Enemy Camp Read Online Free Page A

in their gardens, or even in parks, when they thought the Japs were coming. Now some of them can’t find where they put it!
    Old Mrs Laurie was pleased to get the vegetables. She yakked away, then asked if I could post a letter for her. It was for her grandson, the coast-watcher. I looked at the address before I dropped it in the box: 217384 C PL L AURIE J K, R OYAL N EW Z EALAND N AVY , G OVERNMENT B AG , W ELLINGTON . Funny to think of letters from Featherston ending up in New Guinea, or in Egypt and Greece, like the ones Mum wrote to Dad.
    I pedalled back past the Domain. Then I stopped. Aline of six men were on the grass, throwing cricket balls while another bloke yelled at them.
    What was—? Then I heard what he was shouting: ‘Hold lever! Pull pin! Arm back! Throw! Down! — I said
down
, George Wilkins! If that was a real grenade, you’d have had your stupid head blown off while you were admiring your throw!’
    The Home Guard training. Hope the Japs are ready to face a heavy bombardment of cricket balls if they ever invade.
    I told Mum about Mrs Laurie’s letter. Dad was listening. ‘None of the prisoners out at camp ever write a letter. They’re ashamed that they were captured alive. If they start writing home, their families will feel disgraced.’ He shook his head. ‘I guess their fighting men will be the same, when they arrive.’
    ‘That’s so sad,’ said Mum. ‘Surely their families would want to know how they are?’
    WEDNESDAY, 11 NOVEMBER There’s a woman train guard helping Mr Morris this week, and Mrs Morris is making him shine his shoes and brush his Railways jacket every morning. Dad laughed when he heard. ‘Poor old Harry.’ (I didn’t tell you that, did I? Barry and Clarry’s father is called Harry!)
    I wasn’t looking forward to school today. SusanProctor gave her morning talk on Japan. I’m surprised it wasn’t mentioned on the BBC News.
    My mother likes Susan, because she always says ‘Hello, Mrs MacKenzie’ if we meet her in town. ‘She has such lovely manners, Ewen. You could at least say hello to her.’
    We had flag-raising. Then we all stood in silence for two minutes, since it’s twenty-four years today since the Great War ended. I wonder how much longer this one will last.
    Arithmetic first, then Mr White said, ‘Morning-talk time, Room Six. Thank you, Susan.’
    Susan Proctor went up to the front. She had her hair sort of brushed back with two blue bows in it. I’d like to give it another good pull.
    She took a deep breath, and I realised she was nervous. Serve her right for … for being a snob.
    ‘Good morning, Mr White and class. My morning talk is on Japan, so I apologise for wearing my shoes inside.’
    What was she on about?
    ‘In Japan, people always take their shoes off and leave them outside when they go into a house. They put on special slippers.’ Crazy! I folded my arms and got ready to be bored.
    Crazier — I wasn’t!
    She talked about how Jap people have mattresses onthe floor instead of beds. How a lot of them don’t use pillows, but a smooth wooden block. ‘Mummy tried it one time.’
Mummy
! She must have seen the expression on my face, because she gave an embarrassed smile.
    She described how people dropped on their knees and pressed their foreheads against the ground if they ever saw their Emperor. How they play soccer and call it ‘
sakkah
’. (We all laughed at that. Even I did, until I realised, and stopped.)
    ‘Mummy — Mum — used to have a Japanese penpal. They stopped writing when the war began. Her friend said things changed after army generals began controlling the government. Now all the boys have their hair cut short, and wear military uniforms to class.’
    I wouldn’t mind that, I thought.
    Margaret Nicholls put her hand up and asked: ‘What do the girls wear?’ Anzac pretended to yawn.
    ‘For special festivals, they wear—’ She reached into a little suitcase she had brought, and held up something red and yellow and