Enemy Camp (17 page)

FRIDAY, 12 FEBRUARY Nothing.

SATURDAY, 13 FEBRUARY I biked out to the camp. It felt strange, having nobody to talk to — except myself, and you might get locked up if you do that.

Barry and Clarry were at home. They had Friday off school, the lucky … people. I went around to see them before I headed for the camp, and they were both in a dirty mood because they reckoned they were well enough to come with me.

Dad's friend Bruce led me into the camp. ‘You lads really are doing a good job coming here.'

He didn't take me to the usual hut, but to a bigger
one a couple of buildings away. After a minute, Ito came in, with the other officer I'd seen around the camp, and half a dozen more Japs behind. NCOs or something, I guessed. Armed guards filed in as well.

The other officer looked hard at me. I bowed to Ito, and then I bowed to him. It just seemed the right thing to do. He looked a bit friendlier, and nodded.

‘Where are the two?' Ito looked annoyed.

‘They have been sick,' I told him.

He watched me. ‘The same sick?' he asked. I must have looked blank, because he added: ‘The leg sick?'

‘No. Crook-guts sick.' Now he looked blank. I held my stomach and pretended to spew up. The Japs stared. The guards grinned.

Ito nodded, then turned to the nearest guard, a bloke with two corporal's stripes. ‘You do not need.' He pointed to the rifles and bayonets. ‘We have given our word of honour.'

The corporal shrugged. ‘Colonel's orders, chum.' Ito said something, and the other Nip officer glared.

The door opened again. Captain Ashton and Colonel Wallace entered. Captain Ashton nodded to me; Colonel Wallace ignored me. More New Zealand officers came in; the place was getting crowded.

The two Jap officers waited until ours were seated, then sat also. Their NCOs stayed standing. A pause, then five Nips glided into the room. They wore long
black robes, and they all had a white cloth band around their foreheads. They faced us, bowed very low, and the play began.

There were slow, flowing movements, times when everyone was as still as statues, sudden sweeps across the room. I don't know what the story was about, but you could tell that there was sadness, and then happiness at the end. I watched and tried to remember everything.

I watched the audience, too. Ito sat absolutely straight on his chair. His face was calm, almost dreamy. The other Japs were the same, eyes focused but faraway.

The New Zealand officers and guards looked puzzled at first; then I could see them being drawn in as the robed figures moved and bent. Here were these people who had been killing one another, in a room where rifles and bayonets were ready to kill again, and they were all sitting there, caught up in a story.

There was a moment's stillness when it ended. Then Captain Ashton began to clap, and the other New Zealanders followed, Colonel Wallace last. The actors bowed, first to their own officers, then to ours. The Japs didn't smile, but they nodded to one another.

Colonel Wallace didn't stay, but Captain Ashton did. He spoke in Japanese to the enemy officers, who nodded once again, then to the actors, who bowed a second time. They still didn't smile, but you could tell they were pleased by what he said.

I began following the others out. A voice said, ‘Oon?' Our
sensei
. ‘You will tell the mother and father,' he went. ‘Yours. Barry and Crarry's. You will tell them a son is dear. Is precious. You will be good men.' He walked out, the guards following him.

I couldn't wait to tell Barry and Clarry that they were precious. It was strange, though. Ito had spoken as though he wasn't sure whether he would be seeing us again. We would be coming for more lessons, surely? Yeah, it was strange.

SUNDAY, 14 FEBRUARY Barry and Clarry are both OK. I described the Noh play, and Clarry went, ‘Alright. No need to show off, just because you were there.'

I told Mrs Morris what Ito had said about sons being dear and precious. (I told my parents last night: Mum went ‘How can someone like that be an enemy!' Dad went ‘You're dear alright, son. You've cost us a few bob!' and ruffled my hair.) Mrs Morris looked thrilled to bits. We played Sink the German Navy; Barry and I kept going ‘Your turn, precious Clarry', until he threatened to whack us.

I was walking home when I saw Mrs Sutcliffe crossing the end of the street, with her two kids. And with Miss Mutter. On their way to church, I supposed.

They didn't see me. Miss Mutter was talking to the smaller kid. Probably telling it ‘Shtand shtraight. Be shenshible.' As I watched, something happened to her face. She's having a fit, I thought. Then I realised: she was smiling.

