Barbed Wire and Cherry Blossoms (26 page)

‘“All Blacks footballer Merv Williams is something more than just an even-time winger. He's the Bing Crosby of Sydney's Aborigines, with a bobby-sox brigade all of his own.”'

‘Oh, please, the Black Bing Crosby, I don't think so.' Only a few sentences in and Kevin is already commentating. Kevin has always fancied himself as the Black Bing Crosby, and has said so more than once, but the title never got picked up by anyone else. And now to hear about Burrah being called Bing Crosby, he's feeling left out of the musical limelight that he has always felt should've been his.

Mary waits for her Uncle to finish then continues. ‘“The dusky teenage belles, who black-track him from dance to dance, never swoon. When he croons they stamp their feet and chorus, ‘Woo woo'.”'

Kevin rolls his eyes and groans with disgust. He mightn't be known as the Bing Crosby of the region but he's certainly adored by the ladies, and he knows it.

‘Stop it, Kev,' Joan orders and then gestures for her daughter to read on.

‘“Merv is known as the double-breasted blue-bird. He's as black as a Pelaco shirt advertisement, with a Ronald Colman moustache and a pair of natty sideburns.”'

‘He does too,' Joan says, having seen a couple of movies at the Cowra Theatre that had the English actor in them. ‘That moustache
is
just like that Colman fella's. I remember Dawnie saying it used to tickle when Burrah kissed her.'

That makes Kevin even angrier. Dawnie was another beautiful local woman Kevin just couldn't snag years ago, and now it is too late. She married a fella and moved off the mission.
There always seemed to be other men who got to marry the women Kevin couldn't win.

‘“He's also a number one pin-up boy at La Perouse –”' And before Mary can read any further, Kevin is up and walking to the door.

‘Pin-up boy? I can't listen to this any more. I'm going for a walk down to Ryan's Place.'

‘Stop it, Kevin, don't be so jealous of other people all the time. It's good one of our own has done well. He works hard and he's talented at what he does. Come back and sit down.' Joan is standing behind the chair, waiting for him to return. Banjo sits back and watches his brother do as he is told. Only Joan can make the two Williams brothers behave well. ‘Mary?' she prompts.

‘“Merv is a fugitive from a gumleaf band in Cowra. He played the alto leaf, and found that by corrugating the leaf with the sharp point of a woomera he could achieve a double-stopping effect. That was the finish. His fellow musicians pointed the bone at him and asked for his resignation.”'

‘What does pointing the bone mean, Mum?' Dottie asks, and the other kids look to their mother for an explanation too.

‘It's something that Aboriginal people do when they want to get even with someone else. If someone does something bad, then they can be punished.' She stops short of saying someone can die because she doesn't want to go into it in front of little James.

Meanwhile, Kevin can't believe that the newspaper has written the phrase or that Burrah would even suggest that. ‘That's just crazy! As if anyone would point the bone because
of music. I can't believe he told the newspaper that. From what I hear, he was only asked to leave the band.'

‘You can't believe everything that's in the paper,' Banjo says. ‘He mightn't have even said that.'

Kevin's not listening to reason. ‘How long is this article anyway, Mary, is it ever going to end?'

Mary holds the paper up to show the two lengthy columns of text. ‘It's quite long, Uncle Kevin.' Mary looks at her mother. ‘At least this is a positive article about Aboriginal people. You're always saying what they write about us is bad, Mum.'

Kevin shakes his head. ‘What more could they possibly be saying about him?'

Mary scans the paper. ‘Well,' she says slowly, ‘it says he's sung at dances and on the radio and somewhere called the Tivoli and he has a new band. And that he played with the All Blacks against the La Perouse Warriors last Sunday in Redfern.'

‘Good to see he's keeping the football up too,' Joan says, trying to deflect the music side of things.

Mary starts to chuckle.

‘What?' Kevin asks, as if the whole article is an attempt to annoy him personally.

‘The paper says that Uncle Burrah thinks Frank Sinatra's singing is just organised asthma.'

‘That does it!' Kevin pushes his chair back in a rage and storms out of the hut. Joan and Banjo look at each other and roll their eyes.

‘Mum, Dad!' Mary is breathless when she runs into the hut, distressed, and with tears running down her cheeks. She almost collapses at the table as she throws the newspaper down and starts to cough. Her mother passes her a glass of water, and her father stands protectively over her.

Mary wipes her nose, coughs again, sips the water and takes a deep breath. It's 7 August 1945 and the headline on the front page of the newspaper has rocked her.

F
IRST ATOMIC BOMB DROPPED ON
JAPAN. 2000
TIMES BLAST OF TEN-TON BOMB

The article has been written in Washington, which Mrs Smith told Mary is in America. Mary doesn't know what an atomic bomb is but she knows it's severe if it's two thousand times stronger than a normal bomb. She knows that this bomb will have caused enormous damage and it has been dropped in Japan. Although she doesn't know how far the bomb site is from Hiroshi's hometown, she knows the news will devastate him.

