Kitchen Boy
Page 23
Nobody notices that when Kenneth straddles the mound of red earth with the other men to shovel the ritual first clods on top of the coffin, he slips a small object wrapped in paper into the soil on his spade.
Pax, J J, he thinks as it falls. Rest in peace now.
I feel a terrible grief for those who didn’t get to live their lives.
– ZBIGNIEW ZAKRZEWSKI in The Battle for Warsaw on the History Channel
In the weeks before he died, J J Kitching’s memories passed in slow procession as he lay in the compassionate haze of morphine, watching them amble past. They are gilded and decorated now like sacred elephants on an Indian feast day, embroidered hangings concealing the rough grey hides, looped and beaded fringes flopping over the knowing eyes.
The Umfolozi memories of a reed-fringed crocodile lake and thorn trees, the Pegasus pump outside the trading store where iridescent petrol bubbled up into glass cylinders, boys rolling down sawdust mountains in heat ringing with cicadas. A cobra swaying over the baby in the fig tree’s shade. Fireflies. Naartjies. Mosquito nets. His mother singing him to sleep. Victor roaring nearby.
Later in the procession come the war elephants, bringing memories of crisp uniforms and marching in an exultant brotherhood of men spoiling for a fight with a noble purpose, though persistent bats swoop in their shadows. Flying in mortal terror. Infernos of bombed buildings. Prison camps. Icy mud. A great log cabin and its treacherous loot. The gold coin smouldering in his pocket. When he whimpers, Shirley comes with the sponge, bringing oblivion. Less often, he recalls the beer days when life was bottle stores, hotel bars, shebeens, men’s talk in pubs, men’s talk in hospitality suites, basking in the prestige of being a celebrity who hands out prizes.
The rugby elephants are the most glorious, decked in green and gold with crowds cheering them on. He remembers the smells of liniment and sweat. The weight of a rugby ball in his hands. Running and jinking on springy turf to flat-dive over the line under the posts with a yell of triumph. ‘Try!’ he croaks, lifting his gaunt head. ‘Try!’
‘It’s all right, darling. I’m here,’ Shirley murmurs, settling him back on the pillow and sitting down again to stroke his trembling hand. And on they go, the memory elephants, ambling before him into the dark.
Tomorrow we go out to meet Jerry. I would as soon go up to him and throw my arms around him.
– Postcard to his sister from HOWARD CARPENDALE, 1st Battalion Rand Light Infantry, sent before he died at El Alamein while trying to save a friend
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I AM MOST GRATEFUL TO COLONEL GRAHAM DU TOIT, SAAF (retired), for generously sharing his knowledge of World War II matters after decades of research. Driven by a passion for assembling every detail about the South Africans who fought in the war, he has supplied me with copious information and photographs of air crews, planes and bombing raids, POW documents, drawings and diaries, and war and camp records. Such expert advice is a rare and invaluable resource.
Warm thanks also to: Lynda Gilfillan, matchless editor, for her immense care, professional counsel and understanding; Frederik de Jager and Fourie Botha of Umuzi, for their wholehearted support – and Fourie for his sharp eye; Peter Train for the transcription of his father Landale Train’s POW diary, written in a notebook and on scraps of paper during his more than three years as a WWII prisoner of war in Libya, Italy and Germany; Edward Griffiths for the history of South African rugby in The Captains, Jenny Crwys-Williams for A Country at War and Maxwell Leigh for the recollections of South African POWs in WWII in Captives Courageous, all of which provided crucial background material; Rowena Wilkinson, formerly of the South African War Museum, Saxonwold, Johannesburg; The Documentation Centre, Department of Defence; Alastair Walters for letters from Up North written by my uncle, Lieutenant Colin Walters, in early 1942 before he was taken prisoner at Halfaya Pass; Desi Halse for the copy of her Uncle Howard Carpendale’s postcard; John van Zyl for kind and constructive help when it was needed; Michele Magwood for the recognition and good advice; and the authors of the books from which quotes were used (see Bibliography).
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Bagshawe, Peter. Warriors of the Sky (Johannesburg: Ashanti, 1990)
The Book of Common Prayer
Callinicos, Luli. A Place in the City (Johannesburg & Cape Town: Ravan/Maskew Miller Longman, 1993)
Carr, J L. A Month in the Country (London: Penguin, 1980)
Chutter, James B. Captivity Captive (London: Jonathan Cape, 1954)
Crwys-Williams, Jennifer. A Country at War, 1939–1945 (Johannesburg: Ashanti, 1992)
Doke, C M; Malcolm, D McK; Sikakana, J M A. English–Zulu Dictionary (Johannesburg: Wits University Press, 1971)
Du Toit, Graham C L. Italian Prisoner of War Camps for Allied Personnel in Italy, 1939–1943 (self-published)
Du Toit, Graham C L. Warsaw, the Re-supply Missions, August, September & October 1944 (self-published)
Griffiths, Edward. The Captains (Johannesburg & Cape Town: Jonathan Ball, 2001)
Hobbs, Glynn B. From Sicily to the Alps (Cape Town: Mallard Publishers, 1999)
Jooste, Graham. Rugby Stories from the Platteland (Johannesburg: 30° South Publishers, 2005)
Joyce, Peter (ed.). South Africa’s Yesterdays (Cape Town: Reader’s Digest, 1981)
Leigh, Maxwell. Captives Courageous (Johannesburg: Ashanti, 1992)
Macnulty, Arthur (ed.). Medical Services in War: a medical history of World War II (H M Stationery Office)
Mthembu-Salter, Lindiwe. Call Me by My Name (Cape Town: Kwela, 2001)
Prisoners of War: British Army 1939–45. (Great Britain: J B Hayward & Son/Imperial War Museum, 1990)
Saunders, Christopher (ed.). An Illustrated History of South Africa (Johannesburg & Cape Town: Jonathan Ball, 1992)
Smuts, Isie K (‘Ouma’). Letter distributed to returned ex-POWs in 1945.
Train, Landale. The POW Diary of Landale Train, Umvoti Mounted Rifles (unpublished manuscript)
Wolhuter, S G. The Melancholy State (Cape Town: Howard Timmins, n.d.)