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  Once Wiremu had calmed a bit he answered, “Couldn’t help it, must’ve been that possum we had for tea last night eh!”

  “You spoiled my shot, I woulda had him. I had it all lined up and everything,” complained Jack.

  “Nah, you woulda missed Jack ‘cause you’re useless! You woulda been lucky to hit the tree let alone that bird!”

  With that Jack pounced on Wiremu and the wrestling match was on, all in good fun of course. And after a while, when the boys tired and there was to be no clear winner from the ‘fight’, they both took up the more serious challenge of trying to catch an eel or two for their lunch. Wiremu had shown Jack how to catch eels the same way his father had shown him and both were adept with the method of ‘toi’ or ‘bobbing’. They cut a flax leaf off the plant and ripped the leaves into long fibres. Then they found an old fallen tree in the bush and broke away the rotting bark to reveal the large milky white ‘huhu’ grubs. These they threaded onto the flax fibre and then tied it in a circle. Then they tied the flax to a strong manuka stick which was their fishing pole. Submerging this in the water near an eel hole, the eel would bite onto the grub threaded flax and then, with a little luck, get their teeth caught in the fibres. Then, the boys would quickly lift the pole from the water and simply flick the eel to the shore.

  The boys sat on a bank above the river under a large ponga fern which sheltered them from the early afternoon sun. Their fishing poles were dangling in the green, almost clear river. Clouds of insects hovered in the air around them, while fantails squeaking like hinges in need of an oiling, put on an aerobatic show as they chased and fed on the flying morsels. A brown trout broke the surface of the water to take a large cicada floundering in the pool while the screech of the cicadas in the bush competed with the melodies performed by the tui, bellbird and kokako. And in a nearby Totara Tree two kakariki squawked and squabbled with each other like children fighting over sweets.

  “You know they may look horrible but those huhu aren’t too bad cooked up,” Jack remarked after eating several huhu grubs they had fried on hot stones by the fire.

  “Aw, they’re real good Jack, we quite often have them at home, ‘specially when our Tupuna come to stay cause they got no teeth, only gums left to chew on anything, eh. The huhu is easy to eat for them, nice and soft,” laughed Wiremu.

  “Tupuna? Your grandparents you mean. Miss McFierce would strap you if she heard you using those Maori words at school.”

  “Yeah well were not at school, thank God, and she’s not here is she? And if she was I would use her for eel bait!”

  “She’d scare the eels!” Jack quipped.

  “Yeah, she’d prob’ly strap the eels for speaking eel language eh!” Wiremu giggled.

  “Hey, how big you reckon those eels grow?”

  “My uncle reckons he seen one as big as a tree!”

  “What sort of tree?”

  “Um, a really big tree. Like a kauri or something.”

  “A kauri’s a pretty big tree Mu; see there’s one through there.” Jack pointed. “That’s pretty big. It’s bigger than all the trees around it!”

  “Well maybe not a kauri but still a big tree. And prob’ly not a fully grown one but one that’s still growing, you know, like a young one, smaller but still quite big.”

  “What? Like a rimu or something?”

  “Yeah, like a rimu, only a smaller one, ‘cause they’re quite big when they’re fully grown.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Anyway my uncle reckons when he was fishing at the river one time, he saw this big eel come up out of the water and onto the bank. And grab a kid who was standing next to him!”

  “Yeah! And what happened to the kid?’’ Jack asked, absolutely astonished.

  “Well the kid got dragged back into the river and taken under the water... And they never saw him again!”

  “Was it your uncles’ boy?” Jack asked wide eyed.

  ”No, I don’t think so.”

  “What was the kid’s name?”

  “Ah, dunno, he never told me that.”

  “Well what was the kid doing there then?”

  Wiremu scratched his head “Um, dunno. Perhaps he heard about the big eel and he came to have a look.”

  “Cripes, that’s pretty dumb, eh? You think your uncle would have warned him to stand back or something.” Said Jack as he moved back from the river bank. Wiremu got up and away from the water’s edge and leaned against the trunk of the ponga.

  Wiremu answered, “Yeah I think he was about to but the eel must’ve been too fast.”

  “Was it this river?” Asked Jack as his eyes searched the water.

  “Um, not sure, could’ve been. Anyway they caught that eel and guess what they found inside it when they cut it open?”

  “Um, the kid?”

