Enemy Camp (18 page)

We had more lemonade, and then we kids sat and talked while Mrs Proctor went off to see about something. Barry had hardly stammered at all, I realised.

‘Do you want to see the books?' Susan asked. I knew Barry liked talking to Margaret, and Clarry was having a snoop around the room, showing off how well he can walk without his braces. So we two went over to the
shelves. ‘See if you like this one,' Susan said. ‘I know you're a good reader.' Another girl's book, I thought, but I said ‘Yeah, thanks', and took it.

And then — Mrs Proctor drove us blokes back into town in their flash car! She had some committee meeting to go to, and she was taking Susan to stay at Margaret's. (Girls do that sort of thing.) So we all whirred back to Featherston. Nobody waved; didn't they realise what important people they were seeing?

The book Susan lent me is called
The Happy Return
, and it's not a girl's one after all. There is this British Navy officer called Horatio Hornblower (what a name!) who gets in all these battles about a hundred years ago. It's pretty good.

I told Mum and Dad how our visit to the Proctors' had gone. When I asked Dad about the camp, he shook his head. ‘Work parties. It's always about work parties!' Mum called out, ‘We'd better leave for the pictures in a few minutes', and he said no more.

The main picture was
Sergeant York
. It's the story of this Yank guy in the Great War who was a conscientious objector, but decided to fight for his country. He was an amazing rifle shot, and saved a lot of his pals in battle. It made me think of the
samurai
Mrs Proctor had talked about, and of Mrs Sutcliffe at school.

The town hall was all lit up, with its big blackout curtains gone. Outside, the car headlights and streetlights
made everything glow. We walked home slowly. I told myself again that I'd do everything I could to help Ito change people's minds. After all, everyone
can
change their mind. I have, about Susan Proctor.

SUNDAY, 21 FEBRUARY Barry and Clarry and Dad and I biked out to the camp soon after breakfast.

I told the other kids about last night's film. Barry says Mrs Sutcliffe's husband is a conscientious objector because he thinks killing another person can never be right.

‘I guess all wars are different, lads,' Dad said. ‘I dunno if Hitler or the Japs could be stopped any other way.'

‘The k-kids call Miss M-Mutter “auntie”,' Barry said next. I tried to imagine it.

My father smiled. ‘I told you she taught me one year? She's been there forever. Makes you wonder what sort of life she'd have had if her fiancé hadn't been killed in the first war.'

After we stopped at the camp barrier, a guard led us into the civilian compound and then the hut. He was someone we'd met before — my father! (He said, ‘I didn't tell you it was going to be me. Thought you might be embarrassed.')

Around us, prisoners stood in groups, talking, or sat
playing Go. Some went silent as we approached. Some watched, or nodded. It seemed quieter than last time.

My father led us to the usual hut. Just a minute later, another guard brought Ito in and left him. We kids stood and bowed.

Dad went, ‘Morning, Lieutenant Ito,' and our
sensei
nodded to him. Once again, I felt that the two of them respected each other.

We went straight into the lesson, standing and repeating words, standing again and repeating again.

After a while, Ito said, ‘Today, I teach you the Japanese sword.' So we learned how every sword is different; how the blades used to be made at night so that the light of the flames showed up any little flaws; how the most famous swords have their own names; how Japanese officers in this war still carry swords sometimes.

‘The great men with swords were warriors, hundreds of years ago. The word for them is—'

‘—
samurai
!' Clarry interrupted. He stumbled to his feet and gulped. ‘Sorry,
sensei
. We learned it yesterday.'

‘You learn it?' Ito's face showed no expression. ‘How is this?'

We told him about Mrs Proctor's lesson. We didn't mention the girls; we all felt he wouldn't be keen on that. He stood, calm and still as always, while we talked. When we finished, he was silent for a little while. Then he looked at my father.

‘This is good. When people know other people, this is good.' I saw my Dad smile.

We learned more: how every type of sword has a different edge; how some are carved like sculptures. Then Ito went: ‘You have question?'

I asked if he had a sword. ‘It is with my brother officers. At home.'

Barry stood and said: ‘Mrs P-Proctor told us a true
samurai
is always loyal to his friends. Is that right?'

