Not long after we were installed in the new camp, I became aware that one of the guards was taking a lot of interest in me. He was new, presumably a leftover from the time of the men’s occupation. I tried to ignore him and pretend it wasn’t happening. But when he started following me every time I went to fetch water, I realised he wasn’t just checking that I wouldn’t try to make an escape.
The guard was young, probably only about eighteen or nineteen, and like most of the Japanese, myopic and wearing the ubiquitous round spectacles that I came to the conclusion must be army issue. His name was Tanaka and he had a broad, rather plump peasant-like face and didn’t look as though he needed to shave often, if at all. We used to refer to him as Turnip Head.
Everywhere I went in the camp, the y
