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This is one of a series of thirteen unofficial narratives detailing the activities of units of the Third New Zealand Division and its base organisation during their service in the Pacific theatre of war from 1940, when the original 8th Brigade Group was despatched to Fiji, until 1944, when the division was disbanded. Between those two dates the brigade group was expanded to become a division, which came under command of American forces and with them took part in the Solomons campaign.
At the conclusion of active operations in the Pacific, unit historical committees were appointed to select editors and arrange for the compilation and collection of all material, photographs and drawings. Final decisions and arrangements were vested in a Divisional Histories Committee and its editor. All the work associated with the writing and publication of these narratives has been done by officers, NCOs and men of the units and has been performed anonymously.
Acknowledgment is made for the use of unit war diaries and narratives, to which the writers were given access by the archives section of Army Headquarters. Photographs were collected from private and official sources, both New Zealand and American, and the drawings and paintings of two official war artists who went into the Pacific have also been used.
The copyright is held by the trustees of the Third Division.
This Book is Dedicated to
Those of Our Comrades of
The Second New Zealand
Expeditionary Force Who
Take Their Final Rest On
Pacific Islands
Set Up. Printed and Hound in New Zealand By
Hutcheson, Bowman & Stewart Ltd. Wellington
The 30th Battalion was formed at Ngaruawahia in September 1940 as part of the brigade group which, two months later under
Though disappointed in their hope of seeing immediate service in the Middle East, both officers and men settled to their work with commendable keenness. The sudden change of climate, coupled with the many difficulties incident to the establishment of camp routine and the preparation of training programmes under strange conditions, presented unusual problems, but these were gradually solved, and the initial lack of social comforts was more than counter-balanced by the unbounded hospitality extended by the civil population. The prevailing conditions did not make for any great measure of parade ground precision, but field exercises gave ample scope for the development of that toughness and self-reliance which is so valuable in front-line service, while among all ranks there grew up a comradeship that made it regrettable that units eventually had to be split up when the time for transfer came. 'Characters' there were among them but, with few exceptions, both they and those who replaced them maintained under somewhat difficult circumstances the traditional New Zealand standard of conduct and discipline.
As part of the Third Division, the battalion afterwards took part in operations in the pacific. This campaign, though so vital in its in North Africa and Europe, but those who took part in it have the satisfaction of knowing that theirs was an essential contribution towards the ultimate end.
I welcome this opportunity of expressing my appreciation of the work and service rendered by those with whom I was personally associated. To the many who have fallen this record will serve as some measure of tribute; while to those who come through, it should recall many interesting memories.
As the ferry clock tolled the hour of eleven on the morning of 11 November 1940, soldiers thronging the decks of the Rangatira, stood to attention to observe the two minutes of Armistice Day. Hardly had the sound of the siren which signalled the end of the hush subsided, than hawsers were cast-off and the ship slowly moved out from the wharf to the accompaniment of cheers and farewell messages to those on the quay below. With the 30th Battalion on board, the Rangatira, preceded by her escort HMS Monowai, passed down the Rangitoto channel on that sunny November morning, out' ward bound from Auckland for Fiji.
The 30th Battalion was originally formed from men who had entered camp with the first three echelons, the officers and other ranks being withdrawn from mobilisation centres in both islands and sent to Hopu Hopu camp at Ngaruawahia. There they were formed into a mixed infantry battalion and became part of what was subsequently known as B force. The majority of the men of the 30th were South Islanders, the 29th (the other infantry battalion in the force) being comprised mostly of North Islanders. With the exception of certain officers, the association of these men with the 30th was to prove a brief one for, on completion of their tour of duty in Fiji, they were to return to New Zealand and be absorbed in reinforcements proceeding to the Middle East.
Spirits were high among the the troops on the Rangatira on the day of departure, for the prospect of an introduction to island life, a trip home, and then abroad again, lent a pleasant angle to soldiering. For the moment the disappointment at not going to Egypt was forgotten. Days at sea were pleasant, except for those soldiers who Rangatira parted company from her escort and, moving up the coast, passed through the reef to dock at the Lautoka wharf on 14 November 1940. Leaving a company behind to clean up the ship, the remainder of the unit moved by motor transport and by the Colonial Sugar Refining Company's cane train to Namaka, 17 miles from Lautoka.
The camp was still under construction by the 18th Army Troop engineers, and settling in was attended by all the disadvantages of a hot climate and strange surroundings. Showering facilities were inadequate but the Nandi River fulfilled the wants of the troops in this direction. The commander of the battalion was
On 25 November there occurred one of those many scares that troops in Fiji were to come to know so well. Information was received that what looked to be an armed merchant cruiser had been observed off the Momi passage. Confirmation that she was a friendly craft was not obtained and the battalion was ordered to take up battle stations. Our troops had rifles and ammunition, vickers guns and a number of light machine guns, though these were much below the normal establishment. A plane from the RNZAF flight at Nandi, piloted by the late Flight Lieutenant Griffiths, flew over the ship and after much difficulty he exchanged signals to confirm that the vessel was the Monowai, Liaison between the services, it was said officially afterwards, was poor. The boys expressed themselves in much less euphemistic terms.
'We were like a bunch of tramps in those days' says one old Fiji and Middle East veteran. 'We were issued with shorts that had been stowed away in ordnance stores since the last war. The metal buttons had rusted through on to the cloth. The shirts, also of World War I vintage, started to rot across the back. Our felt hats
The band arrived from Samambula before Christmas, and on Christmas Day preliminaries were carried out for the sports which were held on Boxing Day. Next day, his Excellency the Governor of Fiji, Sir Harry Luke, KCMG, accompanied by
On 20 February word came of a hurricane warning, and tents were struck and men moved with their gear into the mess rooms which were reinforced with cross beams. The Nandi River rose 20 feet but the camp was spared the full force of the hurricane. Suva, on the other hand, was in the direct path of the blow and sustained considerably more damage than did the western side of the island. Power lines were down all over the island and communications were maintained only with difficulty. The camp at Momi was blown down by an 80 miles an hour wind and the 35th Field Battery's camp there suffered a similar fate. By 22 February the gale was a spent force and the men at Namaka were able to move back into their PWD tents.
All roads led to the Lautoka hostelry on Saturday afternoons, although some men preferred to stay in camp to do their drinking, where beer was but half the half-crown charge for a bottle in the township. One still remembers that 17 mile trip to Lautoka with a suicidal 'wog' driver at the wheel. Apparently the Indian drivers thought that to be passed by any other station waggon was to lose face in the eyes of their customers. Town picket was a job to be avoided if possible, for many soldiers found the combination of heat and several beers too much for them, and had perforce to be conducted home. The town's restaurants were fully taxed by soldiers eager for a change from the uninteresting army diet. A soldiers'
Indian tailors found their services much in demand making shirts, shorts, and a more presentable version of a 'monkey jacket' than was the issue one. At night there was the cinema or perhaps a dance at the CSR hall to attend, although most preferred to make their way home after tea with their purchases of dress lengths, silks, tortoise shell and other souvenirs. Taxi drivers appeared to be fair game, for some soldiers were known to stop the taxi at the guard house in order to hand in their leave passes, and fail to return to pay their fare.
Of many 'don'ts' proclaimed to the troops two were continually stressed—'Don't fraternise with the natives and don't enter their villages unless you are invited.' All villages were out of bounds after sunset. It was soon apparent to everyone, after their arrival on the island, that the Fijian people were a very likeable race, and the natives themselves were very happy to welcome any self-invited soldiers who visited the villages. It wasn't long before the peculiar qualities of the native drink, kava or yaqona, were being related and descriptions given of native dances or ta'ra-la-las as the Fijians called them. Native dances in Lautoka were of course taboo, and any soldier who ventured on the dance floor was very quickly escorted off it, forcibly if necessary, by the provosts.
'A11 the men sit round the room' said George in describing a ta-ra-la-la in a village 'and then a bula girl sidles up to you and with a hissing noise and a hitch-hiking gesture, indicates that she wants you for a partner. Side by side, with arms round each others waist, you do a shuffling mincing step to the chant of the younger kiddies and the older women. After a while the combination of coconut oil and BO—boy!'
Saweni beach, on the road to Lautoka was a popular visiting place on Sundays, and on one occasion the motorists of Lautoka arranged a trip to the beach for 100 men. Nandi township was somewhere to go to fill in a few hours, perhaps to order a pair of sandals from the local Indian shoe maker, watch the Indians playing soccer, and then adjourn to the back of one of the local Chinese stores for a cup of tea and to hear the latest gossip. Life was quite bearable and each month's service brought one nearer a trip home. Mosquito nets
It had always been the intention of force headquarters to give troops on the eastern and western sides of the island an exchange of roles, for although Namaka had the better climate, Suva had the social amenities and places of entertainment. Orders were issued for the change over and by 7 March the whole of the 30th Battalion was installed in Samambula camp while the 29th Battalion had moved to the vacated Namaka camp. On 10 March Brigadier Cunningham, accompanied by
The unit found its sectors on this side of the island very different from the lonely mosquito ridden stetches of Nandi and Momi Bays. Work already begun by the 29th Battalion on the positions at Lami, Suva town and Suva Point was continued by the 30th. It was hardly fair to site a section post outside the bar-room door of the Metropole Hotel—at least that's how the sergeant felt about it although the men considered it a very good idea—even if it was an expensive one. It was usual to march down to the sector from Samambula camp in the morning, passing the neat little Indian girls in their pink uniforms going to school. The troops arrived with their shirts, such as they were, sopping with perspiration but in the interests of the white man's prestige, shirts were not allowed to be removed in public. Coming as they did from a white man's country, the men found it difficult to appreciate the position of the white residents of Fiji, who are so very much in the minority. After lunch, which the quartermaster brought down from camp, one could go for a stroll round the town in hobnail boots, and perhaps just pop one's head in the door of the bar of the Garrick to see if any friends were
Some days were devoted to training in the camp area, which was preceded by an inspection and sometimes a battalion parade. Clothes, apart from their condition, had to be clean, both sides of web brass polished, web scrubbed white, scabbards blacked and all mason bee nests extracted from the bores of rifles. Instruction followed through-out the day ranging from a little revision of 'one-Stop-two' to the ever popular 'cover from view'. It is related that a corporal, while giving instruction on the lewis gun, held up the feed arm pawl, and asked one of the class, who was partly Maori, to name the part. The private scratched his head for a moment and pondered. A big grin came over his face and then he replied—'Him te mess orderly.' Which reminds one of another Maori in the battalion who in spite of his almost incorrigible behaviour which brought him before the colonel on numerous occasions, still retained the happy ingenuous traits of his race. 'You know,' Colonel Mawson said to him, 'you keep on coming before me and I have to keep on punishing you. I'm going to ask you this time what would you do if you were in my place?' The Maori hesitated and then with a twinkle in his eye said—'Sir, if I were you—I'd give him another chance.'
Platoon stunts took place on the hill among the guava trees at the back of the camp. These normally ended with the 'I saw you first' arguments until dismiss for the day sent everyone scurrying for the showers. Dinner was at five o'clock and the evenings were generally free. Letter writing and reading occupied the men at night, providing they could survive the banter and chaff of their companions who might have returned from the wet canteen. Attendance at the wet canteen was dependent on the nearness to, or distance from, pay day. The rendering of 'There's a troopship just leaving Fiji' was best heard on pay night. A picket of sergeants was on duty at the wet canteen at nights, their main job being to prevent the smuggling of beer from the compound. Many were the subterfuges employed to get it out. Some preferred to suspend the bottle inside their trouser leg from a string on the belt, others found that a bottle could be carried out in one's sock, while still others pushed it under the wire netting to collect later.
Back in the hut the inevitable ukelele would appear, and all would join in singing sentimental songs of home and mother, or the always popular south sea island melodies. 'Lights out' came at 10 o'clock,
On Anzac Day, 25 April 1941, a ceremonial parade was held at Albert Park, Suva, and was inspected by Brigadier Cunningham. Each day now brought its contribution of rain towards the 120 inches average annual rainfall. The wet weather syllabus consisted of weapon training, sand table exercises and lectures on the role of the troops in the Suva area. Football and hockey were played at Albeit Park on Wednesdays, while at the week-ends games were played against local civilian teams. The time was now drawing near for the relief of the garrison by fresh troops from New Zealand. On 23 May there arrived in Suva on the Rangatira the first section, first relief, some of whom were posted to the 30th Battalion. The 29 May saw the first exodus of men returning to New Zealand. On 18 July the troops were inspected by
All newly arriving troops were dubbed 'white leghorns' by the old hands who were tanned by months of tropical sun. It was a term which aptly described the reinforcements when they made their appearance in shorts, displaying pink knees and white legs.
Although not conscious of it at the time, many of the new draft were to remain associated with the 30th Battalion for the next three years. It was the policy of the army at this time that those serving in Fiji would be recalled at the end of six months' service and posted to a reinforcement for the Middle East division. International events of far-reaching effect were to change this plan. On 2 September Lieutenant-Colonel J. Irving, ED, took over the command of the battalion, Lieutenant-Colonel Mawson having returned to New Zealand.
Work continued on the posts on the Suva waterfront, and route marches were weekly affairs along the Tamavua Road, or past Queen Victoria college to the government experimental farm at Nasinu, where troops could strip off for a swim. The Cascades, near the Tamavua hospital, was another delightful swimming place. Marches usually brought a crop of dhobies itch or ringworm sufferers to the RAP. It was not an unusual sight to see the boys hopping round like mad things after the orderly had applied the stinging brilliant green to the affected tender parts. Some preferred the technique of fanning the unmentionable spot with their felt hats. Guards were mounted at the Nausori aerodrome, personnel doing their own cooking for the time they were there. The oncoming guard found the local Fijian kiddies waiting with bananas, cooked tapioca, or coconuts to exchange for butter or bully beef. The more astute Indians, having studied their market, arrived with eggs or sometimes dressed chickens. The quarter guard on duty at the main gate at Samambula had the task of inspecting and collecting all leave passes. Engineers, army service corps and artillerymen had billets within the camp and the guardhouse was always fairly well patronised by those who had
White residents of the Colonial Sugar Refining Company's staff at Nausori very kindly entertained small parties of soldiers in their homes for the weekends, and on one occasion the good folk of
In the Street of all Nations, soldiers rubbed shoulders with Fijians in their white sulus, Hindus in their dhotis and accompanied by their Indian womenfolk, who carried themselves so gracefully, dressed in pastel shaded and sequined saris. Many of the boys liked to mingle among the natives thronging the street market places where traders sold bundles of live crabs, fish, fruit, vegetables, and strong smelling" locally-grown tobacco twist which was sold by the foot. In the evening the town's dance halls were well patronised, not only by soldiers but also by visiting naval crews. The girls were an assorted crowd of half and quarter caste Fijians, Samoans, Indo-Fijians, some with shoes and some without, some very attractive and some almost repulsive. In contrast to these affairs were the weekly dances held at the New Zealand soldiers club, which had been erected by the rendezvous on Sundays and a cup of tea at the soldiers club ended a pleasant afternoon.
Unfortunately the unit was not to know the pleasure of Suva's amenities for very long. On 12 September orders came through to cease work on the defence sector, in view of the contemplated move to the western side of the island. The war diary records that since the month of June the unit had used '21 miles of wire, made 330 knife rests, erected 4,200 stakes on the beach and in the mangrove swamps, cut 2,500 feet of mangrove posts for roofing, and filled and used 25,500 sand bags'. A battalion advance party left for Namaka on 12 a September, while the remainder of the unit continued with crating and packing. It was arranged that the 29th Battalion which was vacating Namaka camp for Samambula would use the southern route. On the 18 September the 30th Battalion moved out of Samambula, taking the northern island route and passing through on its 157-mile trip, Kurovou, Nayavu, Raki Raki,
Films were screened at night within the camp area, and a charge of sixpence was made, although a few hard-up souls preferred to see the show from Scotsman's hill. All the shows were years old but that didn't lessen their entertainment value with the boys. Films which got the greatest amount of abuse portrayed the idyllic life of the south sea islands. Spread out on their ground sheets, the audience chewed peanuts, drank ice-cold soft drinks, flicked cigarette butts at the screen and passed caustic and generally unprintable comments on the actors and actresses. As always the Hollywood glamour girls aroused the all-male audience to howls of delight. One film cutie was taking a bath when an anguished cry came from the audience—'Pull the plug out!' As one soldier expressed it after a show—'The love scenes were a little drawn out and upset my morale.' For those who preferred it the wet canteen was open every night and one could retire to the pallisade and drink as much beer as finances would allow. Picketing the wet canteen was an unenviable
e a souffrir (Born to suffer). Slat beds were now in use but without the comfort of a palliasse, and only the thickness of a native mat and a few copies of old newspapers save one from the rigours of the sharp edged slats although to sleep on one's side was almost impossible. Lights out sounded at
The procedure within the battalion now was to have one company and a platoon of D company at Momi Bay, one company on camp duties, and one company on training. Since water was inadequate at Momi, arrangements were made with the CSR Company to have additional supplies brought by the cane train, and work was started on constructing a siding. Bren guns had now come to hand, replacing on an increased scale the old lewis machine-guns. On 13 November the large bure at Momi, which was used as a mess room, was accidentally destroyed by fire in the early hours of the morning.
