Page 35 of Sisters Under The Rising Sun

It isn’t long before the first pot is handed out and the procession begins.

A crack of lightning, a boom of thunder and the skies open to dump a tropical downpour on the women. But not a single person leaves the human chain. As they pass the home of the Dutch nuns, Sister Catherina hurries outside to ask what is going on. Within minutes, she has assembled twenty-five nuns, including their Mother Superior, to help with the move. They shuffle into line, seemingly oblivious of the fact their heavy habits are soaking up the rain.

Sister Catherina has become a fast favourite with both the women and children. She is in her early twenties, and her energy and curiosity are dedicated to helping others. She does not limit herself to one position in the line but hurries up and down, lending a hand with heavier objects. Children run around the line, chasing each other in and out of the volunteers. Little hands reach up to pass things along. Singing breaks out sporadically, jokes about joining construction sites when they return home, helping to make the work go quickly, and all too soon, the new houses hold everything the nurses will need. Wishing them luck, the women and nuns wander back to their own accommodation, wringing out sodden clothes.

Over the next few days, the nurses walk past their old homes to report back the activities of local labourers. Beds, settees and even a piano are moved into the ‘officers’ club’.

While the work is still going on, Nesta receives a visit from two Englishmen, Mr Tunn and Mr Stephenson. They are also internees, being held in the town prison, along with several other Englishmen who lived and worked here before the invasion. They have been asked to speak to the nurses.

‘Fetch Jean, and everyone else,’ Nesta instructs Vivian. ‘We all need to hear this.’

When they are all gathered, Mr Tunn begins.

‘I’m sorry, ladies, but we’re here to deliver orders from our captors.’ He pauses for a response; none is forthcoming. He continues, ‘They are demanding that five of you attend their club. Tonight.’ He pauses. Again, nothing. ‘I am so sorry; they are threatening dire consequences if you don’t obey. If it helps, Mr Stephenson and I are to act as barmen in each house and we will be able to keep an eye on you.’

‘It doesn’t help,’ a voice fires out from within the ranks of nurses.

‘Sisters, if you don’t come this evening, they are threatening to start executing internees.’ Mr Tunn removes a scrap of paper from his trouser pocket. ‘Here are the names of those they’ve selected.’ He reads out five names, including Nesta’s.

Mr Stephenson hasn’t raised his eyes from the ground the entire visit. Nesta sees his fists clenching as he struggles to contain his anger.

‘Thank you, gentlemen. We know the way,’ Nesta tells them.

As the two men beat a hasty retreat, Jean suggests they go out into the backyard of the hut to discuss next steps.

‘Can I start by stating what I see as the common denominator amongst those they’ve chosen?’ Jean remarks.

All eyes turn to the five nurses whose names are on the list.

‘That we’re the prettiest?’ one says, not even trying to suppress a smile.

‘Well, there’s that, but I was thinking more of your size and the colour of your hair. There isn’t one of you over five feet and you all have dark hair.’

‘Hey, I’m five feet, two inches – four if you can find me a decent pair of heels,’ another announces.

‘I see what you’re saying. We’re toopetiteto physically intimi­date them. And I guess they don’t like blondes,’ Nesta quips.

‘You could be quintuplets,’ Vivian says.

Everyone manages a small laugh. The tension is easing, but the problem still stands.

‘They only asked for five,’ another nurse pipes up. ‘But what if all of us went – you know, strength in numbers and all that. See what they do.’

For several moments, no one speaks, but then they begin to mutter amongst themselves. They will all go, smile and be pleasant, stick like glue to each other and put the onus on the Japanese to send them away.

‘Or,’ adds the nurse, picking up a handful of dirt and rubbing it on her face, down her neck, ‘we make ourselves as dirty and as unattractive as possible.’

‘And have muddy bare feet with torn clothes,’ Betty contributes.

‘Let’s do it. Everyone, look your worst and we’ll gather back here at sunset. Let’s show these men who they’re dealing with,’ Jean orders.

As the sun begins to set, the nurses gather and get to work ripping up their dresses and smearing even more dirt across any bare patches of flesh.

‘Er, we have a problem. Will you step forwards, Pat?’ says Jean.

Everyone looks around for the nurse named Pat.

‘What did I do?’