I. 22 July, 1942

'Fiji wasn't half bad, really,' mused Private Hippie, as he sat at the mess table on board the President Coolidge with his friend Private Wims-Turner J. B. Wims-Turner had a smaller brother, K. J. who was on guard at No. 7 hatch this morning, from 10 to 12.

'These places are never so crook when you're leaving them,' replied J. B. 'You forget the dirt they sling at you. Anyway I'm bloody glad to be on my way back to old NZ. The serg. reckons he heard we will get in about 2 o'clock tomorrow.'

Lance Corporal Thynne thought that this being on permanent fatigue in the galley for the whole voyage was a bit thick, even though you got three meals a day. He sat down with the other two. T guess we've just about finished up for this morning,' he said.

Sergeant-Major Boulder, who was in charge of fatigues, passed them and told them to put out the cigarettes, as you couldn't smoke in the mess hall, at least until after the orderly officer had been around. So they told him that he had been around, half an hour ago, at which Sergeant-Major Boulder accepted a cigarette from J. B., sat down carefully, and wondered what it was costing the New Zealand Government to send us back on this luxury ship.

'Well, anyway, they didn't spend much on us when we were there', said Private Hippie darkly.

'I dunno,' said Boulder. 'Do you know what Samambula camp cost?' He looked around, making sure no one would interrupt him. 'B camp, Samambula, cost £25,332,' he announced. He added that he had seen this figure when he had been in the engineers, and it was gospel. Private Wims-Turner thought he must be wrong, because he had been told by a chap who worked in the government that it was over £50,000.

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'Ah,' interjected Boulder. 'That was the cost of A camp. To be exact, it was £53,737.'

Lance-Corporal Thynne said that, as the sergeant-major was so good at figures, they ought to have had him in the Thrift Club. 'What's that?' asked Boulder.

'Well,' said Thynne, 'a few of the jokers in the transport used to run it, back in the Reserve. They used to buy soft drinks and stuff in Suva and sell it in the hut. Off the ice, too. Out of the profits they'd shout themselves trips to Navua and Levuka when they couldn't get weekends off.'

'There ought to have been a camp laundry,' remarked Hippie, apropos of nothing, and turning to Wims-Turner J. B. for support. 'Old Kanje did a good enough job but it ran a joker into money after a while.'

Sergeant-major observed that if Hippie hadn't spent so much money at the wet canteen and on binges in Suva, he could have afforded to have had his laundry done by Kanje. Kanje was a good scout, half the chaps didn't pay him. He was almost as well known as Satan. Private Wims-Turner said that he had never seen Satan at her best, for which he was sorry. Had Hippie ever seen her? Hippie reckoned he hadn't, but Lance-corporal Thynne had, one day, near Tamavua village. She had marched along the road with the whole platoon for about half a mile, till the next ten-minute halt; and then the officer said she would have to clear out as they were near Force Headquarters.

'Now I'll tell you who was a corking girl, one of the best, and a good looker, too,' said the sergeant-major. 'And that was the 4 o'clock girl at Nausori. Wow, what a figure!'

One of them said that his brightest memory of Fiji was of the moon rising over the Rewa river, viewed from old D support, just above the bridge. Only the mossies were a bit crook most times when there was a full moon. Apart from the ruddy mossies, Fiji was a beautiful country.

'Stow it', said Private Hippie, who had had two lots of Cb in the last month. 'What about the old boy who reckoned we ought to go for walks in the bush over the week-end, to get to know the country.' (This last phrase with much sarcasm.)

'That's nothing,' Boulder answered, leaning forward confidentially. 'Did you ever hear of the time he inspected the company with his page 122hat on back to front, and his under-pants showing? Boy, was it hard to keep a straight face?'

Lance-corporal Thynne told the tale of the Yank who had been lost up in the bush, after baling out from a plane. It seemed a bit of a gafu, the way they searched for him. First they sent out one company, then another, then the carriers tried it, and broke two tracks; finally Major Logan met him in the bush at a point where he wasn't expected to be found at all.'