Her mother picks the newspaper up. ‘Oh dear,' she says, making the sign of the cross. ‘Banjo, you better get the others here.'

Banjo is out the door and back in the time it has taken her to boil the kettle and make six mugs of tea. Mary has composed herself and wants to read the article when they are all seated and silent.

‘“The US dropped the first atomic bomb, the most devastating weapon the world has ever known, on the Japanese city of
Hiroshima today.”' Tears start to form and Mary doesn't know if she can get through the entire story, but she knows she must try, it's her duty and a sign of her commitment to Hiroshi.

‘“This bomb has two thousand times the blast of the largest bomb previously used, the RAF ten-ton bomb. Experts say that three atomic bombs could cause as much damage as all the bombs dropped on Japan in the past six weeks.”' Mary is shocked because she hasn't read about the other bombs, they must have been reported on days she didn't get the paper from the Smiths'. But it also means that Hiroshi doesn't know about the other bombs either. All she can think about is whether his family are safe.

‘ “Since the bomb was dropped, Hiroshima, a port and arms centre, has been completely cloaked in an impenetrable cloud of smoke and dust. President Truman warns the Japanese, ‘We are now prepared to completely obliterate every productive enterprise Japan has above the ground in any city, and sea and land forces will follow up this attack in such numbers and power as the Japanese have never seen.' ”' Mary gasps, putting her hand over her mouth. She is torn about showing Hiroshi the paper. She wants him to know what's going on, and she wants to understand why, if the war in Europe is over, the US and Japan are still at war. Maybe Hiroshi will be able to explain it to her.

Sid has given Joan some leftover potatoes for Mary to take to Hiroshi and as she hands them over with some damper and a
jar of water, Hiroshi can see that Mary is shaken. He holds her briefly and she pulls back and hands him the article.

‘There's been a bomb. An atomic bomb. Lots of . . .' She starts to cry and steps back while Hiroshi reads the article.

He is only a few lines into the story before he closes his eyes, shoulders sagging. ‘My family,' he says. ‘They are not close but if there is one bomb, there will be more.' He sighs. ‘There will be many deaths. My beautiful country, the landscape . . . gone.' He tries to imagine that his own country has survived some of that devastation, but knows in his heart it won't have. How could it? The Americans have atomic bombs. How can anyone fight that?

Hiroshi becomes lost in his own misery at the thought of the destruction of Japan by the United States and Mary stands there watching the man she loves, lost in the deep hate he feels for those who have dropped the atomic bomb.

31 August 1945

A B
URNING
H
ATRED
F
OR
J
APS

It's hard for Mary not to take the headline in the
Guardian
personally. The Australians are with the Allies, but they too have caused enormous death and damage. Why weren't atomic bombs dropped on the Germans, if they were the enemy as well? She wonders if the Japanese talk about the ‘American Peril'. Mary feels betrayed by Australians, although she knows her judgement is clouded because of what she feels in her heart. But at the end of the day, no one is better than the other in the war.

Mary has taken to reading the paper just to herself and leaving it for her parents to read on their own. She has lost her interest in the shared experience, only wanting to be with Hiroshi. As well as Hiroshima, the US has dropped an atomic
bomb on Nagasaki, and Japan has surrendered at last. There was a parade down Kendal Street, celebrating the end of the hostilities. The war has come to an end and Mary knows countries will sign documents and make agreements and war reparations will be agreed upon, but she doesn't know what will happen to the Japanese soldiers still in Cowra. She's confused about everything going on around her; about her feelings, about what she should say and should not say to Hiroshi. She doesn't think he needs to know that American troops are pouring into and occupying Tokyo. He doesn't need to know that miles of Tokyo have been burned to the ground, leaving citizens living in huts on the fringes of the city. She knows the shame that surrendering must bring on Hiroshi's home country, even though she is glad that the surrender has ended the war altogether. What Mary thinks Hiroshi needs to know is that he is not alone. But he also needs to know the truth about the surrender, even if she doesn't tell him they are going ‘splendidly'!

As she walks to the bunker that night, Mary is trying to decide what she will say, even as she concedes there is no easy way.

‘The war with Japan is over,' she says to Hiroshi, but she does not smile.

Hiroshi is grinning though, and rubbing his hands together. ‘We won?' he asks, eyes sparkling with the hope that this will be something his father will be happy about.

‘Not really,' Mary answers cautiously.

‘What does that mean, Mary? “Not really.” The war is over, yes?' He nods at her for agreement, to check he heard correctly in the first instance.

‘Yes, the war is over, Hiroshi, but . . .' She takes a breath. ‘But the Japanese, they – they surrendered.'

‘Oh, no, no.' He shakes his head, ashamed for his nation, for every soldier who went to war, for the soldiers who died in the war, and the Emperor. ‘No, no, no.'

‘Hiroshi,' Mary says softly, ‘are you okay?'

He nods but says nothing. The shame of surrender has overshadowed any relief either of them may have felt that the war is finally over.