The New Zealand Prime Minister stood to face the two Japanese diplomates who had arrived unexpectedly in a warship that morning. He could not bring himself to extend his hand; although, they looked more absurd then ominous in their dark morning suit, tails and top-hats.
He asked the diplomates to wait outside.
As soon as they left, the Prime Minister slumped into his chair.
"Can I get you something, Sir," asked the Chief of the Defence Force.
"No, I’ll be fine. This is just not something I ever thought I’d have to deal with."
"I don’t think any of us did," remarked the Cabinet Secretary.
"Well, we do. And we’ve little time. Pass me the memorandum, if you don’t mind."
The Prime Minister read the memorandum the Japanese diplomates had brought. The Imperial Japanese government promised to respect New Zealand’s territory, make recompense for damaged property and to repatriate all New Zealanders being held as prisoners of war. All the Japanese asked in return was for the New Zealand government to refrain from armed attacks against them, or to allow third parties to make such attacks from their territory.
"When was the last time where heard anything from our Allies?" asked the Prime Minister.
"Ten days ago, Sir. Before we lost the Trans-Tasman telegraph cable."
"No, short-wave broadcasts."
"We can still hear some South American stations. But they have made no mention of Australia since the reports of Japanese landings near Sydney."
The Prime Minister rested his head in his hand. He had heard nothing but bad news for past six months. Singapore, Dutch East Indies, Philippines and Burma had fallen to the Japanese, and India invaded. In May, an American fleet had been defeated in the Coral Sea and President Roosevelt had resigned!
Turning to the Chief of Staff, the Prime Minister said, "As my military adviser, what do you recommend."
"Sir, I can tell you that if you order the army to resist, most of the troops will do so. We’ve placed caches of arms in the hills and forests so we can continue a guerrilla campaign."
"Is that what you recommend; a drawn out war of attritions, like the Maori wars?"
"No, Sir. I see nothing but futile pain and suffering if we fight on."
Looking at the Cabinet Secretary, the Prime Minister asked, "And your views?"
"Prime Minister, I’m not sure if the troops will obey an order to surrender."
"Yes, yes. I don’t doubt that we be ugly what ever we decide."
"We at least have to make a show of resistance," implored the Cabinet Secretary.
"An ugly choice,’ bemoaned the Prime Minister. "Fight until when. How much spilt blood will be enough!"
"What will you do, Sir?" asked the Chief of Staff.
"I do not know. But I must speak with my Cabinet colleagues. Thank you for your honest counsel. Pass me my hat, please."
The Prime Minister rose, placed his hat and walk out the door with his head bowed.
2 May 2001
Unpublished