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"Breathes there the man with soul so dead." ... So chanted two of us on the deck of a home-bound ship two days out from Suva. One of the advantages of a Varsity education is that it leaves one with an impressive collection of tags and quotations, laboriously assimilated for the delusion of examiners, wherewith to furish the ready quip or the cynic paraphrase.
I am to tell of Fiji, the Isle where Romance Still Lives, the Tropic Playground, as the posters planted it before the eyes of the troops. What the troops said doesn't matter. Romance was rare, but beauty there was, and all the rich colour of the tropics: lofty palms in dark silhouette against a rising moon and a silver sea; the deep blue of tropic waters cut by the creamy-white line where the reef meets the eternal Pacific rollers; Indian women in bright-hued
They were a good crowd, those chaps. Drawn from all walks of life, they were moulded into a curious uniformity that is the product of the Army. One doesn't realise their essential decency until one is sick or "down to it." The little shy kindnesses and elaborately casual offers that flock in spontaneously from all sides are testimony enough.
Not a few of them had known the stairs and benches (are they still as hard?) of Wikitoria. Not a few noble lumps of grey matter were concealed beneath those peaked felt hats, and many a body schooled to athletic endeavour in a cooler clime now flaunted itself in tropic shirt and shorts.
Ron. Corkill, a second lieutenant of Artillery, practised the mysteries of his craft "somewhere in Fiji." If memory serves aright, I. A.
Graham Wilson, also of the Medicals, having earned his commission on the field, is now also a "pipper" and a person of consequence. Sergeant
In retrospect, it seems that we had a lot of fun in Fiji, and were quite happy much of the time. Australian beer was a shilling a bottle, when supplies didn't run out, and tobacco was cheap. Our chief trouble was boredom. In the absence of an enemy, Army life is apt to pall. Suva was small and the white population rather exclusive, and once the glamour had worn off we found it dull and dirty. The natives are interesting, but ethnology does not provide much entertainment for the average man; so, in short, we had little to do.
The New Zealand of which we have dreamed and sung, in verses, none the less sincere for their ribaldry, seems a cold place indeed, and many luxuries are distressingly short, but—we're Home at
And so we "say farewell to Fiji, lovely isle of the South Sea, set like a jewel
"Syria—it was all new country, and what a change to see grass along the railway tracks, and trees and olive and citrus groves freely scattered about the landscape. We camped for two nights in an olive prove near Haifa, then proceeded up the Lebanon coast . . . the land is green."
So writes Garth Wallace from Svria, where the New Zealand Division till recently was stationed. Wallace in a later letter laments that he is up among the snows with a surveying unit, clutching a revolver in one frostbitten hand, a theodolite in the other, and a set square between his chattering teeth.
Others stationed in this sector are: Major I. A. Hart, Captain R. R. T. Young, and R. I. Thomas, Alan Wilton, Allan E. Kennard, Pryor Lee, Ken. Gough, Charles Gallagher, Ray Menendez, Tanu Jowett, D. G. Steele, G. G. Rae, E. R. Chesterman, C. Camp, A. G. Holms, and D. Gerard.
For a number of years no Extrav. curtain went up without the blessing and supervision of Cedric Wright, who stage-managed a number of 'Varsity's most successful shows. He is in the Navy now, and writes from England:—
"Since leaving New Zealand I've had the time of my life—it's the best skylark I've ever been on. It's a bit grim at times, but there are some exciting moments. The initial training in Suffolk was a glorious summer holiday: they taught us knots and splices and Navy language, and shipped us off to sea in bell-bottomed pants.
"I have just come in from six months at sea on a snappy long-range destroyer, and during the period we had only 48 hours' shore leave. The packet was a tiger for work, and holds the steaming record for our flotilla. We managed to be in at most things, and took part in most of the scoops that hit the headlines of the national press.
