Chapter Thirteen
the holding Role

On 1 December, an extensive re-shuffle took place in the appointments of officers in the division. This was designed to give younger men the opportunity of exercising command in the forward area, and also to have experienced men take back their knowledge to those who had been left behind at base. Our Commanding Officer Lieutenant-Colonel Eyre returned to New Zealand on account of age, and the Second-in-Command, Major Reidy, was promoted to lieutenant-colonel and appointed our new commanding officer. There were many other changes—Major H. A. Wernham, who had for years been somewhat of a battalion institution, was transferred to the 8th Brigade Machine-gun Company; and we had several other officers transferred to base on tour of duty, or posted to other battalions on promotion.

The search for Japanese stragglers continued. In the dense gullies of Mono a Japanese could live indefinitely without capture if he had food; and it was only on the occasions when he was forced into the garden areas in search of provisions that we had any chance of catching him. A spectacular escape was attempted one night in December by two of the enemy who seized a native canoe a few hundred yards south of Malsi, and were paddling strongly in the direction of the Shortlands before word reached battalion headquarters. The wires hummed and, within half an hour, a PT boat come roaring out of Blanche Harbour in pursuit. Three miles off-shore we watched the ship slow down, circling, and then a stream of tracer come flying from its guns. The canoe and its occupants had been located and destroyed. More Japs were shot by our patrols, and the natives continued to claim an occasional prisoner. One afternoon a native page break

The cream coral beaches of Tonga's northern coast are backed by feathery coconut palm

Once established at Bouloupari, in New Caledonia, work began on the formatio of a bathing pool, which meant blocking the stream with this formidable dan

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Above: B company's outdoor mess in New Caledonia
Left: An Aldershot oven and, below, the cookhouse for headquarters company among the niaoulis at Bouloupari

page 85in the jungle was accosted by two Japanese and asked to bring them food. This he agreed to do. Hurrying back to the village he gathered a few native men together and they returned in force. There was a short struggle. One Jap attempted to use a grenade, but one of the native boys was too quick for him, and gave him a beautiful black eye for his pains.

Our new Chaplain, Padre A. H. Lowden, who had now relieved Padre Froud, was very wrath on one occasion when he struck up an acquaintance with a figure some 50 yards away in the jungle. The figure made a few remarks to the padre in good English. Too late Padre Lowden realised that it was a Jap wearing our clothing and not one of our men. Attempts to induce the enemy to give themselves up were not successful, despite a number of notices which we had written up in Japanese characters urging the stragglers to surrender and telling them they would be 'well fed and looked after'. We had five or six of these prepared and tacked to trees in the garden areas where the Japs were most likely to see them. The only response was that one notice was carefully removed from its tack, turned upside down, and re-hung. This was probably the Japanese equivalent of saying 'Nuts!' Such of the enemy as remained at large lived here after as hunted animals. Frequent patrols were out, investigating reports of footprints, or keeping watch on the gardens, and hardly a week passed, right up to the time of our final departure from the island, when there was not some chase afoot. Even dogs from American units were used to track down those whose footprints we discovered.

A highlight of this patrolling activity was a remarkable incident which occurred when part of the carrier platoon was searching the area near Lake Akea, between Malsi and Soanotalu. (They spent half the time looking for Japs, the other half looking for crocodiles, a few of which were to be found in the lake). Two Japs leapt out of cover some distance ahead of the patrol, and ran for healthier regions. Without pause Private 'Jungle' Holmes threw up a .455 Webley revolver that he had just recently bought and fired. One worshipper of the 'Son of Heaven', who did not want to die, dropped kicking in his tracks, while the other escaped. The victim had been shot through the head and at a range (for it was measured) of 63 yards! Not even gunmen on the silver screen would normally dare to hit their target at this distance. It was a fluke, but a magnificent one. Towards the end of January 1944, frequent traces of Japanese page 86in the vicinity of A company's lines at Malsi gave rise to some cutting allegations that A company had a Jap on their ration strength. Food, clothing, and weapons were reported stolen. The intruder was finally caught early on the morning of 30 January by an American cook, who was with a detachment of a construction battalion then camped alongside us. The cook swung at the Jap with a Coleman lamp that he was carrying, dazed him, and grappled with him while help arrived. The Jap's hideout was later discovered very close to our open-air picture theatre, so it is a fair assumption that he enjoyed some of our films from a strategic position in the very-back stalls.

