Enemy Camp (21 page)

Dad's at the camp this morning. He's talked to Captain Ashton the interpreter, who's been recovering from busted ribs where that stone hit him. Captain Ashton's been visiting the wounded prisoners, getting information for the inquiry. He says the shot broke a bone in Ito's arm, but that's all. We're not allowed to know where he is, but Captain Ashton has promised Dad that he'll say hello from us.

I think of our
sensei
all the time. Him and his son; what he taught us; the way he's made me see things differently. He's special. Barry and Clarry and I all want to see him again, here in New Zealand or even in Japan someday. Clarry keeps telling us how he's going to visit Japan when he's older, ‘after I've climbed Mt Egmont'.

Yeah, he's still on about that. He's getting stronger all the time; you can see it. Stronger and more annoying, like any little brother.

Will the war be over this year? I'm not sure any longer. The BBC News said last night that the Nazis are retreating in Russia and that the Japs have lost more islands in the Pacific, but I'm starting to understand that
there could be a lot of battles to come. Will we kids have to fight when we're grown up? I hope not.

The Morrises were over at their gran's for most of today. I stayed home. I had to, because some visitors arrived. They weren't visitors I was expecting.

First, there was a knock at the door around morning-tea time, just after I'd carried in some firewood for the kitchen range. I heard Mum say ‘Hello' in a surprised voice. When I heard the other voice, I didn't feel surprised. I felt amazed — and terrified. It was Miss Mutter. What had I done wrong?

Mum brought her through to the kitchen, and asked if she would like a cup of tea. Barry's speech teacher (had
he
done something wrong?) said that was very kind, and went ‘Morning, Ewen.'

I went ‘Good morning, Miss Mutter', and felt like I was a primer kid again. I didn't dare leave the room, so I sat as still as I could on the far side of the table, while Mum got some tea. Miss Mutter was in her usual black dress, black shoes, and a weird little black hat. I guess she had been to church.

‘Well, Mrs MacKenzie,' she went. ‘I'm shorry for barging in like thish, but I wanted to shay well done to you, and to Ewen. You musht be proud of him. I hope he's proud of you and Mr MacKenzie — are you, Ewen?'

Mum stared. I stared. We both mumbled something.
‘I know how you and your father have tried to make thingsh better with the prishoners, tried to do something towards ending all this hatred and ignoransh. I think Ewen and Barry and Clarence are brave young ladsh. They're a credit to you, Mrs MacKenzie.'

Mum smiled. ‘That's very nice of you. Yes, we are proud of Ewen, even if we want to box his ears sometimes. And Miss Mutter, I think
you
should feel proud of yourself, too. Taking in Mrs Sutcliffe and her children — that was so kind.'

The small, black-dressed figure gazed at the table for a second.

‘Too many good, innocent people shuffer in wars, in all shorts of ways.' I remembered how her fiancé had died in the Great War.

She looked at me. ‘Trying to undershtand other people is alwaysh good. Right, Ewen?'

‘Yeah,' I went.

Miss Mutter glared. ‘
Yesh
, not yeah! Do I have to shtart giving you shpeech lessonsh, too?'

Our second visitor arrived after lunch. Dad was back. The Swiss bloke and Captain Ashton were talking to prisoners, he said, getting evidence. Things were quiet at the camp. The civilian Japs were providing work parties. Colonel Wallace was going to hold a meeting with some of them.

We were standing outside while Mum told Dad that
when the war was over, she would really like some roses where his cauliflowers were now, and he was joking about eating chops and roses.

A car stopped outside, the front gate clicked, and Mrs Proctor came up the path.

So Mum made yet another pot of tea. Mrs Proctor also said she was sorry for barging in like this, and went on to say: ‘I've come to ask you all a favour.'

Mum and Dad looked at her. ‘I wonder if Ewen and the Morris boys would like to keep doing some Japanese lessons with me,' she continued. ‘I know it's not the best time to ask, after the terrible things that have happened, but Mr Proctor and I think Ewen and his friends were so brave, and tried so hard. We don't want them to think it was all in vain. There are people in Featherston who don't like the idea, but if you don't mind, I'm willing to help.' She gave me a smile. ‘I know Susan and Margaret enjoyed the lessons.'

They thought I was brave? Susan would like to do more lessons with me? Huh, she probably thinks she can beat me this time.

My parents were smiling, too. ‘What do you think, son?' Mum went.

I opened my mouth to say ‘Yeah', remembered Miss Mutter, and changed it to ‘Yes'. Then, before I knew I was going to say it, I said, ‘I think Lieutenant Ito would like us to.'

My dad nodded, and put his good hand on my shoulder. ‘I reckon he would, too, pal.'

