When she finished knitting the last set of socks, Mary rose to her feet. As if by silent, mutual agreement, she and Claudia headed outside with Robbie. Ita and Georgie were in the yard, playing a game with some of the other children. It was some sort of a cricket game, but there was no ball, so they were hitting sticks in the air, trying to get them to sail across the road.

  The house they lived in butted up against the fence parallel to the railroad that ran across the dike.

  Out of habit, everyone turned to watch the train as it snaked by. They could see the top of it, and sometimes they could see the passengers through the open windows—all Indonesian civilians or Japanese troops.

  Mary’s heart stalled when she saw that the train was full of Indonesians, and several of them were leaning out the window, staring straight into their camp.

  “The war is over!” one of them shouted in Malay.

  No, several of them were shouting the same thing.

  “The war has ended!”

  “Japan has surrendered!”

  Mary didn’t move for a long time after the train had passed. Maybe it had been a dream. Maybe she was still sleeping in a cocoon of heat inside the house, and her mind was playing tricks on her.

  “Did you hear that?” Claudia said, coming to stand next to her. “Can it be true?”

  Without looking at her friend, Mary said, “I heard it. Are you part of my dream now?”

  A strange laugh escaped Claudia, and Mary turned then. Claudia’s eyes were red with tears and her chin trembled. “Is the war really over? Or could a train full of Javanese civilians be playing a cruel game?”

  Mary released a thready breath that caught in her throat. A lump formed, and her chest went tight. Her dream last night . . . and then this . . .

  She reached for Claudia’s arm and held on tight because she didn’t know if her knees would hold her up.

  Claudia turned fully toward Mary, the tears streaking her cheeks.

  Mary didn’t even know she could cry anymore, but a sob surged deep within her. And then she was hugging Claudia, holding on tight, as if she could squeeze the words of those on the train into reality. How sweet were the words, how exquisite the news, but somehow it was full of pain and grief as well. For all that had changed, for all that had been lost, for all those who’d died. Millions upon millions.

  But right now, Mary would hold her friend tightly and they’d cry together.

  Around them, the news was spreading, the conversations growing. Women cheered, women cried, children ran around shouting.

  No one knew what would happen in the next hour, or the next day, but they would bask in the light that had broken through years of darkness and despair.

  Over the next days, everyone was talking, speculating, and asking questions of each other.

  The Korean guard Noda didn’t know any more than the prisoners. He’d heard the same rumors, but orders hadn’t come from the Japanese government of what the liberation steps would be. Kano didn’t know anything more than the prisoners either. The routine remained except that roll call was only in the evenings now, instead of twice a day. The food supply was better, and rice rations doubled, but people were still dying, because they had trouble digesting any richer foods.

  There was talk of sneaking into the military office and turning on the one radio in camp. But no one dared when it came down to it. Even with Captain Sonei gone for weeks, the fear he’d instilled in the women remained.

  Another week passed, and small changes happened, but nothing that was entirely unusual. The Japanese guards stopped asking for socks to be knitted and uniforms to be repaired, so Mary had more idle time.

  One afternoon, while Mary was catching flies with her children, after the sewer ditch crew had finished their daily task, Claudia came hurrying toward them. “There’s been a meeting called with all the house leaders.”

  Mary straightened. Meetings with house leaders usually meant more restrictions or an issuance of punishment. “Do you have any idea what it will be about?”

  Claudia shook her head at the same time that Tie could be seen striding down the road in her long skirt—which she’d started wearing after being given more and more authority among the house leaders.

  Tie raised a hand in greeting but didn’t stop to speak to anyone, or speculate. That was her way. She’d kept her distance for years.

  After Claudia hurried away, Mary took the children inside the house. They’d wait for news there. She didn’t want to congregate near the gate to hear whatever Lieutenant Sakai was going to say. If there were punishments doled out, Mary didn’t want her children to be witness to them.

  She tamped down her curiosity, which was mostly anxiety anyway, as she waited. Ita asked if she could join the other children near the gate, but Mary told her no.

  So they waited. And wondered.

  When Claudia finally returned, she called a house meeting. Mary tried to read the woman’s expression. She was smiling. A rare thing.

  That meant the news could only be good, right?

  “Ladies,” Claudia began. “Lieutenant Sakai has posted a bulletin to the notice board. It states that the war is over as officially declared by Emperor Hirohito. Japan has surrendered to the Allies, and we are to wait at this camp until the Allied armies arrive to relocate us.”

  Mary’s hands shook as she pulled her children closer. This was real. This was happening. Women threw out questions, many of them the same ones that Mary might have asked if she weren’t focused on finding the bulletin. She had to see the words herself.

  Chapter Thirty

  “There was no law and order. Native bands used to roam the streets looking for white people or anybody else they did not like. We then huddled and listened to their shouting and the hollow clangs their sharpened bamboo sticks made when hitting a metal pole, and we relaxed only after they had passed the house.”

