There are loud noises in the air.   The nuns herd us into the little kids’ room to hide under the tables.  But we cannot because the tables are too low.  They rush us to the refectory.  There are not enough tables for all the people there.

Now the halls are filled with people, all talking.  The older girls say that the noises outside are spitfires fighting.

The nuns are taking us to the tunnel that we are never allowed to enter.  It is where the nuns go to their convent.  The older girls giggle as we crowd in there.  There is nothing to see.

The planes stop fighting, and we come out and go back to our classrooms.

At home, our mom says that the planes were bombing the hangar near our house and then fighting right over her.  She stood in the hallway, praying that nothing will hit the house or our school.

We are not even supposed to be in the war.

The Japanese officers who live next door never look at us.  We only see them getting in and out of their cars.  We are not allowed to go near their house or try to look into their windows.  The amahs say they have long samurai swords to cut off our heads.

Spitfire