Enemy Camp (4 page)

The prisoners with the post stopped dead. Silence for a second, then two of them went ‘
Konnichiwa
', and bowed. Others watched.

‘Yeah,
konnichiwa
,' I said, too. This time, there were smiles as well as bows and words. Behind us on the road a car had slowed to a stop. Maybe they were going to join our little chat.

‘Alright, lads.' It was the guard who'd told us to stay
back. ‘These blokes have got a job to do.' But he didn't sound annoyed.

Then voices began yelling. Voices from the car. ‘Shoot the sods! Dirty bloody Nips! Shoot the yellow dogs!'

The prisoners' smiles disappeared. A couple looked angry; a few looked nervous. Most of them had no expression.

‘Filthy Jap pigs!' yelled another voice. ‘Shoot them!'

A couple of guards shouted back, waving the car on its way. Rifles were unslung. The Japanese men shifted closer together. Inside the barbed wire, silence had fallen.

The car spluttered off, trailing more yells. ‘You two get going,' a guard ordered us, and we did.

Clarry's trolley is great. It's got a proper metal link that fits around the base of a bike seat. Barry and I spent the afternoon riding around the streets, towing Clarry. He sat there, legs stretched out in front of him, going ‘Faster, slave!' and calling out to everyone.

We used the trolley again, pulling it along with a cord, to take him to the pictures after tea. We all went, MacKenzies and Morrises.

The town hall was full. Everyone stood for ‘God Save the King'; even Clarry hauled himself up on the seat in front. There was a newsreel showing British fighter planes in the Battle of Britain and the damage from Nazi bombing raids on London. There was a Woody
Woodpecker cartoon, and we all laughed like mad.

The main film was
The Great Dictator
, with Charlie Chaplin doing a takeoff of Adolf Hitler. In the story, he was called Adenoid Hynkel and he walked around giving crazy Nazi salutes and knocking people's hats off, or poking them in the eye.

We walked home afterwards through the dark streets, Clarry rattling along on his trolley, which his dad pulled.

Today was a special day. I'm glad I've got this journal, so I can remember it.

SUNDAY, 15 NOVEMBER The BBC News tonight said the Nazis suffered a really big defeat in the El Alamein battle, and they're retreating.

‘Well done, lads,' Dad went while he rolled a cigarette. ‘Wonder if Charles Upham was there?'

Charles Upham is a New Zealand soldier who has won the Victoria Cross
twice.
He got the first one after attacking a German machine-gun post with grenades while our blokes were fighting on Crete. Then, just four months back, he won a second VC for charging a whole lot of Germans, during a battle in Egypt.

I wish I could do something like that. I wonder if Dad would like to be there, fighting with his mates.

MONDAY, 16 NOVEMBER I keep thinking about that car at the POW camp: the men in it yelling at the Japanese. Dad says most guards treat the prisoners OK, but there are a few who wouldn't mind a bit of trouble, so they can show the Nips who's boss.

There are nearly five hundred Japs in the camp now, and about a hundred guards. The first military prisoners should arrive soon.

TUESDAY, 17 NOVEMBER Nothing.

WEDNESDAY, 18 NOVEMBER Actually, one thing did happen at school yesterday. Snobby Susan Proctor and Margaret Nicholls were going into class, and Barry went ‘
K-K-Konnichiwa
' to them. They smiled, and Susan said ‘
Konnichiwa
' back. I thought my friend had better taste!

Dad didn't get back from the camp until after I was asleep last night. They're working flat-out, fencing a new area for the Nip military captives. I guess that's why those prisoners were carrying posts on Saturday.

At breakfast today, Dad had this tiny wooden carving of a fish. It looked really good: fins and eyes and even little scales.

‘Got it from a Nip for half a dozen cigarettes,' Dad said. ‘He's a furniture-maker back home. I
think
that's what he was saying. Tiny little bloke, but good value building the huts.' I wondered if it was the prisoner from Saturday, who'd almost dropped the post.

Air-raid practice at school today. Not the sort where we all head for the shelters; instead we practised what to do if enemy planes attack while you are in the street. You lie up against a fence or in the gutter. We lay down on part of the tar-sealed playground instead, pretending it was a gutter. Miss Mutter told off a couple of the girls who didn't lie down properly in case their skirts got dirty.