  “Yeah they found the kid but guess what else?”

  “I dunno, a horse maybe?”

  “Yeah that’s right, how’d you know?”

  “Just guessed,” said Jack proudly.

  “Wow good guess... But it wasn’t just the horse; it was the saddle and the horse’s rider too!”

  “Did they eat it?”

  “What the horse?”

  “No, the eel?”

  “Yeah, course they did. It fed the whole whanau. In fact I think they had a big party to celebrate.”

  “Who caught it?”

  “Pretty sure it was my uncle, he was always telling me about the things he caught. He’s a good hunter my uncle, he was telling me about this monster pig once that...” The pole that Wiremu was holding was suddenly jerked downwards with such force that he didn’t have time to react and was pulled off his feet and into the river. Still holding on to the pole Wiremu disappeared under the water. “WIREMU!” Jack screamed. Wiremu surfaced, took a breath and went back under again, still holding the pole. Jack dropped his pole, stripped off his shirt and was about to dive in when Wiremu surfaced again and yelled “YOUR STICK! GIMME! I’VE STILL GOT THE BUGGER!”

  Jack picked up his pole again and pushed it out to his friend who immediately grabbed the end with his free hand. “LET IT GO MU, YOU’LL DROWN!”

  “Can’t, trying...” Gasped Wiremu between trying to breathe and swallowing water.

  Wiremu’s left arm was being pulled in great thumping jerks as the eel fought with the flax ring, snapping its head back and forth as it tried to release its teeth. With his right hand Wiremu held on grimly to the pole Jack had given him. Jack heaved and heaved pulling with all his strength to help his mate back to the bank. “IT’S NO GOOD TRYING TO GET YOU UP THE BANK; I’LL TRY TO PULL YOU TOWARDS THE BEACH BIT OVER THERE. IT’S SHALLOWER!” Yelled Jack. “KICK YOUR LEGS TO HELP ME!”

  Wiremu looked like Christ on the Cross being stretched between the eel and Jack but somehow he managed to kick and with their combined efforts he made it to the shallows and got to his feet. The eel was thrashing in the shallower water and still Wiremu held on. Jack kept pulling on the pole until he had both his mate and the eel on dry land. They fell to the ground in an exhausted heap. Wiremu’s arm twitched and jerked with the movements of the struggling eel as he still gripped the pole. “You can let go of the pole now Mu we got the bugger!” Jack panted.

  “Yeah I will once I untangle this flax from around my hand. When I was telling you about the big eel I tied my hand to the pole with the flax. Wasn’t really thinking eh!” Sniggered Wiremu.

  “Crikey and all this time I thought you just wanted be a hero and catch a big eel like your uncle!”

  “He is pretty big though,” said Wiremu.

  The boys looked at the large eel as it struggled in the dry grass trying frantically to make its way back to the water. “Not as big as a kauri though,” said Jack

  “No, maybe not. More like a young rimu probably,” said Wiremu.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  T

  he telegram or ‘Angels of Death’ as they were sometimes called arrived at the Delaney’s house over a month after the death of Jack�
��s father. It was delivered by the store owner who also acted as the postmaster, and delivery boy when it was prudent to hand deliver a message rather than wait for the recipient to collect it from his store. The store owner was a short, tubby man, with large protruding ears and a beak like nose on which perched a pair of pince-nez glasses. His thinning black hair was parted down the middle and plastered down either side of his head with ‘Brylcreem’. He wore a clean white apron over a white shirt and brown tie, brown trousers and matching shoes. The store keeper was in fact a German Jew who, with his wife, an American Jew with German ancestry, and their daughter, had the good sense to leave Germany late in 1933. The Nazi Party had come to power and the condemnation and hatred by Hitler and his followers towards the Jewish people was growing like a virus, infecting most of the ‘good’ citizens of Germany. So the store owner and his family reluctantly, but wisely, left his shop behind in his home country and found his way to New Zealand. He was early enough to avoid a lot of the difficulty many Jews were to face in the latter years of Nazi rule. Many countries closed their borders to the hordes of Jewish refugees that were trying to flee Germany and the occupied countries of Europe. As far as the store owner was concerned, New Zealand was the only civilised country that was distant enough from Germany and the Nazi’s, and offered peace to his family in a time of unprecedented chaos. Many of his relations did not believe the store owner’s pessimistic view of the state of affairs at the time and chose to stay put, thinking that the madness would soon end and that common sense would prevail. After all they had lived in Germany for generations and some had even fought and died for their country in the Great War. Of course the store owner was never to see any of his relatives again, as the systematic genocide carried out by the Nazi regime, eliminated some six million of his people.