"Spent two months in Russia—had Christmas Day at Murmansk with a temperature of 11° below zero. We did time round at Archangel, and had a week ashore there. It's a pretty bleak part of the world, with piles of timber as far as the eye can see. All wooden buildings of good solid construction; electric trams and motor-cars; broad streets, patrolled by dashing Cossacks, who gallop up and down complete with revolvers and swords and tassels and all. No young men about; all at the front. Lots of women guards, complete with, rifle and bayonet, on sentry duty, and women working everywhere. They tackle some heavy jobs in the timber line, and appeared to us to be almost down near the beast of burden line.
"Have been into a couple of fjords in Norway, and had plenty of smacks at Focke-Wulfs and other miscellaneous odd bodies, and chased subs, all over the Atlantic. The blokes on my ship were a pretty tough bunch, and life on our mess deck was as colourful as anything Eugene O'Neill ever wove into a play.
•
I had these comments first-hand from a Tommy officer who spent a few months with Russian troops in Iran: Armaments and food—excellent; organisation—wonderful; discipline—very good; morale—the best in the world. Evidently these bleeding Bolshies have something better to fight for than we are led—to believe.
Of the three fighting services, the Air Force demands the highest educational qualifications from its recruits, and a high percentage of university men enter this service. Many of them have gained commissions, many been on operations over England and German-occupied Europe. There are V.U.C. men training in New Zealand, in Canada, and in England. Among the familiar names are those of Les. Gandar, Lloyd Stuchbery, Peter Hillyer (now making an excellent recovery from his recent airplane crash), George Culliford, Jim Croxton (doing meteorological work on a Pacific island), Kingi Tahiwi, Bill Austin, Bruce Drummond, and Athol Howarth.
Canada is quite a reasonable place. But I do miss the mountains. Admittedly the Rockies are of the highest order. We have nothing in New Zealand to equal them with their different-coloured strata all running horizontal. There was not much snow on them when we passed through, and I was rather glad of that, as snow is only white anyway!—Pilot-Officer L. R. Stuchbery.
•
It is impossible at this stage to give complete lists of ex-students serving in the various theatres of war, but a few names of men serving with the Navy and the Fleet Air Arm will be familiar to recent students;
In addition to her men serving overseas, V.U.C. has numbers of students and ex-students who are stationed with the Forces for the
Tobruk has fallen, the Commons are in revolt, Sebastopol is besieged, a New War Administration controls New Zealand, the Chinese have made important gains, Mr. Churchill is in Washington, the Headline News from London, a Second Front in
Some, I know, would like to return to New Zealand, for they feel that their homeland is in more urgent need of their services, others because danger threatens those who are near to them. New Zealand, I can assure them, is well prepared to stand any attack that may come, and has already achieved the reputation of the most mobilised dominion of the British Commonwealth. Every week we become stronger, and the additional influx of supplies from the United States will supplement New Zealand's already formidable defence forces.
And remember, fellow students overseas, that you and your comrades, wherever you strike at the Axis, are striking a blow for the defence of New Zealand, a blow for freedom and democracy. The subjugated peoples of Europe look to you for the fulfilment of the Atlantic Charter, for "that peace which will afford to all nations the means of dwelling in safety within their own boundaries, and which will ensure that the men in all lands may live out their lives in freedom from fear and want."
We have implicit confidence, that despite incompetence in politicians and high commands, the day is not far distant when we will be able to raise our glasses to the victory of the United Nations and the destruction of fascism.
