page 33

Chapter Five
Pay Crops

Conceived in Wellington of an uneasy mating between Army and Treasury, born in Fiji, raised to lusty manhood in New Caledonia and condemned to premature death in New Zealand; such in short is the history of the New Zealand Army Pay Corps in the Pacific. But what of the men who served during her brief span of life? We were the flesh that covered the bare bones of establishment; who lived, worked, played, and together formed a tight and efficient little body, without whose aid the Third Division could never have functioned. There were not many of us, a bare fifty odd at full strength, and nothing glamorous in the role assigned. We fought no battle, killed no Japs, and gained no honours or distinctions. Many of us were no longer young and few completely fit, yet we have no cause to regret the part we played, and are proud to have served in a manner best fitted to our capabilities. Let us turn back the clock to January 1943 and in memory speed over the ocean to the little village of Bourail, dreaming in decayed isolation under the hot New Caledonian sun. The flamboyant trees flame with beauty; except for the marauding mosquito all nature nods; but across the street in the hotel de ville the ancient floors tremble to the tramp of feet, and the worm-eaten rafters lift to the sound of many voices. For here the Pay Corps is at work, cheek by cheek with records, DAG and the local notary. Admittedly conditions are crowded. The majority of us have overflowed to the verandah where we drip perspiration over pay cards, swipe wildly at hornets, or make a dash for the interior when a sudden shower cascades through the rusted roof. We are only about thirty strong at this time, with Major McGowan in charge as paymaster. Major McGowan page 34has been in Pay for a considerable time, for when 'B' Force sailed for Suva in 1940 he was there with a small staff. Known to his associates as 'Shaggy' the then Lieutenant McGowan was a man of small stature but an infinite capacity for hard work, and quickly placed the infant corps on a sound and workable basis. Although never one to suffer fools gladly, 'Shaggy' was regarded with esteem and pride by his staff and seldom hesitated to give battle with higher authority on their behalf. Now, with the rank of major, the financial responsibility of the Third NZ Division rested on his slim shoulders. With the paymaster is his second-in-command, Captain Galbraith. Our remaining officers have recently been established as field cashiers; Mervyn Moore is at 14th Brigade, Ralph Wallis with 8th Brigade, and Maurice O'Connor is in Nouméa. Good fellows, these one-pippers, although it must be admitted that we have no very great regard for rank and at social gatherings Christian names are well in evidence. Nevertheless, discipline is well maintained and relations generally all that could be desired. Although all the world appears to sleep, the pay corps is extremely busy, for we have been overseas but a few weeks and there is much to be done— allotments and paybooks to be checked, rolls to be posted and routine orders to be entered. Fortunately most of us have had previous experience in pay, for the original Fiji staff was augmented from NMD and SMD when the Third Division was formed. Those last hectic weeks in New Zealand, when we constantly worked into the small hours of the morning, are still a bitter memory, and we hope that active service will at least be less active in this respect. Soon the clock will indicate 4.30 pm, which means a dip in the stream for some and a march back to camp for the rest, an unsympathetic authority having decided that gentle strolling is unsoldierly. Dark, bespectacled Sergeant-Major Stevens takes the parade as it swings in threes up the hill past the memorial cross, and down by the cheese factory to Bourail Camp. There is nothing very impressive here, just a huddle of tents on the hillside, bure mess room, and a typical Kiwi cookhouse of wood and scrap iron. No electric lighting, even candles are in short supply, and as night falls with disconcerting suddenness there is nothing to do but walk once more to the darkened village, sweat out a cup of tea in the pint-sized YMCA and go to bed.

