Chapter Fourteen
how a Battalion ended

Convoys of trucks were awaiting us on the waterfront at Noumea when we arrived there on 23 May. It had been a calm and uneventful voyage, direct from the Treasuries, without passing within sight of land. Somewhere off Guadalcanal, our escort warship had left us and the remainder of the journey south had been on our own. Noumea represented civilisation again. We stared with open curiosity at the French girls that we passed in the street. They were the first white women we had seen in eight months.

Up the niaouli valleys of New Caledonia, past the airfields, now a mere shadow of their former importance, over the Moindou Pass, with its magnificent view, the convoys carried us almost to Bourail—100 miles from Noumea, turning off to deposit us in the base training depot (Btd) area, in the Tene Valley. Here again was the life that went according to pattern and plan—tents laid out in exact rows, bugles and whisles that blew, rivers in which we could wash, but only at fixed hours; and the mess-rooms, storehouses, canteens and recreation buildings looked solid and bare, not jostling for space with lush growth nor hidden beneath the leafiest trees for concealment from enemy planes. This, then, would do for a while, if only we could keep warm. But for the first week we couldn't.

Once up in the Solomons there had been a battalion debate on the subject 'That WAACs are good' and, midst violent controversy, the negative side (composed mostly of very old grade three men) won the day. But now even they changed their views. At the Bourail Club (in our Tene Valley camp) and at the Kiwi Club, (on the Bourail beach) we found New Zealand girls doing a grand job. In the hospitals there were others, we knew, but we did not come in contact with them so often. The club girls earned our respect and page 98gained our pride, for they worked hard, lived under conditions little better than the men in the line, and enjoyed none of the social or recreational facilities that their more fortunate sisters in the Middle East possessed. We hesitate to think what their first impression was of these dirty, stubbly, jungle-suited ruffians that suddenly descended on Btd. A New Zealand soldier in his full regalia of green jungle suit and jungle hat, both ill-fitting, and the grime of a sea voyage still on him certainly looks a tough customer.

The whole brigade fed from the one cook-house at Btd, involving huge fatigue parties for the battalion on duty, and mess queues that extended for 100 yards and more. Around the lines there was much necessary work to be done—draining and metalling the roads and paths, building wash-stands, clearing the banks of the rivers so as to provide suitable washing and bathing areas, and building up around the edges of the tents barricades of canvas to keep out the flying dust. It was announced that there would be no military training, save one weekly route march and one parade. The time before return to New Zealand would be spent in organised sport, recreation, leave trips, and entertainment. To this end much preliminary planning brought forth good results. Lecturers from New Zealand were on hand to give talks on a wide variety of subjects, both during the day, and in the evenings; a National Broadcasting Service concert party and repertory party gave many programmes to enthusiastic audiences; recitals by Mr. Henri Penn, the noted pianist, were heard; and sports committees planned out the use of the grounds so as to permit the greatest number of men to take part in all the available games. Leave parties were sent off to spend four days at the Kiwi Club, Bourail beach, where a man could enjoy a great holiday. Up to Houailou, on the east coast of New Caledonia, more groups were sent. And Noumea had its quota too. Towels and shoes seemed the popular thing to buy in Noumea but you had to know the right places, and great was the triumph of any man who discovered some new canteen of post exchange where one could buy a greater number of towels or shoes than anywhere else.

Another draft of men left the battalion on 20 June, bound for essential industry in New Zealand, and it was shortly followed by a special force, known as the army troops special draft, whose task was to dismantle disused camps. To this the battalion contributed 21 men. But, best of all, leave in New Zealand started to materialise, based on the policy that those with longest continuous service overseas page 99should be first home. Having gone to Tongatabu before the main body of NZEF IP left for New Caledonia, our battalion was thus in the highest priority, and we supplied a big proportion of the first leave draft. The men were told that they would receive 40 day's leave in New Zealand, with free travelling warrant, and four day's travelling time. They left btd on 3 July. The second and third leave drafts went home in July also. By the end of the month the battalion was left with only 17 officers and 80 other ranks—and of these over 60 were expecting to be called up for service in freezing works in New Zealand. Everyone had an idea that, after all furlough had been completed, the division would return to New Caledonia to re-organise, and few thought, as these drafts moved out of camp on their way home, that the many old faces were being seen for the last time. Part way through the month all doubts were set at rest for it was definitely stated that the division would not be returning, and all equipment was to be prepared for shipment back to New Zealand. For the men remaining there began the big job of cleaning, sorting and packing all the battalion's stores.

With a few men detached to join the brigade rear party, the remainder of the battalion left Tene Valley on 9 August. The last cup of tea had been drunk at the Bourail Club, the last surfing done at the beach, the final bottle of French wine disposed of, and we watched some poor local farmers picking over the huge junk heaps that had been formed in the final days of clearing up. In a staging camp on the outskirts of Noumea we tarried for several days, until 15 August saw the last of the 34th embark on their return to New Zealand. There was glorious sunshine and smooth water inside the reef, as we moved out from the docks. Outside, the seas were rough and the winds keen, and many a strong man was ill-disposed.

But Auckland, grey and sombre on this winter morning, looked beautiful as we came alongside. It was the 17 August. There was tea and cakes in the wharf sheds, a march through the streets, where the people welcomed us in their genuine but undemonstrative way, and in Papakura Camp we were impressed with the good organisation for sending men off to their homes with the minimum delay.

There is little to add now. While men of the earlier furlough drafts had completed their leave and were back in camp, those in the last draft travelled the country on their rail warrants, or sat at home and watched the papers for news of the future of the Third Division. The news came. The Prime Minister announced the fact page 100(of which most had long been aware) that the country could no longer maintain two overseas divisions, and that accordingly the Third Division would come to an end, its men to be used as rein forcements for the Second Division in the Mediterranean theatre.

Back in the mobile-station camps, we found the identity of all units had now been lost. A soldier was simply infantry, or artillery, or medical. Men were sorted in their respective districts and sent away to the camp nearest their own homes. A small staff from each unit was assembled at Mangere Camp, near Auckland, for the purpose of returning the last of the unit equipment to ordnance. On the afternoon of 20 October 1944, at 5 pm, headquarters of the Third Division ceased to function. That moment also marked the end of the life of the 34th Battalion. There was no ceremony to ac company its passing, no handing-in of colours or of keys. It simply passed into history, leaving behind only the memory of its activities as recorded in books like these, and bequeathing to the men who served in it a spirit of which they all can be justly proud.

Some of the men who carried heavy weapons up the 3,000 feet Dent de St. Vincent during training in New Caledonia. Below: Battalian crews at the brigade sports, a view of 'the Dent' and Captain H. F. Fookes attending Private E. D. Gibson at the Rap

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Unit stores being chained ashore from landing craft on the beach at Guadalcanal. Left and below: Troops embarking and disembarking from transports by net

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The New Zealand and American flags flew side by side over the graves of their fallen countrymen in the village of Palamai. When hostilities ceased the allied dead were removed to central island cemeteries

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Staff-Sergeant D. 0. Hannafin, killed in action

Corporal R. S. Dimery, killed in action

Corporal R. H. Haresnape, killed in action

Private G. W. Hanson, killed in action