Enemy Camp

by Hill, David

  On the way home, Clarry made feeble jokes about Barry and me having girlfriends, until Barry said he was going to undo his trolley and push him into the gutter.

  We’re having our first Japanese lesson tomorrow! ‘Keep it to yourself if you can, son,’ Dad said when he told me. ‘A few people might get upset if they hear. And we don’t want anybody thinking the Japs are turning you into spies!’

  WEDNESDAY, 6 JANUARY A woman driving a tractor waved as we biked out to the camp. Clouds covered the tops of the Tararuas. Sheep spoke to cows. Cows spoke to magpies. Magpies spoke to one another.

  I felt weird. I was riding out to see someone who might have invaded our country. I felt excited, too. And nervous: I thought of that Nip who’d hammered a nail through his arm to show how tough the prisoners were. How tough was Ito going to be on us?

  We stopped at the barrier. A guard checked our names from a list and told us to leave our bikes there. Maybe they were worried that escaped prisoners might head for Japan on two pushbikes with patched tyres?

  At the main gate, we had to show what was in our pockets. I had a clean, ironed handkerchief Mum had made me take. Barry had a comb; did he think we might meet Margaret? Clarry had nothing. After a few minutes, another guard appeared on the far side of the high barbed-wire fence. A small wire gate opened, and we stepped inside the civilian prisoner camp.

  We kept close together as we walked. A gravel path with edges of white-painted stones led between rows of small, bare wooden huts. Bigger buildings — the cookhouse? the factory? — lay off to one side. All of the huts had their doors open, and I glimpsed bunks made up with grey blankets.

  Blue uniforms were all around. They stared as we moved past. Mostly they stared at Clarry, who had kept his leg braces on.

  The Japs didn’t look unfriendly. They looked startled. I suppose it was pretty unusual: three boys in an enemy POW camp. Should I say hello to them in Japanese? But none of us spoke a word.

  A group of Nips were talking on the path ahead. They hadn’t seen us. The guard called out, and they scuttled out of the way, staring like the others as we passed. A Union Jack fluttered from a pole.

  A building with a sign: COMPOUND NO. 2: CAMP OFFICE. ‘Wait here, lads,’ the guard said, and went in. A few seconds later, he came to the door and beckoned us to follow.

  The guard knocked on a door, labelled CO, and underneath that in new letters LT COL. B J WALLACE. A voice spoke, he opened the door, saluted just like Dad had shown us, and we went in.

  A tall man with a moustache and neat hair was sitting writing something. The same one who had faced up to that bloke with the rifle a while back.

  ‘You three lads are the language students, right?’

  We all went ‘Yes’. Barry added ‘S-Sir’, and we other two followed.

  ‘Hmm.’ The colonel looked us over. ‘Now this is a trial as far as I’m concerned. I expect you to behave politely towards Lieutenant Ito. From the Japs’ point of view, he is doing us a favour. But remember, we give the orders around here. Any questions?’

  ‘No, sir,’ we said. Lieutenant Colonel Wallace nodded, and we left.

  Prisoners carrying big pots were heading towards a tap a few yards away. One stopped to gawp at us; the bloke behind thudded into him, and the pots went CLANG! I remembered those distant gongs on New Year’s Eve.

  Another hut. Three chairs and a table inside. A fourth chair in a corner. The guard pointed at the table. ‘I guess that’s you kids.’ He moved towards the corner, unslinging his rifle. ‘And this is for me. So you’re here to learn their lingo, eh? Why d’you—’ The door opened, and Lieutenant Ito stepped in, another guard behind him.

  We three kids stood up. Nobody told us to; it just felt right. Ito walked to the front of the little room and faced us. His burn marks had vanished. I had never seen him close up before. He looked a bit younger than Dad. He looked fit, too. And clever, somehow.

  ‘You right, Clem?’ the second guard asked our one. ‘I’ll be back for Mr Teacher later.’ He turned to Ito. ‘You’ve got an hour, OK, mate?’

  Ito took no notice. He kept gazing straight at us. I made myself look back at him. When the door closed, he spoke quietly. ‘When a teacher comes, a pupil should bow head. You do this now.’

  From his chair, our guard gave a half-snort. Ito ignored him, too. Barry and Clarry bowed; I did the same.