page 35

Several weeks pass, and about the middle of February we find ourselves at Racecourse Camp in Téné Valley, some six miles out of town. The long disused course can still be seen beneath a covering mantle of guava scrub, and nearby we erect the Base Pay Office, four large IPP tents which serve until the promised prefabricated building arrives from New Zealand. Here we settle down to a routine which is undisturbed for the remainder of our stay in the Pacific. Some are fortunate enough to be assigned duty with field pay offices, or in Nouméa; others will later journey to the forward area, but for the majority the steep brown hills close in for 18 months or more. Racecourse camp in these early days is no health resort, and as February gives place to March and the annual rains pour down it becomes a vast sea of mud, the dappled green grey tents standing like islands of refuge in an ocean of discomfort. Racecourse, which is headquarters of Base Reception Depot, shelters an odd assortment of base units, including pay, records, stationery, and half a dozen others. We thus have to defer to the camp commandant as well as our own officers and it speaks well for the tact and forbearance of all concerned that although serving two masters, we neither love one nor hate the other. While racecourse can never be termed a model camp, and for many months lacks even the barest amenities, it has the virtue of being easy and tolerant. Most of the occupants belong to specialist units and their job absorbs the greater part of their time. Nevertheless we are still soldiers, and as such are concerned with those trappings so dear to the military mind. Rifle inspections are held with monotonous regularity, as are spots of 'bull ring,' weapon training and afternoons at the range, from which we presently emerge, filthy, and without a dry stitch to our bodies. It is, however, in the pay office, that our real duty lies. The function of an APC is that of financial father to the force and it matters little if our temporary home be Tamavua, Papakura, Nouméa, Bourail, Téné Valley, or Guadalcanal. While the average army unit cuts a cross section of industrial strata, pay staff are drawn largely from men with clerical training, and some of humble rank hold high qualifications. At one period, no fewer than half our number are bank clerks, the balance being divided among civil service, insurance, and commerce. It is probably no more than a coincidence that the chief paymaster, a WO1 and a WO2 all hail from the Bank of New Zealand, and that no page 36 bank officer other than very late reinforcements, holds rank lower than sergeant. Chief administrative NCO in the pay office is Harold Stevens, later commissioned as field cashier. Succeeding Ralph Wallis as warrant-officer, first class, in October 1942, it was he who guided the staff through long hours of overtime and, at the risk of unpopularity, demanded much but gave more himself. That once commissioned his work was more limited, and perhaps less useful, bears no reflecton other than the well-known fact that senior NCOs carry a greater weight of responsibility than junior officers. Warrant-Officer Les Watson, also commissioned a few weeks later had, as accountant, been in charge of 'imprest' since our Fiji days, and will in due course go to Nouméa as field paymaster. His work, and rank, are taken over by Jack Salisbury, young in years, but completely capable. Chief ledger clerk, rotund and genial Jack Beauchamp rises to warrant-officer and holds that rank until his return to New Zealand in April 1944. It is in May 1943 that our new establishment is finally approved and, with an increase in staff, promotions come thick and fast. A few are heartily approved, many hotly debated, and some of those destined to remain sergeants to the bitter end are later found the most competent and useful. But despite a few misfits, we have a good team and one that works loyally and well, and it is no truism to state that if the men are fortunate in having good officers, the officers are doubly fortunate in possessing a good staff.

The largest section of Base Pay, and one that expands rapidly as reinforcements pour into the island, is 'ledgers.' Training ground for more highly specialised work, ledgers are a most essential part of our organisation. The work, however, is mostly routine, and after six or twelve months the job becomes one of deadly monotony. Those men who spend the whole of their Pacific service as ledger clerks in Téné Valley deserve honourable mention for patience and long suffering. It is from this portion of the office that all the juicy pieces of 'cod' originate, where all the hopes, fears, and grievances have birth, and the lost causes find champion. At the time of the Green Island landing we have built up to nearly twenty thousand ledger cards, and these are set up in alphabetical sequence, a sub-section of two men handling roughly fifteen hundred cards. It is their duty to post and check acquittance rolls and schedules of kit deficiences, establish a soldier's credit and generally keep his account in good order. They page 37also help check paybooks when a rush of business necessitates. Closely allied to ledgers are routine orders, all those detailed little entries that appear daily telling of promotions, reversions, punishments and the like which have an effect for good or ill on a soldier's pay account. In order that nothing is left to chance, all entries from routine orders are handed to audit for a final check, and the placing of the little green tick of approval. Audit, although a separate unit and probably the smallest in the force, consisting of two officers and one batman, works hand in hand with pay and puts the seal of efficiency on our efforts. It is the overseas representative of the Audit Office, carefully watching the interests of the New Zealand taxpayer. The two audit officers. Major Ward, quiet and thorough, and Lieutenant Cartner, not so quiet but just as thorough, are the terror of slipshod workers but otherwise popular with all ranks.

When in August 1943 the long promised office building finally takes shape and the IPP tents are folded to be seen no more the staff are at last housed and protected from wind and weather. A bure set on the hill contains ledgers and allied sections, while the main building shelters the paymaster, auditors, imprest, cashier, and a few others. The change-over also sees the last of picket, the pay-clerk's nightmare, and the introduction of a weekly duty roster to take it's place. How we hated picket. Long hours in the darkened tents guarding the precious safe, and fighting an ever losing battle against mosquitoes, heat, and utter boredom, it will probably remain our most unpleasant memory of sunny Necal.