It is acknowledged that much of the credit for the allied success in the Pacific must go to the supply services, which functioned so magnificently under great difficulties. Many civilian people have an impression that supply is a thing performed by some nebulous 'third party', and few have any idea of the vast calls it makes on the manpower of an army. It is seldom appreciated that the colossal amount of work done in getting petrol on to forward air bases, in having available replenishments of ammunition up to five times the amount required in an action, in storing and shipping rations for thousands of men sufficient to last them several months—this work, while primarily the responsibility of, and organised by the supply departments of the army, is usually performed by the ordinary soldier of the line. He works more often than he fights. On the. Treasuries human hands had to unload every particle of equipment that was required for the operation of what was becoming an important naval and air base. As more and more supplies arrived, so heavier grew the calls on the battalion for working parties, particularly with the development of the air field on Stirling Island and the consequent tremendous demand for petrol. Unloading and stacking of 44 gallon petrol drums will always occupy a special place in the memory of the men. Many days were spent at this gruelling task, which was not without its danger as the drums came hurtling out of the open bows of an LST, down the ramp and on to the shore. As fast as the men on the ship could roll the drums out, and send them leaping crazily down the ramp, so the waiting men on shore grabbed them and rolled them to the stacks. There was a number of injuries, fortunately none serious. In handling bombs, explosives, or other ammunition there was no extra pay; perhaps, when unloading rations, a case of fruit-juice might be opened for page 87the benefit of the men working. There could be no work more arduous than this, just eight degrees from the equator.

A man of picturesque speech, with an enviable beard, 'Hank' Puhle was a personality known to everyone in the battalion. He was coxswain and skipper of the large barge alloted to the battalion for its exclusive use. 'Hank', and the other Americans of his crew, were adopted as members of the battalion. There was no access to Malsi except by water (save by a difficult foot track through from Falamai) so every working party, all foods and stores, every man going out of camp on duty, travelled on 'Hank's' barge. He was no mean coxswain, and we had many an occasion to admire his skill as he negotiated the difficult landing at Soanotalu or Luana in a heavy sea. Prior to the war, 'Hank' had never been off the land. As regular as a train service (and about as punctual) the daily ferry barge would come around from Stirling and Falamai, bringing mail, stores, passengers or equipment. It usually reached Luana at about 12.15 pm and Malsi a quarter of an hour later. The arrival of the ferry was always the occasion for a small crowd to gather to see who and what was coming to our domains. Depending on the state of the beach, the barge would carry on around to Soanotalu and then make its return journey, stopping again at Malsi and Luana.

They chose the name Spam because it typified, more than anything else, the life of a soldier in the tropics. It was the name given to the new battalion magazine produced under the joint direction of Captain McMillan, Captain A. Alison and Corporal J. G. Stevenson. Since the Rag-Bag of Nausori days, the battalion had not had a news-sheet, so the publication of Spam in December was very welcome. With each of its irregular editions it improved—there was even a Christmas gala number—and the editors had the satisfaction of seeing the main story in one of the last issues awarded the prize by Kiwi News as the best contribution of the week. As proof of its own popularity, Spam printed the following comments, allegedly sent to it by some of its enthusiastic readers:

Winston C.—Spam will be read on the beaches, in our villages, on the streets, in our mountains.

Franklin D. R.—Youse guys sure have toined on de woiks.

Joseph S.—The best I've red.

Ex-senior officer.—Nothing like it since Waterloo.

34th Battalion.—We read your first issue and are eagerly looking forward to your final number.

All copies of Spam have been preserved for posterity in official army archives.

For men of the 34th Battalion, Christmas 1943 was a period of unusual contrast. Despite the carnival atmosphere, the war had a poor habit of persistently intruding. The commanding officer had formed a small committee to organise all events over the Christmas season, and it did an excellent job. Turkey dinner was the feature of Christmas Day itself, served in traditional style by the officers to the men. There had been special church services in the morning, and in the evening a big crowd gathered in the recently completed Ymca hut for an interesting talk by the new senior chaplain, Bishop Gerard. A party of natives arrived at this talk, and sang a number of hymns.

