I. Pacific Outpost

When a group of four Ordnance Corps men entered a Chinese cafe in Suva, late in November 1940, and sat at a table, it was partly to order crab omelettes and partly to discuss their recent sea' voyage from New Zealand. They also stole approbatory glances at an extraordinarily beautiful Chinese waitress, and agreed enthusiastically that China was a most desirable ally. These men had recently been part of the first two ordnance drafts to leave New Zealand for the Pacific. In bright sunshine on 11 November, immediately after the two minutes' silence at 11 am the armed cruiser Monowai had left Auckland, arriving at Suva at 2.30 pm on the 13th. When, nine days later, the Ranga-tira had also berthed, the two troopships had brought between them, with drafts of other units, the nucleus of the Base Ordnance Depot in Fiji. It is therefore interesting now to look back and recall a few of the earliest men in whom the depot had its origin; those 'on deck' then included the following:—-Lieutenant P. N. Erridge (OC), Warrant-Officer. H. C. Cooper, Staff-Sergeant G. C. Leighton, Sergeant M. W. Dobbs, Corporal J. Thomson, Privates. J. Roughan (who was mentioned in despatches four years later), R. Benge, R. Gibbs, C. G. Rowlatt, A. W.. Buckley, A. Allen, and J. Hartshorne. Privates J. Daley, W. H. W. Pullman, A. S. Daken, L. F. Stewart, F. Vale, and D. Lyons arrived a little later.

If a soldier's best friend is his rifle, his sense of humour ranks almost as highly, and the 'rookie' soon came in for his share of good-natured banter. After the first drafts had become bronzed page 199in tropical uniforms of shorts and open-necked shirts, later arrivals looked, somehow, conspicuously new and pink-kneed. They were therefore humorously referred to as 'white leghorns' as often as possible in their presence, and made to feel they were faintly disgusting in the eyes of all 'old hands,' until they acquired a respectable tan. The shorts then on issue to the earliest drafts were a preposterous looking garment scornfully known as 'long-short-longs,' and as they were quite incapable of letting the sun do its work, they very soon found their way to an Indian tailor's shop for shortening. In these early days before prices soared a sartorially-minded New Zealander could have a shirt and a pair of shorts superbly tailored to measure by Indian tailors for a total outlay of from 12/6 to 15/-.

At Nasese, about a mile from the heart of Suva, amidst the red and black mud churned up by recent camp construction, men of the depot settled in, while down at the palatial new Government buildings they opened up their stores in a basement measuring 40 by 60 feet. It was here that the unit made its first issues comprising equipment for the reserve battalion, later to become the 34th Battalion. Men standing wide-eyed at their tent doorways at Nasese, watching for the first time a tropical downpour, could now appreciate the remarks made in New Zealand by a fat and fatherly sergeant after issuing waterproof capes He had said, 'It rains every day of the rainy season in Fiji, and you're going into it.' A soldier learns much about the countries he visits, and his environment becomes an inseparable part of his regimental history. Thus it is not easily forgotten that from December to March is the wet season in Fiji, and that in the south belt, or Suva side of Viti Levu, the average annual rainfall is 118 inches. Everyone was therefore in high spirits when, in the middle of December the unit left Nasese's mud and mosquitoes and moved into tents in the grounds of the Boys' Grammar School, in the centre of Suva, near the city's swimming baths. Already space beneath the Government buildings' was proving inadequate for the increasing quantities of equipment arriving, and a move was soon made to the ground floor of the old Government buildings, where there was space for sorting and handling the army's needs. The top story of the new depot was occupied by the 1st Battalion of the Fiji Defence Force, who will be remembered for their admirable character and soldierly bearing.

They and the Fijians generally impressed New Zealanders immensely, and were frequently the subject of discussion. In addition to their obvious health and exceptional physique, they possessed marked qualities of loyalty and inherent honesty, and it was observed that they were self-disciplined, carefree, and quickly moved to laughter. Along the sides of every road they appeared in bright red sulus, walking often unashamedly hand in hand beneath the sunlit green palms, and singing as they went.

Stationed in Suva in these early weeks, men of the ordnance depot made the most of the opportunity, while on leave or on army duty, of seeing something of the town. For most of this slice of New Zealand's young men, with horizons hitherto bound by their small country's shores, the capital of 'Little India of the Pacific' had much that was of great interest. Sitting cross-legged in the native market place in 'All Nations Street' (Cumming Street) were Moslem Indians and Hindus, Fijians, Rotumans, Eurasians and turbanned Sikhs. Dogs of every breed walked about lazily in the heat, and to Kiwis on leave from the depot, the bazaar presented a strange kaleidoscope of brown-skinned people and unfamiliar native produce, As Christmas approached, Fiji's white population organised dances and entertainments for the troops. Some from the unit were fortunate enough to receive invitations to these, or to Christmas dinner parties. The majority celebrated, however, with the welcome help of Patriotic parcels, free beer, and perhaps a cake from home.

