Fathers Page 13
And so it was that on the 15th of June 1945 at three o’clock in the morning, only days before the Battle for Okinawa would be won by the Allies and exactly two months before the Japanese would surrender and end World War Two, five hundred Japanese prisoners of war rushed the gates of Wakeford Prisoner of War Camp. Led by Major Shuji Kobayashi, who would be the first to die, and armed with makeshift knives (manufactured from the strip of metal found in the soles of their boots supplied by their captors) and clubs of wood, the prisoners ran headlong, some screaming ‘Tenno Heika Banzai’ (Long Live the Emperor) into a hail of bullets from the Vickers machine guns mounted in the sentry towers. Any guards on the ground who tried to halt the hordes of men were quickly overcome and dispatched. Seizing the guards weapons the Japanese fired back at the sentry towers while others scaled over the gates using prison issue blankets to protect themselves from the barbed wire. Among the men chosen for the scaling of the gates was Konosu Toshio. He was an unwilling participant who would have been executed if he had refused and was selected because of his ability to speak English, and speak it very well. It was thought by the organisers that if these English speaking Japanese got away into the country side they would be able to pass themselves off as Chinese, working on the assumption that the racist enemy couldn’t pick the difference between the Chinese and Japanese.
A machine gun tower was overcome by a group of prisoners who managed to scale the structure, unharmed, after the gun had jammed. They clubbed the two guards to death and threw them to the ground. They tried frantically to clear the weapon and finally succeeded. They cocked the weapon and were about to turn it on their captors when the opposite tower’s machine gun opened up and cut them down. Barracks were set on fire, guards were garrotted and stabbed and bashed. Bullets flew in all directions destroying limbs, smashing arms and legs and shattering spines. Blowing holes in heads, puncturing stomachs and livers and lungs and hearts. Men falling, shouting, screaming, crying, in some cases laughing hysterically as they died like insignificant beings. Like ants or flies they were of no consequence, their lives not worthy of life. And still they came on, sacrificing themselves for their brothers, for their country, for their pride and honour. More to the slaughter as the Japanese continued with their suicidal charge, dying, dying, until there were no more. Until every prisoner who took part in the attack lay on the ground dead or injured or hung over the barbed wire fences like some macabre washing on a clothesline. They lay there gasping their last breath; some staring sightlessly into the sky to which they believed their spirits would go and become gods. Their broken bodies spewing forth their innards and blood, hot and steaming in the cold night air. The injured screaming with pain or moaning or crying or calling, ‘Oka’-san’ (mother). Because at the end when man dies, he doesn’t always die bravely, embracing his death. He often dies alone and afraid and calls for his mother like a child does in the night after a bad dream. And although many died a few did escape and when it was all over and the fires were put out and the bodies that had fallen at the gates were counted, and the wounded taken to the hospital to be treated for their horrific injuries, it was found that out of the estimated five hundred Japanese prisoners that took part in the attack on the gates; 257 were killed, 131 were wounded and 112 had escaped into the country side. Of the guards, seven were killed and three were wounded.
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In a matter of days all of the prisoners that escaped were taken back into custody. Of those who would not surrender were shot dead by their pursuers or they committed suicide. All that survived were back in the prison camp except one. Konosu Toshio.
This was not one of the greatest organised escapes from the prison camps of World War Two. In fact unlike the meticulously planned escapes by the allied prisoners from the German Stalags, where clothing, documents, maps and sometimes even enemy uniforms were manufactured in an effort to make the escape successful, Konosu had none of this. He had what he stood up in. His prison issue uniform and nothing else. He had no idea where he was, what he was going to do or where he was actually going. He had been given no instructions by his superiors except to escape and wreak havoc on the enemy. Well, he had done the first part alright, without a scratch in fact, but he was damned if he was going to take on the enemy by himself. He had heard about some of the atrocities his fellow countrymen had inflicted on the allies and he was told that should he fall into the hands of the civilian population they would show no mercy, and would tear him apart limb from limb. He also knew that should he give himself up and be returned to the camp he would not go back as a hero but as an abject failure. He would be treated like dogshit on the bottom of a shoe and would probably be encouraged to commit suicide, such would be his shame. So he had no choice. He would have to stay at large and hope and pray that the war would come to an end, one way or another, very soon.
