IV
Treasury Group Operations

Struggling from landing craft up swaying nets, we embarked on three liners, the Presidents Jackson, Hayes and Adams, and on 4 September, 1943, we set sail from Noumea. Almost three years after its inception 7th NZ Field Ambulance was on its way to participate at last in active operations.

After spending a fairly strenuous week of landing exercises at the New Hebrides we arrived in the roadstead off Lunga Point, Guadalcanal, on 14 September. We disembarked by landing barge and, as soon as personnel were ashore, stores and equipment began to come off, to be unloaded from bucking barges into unit dumps on the beach. As trucks, jeeps and ambulances became available on shore they were pressed into service to carry personnel to their unit areas. By night on this first day hospital tents had been erected on the saddle of a ridge, the surgical unit had its operating theatre ready for use, and a few personnel tents had been pitched on a cleared area below the ridge. Within a few days we were in possession of all our equipment; we had page 28established a camp with a modicum of facilities, and were settling down to the new routine of life in the Solomons. The irksome but necessary anti-malaria precautions were enforced, jungle training in the sweltering heat endured, and our first air raids somewhat eagerly awaited. Within a few nights we had an alert and heard the drone of desynchronised motors as Japanese bombers approached Henderson Field. Fox-holes were forgotten as troops grabbed their steel helmets and sprinted to the top of the ridge to see the fun.

On Guadalcanal, however, we were mainly occupied in making final preparations for our participation in an action against Japanese held territory. Equipment was packed in panniers so that two men could carry them fairly readily, and stores and schedules for our several sections were checked and double checked. Preparations culminated in a two-day training exercise, when a landing from combat landing craft was made on Florida Island under assumed battle conditions.

By the middle of October our stores were moved from the camp to dumps on Kukum Beach, ready for loading on assault craft. On 25 October, 1943, headquarters and A companies, a few ASC and the field surgical unit embarked on LCIs (landing craft, infantry) and LSTs (landing ships, tanks) with the first echelon of the 8th Brigade Group. That night, as we lay at anchor in the roadstead, a cheery voice, unmistakably of New Zealand origin, heralded the passing of one of our minesweepers through the flotilla of LCIs. Somehow this contact with our own Navy seemed a good send off into action.

Embarkation of the remainder of the unit took place at five-day intervals. B company, with one sub-section of 10th Mobile Dental Section attached, came forward in the second wave, our ASC, with representatives from 1st NZ Malaria Control Unit and 6th Field Hygiene Section, who were now attached to the field ambulance, came in the third wave, and the fourth trip brought the remainder of the unit.

By the morning of 26 October, 1943, the convoy of LCIs was on its way to the Treasuries. During the day we passed the Russell Islands and, much later, the islands of the New Georgia Group. Then came darkness and preparations for the morrow. Some time during the night the convoy of LSIs was overtaken, and the faster APDs (assault personnel, destroyers) came up astern. By four o'clock on the morning of 27 October troops page 29were stirring, assembling equipment; and generally making themselves ready for the action ahead. Still the convoy steamed on while the men, huddled below decks, listened for the gunfire from their destroyers which would tell them that their particular section of the war was in progress. Came the dawn and with it the crash of the five-inch guns of the destroyers as they pounded the beaches of Falamai preparatory to the infantry attack. Meanwhile, the LCIs and LSIs ploughed in through the passage to Blanche Harbour. Landings of field ambulance personnel were effected in two places. The LCI carrying headquarters company beached at Stirling, where the jungle reached right down to the water's edge. Fortunately, there was no opposition, so that the landing of men and materiel was uninterrupted. We disembarked quickly and, after dumping our own packs, began unloading the ships. A continuous stream of men passed down the gangways of the LCIs carrying crates, boxes, panniers and water cans, and, staggering over roots, coconuts and vines, placed their loads in the appropriate unit store dumps.

By the time this first load of equipment had been dumped Lieutenant-Colonel Hunter had selected a site for the hospital. Gangs of hot, sweaty men cleared a track of about 150 yards through the tangled undergrowth from the beach to this site and then man-handled the equipment to it. There, within a short space of time, the padre and the sergeant cook, Sergeant Noel Thornton, with the voluble assistance of 'Little Bits'—Private N. A. R. Kennedy—had prepared that essential pre-requisite to any New Zealand undertaking—a cup of tea.