In November Major-General E. Puttick, CB, DSO, Chief of the General Staff, accompanied by the Hon. F. Jones, Minister of Defence, paid a short visit to Momi Bay and Namaka camp. A night march of 13 miles to Saweni beach was made in November, breakfast brought out from camp by truck. Brigadier L. Potter, DSO, commander of the western side of the island, made an inspection of the battalion on 25 November. One of the accompanying officers noticed that the haversack of one of the soldiers lacked the symmetry and neatness displayed by the others.
'Have you got a groundsheet in your pack, my man?' he asked.
'No sir. Why, do you think it's going to rain?'
It was necessary to strike some of the tents at Momi, and return them to Namaka where they were to be made available to the civil construction unit, consequently only one platoon was retained in defence there. On 28 November an advanced party of 40 civilians of the aerodrome services personnel was accommodated in a camp to the north of Namaka. When the remainder of their unit arrived the battalion cooks had the task of cooking for 440 extra men. On 19 December, the Prime Minister of New Zealand, the Right Hon. F. Fraser, accompanied by the Hon. P. Webb, made a brief inspection of the camp. By this time many of the troops had served the supposed six months' tour of duty on the island but any signs of a projected move to New Zealand were not forthcoming. Indeed
On Christmas Eve came a hurricane warning. Precautions were taken and although it blew hard the island did not receive the full force of the gale. With the advent of Japan's entry into the war, it had been decided to have a formation of two brigades, plus ancillary units, garrisoned on the island. It is at this stage that the 14th Brigade comes into being, having as its role the defence of the western side of the island. In order to make room for the newly arriving battalions, the 35th and the 37th, it was necessary for the 30th Battalion to vacate Namaka camp. It was the intention eventually for the unit to camp on its battle sector at Momi, but as that area was not ready for troops, Thuvu, near Singatoka, was selected as a temporary bivouac. On New Year's Day, 1942, A company relieved B company at Momi Bay. In the course of the next few days the remainder of the battalion moved by motor transport to Thuvu. On 10 January battle positions were taken up by the battalion at Momi, but the companies returned next day to their camp at Thuvu. One wondered at these times just what were the precise reasons for taking up battle stations. That there were very good reasons for doing so there is no doubt, for 'Pearl Harbour—7 December' was but a month past. Constantly rumours were bruited about of unidentified aircraft overhead at nights, of allusions to Jap aircraft carriers and task forces.
Thuvu was a bright interlude in the battalion's stay in Fiji. In a setting of flowering flamboyant trees, camp was made in and round the CSR company's houses. On 27 January Lieutenant-Colonel H. A. Pattullo, MC, assumed command of the battalion. Duties were reduced to a minimum while at Thuvu, these consisting of the checking of boats, mapping work, and the surveying of possible new roads at Momi. NCOs attended the Natambua school of instruction, some of the seniors acting as instructors on the school staff. Instructors
Many will hold that the grimmest assignment the 30th Battalion carried out was its seven months tour of duty on the Momi Bay sector. The soul-searing monotony of life was relieved only by mail days. Of entertainments there were none and only a varied assortment of rumours gave a fillip to the deadly sameness of garrison duties. The food was poor and if leave was available where could one go? There was nothing to do but get up in the morning, throw on a pair of mud bespattered shorts or underpants, a pair of boots (socks for 'cissies') and dig and sweat, and swat the mosquitoes that drove one to distraction. But if life was dour, and it was easy for everyone to fall victims to apathy or what the Fijians call malua, there always prevailed that camaraderie among the boys which produced laughs and good natured banter; that feeling which allowed them to become inured to tinned yellowtail for breakfast, to kumala, dalo and tough stringy beans, to sweating by day and night, to long intervals between mail days, to bouts of dysentery and the pin pricks of communal life.
Fiji has few openings in the reefs which girdle the islands of this group that are navigable to large ocean going vessels. Navulu passage, the break in the reef opposite Momi Bay, is one of them. Enemy invasion ships attempting to land on the western side of the island would aim to pass through the Momi passage, as it was generally called. It was the 30th Battalion's role to repel any forces attempting to land in the area and the battery's task to fire on enemy ships trying to negotiate the passage. To recall, though not in detail, the dispositions of platoons at Momi, on the western side of the bay at Nambila near 'A' beach was one platoon of D support company. At 'B' beach was B company while one platoon of A company was on 'C' beach. The remainder of A company was bivouacked roughly
'By gee there's a lot of bones in this "stoo".'
'You're dreaming Nobby.'
'Cripes, it's one of the teeth of my dentures.'
One day was very much like another at Momi. 'What did you do all the months you were at Momi,' you were asked. 'Dig,' you replied with ill-concealed feeling. 'How long do you think we'll be in Momi,' one soldier asked his mate when they were working on their platoon positions. 'Till all of it's in sandbags,' his pal replied. Many months later, in the Solomon Islands, a party had been detailed to dig a latrine. An officer came along to see how the job was progressing and found one man in the hole and the remainder sitting round looking on. He was informed it was an 'exhibition' dig. 'What do you mean, an exhibition dig?' The digger in the hole, paused in his labours, pushed the jungle cap off his brow and replied —'Well you see sir, I was in Fiji.'
Work consisted in revetting positions, many of which were dug in sand, wiring in the sea among the mangroves, and cutting fire-lanes. Not the least part of one's work was in squashing black and white jerseyed mosquitoes which bred in the stinking mangrove swamps. Soon after arrival at Momi stand to's were ordered at first light and sunset. This continued for a week and in March all light machine-guns were ordered to be mounted for anti-aircraft defence. Route marches were carried out and they were something to be
Route marching was particularly irksome at Momi for there was nothing to see but canefields, bald, sunburned hills and the sweat trickling down the neck of the man in front. You plodded on, changed your rifle from one shoulder to the other and thought of home and beauty. If somebody up in front said—'Mail today fellers' —your step grew lighter.
On February 21
Natives came to the company areas, selling mandarines, oranges or bananas. They also collected and returned laundry, for which they made a very small charge. Old Malachi—most Fijians are given Biblical names—and his wife visited a platoon area one day and in yarning with the boys Malachi adopted the familar native crouching position. Unfortunately the old boy failed to notice a live cigarette butt on the ground. It came in contact with a particularly sensitive part of his anatomy and he leapt about six feet into the air. None laughed louder than his wife. One night some of the lads went down to Momi village for a short kava session and ta-ra-la-la. That this was not an uncommon practice was probably known to Colonel Patullo but, on this occasion he decided to raid the village. When the unmistakable Scottish accent of the colonel was heard in the darkness of the village the cry went up—'It's Pluto!' Amid the confusion and dousing of lights several got away but the colonel was able to get the names of five soldiers. 'It's nae domned guid,' he told them. However, the boys were let off lightly with a reprimand. It was in the early days in Namaka that Colonel Patullo had a penchant for shooting, after lights out, the stray mongrels that roamed the
In April many of the troops—one hesitates to use the word 'celebrated'—observed the anniversary of one year spent in the expeditionary force. The beer ration was one bottle of Australian beer for each man a day, that is, of course, when supplies were on hand. Cakes from home were never more welcome than they were at Momi, although the parcel mails were infrequent. Evenings were spent playing cards by candle light, writing letters or just talking.
'Mind you,' Lofty would say, 'I don't blame any man for being born in the South Island but I do blame him for not getting out of it as soon as he can walk.'
'Break it up you fellers,' says another tent mate, 'it's nine o'clock and time for a cup of tea.'
'Nine o'clock is it,' says Butch, 'the wife will be just feeding the baby now.'
'The bottle, Butch?'
'Bottle be damned!' replies Butch.
Leave was available, but there was nowhere to go. Occasionally a truck took a party to Singatoka, or you could hop aboard a cane sugar train to Lautoka, but it might take a whole day to get there, during which time you were never certain that it was going the whole way. Many will recall a picture of Lieutenant Coles looking very much like the nabob of Momi, ensconced in a deck chair on a carriage —if you could call it that— of the cane train replete with cigar, topee and book. Only the punkah wallah was missing.
As always, when a battalion is decentralised, as was the 30th at Momi, tentage becomes a problem. In order to provide tents for storehouses in company areas, larger numbers of men were crowded into tents than was normal. To alleviate the position a comprehensive building plan was carried out under the direction of Lieutenant Jack Kirk, who had as his chief assistants Sergeant Breen and Cor' poral E. M. Sutherland, of the pioneer section. Weeks of hard work beset by unexpected difficulties, went into the construction of the native huts. Before the necessary timbers could be obtained it was necessary to have the permission of the native chiefs from whose domains it was desired to take the materials. Working parties were sent out to cut main posts from nukinuki trees. Another party spent six weeks camped about 25 miles away, obtaining wattle saplings. These were cut on an island opposite their encampment. A price was agreed upon by the Fijians for the supply of bamboo, most of which was cut in the hills three miles from camp, but some was brought by battalion transport from the village of Nanduri, 50 miles away. The pioneers constructed the framework of the bures, while the thatching was done by a party of Fijians under their head boy, Charlie, and a party of Indians under Sami Nathan. The thatching used was a reed-like grass growing on the hills 25 miles away. Something similar to the New Zealand snowgrass, it is cut and dried by the Fijians and sold in bundles. Headquarters company, when finished, was the replica of a native village. The largest bure, measuring 68 feet by 16 feet, was used as sleeping quarters for 32 men. All told, between 70 and 80 bures were built throughout the battalion area, and these by relieving overcrowding did much to make life more tolerable at Momi.
Assisted by sappers from the engineers unit on the sector, the battalion medical officer, Captain McIver, had built a small hospital, mostly from materials which had been scrounged. One happy feature of his institution was the hot baths which were supplied to patients, an old acquired copper being used for the boiling of the water. Headquarters company personnel will recall the incident of a mysterious fire in the officers mesa bure, in the wee sma' hours. The officers that previous evening had had a particularly merry time entertaining some visitors. An irate company commander ordered every man out of bed at first light. 'Fix it up, and before breakfast, too,' he said. It was.
Every soldier is familiar with that word 'acquired'. It is a term which in civilian life would have a far more ugly equivalent. Numbered amongst famous acquisitions at Morni were (a) a concrete mixer (b) a player piano and (c) a refrigerator. The mixer was instrumental in being able to put down concrete floors in several of the bures. Concerning the piano, two musically-minded members of the battalion, Lieutenants A. Sanft and N. Felton, wished to stage a concert. The civil construction unit working on the aerodrome at Nandi had recently evacuated a camp leaving behind a player piano. One night a party pulled into the camp round about midnight, and the sentry 'a white leghorn' asked 'whaffor'. 'Oh it's all right. We've just come for the music,' he was told. The sentry gave a hand to load the piano. The concert was a very enjoyable show, with the floor of a motor truck used as the stage. But there was some raising of eyebrows higher up, and the piano was ordered to be returned—or else. It was strange that the piano should find a home later in the brigade officers mess. When the refrigerator made its appearance in camp it caused some misgivings on the part of the colonel, who regard it as 'too hot to handle'. That had to go too.
On 13 April one platoon from each of the rifle and machine-gun companies went out on a week's tactical exercises with a guerilla platoon acting as enemy. A and D company platoons went from Lomowai bridge to Momi, between the road and coastline; C company men went to Nawau, Yako, and Nambila, while B company platoon manouevred in the Kabuna village, Koranavu, and Nawau areas. Afterwards other platoons moved over the same territory, in addition to the Savu Savu river regions. A parade of all units in the Momi area was held on the recreation ground near Cemetery Hill on 28 May, when his Excellency the Governor-General of New Zealand,
On June 16 President Coolidge. Next day battle-dress and winter under-clothing were issued to the men. Leave parties were allowed ashore for two hourly periods during the day. On the day before sailing many of the troops failed to report back at the reserve near the wharf at the expiration of their leave and officers and NCOs had to make a tour of the town bars to round up the stragglers. At 7 o'clock in the morning, 3 July, the President Coolidge cast off from the wharf. In addition to the 30th Battalion there were the 29th and 35th Battalions and artillery units on board. Indeed the ship was so crowded that it was only possible to give the men two meals a day. This magnificent ship was later in the war to strike a mine in the harbour of Espiritu Santo, in the New Hebrides. She still lies there. The transport arrived in Auckland on 6 July and berthed at the Princes wharf. Troops were taken to Papakura Gamp where they remained until travelling warrants, leave passes and pay had been issued, and then they proceeded on 14 days leave.
Momi days were not allowed to pass unrecorded for the Momi Meteor published in lighter vein those happy and less happy moments in Quality Gully, on Signal Hill, in Wogs Valley, in The Crematorium, or Frying Pan Flat. Here is the news sheet's mast-heard. 'The Momi Meteor (With which is incorporated the Lords Lane Gazette, The Momi Moaner and the Wogs Valley Weekly). Registered at the GPO, Thuvu, as an illegal publication.' During its lifetime of 155 consecutive issues, it had three editors. Its first editor and founder was
Among contributors who will be remembered are 'Deejay', 'Ale' and 'Algy'. This was 'Observer's' contribution on 'Rank in the Army'.
Promotions:
Guide, new recruits, for the use of.
Advertisements were accepted and this one recalls the battalion's real estate building programme.
Bula & Sons Unlimited (Managing Director H. M. Kirk).
Let him explain our terms himself so that you can make an early start.
Limited number of catalogues still available. Stocks of reed, donga, and bamboo.
Our Motto:
Nothing to Pay—Do It Yourself the Bula Way.
The roving reporter of the Meteor, after a little snooping, turned in an account of a scene down at B company commander's tent.
Officer Commanding (hot under the collar): 'Where the h— are my boots? I'll bet
Company quartermaster-sergeant (soothingly): 'These are your boots here sir.'
OC (still irate): 'Damn it, no! He's taken them I tell you.'
CQMS (as to naughty child): 'But these ARE yours sir. Try them on.'
OC (still fuming but trying them on): 'By cripes you're right. I didn't recognise them—the b—things have been cleaned!'
Famous phrases were recorded as special features in some of the issues. The first in the series relates how after a particularly wordy session on the phone with the colonel, the transport officer totters out of the tent, distraught and shaken and says—'Do I look like toilet paper—I've just been torn up for some.'
Inspired by that pathetic and forlorn cry, 'Whenna we goin'
Extract from the Auckland Daily Wail, 17 November, 1968.
'Today witnessed the return home from overseas service of the last of the 2nd NZEF. Looking remarkably fit and well in spite of their extreme age, the now famous 30th Battalion returned from Fiji where they have been stationed since 1940. Touching scenes occurred at the wharf where the proud young fathers of 27 years ago were introduced to their grandchildren. After family greetings were over the men were led by their colonel, whose white locks shone in the sunlight, up Queen Street to the tune of 'It makes no difference now". At the Town Hall they were accorded a civic welcome and each man drew his allotment—£2,500. These men were so well wired in, in Fiji, that it was only with difficulty that they got out. The word "withdrawal" had been deleted from local vocabularies. It was only when he was informed that fat lambs were £2 a head and wool 3/-a pound back in Hawke's Bay, that the colonel had the word "withdrawal" reinstated.'
Many will associate with Momi songs and ballads, the strains of which, especially on beer nights, drifted from one hill encampment to another. This is one which everybody will remember—
'For the Duration' (to the tune of 'South of the Border').
A song which every soldier in Fiji came to know was 'Isa lei' and here it is with its Fijian words and English translation.
There were not the facilities for sport at Momi that all would have liked, but nevertheless some very keen and enjoyable rugby was played on the recreation ground near Cemetery Hill. Inter-platoon and inter-company games were played, which created good natured rivalry and an endless topic for talk over a bottle of Green Label. A battalion team played and defeated brigaded units by II points to 6. A game was also played against the 37th Battalion which the 30th won by 12 points to 8. A team representing the western side of the island included the following members from the 30th Battalion:— Allen, Bellis,
The main body of troops had returned from leave to Papakura Camp by 28 July. On 4 August the battalion marched out of Papakura to a camp at Karaka North, which had been erected for and recently vacated by American soldiers. The camp was a comfortable one, although its distance from the railway station militated against frequent leave. Many changes took place among the personnel of the unit. Reinforcements were needed to replace those who had been medically boarded and these came in the main from Hawke's Bay and Taranaki territorial regiments. Lieutenant-Colonel Patullo relinquished command of the battalion, in whose stead
The general officer commanding the Third Division,
In common with all other units of the Third Division in the Auckland area, plans were being made for the evacuation of the battalion to the Waikato. American troops were due to arrive in Auckland and all available camps were to be handed over for their use. In the draw for camp sites, Colonel Macnamara drew Matamata, which was a very happy choice for his unit. On Sunday, 4 August, Padre Nairn, the battalion's new chaplain, conducted his first church service with the unit, this being followed by a short address from the colonel. The next day the battalion marched out of Karaka en route by foot for Matamata racecourse. As a prelude to the longer maches to follow the first leg was but a short one to the Pukekohe recreational grounds. Troops attended the local cinema that night and on returning to the bivouac, bedded down under the hedges of the reserve. In the morning the companies, joined by the 35th and the 37th Battalions whose final destinations were Waiorongamai and
Everyone retains pleasant memories of his associations with Matamata. A battalion of strangers marched in but friends were legion by the time it came to leave. Flashbacks to those days of 1942 show
The 'battle of the Kaimais' was devised as an exercise to bring out the lessons of supply, the tactical side being a secondary one. The Kaimai mountains were chosen as a venue most likely to simulate jungle conditions. Rain fell for the greater part of the six days in the hills, and greatcoats, battledresses, blankets and bread were saturated alike. Fires ringed with infanteers burned throughout the night and caked the mud into one's clothes. The issue of a tot of rum in the evening was doubly welcome, for sleep was well nigh impossible. Water and food, rations consisting mainly of bully beef and biscuits, were hand carried up the greasy, jungle-like slopes. It was an exercise that tried one's endurance but nevertheless it was one from which the men felt they had learned something. On the seventh day, 28 October, the troops returned to the racecourse camp, It was on this day that a battalion advanced party left for an overseas destination. New battledresses were issued to the men, while the battalion availed itself of a kind offer made by the womenfolk of Matamata to launder those soiled in the Kaimai. Personnel within the next few days proceeded on 14 days embarkation leave.