When Konosu was in the camp he was one of the few prisoners to communicate with the guards. It was of course discouraged and he made sure that he was not noticed by any of his fellow countrymen when he talked to any of them. One of the guards who seemed particularly friendly and approachable was a large Maori man called Kahu. He had kept him up to date with the war and Konosu was quite sure that Kahu was telling him the truth. If he was being truthful then Konosu knew that Japan was in fact losing the war. They had slowly but surely been pushed back in the Pacific until they had ended up defending their home island of Okinawa. Next stop Japan. And this battle sounded like it was all but over and with another victory to the Americans. In fact the tide had turned for the Japanese after the ‘Battle of Midway’ in June 1942, when Japan lost four of its aircraft carriers and a heavy cruiser in that decisive naval battle; a battle that the Japanese navy never really recovered from. Yes, Konosu was well aware of all this even though the propaganda told by the fanatics painted a different picture. In fact, after the attack on Pearl Harbour in December 1941 many Japanese secretly wondered if this was going to be the beginning of the end. Having ‘kicked a rabid dog’ as quoted by Admiral Yamamoto, head of the Japanese Battle Fleet, they knew they had unleashed the might of America. A powerful nation that would exact its revenge and would not rest until the Japanese were safely back in Japan. Konosu feared the day that America would inevitably invade Japan itself, and knew that his country would never be the same after that. The fanatics would expect every citizen; man, woman and child to take up arms against their enemy. In fact he feared that Japan would no longer exist should the Japanese government refuse to surrender. They would simply be annihilated, wiped off the map and sometimes Konosu cried at night when he thought about the death of his country and perhaps his family that was surely to come.
This however was far from his mind today as cold and hungry, he stumbled through the New Zealand bush. The enemy in an enemy’s country. Not knowing where he was heading or what to do when he got there.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
T
wo weeks after the breakout from Wakeford Prisoner of War Camp, Jack and Wiremu were in the bush, not far from their homes, laying traps to catch possums so as to exploit their winter fur. “Watch your fingers Jack. Those traps’ll take ‘em clean off if you’re not careful!” Said Wiremu.
Jack was trying to set a gin trap on a Whiteywood tree or Mahoe as Wiremu called it. The trunk ran horizontal laying parallel with the ground for about three metres before righting itself vertically and heading upwards like a normal tree, its foliage joining the forest canopy far above. “Yeah, yeah, jeeper’s creepers, you would think this was the first time I had set a trap. I know what I’m doing, Mu,” he replied.
Wiremu had secured the trap to the tree by hammering a nail through a link in the chain into the trunk and it was Jacks turn to actually set the trap. He did this by applying pressure from his foot on the spring bar which in turn would open the jaws. He would then have to flip a metal tongue over one jaw and lock it into the foot plate. The trap would be activated by
an animal stepping onto the plate which would release the tongue and the jaws would snap shut, capturing the leg of the animal in its serrated grip. “I reckon we’ll get a possum here, look at the scratches going up the tree. They like this one alright, in fact maybe we should set two here,” said Mu.
Jack was still struggling with the first trap.
“Oi! Put some muscle into it Jack, my sister’s got more strength than you! In fact she can set the trap by squeezing the spring with her hand!” Sniggered Mu.
“Have you seen your sister lately Mu? She’s built like a Sherman tank and got arms as round as cannons, so I’m not really surprised!”
“Yeah I know, when she sits on ya she feels the same weight as a tank and if she punches ya it feels like you’ve been hit with a cannon ball that’s for sure!”