Meanwhile Major Waterworth's surgical unit had landed about a quarter of a mile from our headquarters. As soon as contact was made their surgical equipment was carried through the jungle to the hospital site. Then we set about the erection of the hospital itself, for it was more a field hospital than a main dressing station. For the purpose of camouflage trees and coconut palms were left standing, but the ground, underneath was cleared of all undergrowth and roughly levelled to take stretchers. Before tents became available tarpaulins lashed to the trees served as shelters for the patients. During this first morning a small bulldozer widened and improved the track which we had cut so laboriously from the beach past the hospital. Jeeps, which had been unloaded on Falamai Beach and transhipped to Stirling by LCVP ("landing craft, vehicles and personnel), were then able page 30to Operate between the hospital and beach, carrying further equipment as it became available. By mid-day preparations for the hospital were well advanced. Staff-Sergeant Sam Fullerton, the sole member of the 6th Field Hygiene Section in the first echelon, had spent the morning siting, digging and fitting various essential sanitary arrangements. The hard coral formation made his job a difficult one. Water was the main problem, as the only fresh supply available was what we had brought with us in cans from Guadalcanal. To obtain sufficient for the hospital a well was dug in the coral a few yards from the shore. Water seeping into this hole was filtered through a portable filter which had originally been captured from the Germans in the Western Desert. The treated water, though slightly brackish, carried us through until the establishment of a regular water point on the third day. As a diversion from the work of preparing the hospital we spent some time in digging fox-holes for ourselves. These were good protection from all except the weather, for, when the rains came, they soon filled and their occupation was exceedingly uncomfortable.

From one o'clock in the afternoon casualties began coming in, and by nightfall the hospital was filling, with cases requiring operation waiting in the reception ward- In this ward the resuscitation team, under Captain Pearson and the dispenser, Staff-Sergeant Don Steptoe, had erected an Indian pattern tent on high poles, completely blacked-out so that work could be carried on by night and day. Behind this ward were the two operating theatres. The field surgical unit had ready a well equipped theatre in a large tent fitted for use at night with electric light and black-out sides. Opposite was the field ambulance theatre, which was housed in a small tent without black-out facilities and, accordingly, used only in the daylight hours. Beyond these two theatres were the wards —if rough tarpaulin shelters, with service stretchers as beds, could be so designated.

Conditions on this first day were anything but ideal. Heavy rain, coinciding with the inrush of casualties, soon made the whole area a wilderness of mud. Our surgical staffs were kept busy operating, without a break, until late at night. At dusk pickets had been posted round the camp and hospital, but we all spent the night more or less on guard, for the drone of Japanese bombers overhead, the din of the 25-pounders along the beach pasting the enemy positions on Mono, and, from Mono itself, the page 31intermittent crack of rifle and tommy-gun fire and crash of exploding grenades made sleep quite impossible. Besides, it was our first night under fire and sleep did not seem important.

In the meantime two other landings had been made by sections of the field ambulance—A company at the Falamai Village area and a small party under Captain Foote at Soanatalu, at the north of Mono. This latter landing was entirely unopposed, and no fighting was experienced in this region for the first few days.