Went to the Morrises' after school, and all three of us played a new game. It's called Sink the German Navy. You have a bit of paper with squares on it. You put a battleship (eight squares), two cruisers (five squares each) and other ships on the paper. The others try to guess what squares your ships are on, and ‘sink' them. None of us wanted to be the Germans.

That reminds me. Terry O'Donaghue has a jigsaw which shows evil-looking Jap soldiers invading Australia and New Zealand. He says he thumps the Nips in the face every time he puts it together.

Clarry was sore today. The visiting nurse had come; she massages his legs to help with the circulation. Otherwise he might get gangrene, where your feet or
fingers start to rot and have to be amputated. Makes me sick to think of it. So Barry and I let him win most of the games.

THURSDAY, 19 NOVEMBER Mr Morris brought over yesterday's
Evening Post.
Parts of some pages are blank where the censor has decided that the news might help the enemy. Mum and Dad were reading the latest Roll of Honour. ‘Nobody we know, thank goodness,' Mum said. Dad nodded. ‘Not today.'

I had a look before I left for school, and the names seemed to go on and on. K
ILLED IN
A
CTION
: A
DAMSON
K J (M
AJOR
), D
UNEDIN
… D
IED OF
W
OUNDS
: P
ENROSE
A (C
PL
), T
ARADALE
… W
OUNDED AND
M
ISSING
: H
EREMIA
J O (D
RIVER
), B
LENHEIM
… Over a hundred of them. Imagine all those telegrams arriving at houses across New Zealand.

Some other kids had seen the Roll of Honour, too. Margaret Nicholls was telling the girls about someone in Carterton whose dog started howling one afternoon last year. Later, they found it was the same time their son was killed by a machine-gun in Greece.

The big news is that the first lot of Jap military prisoners are due to arrive at the camp in the next few days. Nobody knows how many there'll be. Some were so badly wounded that they died on the ships bringing
them to New Zealand. Some will go straight into hospital (with guards) when they get here. A few were found floating on bits of timber, three days after their cruiser was sunk.

FRIDAY, 20 NOVEMBER A few Home Guard blokes stood outside the council offices as we biked home, talking to some girls who work there. I can't wait to get to secondary school and the Army Cadet Corps. They have battledress uniforms like real troops do, except with shorts.

I asked Dad if Barry and I could ride out to the camp tomorrow, and maybe take Clarry. He shook his head. ‘Not just now, Ewen. Nobody knows what it'll be like when the new lot of Nips arrive. Stay clear in the meantime.'

No cards with the Morrises this Friday night. Mr Morris is doing extra train-driving, since one of the apprentice drivers has just turned nineteen and has been called up by the army.

SATURDAY, 21 NOVEMBER Felt annoyed that I'm not allowed to go to the camp. I think Dad guessed this, because he sat in the kitchen after breakfast and talked about it, while he rolled his
tinful of cigarettes to last him for the day. Tobacco
isn't
rationed; in fact there's more of it being made — they say it settles people's nerves.

‘I know you want to have a look, son. But it could be tricky out there for a while. There are Japs who tried to throw themselves back in the sea after the Yanks hauled them on board, they're so ashamed of being captured alive. Anything might happen. It hasn't been too bad with the civvie prisoners. But this lot …' He shrugged.

‘Isn't there anyone who can make them see sense?' Mum was wiping the table.

Dad shrugged again. ‘The Japs signed the Red Cross agreement about how to treat prisoners of war, years back. But their generals don't believe in it. There's a Swiss government bloke who's supposed to keep an eye on them here, since Switzerland isn't in the war, but nobody knows if they'll take any notice of him.'

He stuck the tin in his tunic pocket. ‘Time I was off. You're commanding officer here, Ewen. Make sure your mother carries out her orders.'

Mum snorted and slapped him with her dish-cloth. Then she stood watching him ride away. I heard her sigh.

Since we couldn't go to the camp, Barry and I towed Clarry around a few streets on our bikes. Mrs Morris made him wear an extra jumper, since he feels the cold so much. It was Barry's turn to tow the trolley, so of
course Clarry was giving him orders: ‘Down here. Not
here
— I mean
there
!'

