving story.’
Stephen Matthews, Canberra Times
To find out more about Jackie French and her books register for her monthly newsletter at www.harpercollins.com.au/ jackiefrench.
Books by Jackie French
Fiction
The Roo that Won the Melbourne Cup • Rain Stones
Walking the Boundaries • The Boy Who Had Wings
Somewhere Around the Corner
Annie’s Pouch • Alien Games • The Secret Beach
Mermaids • Mind’s Eye • A Wombat Named Bosco
Summerland • Beyond the Boundaries
The Warrior — The Story of a Wombat
The Book of Unicorns • Dancing with Ben Hall
Soldier on the Hill • Daughter of the Regiment
Stories to Eat with a Banana • Tajore Arkle
Hitler’s Daughter • In the Blood • Missing You, Love Sara
Stories to Eat with a Watermelon • Lady Dance
Stories to Eat with a Blood Plum
How the Finnegans Saved the Ship
Dark Wind Blowing • A Story to Eat with a Mandarin
Ride the Wild Wind • Blood Moon • The White Ship
Phredde and the Leopard-skin Librarian
Valley of Gold
Non-fiction
How the Aliens from Alpha Centauri Invaded My
Maths Class and Turned Me Into a Writer …
How to Guzzle Your Garden • Book of Challenges
Stamp, Stomp, Whomp
(and other interesting ways to get rid of pests)
Seasons of Content • The Best of Jackie French
Earthly Delights
The Fascinating History of Your Lunch
The Secret Life of Santa Claus
Big Burps, Bare Bums and Other Bad-Mannered Blunders
Visit Jackie’s website
www.jackiefrench.com
Copyright
Angus&Robertson
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers, Australia
First published in Australia in 1997
This edition published in 2014
by HarperCollinsPublishers Pty Limited
ABN 36 009 913 517
A member of HarperCollinsPublishers (Australia) Pty Limited Group
www.harpercollins.com.au
Text copyright © Jackie French 1997
The right of Jackie French to be identified as the moral rights author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000 (Cth).
This book is copyright.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission. Inquiries should be addressed to the publishers.
HarperCollinsPublishers
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National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication data:
French, Jackie.
Soldier on the hill.
ISBN 0 207 19637 0. (pbk)
ISBN 978 1 7430 9532 4 (epub)
I. Title.
A823.3
Cover design by Antart
Cover images: Portrait of Japanese Guard, Sukiama Mudo
The Australian War Memorial Negative Number 044980
Soldier on the Hill Page 17