By November 14 furlough parties had returned to Matamata Camp and next day, Sunday, visitors were welcomed and the Matamata brass band was in attendance. Everyone will have his own personal recollections of the final days in Matamata. Suffice it to say that the township and country people were warm hosts to many soldiers at informal gatherings. A concert attended by civilian guests of the battalion was given in the theatre, the officers ballet item providing a good laugh. On 27 November an advanced loading party left for Wellington, while motor transport and motor cyclists left
The United States troop transport President Monroe passed through the Wellington heads on 3 December, 1942, outward bound for Nouméa, New Caledonia. On board was the 30th Battalion and a medical unit. The Monroe was escorted throughout the voyage by a destroyer and the trip was an uneventful one. On 6 December the troopship dropped anchor in the roadstead of Nouméa harbour amongst the largest collection of shipping the New Zealanders had ever seen assembled. Berthing facilities were very limited and a beginning was made by discharging cargo into lighters. The troops remained aboard ship for the next six days until 12, December when half of the battalion disembarked and was taken to Dumbéa transit camp outside Nouméa. Having completed unloading of the ship at the wharf, the remainder of the battalion arrived next evening, Dumbéa became known to the boys as 'starvation camp' for no one had enough to eat and what there was usually consisted of the detested chili con carne—a highly seasoned mince-like mixture.
To understand the role of the New Zealand troops in New Caledonia it is necessary to describe briefly the war situation further north. Fighting against the Japs was taking place in Guadalcanal, for which Nouméa was the main supply base. In the event of renewed invasion tactics by the Japs, New Caledonia or Fiji was considered to be their next objective. Major-General Patch, US army, was island commander and he assigned to the Third New Zealand Division the task of defending the northern half of the island, the American and, to a smaller extent, the Free French being responsible for the southern portion. The 30th Battalion was directed by its brigade commander to the Koumac area, 250 miles north of Nouméa.
After sorting and stacking equipment, half of the unit left Dumbéa for Koumac. A halt for the night was made at Népoui valley staging camp, where everybody enjoyed the best meal they had had since arriving on the island. The journey was continued next day, 16 December, and the convoy pulled into
To those who had known Momi days the signs were unmistakeable. Here was another job of hard graft and pioneering work to be done, of tent sites to be cleared, cookhouses to be erected, mess bures to be built and roads to be made. Once again the men were to make their home in a wilderness, a wilderness of niaouli and guava trees whose sameness was relieved only by the evergreens which grew along the bank of the stream. Two days later the battalion had its full complement under canvas, A company, under Captain Olsen, took over from a small American detachment the defence of the Koumac airfield—an emergency and refuelling air strip. Lieutenant Howatson took his platoon to Pam, 30 miles north on the eastern coast to relieve the Americans who guarded radar equipment. A similar task was assigned to the carrier platoon under Captain Devine, which went south to Gomen. An immediate start had been made on constructing mess bures within the camp. Rough timber requirements presented no difficulties, for the niaouli trees, a species of eucalyptus, proved admirable for this purpose, while its paper-like bark was used for thatching. By dint of hard work the companies were able to sit down to Christmas dinner in the bures. Turkey and ham were on the menu, beer was issued and to each man was given a patriotic parcel. It was a quiet Christmas in those hills with the thoughts of home uppermost in one's mind. On Boxing Day 100 men went south to the Taom River area for a few days to clear a camp site for brigade personnel who had not yet arrived on the island. No one had enthused over the Koumac site when the convoy pulled in, but now that the camp was taking shape, perhaps it wasn't such a bad spot after all. It was just that claustrophobic feeling that seized one and made one scale a neighbouring hilltop to enjoy a view. Looking down, there along the stream's bank nestled the half hidden tents, with the blue smoke from the cookhouses fusing into the background of greenery. Away to the east was that peculiarly shaped landmark—the Corne de Koumac.
Who of you remember New Year's eve? Who could forget it,
'Is Major Keenan in the audience please?'
'Yes, here,' shouted back the major from somewhere in the gloom. You could tell from the tone of his voice that he thought the Japs must have landed up at the airfield.
'Oh hullo major—enjoying the show?' rejoined Master of Ceremonies Koumac Kronicle—
Next morning at a special inspection by the officers not a machine-gun or rifle bore was dirty; not a round of ammunition was missing; not an empty cartridge case was in sight; not a soul had fired a shot. The brigadier was a spectator of the episode and for days the battalion was in disgrace.
One of the first parts of New Caledonia to be settled by the French was Gomen Point and today there still remain the ruins of gendarmerie. The Americans had established on the point a radar station and the task of guarding the equipment from saboteurs fell to the carriers platoon. During their three months' stay they were closely associated with the American signals corps personnel and at all times their relations were happy ones. Cooking for all troops was done by the American 'chefs' and by the time it came to leave all the New Zealanders could eat and cut meat with their forks, while they were well inured to those favourites of the doughboys diet—flapjacks and maple syrup. For once tea had to give pride of place to 'cawfee', but that was because it was properly percolated and not stewed in an urn for several hours. The American custom of eating jam with meat was something the Kiwis couldn't accept. Our boys learned to play baseball and the Americans learned to play cricket; our lads also introduced a simplified form of crown and anchor—just using the two dice! On the other hand, if the Americans included any tricks of the trade in their game of 'shootin' craps', the New Zealanders probably didn't know it. They came to know the impassioned jingles the Americans used to cry for the turn up of numbers—Niner for Carolina, Eighter from Dakata, Pennies from Heaven, Little Joe from Pokino, and one they used for number five—'Five miles from home and the road is muddy'.
A favourite sports at night was the hunting of deer on the prairie-like fields used by the Ouaco cattle station for stock grazing. Carriers and jeeps were used and it was possible by dazzling them with headlights to approach within a few yards of the almost transfixed deer. In view of the very meagre meat ration, venison was a welcome addition to the menu, and it was possible sometimes to send some to the battalion at Koumac. A tactical error was made one night when Jack Home 'bowled over' one of the Ouaco meat factory's beasts. A 'please explain' came from the manager of the factory who, however, let the platoon off lightly. An excursion was made one day to a small atoll off the bay and the party, including some Frenchmen, having arrived on the beach was just in time to see a turtle in the process of laying its eggs. For the turtle this is a fairly lengthy business and the members of the party sat down and waited. Having completed the operation, the turtle covered its 'nest' with sand, and waddling over to the tide decided on a swim. Removing the sand, the lads uncovered 120 eggs the size of ping pong balls with a little hollow in each to facilitate more compact packing. The
The general and the brigadier paid a visit to Gomen but they couldn't stay very long—the 'skeeters' were too fierce. Day and night mosquitoes plagued the men, while at night sentries were compelled to wear gloves and head nets. In February orders were received to strike camp and return to B company's area at Koumac. The stay at Gomen had been an enjoyable one although the boys were glad to be returning to an area where they would have more scope for sport and where they would be closer to their pals in the battalion.
Training areas at the back of the camp had been allotted to companies and a syllabus was adhered to as much as working party commitments would allow. On 9 January, 1943, B company took over from A company the defence of the airfield at Koumac. Like-wise the platoon defending the radar at Pam was relieved. The road to Pam passes through some of the most heavily mosquito' infested country of the island. Pam itself was once a French convict settlement and the ruins of the old copper mine worked by the deportees still stand. Art old settler and his family live close by there now and he took many of the boys on fishing trips in his launch. Parties would arrive back in camp with a sack of giant edible crabs taken off the reef, and sometimes a dugong or sea-cow, a mammal whose meat tastes and looks like pork. Some miles down the coast from Pam, near a place called Balade, Captain Cook landed on 4 September, 1774 to obtain supplies of fresh water and wood, and it was he who gave the island its name because of the resemblance of the coast to the shores of Scotland.
Opposite the camp at Pam was a shack which housed a French' Kanaka, his dark corpulent wife, the majority of their 14 children, half a dozen pigs, several filthy mongrels, and what room was left was claimed by the roosters and fowls. Poultry was usually on the Sunday menu in camp, for the Frenchman was very happy to trade his fowls for flour, salt or bully beef. The natives from the neighbouring village brought pawpaws and bananas to barter for anything the cook might care to give. Roman Catholics from the camp attended the natives' church, where mass was said by the good French father. Any misbehaviour by the native kiddies while singing the Gregorian chant in Latin, was rewarded with a hefty clip over the ear by a Kanaka elder. The lads played an occasional game of
Food rations at Koumac round about this time were a little on the lean side. Vienna sausages and again the awful chili con carne were the staple diet. Deer stalking parties went out by day and also by night in order to augment the rations. One day when the boys were out after deer a Frenchman came into the camp and asked to see the battalion commander.
'Ah m'sieu mon colonel,' he said, 'ze soldats' ave shoot my cattle —two of zem.'
'Oh no, impossible, m'sieu,' said the colonel. It wouldn't be anybody from my battalion. Must be from some other unit.'
The Frenchman was not appeased.
'Come and we'll have a look in the cookhouse,' said the colonel.
There was not a vestige of meat to be found. As the Frenchman made his way out of the camp an army truck passed him going in. On the floor of the vehicle were his two beasts. Brigade head' headquarters took a very dim view of the initiative of the boys who, finding no deer, had bowled over something on the hoof. Once again the 30th Battalion was in disfavour. A battalion concert compered by the padre was given on 23 January and among the invited were the local French civilians and American soldiers from Néhoué and Gomen. The divisional band conducted by their maestro, Lieutenant L. Fox, assisted with items such as 'In the Mood' and 'Ma I like your apple pie'. risqué, and the edict went forth—'no more smut'. A mobile film unit came to Koumac but half way through a 'March of Time' the machine broke down and that was the only picture Koumac ever knew.
Personnel supplied by the battalion established coast watching stations at Koumac and Poume. Reconnaissance platoons under Major Cauty went out for five days, carrying their rations with them.
They moved over particularly arduous country while mosquitoes at night made sleep impossible. It is recorded that one such 'recce' unit when out in the niaoulis came upon a Frenchman's homestead. The officer asked permission for his men to bed down in the barn for the night. The Frenchman wouldn't hear of it—they must sleep in the house. To the officer was given a four-poster bed of Louis Seize period with net, embroidered canopy and frills and furbelows. The men slept on the floor on mattresses without nets. Dive bombing mosquitoes forced the soldiers outside at dawn. But the 'one-pipper' slept on. At last one embittered private could stand it no longer and going over to the officer he shouted through the net—'Come on Abdul, get off your b—throne.'
The island commander had requested the New Zealand Division to supply working parties for the wharves in Nouméa. On 9 February, 200 men and six officers left Koumac for Noumea to relieve a detachment from the 37th Battalion. Work consisted of unloading or loading ships and barges, operating winches and stacking goods in storehouses. The unit had been allocated the five o'clock to mid' night shift and Staff-Sergeant Upton brought down a hot meal from the camp at nine o'clock. Stores unloaded were of every conceivable kind—bombs, aeroplane parts and landing field mats, rations, clothing and general equipment, which included beer. Of them all the closest supervision was given to beer. A case was 'accidentally' dropped overboard from a barge one night and
On their off-duty nights the troops attended the pictures at an American camp near the Magenta airfield. Here, in a natural amphi-theatre upwards of 2000 men gathered to see some of the latest film releases from Hollywood and to hear the island's regimental swing bands. The glowing ends of hundreds of cigarettes punctuated the darkness. Here and there the smoke from fires of rags and papers, lit to drive mosquitoes away, drifted among the servicemen. Some soldiers brought flit guns to use at intervals throughout the performance. It needed only one pair of chorus girl legs on the screen to create bedlam in the audience. Pathetic cries of 'Take me home' could be distinguished from other inarticulate groans.
Nouméa, the capital city of New Caledonia had a peace-time population of 11,000. Its populace consists of a polyglot mixture of French, Javanese, Tonkinese, Kanakas and people of indefinable caste whose skins varied from café au lait to 'off' black. During the day time the residents were in the minority to American soldiers, and marines, New Zealanders and Free French white and native troops. It was pleasant to sit in the town square under the shade of the flowering flamboyant trees and watch the activities of barefooted Javanese women in their multi-coloured sarongs. Perhaps the charming French mademoiselles are quitting their shops and offices for lunch. An American sailor adds an incongruous note as he promenades through the park with a Japanese sunshade over his shoulder. Javanese boys of no more than four years smoke cigarettes given them by servicemen, with all the aplomb of their elders. French
'No,' said his very dry pal.
'I'd go home.'
If the beer ran out there was nothing else to do but to patronise the milk bars, cafes or the American Red Cross Centre. For something with a kick in it there were French dives and 'honkey-tonks' which sold synthetic or low grade spirits. Those who came to know 'Butterfly' brandy or '
Butch tells the story of a certain sergeant at Koumac who had a fear of the poisonous spider commonly called the 'Black Widow'. On his nightly visits to the 'five-holer' sarge was wont to light a match and by a process of rigid inspection and elimination reassure himself that he wasn't putting a vulnerable part of his anatomy in range of the 'widow'! However, prior to one of his nightly ventures, the 'ole had been treated by the sanitation squad with high octane petrol. That night there were still lots of inflammable fumes, it seems. Our sarge lit his match, lifted the lid, and you can guess the rest. Next day sarge was walking round camp with singed hair and eyebrows.
In a letter to his mother a soldier describes some of the places and people that men of the 30th Battalion came to know so well. 'All is well here in our home in the hills. The days pass pleasantly enough in training, roadmaking or doing camp fatigues. We have been on some short route marches lately. We went to a little mining village called Chagrin the other day. Nearby is mined chrome which is used as a hardening agent for steel and it is especially valuable in war time for armour plating in warships and tanks. On one side of a grubby stream reside the French people. It was refreshing just to see people living normal suburban lives, to catch a glimpse through open doorways of easy chairs and carpets, to see starched linen airing, and kiddies playing in the garden. Somewhere a tinkly piano is being played. Memory tugs at your heart strings and you think of those country dances at home on Saturday nights and the girls you knew. On the other side of the river lie those people who are several steps down in the social strata—the Tonkinese and the Javanese. The Tonkinese are indentured labourers from Indo-China. Their women folk wear half-mast black sateen trousers and bolero-like coats with wooden mules on their feet. Their teeth are Persévéres et la vie sera belle (Persevere and life will be beautiful). He grows his own coffee, has his own cattle, makes his own wine. He is an escapist who has apparently succeeded in his mode of living. His daughter showed me some fur covered bats wings which she uses to make purses and bags.
'Some of these lonely people like little Lorraine are pathetically eager to have someone to talk to. Lorraine lives with her mother and brother in a thatched mud-walled cottage. She showed me photos of relatives in France, of French soldiers of the last war, of Australians of this war who were camped close by. Would I like some oranges and freshly ground coffee—yes? She hurries away to get them for me. Fanny, a Javanese woman, is a well-known character to the boys. Her spouse, a Japanese, is interned now. Nevertheless she is quite happy to cook eggs and an occasional chicken for the lads, The officer or NCO who happens to be in charge of a small bure. Our closing hymn was:
On 2.7 March the road-house at Taom River, erected as a recreational centre for men of the 14th Brigade, was opened. It was necessary to have two members of the battalion to serve on the management committee of the road house. There was no dearth of candidates offering and here they are with their electioneering campaign catch-cries:
The Styx was the name given to the exercise by brigade units which took place in the vicinity of Pouembout township at the end of April. It was on this manoeuvre that the jungle hammocks made their debut and proved their worth. In a letter home here is how one infantryman described his experience:— 'Our task demanded that we spend one night on a river bank prior to crossing in assault
The American tinned rations inspired this one:—
Desiring to reciprocate the hospitality shown them by the New Zealanders, the French residents arranged two dinner dances, one for the men and one for the officers, in the local schoolroom. At the latter function the red and white wine gave everyone a very happy feeling. Lieutenant Mick Randall helped the party along with an impromptu tap dance, while Major Keenan volunteered an unrehearsed song and dance act to the accompaniment of Sergeant Vic Hughes on his piano-accordion. One officer said to one comely young French matron—'That little girl in the white frock dances very nicely doesn't she?' 'Huh, she 'as my shoes on, too,' she replied. Pictures were screened at the road house at Taom River several nights each week, but only the keenest film fan undertook the 80-'mile trip in an open truck over rough roads. The nights were cold now—cold enough to sleep without a mosquito net. An extra blanket was issued even though most of the tents had niaouli bark walls which helped to keep out the chill night air. Cattle, some with gongs, grazed round the tents at night and occasionally tripped over tent ropes.