  The store owners name was Wilhelm Rasch which was unfortunate as it immediately got shortened by the locals to Willie, Willie Rasch. This of course caused a lot of hilarity and the occasional gentle ribbing from the townsfolk. Naturally the children of the village latched onto the name and giggled anytime it was mentioned out loud. Fortunately Willie had a good sense of humour and took this in his stride willing to laugh along with the joke. Up to a point that is. He could tolerate the adults when it was mentioned on occasions but if the children pushed it too far, he was known to chase them down the street with his broom and a whack round the backside usually put an end to the name calling. Out of good manners and perhaps to save embarrassment for themselves, most women of the community continued to call him Mr. Rasch.

  Willie owned the only motor vehicle in the town, a 1936 Fordson E83W van - passenger seat optional - that he had imported from England before war broke out. Fortunately he had avoided the army commandeering his vehicle for the war effort. The villagers had successfully argued that the town should be allowed it’s one and only motor car as it was to be used for vital services such as delivering a doctor to an emergency, being available for fire fighting duties and the delivery of essential mail and goods. Petrol was of course rationed but the vehicle also ran smokily on kerosene and other dubious substances that were easier to come by.

  It was out of this vehicle that Willie alighted after he parked on the road below the farm house. He then made his way up the track, somewhat hesitantly, towards the front door of the Delaney residence, telegram in hand.

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  Jacks mother was killing chooks, lopping off their heads with an axe, when she heard the noise from the van as it came up the road towards her farm. She held her breath and hoped that it would carry on past her place. In fact she held her breath and prayed that it would go past her place. When she heard it stop she tried to think of the reasons of why it could be stopping here. Of course it could be any number of reasons she thought; like a flat tyre, run out of fuel, hit an animal on the road, driven into a tree...

  To admire the fucking scenery!

  Anything. Oh God anything, but what she knew in her heart of hearts; what she knew deep down to be true. The only reason that bloody bastard of a German Jewish whore was stopping at her house was to bring her misery. And she screamed “NOOOOO!” as she stood there with a bloody axe in one hand and the headless carcass of a chook in the other. “Don’t do this you bastard. You stay away from here. Don’t you come here with your messages from hell!” Willie looked up to see Jack’s mother marching toward him like a wild thing. Fear and hurt and despair and longing and hatred was to be seen in those intense, beautiful, tear filled, eyes as she bore down on him with the axe swinging, blood dripping off the blade and gushing out the chickens neck over her arms and clothes. Willie, alarmed now, said “Mrs Delaney, please be forgiving me but I am only zee messenger!” He considered turning and running as he was only a small man and was unlikely to be able to wrestle with a grief stricken, axe wielding, mad woman and hope to survive. Jacks mother screamed again and threw the chicken at Willie striking him on the back of the head and shoulders as he tried to duck and turn. She then dropped the axe and lay into him with her fists knocking his glasses off his face as Willie cowered with his arms over his head trying to shield the blows.

  “Mum!” Jack yelled as he came up the track towards the scene.

  Jack had just arrived home from school on his pony and had been passed by Mr. Rasch on his way to his house. Jacks mother stopped the attack and then sat heavily on the ground and began to weep. Holding herself, rocking backwards and forwards she repeatedly cried “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

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  “Mister Rasch can you tell Miss McFierce that Jack won’t be in school tomorrow?” said Jacks mother. The three of them were seated around the kitchen table sipping cups of tea. Sat in the middle was the telegram, a stain on the table cloth. The tears had been shed and dried, for now. However, there would be more to come over the hours, days, weeks, months and even years until the hurt would finally fade to leave an emptiness that would never be filled.

  Willie placed his tea in the saucer “Of course Mrs Delaney and if zere is anyzing you are needing, you just let me know. Yar?”

  “You are too kind Mister Rasch and once again let me apologise for my behaviour earlier, it was totally inappropriate,” she said trying to hold it all together.

  “It vas understandable, you vere in shock, no? Vee all veact different to zis, yar?”