“So what does she eat to make her so big?”
“We’ll I tell ya she eats everything. She’ll eat all and everything. Anything that moves she’ll eat. And anything not smart enough to move she’ll eat. She’s always eating. When she goes to get the eggs from the chook house she’ll have eaten the eggs before she’s gotten back to the house. If she milks the cow, she’ll just squirt that milk directly into her mouth till that cows bone dry, won’t leave none for us. When we have a hangi, you know like a real big one for all the whanau, we have to keep an eye on her or else she’ll be digging it up before its ready, letting all the dirt fall in and everything. But she’ll still eat the pork and mutton and kereru and weka with dirt all on it and before it’s even cooked properly eh! She can eat a fully grown pig by herself in one go. I’ve seen her eat two sheep in one sitting and then turn around and grab half a dozen wekas and scoff them down too! She won’t waste food, no way, she’ll eat every part of the animal, the skin, the liver, the stomach, the brains, the kidneys, all the fat on the meat, she’ll break open the bones and suck out the marrow, crunch up and swallow the smaller ones, heck I reckon given the chance she’d prob’ly eat the hooves too! I tell ya I don’t like being around her when she’s not had a feed in a while cause I’m sure she’s been eyeing me up, you know, just staring at me and licking her lips and drooling and things.”
Jack shook his head in disbelief “Crikey, no wonder she’s so big! Maybe they could drop her on Japan and the ones she doesn’t kill by landing on them she could starve to death by eating all their food supplies. They’d be begging us to take her away. In fact they’d probably surrender; it would be too much for them. She could be the allies’ greatest secret weapon. She could end the war!” He giggled.
“That’s if you could find a plane big enough to carry her eh! Prob’ly have to ship her over which wouldn’t work as good and then the ship would have ta be pretty big ‘cause it would have to carry heaps of food for her, eh?”
“Yeah and if they didn’t have enough, then I’d be worried for the crew, especially after what you said before about her eyeing you up and everything.”
“Ah well, perhaps it’s better she’s here for now, you know as our last line of defence should we ever be invaded.” He grinned. Then he said, “Oi you set that trap yet? It’ll be dark before we get all these set and we got another twenty to go!”
The boys worked their way through the bush following animal trails and easy contours as they set their traps on the various trees. They had thirty of these traps and the fur from the possums would provide extra income to the families. Nothing would go to waste as the meat would be made into stews and casseroles and be eaten and enjoyed by Wiremu’s extended family. It would not however pass Jack’s lips as he had stated on many occasions that ‘I would rather eat my undies than possum meat.’ After laying each of the traps the boys dusted the tree with flour to attract the possums. They set the last one and headed out of the bush, leaving them overnight, and would return in the morning to check the results.
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Konosu had heard the boys banter and had quietly made his way through the bush to observe them setting the traps. He had followed them at a safe distance always remaining hidden in the foliage, careful not to step on any dry sticks or leaves so as to give himself away. He had been travelling through the bush for these last two weeks, sometimes in circles, disorientated. Sometimes backtracking when he had found a cliff or a gorge to difficult to pass. He didn’t know where he was going but he knew he had to put some distance between his pursuers and himself and he hoped that if he kept moving he would eventually find a place close to civilisation. Somewhere he could steal some food and swap his prison issue clothes for civilian gear. He had finally found himself on the other side of the range, a good distance from Wakeford and near the town of Putumu. Although it was winter and he had no way to light a fire he had the good sense, when he escaped, to wear both sets of his prison issue clothing, one under the other. The quality wasn’t bad having been made from good New Zealand wool and so he stayed reasonably warm, as long as he sheltered at night from the elements. He managed to find shelter under logs or banks or caves or by using the large fronds from the Nikau palm as cover. Water was no problem as the dense bush was full of rivers and streams and creeks and springs and puddles. Food was a little more difficult to come by, but he had survived, eating insects and grubs and even a bush rat, raw, that he had captured after it had scampered over him one night. Another night he had tried to catch a ‘Kiwi’ as he heard two of the birds calling to one