Featherston carnage survivor exonerates N.Z. captors

Press, 13 May 1987, Page 21

Featherston carnage survivor exonerates N.Z. captors

Forty-four years ago at Featherston 48 Japanese prisoners-of-war died in a hail of bullets fired by New Zealand guards after a rebellion in a compound when 240 prisoners refused to go to work. A Japanese officer, whose wounding incited the rush towards the guards, returned to New Zealand last year with a group of former prisoners and has written to one of the nurses who tended the casualties. Story: JEFF HAMPTON Photographs from the John Pascoe collection, Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington

A Japanese officer seriously injured in the riot at the Featherston prisoner-of-war camp in 1943 has written to a Christchurch woman who nursed him afterwards.

Toshio Adachi, aged 79, told Joan Wood that the Japanese were responsible for the incident.

Mr Adachi was the Japanese officer shot by a New Zealand guard, sparking a violent reaction from 240 prisoners-of-war who had refused to go to work. Guards opened fire, killing 48 prisoners and wounding 74. One guard died later in hospital. Six others were wounded by ricochets.

“We were educated to die,” Mr Adachi wrote to Miss Wood. “Once captured as prisoners-of-war we were doomed to death.”

He revisited New Zealand last year, and led a P.O.W. group back to the camp site. Japanese prisoners felt shame for their capture. This attitude resulted in “mental suffering,” according to a neutral observer who visited the Featherston camp.

No mail sent in or out

The prisoners felt little hope for the end of the war, particularly if Japan won. To their family and country, they were dead. They expected no consideration from the Japanese authorities if they were repatriated.

The “Official History of New Zealand in the Second World War” says that four men had to be kept under special observation to stop them from committing hara-kiri.

A large number of prisoners in the camp were reported to show signs of mental problems, but some were only temporarily affected.

“ No prisoner in the camp ever received mail from Japan; none sent letters home. The prisoners were reluctant for their handcrafts to be exhibited overseas. One said:. “Dead men cannot

Japanese soldiers ‘doomed to die because of capture ’

send exhibits aboard.” Miss Wood, now retired, calls receiving a, telephone call “out of the blue” in February, 1943, from the Director-General of Nursing. She was asked to leave her private nursing job and go to Masterton to care for Japanese prisoners _>who had been injured in a “riot.” “Many wounded were sent to Mastertdn Hospital. The less Seriously Injured went to Anzac Hall, Featherston,” she says. “The first time I walked into the ward on that hot Saturday in February, 1943, voices were crying in broken English ...

Delighted by flowers

‘water, water’.” Joan Wood says the request was fulfilled because injured prisoners were well cared for. Nurses had discussed the treatment of prisoners-of-war and had reached the obvious conclusion that they would care for their patients as best they could. A temporary ward was set up and divided in two with a kitchen and office between. Staff called the ward "the old tin shed."

Beside the temporary ward was a smaller ward, where the less seriously injured were treated. Doctors and nurses worked overnight to help the wounded.

On Sundays, prisoners were served the traditional hospital dinner of roast chicken.

Miss Wood says the hospital board chairman visited one Sunday. She told him that her brother, John Wood, was a prisoner-of-war in Italy. She asked whether he thought her brother would receive the same treatment. Mr Wood, who now lives in Invercargill, was later sent a pair of socks knitted by a Japanese patient. The patient was one of a number taught to knit by Miss Wood.

She told him, “Thank.you. The socks are for my brother, a prisoner-of-war in Italy.” The Japanese prisoner replied that he was “very sorry” to hear her brother was a prisoner.

John Wood wrote to his sister, marvelling that a Japanese P.O.W. had knitted socks for him. The Japanese patients loved flowers. Miss Wood had found some wild daisies growing near the hospital and put them in the ward. She says the Japanese were delighted, saying: “Oh, sister... hanna, hanna (flowers).” Some of the Japanese had trouble sleeping at night because of a neighbouring salesyard where cattle were penned once a week.

“Did you sleep?” Miss Wood asked one patient.

“No,” he replied. “All night... Booo,” putting his hands to his ears.

Another said that he could not sleep because he thought of his mother and sister all night.

Interpreter and sign language

Some prisoners knew English words and phrases, and the nurses picked up a little Japanese from the camp interpreter, the late Keith Robertson. Sign language was also used to communicate.

Joan Wood says that after 44 years she has only a feeling of goodwill towards the prisoners. She is touched that Mr Adachi should write and thank her for the medical care. “You cannot go on living the past in an atmosphere of mistrust.”

But, she adds, the prisoners wanted to die for their country: “They wanted to commit harakiri and didn’t want to face their own people again.”

Even though a guard was put on the ward, nurses had encountered no problems with security.