'Why do they reckon you can't call them 'Yanks'?' asked J. B. Wims-Turner, who had cut himself a slice of bread and honey. 'Do you remember that routine order that came out, when we were in Nausori, saying that the Yanks objected to being called Yanks, and that if we did it might cause bad feeling?'

Sergeant-major Boulder remarked that there was a special reason for it, that he'd heard about, and that it had something to do with the Yanks not wanting to take over the island until we had put the defences in order. That's why we had had to work so hard over the last few weeks.

'They reckoned we were nuts, that morning during the Battle of Nandi, when we went tearing past them up near the hospital,' said J. B.

'They were damned right, too', observed the lance-corporal, who had been carrying part of a vickers that morning. 'But we used to have a bit of fun on those alarms, you know. What about the time when we were in that village—I've forgotten its name now—and old Tubby got in a hurt, and when he thought he heard the 2 i/c coming in the door, he tore out straight through the wall, making a hole in it as big as you would expect Tubby to make.'

Boulder looked serious. 'You know,' he said, 'I used to think old Voelcky was pretty right, when he reckoned we might be living the last few weeks of our lives, some of us. We were bloody lucky the Japs didn't come about Christmas time.'

'Wernham was the one to scare hell out of you, though,' said Hippie. 'Cripes, I remember the first day he took over the company, he lined us up, put on a frown and said something about his name being Wernham, and that he was tough, and that when the balloon went up.…'

'You couldn't beat old Pop Toon for making speeches,' interrupted Wims-Turner J. B. 'He used to pour it on thick. What about his "hatchet-faced sun-kissed Anzacs" that he brought out one day?'

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They all agreed that it was funny the mannerisms most of the officers had. Who was it used to say: "Is that not so now?"—oh yes, Lieutenant Dawson. Not a bad bunch the officers, though there' were a few greasy ones. The officers were certainly having a pretty good time on the Coolidge, with that lounge, and the nurses. Still; they supposed, they didn't arrange it that way for themselves, and if the sergeant-major and J. B. and a few others of them had had the arranging to do, it wouldn't have been any different. The meal's were good, weren't they, but this two meals a day racket was a bit tough, except for the fatigues.

Thynne said that when he was working on the vickers pits near the cemetery, he used to see the prisoners picking up the food scraps that the gunners had left over from their lunch. Miserable looking crowd. Reminded him of the first M & V that was issued. Old Owen Hannafin was never so popular as the morning he turned on M & V instead of Mother McGoo.

'Talking of popularity,' J. B. Wims-Turner remarked, T bet we aren't too popular over those three cheers at Suva wharf.'

'Well, what the hell did they expect' asked Hippie. 'We didn't know the old boy'.

'Shut up, here's someone coming,' Boulder called suddenly.

The orderly officer came in, along with the ship's executive officer, and they both wanted to know why Lance-corporal Thynne was smoking in the mess hall before inspection. Sergeant-major Boulder explained that he had just asked Thynne the same question himself.'

II. 21 September 1943

The major had just said that it would be a good idea if they stayed near their fox-holes, for he hadn't heard any bombs dropped over towards Henderson Field (though we had) and that the bombers might jettison their loads on their way back, perhaps over our camp. It was about half an hour since the siren went. The sergeant-major put on some more mosquito repellant, and then called out loudly: 'Everyone got their repellant on?' As there was no reply he tried to light a cigarette. Corporal Denvers, of another company, shouted to him to put that light out, so Sergeant-major Boulder decided go and see how company headquarters were doing. They were sitting on the edge of their fox-holes, watching the searclv lights down near the airfield. You could hear the bombers buzzing page 124around somewhere. The batman hadn't got any socks on, so Boulder made him go and get some. He found he hadn't got any, so he wore gaiters instead and sandshoes.

Private Wims-Turner J. B. (whose brother K. J. was on a working party down at the ammo, dump) thought that he must be going a bit yellow now, with the atebrin he had taken since they left Cally. He worked it out at about 20 tablets. Hippie, who had been a lance-corporal for a while until he reverted, on the suggestion of the CO, disagreed, and pointed out that it was only when they boarded the President Hayes in Noumea that they started taking atebrin, and then only half a tablet a day. However, Wims-Turner declared he must be twice as yellow as anyone else, for he had thought it was a whole tablet a day, and he had got his supplies straight from the Q.

