Three Came Home

by Agnes Newton Keith

  A thirty-foot solid wooden fence surrounded two sides ofour compound, and shut off all view save what we saw throughthe crack. This high, impenetrable barrier standing close toour living quarters, the first and last thing we saw every morn-inv and nivht. nearlv drove us mad. Once a high wind from

  the ocean started to blow the thing down: seeing it quiverand lean with the gale, five of us raced outside in the rain andthe thunder, and joined our forces to that of the storm. Witheach gust of the wind we threw ourselves against the fence andpushed mightily, and in the ecstasy and excitement we got ithalfway over; it was going, it was really tumbling, and wescreamed with the wind and the joy.

  But the guard who was hiding from the storm in the sentrybox outside looked up in time to see the fence toppling overon him. He raced into camp, came upon our mad behinds,bodies drenched in rain, hair blowing and wild, voices singingand shouting and screaming, women gone mad. He didn’t likeit a bit.

  He called the guards and a lot of our men, and they proppedthe fence up again from the other side. Then he came in toattend to us. We could see him trying to make up his mindwhat to do. He was one of the gentler ones that didn’t go infor corporal punishment, and that left him at a disadvantage.He said that no one in camp could go for a walk that day, orthe next day. As it was pouring rain that day, and the guardwas due to change the next day, we didn’t care.

  The women who hadn’t pushed the fence down becamevery sanctimonious and smug about our irresponsible attitudetowards getting the camp into trouble. Mrs. X, who was abom bootlicker, told the guard that we were very naughty,and for this she received an egg from him. But we had the fun,which was even more scarce than eggs. Looking back at thisincident, I see that the noteworthy part of it is that we had theenergy to push anything.

  The other two sides of the compound had a fence made ofmany strands of heavy barbed wire. Through this we couldcatch glimpses of the sea. The combination of the toweringwall on two sides and the barbed-wire barricade on the othersides was a bad one for claustrophobia victims. The blank wallleaned over us, driving us toward the barbed wire, which, withits vision seaward, gave the illusion of being an escape. Various

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  women at rarious times threw themselves frantically on thebarbed wire in frenzied efForts to get away from the inexora-ble, down-pressing wall. One woman in particular, time andagain, would fling herself upon the sharp barbed wire, claw-ing at it with her bare hands, leaning on it and tearing at itwith her arms and body, weeping and screaming, until she wascovered wtith blood. Try though she did, and we did, it wasimpossible to keep her away. During these months on Berhalaher hands were constantly covered wdth fresh and festeringbarbed-wire sores.

  There were two Chinese women in camp, Shihping Cho,and Mrs. Li, the wife of the Assistant in the Consulate, bothof whom were imprisoned because their husbands had re-mained loyal to the Republic of China. Whenever Japanesegenerals shed their occasional passing glory on us, they boggledat the sight of these two Chinese women held captive with us,two Asiatics made literal slaves, in the sphere of vaunted pros-perity for the Asiatics.

  I sympathized with these two, who not only had our hard-ships to put up with, but had us to put up with as a race offoreigners. Shihping was attractive, with the peculiarly sleekcharm and beautifully made figure of the well-bred modernChinese woman, who can wear either European or Chinese,clothing equally well. She was intelligent and well-educated,with a degree from a Western university in China, spoke per-fect idiomatic English, and never missed a joke in any lan-guage. She took the long view of captivity, and where I wasconstantly being astounded by things that happened, Shihpinghad always expected and prepared for them.

  From the day the Japanese landed at Sandakan, ShihpingCho, her children — Edith, three years, and Eddie, four months— and her husband, Henry Cho, were held captive in close im-prisonment. From the first, the Japanese tried to force Mr. Choto renounce his allegiance to the Republic of China and joinwith the Nanking Government, feeling that such a changewould have influence on the local Asiatics.

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  While I was still living at my home in Sandakan, I had re-ceived a secret message from Mrs. Cho, a prisoner in the Con-sulate then, asking me to try to get some powdered milk andbaby clothes for Eddie. Although the milk supplies had beenbought up in Sandakan many months before, I was able bybribery and corruption to obtain some for her secretly through

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  Three Came Home

  some small shops. The milk and clothing I smuggled to her atthe Consulate, under the nose of the Japanese guards.