A full-scale athletic carnival started on Boxing Day and carried on for four days. It included competitions in swimming, water-polo, canoe-racing, basket-ball, wood-chopping, and a cross-country race over the rough jungle track between Soanotalu and Malsi. Everything went with a swing the first two days, and then on the morning of 28 December the contestants in the cross-country race set off from Soanotalu for Malsi. The intelligence officer, Lieutenant I. G. Turbott soon went into the lead and held a commanding position to within half a mile from home. At that point he had the disturbing experience of coming upon a Jap at the side of the track. The Jap made off into the bush, pursued for a short distance by Lieutenant Turbott, clad in his shorts and jungle boots and, of course, unarmed. Being thus in no condition for a long pursuit, he returned to the track, resumed running and still came in first, to the delight of his several backers who knew of his previous experience in athletic circles in Auckland. On the tote, he returned a handsome figure. Then the next bunch of runners arrived in, with a story of having seen another Jap on the track at about the same point. Private Keith saw this one in a kneeling position apparently taking aim at one of the leading runners. He threw a piece of coral at him and the Jap took to his heels. It is said, very unfairly, that all the contestants made remarkably good time over the last half-mile. While the other events on the day's programme continued, a patrol hastily assembled, but found no trace of the enemy. It would have been interesting to learn the reactions of the Japanese at the sight of the New Zealanders, straining every nerve, running, scrambling, slipping and sliding through the jungle for no apparent reason, in the page 89middle of a hot day. They probably thought it was a manifestation of the perpetual drunkenness attributed to New Zealanders by Tokyo radio.

The scene at Malsi this day was particularly bizarre. On the beach, hundreds of scantily clad New Zealanders and Americans milled about, watching and taking part in the sports events, investing their dollars on the totalisator, with not a gun or other weapon of war in sight. But overhead in tight formation roared squadron upon squadron of American bombers keeping up non-stop attacks on Japanese bases to the north. From the Fauro Islands, just to the right of Shortland, huge billowing columns of smoke and occasional flashes testified to the attentiveness of Allied bombardiers.

With Christmas festivities finished, the battalion settled down again to its normal routine. This consisted of supplying working parties, doing a certain amount of training and patrolling and, perhaps more than anything else, improving camp sites. Roads and tracks periodically washed out by storms, needed constant maintenance. The work of clearing undergrowth from the camp areas could go on indefinitely. Although the threat of air-raids from nearby Jap bases was still real enough to necessitate leaving most of the big trees standing, so as to preserve overhead cover, yet clearing away the lower growth served to let in light and air, and kept the areas dry. Most men had rapidly learnt the native art of plaiting ivory-nut leaf for making walls and roofs of huts, and everyone was encouraged to build huts of this material. They were cooler, and more airy, than the tents which by now were showing signs of wear and mildew, and were in very few instances waterproof. As the men became more expert, ambitious new mess rooms and cookhouses were designed and went into construction. Adequate free issues of toilet requirements, and an occasional ration of beer, helped to improve living conditions. The canteen was operating with limited stocks. We managed to increase the number of showings of films and few members of the battalion failed to see every movie that was screened, regardless of the number of times it had been shown before, and of the weather. Many a night the crowd sat on the coconut logs, peering at the screen, wrapped in their capes, while the rain lashed down and dripped from the brims of their jungle hats.

The greatest immediate threat to the safety of the battalion came from above—from coconuts and branches of towering palms throughout the camp area that were likely to fall and, indeed did fall, with page 90out warning at any time. Men of the division soon learnt never to sit directly under a coconut palm. Several men on the Treasuries were killed by falling trees, usually brought down during storms; our battalion had one man in hospital for a long time as the result of the top of a tree falling across his tent. With the wet season in full swing, rarely a day passed without rain, leaving the atmosphere continuously humid. It was hard to get clothes dry after washing, while mildew seemed to take hold over-night. Fortunately the coral formation soaked off the rain quickly so that, even after the heaviest tropical downpour, normal work could begin again within a few minutes. Fearsome electrical storms were common occurrences. One night lightning struck the Malsi camp area, shearing off the top of one massive palm as if by a giant razor. Hundreds of yards of signal cable were shattered.