The worst of the combat conditions on the first day were experienced by A company at Falamai. Shortly after dawn, about half ah hour behind the infantry, the LCIs and LSTs carrying the company beached near Falamai Point. The bridgehead had not yet been extended over any considerable area, so that the beach was still under fire from the Japanese. However, as soon as possible Captain Giesen took his company ashore. As the equipment reached the beach the men worked to centralise it and to establish a small beach dressing station, since most of the casualties were occurring during the unloading. This dressing station, under Captain Rogers, with five or six men, was established in the undergrowth close to the beach and to an unloading LST. The beach was still under fire from Japanese mortars, and after a mortar shell had landed on the LST the dressing station was moved to a more sheltered spot in the bed of a nearby stream. Here doctor and staff, standing in the creek, worked over patients on stretchers suspended over the water. The height of the banks gave reasonable protection from the flying fragments and enabled dressings to be applied, morphia and blood plasma to be given, despite the attentions of Japanese mortars and mountain guns. A previous arrangement had been made by Lieutenant-Colonel Hunter with the surgeons on the LST that all casualties from the early landing and fighting would be taken back to Guadalcanal on the return trip. Whenever a full occurred in the unloading stretcher bearers carried casualties from the dressing station to the ship. Towards the middle of the afternoon only serious cases were enibarked on the LST, the remainder being taken to our hospital on Stirling by small landing craft. A spectacular incident occurrietf during the morning when Japanese mortars hit their own abandoned ammunition dump in the church at Falamai. The dump blew up, and for the space of about half an hour showered the area with flying fragments. Fortunately the dressing station \vas not affected, and Work continued unabated until the LSTs page 32pulled out to return to their base. The mortars and mountain guns had been silenced during the day, so that casualties on the beach became fewer.

The rest of A company had gathered their equipment and carried it by hand to the chosen site for the advanced dressing station. Stretcher parties journeyed forth to regimental aid posts to carry back to the beach dressing station the casualties that occurred among forward combat troops. The remainder of the company commenced work on the construction of the dressing station—a tent protected by coconut logs and pitched over a dugout some three feet deep. This spot was under fire from mortars, some shells exploding in the tops of trees and causing damage. Two of the our men, Privates Norm. Mclnnes and Bill Smith, had to be evacuated to Guadalcanal as casualties in consequence of this most unfriendly activity on the part of Tojo. After the mortars had been silenced the work went on. In the late afternoon the men began to dig fox-holes for themselves, and the party from the beach dressing station returned to the company. The night was not a restful one, however, for the withdrawal of air cover at nightfall had left the skies to the Japanese. Antiaircraft defences were not yet in operation, so that there was no ground opposition whatever. Headquarters company was similarly placed, but the Japanese airmen seemed to be paying much more attention to the positions on Mono than to those on Stirling. Grenade explosions, bursts of machinegun fire, and spasmodic rifle shots reverberated through the night, which passed in sleepless watchfulness. Thus did the first day of action end.

The next days were memorably busy for all ranks. Headquarters on Stirling carried on with the construction of the hospital and of stores for medical supplies and equipment. Ours was the only medical facility in the group, and we cared for American and New Zealander alike. It was found that during the mornings only a few wounded would arrive, and this gave our theatres a welcome opportunity to re-sterilise their surgical equipment early in the morning in preparation for the treatment of the greater numbers of casualties we would receive later in the day. It so happened that, on many occasions, wounded were evacuated to us in the late afternoon, which meant that the surgeons were called upon to operate until well on into the night. Operations once in progress could not be interrupted, and, despite the wailing sirens and the crash of exploding bombs which often page 33sounded too close for comfort, the surgical staffs carried on calmly and steadily as if air raids and bombing were an everyday occurrence.

On the second day A company, on Mono, sent out its stretcher parties early to bring in casualties from night skirmishes with the enemy. The remainder of the company continued with the completion of the ADS, though, at times, work had to be discontinued because of the attentions of Japanese snipers. However, the enemy was being pushed steadily back into the interior, and the beach areas were becoming much quieter. The second night was a memorable one. The infantry was holding such a long perimeter that it was possible for the Japs to infiltrate through the lines down towards the beach. In the velvet blackness of the jungle night the men crouched huddled in their fox-holes while the enemy could be heard moving about the bivouac area. Earth was thrown into the mouths of some fox-holes, probably with the intention of tantalising the occupants into some betraying-move. Enemy aircraft ranged back and forth overhead, bombing the dumps on the beach at Falamai and trying to pin-point and put out of action the 25-pounders. Not content with bombing alone, planes flew low over the area and strafed it. One patient, who had arrived at the dressing station too late for evacuation to hospital, had been made as comfortable as possible in the dugout of the dressing tent and had two tables placed over him as a protection against falling fragments. Some time during that night, when Japanese bombers were making conditions outside unpleasant, three Japs slipped quietly into the dug-out for shelter. One even sat on a covering table. The unfortunate patient, almost paralysed with fear and surprise, lay still as the dead, which probably saved his life, for the visitors withdrew, leaving him untouched. Japanese infiltrating the position, bombers overhead, occasional strafing, sporadic firing, explosions of grenades, and, added to these, the eerie noises of the jungle, made the night one of long-drawn tension. At dawn the Japanese who remained in the beach area had established themselves in the treetops as snipers and the rest had withdrawn.