Although the battalion was at Koumac for eight months, the time for most members was broken up by short stays in other parts of the island, such as at Pam, Poume or Nouméa, and by manoeuvres. On 9 June the battalion left at first light on a 40-mile march to the Taom River area to take part in a brigade ceremonial parade. In one village teacher allowed the kiddies out of school to see the soldiers go by, although more interest was shown in teacher herself by the boys than in her neat little scholars. Kaala-Gomen, at the 20-mile peg, was reached by the end of the first day and the cooks—God bless 'em —had a cup of hot tea waiting. No ladies of a suburban bridge party afternoon have ever relished a cup of tea more than footsore, perspiration-soaked soldiers after a 20-mile march in a subtropical climate. Next day it rained and everyone was drenched from head to foot. The divisional band helped flagging spirits with the 'March of the Heralds' and 'Macnamara's Band'. Journey's end was reached in late afternoon and bivouac was made on the banks of the Taom. The 37th Battalion concert party provided an excellent evening's entertainment. The show was preceded by a doleful dirge from the
The brigadier smiled and lit another cigar. The ceremonial parade on Sunday was preceded by a combined church service for all units. The parade itself was inspected by the brigade commander, Brigadier Potter, who took, the salute as later the units marched past in phalanx. Next day the battalion set off on its return journey singing songs from the picture 'Yankee Doodle Dandy' which had been screened the previous evening. On the second day Lieutenant-Colonel Macnamara took the salute at Koumac as the troops went by. The boys got scent of the camp and the last few miles must have been done in record time.
Up to the present the 30th had been a mixed infantry battalion but it had been decided by the divisional commander to take the medium machine guns from the units and form a company of them attached to brigade. To implement these changes one platoon of D company marched out to the 37th Battalion. Further reorganisation within the battalion took place to bring D company up to strength.
Poume is on the west coast near the northern-most part of New Caledonia and a more delightful spot would be difficult to find. A and C companies marched 34 dreary and monotonous miles to spend a day there. Poume had also once been a penal settlement where convicts worked the mines. Evidence that early settlers at Poume were English and Scottish is shown by the fact that several of the local residents have English names. One old lady bordering on 80 years of age, referring to the two companies of soldiers, told Major Barker that in all her life never had she seen so many people together at the one time. Food rationing had not made life any easier for these hardy folk and both the French and the natives were grateful for gifts of bully beef. 'What's your name?' said the cook to one old grizzled native. 'Me Charlie,' he said and undoing his cast-off army shirt displayed a torso with 'Tali' tattooed diagonally across it. One old quarter'Caste lady who must have been at least 70 was a well-seated figure on her horse. She was wearing spurs too!
On being asked by a soldier how her husband was faring, a Frenchwoman burst into a torrent of words. Interpolated with numerous 'la-la's' and accompanied by despairing gestures she told her sad story. Apparently her husband had gone out shooting, taking with him his five-year-old son. The little lad espied a deer and cried— 'Look father.' Father brought his rifle to his shoulder, fired and missed. A few yards away, to their surprise, up popped the local gendarme who accused the old man of firing at him. Argument followed and father was arrested. A judge arrived later to try the case. The little lad went into the witness box and saved the day for his dad. 'But,' said the judge, 'm'sieu must be deprived of his rifle,'and madam with a toss of her head gave further vent to her feelings.
Asked to nominate, in his opinion, the greatest contributing factor to high morale, a soldier unhesitatingly responded—'a good feed'. Others might reply 'letters from home', 'beer' or 'football'! Whatever is one's opinion on this question, sport and especially football, played an important part in the lives of the men at Koumac in lessening the boredom of months of garrison life. Almost every afternoon, on the ground near the road which led to the Koumac chrome wharf, inter-platoon games were played. Javanese workmen occasionally stopped to watch the players running round in the subtropical heat, and would stand there agape with an expression on their faces which seemed to say—'these mad New Zealanders!' Men who hadn't played football for years, some who had never played, some young, some almost 40, urged on by their companions, turned out to don a jersey for their platoons. That some platoons with a strength of only a few over 20 could field a rugby side instances the enthusiasm and good-natured rivalry which prevailed. Almost none the less enjoyable than the games themselves were the post-mortems which were held afterwards in the tents over a bottle of nut brown ale. Inter-company games were played on Saturday afternoons when an excellent standard of football was displayed.
A side was selected by Lieutenant N. Macdonald to represent the the battalion in the 14th Brigade section of the Barrowclough Cup series, a trophy given by the general for competition among all units of the division. The first game played by the battalion team, following a training period at Poume seaside, was against the 37th Battalion at Taom. It was contested on a very sticky ground, and the mud gave an added sole to the jungle boots of the players, considerably slowing down the backs. The game was drawn, three all. A match played
Wherever there are footballs kicked round you always find that loyal and enthusiastic coterie of players who prefer the round ball to the oval. Conditions were ideally suited to playing soccer, and company and inter-unit games were contested. In a match versus the 37th Battalion the 30th lost by two goals to one, but won against a Free French team by one goal to nil. In one match the goalkeeper of the 30th Battalion, who hailed from Scotland, scored the only goal of the game—unfortunately against his own side. In a melée round the goalposts, Sandy allowed the ball to glance off his foot and roll into the net. Among those included in teams representing the battalion were:— R. G. Pink, J.
New Caledonia has not the extremes in seasons that we in New Zealand know, and both cricket and football were played at the same time. A pitch was cleared up at the Koumac airfield and matting was put down over the rough scoria-like surface. Despite the heat and mosquitoes, enjoyable intercompany games were played and B company proved to have the most talent. As other units became established to the south a competition was inaugurated within the 14th Brigade, and though the 30th Battalion had promising material, difficulty was experienced in getting all the players together at the one time. A match played against the 22nd Field Ambulance is worthy of mention when the battalion batted first and made 112. The hospital boys replied with a good start of one for 67, two for 85, and three for 104. Jack Hall in an inspired bowling spell then
In the 14th Brigade boxing championships
Several swimming carnivals were held at the Taom River and among those outstanding swimmers who represented the battalion in the inter-unit events were K. J. Stone,
Although it had been originally intended to relieve the company on duty near the Koumac airfield each month, this plan was not adhered to and B company, later joined by the carriers platoon from Gomen, remained separated from the Battalion for almost seven months. During this time the boys came to know many of the local residents and for the hand of one certain little mademoiselle there was great rivalry. One or two of the lads developed a sudden desire to learn the French language and another belle of the village was pleased to act as their tutor. To B company goes the credit for the
To remind you how your lost or perhaps won your folding money, here are the results of two of the meetings of the club. The winners for the opening meeting were:
B Company Hack Scurry:
Kid Stakes: Captain Dalton's 'Fat Boy,' 1; Captain Suckling's 'The Doc,' 2.
Carriers Canter Classic: Lieutenant Macdonald's 'Big Splash,' 1; Captain F. Gunn's 'Friar Tuck,' 2.
Recovery Handicap for Gentlemen Riders: 'Kindergarten,' ridden by Lieutenant 'Spud' Murphy, 1; 'Beau Leon,' ridden by Lieutenant 'Puncher' Allen, 2.
First and second past the post at the Grand Prix meet were:—
Victory Handicap: Lieutenant-Colonel Macnamara's 'Old Mac,' 1, Major Keenan's 'Hurricane Harry,' 2.
Trial Stakes: Captain Suckling's 'The Doc,' 1; Padre Nairn's 'The Lost Chord,' 2.
Flying Handicap: Captain Irvine's 'Bad Show,' 1; Private C. Fisken's 'Clerk of the Course,' 2.
Inspired by the success of B company's entry into the racing world, a grandiose club was formed at Taom under brigade direction. At the first meeting of the Northern Racing Club, attended by thousands of soldiers and civilians, 16,000 dollars were invested on the tote. Horses, many of them well-bred, were lent by the Ouaco meat factory and some of their names which may strike a chord of memory were Royal Flush, Box Girder, Confident, The Lancet and Fearless.
Signs were not wanting now of a move by the battalion off the island to a combat gone further north. To give credence to this belief one had to ignore the fact that D company was working on the roads in the brigade area, while the labour which had been used in constructing the Taom River racecourse pointed to our remaining on the island for the duration. That a move was imminent was confirmed by the fact that in June the colonel, accompanied by Lieutenants Kermode and Rennie, went to Noumea to observe the 37th Battalion practise amphibious operations on board the USS John Penn. On their return lectures were given and a ship's loading net was erected in the camp area. Practise on climbing the net with full equipment was carried out by the battalion. 'You may make a start now,' said Colonel Macnamara, 'getting rid of your Jehovahs witnesses and hair oil bottles,' or in other words throw out all your rubbish.
Some of the officers had arranged with natives to build for them cosey little bures for living quarters. Captain Suckling chose the hillside or what he called 'the upper air,' as the site for his conical roofed hut. Here, surrounded by medical tomes, the doctor was able to practise playing reveille on his conch shell. Captain Charlie Werry preferred for his abode a chapel-like design complete with front porch. The battalion quartermaster had an interest in the bamboo-railed goods yard. To quote the Koumac Kronicle—'The quartermaster's staff are only too pleased to show you round the new ration store. It is the last word in French colonial architecture. Their latest venture is in the formation of a railway company with
An officer's tent went up in flames round about this time. While he was disconsolately raking among the ruins two fellow subalterns arrived on the scene, and with hawk-like eyes espied two bottles of beer which had survived the blaze. Without a word of sympathy to the unfortunate owner one said—'Well let's knock the top off these and drink to the occasion.' Another officer had previously lost his tent by fire. It was very strongly rumoured by the boys at the time that one enthusiastic fireman seized a can and threw the contents on the fire. Unfortunately, however, the can contained petrol.
Days were spent doing compass traverses across country, mapping work, and route marches to the chrome wharf at Koumac. One old Frenchman one often passed on the road apparently didn't possess a pocket watch. He used to hang an alarm clock on a branch of the tree near where he was working. As always, among native people, the womenfolk one met on the roads carried extremely heavy loads, while father strolled along in front smoking a stubby pipe and carrying a machete. Web equipment and mosquito nets were sprayed green. Reinforcements from base at Bourail who had latterly been with the Scots and Ruahine Battalions joined the 30th to bring the unit up to full strength. On 22 July American troops arrived to take over the defence of the Koumac airfield. The Kiwi concert party gave a show in the transport park on 26 July called 'Over to You' to which the local French civilians were invited. During the first few days of August an opportunity was given to all members of the battalion to enjoy a rest period by the sea at Poume. Captain Tony Gibbs, of the dental corps, took his drill and vulcaniser and examined molars in his tent near the water. Yachting and launch trips for the men were arranged with local owners. Some form of religious festival was being held in the native village, and Kanakas from neighbouring islands were arriving, bringing with them their food for the stay. Some of the boys wandered along to the native compound in the evening and persuaded the kiddies to sing, rewarding them with sticks of chewing gum. Crown and anchor boards made their appearance on the beach at night. 'I pay double on the crown—who'll cover the diamond?'; you could hear the banker cry
'You are leaving us soon,' said one Frenchman who had come to know several men of the battalion.
'Yes, m'sieu.'
'Ah,' he replied sadly, 'partir—c'est mourir un peu.' (To go away is to die a little).
It was goodbye to Koumac on 16 August. Somehow one was unmoved by the departure for there were 'no ties that bind' and few could have regrent. Rather did it relieve that pent-up feeling of frustration—a feeling few could have escaped having lived eight months in those back woods. One took a last look round. There was the old platoon parade ground, the tree to which one hung one's mirror to shave in the morning. George had left his underpants behind, too. You lit a Lucky Strike, climbed aboard the truck and shouted out to Shorty Gyde—'Let 'er roll, Short, me boy.' A halt was made by the convoy at Népoui valley for the evening meal. Many will still remember that bitterly cold night journey which ended at the Dumbéa River at dawn. After breakfast the convoy pulled out for the nickel docks in Nouméa. Here the troops were taken in assault boats to the USS President Adams— a ship known to thousands of combat troops in the South-west Pacific. A practice landing was made on the following day when troops went down the nets with battle equipment and were taken in assault craft to a beach in Nouméa Harbour. On the afternoon of 18 August the convoy carrying troops of the 14th Brigade and comprising USS President Adams (30th Battalion), USS President Hayes (35th Battalion), USS President Jackson (37th Battalion) and three escorting destroyers steamed out of Nouméa Harbour.
The President Adams dropped anchor on 20 August in the harbour of Vila, a town on the island of Efate which is in the New Hebrides group. This group of islands is governed jointly by the French and the British. The ship rode at anchor for four days in the harbour and during this time three practice landings were made on Mélé beach, the troops on the final one remaining ashore overnight. Stores and ammunition were brought ashore to give the ship's and beach unloading parties experience in this work. The convoy left Vila on 25 August. As with all transports, space in the sleeping quarters was very limited and smoking was prohibited in and round the bunks. Crown and anchor boards made their appearance in the holds at night where the dim red light was added to by bits of burning candle. Some of the troops were quartered on deck, which was very much better than being below. The food was good, with quantities of iced pineapple juice to boot. Battalion cooks did duty in the galleys and here the heat was almost unbearable. Ice cream could be bought in the ship's canteen and during the afternoon pictures were screened. Fatigue details were supplied from troop personnel and one became familiar with American naval parlance as orders came over the ship's speaker system—'Sweepers man your brooms, sweep down clean fore and aft,' or 'The smoking lamp is out on all weather decks.' A concert was given by the Adams's crew and the New Zealanders, aft of the smokestack, while the ship was at sea. It was a pleasant trip and the ship was a happy one. Adams, was kind enough to say he was always very happy to transport New Zealanders. On 27 August the Adams dropped anchor off Point Cruz, Guadalcanal.
There was work for everybody in the battalion to do that day-unloading the ship and the barges at the beach Carriers did good work in getting stores off the beach away from the incoming tide. By late afternoon the Adams was unloaded and a picket was left on the beach to guard the stores. The boys slept under mosquito nets on the ground that night—on ground which had cost the American forces dear to take, for here doomed Japanese had fought to a bloody finish with their backs to the sea. All Japanese land resistance had long since ceased on Guadalcanal by this time. The Munda, New Georgia campaign, which in its early stages had caused the American commanders many anxious moments, was now also successfully completed. American forces had already landed on
It was known, of course, that in coming to Guadalcanal the troops would be entering a malarial zone. The battalion medical officer in New Caledonia had given an indication of the anti-malarial precautions which would be taken. A medical officer had visited New Guinea to observe methods used to combat malaria among Australian troops which in the early stages of the war had taken heavy toll among the jungle fighters. That these methods were effective is shown by the very low incidence of malaria in the Third Division during its 10 months in the Solomons. A ruling had been made that no shorts were to be brought north from New Caledonia, and after six o'clock at night long pants, shirts and gaiters were worn. Atebrin tablets, which took the place of quinine, were taken daily except Sundays, under supervision. Some men had misgivings about taking atebrin because of the strong rumour among our own and American troops that prolonged treatment induced sterility. It has been stated that this erroneous belief was fostered by German agents in the United States not only among troops but also among civilians.
Next day tents were erected and a start was made by the men digging slit trenches. Company quartermasters dashed round trying to trace a lost crate of dixies, a tent or a box of hurricane lamps. It was the practice of the quartermasters to cache tea, baking powder or fruit cocktail in the most unlikely looking cases. Thus a 40-gallon petrol drum with 'Drinking water only' labelled on the outside might be used for carrying machetes, toilet paper, and the cooks aprons, while down at the bottom would be a couple of dozen tins of apricots. As fate would have it, it was very often these crates which would go
'And so I sez to 'im, I sez, "Oo do you think you are—you're only a lousy lance jack anyhow."'
'G'wan and what did he say Smithy?'
