6
An Escarpment Called Minqar Qaim

News came that the division was being sent to Syria to guard the Turkish border against a possible German attack through that country. Prior to leaving, I managed a few days leave in Ismalia — a resort on the Suez Canal where Barney Clapham and I did a little yachting on the lake. After we assisted two Australian nurses who had capsized their yacht on a sandbank, we arranged to meet them for dinner that night and struck up a friendship. Somehow they knew of our impending move to Syria and, as their hospital was in the Sinai Desert close to the first railway station over the border, they said they would meet us there as the train routinely stopped for half an hour. As we were to pass through in the middle of the night, we did not expect them to keep their promise, but to our delight they were on the station platform to meet us with six bottles of Aussie beer. They had walked four miles across the desert to see us. To the envy of the whole battalion, Barney and I page 70 joined them and had a most pleasant half hour in the adjacent sand dunes drinking the lovely Australian beer they had managed to keep cold in an ice box. We were forever indebted to those two nice Australian girls who went out of their way to be friendly to two Kiwis so far from home.

Meanwhile, the divisional anti-tank set up had come in for scrutiny and it had been decided to establish an anti-tank company within each battalion. I was appointed to command this company so off I was sent on a month long course to learn all about it. The new 6-pounders were issued in limited supply and were mounted on portées so the guns could fire on the move or they could be dismounted and fired from a defensive position on the ground. We trained hard in Syria and later in the desert and became very good at mounting and dismounting up and down the ramps onto and off the portées.

For shooting practice in the desert we used as a target an old tank turret with a can of petrol inside and a cheer would go up every time we scored a hit which ignited the fuel. No one seemed overly concerned how much ammunition we used so we quickly gained experience. Unfortunately, when we next went into action, the company was split up with a troop of guns going to each infantry company and I resumed my role as an infantry company commander.

Syria brought great balm to our souls. Far away from any danger, so long as the Germans did not invade Turkey, it was mostly green countryside with mountains and forests enhancing the landscape. There was desert too where we could carry out manoeuvres under realistic conditions for our eventual return to North Africa. At times we were sent on guard duty to the Turkish border north of Afrine where we could see the occasional Turkish sentry across the river which marked the border. We were friendly without making actual contact. One night while doing the rounds of my forward page 71 sections, I could not resist stripping off and swimming to the Turkish side, all in the name of reconnaissance, of course. It was advantageous to know the depth and flow of the river which was only about 20 yards wide but quite deep and fairly fast with muddy banks. We, in the lower echelons of command, were quite unaware that the division's role in the event of a German attack was to advance into Turkey to meet the Hun head on.

During a break on manoeuvres one day, I sat down on a large boulder to eat my lunch when suddenly I felt an acute pain in my backside. I leapt into the air — some said it was the quickest they had ever seen me move — and there on top of the flat stone I had been sitting on was an enormous scorpion brandishing his tail menacingly at me. It was his stone and he clearly resented my presence, but it was his final act as my boot quickly reduced him to pulp.

Rather disconcerted, I thought I should report to the RAP to see if the doctor had any antidote to the poison. But as I proceeded there, I felt another sharp pain, this time on the opposite groin. My pants were down in a flash as I expected to find his mate had crawled up my trouser leg and I had been attacked again. It felt like another scorpion sting but there was no culprit there; it seems the poison had simply moved from my backside to the nearest gland, with a very painful outcome. I thought the doctor was most offhand as he simply told me to lie on a stretcher where he could keep an eye on me to see whether or not I survived. As I did survive, perhaps he knew what he was doing.

We had quite friendly relations with the locals who made good use of our doctor for prescriptions and some minor operations. They reciprocated with gifts of fresh vegetables and eggs and on one occasion the local ‘Mukta’ or head man invited six officers to dine with him. There were 12 of us at the dinner table — all males — and the women, wearing veils, page 72 served in the kitchen and at the table. The women, we were told, would eat the leftovers in the kitchen later.

The main course was an enormous bowl of mutton stew, the final decoration the six eyes from the three sheep killed for the feast. The bowl was passed round and offered to the guests first, with the suggestion that we should help ourselves to an eye if we so wished. The ‘Mukta’ watched closely and to his obvious delight no one took an eye from the bowl which was then handed to him. He scooped out each eye with his fingers and ate them all with obvious relish. The meal went off very well, everyone was very polite and there was lots of camaraderie afterwards. However, when I tried to introduce a similar system of dining to my own family in later years, the idea was received very coolly indeed!