  ‘Sit.’ We sat. Ito shook his head. ‘Not flop. Sit. Knees together, back straight, hands by side. This is proper for pupil.’

  ‘I can’t keep my knees together.’ Clarry’s voice.

  Ito’s dark eyes switched to him and his leg braces. A moment’s silence, then: ‘You will do your best.’ Our Japanese lesson began.

  There was no chalk, no blackboard, no books. Ito kept standing, hands relaxed, body and face calm. He gave us words in Japanese, told us their meaning, made us repeat them over and over until he was satisfied.

  Our pronunciation had to be perfect. So did our manners. The first time he asked Barry to repeat a word — arigato, meaning ‘thank you’ — and my friend began to pronounce it, Ito lifted one hand. ‘A pupil will stand to speak to teacher.’

  Another half-snort from the guard sitting in the corner. But Barry stood straightaway. We all did when it was our turn, Clarry levering himself up with his hands on the table. After all, we stand at school if we’re reading or reciting something aloud.

  I won’t put down all the words we learned (I bet Barry learned more than me), but I like arigato, and sensei, meaning ‘teacher’. Ito told us other things, too. Don’t stare at your teacher or anyone else superior (third snort from guard). Sit as still as you can. ‘Calm body is calm mind.’

  The hour went fast. I felt surprised when the other guard came back into the hut. Ito said to us: ‘The lesson finishes. You will bow to teacher.’ The three of us did.

  The guard who had come for Ito muttered to the other, ‘Thinks he’s such a big noise, doesn’t he?’ in a voice we were meant to hear.

  Instantly, Clarry said, ‘Arigato, sensei. Thank you, teacher.’ Barry and I repeated it.

  As Ito was led from the room, Clarry asked, ‘Does your son speak English?’ The Japanese officer walked straight past as if he hadn’t heard. Clarry’s cheeks turned pink.

  Our guard took us back through the compound. Fewer prisoners were around now. Ahead of us, a working party with hoes and rakes filed towards the main gates. A car passing on the road blasted its horn, and voices yelled at them. I remembered those blokes shouting from the truck a few weeks back.

  A different guard stood by the barrier with our bikes. He said nothing; just watched us head off. A few people didn’t seem happy with the idea of us having anything to do with the Japs, alright.

  THURSDAY, 7 JANUARY Rained all day. We did more clearing out at Tak Yee’s in the morning. I finished The Poison Belt in the afternoon. (People don’t die after all; they’re just unconscious.)

  Barry hardly stammered at all while he was saying the Japanese words yesterday. Maybe Miss Mutter is right.

  FRIDAY, 8 JANUARY I’m running out of pages in this journal. Never thought I’d find so much to write about. I’ll ask Dad if he can get another army notebook. Or maybe I can write smaller!

  Barry had his first speech lesson with Miss Mutter this morning. Clarry and I rode part of the way with him. Then we called out ‘Nice to have known you!’ and ‘I’ll put flowers on your grave!’ as I towed Clarry away.

  We were heading down Fitzherbert Street, Clarry giving orders from behind, when a voice called out: ‘Boys? Here a moment, please.’ Mrs Connell was outside her dress shop, cleaning the windows.

  ‘I hear you’re going out to the camp for Japanese lessons,’ she went. ‘Why?’

  I mumbled something about how it might help us understand the Japs, and them understand us. Mrs Connell had her lips pressed together. ‘They’re a nasty, evil lot. Why should we have to understand them when we’re already wasting time and money feeding their yellow faces?’ />
  I remembered her stomping down to school to complain about Susan’s morning talk. I didn’t know what to say. Clarry went, ‘I liked the first lesson. He’s a good teacher. I have to go home, Ewen.’ So we set off, while Mrs Connell shouted, ‘They’re lucky we’ve kept them alive!’

  We stopped at the library. Someone has brought back another Professor Challenger book, The Land of Mist. I took it straightaway. I hope it will help my own writing.

  I hung around at the Morrises’ until Barry got back. ‘Hey, you’re still alive!’ I went. He didn’t say much about the speech lesson, except how Miss Mutter had told him to relax his shoulders and chest when he spoke, and to take his time between words.

  ‘What was she like?’ I asked.

  My friend shrugged. ‘Alright. She’s got lots of b-books. And there are certificates on the walls for speech t-training.’ I realised he was talking slowly, and taking deep breaths.