'He sea to me, "I'll knock your block off," and I sez, "Garn you couldn't knock the skin off a rice pud—"'
On 30 August the companies moved to their various camp sites which were on a series of ridges on Skyline Trail. Soon after this Colonel Macnamara, who had been ill, was invalided back to base. He had been commander of the unit for almost a year and just as he was loath to go, so was the battalion sorry to lose him. Major Keenan took over the command until 11 September, when the new commanding officer,
Working parties reported to Lunga Point daily and were employed on wharf work, sorting, stacking and dumping ammunition, moving cement and working in warehouses. Parties were also taken to Carney Field, the heavy bomber airstrip, to handle petrol drums. Coming home, a stop was made at the Lunga River to enable men to wash. Water was a problem back in camp, for it all had to be transported to company areas from a chlorinating point. Though the Matanikau River was near company areas, the fact that crocodiles were reported to be in it and that there were probably corpses polluting the river made it an unsatisfactory bathing place. On those days when the men were not required for camp or working party duties, platoons trekked over the ridges of the hinterland. Everywhere there was some mute evidence of the battles which had been fought—here empty ration tins, mess gear, ammunition, combat
Many of the natives fled into the hills when the Japs invaded Guadalcanal but even so some were caught and compelled to work on the Henderson airfield. Now the natives were moving back to make new homes in their old surroundings. Most of the natives are
It was Tojo's practice to send bombers to Guadalcanal each month when the moon was full. True, because of his decreased air power in this theatre, his raids were now only token ones. Radar picked up the incoming planes and gave warning, and divisional headquarters flashed its red danger signal from the ridge. On 13, 14 and 15 September, 'Washing-machine Charlie' was overhead and dropped bombs near the Henderson and Carney airfields. The men gave the name 'Washing-machine Charlie' to Jap planes because of their high pitched engine drone and peculiar synchronisation. 'There's blood on the moon,' said Mick. 'Charlie will be over.' He came and troops on Guadalcanal saw one of the most spectacular sights of their soldiering days. One can hear the far away drone of his engine. Searchlights poke their fingers into the sky, find him and hold him. The Jap plane glints silver in the junction of the beams. Flak bursts all round. Lockheed Lightning night-fighter is on the scent. You see his tracer bullets leave the plane like a dotted red ink line on a black background. A faint red glow appears in the Jap plane, increases and a fiery red blob flutters to earth. Thousands of soldiers yell themselves hoarse from their slit trenches. The beams pick up another plane and regardless of flak the night-fighter plane goes in. You can see his tracers stop as they find their target. The Jap rear
What leisure time the men did have on Guadalcanal they used in hitch hiking to places of interest—to the beached Jap transport ships down on the coast, to the Henderson and Carney airfields or to see mates in the RNZAF Kittyhawk squadrons. Near Lunga Point is the cemetery, with its row upon row of white crosses which mark the resting place of the American servicemen who died in the battle for Guadalcanal. Some of the men preferred to hike over the hills looking for Jap souvenirs, or to climb up to the Gifu strongpoint to see the honeycomb of Jap positions which were only overrun after days of bitter fighting. Indiscriminate firing went on round the ridges all day, and C company had to extinguish a couple of grass fires which had been started by bullets and which threatened its tents. 'Teapot Corner,' managed by
Guadalcanal proved to be a starting point only in the battalion's journeyings. On 13 September a battalion advanced party under Major Barker, left Guadalcanal for
Voting day in the battalion for the New Zealand parliamentary elections was 17 September. Six days later the unit was packed up and ready to be off on the further move north to Stringham, Talbot, Kilty, Noa, Dickerson, Crosby and
Japanese land resistance had not ceased on
Soon after dawn on 25 September the destroyers passed Gizo Island and at 6.30 a.m. assault boats were lowered to the water. The troops landed at Mumia beach, where members of the advanced party were waiting. Very soon an LST nosed its way into the beach. While men were stacking rations and ammunition, a Jap fighter plane made a cheeky mast-high run over the ship. Further down the coast could be heard the sound of bombing and it was learned later that an LST had been hit and that there had been casualties among the crew. The battalion moved into the area and tents vacated by the 37th Battalion. No lights were allowed at night and there was nothing to do but sit on one's cot in the dark, smoke, 'chew the fat' and listen to the weird jungle noises. 'I don't like this jungle,' Roy would say. 'I like to be where you can hear the trams going by.' Tied vines were used as guide ropes to the tents and in order to visit the 'two-holer' one needed to go on a
The 30th Battalion had been allotted a combat task, and this was to be the taking of Gizo Island from the Japs. Nothing could be done in the meantime, however, for the unit was in reserve should it be needed for the fighting which was going on in the north of the island. Contact had been made by the 35th and 37th Battalions with the Japs, some of whom had been killed, while casualties had been suffered by our own troops. On 1 October Jap planes came over and scored a direct hit on an LST unloading at a beach further up the coast. A New Zealand gun detachment of 15 men manning Bofors anti-aircraft guns on the ship's deck was completely wiped out. A stone plinth erected in memory of these brave Kiwis stands near the beach today. Many Americans were also killed on this ship. Several Jap fighter planes were shot down in the sea that afternoon and for those who saw the Zeros burst into flames, disintegrate, and fall into the sea it was a thrilling sight. Each day patrols from the different companies made a circuit of the battalion area. One day one section was ordered to move on a full day patrol up the Mumia River. Lofty went to the quartermaster for his rations, and was handed some dried fruit, a tin of milk, tea, sugar, and a small bag of rice.
'Who's all this for?' said Lofty.
'For you,' replied Uppy the quarterbloke.
'Say,' said Lofty, 'what the hell are we supposed to do—fight the Jap or feed 'im.'
In view of the determined attacks by Jap dive bombers on the LSTs, battalion working parties were a little 'jittery' when unloading in the holds of the ships. At Barakoma beach one morning when the men were working inside the LST, an officer who had received word of an air raid alarm over the phone went to the entrance of the ship and cried—'Condition red—air raid—condition red.' He was nearly killed in the rush as men spewed out of the hold and broke even time for the hundred yards as they sprinted for the
From information received by the colonel from friendly natives who made the five-mile trip to Gizo by canoe, it was thought that in ail probability the Japs had left Gizo. The natives reported that the usual enemy bivouac areas were not now occupied and it was therefore decided to send a strong reconnaissance party to the island. A couple of days were spent in preparation for the trip—studying maps and intelligence summaries, the issue of rations and checking up on equipment. The task of the party was to be purely reconnaissance, and it was to avoid any resistance in strength by the enemy. The detachment which assembled on Mumia beach on 10 October comprised
Two assault boats were used and they were steered through the coral shoals near Gizo by aid of aerial photographic maps. Plans had been made for natives on Gizo to rendeavous in their canoe with the assault boats when they neared the island, and give the latest information about the Japs. A canoe was seen to put off from the shore and it came alongside the barge. In it were six natives and a white man—an American coast-watcher. It was confirmed from this party that the japs had left their usual areas. The assault boats Gizo anchorage. All round the foreshore were the now abandoned defensive positions which the Japs had constructed to ward off an attack. At the anchorage were the homes of officials, planters and traders, for Gizo had been an adminstrative centre for the British Solomon Islands Protectorate. The Japs had occupied these houses which showed signs of the strafing and bombing they had received from allied planes over the past few months. Official correspondence of the administration littered the area. Concrete floors had been burrowed under to serve as air raid shelters —even a billiards table had rubble heaped upon it to give protection. Crayon drawings by Jap soldiers had been left on the walls, one with the title, 'A soldier's dream of home.' Left untouched by the Nips near one of the ransacked offices was a stone plinth erected to the memory of:
The sunlight filtered through the trees to form a pattern on the path. Here a kiddie's tricycle; there a seagrass chair and flower beds a tangled mass of weeds which reminded one that once the anchor age had known happy days. Because of the encircling reefs there was not a great number of places on the coast where the boats could be beached. A landing was made at Repo, a promontory, where it was found the Japs had fortified positions. The natives went in their canoe to get water from a neighbouring river and came back all smiles with a Jap prisoner. He had swum ashore some days before, he later told an interpreter, after having had his barge, in which he was evacuating soldiers from Kolambangara, sunk in a naval action at night. Said the incorrigible Charlie, stropping his jungle knife on the palm of his hand, 'Sir, I promised my girl I'd send her a couple of pickled ears—could I er—er … 'The Jap could not speak English (except for 'watta') but he entertained the boys by drawing maps of New Zealand and putting the main ports. He wasn't quite sure what was going to happen to him and was full of obsequious bows when given cigarettes or food and made frequent display of his excellent gold-edged teeth. It was a wonder the natives didn't kill
Next day A company platoon went on an all-day reconnaissance from Gizo anchorage of the middle portion of the island. C company boys went to Zipozipolo and came upon the main Jap bivouac area. The whole hillside was a series of reinforced stronghold positions and air raid shelters, while interspersed were primitive sleeping quarters made from betel nut palm trunks. Cooking was done in huts with a small escape hole for the smoke which would have to be avoided as much as possible because of being spotted by American planes. Very little gear was left behind, but there still pervaded a sickly sweet smell of 'fu-fu' powder in the living quarters. That was the name the men gave to the peculiar talc powder that the Japs apparently used on themselves. Corporal Albert Cockle was the envy of souvenir hunters when he found an American carbine under a Japanese officer's bed. All that the Japs had left were a few bags of salt, unpolished rice, medical comforts, two-handed saws and empty sake bottles. On 12, October the party, except for C company platoon, went by barge to Saegaragi. Thirteen platoon moved from the Nonsama River overland to Saegaragi, led by two native guides, old 'Captain Betty' and youthful Daniel. In the mouth of the Nonsama River was a Jap barge from which one of the lads souvenired the compass. The section came upon another Jap bivouac area and, poking round, found pillaged goods, taken probably from the private homes on the island. There were snapshots, too, that the Nipponese had left, of a wife in her kimono, of the kiddies at the seaside, of family groups, and scenes at the fair with bunting, ferris wheels and all the fun of the roundabout. Which reminded one that apparently in their complex personalities some form of love does leaven their bestial traits. The platoon came upon cunningly concealed linked weapon posts and one had to admire their industry and the thoroughness of their work. Old 'Captain Betty' was like a hen with chickens, darting now to the right, now to the left at any movement or noise in the jungle. But always with that innate sense of direction he came back on to the correct bearing.
From Saegaragi A company men had moved further down the coast looking for any signs that might indicate that the Japs had left
Lights were permitted now, which helped to combat the deadly monotony of the nights. Almost every tent had its coterie of auction bridge players.
'Blimey Count, why didn't you play your king—third player plays high—I've told you that."
'Yeah an' how was I to know you were sittin' on the ace!'
'Hey Pongo—it's your turn to get the tea from the YMCA tonight.'
'Hell and I've just scraped the mud off my boots—you go Fred.'
'Can't—writing a letter.
'The siren—quick douse the lights.'
'Get any mail t'day Count?'
'Yep.'
'How's Effie?'
'She's all right—says we'll be comin' home soon.'
'Oh yeah' (chorus).
'She wants to know about these atebrin tables—says she's heard some tales about 'em.'
'All clear—light the light.'
'What's on tomorrow?'
'Unloading petrol.'
'Wish it was rations-we've finished the peaches.'
'These lousey mossies.'
'Pass.'
'Pass.'
'One no-trump.'
'One spade.'
'No Count, you've gotta go two.'
If you didn't play cards you wrote letters or read tattered digests or newspapers three and four months old. But generally, shall we say, each tent in its leisure hours became a debating group. Soldiers call it 'magging', 'nattering', 'chewing the fat', 'chewing the rag' or 'shootin' the breeze'. And the topics—North Island versus the South Island, ensilage versus hay, girls, mail, officers in general and in particular, girls, politics, beer, the wife and the kiddies, beer, Americans, civvy jobs, and Whenna We Goin' Home. These are 'Deejay's' gleanings from round the tent poles.
'Wait till I meet him in civvy life.'
'I'll bet you these pills affect you in after life.'
'My old man, who went right through the last war, told me …
'I could have got boarded out in Fiji if I'd gone the right way about it.'
'I don't reckon I'm half at fit as I was in New Zealand.'
'I found it hard to live on army pay after I'd been getting twenty quid a week in civvy life.'
'Who the hell gave him a stripe at any rate.'
If you didn't play cards, write, read or 'mag' you devoted your time to resting—the most popular pastime in the Third Division, irrespective of rank. Commonly called 'cot bashing', 'Maori PT' (physical training), 'ceiling inspection' or 'spinal exercise'—all sooner or later succumbed to its wiles.
In ones and twos, Japanese light-bombers and reconnaissance planes came over almost nightly and for the bombers their objective was the airstrip at Barakoma. Their aim was usually wide of the mark. Reactions to bombing were varied. There were those (a) who sat on the cot, tin hat in hand, waiting for the siren (b) those who made for the slit trench when the siren moaned (c) those who got in their shelters when the planes were overhead (d) those who jumped into anybody's shelter, nearly killing the occupants, when the bombs fell and (e) those who slept on. One very nervous soldier was dubbed 'the man with the radar ears'. He could hear Jap planes, or said he could, when no one else could. The story is told of Dave, an infanteer, who during an air raid was racing for his fox-hole. Unfortunately he had left his braces trailing and his mate Tom, fol' lowing hard on his heels, stepped on them. Dave was thrown on the flat of his back with a resounding smack. 'Go for your life, Tom,' he cried, 'they've got me.' Fighting had ceased now in the
It was necessary now to have troops stationed on the south western portion of the coast. B company had already been moved to Marivari where the men were more readily available for working parties. D company (Major Ronaldson) and C company (Captain Olsen) on 24 October, left Mumia for Sapato and Malasova respectively. No one was sorry to leave the dark, dank, jungle with its mud underfoot and where only shafts of sunlight were able to get through. A company set about clearing its camp area near the Mumia River, while battalion headquarters and headquarters company did the same further up the road. D and C companies trekked along the jungle trail from Barakoma to Varisi and then up the coast to their camp sites. Sapato had been a native village but with the coming of the Japs the inhabitants had fled to the hills, where their women folk would be safe from the rapacious enemy. Their vegetable gardens and fruit were pillaged by the invaders and the natives were forced to live off the natural vegetation of the jungle. Probably all natives had suffered attacks of malaria and they were also carriers of hookworm. This made their presence in and around military camps a source of infection for soldiers. Not that the men concerned themselves about this and there was always candy for the kiddies and a cigarette for the 'bulas'—a term from Fiji days that the boys still used when referring to the natives. 'Make yourselves comfortable—you'll be there for two or three months'—had been the in' junction to D and C companies. At Sapato there was work to do in cleaning up the area which the Japs had left in a filthy condition. By the time it was finished Sapato was a model camp, with neatly laid out tents, fresh water well and a mess hall. Captain Nixon and his aide, Sergeant Duffy, set up a small hospital for the usual dysentry, suspected malaria and skin disease cases. Natives came for treatment for everything from yaws to ingrowing toenails. The doctor also had an obstetrical case 'with complications'—a native woman in a nearby
Native canoes were patched up and permission was given by a planter's wife to bring an abandoned launch from Baga Island. Mechanics from the company went to work on it and in spite of a paucity of tools and parts were able to make it go. Rations, including bread, and the mail were brought round from Marivari by barge. Later Colonel Cornwall had the Jap barges in the Nonsama River at Gizo towed to
C company made its home at the mouth of the Malasova River. A Dutch trader had lived here before the coming of the Japs. One of his derelict houses was converted into a mess room while chefs
On 30 October the 8th Brigade of the Third Division landed on Treasury Islands, to the north of
In early November D company and later C company spent three days on Baga Island doing jungle training. C company sent a platoon to the island to precede the main body. When the rest of the company in its barges passed through the heads of the bay, this platoon opened fire with mortars and machine guns well in front of them. The American coxswain of one of the barges had not been informed of the plan and he had to be forcibly restrained from opening fire on what he though were Japs resisting the landing. Flies, crabs, lizards, iguanas, mosquitoes and rats didn't endear Baga Island to the men. In the evenings the inevitable packs of cards made their appearance. There were few five hundred fans left now, for most of them had been converted to bridge. One lovelorn lad who had been carrying on an intensive correspondence with his girl friend in New Zealand was heard one night in one of those bedtime confidences to ask in all seriousness—'Say Pancho—do you know anything about getting married by "foxy".' On 19 November the Governor' General of New Zealand,
While C and D companies led the so-called, idyllic life of the south sea islands beloved by Hollywood producers (but certainly not by the 30th Battalion) A, B and headquarters companies were supplying men for never ending working parties. Thousands of drums of petrol were manhandled for use on the airstrip. Although all that it was necessary to take on working parties in the way of utensils was a mug and half a mess tin, strangely enough it needed a valise to carry them, according to the boys. You never knew what you might want to put in it if you were working on the ration dump.
A picture show had been built at Joroveto in the brigade area. You were welcome there according to the notice 'if you have your sleeves rolled down, are wearing gaiters or have your trouser legs tucked into your socks. When films were not screened at brigade the boys hitch-hiked in American trucks to the outdoor cinema at Biloa or the indoor one at Acorn 10. The old planter's house at Gill's plantation had been converted into a roadhouse, where men from all the brigade units foregathered for a cup of tea and to hear the 'dinkum oil' about future movements. At Teapot Corner near battalion headquarters, YM secretary Wardlaw brewed a hundred gallons of tea a day. He had acquired an old Morris van to transport 'a drop of the doin's' to working parties on jobs outside the battalion area. A company had constructed a diving board at Mumia beach while headquarters company did the same on the reef near its area. Native canoes were patched up and some were provided with a sail made from discarded tents.
There had swept through the battalion—indeed through the whole brigade—a craze for fashioning souvenirs from old aircraft metal and perspex. Far into the night one could hear the tap tapping of amateur craftsmen working on miniature planes, jungle knives with coloured perspex handles, ash trays from shell cases, and cats eye bracelets. Banjos were made from cake tins and telephone wire, but Sergeant Vic Hughes made a professional job of his instrument hewn from a solid piece of mahogany. The jungle knives, made very often from jeep springs, were ornate in design and they found ready buyers among the Americans for anything from 20 to 50 dollars. The medical chest supplied the colouring for the handles— mercurochrome and brilliant green. The battalion news-sheet, the Vella Lavella Views, recorded a phone conversation of RSM Dempsey Delaney—'Yes,' he said, 'I'm fairly busy now—I'm afraid I will have to hang up'—with which he smartly returned to his primus and perspex. The pioneers were besieged with chaps anxious to make use of the vice and tools. As it was they themselves were kept busy making, among other things, mahogany boxes for officers. Over at C company
Though perhaps not having the same number of adherents as the trinket makers, the jungle juice brewers felt they were working for a
To make reference to matters purely military, on the first of December, D and C companies, the mortar platoon, the reconnaissance and intelligence sections and battalion headquarters moved by barge to Baga Island for manoeuvres which lasted for three days. Officers from A and B companies were attached as observer-umpires. The official government photographer took action shots of the boys. This film was later screened in New Zealand and showed
The dedication of the New Zealand and United States cemetery at Maravari was held on Sunday, 19 December, 1943. Guards of honour were supplied by the 14th Brigade and by the 58th United States Naval Construction Battalion. The service was conducted by the senior chaplain to the 3rd New Zealand Division, Bishop Gerard and by an American forces padre. In the cemetery are buried those men of the 35th and 37th New Zealand Battalions who lost their lives in the
At the beginning of December a number of officers and men whose fitness for further jungle fighting was doubtful left the battalion. Many had been with their platoons from Momi days and were loath to leave their companions. The battalion was sorry to see them go.