A moment's silence. ‘Every Japanese soldier must be loyal,' the quiet figure finally said. ‘To his Emperor. To his comrades. That is the first thing.'

He was telling us something else, too. Somehow, I knew it. I opened my mouth, but Clarry shot up. ‘We are loyal to our friends, too,
sensei
. Your son, Haru, is he like that?'

My father stirred. Ito was gazing at the wall. ‘He will know. He will be.' A beat, then: ‘We finish now.'

The three of us stood and bowed. Dad stood, too. Our
sensei
was halfway to the door when he stopped, and turned to my father. ‘They are fine boys. I will remember.'

He reached out his hand. My father took it with his good one. They stood, gazing at each other, and I knew I was seeing something special. Then Ito turned again to us. One by one, he shook our hands. ‘Be strong,' he went. ‘Be men.' He left the room.

We kids looked at one another. My father stood with his lips pursed; I could tell he was puzzled, too. ‘Alright, lads. We'll see you on your way. Tell your mum I'll be home in time for the picnic, Ewen.'

Prisoners in the military compound were wrestling as we made our way to the gates. Elsewhere, the talking went on. Did things feel different? I couldn't tell.

This afternoon, we three MacKenzies and four Morrises had our picnic at the Tauherenikau River. Mr Morris had an old Railways truck (don't ask me how), and we kids plus Mum and Dad bounced on the back while he drove out.

Last time we'd been there, just after Christmas, we'd seen the prisoners working on the racecourse. Today it was just us. Mr Morris and Dad made a fire and boiled a billy, while Mum and Mrs Morris sat on a rug and gossiped.

Barry and Clarry and I mucked about in the water. Barry is getting taller; so am I, I suppose. But it was Clarry who everyone looked at. He's brown from summer, like us, but he looks so much stronger. He's still careful how he stands and walks, but today I knew for sure: he's going to be alright.

We drank billy tea that tasted of smoke. There were tomatoes from our garden, and plums from the Watsons' next door. Mum had made sandwiches, and Mrs Morris had saved some Christmas cake. It was a feast!

‘When I was in hospital, they gave us these really awful steamed vegetables,' Clarry said. ‘We had to eat them, or they'd just leave them by the bed. So some of us used to tip them out the windows, into the flower beds.' He laughed. ‘The flowers died.'

It was a great, great day.

MONDAY, 22 FEBRUARY Nothing — except for what is happening at the camp.

TUESDAY, 23 FEBRUARY I heard about it after school, from Dad's friend Bruce. I wasn't meant to.

At school, the taps weren't working properly. There was hardly enough water to wash our hands. Susan said her mum wondered if next time we would like to do some Japanese writing and take it to Ito. She's coming into town tomorrow afternoon, and our headmaster says we can use a classroom after school.

I said OK. Every bit of writing will help an author. And I kept remembering what Ito said on Sunday. Something is going on, I'm sure of it. Our
sensei
talked as if he might not see us again. Well, I want to see
him
again.

Dad was in the garden, tying up bunches of onions to
store. I was just starting to tell him about Mrs Proctor and tomorrow's lesson when our front gate opened and Bruce came down the path. ‘Hello, pal,' Dad called. ‘What brings you this way?'

Bruce wheezed as he came. His face was worried. He didn't even say hello. ‘Things are looking iffy out at the camp, Jack. Thought you should know.' He glanced at me. ‘You might want to think twice about Ewen and the other lads going out there for a bit.'

My dad reached for his tobacco tin. ‘What's going on?'

‘It's the work parties again. Some of them were supposed to go out cutting gorse this morning, and they nearly all refused. Just sat down; said they weren't going.'

My father frowned. ‘Gorse-cutting isn't war work.'

‘I know. But some of the Japs are itching for a fight. More and more of them, I reckon.'

Bruce glanced at me again. My father went: ‘You pop inside, Ewen. See if your mum needs a hand.' I opened my mouth, but Dad shook his head. ‘Off you go, son.'

I went, but only part of the way. As soon as I was around the corner, I stopped and stood listening, breathing as quietly as I could.