The batman wondered if 3 Div jokers were still debarred from travelling on the trains in New Zealand. 'It was a fact,' he said. 'It was definitely in orders that we couldn't. The sergeant-major asserted that there must have been a reason for it. Private Hippie darkly pointed out that when they wanted to get us out of the country, they found trains soon enough.

Boulder thought that the less said the better about that train journey to Wellington before going to Tonga. 'I daresay Hilldene will never see a more impressive parade, ha ha'. Hippie, who had reverted as a result of getting drunk that day in Papakura, reckoned that fully 50 per cent of the battalion didn't know whether they were coming or going. 'What about headquarters company?' he asked. 'Old Phil was swaying in the breeze, if anyone was.' The sergeant-major denied this.

With a soft whistle, a piece of flak came out of the sky and dropped a few yards away. The batman clamped his hand over his tin hat and looked up to see if there was any more. Guns were firing a few miles away. 'Be funny if they dropped bombs on their own jokers. They say there are several hundred still back in the bush', observed Thynne. 'Two got into an American camp the other night, and pinched some rations, so I was told.'

'Can't go to sleep on piquet here,' remarked the sergeant-major. 'Not like Tonga. If you knew the stir up they got down at Kolonga and Manuka when the American big-wig found the lads asleep on the posts; there was one hell of a shindy.' The batman considered that the lads were not much asleep when they mounted the guard page 125 over the beer-garden at Tongatabu airport. 'It was just a shame what went on there!' he said.

'But, you know,' insisted Thynne, 'a Jap could easily get into this camp. There's nothing to stop him, and he could keep a watch out for the piquet. I heard that in Cally two Japs were found one day in a Yank chow-line, queueing up for mess. And what about the one at Thio?'

The batman explained that he had heard the adj. say that another spy had been seen down near Bourake; brigade sent down a few men to round him up, and it turned out to be a chap from one of our artillery batteries. The French were excitable people. 'Wish I'd learnt French,' said Wims-Turner. 'Gerry Melvin and a few of them who took it up after they arrived in Cally were getting on pretty well when we left. A fellow might have had a chance with that sheila up at the mines.'

Boulder reminded J. B. Wims-Turner that he had got into enough difficulties in Tonga, what with hula-hulas and the invitation to the wedding at Fua-amotu. J. B. retorted that, anyway, little Morning Star was about the best dancer he had ever danced with (and so she was, added Thynne) and much the same could be said for Maria, Medium Slink and a few others. Just because a fellow said 'maloelele' to a native girl, he shouldn't be criticised for attempting to be friendly with the local people.

Private Hippie raised an eyebrow and asked: 'Why didn't any of the locals come to the ball in Bouloupari? Answer me that. What I reckon is that some of the officers stopped it; some who were over at Thio, and couldn't be there.' The batman didn't think so, for every officer he heard talking, (and he heard most) was in favour of the ball, but they were leaving it to the committee in Bouloupari to fix up. The lance-corporal suggested that either the officers, or possibly base headquarters, were responsible.

In the dark, you couldn't quite see how the sergeant-major was looking, but it is thought that he looked stern, and deep. He remarked, quietly—'There was more to it than meets the eye'. J. B. Wims-Turner wittily replied that there were certainly no girls there to meet the eye. He had known of at least three girls from Tomo who were supposed to be coming. Private Hippie changed the subject by saying that he once went for a day's leave on the Tomo boat, but as the mechanic couldn't get it to go, he hitch-hiked to Noumea page 126instead, and nearly had a row with an MPO. So he slept it off on the beach at Anse Vata.

A long searchlight wavered across the sky straight above the camp. Coconut trees were picturesquely silhouetted against the dark background, which prompted Boulder to remark that there were more than two million coconut trees in Tonga, and more were growing every year. They agreed that Boulder was always good on figures. So Boulder tried again to light a cigarette, at which Corporal Denvers shouted out to that man to put the light out, or he would have him matted. And there looked as if there might be quite a decent row on the subject, when the sirens all over the place let out their wails; everyone heaved himself to his feet and set off back to bed. For no apparent reason, the major was going around the lines calling out, 'All clear', to each platoon.