In February and March, heavy seas played havoc with the beach at Malsi, sweeping away much of the fine sand that had formerly made it so attractive for swimming. Sometimes the landings at Soanotalu and Luana were unworkable, despite the skill of 'Hank'. In rough weather the barge trip around to Falamai or Stirling was far from pleasant. The beach at Malsi could no longer be used by trucks as a roadway along to the water-point at one end of the beach; bulldozers and the enthusiasm of the pioneer officer, Lieutenant C. E. A. Buller were responsible for a new road being cut on the waterfront, well above high water mark. Storms always had one interesting consequence at Malsi. As frequently as not they resulted in the Malaoini River (which ran out at the southern end of the beach) changing course slightly. At times there would be a fine sand-spit, with easy access to the machine-gun company camped across the river on the southern side; then the sand would disappear, and the Malaoini in sullen flood would sweep straight out to sea, discolouring the bay and cutting off communication with the machine-gunners except by boat.

The Goc, Major-General H. E. Barrowclough, Cb, Dso, Mc, visited the battalion shortly before Christmas, and while he had no definite news to impart, he indicated the type of operation the division could expect to be put into should it be required. For many weeks that followed there were surmises and rumours, but with the passage of time the chances of the division, and the battalion, seeing another operation seemed to become more and more remote. However, in the first week in March a warning was issued that the Japanese page 91were expected to launch a big counter-attack against the American perimeter on Bougainville, and that it might possibly coincide with an attempt to recapture the Treasuries. The threatened assault on Bougainville certainly developed, but apparently the enemy thought twice of trying an invasion of our territory. Bigger news was brewing. On 14 March the 8th Brigade was warned to stand by at 48 hours notice to participate in a large-scale invasion of some Japanese-held islands further north. Preparations were quietly put in train; this would have been a really big show in co-operation with a number of American invasion forces converging from several directions. Then, to the disappointment of many, the whole operation was cancelled. A spectacular example of the constant pressure being exerted against the enemy was provided one night when, from Malsi beach, we watched an American naval force shelling the Faisi area, in the Shortlands. Tracer shells and bullets, viewed from a distance, seem to pursue a singularly lazy course across the sky, though most people are aware of the curious bend that the projectile appears to take.

But the Japs were not inactive all this time. They still managed to keep some of their airfields operative and we became very accustomed to enemy bombers droning overhead. Occasionally they did some damage to the airfield on Stirling, and a few casualties were sustained by units who perforce had to live on that island. No bombs ever dropped in the 34th's area, though we received our reasonable share of falling shrapnel. One period of intense enemy air activity was before Christmas, in the three weeks between 17 November and 7 December. During this time, there were 96 air raid alerts, and the anti-aircraft guns went into action 26 times. Figures taken from the beginning of the Treasury action right through to the end of February (125 days) show that we had 268 air alerts, with enemy planes closing to within range of the guns on 56 occasions. So Treasury was far from peaceful. One memorable night was the 12 January when a terrific anti-aircraft barrage was put up to fight off 20 enemy planes that attacked Stirling in three waves. Tens of thousands of rounds were flung into the air that night, making a fantastic picture.

Not too much stress was laid on training while in the Treasuries. It was appreciated that all that was required was to keep the troops in good physical condition, while maintaining familiarity with their weapons. Weapon training therefore continued, with range practices, page 92while a certain amount of cross-country work, mostly following the trails, sufficed to keep men fit. An interesting experiment, though hardly popular, was the digging of a perimeter for half a battalion, on the lines of a talk from the Goc. Once below the few inches of top-soil, the men found themselves digging into coral, to which the shovel and the pick do not take kindly. Then there was the night attack on Luana, defended with much guile by B company. Feature of this operation was the amount of mud with which every one became covered for no one could see a thing in the Stygian darkness; and the gallant escape of Lieutenant Wynyard who, hav ing been captured by B company and incarcerated in a leaf hut, eluded his captors by the simple expedient of charging straight out through the wall.

