The Jacaranda House, page 40
And now that they’d been in Malaysia for nearly six months and got the hang of the climate and officially become Victor 4 Company, they did look pretty good, apart from the odd twit like GI Joe and a few individuals who’d already been sent home for disciplinary reasons. But that happened in all companies. And in a few weeks the company would be on its way Up Top, in the wake of the advance party, which had just left Terendak. There’d be a final leave in Singapore and then they’d be off to war, a brand new, untested company. But they wouldn’t be operating alone. Like the New Zealanders before them they’d be attached to an Australian infantry regiment, so they’d be V Company 6 Royal Australian Regiment/New Zealand (Australian New Zealand Army Corps) Battalion. What a mouthful. Sam knew most New Zealand soldiers saw themselves as belonging to 1 Royal New Zealand Infantry Regiment first and foremost, but if they had to include 6RAR in their contact details to make sure they got their mail, they would. No man serving in Vietnam could do without mail from home.
Still, GI Joe was a problem, and he was Sam’s problem because he was in Sam’s section. As a corporal, Sam was responsible for ten men and he thought GI Joe had the potential to be a loose cannon. Unfortunately, he couldn’t recommend he be sent home because, apart from the fact that he talked a lot of gung-ho crap and thought he was an American Green Beret, he hadn’t done anything wrong. Of course, he hadn’t seen combat yet. Things might be a bit different after his first contact. It was never like you thought it was going to be when you did your training. It could be a very rude bloody shock, that first time.
‘Uh-oh, what have you done now?’ Eddie said.
Sam followed his cousin’s gaze. Sergeant Dean Price was making a beeline through the clubroom towards them. ‘Boys,’ he said. ‘Sam, the captain wants to see you.’
Eddie said, ‘Ha, you are in the shit!’
Righting himself after Eddie’s teasing shove, Sam asked, ‘What for?’
‘Dunno. He just said to come and get you.’
But Sam saw that Dean couldn’t meet his gaze, and knew it couldn’t be good news. He followed Dean out of the clubroom and through the garrison compound to Captain Gardner’s office, saying nothing because he knew by now that when Dean Price wanted to keep his mouth closed, he did. The night air was heavy and humid and reeking with the heady scents of kenanga and jasmine, and it had rained that afternoon, which hadn’t helped. Sam could feel sweat trickling down his back and sides. It would be worse Up Top.
‘Hot, eh?’ Dean said.
‘Yep.’
The sergeant knocked on Captain Gardner’s door.
‘Come in!’
Sam entered. Captain Robert Gardner was a solid man with a ruddy face, blond hair and a tidy moustache. Sam liked him. He was straightforward and fair. He was in his civvies – in his office, at night, so Sam knew it must be really bad news.
‘Evening, Sam. Have a seat. This arrived not long ago. It’s not good news, I’m afraid.’ He passed a telegram across his desk.
Sam read the message.
25 April 1969
Dear Sam: Dad had very bad accident yesterday. Not expected to survive. Can you please come home? Patricia xx
Sam briefly closed his eyes. The telegram was from his eldest sister. She wouldn’t ask him to go home if she didn’t think he needed to be there. His father. His father was dying. Stupidly, he said, ‘But we’re going Up Top soon.’
Captain Gardner waved his hand. ‘Compassionate leave. We’ll give you a driver and you can go down to Singapore tonight and get a transport home from Changi. It can’t be helped, Sam. You can catch up with us. You might be back in time anyway. It’s still a couple of weeks away.’
Sam nodded. ‘I . . . shit.’ He rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. ‘Yeah. What happened, I wonder?’
‘Go and pack your bag,’ the captain said. ‘Then see if you can get your sister on the phone. Tell her you’re coming. I’ll get your travel arrangements sorted out at this end.’
‘Thanks.’
On the way back to the barracks, Sergeant Price said, ‘Sorry about your father, Sam. I hope he’ll be OK.’
‘Thanks. Me too.’
‘What work is he in?’
‘He’s on the railways.’
Sam saw the sarge flinch very slightly as he imagined what sort of accident Joshua Apanui might have had.