One night in December anti personnel bombs were dropped by Jap bombers in the lines of A company and the mortar platoon.
Almost simultaneously with the sounding of the alarm bombs fell among the tents. A bridge evening was being held in one of the tents at A company at the time, and as the explosions came closer nine frantic men endeavoured to get in to the one fox hole. One lad, who was at the end of the queue, saw that his prospects of getting in were nil and cried out what he thought would be his famous last words—'Good luck you fellows—good luck'. On the same occasion another lad in his excitement tried to blow out his electric torch! It all sounds funny now but how little humour there was in those bombings at the time we all know.
Christmas, 1943, was for many lads their third consecutive Christmas away from home. Christmas Day, 41, had been spent at Momi Bay, Fiji; Christmas, 1942, at Koumac, New Caledonia; and now Christmas, 1943, was to be spent in the Solomon Islands. Here in a letter home a soldier describes Christmastide at Malasova: 'And so another Christmas has come and gone. In the circumstances we had quite an enjoyable few days, and this quiet neck of the woods has never known such hilarity. The whole success of observance of Christmas depended on one thing. This duly arrived in the form of seven bottles of beer per man—five to be issued at Christmas eve and two for the New Year. Friday, Christmas eve, was a holiday and in the afternoon we held a swimming carnival competing for the Malasova Cup, made and engraved by Gunga Dean from two Jap water bottles. I had a go in the cigarette race-swim across the river with a lighted cigarette and arrive with it still burning. Mine was out when I arrived at the other side. Nothing daunted I took part in another novelty race—taking two coconuts across the river. Unfortunately one of the lads in attempting to do overarm with his coconuts dropped one on my napper and for a time I sank from sight. We staged a concert in the evening. Some of the boys decorated the stage with garlands of poinsettias and frangipanni against a coconut frond background—it looked very South Sea islandish. By the time we went on performers and audience alike were full of the Christmas spirit. We forgot our lines, sang out of tune, and our star "girl" did a haka instead of a ballet dance. In one skit one lad was to shoot another in the posterior with his bow 'n arrow. It had been arranged that the recipient would have a board down the seat of his pants. Amid all the confusion he omitted to do this and let out a realistic yell when William Tell twanged his bow. On
The Kiwi concert party were billeted at Mumia and they helped to make A company's Christmas period brighter than it might normally have been. An informal concert was arranged at which Zero gave selections from his songs of the prairies and B. Kirkwood gave his impersonations of Pop-eye. Mac led the boys in community singing on his portable organ, while Henry Burns and his banjo, of 'Hold that tiger' fame, was the star turn with 'Strip tease polka'.
A general mobilisation order had been issued to the whole of the brigade. The 35th Battalion from the north-eastern and the 37th Battalion from the north-western sides of the island returned and made their camps on the north of the Juno River. Rumours were rife as to future movements although the only official information given out was that the 30th Battalion had been assigned a special task which would be carried out in the near future. In the mean-time conferences were held to decide what gear to take and how to carry it, what weapons and how much ammunition. The strength of each platoon was to be 25 which meant that several men in each platoon, much to their disappointment, had to be placed on the LOB (left out of battle) list. Practise in forming perimeters both by day and by night was carried out at the Mumia and Juno beaches. Every man learned his position in the assault boat, his companions on his right and left flanks in the perimeter, the ammunition carried by his section mates and where it was carried; every man learned, too, the number of paces to take in from the bush line, the whereabouts of his platoon commander, and finally once having dug in, not to move one's fox-hole in any circumstances.
There was little one could do now except make certain of one's job by asking questions, relax and await D minus one day. The colonel addressed the men on 25 January and said—'Briefly your task is this-—to disembark from destroyers at midnight into assault boats, land on a certain island which the Japs are using as a staging point for barges, dig in and wait for daylight. You will then, all going well, be split into small groups and go as protecting parties to men having specialist reconnaissance duties. At midnight we will rendezvous with the destroyers and come home.' A sand table map
Those from the 30th Battalion who were to take part in the operation, which was to be under command of Colonel Cornwall, were A, D, and C companies, one platoon from B company, mortar sections, the reconnaissance section, some members of the intelligence section, attached personnel from the signals platoon, a medical officer and orderlies and the padre. D minus one day was 29 January, when the troop assembled at Juno beach and were taken by LCPs (landing craft personnel) to the destroyers. The APDs (army personnel destroyers) which transported the men were the USS Talbot, "Waters and Dickerson. A conference was held aboard the Talbot in the afternoon when executive navy and army officers assembled in the ward room to discuss and confirm details of the raid. That night a practise landing was carried out. It was intended to land on Juno beach but this plan was abandoned, for after milling round for some time no one could decide just which part of the coast was Juno. Eventually a landing was made on the more easily discernible Mumia beach, after which the craft returned to their destroyers. Many of the men slept on their life-belts on deck rather than, in the crowded quarters below.
Next morning, 30 January, the convoy, consisting of seven vessels (three APDs and four escorting destroyers) sailed from the Vella Gulf, through the Gizo Strait, passing Ganongga on the port bow and up the west coast of
'This is good stuff,' says Shorty. I'm gonna back the old dray in
'Plenty more cawfee fellers,' drawls a sailor from Texas.
It's make-up time and mates in turn smother each other's face, neck and hands with green combat paint.
'Now you're all positive of your boat station aren't you?' asks a platoon commander of some of his men.
'Sure, sure we're right sir.'
'The smoking lamp is out on all weather decks,' comes over the ship's speaker system. As dusk turns to darkness most of the men make their way below but some continue to yarn from some unseen corner of the deck. Down below in the quarters only the dim red lights are burning and glowing cigarette ends rise and fall. Some men are resting, others yarn; several are being sick into the cardboard rubbish boxes. The hours pass and at 11.30 pm comes the call the troops have been waiting for.
'Gear on!'
'Set condition one able,' comes over the speaker system from the bridge. These are the code words to move to the decks. The troops feel their way to their boat stations, hanging on to the man in front.
'Lower all boats to the rail.' The coxswains get in and the boats sink with them to the water. The troops clamber over the ship's side into the assault boats.
'Cast off,' and the boats move away from the mother ship.
'Go on in—I order you to go through,' shouts Commander J. Macdonald Smith, USN, from the first LCP to the patrol torpedo boat commander. Twelve assault boats follow the wake of the boat in front. In the first assault boat the troops crouch, huddled on the floor. The coxswain curses a section corporal who is sick over his legs. You know you are through the lagoon entrance for it is calmer now.
'Quarter right,' orders the commander to the coxswain.
'Quarter right it is sir,' replies the coxswain.
'Fifty yards to go,' says the commander.
The keel of the boat grates on the bottom like sandpaper on wood. The ramp drops with a clatter. The colonel jumps off, stumbles, calls out, 'It's deep.' The commander follows and then the platoon runs up the beach into the bushes. Soon all you can hear are shovels slipping through the sandy soil with a sound like ripping silk. A coconut falls among the fox-holes and somebody sniggers.
One's first reaction at daylight was to take a look round and see what sort of a place one had landed in. The vegetation was like any-other tropical isle but the central lagoon was something new. Natives wearing religious medallions ventured not without nervousness into the perimeter. They quickly realised they were among friends and gave any information asked to the intelligence officer who questioned them in pidgin English. After a reconnaissance section had made certain that there were no Nips in the Pokonian plantation, parties were detailed to accompany the specialists on their duties. Platoons from D company went across the lagoon to the Tangalan plantation. From aerial photos American Air Corps executive officers had considered that this would probably be a suitable territory for an airstrip. A reconnaissance of the plantation of the proposed landing field area, which stretched from coast to coast, was made by American airfield engineers who had with them protective patrols. The natives reported that to their knowledge there were no Japs in the vicinity. Later in the day a Ventura bomber from an RNZAF squadron flew overhead and dropped a toilet roll from the plane. Everybody regarded this as a joke but the incident had its sequel. Some time later the war correspondent who was on Tangalan at the time met the crew of the Ventura.
'Did you get our message?' the pilot said.
'No—what message?'
'Didn't you pick up that roll of toilet paper?'
'Yes of course we did. And a raw joke that was.'
'That wasn't a joke. It had a message rolled up in the centre telling you to look out for Japs from barges approaching the south coast. We felt sorry for you chaps down there and thought we had better put you wise.'
Actually a message to this effect from the commander of the task force was received later in the day by the commander of the raiding force, Colonel Cornwall.
Seeking suitable places for LSTs, American naval officers took soundings along Pokonian beach and also over at Tangalan. B company platoon went to Barahun Island but on return said that the only thing of interest there was a native with an advanced case of elephantiasis. With no immediate evidence of Jap resistance one began to think that there was no enemy in the area. That this was not so was proved in the morning by a tragic episode. While taking
'… In we went again crouching low. It's a good thing we were, for the moment our bow hit that quiet little strip of sand all hell broke loose. In considerably less time than it takes to tell, the air filled with lead. Over the side—not ten feet away—was an expertly camouflaged Jap barge. Alongside was another. The Japs —two of those barges would carry about one hundred—had dug themselves pill-boxes in the coral cliffs that rose steeply from the beach behind the hideout. They were in the overhanging trees also. On their first burst of heavy machine gun fire they killed the coxswain. They knocked out both of our bow gunners before they got off a shot. In fact, they hit everybody forward of the motor,— except Commander Smith—who was standing without a helmet up by the ramp. He was the only one left who knew how to run the boat! I was crouched just behind one of the natives, just at the centre of the boat. All the time the Japs were pouring machine-gun and rifle crossfire into us from all directions, including above. Our
'Commander Smith had ducked down at the first burst but he had his back to the coxswain and didn't know he was dead. He kept shouting, "Back 'er off—back 'er off! and he finally looked round at the shambles and saw that nobody was left to back 'er off but himself. Cool as a cucumber he crawled back to the wheel, keeping below the gunwales. He got the thing in reverse after anguished seconds that seemed eternities. The wounded gunner summoned his last strength and tried to help. The Japs were still pouring it into us and no one will ever shake my belief that it was pure miracle that prevented them from killing every soul in that boat. After a couple of agonising tries the boat slipped off the sand and floated. Up to that moment I was quite sure that we would all be killed and was praying only that God would receive us properly. Now I began to pray that God would get us out of here—but it wasn't over yet. Commander Smith was backing off blind and taking a quick peep over the side now and then. Any minute were were likely to hit one of the innumerable coral heads and be stuck again, but we missed them somehow. The enraged Japs kept on firing until we were a couple of hundred yards off shore but after we got out of point blank range they didn't hit anything. We heaved the branch over the side and pacthed up our wounded as best we could. The boat looked like a slaughter house. Our boat suffered more than 50 per cent casualties and everyone forward of me had been hit.'
Lance Corporal A. Walker and Private L. J. Bishop had also been wounded as were two of the Green Island native scouts who were with the party. In addition to these were the American casualties including Commander Smith who was slightly wounded in the arm. For his gallantry in the face of the enemy in exposing himself at close quarters in order to get away 15 rifle shots,
Lieutenant O'Dowd died from his wounds in the early afternoon and was buried in the plantation. With their tasks completed over at Tangalan the reconnaissance parties of D company arrived back on the beach at Pokonian. With his full force now assembled at Pokonian, Colonel Cornwall felt at liberty to evolve a set attack on the Jap positions. The mortars who had previously been shooting at 1400 yards moved closer to their target and at 600 yards put down a further barrage.
Back on Pokonian the alarm was given—'Take cover—take cover —air raid.' You could hear the drone of low flying aircraft coming closer and closer. 'Get to hell off the beach with those barges,' roared an American officer to the coxswains of the remaining boats and they had the unenviable task of reversing their craft into the lagoon and taking evasive action. You could see the small 50 pound bombs leave the Zeros and fall in diagonal flight towards the water. Small cascades of water flicked round the barges as the strafing planes
'Hell,' said Bill afterwards, 'I didn't see them—I was well down in the old fox-hole.'
'It will be our turn soon,' everybody thought as they lay in the fox-holes in the plantation. Some in their eagerness scooped sand out of their trenches with their hands, others with arms like flails shovelled deeper into their slit-trenches to get more protection. The barges were still being strafed while one badly aimed bomb fell somewhere on the seaward side of the coast. Why the Zeros failed to make another run and strafe the beaches is a mystery, for had they done so, casualties would have been certain. The combined fire power of the barges had certainly prevented the Nips from coming in too low and forced them off their strafing run. Commander Smith's frontal attack on the Jap positions had been frustrated by the attacking aircraft. That there were Japs in the area round their barges still, was proved by the fact that they fired on the commander's craft as they had moved in just prior to the strafing. For his action in returning fire against the Japs and later manning a machine-gun and, regardless of his own safety, continuing to engage enemy air' craft until they were dispersed,
Just before dusk the barges returned and picked up the two platoons which had been landed near the Jap positions. Then, joined by the other craft, they all returned to the beachhead. None of the assault boats had been sunk, but some were holed with small calibre bullets, including the one containing the demolition charges and TNT. One of the American crew of one of the barges died from wounds received in the strafing and another was wounded.
It had been part of the original plan to remain on Pokonian beach that night until it was time to leave and make contact with the destroyers. Fearing that Jap planes would return and bomb the beach it was decided by Colonel Cornwall, after a conference with the American naval officers, to leave before dark in the barges and hide along the foreshore of other parts of the lagoon. 'Prepare to withdraw,' was the order given to the troops who gathered up their equipment and awaited the word to go aboard the barges. A check was taken to see that everybody was accounted for and that nobody
The 12 barges, in line ahead, passed through the narrow channel separating Pokonian and Barahun Island and headed out to sea. The water was considerably rougher than in the lagoon and the boats nosedived into the troughs and reared on to the crests of the waves, flinging spume over the crowded occupants. Ahead, somewhere in the darkness is heard a shout and for two seconds a red light shows. The lights of home were never more welcome than that fleeting flicker which tells us that we have made our rendezvous. The boats lift and drop at the destroyer's side as the men wait for the top of the rise to leap to the net and clamber up over the ship's side. An American officer is crushed between barge and ship and his agonised scream makes one's blood run cold. Eager hands pull him to safety. How good it it to feel the steel decks beneath one's feet and below in the quarters to drink icecold water and later a cup of hot coffee. As you lever yourself into your bunk space you know from the vibration that the ship is under way. You send up a prayer of thankfulness and think, too, of those lonely graves under the palm trees on Pokonian.
Next morning, with traces of green paint on their faces and in their hair that soap and water would not remove, the men set about cleaning their salt-sprayed weapons. The convoy hove-to off Empress Augusta Bay while some American officers were transhipped on to patrol torpedo boats. At four o'clock in the afternoon the convoy sailed through the Vella Gulf and stood off Juno beach, its mission completed. The operation had been successful, for everything that
There was mail waiting for those who had been on the commando raid to Green Island and nothing in the army was ever more welcome at any time than 'news from home'. The message which had been sent in clear (that is, not coded) by the colonel from Nissan Island: 'Request air cover—being heavily strafed' had been picked up in
In studying photographic maps of Nissan Island prior to the commando raid specialists were unable to explain what appeared to be certain cleared stone enclosed spaces. No one formerly acquainted with Nissan Island was able to shed any light on their purpose. Bishop Wade, who had been at the Roman Catholic mission station at Burunutui, on Buka Island, Bougainville, thought that they were not the work of natives. The intelligence officer who questioned natives on the commando raid on the existence of these enclosures had himself been a planter in Bougainville prior to the war. The story the natives told him was this. A fanatical native, apparently with very persuasive powers, had convinced his fellow tribesmen that at some time propitious to the gods, food and stores would be delivered to them by a phantom ship. Sheds and enclosed spaces had been constructed on prominent features so that the ship would not miss any at night. All this had happened after the removal of
In the ensuing days at Gizo as the flagship.
Friendships had been struck up by boys of the battalion with servicemen among the American units on the island, notably the 77th Seabees and the paratroopers. After tea at night, trucks crowded with servicemen not only from the American units but also from the 35th and 37th New Zealand Battalions passed the company areas going to the pictures at Joreveto, Biloa boat pool or Acorn 10. Rain had fallen every day for over 50 consecutive days and very often, as at Joreveto, it meant sitting on a hard coconut log, with a cape over one's head trying to watch a picture that one wouldn't cross the road to see at home. However, it was something to do to relieve the monotony and the cinema had become a common meeting ground for
This little story concerns some of the headquarters company boys who, one day after the first echelon had left for Green Island, were taking pot shots at an empty petrol drum floating about 200 yards off the shore. Somone aimed, fired, and suddenly with a loud report and a sheet of flames the drum was no more. What was thought to have been empty was a full drum of gas. Smoke and flames billowed off the surface of the water. A jeep arrived on the scene very shortly afterwards and some American naval officers leapt out.
'Is the pilot out?' hurriedly queried one officer.
'What pilot?'
'Didn't a plane crash here?' said the officer.
Seen from afar it looked as if a plane had crashed in flames into the water and it took a good deal of explaining on the part of the boys to talk themselves out of trouble. Practical jokers have always had scope for their activities in the army. Two officers of a certain unit were all ready to leave Guadalcanal for the forward area.
'Have you gentlemen got everything now,' they were asked by another officer. They assured him they had.
'What about your shrouds—have you each got a shroud?'
'No we haven't got one of those—do we have to have one?'