  When we met again on Berhala she thanked me for my helpto her, and said that she hoped she could help me, in return.In due time I was to find that throughout all camp life shehelped me, returning one hundred to every one, sharing withme food, clothing, and assistance, giving me sympathy when Iwas distressed, amusement when I was bored, and strengthen-ing my spirit to meet emergencies by the courage of herexample.

  Mrs. Cho told me the story of the first months of imprison-ment in the Consulate. The Consul was warned that the fivesof his wife and children would be taken if he did not betraythe Republic. She was told that her husband would be killedif he did not go over to the Nanking Government. They wereboth promised their freedom, and good living conditions forthemselves and the children, if they did. Neither one of themwavered; they resisted all forms of physical and mental pres-sure, and bribery, and remained loyal to the Republic.

  When Shihping was imprisoned with us on Berhala, Mr.Cho was locked up with our husbands.

  Mrs. Cho was George’s first love, for in time he discoveredthat there were other human beings in the strange world that,he could rely on beside me. Mrs. Cho was always courteousand dignified with children, self-controlled in every emer-gency, excitable over trifles. George would stand and talk withher in Cantonese, which he had learned from Ah Yin, longbefore he would talk to other women in English.

  Violet and Penelope he learned to regard as his own, al-though Penelope was so popular with all children that eachone claimed her as his property. She had a tender heart towardschildren which caused her to be nice to the nice ones, becausethey were sweet, and nice to the nasty ones, because theyweren’t. It was wonderful for the children, but had a denud-ing effect upon Penelope, because when birthdays and anni-versaries came she was always cutting up her clothes and

  Strange Nursery S 5

  making them into gifts for the children. If the war had lastedmuch longer Penelope would have swept out of camp in afringed banana leaf.

  Violet had a wonderful game that she played with George— and how I loved that game! It was called the mouse game;he played it by lying down at her side and sucking his thumb,with his big gray eyes on her, while Violet counted quietlyout loud to see how long he could lie still, and who wouldtalk first, he or she. The mouse game was only good for alimited time, then Violet would start the alternative game,which George would have played forever; this consisted inhaving Violet sing to him. This game was conceived as a meansof putting George to sleep, but he liked Violet’s songs so muchthat he refused to go to sleep while she sang. The game alSFectedme in the same way, and I used to think that if only she wouldgo on singing the Cradle Song forever I could become a niceperson again.

  On the island there were no officers in charge, and the eightguards were changed once a week. During the week they hadcomplete power over us. To them island duty was a vacation;the lads relaxed in loincloths most of the time, bathing, doingacrobatics, throwing things at prisoners, picking their noses,beating up people, distributing largesse, or lolling in the wom-en’s barrack playing footsy-footsy.

  Our barrack was one big room with a loft above it, and nopartitions. Each person occupied about five square feet. If theguard wanted to occupy it with you, there wasn’t much youcould do except roll over. Not that the guards spent all theirtime lying down near us; a lot of the time they were drunkin the guardhouse.

  Some of it was good clean fun, and boys will b
e boys. Butsometimes boys are dirty boys, and one doesn’t like beingfrisked, frolicked, bullied, chased, back-slapped or face-slapped, by a young man with a gun. The gun removes theelement of lighthearted gaiety from the game.

  Because there were buns, rice, and privileges to be had fromtolerating and encouraging the guards, and no means withwhich to discourage them, the fact that they treated us liketarts was sometimes justified. One good argument against col-laborating was the fact that the guards had bedbugs.

  They were not sadistic, or masochistic; they were not Orien-tal, or Occidental; they were just a gang of lowdown younghoodlums who had complete power over a hundred peoplewho could not strike back.

  Once a week a worn-out ofEcer arrived in a worn-outmotorboat, and both made a loud noise coming. He searchedthe guards, and us, with equal suspicion. Warned by the motor,the guards could just get their pants on in time to reach thewharf’s end and stand at attention. We could just get ourforbidden diaries, books, and food hidden in the grass and thelatrines. When the officer departed, everybody relaxed.