  ‘You sound better,’ Clarry told him, and he shrugged again.

  School baths after lunch. Mr White sat reading at one end; he lifted a hand as we came in. I wondered if the girls would show up again, but they didn’t. Anzac and Terry arrived instead. They started doing big belly-flops at one end, sending water flying. Mr White looked up from his book, spoke very quietly, and they stopped.

  ‘Is Moana still seeing that Yank?’ I asked Anzac, while we sat on the edge of the pool.

  He stared into the water. ‘Rick’s shipping out soon. Most of them are. They’re going to attack more of the islands the Nips invaded. It’s supposed to be secret, but everyone knows.’

  He sat silently for a moment. ‘Moana and Rick are gonna get engaged when he comes back. She might even go to live in America with him after the war.’

  ‘My old man knows someone at work whose daughter’s the same,’ Terry went. ‘She’s scared stiff what might happen to her boyfriend. The Japs fight like crazy.’

  We had a chat with Mr White before we left. When we told him about our Japanese lessons, he smiled. ‘Excellent. The more we comprehend one another, the better.’ I wish Mrs Connell could hear him.

  At tea, Dad told us: ‘Bruce had to take Ito across to the CO today. The Japanese want to put on a play of some sort, would you believe?’

  I’m supposed to be writing less in this journal!

  SATURDAY, 9 JANUARY Barry had his second speech lesson at Miss Mutter’s. Clarry had another session with wet cloths on his legs. I read The Land of Mist. It’s boring! All about contacting spirits. I’ll have to wait until Monday to get something better. Wish libraries opened at weekends.

  Our second Japanese lesson tomorrow.

  SUNDAY, 10 JANUARY I don’t need to write less in my journal after all. Dad said at breakfast: ‘You still using that notebook I gave you, son? Two more boxes of them arrived from Wellington, and Bruce says there’s no room. Typical army: either not enough or too much. Bruce reckons we should give them to the Nips for their poetry-writing.’

  We all rode out to camp again. Barry is talking differently, alright. He stops if he begins to stammer, takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly while his body relaxes, then tries again. He still stutters, but not as much.

  ‘Miss Mutter t-tells’ (deep breath) ‘me off if I d-don’t’ (breath) ‘try p-properly,’ he told us; ‘Goes “Lishten, boy! Lishten!”’

  ‘She’s lucky to be alive, from what I’ve heard.’ Dad spoke while he biked on. ‘Had this huge cancer taken out of her jaw years back. Tough old bird.’ I suppose that’s why she talks funny and can’t wear dentures.

  ‘Her house is all d-dark and quiet,’ Barry went. ‘You c-can hear a clock t-t-’ (really slow breath) ‘ticking.’

  Dad took us past the guard at the barrier and left us at the main gate. ‘Got to fetch some nails for the next part of the factory block. We even have to count the nails, would you believe? They’re sharp and they’re metal — can’t be too careful.’

  A different guard took us through the small wire gate and along the gravel path. A lot more civvie prisoners were around today, talking in groups, sweeping out their huts, washing dishes. Some sat at a table while others looked on, moving counters on a wooden board. Must be that game Dad had mentioned. Stop, was it? No: Go!

  They all watched as we passed. Clarry, robot-walking in his braces, went ‘Konnichiwa’ to them. Some Nips nodded; some said ‘Konnichiwa’ back; a couple smiled at him.

  So Barry and I started greeting them, too. Finally, the guard went ‘That’s enough’, and we stopped, but the nods and half-smiles continued.

  Another, older guard was outside Thursday’s hut, a slim figure beside him. Without even needing to think, all three of us bowed and said, ‘Konnichiwa, sensei’. A murmuring came from prisoners nearby; they sounded pleased. ‘Hi,’ voices said. So they did speak some English after all.

  Our second lesson was like the first. Ito stood relaxed but unmoving at the front; we stood to repeat words; he made us re-repeat and re-re-repeat until he was satisfied. We learned new words. (I like ‘mother’ and ‘father’; they are ‘okaasan’ and ‘otousan’.) We learned some numbers.

  After Barry had counted to twenty, taking breaths and only stammering two or three times, while Ito watched him calmly, our new teacher said, ‘Lesson is finished. Show respect to teacher.’

  We stood, bowed, went ‘Arigato, sensei’. From the corner, where he had sat silently, our guard went, ‘I learned a few things, too.’ He nodded to Ito: ‘Better wait until your escort comes, pal.’