'You can't go into a combat zone without a shroud—things are tough up there—you'd better come and sign for one,'which they did. They realised later that they had been hoaxed, but on the other hand
The operation order for 'Squarepeg' (the code word for Green Island) had been issued by 10 February and companies were practised in the movements they would make on landing. Platoon strengths were to be 25 men, the remainder being appointed to unloading parties travelling with the LSTs. Not all the battalion per' sonnel would move with the first echelon, for some had to remain behind to load tents, bedcots, kitbags and less urgent gear which would go forward with later echelons. One of the problems which confronted the platoon commander was the excessive amount of gear that his men had to carry when going into action. Everything was cut to a minimum with an equitable distribution throughout the platoon, but even so, some men found themselves carrying 60 pounds which, for gruelling jungle warfare, is too much. A light machine gunner, for instance, carried his bren gun (221b.), six loaded magazines, web, water bottle, jungle knife, haversack containing two days rations, waterproof cape, a piece of towel and soap, and other inci' dentals such as mug and spoon, atebrin tablets, mosquito repellent, field dressing, sulphanilamide powder and cigarettes and matches.
On the evening of Saturday, 12 February, there put into Mumia beach two LSTs with their cigar shaped blimps, used as a protection against dive bombing attacks, floating overhead. They had come from Guadalcanal and on board was a troop of tanks which were to be employed for the first time by the New Zealand Division in jungle warfare. The LSTs would load guns and equipment and together with the LCIs (landing craft, infantry), would set out on the journey to Green Island to be joined in the night by the very much faster destroyers carrying the landing assault troops. The final day on
There were 13 ships in the convoy which sailed from Stringharn, Talbot, Kilty, Crosby, Waters, Noa, Dickerson and a protective screen of five destroyers. This, of course, was only part of the convoy for already the LSTs and LCIs carrying other New Zealand and American troops had sailed. In the preparation of the plan for the invasion, it had been assumed that the landing would be unopposed by Japanese troops. Briefly the role of the infantry battalions was this. The 30th Battalion would be first through the lagoon entrance and land on Pokonian beach, the scene of the recent commando raid. The 35th and 37th Battalions would land inside the lagoon near Tangalan and respectively sweep the eastern and western sides of the horseshoe shaped atoll.
The convoy moved northwards up the eastern side of Vella, with Choiseul Island far off on the starboard bow and soon the Treasury Islands, the area of the 8th New Zealand Brigade, is passed. On board the USS Stringharn the infantry officers and men sit cross' legged on their life belts playing bridge, or else they congregate up at the bow watching the ship cleave the water at 22 knots. One of the lads asks a young bearded Australian war correspondent—
'Was it you who described us in Australian papers as the "lean, hard bronzed New Zealanders"?'
'No,' he replied, 'you can't blame me for that one.'
Some of the boys relax in corners and read tattered magazines, while one lad, who hates the sight of the water, lies with his head in the crook of his arm longing for the hour when he can get off the ship, even if there are Japs to fight. Toward late afternoon a signal is flashed to the Stringharn that an American pilot who had baled out
There is not the keenness to apply green combat paint to faces this time, for experience had shown that it takes a week to remove it from the pores of the skin. The sea had become rougher and after sunset many move below to smoke, or try to sleep in the hot crowded quarters. Towards midnight the general alarm signal sounds through the speaker system like level crossing bells and the ship's officers and men rush to their battle stations clutching life-jackets and steel helmets. Below, in the foreboding silence of the ill-lit hold, the men sit and smoke while the sound of someone retching in the toilet adds to the tenseness. An announcement comes over the speaker—'A Jap plane has been overhead and has been fired on by our destroyers — the plane dropped bombs.' This is followed shortly by' the 'all clear'. Time drags by and as Zero hour approaches men jostle each other in the narrow spaces between bunks claiming equipment and assisting each other with the adjustment of their web. On deck, through the mist of a grey dawn, you see the wake on a calm sea of the nearest destroyer and as the light grows stronger you hear the distant pulsation of engines. Your heart leaps up to see the navigation lights overhead of a flight of our fighter planes come from Bougainville to cover our landing.
The signal for troops to move from below to the boat stations is given and by this time the full convoy is in view—LSTs, destroyers, mine sweepers, patrol torpedo boats, LCIs,—the largest convoy in which New Zealanders have taken part in the Pacific war. Ahead is the familiar low-lying Pokonian plantation and in accordance with
'Cast off' comes the order from the bridge and the barges mill round to be joined in line ahead by the other boats which are in the first wave. The leading barge heads for the lagoon entrance while officers and two war correspondents peer through binoculars for any sign of activity on the land. If the Japs are there surely they must fire on us now,' you think as the barges, once inside the lagoon, do a reverse turn and in line abreast approach the Pokonian beach. American sailors are at the 'ready' in their machine-gun turrets. The barges ground, the ramps fall, and with a clatter of hobnails the men rush off, nervously gripping rifles and machine-guns at the alert, race up the beach and push into the scrub covered plantation. The distant 'crrump' of guns is heard and high in the sky are dotted black and the white cottonwool puffs of anti-aircraft shells. You learn later that Jap planes attacked the convoy with negative results and that three were shot down—two by anti-aircraft fire and one by a fighter plane. The Pokonian plantation was swept by troops enfiladed across the entire peninsula and orders were given to move further down the island with D company on the lagoon flank, C company in the middle and A company on the seaward flank. With no opposition resulting from the landing on Pokonian it was B company's task to land on Barahun, the island at the entrance to the lagoon, and comb it from end to end.
Heavy gunfire broke out as the companies moved out from Pokonian and it was learned that a gun boat was pouring shells into the shore, from where it was alleged it was fired on by Japs. Not a great deal of distance was covered on the first day and a halt was made in the early afternoon. There is no fresh water on Nissan Island and it was imperative to husband those supplies which had been brought ashore. The men eagerly exchanged cigarettes with the natives for all the green coconuts they could bring. 'K' rations, each meal separately packed, has been issued for the first two days of the operation. They contained biscuits, a fruit bar, small tins of pork loaf, or veal and ham, or cheese; cocoa, coffee or lemon drink,
Next day, 16 February, the companies moved on. It was heavy going for everyone through the undergrowth and sometimes across mangrove swamps, especially so for signals personnel who trailed out combat telephone wire, and also for the medical orderlies carrying a wicker hamper of medical supplies. The natives, when you mentioned the word 'Japs', sucked in their breath and waved in a general direction further down the island. Numbers mean nothing to Nissan Island natives and indeed they probably have no words in their language for figures above ten. D company, during the day, pushed into the Jap barge area (the scene of the attack on the commando raid) and found three 20-millimetre machine-guns, while documents were also taken from the sunken barge. Battalion headquarters, comprising Major Keenan who directed the advance of the three companies, the adjutant, Captain G. Biss, the medical officer, Captain B. Nixon and his orderlies, the intelligence sergeant and some of his section, moved with the central company—C company. Colonel Cornwall moved with his combat team headquarters having not only the 30th Battalion under his command but also certain artillery units.
B company finished the patrol of Barahun and reported the island clear of the enemy. A, C and D companies bivouacked for the night in particularly hard coral ground where it was impracticable to dig fox-holes, forcing the men to build coral breastworks round their individual positions. Water was short and thirsty troops cut water vines in the bush to gain a few drops of bitter-tasting water. Jap planes came over that night but this time every anti-aircraft gun on the Pokonian plantation opened up on them. Pieces of falling shrapnel sang their way through the trees in the bivouac areas of the companies.
Of the two islands at the entrance to the lagoon, Barahun had been cleared while Sirot Island remained to be searched. What appeared to be two small boats had been observed close in to the shore on the lagoon side of Sirot and reported by a naval vessel. Captain D. Dalton, the commander of B company, received a warning order that on the morning of 17 February, he was to land his men on Sirot Island, and that he would have attached and under his command the following additional troops: the 4th Field Security Section, 14th Brigade Defence and Employment platoon, one platoon of the 14th Brigade medium machine gunners and one section of the 144th Battery.
Next morning after the 144th Battery, firing from Pokonian, had laid a seven-minute artillery barrage down on the beach-head near the middle of the island, the troops made an unopposed landing from their craft. The natives were observed frantically paddling away from the beach-head in their canoes. The commander moved his men into the small village where several fowls and a pig had been killed by the shelling, and formed his rear headquarters. A very frightened native was questioned in pidgin English as to whether there were any Japs on the island. He was definite in his reply that there were no Japanese on Sirot. The commander, leaving the machine gunners platoon at his rear base, moved the remainder of his forces across the island to the seaward coast, a distance of about 350 yards. The intention was to search the northern half of the island first in a manner which you might liken to a rolling-pin running round the sides of a circular pie-crust. The patrols set
Visibility through the very thick jungle was difficult. Because of the fact that the platoon on the left flank near the sea coast had found it easier going than the other platoons, the line of advance, instead of being straight, was curved. Jap sniper bullets cracked through the trees and both the defence platoon and No. 10 platoon especially (Lieutenant R. Howatson) found that moving about was a perilous business. The Japs at an early stage decided to retire to more tenable positions and as they did so
Meanwhile the advance of the other platoons had been halted on the sound of shooting. Information was difficult to obtain because Lieutenant Taylor's platoon was pinned down and he had lost contact with Corporal Davidson's section by reason of the casualties this NCO had suffered among his men. The battle commander had received the very disconcerting signal that it was thought there were about 150 Japs on Sirot. This information came to him because of the following incident. A soldier who had been wounded in the initial stages of the fight had in his delirium wandered away from the perimeter and was observed on the beach by a passing barge of the 57th Battalion whose occupants picked him up. The wounded man gave a garbled account of the action, mentioning in his story the words, '150 Japs., This information was sent back to brigade head' quarters and from there it was forwarded to Captain Dalton. By using number nine platoon to probe the flanks of the Jap resistance pocket the commander was able to satisfy himself that at least in the immediate vicinity there weren't that number of Japs.
In a very much longer time than it takes to tell, for it was now getting on to 3 o'clock in the afternoon, the commander was able to confer with his platoon commanders, and he decided to put his whole force through the area and shoot the Japs up. Number eight platoon (Sergeant N. Goodall) replaced the badly shaken defence platoon and the force manoeuvred into position for the advance. Grenades were thrown and on the signal of a whistle the whole force closed in, firing bren guns, tommy guns and rifles. No one could have stood up to the concentrated hail of bullets which went into the Jap positions round the flanges of the banyan trees. In a short time it was all over and 15 mutilated Japs were counted in the area. They were all big men with magnificent physique and the boys revised their impression that all Japs were little 'uns Judging by the green state of the wood in their hutments, the Japs had just finished constructing their bivouac area. Next morning the patrol of the northern part of the island was completed and a further dead Jap was found. Our own five dead were removed and the enemy casualties were buried.
Later in the afternoon a barrage from Pokonian plantation was brought down by the artillery on the area near the Jap assault boats. Two platoons under Captain D. Lawford and Lieutenant F. Allen went down to make a reconnaissance but the only evidence found was that the Japs had frequently used the area as a staging point Another platoon cut across the island and searched the southern seaward side of the coast with negative results. A camouflaged canoe with natives in it was seen making over the mainland of Nissan, but whether there were any Japs in it or not is a matter for conjecture. The fact that some rifles were found later by 'Tich Lewis and
Meanwhile on the mainland of Nissan the three companies pushed on through the jungle opposite the Tangapat peninsula. A company, on the seaward side of the island, reported having seen at dusk at a distance a party of 10 to 12 Japs carrying what appeared to be a stretcher but was later assumed to have been a machine-gun with bicycle shaped carrying handles. That night pigs roamed within the perimeter and their snorting and high-pitched squealing, combined with the curses and abuse hurled at them from aroused sleepers, must have given any Japs in the vicinity the impression that the New Zealanders were using a secret weapon. Just a little before the break of dawn a sound of scuffling was heard near the cliff and a voice cried—'Help! Help!' A Jap, apparently lost, had wandered into the perimeter and in stumbling over a fox hole had fallen on a wooden pick handle which he used to belabour Shorty the occupant of the trench. Shorty closed with the Jap and gave him a shove towards Sergeant Tom Pagan, who lashing out with his feet caught him in the lower regions and pushed him over the cliff. The Jap saved himself by clinging to the jagged edge and attempted to pull himself up, but Snowy Shaw spared him the trouble by letting him have a burst of tommy gun bullets, and he let go to fall fifty or
Next day the companies reached the Tanaheran area and in the afternoon dug their fox-holes. Plans were changed, however, and orders were given for the companies to move along the track leading to the Roman Catholic mission, near which the native scouts said there was a Jap bivouac. It was the intention in the morning to lay down an artillery barrage in the suspected enemy neighbourhood. Fearing that the companies had moved too close to the area and might themselves come under their own artillery fire, the commanding officer gave instructions to withdraw along the track some distance. Bivouac was made for the night near a native village clearing and where digging in the guava covered scrub was found to be very much easier than had been previously experienced. Artillery 25-pounders and 3.7 howitzers ranged on their target before darkness fell. It rained again, as on the previous night, and troops lay huddled under the scanty cover of so-called waterproof capes, in fox-holes into which the water drained. Few could sleep under such conditions but some did, and not only slept but snored too, in reverberating tones which you felt sure the Japs up to a mile away must hear.
At 0730 hours of the following morning the 25-pounders, the howitzers and our own battalion mortars opened up on the mission area. Our mortar platoon alone 'pooped off' roughly 900 bombs in the half hour barrage at the completion of which the companies moved oif towards the mission. It was hard going pushing through the undergrowth on either side of the track and difficult, too, to keep contact with troops on the flanks. C company suddenly found itself in the Jap bivouac area. Just how long since the Nips had evacuated their primitive huts is a matter of opinion although it could have been only a few hours. Their departure must have been sudden, for the neatly packed valises of the soldiers lay on the floors of their sleeping quarters in orderly rows. Avid souvenir hunters pulled out the contents which consisted silk pyjamas, blade razors, writing materials, letters from the homeland, Jap paper money, excellent
Back at Tanaheran an opportunity for a swim was given and this was done by climbing down the thick pandanus roots from the cliff to the reef below or by 'shining' down an old rope that the Japs had used at some time for the same purpose. Some of the lads wrote hasty notes on recently acquired Jap note paper, while others clustered round the base of a coconut tree to pick up nuts being thrown down. Max looked up and shouted, 'Chuck us one down, Bert.' Bert threw one and Max looked up just in time to catch it on the nose. After he came to he was taken away to hospital with a suspected broken nose. 'J' type rations were on issue to the troops now and they were a big improvement on 'k' type. They were not individual rations but were shared by two or four men and the principal items included dried apricots and peaches, one pound tin of peanuts, a packet of raisins, a tin of powdered milk, biscuits, cocoa or coffee, candy, chewing gum and 30 pieces of toilet paper. Small fire blocks were on issue for the heating of a mug of water to make hot cocoa or coffee.
Late in the afternoon number five platoon of A company under Lieutenant G. Primrose was ordered to patrol the cliffs for a distance
Meanwhile, overnight, D and G companies had occupied the stop line, dug in hard coral ground, running from the cliffs and stretching inland. From somewhere in the perimeter in the night a grenade was thrown, sending a shower of dirt and twigs into neighbouring fox-holes. Further down the line rifle shots rang out. You tensed in the fox-hole, chewing hard on your gum and felt for your rifle. Where every coconut and dead frond that falls, each lizard that darts over crackling leaves, is the imagined stealthy footfall of a Jap, the jungle plays havoc with a man's nerves. Pigs abounded on the island but they at least identified themselves with their rooting and snorting, when they wandered in and round the perimeter. Next morning, 20 February, the companies filled in their fox-holes and moved back along the road pushed through by bull-dozers, to areas near which they would be making their permanent bivouac area. While the men were drying clothes, digging fox-holes or cleaning their weapons there occurred an incident, with subsequent important events, for an account of which it is necessary to return to Tanaheran.
Quite close to the fox-holes filled in by the companies,
Attracted by the sound of firing Captain Stronach had by this time returned and, gathering as many men as he could from various units, formed a perimeter near the Jap positions. As yet no estimate could be given of Jap numbers nor with any certainty could his positions be pointed out for, being the wily jungle fighters they are, the Nips fired only when our forces did. Then, too, the enemy was using a small calibre high velocity bullet, and it was hard to distinguish the explosive crack on landing and the report on being fired. A machine-gun platoon under Lieutenant E. Ryan, who had also been in the vicinity making a reconnaissance, was brought into the action and the gunners poured hundreds of rounds into the bases of the pandanus and sprayed the tops of the trees, hoping to dislodge snipers.
At two o'clock in the afternoon two tanks were brought up and they poured their canister fire in to the enemy area, clearing the undergrowth and giving the riflemen and gunners better visibility. An attempt had already been made by Captain Stronach and some of his men to rescue Corporal R. Stannard who lay wounded in the field of fire, but although they crawled within a few feet of him the intensive knee mortar and machine-gun fire compelled them to withdraw. The corporal, who lay partly camouflaged by fallen branches, was located by Sergeant Beetham who went in with the enemy fire playing a staccato effect on the armour of his tank. The wounded man climbed up on the back and the tank backed out. Two more tanks joined battle with fresh supplies of ammunition and blasted and ripped the vegetation with their howitzers. Just after mid day Colonel Cornwall received information that an action was taking place in the vicinity of Tanaheran and he ordered his adjutant to ring D company, whose camp was near Tanaheran, and inquire if they had any knowledge of the reported action. No phone communication could be made and the adjutant, Captain Biss, taking a line party with him, dropped men off at points where bulldozers had cut in. He continued to Tanaheran and reaching the village contacted Captain Stronach.