As the year advanced, much surplus ammunition was expended in live shoots. Particularly generous was the allocation of mortar bombs, which were partly unserviceable. It was thought that the best way of disposing of them was to fire them off. So the mortars enjoyed terrifying the rest of the battalion by placing their 'stovepipes' on the beach, pointing out to sea, dropping the bombs down the barrel, and seeing what would happen. One bomb would cough apologetically, pop out of the barrel and land a few feet away on the beach, while the audience scattered. Others would drop down the barrel, lie dormant for a second or two, and then, when someone was about to look to see what had happened, would leap out with a mighty roar and travel far out to sea. A smoke bomb heaved itself just as far as the end of the barrel, where it hung out forlornly, as if deciding that it might as well start smoking now. Others would go off magnificently, landing 800 yards away from the floating target, at which the mortars would sagely remark that they were bent on obtaining a 'long bracket'.

From the beginning of the year, a suggestion had been afoot that some practical tribute should be paid to the memory of those men of the battalion who had been killed in action or had died of wounds. The commanding officer formed a committee, representative of all ranks in the battalion, and plans were laid for establishing a war dependants fund, it being the intention that the fund should ultimately be divided between the dependants of the men whose lives had been lost. It was announced that 5,000 dollars was to be the aim. Individual contributions were at first obtained (this alone bringing in 1,000 dollars) and companies were invited to stage car- page break

The second waves lands at Falamai. Beached in the background is an LCI. Right: Foxholes in the evening and, below, enemy mortars and mountain guns shelling Falamai village

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Patrols in camouflaged jungle suits melted into their surroundings as the artist has indicated above so realistically. On the right natives are arranging the frond of the sago palm for hut roofing. On the opposite page is a familiar morning scene on Ma1si beach after the landing

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Cruciform fox-holes were dug in the coral at Malsi and covered with pup tents in an attempt to keep out the torrential rain which made the nights dismal

page 93nivals, run race meetings, and card evenings to augment the fund. A man who won 100 dollars in a sweepstake immediately handed back half his winnings for the fund, some artillerymen who had been merely camping with the battalion took up a collection back in their own unit which produced over 60 dollars. Soanotalu ran a race meeting, and a gala day was held at the 'Brooks Estate', Luana, with very profitable results.

Biggest event of all, however, was the benefit gala at Malsi, lasting two days. The row of side-shows reminded visitors of a scene from a New Zealand show day. The gaming laws were flouted right and left as various money-making devices practised their trade, some as honest-to-goodness a gamble as one could get, others requiring skill. Water-polo and wood-chopping contests, race meetings with the dummy horses that move so many spaces according to the throw of dice, raffles, totalisator attendants calling the odds, and, Between the excitement, the divisional band playing selections with its usual artistry. Visitors came from far and near, most of them returning sadder and wiser, but all declaring that they had had a grand time. The financial results exceeded expectations. One sideshow alone realised over 2000 dollars. When all the last contributions came in, the total of the fund stood at no less than 5,400 dollars—a really remarkable achievement on the part of all those who worked so hard. This fund was finally equally divided between the dependants of the five men whom we lost in action.

Great success attended the formation of a handicrafts club, under the guidance of Lieutenant Buller. For many men in the battalion, the opportunity of turning their leisure hours into fascinating and profitable hobbies came as a welcome variation from normal camp life. Lieutenant Buller was an expert and soon the fever for whittling and carving spread to all the surrounding camps. At Luana, Lieutenant S. W. Smith ably organised the work. A special hut was erected at Malsi—certainly the best in the camp—workbenches were installed; in one end went stray pieces of metal and wood, out came perfectly finished ornaments, ashtrays, bowls, inlaid knives, model aeroplanes, beads—a host of articles, to be taken home to friends and families, or sold to souvenir-hungry Americans. Some of the work produced was astounding, bearing in mind the limited tools available and the paucity of material. Several exhibitions were held in the hut (at which Lieutenant Buller's collection of snakes was one curious exhibit) and, in the brigade arts and crafts page 94exhibition at Falamai, the battalion's entries secured a number of leading prizes.