  The Japanese officer gazed at us. ‘You have questions?’ He raised a hand before we could speak. ‘First, I will ask you. What are your names again?’

  We stood one at a time, and told him, while he repeated them. He had trouble with ‘Clarry’, pronounced it ‘Crarry’. But he speaks English a million times better than we speak Japanese.

  ‘Sensei?’ Clarry asked then. ‘Your son — Haru — does he speak English?’

  ‘It is not allowed to speak English in our country now,’ Ito told him. ‘Except to help us win the war.’ He said it so calmly that we all stared. The guard shifted in his seat.

  I stood. ‘Sensei? What does “hi” mean in Japanese? The pris— the people said it when we bowed to you outside.’

  Our teacher gave a tiny nod. ‘The word is “hai”. It means “yes” or “agree”. You will say it properly: “hai”.’ We said it about seven times, until he was satisfied. ‘They are pleased you show respect to me. In Japan, respect is very important. You show respect to your parents?’

  The door opened, and his guard appeared, which saved us from having to tell him the ugly truth. I had one more question. ‘Sensei? My father says you will be acting a play. What is it about?’

  ‘No play,’ went Ito. I blinked. But Dad had said …

  The Jap officer and Kiwi guard left the hut. Our guard led us back to the gates, while prisoners watched, and we got a few more nods and smiles. ‘That was a bit different, eh, lads? You did well.’

  Yeah, I thought as we rode home. We’re helping. We’re doing well.

  I told Mum about Barry and Miss Mutter’s speech lessons. Mum smiled. ‘She’s turning out to be the Good Fairy.’ I tried to imagine Miss Mutter with a wand and a shining crown, but I couldn’t.

  To the school baths in the afternoon. And — I’m still trying to believe this — I spent most of the time talking to Susan Proctor.

  MONDAY, 11 JANUARY Just three weeks from now, we’ll be back at school. The holidays go so fast!

  I’d better write about yesterday at the baths — I’m still trying to believe it. Susan and Margaret were there when we arrived. They sat on the edge while we jumped in. (Have you noticed how girls hardly ever do bombs or belly-flops or fun things in the baths? They’re always worrying about getting their hair wet!)

  Susan wore blue togs and a white bathing cap. Her eyes are blue, too; I couldn’t help noticing while I talked to her. Barry began saying something to Margaret; I heard him speaking slowly and taking breaths. />
  Susan is quite sensible to talk to, after all. She asked about Castlepoint, and told me that she was too scared to go right along the path to the lighthouse. She said her holidays were boring; they can’t go anywhere because her father needs all the petrol for his tractor. ‘Daddy says—’ She stopped and looked embarrassed. ‘I’m trying not to call him “Daddy”. It sounds babyish.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ I went. I didn’t say that I’d called my mother ‘Mummy’ when I was little.

  We talked about what a good teacher Mr White is, and who we might get in Standard Six this year. She knows about Barry’s speech lessons. (How come girls always pick up gossip?) She glanced at where he was talking carefully to Margaret, and smiled at me. I half-smiled back, before I realised what I was doing.

  Clarry was showing off in the water. ‘He’s brave,’ Susan said. ‘I like the way you and Barry take him places.’

  ‘We’ve been going out to the POW camp.’ I tried to make it sound important. ‘We’re having Japanese lessons from one of their officers.’

  Susan nodded. ‘I know. Captain Ashton the interpreter comes and talks about things with Mum sometimes.’

  So the Proctors are so important that even camp officers come to see them? But I just said, ‘A bit weird they wouldn’t let your mother help at the camp.’

  Susan shook her head. ‘Dadd— Dad’s pleased. He says things could turn violent there at any time. Are you being careful?’

  ‘It’s OK,’ I said, and felt tough. So yeah, I talked to Susan Proctor. Amazing.

  Anyway, that was yesterday. This morning, we finished tidying up Tak Yee’s sheds. I found more old newspapers. JUNE 26, 1936: FIRST CONTROLLED HELICOPTER FLIES … AUGUST 28, 1937: JAPANESE TROOPS CONTINUE ATTACKING SHANGHAI.

  We finished quite quickly. Mr Yee gave us another sixpence each, and a bag of apples. ‘Good workers.’ He grinned.