Living quarters were again changed in January, when the unit moved to Tamavua, which overlooks the harbour, about a mile and a half from Suva-It was while the unit was there, in the third week in February, that a large yellow flag was hoisted in Suva, indicating the approach of a hurricane. On 20 February it had been changed to a black one, a warning to take cover. That day, meteorologists recorded the most destructive hurricane in Fiji since 1910, and ordnance men accustomed to a 15-minute journey from depot to barracks, found it took them an hour and a half to get back to lunch through the wreckage.

Lieutenant S. A. Knight arrived from New Zealand in May 1941 and became ordnance officer when Lieutenant Erridge relinquished his command. Considerable numbers of reinforcements were then arriving. To take care of the increasing calls for ordnance equipment, and to replace several-men bound for the page 201Middle East, the depot now received 12 additional men from New Zealand. Extensive new buildings were erected at Samambula, including a tailoring and textile workers' room, for altering clothing and repairing tents. A well-organised new depot was set up, complete with an armoury and living quarters. The whole of the wide range of arms, field equipment and clothing was then divided into efficiently organised groups and sections, using bins and racks which had been built into the new stores. For the next 12 months, as Japanese aspirations in the South Pacific became a potential threat to New Zealand, the work of ordnance in Fiji assumed an increasing responsibility to the troops stationed at strategic points throughout the island, In those difficult days of heavy shipping losses, and of supply shortages following Britain's lone stand, arms, ammunition and equipment were rushed out to troops as fast as supplies arrived from New Zealand. Men of the depot not only trained as part of the general defence, but toiled and sweated long hours in the sultry heat of the stores, packing, loading up trucks, and despatching thousands of tons of ordnance material to troops who, like themselves, had to be prepared to beat off a possible invasion at any moment. Realisation of the depot's vital role spread from the enthusiasm of its officers to a noticeable rivalry between the various stores sections. Warrant-Officer Leighton, looking comfortably cool beside his own personal electric fan—which was the envy of everyone— directed the accounting staff with Sergeant W. A. Pascoe as chief assistant. Sergeant Dobbs was foreman of stores, with Sergeant A. Daken in charge of A Group, Sergeant J. Roughan directing C Group, and Warrant-Officer G. Adamson controlled E Group, including the armoury local purchasing operations were conducted by Lance-Corporal Beal and Private L. D. Calder. Later, Staff-Sergeant Buckley represented the unit with a sub-depot at Namaka. In the new barracks, the men pooled their cash and bought irons and other amenities. An ice-chest was made, and soon regular deliveries of ice and of Puhman Singh's highly coloured soft drinks helped to combat the fatigue of manhandling the increasing tonnage of heavy equipment in and out of the stores in the tropical heat. To Lieutenant Knight, later to become lieutenant-colonel, and to Lieutenant Reid, subsequently promoted to the rank of major, fell the complex task, during the next three and a half years, of controlling a large depot which was page 202to supply the many heterogeneous items of equipment used by a division in modern warfare.

In retrospect, 1941 presented a mixed scene. It had begun with the new excitement of sight-seeing, with the natural high spirits of new trainees, and with each new draft of arrivals telling the Indian vendors of tortoise-shell bracelets that 'we didn't come over here to be robbed,' (and then being 'robbed' just the same). The year had ended with a background of noises 'offstage '—the ominous crunch of Japanese bombs in Singapore, Hong Kong and Shanghai, and hints of enemy invasion fleets moving menacingly nearer to the South Pacific. By 1942 the work of ordnance had greatly increased, with all the preparations of an augmented force for imminent attack. Into tunnels, made by hard-worked engineers, poured quantities of every kind of ammunition, the handling of which later became the work of a separate ordnance section under Warrant-Officer K. F. T. Allen. In addition to the new sub-depot which distributed supplies at Namaka in the western area, ammunition for western defences was temporarily stored in the nearby pineapple cannery. The augmented B Force became a division in January 1942, and the arrival of Captain M. S. Myers early in the New Year, as deputy assistant director of ordnance services, added to the corps' activities his administrative experience.