  —Greta Kwik, Semarang

  Rita

  Ita shifted closer to the notice board, moving between the women who’d crowded around to read the announcement. She’d checked the notice board daily ever since the British Red Cross had started posting the names of those who had died. Papa was never on the lists. At least, not yet.

  But this notice was written in English—a language that Ita didn’t read or write.

  “Who can read English?” one woman asked.

  “I can.” Someone volunteered, and Ita was surprised to see it was Aunt Tie. The woman never visited, and Mama had stopped taking them on visits to see her. Whenever Ita saw her aunt around the camp, Aunt Tie would say hello, but she would never ask after any of them.

  Aunt Tie took her position at the front of the gathered group. Her voice was loud enough she didn’t need one of those megaphones that the Japanese soldiers used.

  After repeated requests by the Allies to stop the war, His Majesty Emperor Hirohito has ordered the cessation of hostilities. As a result, the status of the internees has been brought to an end on the understanding that their release from captivity will await the arrival of representatives from the Allied armies. The date of this arrival is not yet known.

  For military political reasons you have been brought together here and that is why you have suffered the difficulties of the war; henceforth your circumstances will improve. Until the formal capitulation, the Japanese army will remain responsible for the maintenance of peace and order in the camps. In response to this requirement the existing regulations will remain in force. Now that the war has ended the provision of food will improve.

  Money belonging to internees can be utilized to purchase necessary goods. The moneys taken into custody by the Nipponese authorities will be shortly returned.

  General Nagano,

  Commander Nipponese 16th Army, Jakarta,

  22 August 2605

  “Mama,” Ita said in a quiet voice. “What does all of that mean?”

  Her mother rested a hand on her shoulder. “The war is over, Rietie.”

  She’d heard this stated over and over, but what did that mean? “Do we get to go home?”

  Mama’s lips pressed together, and she steered Ita out of the crowd. When they stopped under a scraggly palm tree, Mama said, “There is nowhere for us to go yet. Our homes are occupied. Besides, we need to find your father, and the Vos family needs to find their father and Johan.”

  Ita hoped that Johan would come back to their camp, then she could tell him everything that had happened since he’d left. Would he remember her? Or would he be too old to care about a young girl?

  “Will Papa come here from Glodok?”

  “I don’t know that,” Mama said. “He may have been transferred somewhere else.”

  Aunt Tie came to stand beside them. “If he’s not at Glodok, he’s probably dead,” she announced with an edge to her words.

  Mama puffed out a breath as if she was annoyed.

  “But there are ladies who are going to work on reuniting families through the Red Cross,” Aunt Tie continued in her bossy voice. “Lieutenant Sakai is allowing them to use one of the offices.”

  “They can find Papa, then,” Ita burst out. “Or we can go find him. Glodok isn’t so far.”

  “No one’s going anywhere,” Aunt Tie said. “Haven’t you told her anything, Mary? She’s not a child anymore—none of these children are.” Without adding anything more, she strode off.

  Ita wasn’t sure why Aunt Tie spoke sharply to Mama. The two women never seemed to like each other. “What does she mean? I thought the war was over.”

  “The world war is over,” Mama said in a quiet voice.

  Ita wondered why there were tears in Mama’s eyes. Weren’t they supposed to be happy about all of this? Was Mama getting sick again?

  Mama cleared her throat. “You might as well know. Some children have probably been told already. The Indonesians have declared their independence from the Dutch.”

  Ita wrinkled her brow. Greta had said something about this too, but if the world war was over, did that change more things?

  Before she could determine exactly what this meant, Mama said, “This means, because we are Dutch, we are safer inside the camp walls. The Japanese guards are going to protect us from the Indonesian rebel groups who want all Dutch people to leave the islands.”

  Ita nodded slowly, although she wasn’t sure why the Japanese guards who’d been their enemies were now having to protect them from people who used to be friends. Maybe they weren’t all friends like Ita had thought? She still remembered Kemala, Anja, Dea, and Bima. They would always be her friends, right?

  “So that’s why we can’t go back to our house?”

  “Yes,” Mama said on a sigh. “Not only is another family living there, but we aren’t safe to travel in the open. Groups of rebels are rising up and taking back everything on the islands. The Dutch have become their new enemies.”

  Ita didn’t know what it felt like to be Indonesian and have your islands taken over by Dutch colonists. But she did know what it felt like to be put into a prison camp and ruled over by a different kind of people. She didn’t really blame the Indonesians for wanting to rule their own country again, but she knew this probably wasn’t something she should say to other adults.

  It did mean one terrible thing for her, though. Ita no longer had a home. Anywhere.

  Mrs. Vos joined them, walking up with Greta. “We’re collecting all red, white, and blue material. We’re having a flag-making party since the war is over now.”

  They all headed to the house to search for materials. They lived in a house that was close to the gate, which meant they heard all the news before others farther back in the camp. Ita wondered, though, if displaying flags would be a good thing if the Indonesians wanted the Dutch people to leave their islands.

  The mood was happy when they arrived at their house. This was unusual because one family was always crying over the news of a dead father or brother or son. There was no crying right now, though.