One of the first duties of a pay office is the payment of troops, and during our period of service in the Pacific the division is paid in American dollars at the rate of four to the New Zealand pound. This currency is obtained from the American finance office in Nouméa, but the procedure is rather more complicated than that involved in cashing a cheque. Having first ascertained his requirements for any pay period, the paymaster sends a requisition for cash to the finance office. This amount is advised by cable to Washington, and the American authorities then contact their representative in Wellington who makes the necessary arrangements with New Zealand Treasury. To complete the circle, American finance in Nouméa is authorised to make payment and the paymaster takes the long dusty journey to Nouméa to uplift the money. While our relations with American finance have page 38always been the best, it has so happened that owing to a slight unavoidable hitch on one or two occasions the authority has not arrived by the required date. Our French hosts have readily come to the rescue and the Banque d'Indo Chine has loaned the money, without interest, until repayment. When the long last balance sheet is drawn up at the close of our Pacific service, it is revealed that between November 1942 and October 1944 nearly seven million dollars were drawn in pay by the division. Nearly 80 years ago the British War Office remarked that 'the soldier is not a saving animal,' but the fact that Base Pay Office sent home over two and a half million dollars, or approximately one-third of all pay drawn, as remittances from troops shows how things have altered in the intervening years. That the amount received as remittances from New Zealand was less than one per cent of that returned, proves among other things, the lack of opportunity for spending in our Pacific paradise.

Owing to lack of facilities in the South West Pacific, the Pay Office also acts as general banker to the force and handles, among-others, such divers accounts as regimental and patriotic funds, insurance and compensation, sales of clothing and equipment, and payment of native labour. On occasion it also pays not only the Royal New Zealand Navy and Air Force, but British and Dominion army personnel visiting the area. In all, our receipts and expenditure total well over 16,000,000 dollars.

During the long months between our first embarkation to Fiji and our farewell to Necal, there have been many staff changes, and when we left New Zealand for the second time in the last days of 1942 many of the original staff were missing. Lieutenant Gordon and party had sailed for Norfolk and others were left behind for medical reasons. At the time the division returns home on furlough in July 1944 only three of our Fiji pay veterans remain, Lieutenant Watson, Warrant-Officer Turner and Sergeant Windsor. Two of our officers are returned home for medical reasons in 1943, Lieutenant O'Connor and Major McGowan. Maurrie O'Connor had served in the Middle East and Fiji and was acting paymaster in Necal until the arrival of the main body. Major McGowan, never robust, had not spared himself in the service of the Pay Corps and those that follow owe much to his knowledge and zeal. He is succeeded in office by Major Galbraith who is appointed chief paymaster and financial adviser with the page 39rank of lieutenant-colonel. Lieutenant Moore becomes base paymaster and is promoted to captain.

Although the Base Pay Office is our largest organisation, it is by no means the complete corps. Soon after our arrival in Necal a field cashiers office was set up at both 8th and 14th Brigades, and these operate until the divisional troops move to the forward area. The original Base Pay Office in Nouméa moves from Rue D'Alma to the transit camp and continues as a field pay office. Service in Nouméa is always popular, and a system is worked whereby senior sergeants do service of two months or more, giving them a slight break from the monotony of Téné Valley. Shabby little Nouméa, though no tourist town, seems excitingly metropolitan after long months in the niaouli and even work takes on the aspect of a holiday. When the final move to New Zealand approaches, life is not so easy and the midnight oil burns again, but for most of us Nouméa holds all the delights of a tropical Babylon.

It is in October 1943 that HQ Pay sets up as a separate organisation and moves into the village of Bourail where it houses the chief paymaster and looks after administration, maintains the imprest, receivers, and regimental funds accounts. During the early winter of the same year it becomes apparent that a move is in the air and that the division is to have the long awaited chance for action. Speculation runs riot as to who will be the first in pay to journey north, but it is not until the eve of departure that the names are revealed. Ralph Wallis is in charge as paymaster, and with him go Staff-Sergeant Barlow, Sergeants Little and Willis and Private Hunter. Many are frankly envious, a few doubtless relieved, but our best wishes go with them as they journey forward.

The island of Guadalcanal at this time is still subject to enemy attack, and a few nights after arrival on 3 September the pay staff experience their first air raid. Raids continue for about ten nights, coincident with the moon, and then cease until the following month when they are repeated for about a week, after which they cease altogether. But although conditions may have become more peaceful, for a long time they remain primitive and during the first weeks rations are woefully meagre. Two large cases of tinned goods selected by the staff at base are forwarded from New Caledonia, but one never reaches its destination and the page 40other is dumped on an open beach and swept away by the tide before it can be retrieved. Despite these drawbacks, life in advanced pay has its moments and certainly holds variety, so sadly lacking in New Caledonia. It is almost certain that members of the NZAPC see far more of the Pacific than those of any other unit for they not only travel to every island where New Zealand troops are fighting but to many adjacent areas held by allied forces. Journeys made by both sea and air are not without thrills and on several occasions there are narrow escapes from injury. Every visit to Treasury Islands coincides with severe air raids and Ralph Wallis paints a graphic picture of diving into a fox-hole clasping the precious pay roll while shrapnel and bomb splinters spatter round. In all, five return trips are made to Vella Lavella, eight to Treasury, and four to Nissan. Each member of the staff has a share in these duties and it is seldom that one or more is not absent from the pay office. While the orginal staff is not relieved, it is augmented from time to time. Sergeants Harcourt and Windsor arrive in November on a short tour of duty to help out in a scheme that gives personnel in the area an opportunity of remitting money home for Christmas. Early In January 1944 the efforts of Sergeant Scott are rewarded by a trip to the forward area, but after three months he is invalided back to New Caledonia. With the occupation of Nissan and the extra work and travelling thrown on Ralph Wallis, the services of another officer become necessary and Harold Stevens is dispatched in February. The extra staff helps relieve the burden on the original stalwarts who by this time have journeyed many thousands of miles by sea and air under extremely trying conditions. In April they are visited by the chief paymaster who is on his way to Nissan where he confers with the general on matters of finance. A month later Harold Stevens takes over the duties of paymaster and shortly after Ralph Wallis returns to New Caledonia.