On the afternoon of the third day, 29 October 1943, Lieutenant-Colonel Hunter withdrew A company to Stirling. The main reasons supporting this action were that, during daylight hours, casualties were being evacuated to Stirling anyway, and at night cases could not be taken to the ADS because any move-page 34ment after dusk was of necessity interpreted as hostile movement and action taken accordingly. A small party was stationed daily at the beach at Falamai to receive cases from regimental medical officers. The first night spent by A company at headquarters on Stirling was an eventful one. A company's unenviable experiences on Mono seemed to infect the rest of us, and we were all a little on edge. The usual jungle noises, a runner moving up with a message, the mutterings of an exhausted soldier in his sleep, were all magnified and construed as the stealthy infiltration of the Jap. Staff-Sergeant Steptoe, attending a seriously wounded man in the resuscitation ward, heard a rustling outside the tent— a rustling which came steadily closer. Then the tent flap was cautiously lifted and something groped its way forward. The only weapon to hand was a sheath knife—and in the morning, pinned neatly to the ground for all to see, was a large land crab.

The actual fighting was by this time moving away from the Falamai area, as the battalions followed the retreating enemy across the island to Soanatalu to frustrate his attempts to escape to the Japanese-held Shortland Island. We were still being visited by enemy bombers at night, but, before long, our anti-aircraft fire acted as a deterrent to accurate bombing, though damage and casualties were still sometimes inflicted on us.

The crowding of the hospital area, especially since the arrival of A company, made it desirable to remove the hospital to a new location. A fresh site was chosen, but nothing could be done towards clearing the area until the arrival of B company with the second echelon on 1 November. The LSTs which brought this echelon took back some 50 patients to Guadalcanal, thus considerably easing the strain on the hospital accommodation. During this breathing spell, and in the five days before the arrival of the next echelon, the new site was converted into a hospital area with tented accommodation ready for the reception of patients. We evacuated what patients we could on the return trip of the LSTs of the third echelon and transferred the re-mainder to the new site. Here we had room to do justice to a hospital, and we set to work with a will.

Meanwhile the patrols on Mono had been busy Tap hunting until 10 November, 1943, when it was reported that all enemy ground resistance had collapsed with the almost complete annihilation of the total estimated enemy. The remaining days of November saw some upheaval in the field ambulance. Two of our page 35Fiji veterans, Majors Barrowclough and Archer, were transferred from us—the former to go to the command of the 22nd NZ Field Ambulance in Vella Lavella and the latter to the 24th NZ Field Ambulance at Guadalcanal as second-in-command. Our loss was offset to some extent when we welcomed back Major E. S. Thodey, who, in 1941, had been adjutant of the original, the 7th Field Ambulance in Fiji. As a result of these changes Major Giesen became second-in-command of the unit and Major Thodey assumed command of A company. A more widely felt upheaval yet awaited us, however, when it was announced that an airstrip was to be built on Stirling and that the hospital would have to be transferred to Mono. 'Tis said that a soldier without a grouch or complaint is not normal, but there surely could have been no fears for our normalcy had we been overheard as we surveyed all the work so recently completed and as we contemplated the labour still ahead of us at our third hospital site in the Treasuries, which we had invaded but a month ago. B company spent over a week in preliminary work on the chosen camp at Mono, and, early in December, we moved across by LCM (landing craft, motor). Once more we set about camp building, and for some time we all worked steadily digging ourselves in and improvising comforts for our patients and ourselves. Trees, which the impact of war had made unsafe, had to be felled; tropical rains brought mud, which had to be overcome by building roads with felled tree trunks as a base and with a coral covering to form an all-weather surface; showers—a great boon in tropical heat—were installed; and, eventually, the engineers built floors for the hospital tents—floors of real mahogany milled from trees cut down when ground for the airstrip on Stirling was cleared. In camp building, wherever we had been, our ASC attached had always proved themselves towers of strength. A word about these drivers of our transport company. They formed an independent body, jealous of their white pugaree, sometimes difficult in their failure to bow to officialdom, but they were staunchly loyal to the field ambulance, grand workers when the need arose, and we are proud of the friendship they gave us.