‘You’ve got a big family?’ he asked.
‘Six brothers and sisters, seven if you count my brother Johnny. He died a while ago. And there’s Eddie’s four brothers and sisters – they might as well be mine.’
‘You two are pretty close, eh?’
‘Like this,’ Sam said, crossing his fingers.
‘You go and sort your kit out,’ the sarge said, ‘and I’ll get Eddie to come and give you a hand.’
‘Thanks.’ Sam was grateful. They both knew he didn’t need help packing his bag, but he would need his best mate while he waited for his ride to be organised.
‘Good luck.’ Sergeant Price shook his hand. ‘See you when you get back.’
Eddie appeared just as Sam finished changing into battle dress and beret.
‘Shit, mate, sorry about your dad. Dean told me. Do you know what happened?’
‘No. Pat just said in the telegram he’s had a bad accident and isn’t expected to survive.’
‘Shit,’ Eddie said again. ‘He’s a tough old bugger, though, your old man. He’ll be OK. You’ll probably get home and he’ll be as right as rain.’
‘Hope so. I’m going to try and ring Pat in a minute.’
‘You got plenty of money?’
‘Enough, probably.’
Eddie stuffed some cash into his top pocket. ‘Here’s a bit more, just in case.’
‘Thanks. I’ll pay you back.’
‘Don’t be dumb. Um, you going home in your greens?’
‘Yeah. Why?’
‘It’s just that Dean said you should probably wear your civvies when you get back to New Zealand.’
They looked at each other. Sam said, ‘I’m not ashamed of my job.’
Eddie shrugged. ‘OK.’
The phones were busy and people were waiting to use them, so Sam and Eddie went outside. A jeep pulled up and the driver hopped out. ‘Corporal Apanui?’
‘That’s me.’
Sam gave Eddie a quick hug.
‘Say hi to your old man for me,’ Eddie said. ‘Tell him to hurry up and get better, eh?’
‘I will. See you soon.’
*
The dark drive down to Singapore in the humid, insect-infested night took about four hours. They arrived at RAF Changi, the British military air base, just before one in the morning, and Sam said thanks and goodbye to his driver, then tracked down someone who could put him in touch with his flight home. He discovered he was going by RNZAF Hercules – a cargo plane – via Darwin to Whenuapai, Auckland, departing Changi in five hours’ time. He’d flown by Hercules before and knew the trip wouldn’t exactly be the height of comfort: noisy as hell, makeshift seats, army sandwiches dispensed from a cardboard box, and a bucket to pee in at the back of the plane. But it was free. He had a feed of potato chips, chocolate and Coke from dispensing machine, tried to kip on a couple of chairs and failed, and made two attempts to ring his family, then on the third try finally got someone – Mary, another of his sisters – at four am Singapore time, which was nine am in New Zealand.
‘It’s me, Sam. I’ve been ringing and ringing. Where is everyone?’
‘Up at the hospital. Where are you?’
‘Singapore. I’m on my way home. How’s Dad? What happened?’
Mary burst into tears. ‘He was at work at the yards and a train hit him. It’s so awful, Sam. The doctors say they don’t know if he’ll pull through.’
‘But what’s happened to him?’
‘He’s lost both legs and they might have to take his arm as well.’
Sam’s heart dropped into his boots. ‘His legs? Both of them?’
‘It was a train, Sam. Mum’s in a terrible state.’
Leaning against the side of the telephone cubicle, Sam felt sick with distress for his parents. And himself. First Johnny dying, and now this. ‘Well, I should be home by tomorrow night. I’m not sure when. I’ll come straight to the hospital. Which one is he in?’
‘Auckland, not Middlemore.’
‘OK. Tell Dad I love him.’
Mary said, ‘He’s not really conscious.’
‘Tell him anyway. And Mum.’
‘OK. See you when you get here.’
‘Yep. Bye.’
Sam hung up and swore bitterly. He couldn’t imagine his quiet, strong, physical, capable father without legs, stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of life.
Maybe it would be best if he did die.
