Barbed Wire and Cherry Blossoms (2 page)

Hiroshi begins to hyperventilate, panicking to the point of shaking, a wave of nausea causing him to gag and double over with cramps. He hears more gunshots but he is paralysed with fear, with the reality that he is alone and his fellow soldiers and Masao are probably dead. He slows his breathing and picks himself up like the soldier he was trained to be. He stands to attention and immediately begins quietly chanting the Senjinkun – the military creed – because he knows that is what he is supposed to do: ‘Strong is he who comprehends shame. Be always mindful of the reputation of
your community and family, while making every effort to fulfil their expectations. Do not in death leave to posterity a stain on your honour by having suffered in life the disgrace of being a prisoner.'

He wasn't prepared for the escape. Then again, he was never prepared for the capture – it was not something that was expected to happen to Japanese soldiers and therefore none had been trained in what to do if they were. It is why he had been like other soldiers and given information readily to the Australian guards, who had always treated him with respect, after some initial rough handling that was exacerbated by anxiety and distress.

Some of the Australian officials interrogating Hiroshi and the other Japanese soldiers had remarkable skills in the Japanese language, and this impressed Hiroshi, and made it easy for him to cooperate. Hiroshi wasn't considered to be difficult or militant and mutual respect was shown between the captor and captive. Some of the soldiers were tricked though, manipulated by being offered a cigarette or sugary treat. Australian soldiers would get the information they needed by asking, ‘When was the last time you had sugar?' and pushing a sweet towards them. The thoughts of the capture, the need for sugar, the memories of the sweet mochi rice cakes his mother used to make are all too real for Hiroshi. He can taste them now.

Of course there were lies too. Hiroshi, like many others, did not give his real name so that his family would not be able to trace him back to a camp. He would never be traced back to the prisoner of war camp in Cowra; he could never be
known to have been a prisoner of war
anywhere
. That is where the shame would start. He lied about his position too. His university background meant he was an officer in the Imperial Japanese Army. He did not tell the truth about his rank, and therefore did not go to D camp with other officers, who did not break out. He claimed he was just a soldier – feeling it was better to be held back with his friends, with Masao, than be separated in an already shameful situation.

He knew the truth, though: in this bloody war, life in the compound was utopia compared to life on the warfront, to life in military training. The Japanese government had left their soldiers starving in New Guinea so they were forced to fight for food as well as fighting the enemy. Hiroshi respected the Australian soldiers who fed and treated them all well. He was still lean but he'd gained weight while in B Compound.

New Guinea is a lifetime away for Hiroshi as he hits the river where people are camping. The camp is under the railway bridge and near the quarry. There are about six huts strung out between the river and the road south of the bridge, and another four huts north of the bridge and a few more between the bridge and a fence line that Hiroshi can just make out. The huts remind him of the traditional wooden architecture scattered throughout Shikoku. He wonders if there are local fishermen here who cast nets into the river like the men do back home.

It is quiet except for a barking dog. He decides to run to the second set of huts and rest, because even though there's no way of telling how long he has been running or how far he is from the camp, he knows it's still not far enough
away. He keeps moving with the little energy he can muster. He imagines running from one base to another, like he did playing baseball back in university and at the camp. He focuses on a specific point as if it is a base he is running to.
Find somewhere to hide
, he tells himself.

His clothes are soaked with the sweat of fear and exertion when he reaches the second group of huts, small like the ones in B Compound. He is exhausted and slows his pace in the hope he might find some refuge. He quietens his breathing and uses his military training to move like the kitsune, a spiritual entity with superior intelligence likened to the fox. He moves around the huts until he finds one with a verandah to crawl under.

The sun is rising just as Hiroshi's eyelids fall, heavy. Anxiety and adrenalin have kept him awake till now, but he is emotionally drained and exhausted from running. He's been alert for hours, and that too has been a strain on his mind. The cold and frost make it hard to feel comfortable. He wishes he had the warmth of the camp to protect him.