Christmas, 1943, was made as festive as conditions would allow. A rare issue of ale was forthcoming, and our rations from the Americans—especially the turkeys—allowed of a Christmas dinner to which the cooks in its preparation, and the rest of us in its consumption, did full justice. Early in the New Year we page 36lost two officers who had been attached to the unit since Fencourt and who had rendered signal service throughout their period of attachment. Major Waterworth, of the field surgical unit, was transferred to the 4th NZ General Hospital as senior surgeon, and his place was taken by Major K. Rees Thomas. Padre Sheild went to our old friend, the 29th Battalion, and in his place came Padre R. C. Aires from the 2nd NZ Casualty Clearing Station.

Action completed, the camp built, the routine for nursing-, receiving and evacuating casualties running smoothly, life in the unit became monotonous and boring in the extreme as we settled down once more to garrison duties. We hoped that, after our initial success in action, the brigade might soon be used again to assist in Admiral Halsey's rapidly mounting drive against the Japanese. However, except for one occasion when we were warned to stand by prepared for participation in a show which rumour claimed was a big one, we were left severely alone and day followed day on sluggish feet. Some training was carried out by the companies when not employed in hospital work, but as we had done little else but train for years past we were not enthusiastic. Many official steps were taken to combat boredom— films, race meetings," swimming sports and concerts. Unofficial steps taken by the troops themselves to pass away the hours were more varied. Hobbies found favour, and a remunerative and flourishing young industry developed when an allied market was found for souvenirs. Most ingenious were the lathes for the turning of coconut wood to make table napkin rings and similar bric-a-brac. There was another industry, too, about which we will not go into detail, but we did sometimes wonder where the affluent Private 'Snow' Evans disappeared to in the still of the night. Blanche Harbour was an excellent boating area, and a fleet of small craft of all shapes and sizes, including Lance-Corporal Newby's professional-looking yacht, made their appearance and plied back and forth between the islands.

At the end of March we lost our adjutant when Captain Oliver was appointed to the command of the 4th Motor Ambulance Convoy. Lieutenant W. R. Sexton, of B company, succeeded to the appointment, and Lieutenant L. A. Mills, who was well known to most of us from training days at Trentham, was a popular new arrival. Lieutenant Sexton had joined the 7th Field Ambulance in Fiji, and from the day at Tamavua when, as a newly arrived 'white leghorn' corporal, he had broken ranks and before the page 37startled eyes of CO, adjutant, RSM and troops, had heartily embraced a highly respected and attractive nurse of the NZANS, we knew he was destined for a successful army career, That the nurse was his sister was soon discovered, but our early assessment of his initiative was justified by his subsequent promotion.

In April, 1944, monotony was broken by the announcement of the scheme to return men to New Zealand for employment in industry. Finally some hundred men from the camp, including some from the field surgical unit, hygiene section and malaria control unit, returned to New Caledonia en route for New Zealand. With them to Necal went a certain amount of equipment to await the arrival of the rest of the unit. From this time forward the number of patients in hospital decreased steadily, and much of our equipment was packed in preparation for the withdrawal of the brigade from the Treasuries. By early May what equipment could be spared had been dumped at Falamai and there awaited the arrival of shipping. We still ran a hospital, but it was a very small affair compared with the original. At last, late one night, we received orders to embark the following day. A frantic time ensued for us all, especially for our quarter-master's staff, as we toiled to pack the remaining equipment, prepare shipping schedules, load trucks and carry out the dozens of tasks which are essential if a camp site is to be left in a reasonably sanitary condition. The native bush telegraph was soon in operation, and Solomon Islanders were early on the job salvaging items which, to them, were valuable or attractive. By mid-afternoon, 15 May, 1944, we had boarded the USS Tryon, ready for the first lap of the voyage home.