The sports grounds of Albert Park, in Suva, and Suva's swimming baths, where the temperature of the water was often 90 degrees after a day in the hot sun, were relaxation centres for the unit's cricket, rugby and soccer players and swimmers. The more the tension of work increased, the greater was the need for recreation. In ordnance camps, as elsewhere in the division, men were thin; many suffered from skin complaints; some had been sent home sick. Heavy lifting work in the stores, long hours in sultry offices, and rush work to meet shipping needs could not be prolonged indefinitely in the constant humidity of Fiji. Suddenly, however, the cheering news was divined from various happenings that an American force was about to arrive and'relieve the division. As the jubilation subsided, the unit began in: July the prodigious job that faces an ordnance depot when a division moves, and working day and night it had taken several weeks when at last embarkation day arrived. As troop-laden trucks moved in convoy through the outskirts of Suva, native girls page 203passed wearing vivid red and yellow flowers in their dark hair. We waved and shouted soti (you're not supposed to) and they greeted the remark with cries of mirth; and waved back with hands held aloft as the convoy passed. On the wharf was a group of tall, powerfully built, bushy-haired Fijians. They were singing in perfect harmony, a little sadly, 'Isa Lei'… It was September 1942, nearly two years after the depot had commenced operations in Fiji and now, on returning to New Zealand, men eagerly planned their leave and gazed from railway carriage windows at orchards in bloom and the lush green countryside in spring. To them it had never looked better.

II. Equipping the Division for Battle.

Priority was given to supplies for two battalions and several attached units about to leave New Zealand, and in October 1942 they sailed, the 36th Battalion for Norfolk Island, and the 34th Battalion to Tonga. While remaining units of the division were still receiving equipment from Trentham, the United States Navy's Crescent City threaded its way through the maze of shipping gathered in Nouméa harbour, in New Caledonia, and from her gangways on 2 November, an advanced party of Base Ordnance Depot went ashore on one of the strangest islands jn the Pacific. On the waterfront the New Zealanders lined up beside their kit bags and waited for transport to Camp Stevens just outside the town. Before them, in the fierce heat of the sun, lay a city of 14,000, with an unbelievable history and one of the most varied populations in the world. Occasional palms and flamboyant trees threw round black shadows, like great ink-spots on the sun-drenched streets below. With sarongs swathed about their small waists, beautiful, petite Javanese women walked gracefully by, barefooted and silent. Wrinkled old popinées, with jet black teeth from chewing betel nut, and giggling young ones in square-necked Mother Hubbard dresses like nightgowns, also passed or stood about in groups, laughing loudly at any little mishap in the street.

On arrival at the transit camp, lunch was followed by a few hours' leave in Nouméa. The Place des Cocotiers, or central park, with its lawns defaced by slit trenches, was full of allied servicemen, the streets swarmed with military traffic, and it was soon evident that Nouméa was a vast base for allied Pacific operations. In contrast with the feverish military activity in the streets, the town, with its faded shutters and trellised verandahs, had an old world appearance, and looked dusty and dry, though some found later that it could also be 'wet,' at a price, and that it was perhaps best not to enquire too analytically into the contents of certain mysteriously labelled bottles, especially a particularly suicidal brandy which had interesting possibilities as a rat poison. Travelling in dusty convoys, some of the ordnance advanced party left almost immediately for Néméara, north of Bourail; others stayed a few days in the Bourail town hall, while lieutenant Reid and Lieutenant McCarthy opened a depot at St. Louis Road in Nouméa to receive stores from ships. By 12 November a further draft of base ordnance men had also landed, and stayed for about page 205two weeks at Dumbea beside a river near the capital. Here, mosquitoes attacked the party in force, carrying out a vigorous pincers movement. A depot was then set up at a point known as DP I, near Nouméa, and the men were established there to receive shipments. The port of Nouméa could no longer cope with all the allied shipping arriving at that time, and shipments were diverted to a new wartime port in the north, at Nepoui. Taking about half of the unit's men with him, Lieutenant Reid and a large convoy carrying tentage and other gear, left for the Nepoui valley. The Route Coloniale was rough and rugged like the wilderness one saw on either side of it, and the occasional dusty, dilapidated French villages, about 30 miles apart, stood out like oases. Arriving late in the evening, the detachment pitched tents in the failing light, and at 11 o'clock that night they found a stream some distance away in which to remove the accumulation of dust.