III 1 July 1944

There was a smaller crowd than usual in the Bourail Club. At their favourite table in the corner sat Seregant-major Boulder and his friend Sergeant Hippie, who had recently been promoted. Boulder remarked that, on looking through his diary, he found that at the Christmas gala up at Malsi, in the Treasuries, the tote had put through over 5,600 dollars, and that investments in the art union had been so high that there was no less than 1,000 dollars in prize money. Hippie said that Boulder ought to have been an accountant, he was so good at figures. At this moment in came Lance-corporal Thynne, along with the batman, and Private Wims-Turner J. B. (whose brother K. J. was on piquet at the Kiwi Club). They brought up an extra chair and settled down to their tea and cakes.

The sergeant-major went on to say that to be good at figures you had to have an orderly mind, and not fritter away your time on rubbishy books, or French wine, like Wims-Turner did. Now he (the sergeant-major) made a point of keeping in orderly fashion all facts which might prove of benefit or interest to himself and to others in the course of conversation. Thynne suggested that it would be better if he kept the fatigue roster a bit better, and didn't worry so much about the interesting facts. Wims-Tumer pointed out that that it was he, not K. J., who had been promised the job of piquet at the Kiwi Club, and that for the sergeant-major to have forgotten that did not indicate that he had an orderly mind.

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Boulder reminded him that he and Hippie had just come in for a peaceful cup of tea, and that it wouldn't do to have an argument here in front of the WAACs. So when, a few minutes later, the batman wanted to know who in the 34th killed the first Jap, Boulder smiled condescendingly on him, and stated that it was Corporal Johnston, of D company, and that it happened at Soanotalu on 27 October 1943. 'I have here, also,' he added, 'the total New Zealand casualties for the Treasury operation, which I will now read. We lost 40 killed, and had 140 wounded.' Thynne told them of the Jap who offered to surrender, came forward with his hands in the air, and then dropped a grenade at the feet of his captors. He was promptly shot.

A Waac came to clear the table, wearing boots, whereupon Hippie said that at one time in the Treasuries there were only 80 pairs of boots between 120 men, and some men had to stay in bed all day, and take their turn to wear the boots tomorrow. The batman remarked that he always seemed to have plenty of officers' boots to polish. Boulder tartly replied that he ought to be lucky having so little to do, compared with men on fatigues. J. B. Wims-Turner interpolated to say that it wasn't very hard work on piquet at the Kiwi Club, and that it was he, not K. J. who … yes, if Thynne would get it, he'd have more tea.

'Who was the first to land on the Treasuries?' asked Hippie, who had been silent a while over a rock cake.

'Cowan's patrol, of course,' said Thynne, who knew this one.

The sergeant-major paused. 'Strictly speaking,' he said 'yes—it was Cowan's. But taking the main assaulting force, the first New Zealand troops were the 34th Battalion.'

'What about the 29th and 36th at Falamai?' asked the WAAC who had came back and had obviously been listening to propaganda from other units.

'Pish, tush and nonsense', replied Boulder. T have it recorded (and he fished out again his book of interesting facts) that they landed at Falamai at precisely 6.26 am whereas the 34th hit Purple 2 and 3 beaches at 6.25 am—one minute ahead.'

'Therefore,' added Hippie, 'we were fighting the battle for the Treasuries entirely unsupported, for exactly one minute.'

'Precisely,' replied the sergeant-major. 'Nor did we have any of the naval supporting fire, of which no fewer than 1,000 rounds were authorised to be expended in the official operation orders.'

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The Waac, visibly impressed, backed away to confer with the cashier.

'Did you ever hear about that joker at Soanotalu who stood up to catch a bomb that he saw coming towards him?' asked Lance' corporal Thynne. The batman had, and he reckoned the attempt to catch it saved the man's life for it hit his hands, causing it to fall on its side, harmlessly. If it had landed on its nose, it would have exploded.

