Miracles of Life by J. G. Ballard Page B

coal, which I divided between us, then replaced the bricksin the wall.
    My father said nothing when I showed him the coal,though he must have known that I had stolen it from thekitchen storeroom. I soon had it glowing brightly in thechatty outside the rear entrance to G Block, and my fathercarried a warming cup of black tea to my bedridden mother.Both of us knew that he had compromised his principles,but at the same time I felt that I had gained no merit in hiseyes. I take it for granted that if the war had continuedfor much longer the sense of community and the socialconstraints that held the internees together would havebroken down. Moral principles, along with kindness andgenerosity, are worth less than they might seem. At the time,as the glowing coals warmed my hands, I wondered whatHenderson would do with his share of the coal. Later I saw him in the darkness, hurling the pieces into the deep pondbeyond the perimeter fence.
    In late 1944 conditions in Lunghua continued to worsen, notthrough deliberate neglect by the Japanese authorities, butbecause they had lost all interest in us. The food supply fell,and the internees’ health was eroded by malaria, exhaustionand a general resignation to further years of war. TheAmericans had advanced island by island across the Pacific,but they were still hundreds of miles away. The hugeJapanese armies in China were ready to defend the Emperorand the home islands to the last man.
    Nowhere had Japanese soldiers surrendered in largenumbers. Fatalism, fierce discipline and a profound patriotismshaped their warrior spirit. In some way, I think, theJapanese soldier assumed unconsciously that he had alreadydied in battle, and the apparent life left to him was on a veryshort lease. This explained their vicious cruelty. I can still seetwo of the guards beating to death an exhausted Chineserickshaw coolie who had brought them from Shanghai. Asthe desperate man sobbed on his knees the Japanese firstkicked his rickshaw to pieces, probably his only possession inthe world and sole source of income, and then began to beatand kick the Chinese until he lay in a still and bloody pulpon the ground.
    All this took place some thirty feet from me by the rear entrance of G Block, and was watched by a large crowd ofinternees. None of the men spoke, as if their silent stareswould force the two Japanese to end their torment. I knewthat this was a naive hope, but I also understood why noneof the British, all of whom had wives and children, had triedto intervene. The reprisals would have been instant andfearsome. I remember feeling a deep deadness, which mayhave been noticed by one of my father’s friends, who steeredme away.
    I think that by this time, early 1945, I was already (aged14!) starting to worry about the future of Lunghua. I realisedthat the state of Japanese morale was more important thanthat of the internees, and I was glad to see the Japaneseguards helping the internee working parties to repair themain gates of the camp and keep out the destitute Chinesepeasants who had crossed the stricken countryside and werehoping to find sanctuary in Lunghua. Starving families sataround the gates, the women wailing and holding up theirskeletal children, like the beggars who had clustered outsidethe office buildings of downtown Shanghai. If the Japaneseabandoned Lunghua we would be exposed to roaminggroups of militia soldiers, little more than bandits, and tounits of the former puppet armies left to fend for themselves,all armed and eager to ransack the camp.
    I kept careful watch on the barbed-wire fence, and turnedmy back on the younger children still playing the traditionalgames that I forgot when I came to England and sadly never passed on to my own children – marbles and hopscotch, andcomplicated skipping and ball games. I had read the camp’sentire stock of magazines several times over, but I still visitedthe American seamen. Cheerful as ever, they were obsessedwith their pheasant traps, which I