After what seems like only minutes he wakes to see first light. He smells tobacco and hears a man's voice. He listens closely and thinks it's strange there's only one voice, before realising the man is talking to a dog sitting three feet from where Hiroshi lies. The dog sticks its head under the verandah and growls. Hiroshi panics, thinking it is one of the dingoes he's heard about, and sits up abruptly. He hits his head on a wooden beam and groans loudly and the dog barks. He panics even more.

‘Shh, KB, you'll wake everyone up. We don't need the goothas running around yet,' the brown-skinned, black-haired man with a cigarette stuck to his bottom lip whispers to his four-legged mate, who is making more noise than either the man or Hiroshi want.

The fella has long legs, but one doesn't bend at all, so he struggles to get down low to see what the dog is growling at. The men's eyes meet, Hiroshi's full of fear, the other's oddly full of warmth.

‘What have we got here then?' the man says, blowing smoke into Hiroshi's face, an inquisitive look on his own.

F
our Aboriginal men who look older than their years sit around a small wooden table in mismatched chairs. It's Banjo Williams' home and he's there with Sid Coe and Fred Murray, who both come from a long line of respected leaders in the community. Fred's cousin Doolan Murray was a main leader at Erambie for twenty years and was the force behind setting up the school on the reserve. Since he passed, Fred has carried the mantle for the family. Fred and Sid work at the local cannery and King Billie, the Manager at Erambie, has a lot of respect for them, as does everyone else. Banjo is a carpenter and has built most of the furniture in the houses at Erambie as well as the verandah his family enjoys. He has done some work at the prisoner of war compound, but has had no contact with any of the prisoners first hand. Banjo's brother Kevin, a drover and buckjump rider who works around New South Wales, is the fourth in the group.

The men look tired from long days of hard work and years of worry about protecting and caring for their women and children. Except for Kevin, whose cheeky eyes and smile have somehow helped him maintain his youthfulness. He's not only got a reputation with the goothas across the Riverina for being an engaging storyteller, but also has a reputation for being a bit of a ladies' man, wooing women with his dance moves, smooth singing voice and charm. Banjo doesn't like his brother's philandering ways and Kevin doesn't like the fact that some men travel across country to Cowra because the town is known for its beautiful Black women.

The men are listening to Banjo, who is usually good for a yarn and a laugh, but today the mood is serious.

‘I'm just sitting there, having my morning smoke, and KB starts making a racket, which isn't unusual but you know a man needs some quiet time in the morning.' Banjo taps his tobacco pouch on the table and the other men nod. ‘I tell the mirri to be quiet but he's sticking his nose under the hut and growling. Of course I think it's going to be a rabbit, or another mirri or maybe a snake, but he just keeps going, so I crouch down as best I can with this gammy leg, and you won't believe what I saw. What I found.' Banjo can see high expectations on the other men's faces. He looks around to check there's no one else in earshot. ‘It was a Jap,' he says. ‘A Japanese soldier, from the camp up there,' and he points in the direction of the camp miles away.

‘What?' Kevin asks loudly.

‘Shh,' Banjo implores. ‘He's on the run, obviously.'

‘Where is he?' Kevin asks.

‘I've hidden him,' Banjo says with a frown at how loud Kevin is speaking.

‘You did what?'

‘Will you stop it, Kev? I didn't know what to do. He was terrified. I mean, he looked terrified – we didn't speak. I just took him quickly to the air raid shelter and made him climb down there. My leg won't let me get down the ladder. You know it's never been the same since that tree fell on it when we were out cutting.'

Kevin shakes his head in disbelief. ‘But why d'ya do that with the Jap?'

‘I didn't know what else to do. He needed my help. If he's on the run, I'm not going to put him in. That's not our way. It's over four miles from the camp to here in a direct line –
if
he's on the run and came the long way round, skirting the east of town around Taragala, he would've run over six miles. The man deserves a medal for that.' Banjo speaks fast, almost without taking a breath.

‘And some rest!' Sid adds, rubbing his large belly.