Using the headlamps of trucks, and working for two months in shifts 24 hours a day, often in mud so thick that everything was bogged down and work had to stop, these men received and stacked, in the open, on a hillside and a flat, thousands of tons of army equipment. The main ordnance camp was to be at Bourail, and most of the men who had remained in Nouméa went north on 23 December to set up the camp there. On Christmas Day they joined the detachment at Nepoui for Christmas dinner. Hams were known to be in existence in a nearby ASC dump, and with a little well-planned strategy, the guard was engaged by aa ordnance representative in an absorbing game of 'two-up' while the necessary hams were quickly spirited away to the ordnance fleshpots. It seemed strange to be celebrating the occasion surrounded by miles and miles of wild, unfamiliar country so far from any vestige of civilisation, but a special tent was erected, tables were set up, and everyone tried to make it look like Christmas.

When the main body under Captain Knight and Lieutenant Lonergan arrived in Bourail early in January 1943 they were able to move straight into tents already erected for them by the advanced party, and the work was begun of clearing the rough hillsides and ridges ready for erecting stores. For the next few months, almost endless convoys of trucks arrived at all hours of the day and night, transferring the vast quantities of stores from page 206Nepoui, some 50 miles away. The issuing of tents and camp supplies from the tarpaulin-covered stacks at the Nepoui dump to a, brigade that had recently arrived in that area, greatly complicated the task of moving. Kanakas were employed to erect native type buildings for use as stores at Bourail, and eventually, after the unit had been eating for a considerable period in the hot sun or rain, time was found to build a mess room. A new establishment of 220 men was authorised in March 1943, and gradually the various sections were built up to approximately this scale. With this number of men recreation could be organised, and when French lads were found playing soccer on a field in the village a team was produced and played several games against them. It was amusing to listen to the mixture of comments in French and English. Cricket matches included contests against an air force team, and 'officers and sergeants' versus The Rest, and two soccer teams and a rugby team also played in the competitions. In the camp a social committee organised evenings, including Calcutta Sweeps. For the first of these, 'acceptances' for a race to be run at Ellerslie were taken from a newspaper just received, tickets were bought, and on the night before the race after the sweep was drawn, an ex-auctioneer in the unit gave the proceedings the lively air of the sale ring as he auctioned the horses, collecting 200 dollars to be divided as prizes. A radio set provided the crowded mess room with the thrills of the running commentary from New Zealand on the event, and the entertainment closed with a short concert of items by the men. The depot operated in six main sections, and officers who directed them at various times, are shown below with the rank then held:— Headquarters: Major S. A. Knight and Major H. McK. Reid; Ammunition: Lieutenant A-W. Buckley and Second-Lieutenant S. J. Harvey; General Stores and Clothing: Captain H. McK. Reid, Lieutenant B. E. Woodhams; Mechanical Transport Section: Lieutenant J. L. Lonergan, Lieutenant K. V. Paul; Return Stores and Salvage: Lieutenant A. W. Buckley, Lieutenant W. A. Pascoe, Lieutenant H. Sarginson. Although enumeration of the above main sections gives some slight conception of the varied range, of supplies that the depot had to maintain for the division, these chapters deal with only the outline of the unit's activities, which, are recounted more fully in the unofficial history of the Ordnance Corps as a whole.

At about this time the Nepoui detachment completed the despatch of stores from that area, and joined the staff of the main depot at Bourail. The ammunition experts remained there, however, and as a side line to much heavy toil reared chickens that had never heard of dehydrated eggs. These unfortunately turned out to be mostly cockerels, found their way into the pot, and added to the reputation of the cook. In March and April 1943 a number of men in all sections became casualties from dengue fever, which is carried by mosquitoes. The depot's motor transport supply section, working in the Bourail gendarmerie building, was the group most affected, having 14 men in hospital, and the section had to carry on with only two men.

Celebrations in honour of Joan of Arc, to which New Zealand troops were invited, were held on 9 May, a gala day for the French people of the village. In the full pageantry of suits of armour and costumes of the period, a cortége of 'knights' mounted on horseback, and children in white, paid homage to the Maid and Saint of French history, represented by a French girl on a white horse, who rode into the square dressed in armour. As the crowds dispersed, some went to dine at the hotel as a change from camp, and there French wine and avis were usually obtainable.

To mark tlie occasion
  We went out to dine.
Remember the laughter,
  French cooking and vine?