I'm looking forward to those lessons. And to other things, too. Talking to Susan. (I'd
never
have believed that when I started this journal!) Reading. Growing up and being an author, maybe. Mr White is right. This is a special place and a special time. I want to remember it.

And I'll try to be dauntless. For Mum and Dad. For my friends. For Ito.

In 1942, three years after World War II started, the British Empire (including New Zealand) and the United States were at war with Germany, Italy and Japan.

The Japanese had invaded Malaya, Thailand and Burma (now Myanmar), and had captured Singapore. They also occupied many Pacific islands, invaded New Guinea, and bombed towns in northern Australia. It seemed as though New Zealand might also be attacked, so coastal defences were built, with barbed wire and concrete pillboxes.

A growing number of Japanese prisoners were brought to New Zealand. An old World War I training camp, just outside Featherston in the Wairarapa, was quickly turned into a prisoner-of-war camp. Soldiers from the Home Guard (men too old, too young or too unfit to fight overseas) provided security. At one stage, the camp held over eight hundred prisoners.

In World War II, Japanese troops believed it was shameful and cowardly to be a prisoner. Many felt it was better to die. Problems began to grow inside the Featherston camp: the sorts of problems described in this story. On 25 February 1943, after angry arguments over working parties and other issues, the Japanese prisoners charged some guards, who began shooting. About fifty
Japanese died, and many were wounded. Because of wartime secrecy, the exact numbers are unknown.

The site of the camp is now a small, quiet roadside park on State Highway 2, a few kilometres north of Featherston. On a stone are carved words from a seventeenth-century Japanese haiku:

Behold the summer grass;
All that remains
Of the dreams of warriors.

BBC
British Broadcasting Corporation — the British government radio network which broadcast news to many countries in the world

BLACKOUT CURTAINS
thick, dark curtains drawn to stop any light from shining out (in case it helped enemy planes)

BOB
a shilling (ten cents)

BONZER
really good or enjoyable

BRITISH EMPIRE
the countries once ruled by Great Britain. From around 1950, the name gradually changed to British Commonwealth

CHARLIE CHAPLIN
a famous early-twentieth-century film actor

CHOP CHOP
! hurry up!

COMPOUND
part of an army camp or prison, usually surrounded by high walls or fences

CO
commanding officer
or
conscientious objector

CORKER
really good

CROOK
sick (or broken)
or
cross
or
criminal

DIXIES
big cooking pots

DO MY/YOUR BUN
get angry

EMPIRE GAMES
since 1950 these have been called the Commonwealth Games

FLAT-OUT
very busy (or very fast)

THE GREAT WAR
also called World War I or the First War, it lasted from 1914 to 1918. Around 100,000 New Zealanders fought in the war and 18,000 were killed

GROCER
a shop (or a person working in it) like a dairy

HOME GUARD
see Historical Note

JAPS
during World War II, enemy troops were called various names: ‘Japs' and ‘Nips' for Japanese; ‘Nazis', ‘Huns' and ‘Jerries' for Germans. These names are mostly insulting and are not used now

JOKERS
men or boys

MILK MONITOR
the student responsible for handing out milk to the class. From 1937 to 1967, all primary-school children in New Zealand received free milk at school, to improve their health. Pupils took it in turns to be milk monitors, giving out the little bottles of milk and the straws to pupils

NCO
non-commissioned officer (usually a sergeant or a corporal)

NEGRO
a widely accepted term for an African-American in the 1940s

OFF-COLOUR
unwell

PILLBOXES
roofed gun emplacements made of concrete

PIPS
an officer's shoulder badges.
Also
the little ‘beeps' on a radio to announce the time (e.g. nine o'clock)

SHOUTED US
bought something for us

STROPPY
cheeky, noisy, badly behaved

TOJO
(slang) insulting name for a Japanese soldier.
Hideki Tojo was a World War II Japanese general and prime minister

TOMMY-GUN
a sub-machine-gun

TUCKER
food

UNION JACK
the flag of Great Britain. Many countries of the British Empire flew it

YANKS
(slang) Americans

My Dear Mother,

Well, I've gone and done it. I've joined the Army!

Don't be angry at me, Mother dear. I know you were glad when I wasn't chosen in the ballot. But some of my friends were, and since they will be fighting for King and Country, I want to do the same.

It's New Zealand, 1914, and the biggest war the world has known has just broken out in Europe.

William eagerly enlists for the army but his younger brother, Edmund, is a conscientious objector and refuses to fight. While William trains to be a soldier, Edmund is arrested.

Both brothers will end up on the bloody battlefields of France, but their journeys there are very different. And what they experience at the front line will challenge the beliefs that led them there.

Winner of the Best Junior Fiction and Children's Choice Junior Fiction awards, New Zealand Post Book Awards for Children and Young Adults 2013