The story reminded Sergeant Hippie of the morning at Malsi, when the American Cb had a scuffle with a Jap. The other Yanks were awakened by the shouting and, not knowing what was cooking, fired their carbines furiously into the air. This added to the terrifying noise of battle.

Then they talked all together about the Solomon Island natives, and they agreed that they were a very fine people. Men like Wickham, Ilala, Kopane, even old Soreleggie—what a help they had been. Hippie said he met that chap Luoni, of the RNZAF, whom the natives had been looking after for three weeks on the Treasuries before we landed, and who walked into Soanotalu the first day.

'Did you know,' asked Boulder, 'that we gave 51 dollars to the natives out of the profits of our Christmas gala. Captain Bentley the district commissioner, who messed at battalion headquarters, took it on trust on their behalf, to expend for their benefit. I've got that here opposite the duty roster for the OP at Lua Point.'

The batman reckoned he lost 30 dollars at the Christmas race meeting. Hippie, who had had a lot to do with running it, said he had lost more than that in sweat.

So they all went out to watch the second half of the football match against the 29th, and after that Private Wims-Turner J. B. managed to get a ride to the Kiwi Club to see his brother K. J. who was on piquet down there. However, K. J. had gone to Noumea for the day to buy shoes.

Officers' Log Book

The day when…….

…Major H. A. Wernham began a school for officers at Samambula, and later a class in physical training at Mua, for subalterns only.

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…Two 'big-bunger' crackers were set off in proximity (very close proximity) to Second-Lieutenant A. G. Steele, who was in a state of partial nudity in a chair at Bilo.

…Second-Lieutenant N. M. Cotching, who had complained that he never got to know the real Fijian, was invited to spend the weekend at a native village. Arriving by boat, he leapt ashore, and to the first Fijian he espied let out a very hearty and boisterous 'BULA!'. The Fijian, taken aback somewhat, replied, in the best accent that he had learnt at Oxford—'How nice of you to come.'

…Second-Lieutenant A. Alison, in a state of exasperation at trying to piece together a Browning gun at the airfield, Nausori, turned to an innocent looking two-pipper by his side and frankly told him that he didn't know a damned thing about the gun, and what he thought about it was worse. Repercussions were swift and sure when the innocent two-pipper turned out to be a lieutenant-colonel responsible for airdrome defence all over Fiji.

…Lieutenant E. Procter first learnt to sound bugle calls on the conch shell he picked up at Niutoua.

…The doc, the adj, and Sergeant Tom Thornburrow acted as undertakers at the death of the Mayor of Bouloupari.

…Captain P. H. Brooks and Captain D. B. Cameron, being distressed over the fact that neither had as yet shot at a Jap, let alone even seen one, set out for a walk one evening in the jungle near Luana, in the Treasuries, saw two Japs, and shot one each.

…With the Japs pressing hard around Soanotalu, Lieutenant I. McG. Logan dcided to take a stroll in the evening air, and returned later to tell his sergeant that he was sure there were Japs about, for several had run away from him, and that he would have had a shot at them, if he hadn't forgotten to take his pistol with him.

…Two hundred and seventeen officers of the division, accustomed to travelling in the comparative comfort of cabins, returned to New Zealand on the Torrens jam-packed into the for'ard hold, and still said they liked it.

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Songs Of The Islands

Whether it was the climate, or the people, or the work we did, or just south sea island magic, we cannot tell; but it is a fact that in Fiji song-writers gave full vent to their romantic yearnings and committed to paper and to history a number of compositions which enjoyed unending popularity with men who served in the 'Cannibal Islands'. Taken by and large, however, none surpassed in popularity the famous song Isa Lei, orginally written in Fiji for the Fijian people to sing.

Other songs, not peculiar to Fiji, which had their supporters were The Ball of Baltimore, Bless 'em All, Salome, Maori Battalion and You are ray Sunshine. But we remember more particularly those compositions which were written in Fiji by soldiers; with a definite local flavour about most of them; for instance that famous ditty dealing with Suva's bad girls—Standing Alone. It could be sung with enormous pathos and sentiment. Here is it's chorus:—

Goodbye, goodbye you black b——
I know that the joke's been on me;
But when I get back to New Zealand
I'll always remember Fiji.

