War Spy

• Lily Hallam, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2017

Beryl weaved her way across the usually over-crowded streets of Kings Cross, a sense of foreboding tainted the atmosphere. Suddenly her home town seemed as foreign a place as she imagined Tokyo might be. Earlier that day the news had reached them that Darwin had been bombed by the Japanese. Even in Sydney Town people were hesitant to walk the streets. She felt uneasy going to her weekly Japanese tutoring on a day like this, and she worried people would say she was taking the enemy’s side. Beryl was fond of Mr Yakamoto and looked forward to all his lessons. She hoped Mrs Yakamoto had baked an apple pie, and she’d be willing to share. Mrs Yakamoto’s apple pies were amazing.

Beryl entered Mr Yakamoto’s house, which was at the back of the Ice Blocks Store. She passed Mr White, the store owner.

“Quiet Miss, I think the old mans a-sleeping, haven’t heard a peep from him all day.” She nodded and began walking on the back of her heels trying to make as little noise as possible.

Mr Yakamoto wasn’t sleeping but rather, not there at all. On the table in the simple, but tidy kitchen was a letter written in Japanese. She noticed the green paint on the walls beginning to peel just a little bit and in the background she could hear Mr White chipping ice.

She sat to wait for Mr Yakamoto, but her curiosity got the better of her and she snatched up the letter and began to read. Beryl had been learning Japanese for the past four years, so by now was close to fluent reading Kunji. The letter seemed to be addressed to someone in the Japanese High Command. She read on and quickly realised that Mr Yakamoto was congratulating the successful bombing of Darwin and stating that a Sydney attack was an all clear.

Beryl was in shock. How could the kind man she knew be a war spy?


“Dad!” Beryl yelled, “ Theres something you need to know about Mr Yakamoto!”

“May I see the letter?” asked Beryl’s dad after Beryl had finished explaining. She had forgotten to take the letter! Without evidence the military would never believe her. Beryl crossed her arms and slunk into an armchair woefully.

“No one will believe me,” She whined.
“They might if we can stop the letter at the post office,” cried Beryl’s dad with excitement.


“Here it is!” called Beryl. They had searched through enough letters to fill a whole army truck, and they had finally found it.
“We’ve got to get this to the coppers,” said Beryl’s dad.


Later that month, the attack on Sydney Harbour was foiled by the submarine nets put in place because of Beryl’s quick thinking and fast actions.

Beryl walked her way across the now busy streets to Mr Yakamoto’s house. He and his wife had disappeared before the cops could catch him. Beryl was glad he had not been captured, for Beryl was quite fond of Mr Yakamoto still. She sure was going to miss Mrs Yakamoto’s apple pies though. She couldn’t help taking the last piece from her kitchen and chewing it extra slowly to savour the taste, for she might never have it again.