'I'm told there's a battle going on here/ said the adjutant.
'My b——oath there's a battle going on.'
'Why aren't the Japs firing.'
'Because they only fire when we do.'
As if to confirm the captain's words a fusilade of machine-gun bursts, from both sides, shattered the lull. Soon after this Private Beban, of the machine gunners, was hit while firing his vickers and he died from his wounds. It was agreed by the two officers that infantry reinforcements were needed and Captain Biss dashed through the village up to D company to inform the colonel by 'phone of the seriousness of the situation. Communication was eventually made with the colonel and he ordered Major Bullen, the commander of B company, to move his platoons to Tanaheran and take over the command of the offensive. Only two platoons were available to go, number 15, with D company men gathered their weapons and ammunition and
The barrage by the battalion mortar platoon (Lieutenant G. Hamilton in charge) having been completed, the battle commander moved his platoons forward—the machine gunners on the right fiank, 14 platoon in the middle, and 15 platoon on the left flank. An advance of 50 yards was made in bounds, with murderous exchanges of machincgun fire on both sides. Our men flung their grenades and the Japs retaliated with longer range knee mortar bombs. Private P. Priest, with a burst from his bren gun, dislodged a Jap sniper in a tree top. Lieutenant Ryan was wounded at this stage; his platoon had reached a point where they could no longer advance except at the expense of heavy casualties. Major Bullen, sittting at the base of a tree, shouted his orders to his platoons. He had to shout to make himself heard above the din of battle and each command brought in his direction bursts of rifle and machine gun fire from the Japs who made him their priority target. Each order was carried out implicitly and not a man wavered. The platoons had now reached a position varying from 30 to 40 yards from the enemy. Grenades spat dirt and vegetation into the air and the small calibre Jap bullets cracked against tree trunks and gouged their way through coral.
Light was fading fast—in 20 minutes it would be dark—it was now or never. The major made his decision, and shouted—'When I give the order "throw"—every man throw a grenade and get up and charge—we're going in.' He waited to give them time for the throw.
'Ready.'
'Throw.'
Hardly had the explosions subsided than a rough semicircle of soldiers staggered to its feet and charged, firing tommy and bren guns from the hip, tripping over pandanus roots and coral humps, cursing and shouting, oblivious to all except the task of killing every live Jap. Captain Peter Adams and
And so was ended the bitter engagement of Tanaheran, ably begun by Captain Stronach and directed to a successful conclusion by Major Bullen whose men showed in an exemplary manner that when called to to carry the training of months into effect they had more than proved their merit. C company was ordered forward to form a perimeter for the night near the scene of the conflict, barely having time to get into position before darkness fell. Many of the company had only time to hear a garbled account of the day's events and the possibility that Japs would infiltrate through the jungle during the night was to them not a remote one. Again it rained and the troops had only coconut fronds with which to cover themselves. Somewhere a machine-gun stuttered in the distance. Paddy, when he changed his position in his fox-hole made a noise like a herd of elephants, but Mac snored on oblivious to everything. Somebody in a pleading stage whisper said, 'Fer ——'s sake give him a poke, will you.' Early next morning D company and the machine gunners came along to view the battle scene. Japanese dead in grotesque positions lay in humps among the jagged coral and pandanus roots and you formed the opinion that they had been used as human parapets by their surviving mates. All appeared to be dead until one Nip opened his eyes and, making an appraisal of the situation, quickly tapped a grenade, placed it against his chest and blew himself over the cliff to the land of his fathers. Strewn in the area were blood stained field dressings, ammunition and weapons. Some Nips had apparently escaped over the cliff by tying puttees together and using in the area and on the beach below, in addition to which were eight killed by the section of 16 platoon. Souvenir hunters promptly seized rifles, hilt encrusted swords three feet long worn by the officers, and rising sun flags taken from the insides of helmets and from the khaki clad bodies where they were worn under the uniform next to the skin.
Since there was a possibility that some of the Japs may have escaped along the coast C company was sent to patrol the cliffs and search the caves on the beach below. At various points along the beach and reef evidence was found of the Jap occupation over the past two years. Here was a camouflaged hideout for a sentry and close beside it a petrol drum strewn with fronds; there on the floors of caves wooden water buckets and empty sake bottles. Tracks at some places led over the cliff sides and these probably were the points of contact for Nip barges calling to refuel or discharge and take on passengers. No one can say just why the now annihilated Jap garrison had left the mission area to take up the position it did. Possibly these men had hoped to be taken off in the night by a barge coming from the island of Feni or New Ireland. The jungle plays tricks with one's imagination and over the past few nights, when dug in near the coast, some soldiers had sworn they had heard the sound of barge engines approaching the reef. Continuing on its patrol C company came on a large beached barge which had been shot up by our planes or naval forces. Nearby, behind some huge rocks in a ravine, was a primitive bivouac area and it was in this area that A company had killed some Japs two days previously. Suddenly forward scouts saw two Japs run into the cave of a pylon shaped rock. Closing in a section threw grenades inside but it was too dark to see the results. Corporal Albert Cockle, with his American carbine taken from the Jap camp on Gizo, and
The patrol then returned, one platoon doing a quick dispersal off the track when it came upon a Jap reclining on the flat of his back with his knees up. Nobby had pushed forward his safety catch when Archie noticing a fair number of flies round the sleeper said, 'Don't shoot— the b——d's dead.' Further along in the depressing
Lone escaped Japs continued to be picked up by different units throughout the island. On the day of the Tanaheran action some A company men had watched from their beach bivouac site, two Japs in a canoe who were putting out to sea. Fighter planes circled over them and shortly afterwards a patrol torpedo boat arrived post haste on the scene. In spite of the disadvantage of being in a tippy canoe and having only rifles for armament, the cheeky Japs gave battle for the supremacy of the seas. The heavily armed patrol boat promptly returned the fire and one Jap was killed and the other wounded, the navy vessel closing in and taking off the wounded man.
It was' estimated that 102 Japs had been killed in the different actions in which the 30th Battalion had taken part. From reports by the natives it was assumed that 17 had been killed on the com' mando raid, 16 were killed on Sirot Island, while the remainder was made up by the enemy casualties at Tanaheran and those Japs who were wiped out by the company patrols. Offset against these figures were our own casualties in the 30th Battalion of five killed and 10 wounded. In addition there were the casualties suffered by attached troops from other units who took part in the actions on Sirot Island and at Tanaheran, and the total here was six men killed and several wounded. The American naval forces had suffered three men killed on the commando raid to Nissan Island.
The companies had now taken up bivouac areas on or near where they would be making their permanent camp sites. Some of the boys in their camp near the roadside made an impressive display of bloodstained Jap flags which had the effect of attracting numerous American souvenir hunters anxious to buy them, and also the Jap rifles which had been acquired. The swapping of flags and rifles for
Changes were made in the allocation of camp sites and C company joined A company on the beach, while D company occupied an area near headquarters company. B company remained on Sirot Island, with the platoons separated on different parts of the atoll. Tents, bed cots and kit bags came forward from
For the first few weeks convoys of LSTs and Liberty ships arrived off the island nearly every five days. Working parties both day and night were supplied from the battalion to handle rations at Tangalan and Halis, or heavy bombs and equipment for the airstrip. The American Seabees working round the clock had cut an
Not since the second night of the landing, such was the allied air superiority, did any Jap plane ever actually get over the island, although air raid alarms were frequent. A new air alarm had to be devised in order to notify craft in the lagoon at night that enemy aircraft were in the offing. The alarm was the firing of three red tracer bullets, and several times working parties returning home in landing craft had to remain in the lagoon and wait for the all-clear. Every day our fighter, dive and torpedo bomber planes took off from the strip to strike at Rabaul and other New Britain targets, and Kavieng in New Ireland. New Zealand Kittyhawks based on Bougainville often took part in these raids. When the bomber strip was completed Liberator heavy bombers took off on their 11-hour sorties to the Jap naval base of Truk, over 600 miles away. Such was the confidence of air and sea executive officers at Nissan Island, that Liberty ships in the roadstead used to unload at night with the lights on. Every evening at 7 o'clock, and you could set your watch by them, patrol torpedo boats set out for the Buka passage or Feni Island, for New Ireland or New Britain shores, hunting Japanese barges.
Not very long after A and C companies had settled down in their new area, information was received over the phone at midnight that our planes had reported seeing twelve Jap barges leave New Ireland shores and head east. Many of the boys aroused from
On 2 April Lieutenant-Colonel J. McCrae marched in to the battalion and a few days later took over command of the unit from Lieutenant-Colonel Cornwall who was returning to New Caledonia after seven months' service with the unit. An axemen's carnival was held on the same day over at Tangalan near the air strip and as chips flew in the standing chop dive bombers passed overhead on the way to Rabaul to drop their 1000 pound 'eggs'. Ships of the Royal New Zealand Navy, the Matai, Tui and
Private M. J. (Sammy) Syme of B company died of sickness on 17 April and was buried with military honours next day. Due to a high incidence of stomach trouble in the battalion, blood smears had been taken of all personnel and after testing it was suspected that a large proportion of the men were suffering from hookworm. Many were flown to the New Zealand casualty clearing station at Guadalcanal for the short treatment. After not having seen a white
'What is your name?'
'Brown, Sister.'
'Have your bowels moved today, Brown?'
Not everybody was flown, some being treated at the field ambulance unit. Treatment consisted of a very liberal dose of salts, followed by a fair amount of sprinting practice. You followed this up by taking a couple of pellets the size, and colour of tommy gun bullets. These produced sensations similar to being drunk and you promptly curled up in the 'nest' for a few hours, after which you were presumably cured.
An investiture ceremony for those who had won decorations in the Green Islands campaign was held at Tanaheran on 20 April and for two recipients on the actual battle-ground where the awards were won. Those who received the ribbons of their decorations from Major-General Barrowclough were:— Major Bullen, DSO, Sergeant Reesby, DCM, Corporal Davidson, DCM (brigade defence platoon), Private Jefferis, MM, and Private Aylward, MM.
The first draft of essential industry men left in a Liberty ship on 27 April for New Caledonia.
'Who's going to draw it?' the boys enquired.
'The padre, but he doesn't know it.'
'The padre,' they incredulously exclaimed.
'Yes—Ill pay prises to the first three hymn numbers announced at church service on Sunday morning.'
There was an excellent attendance at church service.
'We will begin our worship this morning,' said the padre, 'by singing hymn number-r-r 23—"All people that on earth do dwell".' Somewhere in the congregation there was ill-concealed jubilation. And so the padre was an unwitting drawer of an art union.
The dedication service of the cemetery and chapel, attended by allied soldiers and sailors and natives, was held on 21 May. A chaplain of the American and New Zealand forces consecrated the church erected by the natives of Nissan in the burial ground. In his speech, which was translated from pidgin English by an Australian administrative official, chief Kiaplubun said: 'We natives of Nissan present you with the cemetery-chapel we have made. You soldiers of New Zealand and America are our friends. You have driven out the Japanese. You have given us medicine and food and you have looked after us well. We appreciate the work of the doctors and of the chaplain. We wish to thank you for these things. We will look after this cemetery for you and when we die our children will do the same. Now the Church belongs to you.'
Major-General Barrowclough in his speech of acceptance on behalf of the Allied forces said: 'On behalf of the American and British forces stationed on this island, I thank you warmly for the chapel which you have built and presented to us. This cemetery contains the bodies of our comrades who gave their lives in the struggle to free Nissan Island and all the territories in the Pacific from enslavement by the Japs … This chapel is proof of your wish to help us. I thank you for all you have done and all you will do to care for these graves.'
The General's speech was translated into pidgin English for the benefit of the natives.
Talk belong number one soldier. Me fella thank him you fella along house lotu you workim belong me fella. Me fella plant (buried) him, all soldier he love along fight along Nissan, along this fella mat mat (cemetery). This fashion you been work with house lotu (church) make him me savvy you can look out him good. Me talk thank you along all the work you make him behind along mat mat.'
On 29 May, 1944, the 30th Battalion embarked aboard the USS Naos and sailed south for New Caledonia.
It took the Naos eight days to do the trip from Nissan Island to Népoui, New Caledonia, and of that time two days were spent in riding out a storm, the ship during this period making only two knots. Because it was such a crowded ship, only two meals a day were served—served, that is, to those who could face the chow line. Here in a letter to his mother, Butch describes the trip and his reactions on arrival. 'I need hardly tell you that I didn't give out with the celebrated Fitzpatrick oration as we drew away from "the island of dreams" (of lots of things—home'n all that) and it was more with exhilaration that I took my last long lingering glance at that certain "somewhere in the Pacific". Our ship was of the Liberty class (one of mal-de-mer. Strangely enough I travel like a ferry captain on any but the big transports. This time, however, I duly rang the bell again but it was mainly due to our striking some roughish weather which shoved the ship and my stomach around more than somewhat. For two days and nights I stuck real close to my bunk and though the inner man did prompt a couple of ventures to the chow line the other guy was never able to get very far before discovering it wasn't such a hot idea. And smartly back to the billet "we" crawled. Apart from the lean patch I enjoyed the trip to its capacity, limited though it was. We played a lot of bridge, mooched round, took in
'After being in the habit of sleeping with a solitary blanket under, instead of over one, I didn't do a very good job of making up the nest. The result was that on each of the customary 54 gyrations there'd be a little gap some place and in would rush what felt like the blast of an ice-berg. The process of going to bed entails some cunning folds and tucks with the rugs, and a little titivating round, after which the bye bye boy snakes feet first into a verit' able cocoon. It pins a guy down flatter 'n a strait jacket but—it works. Coming back here was really an experience, for the mere sight of such things as telegraph poles and fences seemed to betoken a civilisation we'd almost forgotten. What this barren land can boast is a poor compromise I know, but at least it's getting us used to the idea of the old familiar scenes we hope to be seeing in due course. As for this camp itself it has already given us a few samples and I might say I like the idea of civilisation.'
Give New Zealanders a football to kick round and they are happy. Intercompany and inter-battalion rugby was played, and hockey, soccer and basketball. Movies were screened every night, while the 2YA concert party staged two very enjoyable shows. Leave parties were arranged to Bourail beach, to stay at the Kiwi Club, which was staffed by WAACs. Also popular was the Bourail Club where the WAACs served dainty morning teas and suppers to soldiers who, after months in the jungle where only mascu-
The essential industry draft had by this time arrived in New Zealand. The first and second furlough parties of the 30th Battalion left Tene valley, Bourail for Noumea on 11 July, 1944, passing en route through the French villages of Moindou, La Foa, Boulapari, Tontouta and Paita. That morning the men, together with other personnel from various units of the Third Division, were taken out to the USS Pinkney, a hospital ship which was to take them to New Zealand. It was hard work staggering up the ship's gangway loaded with a kit bag stuffed with American cigarettes, cigars for the 'old man' and towels for mum. It was grand to lean over the rail as the ship passed the old wreck in the reef near the lighthouse and feel you were going home. Last time, you remember, you were going north—north to the combat zone and you wondered what else. Now your destination was the seaside suburb of Happy Valley. 'Wonder if the boys still foregather at the Shamrock on Saturday afternoon—maybe I'll be able to play cricket this year—that is, if Anna doesn't mind. I suppose the lawns will want cutting.' And your thoughts meandered on. You looked round the deck and returned a wink from Archie. Archie was your tent mate at Momi Bay, Fiji, and you remembered sitting together at dusk watching the glare in the sky from the burning sugarcane. Since then there had been Koumac—lonely Koumac where the belled cows jingle-jangle-jingled round your tent at dawn; Skyline trail, Guadalcanal at night with the candle-Ht tents picked out on the ridges; diving into the surf from the reef at
The USS Pinkney arrived in Auckland on 14 July, 1944 Subsequent drafts, included in which were members of the 30th Battalion, arrived in Auckland in the ensuing weeks on the USS Tryon, Talamanca and the Brastagi. And so, after three and half years on active service, during which time over 2000 men passed through its ranks, the battalion ceased to be. Some of its members sleep in warriors' graves, some on the jungle islands, some in the North African desert and some in Italy. From the heat of the tropics, some fight on in the Italian snows as this is written. Many have returned to civilian life, but soldier or civilian the words of an old school song echoes our thoughts—
The End
The following awards were won by members of the 30th Battalion:-
American Awards
At the conclusion of hostilities, Lieutenant-Colonel Cornwall was awarded the American Legion of Honour, degree of officer.
The following is a copy of the embarkation rolls of the original 30th Battalion, whose members embarked on the Rangatira and who sailed from Auckland for Lautoka, Fiji, on 11 November, 1940.
The following is a copy of the embarkation rolls of the 30th Battalion, whose members embarked on the President Coolidge and who sailed from Suva, Fiji, for Auckland on 3 July, 1942.
The following members, who constituted the 30th Battalion's advanced party to New Caledonia, sailed on the Crescent City on 29 October, 1942 from Wellington for Nouméa.
The following is a copy of the embarkation rolls of the 30th Battalion, whose members embarked on the President Monroe on the 3 December, 1942, and sailed from Wellington for Nouméa, New Caledonia, on that day.
The following officers and men joined the battalion at various times subsequent to the unit's arrival in New Caledonia.
The complete set of unofficial histories of the Third Division, 2nd NZEF IP, is as under:—