  “I suppose, I guess if you’re truthful to yourself you hope and pray that it will happen to someone else. Sounds horrible I know, but it seems to increase the odds of your husband staying alive if your neighbour’s one has copped a bullet or bomb. Deep down you know the odds aren’t great for anyone over there, so you try and think how you will react if you get the news. One is never quite prepared for it though...” Her voice trailed off. Her eyes were vacant, staring into space. Seeing nothing.

  “Mum, can I go outside?”Said Jack quietly.

  She smiled only with her mouth. Her eyes glistened with tears. “Yes, of course you can Jack. Are you okay son?”

  Jack sniffed. “Yeah I’ll be alright...” He said. Then, “What’s for tea Mum?”

  Willie shook his head and smiled. “Ah, children. If only vee let them rule the vorld, vee vould not have a care vould vee not?”

  “We’ll decide what to have later. Go and play for now Jack or even better finish off killing those chooks for me, they’re still in the sack,” said his mother.

  Willie stood. “I too must be leaving Mrs. Delaney. I vill send you some treats and some special goods from my store to you. This may help you through the bad times, yar? And I vill let Jack’s teacher know about your loss. Should I be telling any von else for you?”

  She looked up at him “Thank you Mister Rasch. And you may post the death notice on the board at your store with the others, no point keeping it a secret.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  WINTER 1944

&n
bsp; R

  ex Roberts (Junior) was the same age as Jack and of course went to the same, the one and only Putumu Primary School. Rex lived with his mother, father and sister in the town of Putumu on the main road, that lead to and beyond the Delaney farm and several others. The main road was called Ramarama Ridge Road after the long ridge that could be seen in the nearby hills, often snow capped in winter, from anywhere in town. Rex’s father, who was also called Rex, was excused from military service due to an accident at his work - the Putumu sawmill - where he managed to chop off his right hand in the circular saw while milling a great log of rimu. This happened the day after Michael Joseph Savage, the then Prime Minister of New Zealand, declared war on Nazi Germany announcing to the nation from his bed that ‘Where Britain stands, we stand. Where she goes we go.’ The rumour that began to circulate around the village was that Rex (Senior) chopped his hand off to avoid being called up to fight. A drastic measure one might think and totally unproven however it didn’t stop the villagers from accepting the rumour as the truth, and treating Rex and his family with unworthy disdain. It didn’t help either that Rex wasn’t the handsomest man in town, in fact he was downright odd looking and if he hadn’t sawed off his hand, his odd gait, strange looks and dishevelled appearance may have consigned him to a desk job or peeling spuds in the Army, as he certainly didn’t appear to be infantry material. Of course the Army required fine specimens of human beings to die for their country. Rex had no neck; his head appeared to sit straight on top of his shoulders and his hair shot out at all angles, at all times, as if he had just got out of bed. He had elf like ears, pointed and large and on his long face he sported an upturned nose so that when you looked at him you looked directly up his nostrils and saw all that they held. He had no chin to speak of and this pulled his bottom jaw back out of line with his top jaw, causing his teeth to overhang his bottom lip. His eyes were out of level on his face and were so close together that they made him look slightly cross-eyed. And if that wasn’t enough he wore black framed spectacles that magnified his eyes so much that he looked permanently startled, like a deer caught in a spotlight. Some wag suggested that he must have had damn good vision to see through those lenses, such were the thickness of the glass. A single eye brow was the crowning glory on this unusual assembly of features and because of his appearance, it was quite incredible that he found a woman to mate with, but he did. And because it’s quite usual for people of certain attractiveness to seek out other people similar to themselves, Rex ended up marrying a woman of equal if not less beauty... Unfortunately this was to replicate itself in their offspring’s features and so it was that Rex(Junior) ended up looking exactly like his father. Glasses included. On top of this, Rex (Junior) had the misfortune of a speech impediment that was to hinder him throughout his childhood years. He couldn’t pronounce his R’s properly and ended up using W’s in their place. For example if he had to introduce himself he would say ‘I’m Wex Woberts fwom Wamawama Widge Woad and I go to Putumu Pwimawy Monday to Fwiday.’ Because of all of this, poor Rex Junior was picked on and bullied by some of the little sods he called classmates. Jack and Wiremu, who although they sometimes fell about in fits of laughter at his speech and the way he looked and acted at times, found him to be totally harmless, and not a bad bloke once you got to know him...