Then there was The Momi Bay Hotel and For the duration in lovely Fiji, both very pathetic ballads; and, of course, the magnificent troop-ship song, Side, side Monowai's side. The bawdiest of all—despite keen rivalry from The Bali of Baltimore and Salome, was In the street of a thousand … It was unprintable.

Here is Defending the CSR sung to the tune of A wee doch and doris. The sentiments expressed were those of the composer, and not necessarily everyone else, for the CSR (Colonial Sugar Refining Company Ltd) did a great deal for the troops in Fiji toward their comfort and welfare.

We are Peter Fraser's soldiers
New Zealand's infantry
We'd fight for King and country
But they sent us to Fiji;
They're fighting on in Libya,
It's safer here by far,
So to hell with King and country
We'll Defend the Csr.

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There's flies and ants and toads here
And bugs that bite by night
You wouldn't think to see us
That we'd joined up to fight;
The worker stands behind us
And buys beer by the jar
With the money he is making
While We Save The Csr.

We're not so good with rifles
We've never fired a shot
But with spades and picks and shovels
The boys are getting hot;
Our ammos pretty old
And won't come up to par
But there's boxes full of leadheads
To Defend The Csr.

So while this war is raging

We'll sit here safe and sound
So the mill-wheels of Luatoka
May keep turning round;
And when this war is over
In every hotel bar
You'll hear us tell the story
How We Saved The Csr.

Finally, what might be called a tabloid history of Fiji is told in The Army in Fiji—the best known song of them all, swung to the hill-billy tune of The Martins and McCoys. Here it is:—

Now gather round I'll tell you all a story
Of an army in the days of forty-one,
While their comrades overseas
Fought and killed their enemies
They just waited while the battles were all won;
Oh, that army in Fiji, they were brave as brave can be
And they laboured with their shovels all day long
But then they didn't Know
That the savage yellow foe
Was advancing on them many millions strong.

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So each day they polished up their web and rifles
And they did their drill with great efficiency
Though they had no ammunition
They were chock full of ambition
As they waited in their camps beside the sea;
Oh, that army in Fiji they were brave as brave could be
As they dug their weapon pits down by the sea
And though the water filled 'em
Just as quick, as they could build 'em
'Twas a comfort for the major and Oc

Though their rifles were of 1914 pattern
And their Lewis guns had fought at Waterloo
Though their rounds were mostly misfires
And their Air Force had no Spitfires
They were out to show the world what they could do;
Oh, that army in Fiji they were brave as brave could be
And at last the bugle blew a raid alarm
The Japs they heard were coming
And it set the wires a-humming
With the army here the Japs could do no harm.

The officers they had to have a meeting
Decided things were bad as bad could be
To NZ they sent a cable
'Send as soon as you are able
Ammunition for the army in Fiji';
Oh, that army in Fiji they were brave as brave could be
But alas that brilliant army is no more
For the old New Zealand deadheads
Sent a ton of blooming leadheads
As they heard the army used them once before.

So that army like this little song is ended
But their name will always live in memory
As a brilliant indication of a lack of preparation
That's a byword in New Zealand's infantry.

page break

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The Battle Of Nandi

As told to a special reporter of Spam on 25 December 1943

After the fall of Singapore and consequent Japanese encroachment to the east, it was evident that soon Fiji would be attacked. As weeks went by what was a possibility or a probability became a certainty, so that when news was finally received that Nandi was being bombed, it was received calmly and there were few visible signs of panic, it being night time. Before chronicling the splendid defence of the island, and the subsequent annihilation of the enemy, let us review the history of the battalion and see the reasons for our magnificent fight. First the battalion had had intensive training in jungle warfare, particularly route-marching, rifle drill, and digging and filling holes. Their commanders were men of experience and could erect double apron fences excellently. The troop's rations were chosen for the climate and the fighting fitness of these sunkissed, hatchet-faced Anzacs were everywhere apparent.