  Life on Berhala was according to the whims of the guards— and they were whimsical. They could be very kind. Oneguard gave his own buns to the children daily, another dis-tributed loaves of bread to them. They frequently fed us theirown surplus, commenting that our food was terrible. Some-times they let us meet our husbands openly, and sometimesthey beat us for smiling at them secretly.

  The first guard we had in Berhala made a speech to us afterone week, on the eve of their departure. Before making it, theydictated their sentiments to me in broken English and toldme to vrate them out in “literary” style. The result of oureffort was this:

  Gentlemen, Ladies, and Women: Nipponese soldiers arevery kindly. We will pray for your health until we meet again.Tomorrow we go back to Sandakan. We are very sorry for you.However, if you get conceited we wiU knock you down, beatyou, kick you, and kill you.

  I suggested that the last sentence was a trifle harsh, but theywere particularly attached to it.

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  We lived at high tragedy level because we expected releaseto come, the war to end, or ourselves to be dead, quite quickly.We could not conceive of living in these conditions for years.So we ate up extra food, used up what drugs we had, spentour energy lavishly, and took desperate chances, smugglingthrough the approachable guards, escaping camp through thebarbed wire at night, and keeping contact with the POWs inSandakan. Later we stiU. took desperate chances, but for thereason a gambler gambles — because it was the only pleasurewe had in life.

  We mustered at 7 a.m. and 7 p.m, daily in the compound.We stood at attention, numbered off in Japanese, bowed, andwere dismissed. Our military style was ragged due to babes inarms and underfoot. If the guard felt wakeful, they wouldmuster us several times throughout the night. When they be-gan to suspect that people were going AWOL through thebarbed wire, life was made hideous with surprise musters. Butno culprit was ever caught that way: a system of false answerswas evolved which covered absences.

  Sometimes we were ordered to clean the guardhouse, whileguards lay asleep or drunk on their beds. We picked up dirtand fruit skins and cigarette butts off the floor with our hands,while the guards threw banana skins and empty bottles at us.But we could usually steal enough to make it worth while.Sometimes they ordered us to “massage” them, but this weavoided by being stupid and misunderstanding.

  One guard made us sweep the beach daily with bamboobrooms. As seaweed and driftwood piled high with each tide,there was always plenty to do. Several times Mrs. Cho and Iwere given the task of dusting the entire length of the wharfwith our handkerchiefs and hands. We did it, and laughed.

  We were frequently turned out to cut the long wild grassin the ground outside the compound. We could choose ourweapons: our own small scissors, or hands. The grass dulled

  the scissors, and cut our hands. We cleaned the road leadingfrom camp to the wharf by picking up stones and gravel byhand before the officers’ arrival. Thus we learned the joy ofmanual labor.

  If we were good girls while working, and a few fainted, anda few wept, we were rewarded by buns or bananas tossed tous. If we were naughty girls and laughed, or practised dumbinsolence, we went hungry to bed.

  It was impossible to keep either our surroundings or our-selves clean on Berhala. The compound was a swampy morassfrom rain, with a few duckboards which sank into the mud,and a lot of children who did. Our Government House babies,smartly clean, with starched amahs, became unrecognizablein the mire of internment. Here, doing very dirty work, chop-ping our own fuel, mending the broken barrack, working ashired men for the guards, clearing and road mending, weceased to be the ladies of Sandakan. The mothers with chil-dren kept small campfires going to recook their food in theeffort to make it more edible for the children; we were alwayssmoke-grimed ourselves, and our clothing was hung out todry in the campfire smoke.

  Washing facilities were limited. The water was piped into atank three feet by three feet by six feet, which stood inside asmall shelter. The tank was used as a reservoir, and from it wedipped out water for bathing and washing, using empty coco-nut shells as dippers. Drinking water was supposed to be boiled;anyway it was put on the stove and heated until it acquiredthe dirty bucket flavors.

