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.’‘I thought the Yanks did all that,’ I said, taking a slug of beer.‘They run the military government but we do the lion’s share of cleaning up.Our brass wanted to show the flag, make sure we didn’t get overlooked after the war.We’re in charge of the west of Japan while the Yanks hang round Tokyo having fun.’‘And why have you got that great grin on your face, Kanga?’‘It just so happens, my lad, I’m back here looking for men to help us in our noble task of beating swords into ploughshares and bringing democracy to the Sons of Heaven.’‘What sort of men?’‘Specifically, we need translators, Broome.Odd bods who for some reason have mastered the godless intricacies of the Japanese tongue.Chappies like your good self.’‘Me?’‘You’ve got something better to do?’‘As a matter of fact, no.But I wouldn’t precisely say I’ve mastered Japanese.’‘Even if all you can talk about is those bloody loggers, you’d still be more useful than most.’‘Luggers, Kanga.’He laughed.‘Ah, Broome, you always bite.’‘But join up again?’ I said slowly.‘I’m not sure about that.’‘It’s interesting work.You’d get a commission too – you’d be Lieutenant Whalen.’ He shook his head slowly.‘And Japan’s like nowhere else on earth.Almost conquered half the world but it’s like a bunch of medieval villages.An enigma.You’d love it.’‘Where’s the force based?’‘Around Kure.About fifteen miles from Hiroshima.’‘Hiroshima! What about the radiation?’ Oh, Betty, I thought.‘The boffins say it’s mostly gone.’ He wasn’t smiling anymore.‘Yeah, Hiroshima’s horrible.A giant garbage dump for miles and miles.But trams are running, streets are usable, houses are being built.Still, it’s grim … you see so many burn victims.Orphaned kids, scavenging.And the hospitals barely cope.People still falling sick.’ He laughed abruptly.‘Jesus, Broome.Not doing a very good job of selling you on the place, am I?’‘Nah, you’ve always had the gift of the gab, Kanga, you know that.Look.I’m at a loose end and it sounds more interesting than anything going here.When do I need to decide about it?’‘Now.Come on.Finish your beer, go home and pack your bags.’Rugged up against flurries of winter sleet, Kanga and I leant on the bulwark as our ship steamed into broken-down Kure Harbour.It was January 1947.‘You think this is bad?’ he said.‘Should have seen it when we arrived last year.The largest naval dockyard in the country and the Yanks bombed the shit out of it.Flattened warehouses, burnt-out factories, sunken ships – there was even a wrecked aircraft carrier over there.’‘So this is the place on a good day? Jesus.’‘It’s better than it looks,’ said Kanga seriously.‘You wouldn’t believe the stuff we’ve already cleaned up – mines, torpedoes, drums of poison gas.’‘Poison gas?’‘We reckon there’s thousands of tons of it in secret tunnels all round Hiroshima, maybe ten thousand tons of explosives.The local mayors are very helpful, give you the keys to the tunnels and stand well back.We’ve lost half-a-dozen bomb-disposal men in the last six months.’‘I hope that’s not my job.I was always lousy at demolitions.’He grinned.‘You’ll be teaching basic Japanese to the men, translating newspapers, going in as interpreter for police operations, helping the bigwigs when they’re in town.’‘Do I get much time off? Fact is, some friends of mine are somewhere here – if they survived – old friends from Broome.I want to look around for them.’‘Yeah, plenty of time off.Japanese friends? Okay, but be careful.You know there are stupid no-fraternisation rules, for us at least,’ he said.‘The Yanks can do what they like.’‘How are we supposed to bring democracy to the place if we can’t fraternise?’‘Search me.But it doesn’t really stop anyone.Just don’t get caught.’‘All right.’ I looked along the damaged wharves of the shore.‘Are the headquarters here?’‘No.Over there on Edajima Island, but there are camps all around.Edajima’s got the good facilities – offices, mess, dormitories.The outlying posts are a bit less comfortable.’‘And where are all those enigmatic medieval villages you promised me?’‘In the countryside.You’ll get to see them.If you’re looking for your friends, all you can do is tramp through the towns and ask people.In Hiroshima there are no full records of who died, and no neighbourhoods left in the city to ask around [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]