While we made every attempt to keep onside with the locals, we soon found that, like the rest of their Middle Eastern counterparts, they could not be trusted. Their natural tendency for intrigue was bred in the bone. Their avarice and mistrust of their own kind was normal for them and, unfortunately, the leopard does not change its spots. Food was in short supply so the Syrian merchants cornered the market for flour which they then sold at exorbitant prices and the Allied army had to take over the distribution of flour to keep them honest.

After four months of training and guard duty in Syria away from the tension of battle, the morale and health of the division had been restored and we were looking forward to more action. Then, on June 14 1942, the 5th Brigade, now under Brigadier Kippenberger, received the news that Rommel had broken through in the Western Desert and there appeared to be no way of stopping him. Manoeuvres were off and motor transport was provided to move the New Zealand Division to Egypt post haste to help stem the German onslaught. Because of the speed that was necessary, the trucks page break

The original officers of 22nd Battalion in 1939.
Back row, from left: 2 Lt T G N Carter, 2 Lt L Leeks, Lt R B Fell, 2 Lt B V Davison, 2 Lt F G Oldham, Lt E J McAra, Lt L B Clapham, Lt G G Beaven. Third Row: Lt G C D Laurence, Lt D F Anderson, 2 Lt C N Armstrong, 2 Lt J L MacDuff, 2 Lt P R Hockley, Lt S H Johnson, 2 Lt C I C Scollay, Lt W G Lovie, Lt H R Harris. Second Row: Lt W G Slade, 2 Lt H V Donald, Lt W M Manchester, Capt J Moore, Lt E H Simpson, Lt M G Wadey, Lt W W Mason, Lt T Thornton, Capt T C Campbell, Capt W Bourke, Capt I A Hart, 2 Lt T R Hawthorn, Lt K R S Crarer. Front Row: Lt E T Pleasants, Maj J G C Leach, Maj J Leggat, Maj G J McNaught, Lt-Col L W Andrew, Capt P G Monk, Capt E F Laws, Capt J W Bain, Capt S Hanton. (Absent, Rev W E W Hurst, 2 Lt E E Tyrell.)

14 Platoon, 22nd Battalion in 1940.

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Royal passengers - King George Vl speaks to my pilot brother Graeme on landing.

Graeme and me in London.

‘Two up’ in Kent — the caption reads “Self made £3 this day.”

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Section of 14 Platoon at home in Greece.

The pipe band in Egypt.

Some desert ‘homes’.

My batman, George Pearce, ‘at home’;

One of our better habitations.

My HQ in the Alamein line.

page break Shots in the desert.

The turret of a tank used for target practice by our Anti-Tank Company;

One of my portees with gun and crew and captured German flag.

Showering in the desert — I'm turning the handle for Fred Oldham.

Outside the 22nd Battalion's Officers' Mess — from left, Captain Haddon Donald MC, 2nd Lieut. Keith Elliott VC, Lieut. Jim Frazer.

Lieutenant H V Donald receives the Military Cross from General Freyberg at a Divisional parade near Maadi Camp.

page 73 kept going through the heat of the day and there were serious problems as tyres started to blow out at an alarming rate. No matter how little air we put in them, the heat built up the pressure to bursting point. Somehow, though, replacement tyres were found and we kept on rolling south and then west. It took us only five days to travel the 1,000 miles to Mersa Matruh, halfway between Alexandria and Sollum on Egypt's western border. “You're going the wrong way, chum!” was the cry to us from the British units heading helter skelter for Alexandria with evacuation clearly in mind.

At Mersa Matruh, the division consolidated with the 6th Brigade going into reserve. The chaos subsided and the wholesale rout of the 8th Army gradually came to a halt. The destruction of papers and preparations to evacuate from Cairo and Alexandria were stopped and the panic which had taken hold at middle east headquarters slowly died away. Order was restored but, in the meantime, the Afrika Korps had driven the 8th Army clear across Cyrenaica to the gates of Cairo. Massive dumps of supplies were captured and all the positions won previously with so much sacrifice had been lost.

The stand made by the 8th Army at Gazala-Bir Hacheim, south of Tobruk, had been gallant and bloody. The British, Indian, French and South African troops considerably outnumbered the Axis forces but the impetus and direction of the battle was dominated by Rommel's superior generalship against a weak and indecisive Allied command. The ‘Brigade Group’ theory still influenced British tactics and switches in command of infantry and artillery resulted in confusion which Rommel capitalised on. The troops did their job but the higher command failed.

