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16
The War is Over

I now applied for leave to visit my brother in England. I was allowed two weeks away, so made my way down to Rome again and hitchhiked a ride in a York from my brother's squadron, which was still doing a regular run to Britain. Graeme was away so I made my headquarters at the New Zealand Forces Club in London.

I contacted Anne Chambers and we arranged to have dinner together. Her fiancé had been liberated from a German prisoner of war camp and was expected home soon, so they had arranged to be married on Saturday June 7, which was in about 10 days' time, a few days after my scheduled return to Italy. Her mind was obviously made up so this I had to accept.

With time to kill, I wandered down the Strand one day, idly window shopping, and came across a gun shop with the name C B Vaughan engraved above the window. This rang a bell as the pair of Purdy shotguns loaned to me on my trip to Scotland in 1940 had been sold to the owner by C B Vaughan of London. My appreciation of fine workmanship had been stimulated by page 191 these Purdys, so I strolled inside to see what was on offer. The price for a new Purdy was way beyond my reach and, being wartime, there was not much choice. The salesperson offered to fit a gun to me, if I found anything I liked. He opened a leather case which contained a 40 year old Holland & Holland made to measure for the present owner who wanted to sell it. The gun, which looked as if it had never been used, was finely engraved on the body and had a deeply polished walnut stock.

The gun was assembled and handed to me. I tried the action and all the joints were as tight as a drum; I looked down the bore and both barrels shone like diamonds. I snapped the action closed and quickly raised it to my shoulder with my eye on a mounted pheasant on the wall at the far end of the shop. That bird would not have survived as the gun lined up perfectly and I knew it had to be mine. At 100 guineas the price was reasonable and I was assured that Holland & Holland were second only to Purdy as the best gun makers in the world. I walked out of that shop feeling very satisfied but without realising how much pleasure that gun would give me throughout the rest of my life. It is now 100 years old and still in perfect condition. The money I had put aside to possibly buy an engagement ring had been put to good use.

When Graeme returned, I was surprised to discover he had recently been married, so off I went to meet the new bride. While they appeared to be happy enough the partnership did not last long. It had been a rather impulsive wartime relationship and, within a few months, they broke up and by mutual agreement they divorced. When the war was over Graeme, with his wartime flying experience, joined the Dutch airline KLM where he met and later married a Dutch air hostess — Julie Antoinette Dunbar. They are now living happily with their two sons — Anthony and Dan and their families — in South Africa.

On returning to Trieste, I found the battalion had been issued its marching orders and was to leave the city almost immediately. page 192 We had one final gathering at Villa Valerio where the battalion officers put on a farewell party for the Sevastopolou family to express our gratitude for their wonderful hospitality. As the party wound to a close, in a touching ceremony Madam Sevastopolou presented me with a silver rose bowl, a family heirloom, on which the following words had been inscribed:

To the Liberators
of the 22nd NZ Battalion
In memory of unforgettable
May June 1945 days
at Villa Valerio Trieste

It was a gesture which had come from the heart and there were tears on both sides at our final parting. The rose bowl is now one of my treasured possessions.

Before leaving Trieste, I was informed I had been awarded the American Legion of Merit for the battalion's actions during the final weeks of the war when the 22nd had played such a prominent part within the new 9th Brigade. Brigadier Gentry had proved to be a very able commander and we had all reached such a high pitch of efficiency we felt nothing could stop us. The citation reads as follows:

‘The White House
Washington

Citatation for Legion of Merit
Degree of Officer

Lieutenant Colonel Haddon Vivian Donald DSO, MC 9th New Zealand Infantry Brigade distinguished himself in combat while serving in Italy during April and May 1945. Colonel Donald commanded the 22nd New Zealand Battalion during the advance page 193 from the River Senio to Trieste. The battalion was in action continuously from the River Santerno to the River Gaiana, taking part in a night attack which forced the crossing of the strongly held Sillaro Line and inflicting heavy losses on the German Paratroopers. From the River Piave till it entered Trieste, the 22nd Battalion was the leading infantry unit in the 2nd New Zealand Division. Throughout these operations Colonel Donald led his battalion with outstanding gallantry and skill, generally with the leading company during the pursuit and showing complete disregard for his own safety. His example was an inspiration to all ranks.

Harry Truman’

The citation was signed in the White House by President Harry S Truman and was presented to me by the American ambassador at his ‘Fernside’ residence in the Wairarapa in 1946.

During my absence in England, all preparations and appointments for the return home to New Zealand had been made and I found to my delight there was no job for me so I could travel home as a freelance. My BMW was still there in the battalion workshop and had been carefully looked after in my absence. Remembering my friend Marco Vucetic's slogan that ‘Nothing is not possible’, I gave Major Lloyd Cross the job of getting it aboard the ship which was to transport the battalion from Bari back to Egypt. Most of the single men and some other volunteers had been drafted off for service in Japan with the 22nd under the command of Lieut. Colonel Sandy Thomas, who later became a highly successful career officer in the British Army. Major Cross arranged with my driver to get the BMW aboard the ship but, unfortunately, it page 194 was not on the approved list of vehicles to go to Egypt and the British officer in charge of the troops on board was adamant it should be off-loaded. Lloyd was frustrated but managed to get a message to me explaining what had happened and told me where I could pick up the car.

When I took possession a couple of days later, I decided my chances of getting it aboard another boat in Bari were slim but Taranto was only a 100 miles south and it was a bigger port with a lot more shipping, which presented more opportunities. I drove straight to the waterfront in Taranto where I soon got into conversation with the captain of a small Dutch cattle boat which was going to Tripoli in North Africa that night and yes, sure, he would take me and the car there with him. I asked about payment but he waved the thought aside. “Come aboard and be my guest,” he said.

We had a calm trip across the Mediterranean and he was delighted to be given some New Zealand honey and cans of Bluff oysters. A big, burly man, he gave me a bear hug when he sent me on my way; a most agreeable fellow. The 1,200 mile journey from Tripoli to Cairo was going to be interesting. I had flown over that part of the country before but had not been much beyond Tobruk on the ground. The division had fought over it all but we, in the 22nd, had been back in Egypt training with our newly formed tank brigade during the final phases of the Desert War.

Everyone I met en route was most co-operative and I was supplied with food and petrol at the various depots along the way. If there was a checkpoint on the main road ahead, I would be warned to detour south into the desert and come back onto the main road further east. It was an exhilarating feeling to be a freelance operator in the desert and I could imagine what it would have been like to be on a lone patrol in the Long Range Desert Group. All check points were successfully avoided and I arrived at Maadi Camp within three days to page 195 find the battalion just moving in.

We were all of the same mood — impatient to get home, and the delay in Cairo was irksome. When we finally embarked, I was pleased to find I was still a freelance; the 22nd had been sent to Japan so I had no troops to look after. It was a most enjoyable voyage and, as we were approaching Melbourne, it appeared we might just get an opportunity to see the 1945 Melbourne Cup race for which my brother-in-law — Ted Preston — had entered his horse ‘Typhoon’, which was rated as race favourite. However, we were just too late and when we arrived I heard someone had set fire to ‘Typhoon's’ stable the night before the race and, while the horse was saved, it was so unsettled it had to be scratched. It was a great disappointment for my sister's family and for me as well.