When the enemy attacked during the night of March 1942 a deadly fight was waged. Landings were made from Nauva to Mbau and the Japanese held the initial advantage of having a knowledge of what they were doing. At one spot they advanced through Lami to Chinaman's ridge, where of course they were perfectly at home and were dislodged from this stronghold only by an intrepid band who worked themselves into a frenzy with the juice of the malua vine and ousted them with a bayonet charge of several miles. At Suvavou a grand show was put up. One of the posts there actually had a field of fire and scores of the enemy were put out of action. Enemy grenades finally annihilated this post, it having no cover. Still, one can't have everything. One platoon in the early stages made a splendid job of defending the tomb of Isaac Roderigo Fernandez in the cemetery. This covered the approaches to the lunatic asylum, where battalion headquarters were set up. As with this platoon, the battle became split up into isolated fights between small groups and-those able to lose touch with their companies fought brilliantly.

Passchendale was re-enacted in the swamps of Vatawangga. There the enemy in his headlong rushes was forever tripping over sunken gunpits, barbed wire, and sandbags hidden carefully under the mud. In the Bilo area little resistance was put up by the Japs when they saw our soldiers jumping six to twelve feet in the air and those that did put up a fight were soon as dead as dodos. The main page 134battle developed as the invaders, pushing through Nausori from Mbau and totally ignoring the 29th Battalion (maybe they hadn't been told), were engaged by the 34th between the Tamavua Hospital and Sawani. The hospital itself (or near it) was bombed, the cads, sir, the cads, but our gallant men didn't flinch. It was afterwards generally conceded that the 34th took the brunt of the attack but that the enemy was beaten by superior, indeed revolutionary tactics. The decisive engagement was fought before lunch, the Anzacs straining their utmost to reach a decision as siesta time grew near.

An example of our deceptive tactics was the use of 25-pounder artillery as road blocks, some say anti-tank rifles, but the crews had disappeared, quashing that theory. At this time also the infantry was spread in tight bunches immediately behind the guns and hidden among them were the three-inch mortars. Directly behind the infantry were the machine-guns cutting a beaten zone through them, though the sacrifice of men was worth the results.

Div sigs had boldy advanced among the battalion lines in a body and were recruited as stretcher bearers in one instance. Battalion headquarters as they stood on the road watching the traffic put up a splendid fight. The second-in-command did fine work keeping up morale by going from one post to another—in a pig truck. So all day long the battle rolled among the mountains by the tropic sea. Finally the Japs were ousted by our tactics and fled back to their waiting transports, which were being engaged by the battle cruisers Veni, Vidi and Viti.

And so it ended. 'Twas a glorious victory.

Ceremonials And Celebrities
Jottings From An Official Diary

page 136

About Nothing In Particular

Cobbers—You An' Me

I dunno as I've got much to tell yer
There aint much on around 'ere
But I reckoned I'd drop yer a letter
As they say, to wish yer good cheer.

Well I aint much good at this writin
But I just got the thought in my 'ead
That there's much as we've all got in common
If it's jungle, or desert instead.

Now we all is part of the army
An' it's just sort of luck where yer go
I landed this 'ere stinkin jungle
Ton, the desert and Italy's snow.

Well, the point I'm strivin at makin
Is whether we're Two Div or Three
We're Kiwis alike, aint we feller
An cobbers, eh—you an me?

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Remember them days in New Zealand.
(A long time ago it seems now)
When all of us jokers was drillin
Bit strange after pushin a plough.

Well there's much that 'as 'appened since them days
It won't seem the same when we're back
Poor ole Harry was chasin them Zeros
Till he ran into some enemy flak.

An remember me young kid brother
That bloke with the comical smile
I was with 'I am, poor foe, when 'e stopped it
I felt sort of bad for a while.

Well, I guess that's all as I knows of
'Cept I copped one myself t'other day
An I'm writing this note on a troopship
To tell yer me one arm's OK.

It's all in the game ole timer
An whether we're two Div or Three
We're Kiwis alike, aint we feller
An cobbers, eh—you an me?