We were starting back, watching out for pot-holes, when we all jumped as loud yells burst out, somewhere on our right. Then we ducked as a shot cracked, followed by a second one.

Barry realised what it was first, like he always does. ‘Home G-Guard!' He and I stood on our pedals, heading for the Domain, with Clarry bouncing behind me, going ‘Hurry!'

A big sign blocked the entrance: A
RMY
T
RAINING
. D
ANGER
— K
EEP
O
UT
. A soldier, an old guy about forty or so, stood there. He held a hand up as we appeared.

We stopped and stared. Another shot cracked. Then two, close together. On the path, a man in uniform with a peaked cap — an officer — pointed a pistol in the air.
CRACK
!
CRACK
! I ducked again, even though clouds were the only things being shot at.

Blokes were among the trees, crawling or lying on their stomachs, holding rifles. A line of them rushed out onto the grass, threw themselves flat with guns pointed towards the far side. More sprinted from the trees, past the first lot, and dropped down. The first line leaped up, advanced, hit the ground again.
CRACK
!
CRACK
! The shots went on.

Some of the Home Guard had grey hair. I heard them puffing as they ran. A couple limped. But they looked
like real soldiers. I wished I was old enough to do something like that.

We realised the man by the sign was calling to us. ‘Alright, lads. Off you go. You could be Nazi spies for all I know.' But he was grinning.

‘You r-reckon they could st-stop the N-Nips?' Barry asked as we rode on. I shook my head. ‘Dad says if there's an invasion, they move into the bush, and fight from there.' I imagined the Tararuas in the rain, and wasn't so sure I wanted to be older after all.

Clarry had gone quiet. ‘Got a headache,' he grunted as we turned into our street. ‘Don't tell Mum.'

SUNDAY, 22 NOVEMBER It's not fair when it rains on weekends! Mum had a big load of washing to do, so I helped keep a fire going under the copper while she pegged things up on the verandah.

We yakked away about where we'll go when the war is over. There's an organisation that arranges holidays for servicemen's families; it would be great if we could have one of those.

In the afternoon I sat by the fire and read Bruce's book on space. I wonder if anybody will ever reach the moon on a spaceship? Hard to imagine.

Dad came home in one of the camp trucks with his bike in the back, so he was pretty dry. After he'd hung
up his greatcoat, and taken off his boots and army belt, he told us the news. The first lot of Jap military prisoners have arrived.

MONDAY, 23 NOVEMBER Just three weeks until the summer holidays.

Only a dozen of the new Japs arrived yesterday, including a couple of pilots still suffering from burns after the Yanks shot them down.

‘At least the second fence around their compound is finished,' Dad told Mum.

‘Why do you need two fences?' I asked. ‘Why not a really high one?'

Dad was silent for a second. ‘If anyone gets over the first fence, the second stops them. That gives the guards time to shoot.'

My back felt sort of shivery, all the way to school.

The girls keep talking about the stupid dance at the town hall this Saturday. You'd think it was the most important thing in the universe. I'm not going, and I bet Barry and Clarry aren't.

Some women in overalls were loading the scrap metal from behind the town hall onto trucks as we biked home. One waved to us. ‘Isn't that Moana?' I asked. ‘Anzac's big sister? Thought she was a tram conductor or something in Wellington.'

Barry shook his head. ‘Some of the Yanks — the ones from p-places where N-Negroes aren't allowed to m-m-mix with whites — they don't like Maoris being on t-t-trams with them. M-Moana kept g-getting called names.'

I couldn't believe my ears. ‘That's rotten!'

Dad was home when I got back. The new prisoners seem quiet so far. Another lot are due soon.

TUESDAY, 24 NOVEMBER The Germans are still bombing cities in England. There are whole streets in London that have been destroyed. And the Jap Air Force keeps bombing and shelling places in the north of Australia: Darwin and Townsville. Even though we're going to win the war, there's still a long way to go.

As I was finishing breakfast, Mum told Dad: ‘I might drop by Mrs Connell's shop this afternoon. I've got a few clothing coupons, so I'll see if there's anything I can wear to the dance. You looking forward to it, son?'

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. My mother is going to the dance? Traitor!