another. Two high pitched whistles, not far away. Two males about to fight over territory, one on either side and both converging towards him, challenging each other with their shrill calls, neither of them backing down. They were rustling through the dead leaves and ferns and crunching over the fallen ponga fronds as they came closer and closer to him. Konosu didn’t know what they were of course, or that they were about to fight each other, to the death if necessary, all he knew is that they had to be some sort of nocturnal animal and that they were coming towards him. And that they were potentially a meal for him. Konosu sat in a small hollow and under an overhang that had formed when a large tree had toppled many years ago and the roots had been ripped from the earth creating a shallow cave. A natural shelter that had served many of the inhabitants of the forest before him. From his hide he looked out on the moonlit clearing that lay before him as one of these creatures came into view. Konosu stared, amazed. He had never seen anything like it. It stood about a foot off the ground and had a round plump body with a small head that didn’t sit on top of its body like a normal bird but rather it was stuck on its side and faced down towards the earth. A long straight beak almost like a large pencil swung back and forth as it walked along, occasionally probing the ground with it. He could see it was dull in colour and guessed it to be brown or black and although he knew it was a bird he couldn’t see any wings. And instead of having feathers its body appeared to be covered in fur. The bird didn’t know he was there, as it walked through the clearing on its way to meet its rival. Konosu watched it closely and waited until it swung its head away and began to probe the soil with its beak before he pounced. He sprung out from his shelter and dived at full stretch at the kiwi and grasped it in his hands. It struggled violently and he had trouble holding on to it. The bird was stronger than he had imagined and it wriggled and lashed out with its clawed feet and its sharp beak ripping Konosu’s hands and wrists. The jabbing beak just missed his eye and caught him just below it, tearing the soft skin near the eye socket and he screamed and let the beast go. It disappeared instantly into the night, itself unharmed, but leaving its attacker bloody and in pain and feeling extremely sorry for himself.
Konosu had only just arrived in this area of the bush when he saw the two boys setting the traps and he knew that he must be very close to civilisation now. Although it brought the benefits of being able to obtain a better food supply and perhaps equipment to survive, it also brought about a greater chance of being sighted and captured. He knew that from now on he would have to remain on high alert and be extremely ca
utious. He waited until the boys had headed off and their voices dwindled as they got further away, before he ventured out from his cover and inspected the traps the boys had laid. He looked at the contraption and then picked up a stick. Prodding at the footplate he set the trap off, the jaws snapping violently together, breaking the stick into. Konosu jumped a little when the trap went off and he felt a little perturbed that some poor creature was going to have its leg chomped and then clamped by these loathsome devices. He guessed what the boys hoped to catch, the possum, as he had seen and heard them on numerous occasions and assumed they would be prized for their fur. This was another nocturnal creature that lived in the forest he now called home. He had nearly crapped himself one night when a possum started calling out from a tree next to where he slept. It had made a rasping, guttural sound unlike any animal he had ever heard and he wondered at the time if the bush had been inhabited by demons or some other unearthly creatures from hell. They were a curious animal and it didn’t take long before he met them and on more than one occasion. In fact every night he could guarantee that at least one would seek him out and disturb his sleep and just plain annoy him. He had thrown stones at them and whacked them with sticks but it didn’t seem to make a difference. Within a short time they would be back crawling over his shelter or sitting in front or just behind him, just out of reach, just enough to irritate him. One time he managed to hit one on the head really, really hard with a large, solid, heavy piece of wood, hard enough that it would possibly kill a man, certainly render him unconscious but it seemed to have little effect on the possum. The possum although probably a little dazed just took off and scrambled up the nearest tree. Konosu even thought about trying to catch one with his bare hands, but after the kiwi episode and after he saw the set of claws the possum had, he decided, wisely it must be said, against it.