Back at base we have not been idle but life, thank goodness, is not all work. We have our lighter moments and extract enjoyment from most unpromising situations. In the realm of sport, rugby and cricket have their seasons and we are fortunate in possessing Les Tilley and Don Cleverley, both outstanding players in their respective games. Swimming in the local stream is a constant delight and necessity and for the first few months is the page 41only form of recreation. Later we have movies, with occasional visits from the divisional band, USO and Kiwi concert parties, although in the main we are thrown on our own resources and cards supply the greatest need, bridge, five hundred, crib and poker having their devotees. There are, of course, the parties, convivial evenings at which a certain amount of liquor is consumed and all the old songs, profane and otherwise are sung. Tradition has it that pay clerks are hard drinkers, and a certain liveliness in Fiji days may have prompted the change from the distinctive yellow pugaree to the more anonymous red. Be that as it may, there is never any surplus liquor in Téné Valley, due more to the stringent beer ration than any great teetotal element. However, on very special occasions we manage to lay in large stocks of the necessary and on those nights there are overflow meetings at 'Shag Court,' 'Virgins' Retreat,' 'Mon Desir' or any of those tents which bear quaint names and house several warm, thirsty human occupants. Even the sacred precincts of the pay office has its moments when the whole staff, from colonel to batmen, gathers to toss one over the eight. In years to come some snatch of melody will recall George Lawson singing 'Mountains of Mourne,' Gordon Windsor giving 'Dear little camp in Bourail,' Kennedy Scott rendering 'The soldier and the sailor,' Artie Thompson's elephantine antics over the 'Needle in the haystack,' Reg Reed's strident tenor extolling the Auckland and Britomart Hotels, or Bill Turner's incredible performance with a glass of beer and a set of false teeth known as 'the trick that made him famous.' Other aids, trivial in themselves, help maintain morale. There is the fortnightly sweep run by John Harcourt in which most of us show a dead loss and few a handsome profit. In the early days 'Honest Ted Prisk' catered largely for the sporting section, but he has passed on to what we hope are greener pastures. Then there is Pay Parade, that ego-deflating paper that has the longest run and probably the widest circulation of any unit publication on the island. Produced by Les Barrett, it cocks a snoot at all authority and pokes fun at brigadiers and bombadiers alike. The complete file of Pay Parade gives a more complete, though possibly distorted record of our activities than is possible here and the final number contains many messages of congratulation and goodwill from our own officers and others in Téné Valley.

page 42

Easter 1944, and with it comes the news that dooms the division to a lingering death. Men are required for essential industry and at once the impossible happens. The midnight lights burn again, and with each draft the pace becomes more hectic. Many of our own staff leave to man the industrial front, and the pattern of dissolution is writ large for all to see. In June Ralph Wallis returns from the forward area, and soon advanced pay is just another memory Comes July and furlough helps to swell the tide of returning men. Those of us who remain work even harder until the long dreamed of day when we climb into the truck and set off on the Nouméa road for the last time. 'Goodbye Téné Valley, farewell Racecourse camp.' What hard things we have said of you at times and yet, looking back, it was not so bad. We had our moments, you were a decent crowd, and life could have been a good deal worse. We owe thanks to Major Stowell and Bill Bentley of BRD who worked hard to turn a wilderness into a place of decent habitation, and whose efforts, sometimes unappreciated, were not without reward.

Even after we depart, some still remain and the rear party has quite a job to do. Lieutenant-Colonel Galbraith and staff move at last to Nouméa before returning home, and Téné Valley sees pay no more. But although the bures burn and Kanakas haunt our former home, old memories will never die. There is probably a modicum of truth, after all, in the final verse of Gordon Windsor's song:—

When the trumpet shall sound the all-clear
And the world is no longer at war,
We shall be at a loss, life will lose all its gloss,
When we're bullied and sworn at no more.
We shall sigh for the days that are passed,
Tears of memory will dim every eye,
How our sad hearts will yearn, we will long to return
To our dear little camp in Bourail.