*
He arrived at Whenuapai Air Base feeling tired and ratty and with his ears ringing from the noise of the plane, and got a taxi into the city. Just as he was about to walk through the doors of Auckland Hospital, some bloke poked him in the chest, called him a murderer and told him to get out of Vietnam. What an idiot: he wasn’t in Vietnam, he was in bloody Auckland. He couldn’t even be bothered responding, stepped around him and kept going.
Inside he asked where his father was, and made his way up to the right floor. Ana Leonard and Allie Manaia, the co-owners of his mother and Auntie Wiki’s business, Mana Knits, were sitting on chairs in the corridor, looking pale and weary.
Ana jumped up when she saw him. ‘Sam!’ She gave him a hug. ‘I’d say it’s lovely to see you but it isn’t, not under these circumstances. I’m so sorry.’
‘Hi, Auntie. How is he?’ Sam asked. ‘How’s Mum? Hi, Auntie,’ he said to Allie. They weren’t his aunties but he knew them so well the term of endearment was appropriate. And he was actually related to Ana Leonard, in a complicated way, because Ana, Wiki, and his father were all descended from the same ancestors – Tamar Deane and Kepa Te Roroa.
‘Hello, Sam,’ Allie said. ‘I’m so sorry about your Dad.’
Ana pointed across the corridor. ‘Go in and see for yourself. Everyone’s in there.’
His whole family really was squeezed into the room, except for his little sister Alice, but Alice was special and had always lived in Napier and wouldn’t understand what was going on anyway. His Auntie Wiki was there, too. His mother, Kura Apanui, let out a strangled shriek, and rushed to embrace him.
‘Sam, my boy! You’re here. Oh, your poor father!’
‘Mum, are you OK?’
Sam looked over his mother’s shoulder at his dad, lying in the hospital bed. He seemed to be unconscious. Surely he couldn’t be asleep, not with all the noise everyone was making. A sheet was pulled up to his chest but he could see that his father’s left leg now ended above the knee and the other just below. It looked – bizarre. He was horrified. It was such a mutilation. Mind you, he’d seen similar things in Vietnam. God, his dad would probably never walk again, never mind work. He still had both his arms, thank Christ, but the left one was encased in plaster from shoulder to fingers and suspended by a system of pulleys. A drip snaked into his other arm and he was attached to some sort of monitor. It appeared as though his father was the one who’d been to war.
‘I’m fine, love,’ Kura said, ‘but look what that train did to your dad.’
‘You’re not fine, Mum,’ Sam’s sister, Patricia, said, then everyone started talking at once, and a nurse bustled in and told them if they couldn’t keep the noise down they’d have to leave.
‘We’re not leaving,’ Kura said. ‘My husband needs his whanau.’
‘Then could you please be quiet?’ the nurse replied. ‘He also needs rest. He’s very much not out of the woods yet.’ And off she squeaked in her white shoes.
‘He’s not in the woods,’ Willie, Sam’s older brother, said. ‘He’s in the shit.’
‘You watch your language, son,’ Kura said. ‘This is a hospital, not a public bar.’
‘Why is he still unconscious?’ Sam asked.
‘They’ve got him in a coma,’ Patricia explained. ‘To keep him calm.’
Sam moved over to the bed and looked down at his father. His face was grey and he looked very . . . still. ‘Well, how will they know when he’s out of the woods?’
‘I don’t know,’ Kura said. ‘I can’t understand what the doctors are talking about.’
Willie said, ‘When he hasn’t died.’
Wiki whacked him on the arm. ‘That’s enough from you. If you want to be angry that’s OK, but go outside and do it, not in front of your mother.’
Looking chastened, Willie apologised to his mum. No one enjoyed being told off by Wiki.
‘How long are you home?’ Mary asked Sam.
‘Not sure. We’ll see what happens. I’m on compassionate leave.’
Kura said, ‘But you’re going to Vietnam soon.’ Then her face lit up. ‘Can you tell them you can’t go now?’
Sam nearly smiled. She hadn’t wanted him to go to Vietnam the first time, and she really wasn’t happy about him volunteering for a second posting Up Top. ‘No, Mum. We’ve been training for nearly a year. I can’t let the boys down. And what about Eddie? I can’t let him go back by himself.’