I read all afternoon. It's part of being an author, I reckon. I have a book that Bruce thought I might like, called
We Didn't Mean to Go to Sea
, about kids in England who are keen on sailing, and look after a yacht that accidentally drifts away. Pretty good.

The BBC News says the British and Yank bombers are destroying lots of Nazi factories. That's pretty good, too.

I lay in bed, thinking about yesterday's play, and what Ito had said. I guess he hopes it won't be long until the war is over and he sees his own son again. That's … That's
very
good.

MONDAY, 15 FEBRUARY Clarry was still complaining about missing the Noh play. To shut him up, I told him and Barry about seeing Miss Mutter smiling yesterday.

‘You sure she wasn't snarling?' Clarry asked.

At morning playtime, Susan came up to me. ‘Mum wonders if you want to come to our place for some extra Japanese lessons. She said Lieutenant Ito and the others
might be pleased to think you were really serious about it; it would show respect for Japanese ways. Barry, too, of course. Oh, and Margaret wants to come, don't you, Margaret? This Saturday, maybe?'

Margaret and Barry were listening. When I glanced at them, they had both turned pink.

The Morris kids went to their gran after school. I biked carefully home; my back tyre is nearly worn out. Me going to the Proctor place! A couple of months back, I'd have imagined it was a dream. Or a nightmare.

TUESDAY, 16 FEBRUARY Dad talked some more about the camp last night. Colonel Wallace isn't just worried about trouble with the prisoners. He's worried what might happen to our blokes in Jap POW camps overseas if things go wrong here and the Nips learn of it, so he's trying to keep things really tight.

I told my parents what Susan had said about the extra Japanese lessons, and I caught them giving a quick smile to each other.

‘Good idea, son,' Dad said. ‘Say thank you to Mrs Proctor, and make sure you're polite to
all
of them. Some people think they're better than others just because they've got more money, but you—'

‘I am sure the Proctors mean well, Jack,' Mum went.
‘Saturday, is it, Ewen? I'll make sure your good white shirt is ironed.'

Aw no! Did I have to wear good clothes? Barry and Clarry would laugh their heads off.

Then the first thing Clarry said this morning was, ‘Mum says it's fine for us to go to the Proctors', but we have to wear our good clothes! Would you believe it?'

When I told Susan, she smiled. ‘That's good, Ewen. Dad says he can give you all a lift. He's coming into town to get some things.'

A ride in the Proctors' flash car. Great!

WEDNESDAY, 17 FEBRUARY Nothing.

THURSDAY, 18 FEBRUARY The good news is that Ito wants us to come for a lesson on Sunday. That's the day after we go to the Proctors', so we might have some new words for him.

The bad news is what Barry told me yesterday at school. He was quiet all morning, then at lunchtime he began saying how his father had been down at the pub after his train-driving on Tuesday, and got talking to some blokes who are guards at the camp. When Mr Morris came home, he told Mrs Morris how some of
those Nips were looking for trouble, and it would serve the ugly little yellow sods right if they got more than they expected. Barry said his mother was trying to shut Mr Morris up, but the boys could hear from their room. My best friend's stammer got bad again as he described it.

The BBC News at nine o'clock says the Russians have captured a big town from the Nazis. Hurray! I've finished
We Didn't Mean to Go to Sea
: I wonder if Bruce has any more. Dad says his friend reads to some of the civilian prisoners, to teach them English. So he's helping people understand and respect one another, too. I want Ito to be able to tell the other prisoners that we're doing that as well.

FRIDAY, 19 FEBRUARY Today Mr White asked whether any of us had kept writing our journals over the holidays. One hand went up. Mine. Our teacher said, ‘Perhaps we could recommence next week. As I said, these are special times.' I wonder if I'm the only one who wants to be an author, too.

There's a film at the town hall tomorrow night, and Mum says we'll try to go. It'll be easy with the streetlights on. Last night there were cars going up our street with their headlights shining, not shaded like they had to be
in the blackout. It all shows that the war should be over soon. I hope the Japs understand that.