Others dined at the restaurant belonging to Albert, reputedly a Belgian. The troops had faithfully taught him most of the more obscene English expressions, and he used them on many embarrassing occasions, to the delight of his tutors who returned regularly to see how his Englais was progressing. On the other hand, some in the unit became sufficiently fluent in French to make friends among the families in the village. Others organised trips to Houailou on the opposite side of the island, which was by far the more interesting coast. Not only were tropical fruits plentiful there, but coffee plantations, immaculate native villages, cultivated fields of cassava (from which tapioca is obtained) and the beautiful palm-fringed shores of the north coast all surpassed anything to be seen in the way of scenery near Bourail.

The division was now preparing for action in the Solomons, and on 26 July the depot was advised that several officers and page 208about half of its personnel were soon to leave for Guadalcanal, to set up an advanced ordnance depot. From there, many from the unit went on with the division during its attacks on Japanese held islands of Vella Lavella, the Treasury Group, and the Green Islands; their experiences do not, however, concern this story, which deals only with the Base Ordnance Depot. Expanding operations in the Pacific had caused a shortage of shipping to New Caledonia from New Zealand, and it was not long before the division was due to leave for the Solomons campaign that many urgently awaited items, budgeted for six months earlier, arrived. These were rushed out to units for packing before they sailed, and long hours were worked in all departments to complete the fitting out of the brigades about to leave. While the division fought and worked in the Solomons during the next ten months, casualty lists and visits to the 4th General Hospital in New Caledonia, to which many of the sick and wounded were evacuated, bore silent evidence of battle experiences and the loss of old comrades in many units. During those months a number of administrative personnel and men of servicing units remained in New Caledonia, and the job at base included maintaining these units, as well as forwarding requirements to the combat areas.

The principal 'high-spots' in the remainder of the depot's service in New Caledonia were a highly successful unit dance held at Bourail, the activities of a swimming and an athletic team, and several evening race meetings, run with cut-out wooden horses (complete with colours) and using dice for the moves along the course. For these meetings race cards were printed announcing horses with some astonishing pedigrees, such as, Hopeful by Homeward from Dengue, Masterpiece by Balance out of Conversion (a reference to a very useful voucher form which provided an 'Escape out of Sight from Catastrophe'), and Remote Control by RQ out of Camp. 'Advertisements' urged joining the AEWS art class: 'Reclining and declining nudes. Even if you can't draw you can look.' Thus the New Zealander's typical ingenuity had come to the rescue, even in entertainment. In. the early months of 1944, the first of the drafts returning for essential industry to New Zealand initiated a flow of small arms and personal equipment into the base ordnance stores, for sorting and reconditioning. Then followed the return of the division from its successful operations in the Solomons. To expedite the refittingpage break

A concrete plant established at Le Clre's farm, was known as the 'squat-pot factory.' Many of the engineers and infantry men learned something about the native methods of thatching-in New Caledonia. A mess hut being covered in the Works Services area

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Everyone passing through Nouméa came to know the transit camp which was established there close beside the town. Below are some of the mess bures in the camp. Above is a watcrcolour sketch of the camp looking from the opposite hill

page 209of the division for its return in the winter to New Zealand, Lieutenant B. E. Woodhams and a depot detachment set up a 'clearing house' at Nouméa, whence were despatched the winter clothing (battle-dress in lieu of tropical drill) to distribution centres. Warrant-Officer G. M. Williams also directed a large detachment at Népoui comprising some 70 men, who worked to segregate the heavy shipments of stores returned from the fighting areas into the categories of 'immediate requirements' and 'stores for re-forwarding to New Zealand.' In three months of excellent organisation and hard work, both teams saved the unit weeks of work and double handling, enabling the depot at base to pack the bulk of its stores for the move to New Zealand.

A ship with a strange cargo berthed at Auckland on 25 September 1944. There were men with sad memories, too. Some of their comrades in arms had been killed 'on the beaches,' just as Churchill had said. Strapped to the sides of bulging kit bags, under which the men staggered ashore, was a queer assortment of articles, ranging from native bows and arrows to Japanese helmets, and inside their kit bags—well, anyway it was not difficult to see that they were headed for furlough and home. After the return from leave, the gradual disintegration of the division affected the unit less than most. Although many had qualified for retirement to civilian life, and others departed shortly afterwards for further service in the Middle East, about 60 men remained at Mangere, near Auckland, where 100,000 tons of army equipment—six months' supplies—were located, after being brought back from the Pacific. They had a long job ahead of them, identifying loose technical parts, tallying and sorting out unserviceable gear, and repacking delicate instruments; but this time they had mechanical hoists, and fine warehouses with concrete floors—no mud, no petrol lamps, no fever, and no chili con carne—and they worked near shores where invasion is no longer contemplated.