Kevin clenches his fists. ‘We can't hide him here! No one in the community will want to hide a Jap.' When no one responds, he raises his voice. ‘We're at war with these mongrels.' He looks at Sid and Fred, blood boiling, and slams his fists on the table. ‘We've got our own fellas at war. Are you mad?'

Banjo's wife, Joan, comes cautiously into the hut carrying clean bed sheets she's washed by hand in a galvanised tub out the front. The windy day has dried them quickly. ‘Shh, I can hear you outside. King Billie will be here if you don't
keep quiet,' she says, looking at Kevin. She walks over to her husband and leans low to whisper, ‘Where is he?'

‘He's in the air raid shelter,' Banjo whispers back. ‘He's safe.'

‘
He's
safe!' Kevin slams both fists on the table again. ‘
He's
safe! What about
us
? Are
we
safe?'

Joan walks around the table and puts her hands on the shoulders of her brother-in-law and says, ‘Kev, we need to be united on this.'

Kevin is momentarily placated, lowering his voice out of respect for Joan. ‘We have to be united the other way round.'

‘What do you mean?' Sid asks.

‘We shouldn't even be talking about this. The Japs are the enemy in this war. Do you think they're treating Australian soldiers well? I heard the Australian soldiers captured by the Japs were sent to Singapore and other places to work for their army! Our men are being forced to work for the enemy. And you, you want to work for
their
army! Traitors, all of you!'

Banjo knows that Kevin is right in most respects, as does everyone else. Australia is at war and there are Wiradjuri men fighting too.

‘Jim told me that it's common knowledge the Aussies are beaten with leather whips and clubbed with bats to make them talk, even if they have no information to give. They are brutal, and this fella you want to save, he'd probably do the same, given the chance.' Kevin keeps shaking his head.

Banjo doesn't believe that; he saw the man's eyes, saw the fear and warmth in them.

‘We've got nearly a dozen men –
our
people – in this war.' Kevin looks each man in the eye. ‘We don't even know where
they are. You think the Japs are protecting them? They're probably bloody eating them. The
bastards.
'

Joan shakes her head at Kevin and his suggestion that the Japanese are cannibals. Kevin has always been the dramatic one in the group, so Joan lets the comment pass without a reaction, as do the others.

Banjo is quiet. He has always been the thoughtful one and as his younger, more aggressive, sibling rants, he is thinking of how to respond in a way that will dull the fire in his brother's belly.

‘What do you reckon we should do then?' he asks, knowing that giving Kevin a chance to offer suggestions is the right thing to do.

His brother leaps at the opportunity. ‘Why don't we ask old Tommy Mack what he thinks? Ask someone who's actually
been
to war what
they
think about hiding an escaped Jap prisoner.' There is so much venom and sarcasm in Kevin's tone that the room becomes uncomfortable. The likelihood of the escaped prisoner lasting even one more hour is dwindling rapidly, the way the conversation is headed. ‘
Or
why don't we ask the Coes what they think? They lost men to war in the past – I bet they won't want to hide any of the enemy in
this
war.' Again he looks at Banjo, Fred and Sid one at a time, waiting for a response.

‘And why don't we ask the Newtons about Dooley and Bibby,' Kevin continues, referring to Lindsay and Reuben, the brothers who are both fighting in the war. ‘Bibby's in Malaya, but no one's heard from him for yonks.' He stops short of suggesting the man is dead, but everyone already believes
that. ‘Rueben's in Bougainville, or is he? He could've been fighting the bloody Jap you're hiding.'

‘Shh,' Joan says angrily. ‘The goothas might hear you. They play with the Newton kids and I don't want any of that getting back to the family.'

They all remember the two Coe men, and each Anzac Day the whole community pays tribute to them. The men remain well respected and will always be remembered for fighting a war for a country that denied them the right to be Australian citizens, or to earn equal wages or marry without permission of the Manager.

‘You mob are traitors,' Kevin repeats. ‘Where's your loyalty to your own people? Sometimes I can't believe we're related.' He lights up another cigarette. ‘Aren't we going to respect our brothers?'