And we're going for a picnic out at the river on Sunday. Us and the Morrises. Our two mothers have been arranging it. They say it's time we had one, and anyway this year is going to get better and better. Yeah!

Nothing else happened at school. Susan said, ‘See you tomorrow. Dad will pick you up about ten o'clock.' I saw this silly smile on Barry's face. I kept thinking: I'm going to Susan Proctor's! I'm going to ride in that big flash car!

The Morrises came over to play cards at night. Mr Morris didn't say anything about the Japs. We three kids spent most of the time in my room. Clarry suddenly said, ‘Do you two
like
girls?'

I didn't look at Barry. He didn't look at me. Just then, Mum called out that supper was ready. Phew.

SATURDAY, 20 FEBRUARY Mr Proctor didn't pick us up in his big flash car after all.

Dad left for camp early. There are still talks going on with the Japs about work parties. Everyone agrees that prisoners of war shouldn't have to do things that might help the enemy's armies, like working in weapons factories. Making a vegetable garden is OK. Repairing roads where army trucks might travel? Dad says that's
what Colonel Wallace and Ito are arguing about.

I went around to the Morrises, wearing my good white shirt and clean roman sandals, and feeling embarrassed. Clarry and Barry had good shoes and socks, and their hair brushed and combed. We pulled faces at one another.

Clarry wasn't wearing his leg braces. ‘Mum said if I did extra exercises this morning, I could leave them off while we are at the Proctors'. So I did extra,
extra
exercises!'

A car engine outside. A big one. A knock at the Morrises' front door, and Mr Proctor was there. We three followed him out to the footpath and his car.

His car wasn't there. Instead, a big farm truck stood waiting. I thought of the special ride I'd been waiting for.

‘Had to deliver a few swedes and turnips,' Susan's father told us. ‘Hop in.'

We all crammed onto the front bench seat. Mr Proctor is a burly guy, like I said, but we managed. ‘Everyone breathe in together.' He chuckled.

We were way up high, and I could see into people's front yards and right across the paddocks outside town. After fifteen minutes or so, we turned into a long driveway. Tall trees rose on both sides. Around a corner, and there was a big white house with an orange roof.

Margaret and Susan came out onto the front steps.
I counted them — the steps, not the girls. There were four, leading up to the door. The house looked like those you see in books about England.

Susan had a blue dress; Margaret had a yellow one. Suddenly, I felt pleased I was wearing my good shirt. We went inside, into a big, high hall with pictures and doors along it. Clarry's mouth hung open; I was staring, too.

Mrs Proctor appeared, tall and smiling, in the sort of frock that Mum wears only when she's going out. She asked whether we'd like some lemonade, and took us and the girls into an enormous kitchen — they have a refrigerator! — and poured us a drink. Mum's lemonade tastes better, but I didn't say so.

‘Let's go into the library.' They had a library? She led us down the hall to a room with windows as high as our house, big brown armchairs, and a wall full of books. A whole wall! I kept staring at them, trying to see what they were.

Mrs Proctor knows a lot about what's happening at the camp. She mentioned Ito; we blokes said what a good teacher he is.

‘I thought we might talk about
bushido
,' she said. ‘It is the way of behaving that soldiers like Lieutenant Ito are taught.'

She made it really interesting.
Bushido
started with ancient Japanese warriors, men called
samurai
. They had to be brave, to die for their country if they needed
to, to never surrender unless their Emperor ordered. They were also supposed to be kind to women and children, and stay loyal to their comrades. That last one was really important, Mrs Proctor said.

She taught us words about being a
samurai
, listened to us pronounce them, made us say them again. It was like Ito's lessons, except we didn't have to stand and bow. Instead, we sat in the big comfortable armchairs.

The girls listened hard, and Margaret was good with the Japanese words. Susan made a few mistakes, and I could tell she was annoyed. One time when she got some right, her mother said, ‘Good, sweetheart.' Susan glanced at me and went pink.

‘You boys know a lot already,' Mrs Proctor told us. I didn't mind the girls hearing that.

We talked about the camp. You could tell that Susan's mother didn't like the idea of pictures of King George VI being put up in the Nips' huts, but she was polite.

‘You boys are really helping. You're brave young men.' I didn't mind the girls hearing that, either.