Wiki pecked him on the cheek. ‘You’re a good boy, Sam.’
Sam thought his mother looked terrible. ‘You’re not sleeping up here, are you?’
She nodded.
‘We can’t get her to go home,’ Patricia said.
‘Where, though?’ he asked.
‘On those seats out in the corridor.’
‘Mum! That’s ridiculous!’
‘Why? I’ve always got someone with me. Your brothers and sisters. And Wiki and Ana and Allie have been marvellous, going out for food and drinks for us, driving everyone around and what have you.’
‘You need to go home and get some rest,’ Sam insisted.
‘See, I told you he’d say that,’ Patricia said.
Kura said, ‘What if your dad wakes up?’
‘He can’t,’ Sam replied. ‘Not if they’ve put him in a coma. Look, I’m going to find a doctor and find out what’s going on.’
‘You won’t understand anything they say,’ Kura warned him.
‘Probably not,’ Sam agreed.
He marched down the corridor to the nurses’ station, and waited for the nurse sitting behind the counter to stop writing in her notes and look up. She didn’t.
So he said quite loudly, ‘Excuse me, I’d like to speak to the doctor who’s in charge of Joshua Manaia, please. My father? The bloke who’s just had his legs amputated?’
That got her attention. ‘I’m afraid Mr McBride won’t be doing daily rounds until about nine o’clock tomorrow morning. You can speak with him then.’
Daily rounds? Surely his father was being more closely monitored than that? ‘I’d like to speak to him now, thanks.’
‘I’m afraid you can’t. He’s very busy.’
Sam felt his heart rate increase, and a muscle flicker in his jaw. He inhaled deeply through his nose, then exhaled slowly out through his mouth. ‘Look, Sister . . .’ He read her name tag. ‘Sister Duffy, I just flew back from Malaysia to see my father. I’m deploying to Vietnam in a few weeks. My family don’t really understand what’s going on here. I’d like to be able to tell my mother whether my father’s going to die or not before I have to leave again. Can I speak to the doctor, please?’
Sister Duffy sat for a moment, looking up at him through her spectacles. Then she said, ‘Yes. Of course. I’m sorry. If you’ll just wait here, Corporal Manaia – it is Corporal, isn’t it? If you’ll wait here I’ll find Mr McBride for you. He may be still be in theatre but I’ll do my best.’ She stood. ‘I may be a while. Er, actually, he could be anywhere.’
‘I can wait. Thank you, Sister.’
Sam leant against the wall and crossed his arms. He was patient. He could wait forever if he had to, though he was desperate for a cigarette. A couple of other nurses came and went. Eventually Sister Duffy reappeared with a bloke in a white coat.
‘Corporal Manaia?’ the man said, stepping up and offering a hand. ‘I’m Stephen McBride. I did the surgery on your father.’
Sam shook. ‘Thanks for taking the time to talk to me. I just want to know what his chances are. I know you’ve talked to my mother, but I don’t think she really understood.’
‘No, she seemed pretty distressed. Well, if you’d asked me thirty-six hours ago, I would have said your father’s chances were pretty slim. You’re a soldier so I can be blunt, I assume?’
‘I’ve already done one tour of Vietnam and I’m just off back to do another one.’
‘Right, well, when your father came in he’d already had a traumatic amputation of the left leg above the knee. We couldn’t save that, of course. The right leg was crushed beyond repair below the knee, so that had to come off as well. He also has a fractured pelvis. The left arm has a compound fracture of both radius and ulna with significant debridement of muscle, and a closed fracture of the humerus. We were worried about that but the fingers seem OK so I think he’ll keep it. Might not have full function, though. We’ll see. Fingers crossed. Ours, I mean. So he’s had a massive full-body insult. We thought the shock might kill him but he survived the surgeries and he’s in an induced coma for a few days to give his system a chance to rest and start to recuperate. If he comes out of the coma all right, and doesn’t have any major infections, he should be OK. As for how he adjusts to life in a wheelchair, I’m afraid that’s up to him.’