The New Zealand Division's first task on our return from Syria was to occupy and restore the Matruh Box west of Alamein. The defences had filled with sand and the mine fields were of questionable value. A move to reduce the size page 74 of infantry battle groups to two companies with supporting artillery and other arms was flatly turned down by division which was now up to full strength and twice as strong as any other division in the 8th Army. General Freyberg wanted to be relieved of his static role in the Matruh Box, regarding such boxes as traps, and requested a mobile role with sufficient transport to move us all at once. However, we had to rely on army pool transport to move the division and there were not sufficient trucks available. Divisional headquarters decided to reduce the size of the division to suit the available transport and 6th Brigade, protesting loudly, was sent back into reserve. Each infantry battalion was to send one company back to Maadi and all seconds in command were also to go. As I was then second in command of C Company this involved me and, unsuspecting, I answered a call to report to our CO John Russell. Anticipating a prolonged campaign in the desert, and knowing water would be in short supply, I had shaved off my hair and was now completely bald.

“You are to go back to Maadi, LOB (left out of battle),” said John. Thinking I was being victimised, I whipped off my hat and said, “I can't go back like this, Sir.” He grinned and explained the situation to me. The LOB scheme would allow a unit which had suffered a major setback to be quickly reformed with additional reinforcements. So back went a lot of us, about 100 men from the battalion, little knowing that before very long we would be practically the sole survivors of the 22 nd.

The reduced division, now completely mobile, moved out of the Mersa Matruh Box into the open desert and formed up on an escarpment at Minqar Qaim, about 20 miles south of Matruh, where they dug in as best they could. Meanwhile, the Axis forces were pressing on into Egypt, hampered only by an extreme shortage of fuel and by harassing raids on their supply columns by the RAF and the Long Range Desert page 75 Group. Unaware that the New Zealand Division had left the Matruh defences near the coast and, with No 1 Armoured Division, was lying in wait on an escarpment some 20 miles south, Rommel pushed forward with all speed, brushing aside several British ‘Penny Packets’ trying to guard minefields until, attempting to outflank the Matruh defences, he ran slap bang into the New Zealand Division.

The first attack on Minqar Qaim came in the form of artillery fire from the north which our troops countered by moving some of our own artillery to within range. These guns soon returned after encountering German tanks which inflicted several casualties on the New Zealand gunners. A heavy exchange of artillery fire ensued, one shell killing five and wounding seven divisional HQ staff. The Germans then by-passed the New Zealand Division to the north and east.

While the NZ Division was expecting support from No 1 Armoured Division, no tanks were directly under command and contact with them was lost. During the day, tank and infantry attacks were launched at the New Zealanders from the north, east and south, all of which were repulsed. Eventually contact was made with No 1 Armoured, by now stationed some 10 miles west of the NZ Division. Completely unaware there had been fighting all day, they agreed to send some tanks to help, but unfortunately they ran into New Zealand positions first, were mistaken for the enemy and were shelled by ‘friendly fire’. However, when recognised, their presence gave a boost to the division which counter attacked and forced the enemy to withdraw.

General Freyberg quickly decided that, if he was to retain his mobility, he would have to break-out and a divisional rendezvous was set 90 miles to the east. In the late afternoon he went to a forward lookout to watch the progress of an enemy attack from the south and was wounded in the neck by a shell splinter. With the general out of action, command page 76 of the division went to Brigadier Inglis who decided to break out that night and, fortunately, was called on by General Lumsden, commander of 1 Armoured Division, who offered assistance. Four Brigade, under Lt. Colonel Burrows, led the attack which was delayed by the late arrival of the Maori Battalion. With bayonets fixed, Brens, Tommy guns and grenades at the ready, the determined advance started. One thousand yards was covered before contact was made and an epic encounter took place. The Germans, totally surprised by the silent attack, were slaughtered with no holds barred; over 300 of their graves tell part of the story. During the three day encounter, 150 New Zealanders were lost, killed or subsequently dying of wounds.

Most of the enemy fire on fixed lines was too high to be effective while our Tommy guns and bayonets were used with deadly effect. In the smoke and dust and noise of the battle, there seemed to be terrible confusion, but out of chaos came order and the division came through reasonably intact and ready to fight again. Meanwhile, Captain Charles Upham had earned a bar to his Victoria Cross with his legendry leadership of C Company of 20th Battalion during the break-out. Our night attack techniques were proving to be most effective.

The New Zealanders were later criticised by General Rommel for killing wounded German troops in their beds during this break-out, but this would not have been done intentionally. In the dark, in the heat of battle, and in a desperate situation, the New Zealanders would have hurled grenades and fired Tommy guns into every truck or tent in their way. It was a life or death struggle. Publicity seeking English journalists have recently raised this subject again, but showed no understanding at all of the circumstances prevailing at the time.