The Aews (Army Education and Welfare Service) also provided an admirable outlet for men's spare time activities. Study courses in petrol engines, electricity, accountancy, science, farm-book-keeping, and many other subjects, filled in leisure hours, and at one stage, nearly 30 per cent of the battalion were enrolled in the AEWS classes. Captain D. B. Cameron and Lance-Sergeant R. A. Myers were the leaders in the running of a Young Farmer's Club, which held meetings regularly to discuss matters of interest to men on the land, and was very successful. Another bright organisation, which unfortunately did not survive more than its inaugural meeting, was the Easter Brides Club, otherwise known as the band of brother bridegrooms, membership of which was confined to such men as hoped to take the fatal plunge into matrimony at the following Easter. Lectures were scheduled from a number of alleged experts in marital matters, including an historical review by a learned scholar on 'Famous First Night's.

The more ambitious of wood-carvers and whittlers turned their talents to boat-building. With few tools and only such materials as could be acquired from the jungle or from junk heaps, some fine types of small yachts came into being. The framework was usually of ripped down dunnage, with a skin of old tentage stretched over it. Sails were provided from the remains of air force drogue targets, sometimes from parachutes. Ingenuity and improvisation had full rein. So many of these craft were eventually launched that several yacht races, and regattas, were held. What the Japanese, watching from their look-out tower on Shortlands, thought of it all we cannot imagine.

In April 1944 there appeared the writing on the wall. The Pacific Force was to be called on to supply men for essential industry in New Zealand. Volunteeers were asked for in some half-dozen specific industries. For days there was no other subjects of conversation. Men were told that if they volunteered, they would not be completely released from the army, but would be liable to recall; for many men, tradesmen, essential industry offered a better use of their talents than did this present defence duty in the Pacific. Farmers were needed in New Zealand more than were soldiers in the army. Then there were arguments the other way. Each man had to make his individual choice. With the speed at which big changes page 95so often occur, the manpower draft was selected, and within a few days had embarked for New Caledonia. It comprised six officers and 292 other ranks. It was the beginning of the end of our battalion life. There were rumours that further drafts would be required later, that even some units would combine, that the 34th would move over to Stirling. But the only immediate effect was that B and C companies were withdrawn from Luana and Soano-talu respectively, both coming in to the Malsi area, where B company shared a cookhouse with D, down near the corner of the bay, while C and A companies combined their messing arrangements at the camp 300 yards up the road. Sports programmes were upset; no further promotions of non-commissioned officers were allowed; and a conviction settled upon all that the Third Division was nearing its end.

In April we began our last man-hunt. It was reported that a Japanese coast-watcher was suspected on Mono Island and had to be found. Each battalion was allotted a sector to search, our territory being the Soanotalu-Ulapu district. For three days our patrols combed that area, finding traces of enemy stragglers (some as recent as 24 hours old) but these did not indicate that the enemy was in possession of any equipment. A coast-watcher would be expected to have at least a radio. So when these searches failed, a direction-finding detachment from an American unit was brought up from Guadalcanal. One set was installed at Malsi, the other at Soanotalu. Within a few hours, a radio contact was made, not very clearly, but it was possible that an enemy radio set was at a certain point in the Soanotalu district. We had patrols there speedily but there was no indication whatsoever of enemy occupation. The DF (direction finding) set went back to work. On 16 May they reported a definite contact on the coast line south of Luana. Again we searched, again unsuccessfully. More contacts were made in the same area, the cross-bearings showing the position of the enemy transmitter to be a few hundred yards off-shore. The truth was realised; this was no coast-watcher; it was an enemy submarine. Just a few days, after we had left the Treasuries, the sub was sighted and sunk.

The end came quickly. American coloured troops suddenly arrived at Malsi, took over our positions and gave us an extraordinary concert of close harmony and strange patter. Packing had been done days before; much equipment had already been shipped back to New Caledonia. On 19 May, a convoy of barges pulled in to Malsi page 96beach, took us aboard, and by nightfall we had embarked in Blanche Harbour on the Mormachawk and were sailing out through the western entrance, bound of Noumea. After eight months in the Solomon Islands, we were glad to be heading towards home.