  There was a cement floor in this shelter, on which wescrubbed our clothes, and bathed ourselves, pouring waterover ourselves from the coconut shells. There were coconutpalms on the island, and the guards sometimes threw coconutsin to us. After eating the coconut meat we cleaned the shellsand used them for food receptacles and containers.

  A day on Berhala went something like this:

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  I get out of bed before light, bathe and do my washing inthe shelter, before the crowd arrives. This enables me to get adrying space on the clothesline, to hang my wash. Only a fewpeople remembered to bring clotheslines with them when en-tering imprisonment, and there was always a straggle for dry-ing space; rain sometimes necessitated clothes being hung outfor several days before they dried. The barrack itself alwayshad the wet-dog baby-diaper smell of wet clothing. Later welearned to remove barbed wire from the barriers, and use itfor clothesline.

  After washing, I return to the barrack and waken George,who hates to be awakened. At the children’s end the rumpusnow begins. Grimy mosquito nets dabble in people’s faces,dirty blankets sprawl on the floor, fresh rat (fe and crum-blings from the rotten wood above us are over everything.

  At seven the tea bucket is left outside the gate, and twowomen bring it in. Everyone rashes forward to get a mug oftea and as the bucket empties we look to see if it is just cock-roaches, or a rat this time.

  I go out and start the campfire, or borrow the use of some-body else’s, and heat up cold rice I have saved from the daybefore for breakfast. If I have any dried fish or vegetable Iput it in. I borrow Mrs. Cho’s frying pan to do this, as she hasentered captivity with better equipment than most of us.

  After breakfast we clean the barrack and the compound,empty the latrine buckets, and then if the guard is amiable wehave half an hour, or an hour, on the beach. Sometimes we canbathe, sometimes collect driftwood for our fires, sometimesthe guard puts us to work cleaning the beach or the guard-house, or the land near by. Then we come back to the com-pound and keep an ear cocked for the sound of the men goingby to the beach, or to work, in the hope that the guard willlet them stop, or call to us as they pass.

  After lunch of rice and tabular greens the heat settles down,overwhehning, prostrating, stewing heat. George and I bathe

  again, and I put George inside the net for a nap. Then I brushmy hair, powder my face, and settle to read or sew for a fewminutes. Now is a favorite time for the guards to come in and(i) enjoy our company, (2) turn us out to take exercises,(3 ) us a job of work to do in the sun, as they hate to seeus looking comfortable, or at ease.

  At three o’clock another bucket of tea comes with anotherassortment of bugs. Then we chop wood for our fires
, orwork in the compound, until suppertime, about five o’clock.Supper is again rice and greens, with perhaps a taste of driedfish. After supper, we empty the latrine buckets, and then,according to the guard’s whim, we may or may not go to thebeach.

  Dusk comes now, and we put the children to bed and areglad to lie down ourselves. Part of our overwhelming weari-ness comes from heavy physical labor in a tropical climate;part from the lack of sanitation and conveniences, which lackmakes the mere acts of daily living a struggle; part from thechange from a normal diet to one without any protein, andvery little sugar; and part of the weariness is from absence ofaU mental stimulation, variety, or joy.

  At first I used to sit in the gloaming and talk with friendsat night, hut soon I became too tired to bother. Our world hadshut dov/n to nothing but ourselves; in talking we were boundby ourselves, and by the tired, hard, untidy people we werefast becoming; in talking we had no escape from each other,or from the distasteful facts of our living. But lying in thedark, inside the semiprivacy of a mosquito net, with Georgebreathing quietly beside me, flat on my back at last, I couldreturn to the world of childhood in which life is not as it is, butas you wish it to be.

  At the end of the first month, the children came down withwhat we called dysentery, although no laboratory examina-tion could be made. They became nauseated, had diarrhea,

  passed mucus and blood, and lay about the barrack verylimply. Most of them were past the diaper age, and we hadno provision for stopping the wet ends. The camp became atrail of bloody stools left in the wake of weeping children,who in their turn were followed by creeping infants whocrawled through mud and gore. And after the infants wouldcome some childless woman with dainty tread to report tothe mother, “Mrs. So-and-So, your child has had an accident.Please clean it up.” But we had no waste cloths to clean any-thing up with.