  Women and older children had gathered into sewing groups. Blue, red, and white seemed to be the only colors she could see. She’d been told the war was over, and seeing these women busy sewing Dutch flags, sent hope through Ita. Maybe this was all truly real.

  Then the megaphone sounded on their street. Mrs. Vos hurried out so that she’d get all the instructions. It seemed that even with the war over, and Japan surrendering, the Japanese guards at the camp were still making decisions.

  “Lieutenant Sakai has ordered all flag making to stop,” the orders came loud and clear so that Ita had no problem deciphering them. “No flag making, and no singing of the Dutch national anthem. Those who are caught will be severely punished.”

  The women making the flags groaned in disappointment.

  Arguments broke out. Some of the women thought it was a smart idea—they were doing this in too much haste. One woman said, “The Japanese can’t tell us what to do anymore.”

  Another woman argued back, “They still have the weapons and control of the food supply. This is a minor thing to stop.”

  Mrs. Vos came into the house then and held up her hands, her signal for everyone to be quiet and listen. “We must be patient. There is a new government on Java, and it’s no longer Dutch. We don’t want to antagonize the Indonesian rebel groups that roam the villages. We don’t know if the world powers will recognize their declaration of independence, but we must keep order until we know what our next steps are.”

  Ita frowned. She didn’t know what “antagonize” meant, but she’d ask Mama. Or Greta.

  The women continued to murmur and mutter, but they put away their pieces of fabric. This made Ita feel better. She hated the punishments. Since Sonei had left, there hadn’t been the punishments that made the women scream and shout with pain. She didn’t want any of that to return.

  Greta came into the house. Everyone looked at her because she frequently had news that she would share. The women wanted to know why Sakai was forbidding them from making flags and why he was threatening punishments.

  But Greta held up her hand for quiet, just like her mother did to call for attention.

  “The food trucks are getting stopped and looted by the Indonesian rebel groups,” Greta said. “So the trucks will be coming during the middle of the night, but there will be no time to load the dead bodies. This means that we will need to dig mass graves for the dead.”

  The women didn’t respond for a moment. Ita didn’t know numbers, but Greta had told her more people were dying per day now than before, even with more food available. The overeating of foods they weren’t used to was causing just as many problems as starvation had. They were so close to freedom! And now they wouldn’t get to be buried in a proper cemetery?

  The joy of the news of the war ending and everyone making flags had suddenly left the room. The harsh reality of their lives in this prison camp continued.

  “Lieutenant Sakai is no better than Captain Sonei,” one woman cried out.

  Greta set her hands on her hips. “Look outside the gates if you have to,” she said in a fierce tone.

  Ita had never heard Greta sound angry like this.

  “There are rebel groups roaming the area who are attacking anything that has to do with the Dutch people. Do you want the bodies of our loved ones desecrated?”

  Ita moved closer to Mama, who was staring at Greta, horror in her eyes.

  “I know it’s hard to believe, but the Japanese army is protecting us now,” Greta continued, her usually soft voice commanding. “If the Japanese leave, then we are without protection. Some of us can barely run, let alone fight against a mob of Indonesian rebels who haven’t been starving for almost four years.”

  Heads started to nod.

  The megaphone sounded outside, and Mrs. Vos hurried onto the veranda again. This time the announcement was rapid, short. She was back inside in moments.

  “Everyone, listen,” Mrs. Vos said, her voice trembling.

  Was she crying?

  Ita nestled against her mother. What more bad news could there be?

  “Allied troops are coming to the camp to help protect us.” Her eyes gleamed bright. “And there are Dutch prisoners among them. Some of them might be our men.”

  Ita watched women and children scramble to their feet. They hurried out to go watch by the gates.

  But Ita didn’t move. She didn’t want to go wait and watch. It would get her hopes up too much.

  Mama slipped an arm about her. “If Papa is among the men, we will know soon enough.”

  Georgie moved to the battered suitcase that held their precious few belongings. He pulled out the picture of their father and stared at it. Ita’s eyes brimmed with tears. If she was worried about not recognizing Papa, then Georgie was even more worried.

  He looked over at her with his beautiful hazel eyes.

  “If you want to go to the gate, then I’ll go too,” she told her brother, even though he hadn’t asked.

  Georgie wiped at his cheeks, then nodded.

  Ita hoped that her little brother’s heart wouldn’t be broken.

  Mama was smiling though. How could she smile? What if Papa was lost to them forever?

  “Come, we’ll all go together.” She scooped Robbie in her arms, then Ita and Georgie followed her out of the house.

  The roads were abuzz with conversation among women, children playing their games, and smells of people cooking things in their yards. All things that had been suppressed by Captain Sonei.

  Yet, they were still hungry, they were still dying, and they were still prisoners.

  Ita crossed the yard slowly since she didn’t want to hurry just to feel disappointed.

  She and Georgie perched on the sagging fence beneath the shade of a palm tree. From here, they had a view of most of the gate, but they kept out of the crowds of people. A breeze ruffled through their hair—the kind that cooled their sticky bodies when sitting in the shade.

 

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