‘One lot from the civilian compound did go out to work in the vegetable gardens,' Bruce was saying. ‘They'd been there maybe half an hour when some other
Nips started yelling to them from inside the wire. Next thing, the ones who were working just up and marched back into camp. The guards ended up trailing along behind them. Some of our fellows are in a filthy mood; reckon the Nips are making them look like idiots, and they won't put up with it.'

I heard a match strike. My father puffed on his cigarette. ‘What's the colonel doing?'

Bruce kept wheezing. He was worked-up, alright. ‘Any more refusals to join work parties, and they'll be punished. He hasn't said how. He called their officers in; told them they weren't controlling their men properly.'

‘That won't help.' Dad spoke quietly; I strained to listen. ‘The Japs think their officers are special. Insulting them only makes the others angry.'

‘You haven't heard the worst of it.' Bruce's words made me stand even more still. ‘Another of them tried to kill himself — hang himself, like those others. It's only because there are extra patrols checking the huts that we found him in time. He's in the camp hospital.' A pause, more wheezing. ‘The others tried to stop the patrol going in. Our blokes had to jab some of them with bayonets to clear them out of the road. It's not good, pal. Not good at all.'

My father's voice stayed quiet. ‘That Swiss bloke, the one who represents the Japanese government, any sign of him?'

‘Dunno. A lot of our boys are saying if the Nips try anything more, then we're ready for them. There are idiots on both sides, I tell you.'

Another couple of puffs from Dad. ‘Ito?' My ears pricked up at the name.

‘Captain Ashton is talking to him. But there are so many stupid bloody hot-heads, Jack. I reckon some of the Japs want to go out in a blaze of glory. And Ito is a Nip, too, don't forget. He'll stick with them if it comes to real trouble.'

My dad sighed. The two of them began moving towards the house, Bruce going: ‘Thought you'd want to know, with the boys going out there. They're good young blokes, Jack.'

I slipped inside, along to my room, and pretended to be reading.

Dad said nothing to me about it. I don't know if he told Mum. I tried to read more of
The Happy Return
; it's got a great sea battle. But I kept thinking of what I had heard. Can Ito stop what's happening? Can anybody? I felt scared all evening. The good things of the past few days seem to have disappeared.

The BBC News says the Yanks have captured two more Pacific islands from the Japs. Wonder if Moana's boyfriend was there? If only some sort of miracle would happen: the Japs realise they can't win, and they surrender. If only.

WEDNESDAY, 24 FEBRUARY I didn't write all that yesterday. We have begun our journals again in Room Six. ‘Sir?' went Terry O'Donaghue as we started. ‘Sir, do you think the war will finish soon? The Japs and the Germans must know they're losing.'

It was so much like what I'd been wishing that I wondered if Terry had been reading my mind. Mr White said, ‘Why don't you write what
you
think, Terence? That will help formulate your thoughts.'

I wrote a lot. As usual, I felt better after I had done it.

Before that, when we got to school, I waited until Clarry had headed off to his Standard Four friends. ‘Remember we've got that lesson after school!' he called to us, trying to look important.

Then I told Barry what Bruce had said yesterday. My best friend looked at me, then at the road outside. A truck with three men had just pulled up.

‘I wish we c-could go and see Ito,' he went.

‘This weekend?' I asked. Barry nodded. ‘But it's a long t-time to wait.'

The men from the truck were starting to dig up the footpath. ‘What are they doing?' Barry said.

‘Maybe it's a new air-raid shelter?' I suggested. ‘We can hide there if Miss Mutter throws things at us.' Actually, we haven't had any air-raid drills for ages. All the invasion scares have gone.

Not much water in the taps again at morning playtime. We were doing History when the monitor arrived and said that all classes had to line up outside for a special assembly.

We filed out. The camp, I thought. Something has happened at the camp. No, the Japs and Germans have decided to surrender.

Nothing like that. The pipe bringing water to the school had broken, the headmaster told us. Council workers were repairing it, but in the meantime there was no water for drinking or the toilets. So because of health reasons, school was stopping straightaway, and there would be no lessons tomorrow.

Everyone started talking at once. Some kids went ‘Hurray!', until they saw Miss Mutter glaring at them. Our headmaster lifted his hand, and things went quiet again.