The article in the last issue of "Salient" under the above heading by a rather embryonic history stu dent has caused some comment in the College, and we feel on those grounds alone further discussion on the sub ject is merited. Had we been vouch safed as much space as he, there are
The statement that no history lecture
He complains that he never heard any philosophy of history diseased in a
Finally, for a student who does not
•
Now that the Japs are into the expanding game we spend more time at sea . . . last Friday I spent the afternoon with Jim Croxton and Stan. Lowe at——. I didn't have a chance to see Crox's photos of
To hear about the history, customs and methods of famous Polish uni versities from a former professor at one of them was the good fortune of those who attended the lecture by the Consul-General for Poland in New Zealand, Count Wodzicki, arranged by the Biological Society. After dwelling for some time on the universities' invasion-ridden history, Count Wodzicki told of the organisa tion of the faculties and the various clubs, both of which seem to receive more serious consideration there than here. Part-timing in most courses is virtually impossible, except on the basis of working one year and using the money earned for studying the next, and so on through the course, while the Count remembered return ing home at three and four, in the morning from heated discussions at various clubs. This makes even the most enthusiastic of ours look pretty milk-and-watery bodies. As far as can be recalled, the Haeremai Club is the only one we have had whose mem bers habitually negotiated the home doorstep at that hour, and their
An impression left by the Count's address, and his answers to questions from the audience, was that Victoria would do better if she cried to develop along the lines of
At supper after his lecture the Count was even more interesting as he discussed Poland herself, her
The Empire, on which the rising sun has set, or is trying to, was con demned to oblivion at Friday's debate, the motion, "That this house considers it desirable that the British Empire should survive the war," being re jected by 25 votes to 20. The opinion of the speakers and the house were more evenly divided than they had been at the two previous debates, but the standard of speaking was not quite so high, nor were there so many speakers. It was a broad enough sub ject in all conscience, but perhaps students are dutifully following the academic, lead of the principal by not thinking about the post war world. Saves so much worry, what? Yet
To consider the philosophy underlying such a film as "Two Faced Woman" may seem rather like breaking a dung-beetle on the wheel. Yet the result is not without a certain obscene interest.
The story is that of a middle-aged debauché who marries a ski-instructress, tires of her because she despises the city life for which he pines, abandons her for his former fiancee, is pursued by his wife disguised as a mythical and immoral twin-sister, thinks he commits adultery with her, and is finally reconciled to her after she has expressed her willingness to live any sort of life he wants her to live. This tale, superficially immoral, affords lessons of great value to any young man or woman anxious to get on in the world. These may be summarized as follows:—
(a) While there are things like a man's business that he's got to be serious about it isn't reasonable to expect him to have any deep or, lasting emotions about the women with whom he may fall in "love."
(b) If a woman is going to get her man she's got to drop any silly idealistic notions about leading other than an entirely banal existence. In particular, those that want anything better than the good time you can get in night clubs of I'il ole New York are just looking for trouble, and the sooner they mend their ways the better for themselves and everyone else.
On such an attitude carried over from sexual to social relationships depends, of course, the continuance of a world safe for Messrs. Metro-Golawyn-Mayer.
As the "Dominion" said with such dreadful irony: "It would seem that Garbo is very willing to . . . get down to the real business for which she is paid a huge salary—the business of providing entertainment for a hard-working, war-minded public." If the "Dominion's" judgment as to what the public want in wartime were true, it would have a corollary both melancholy and subversive. Fortunately, however, the reception accorded the film here seems to suggest that the people of this country have not yet accepted in their entirety the morals and culture of the Hollywood canaille.
What are girls at Victoria for? It can't be to sweep out the rooms and corridors, because Brookie's gallant little army does that; it can't be to arrange the flowers in lecture rooms and on professors' desks, because if there are any flowers in these places they
With nearly all our men in the armed services, and with
Do any girls speak at debates? Few. Do any write for "Salient"? Fewer. Do they form the mainstay of any live club in the college? Are they making any attempts to revivify clubs moribund because of men's departures? Can it be said that more than two per cent, of the women students at Victoria are doing anything to help to keep real University life and institutions going till the boys come back from the fight, The answer, as too often from a woman, is a definite No.
Sir,—Surely
Such steps, if carried out, would certainly weld the nation more closely into that
The letter from Orm
Served well to inform
What students are thinking
Of attacks on their drinking.
In the first issue for this year you deliberately waste two inches of valuable news space with the command "Write for 'Salient.'" There is no request at all—just the typical totalitarian fanatic's fascism.
In the second issue a good editorial appeared on Army Education. I replied early in May. No letters were published in the third copy, probably due to the terrific scoop on "Truth" and Mr. Hislop.
The fourth issue again demands articles, this time with the words "Salient' is Your Paper" squeezed in—a little compromise on behalf of the fascist bouncers on "Salient's" staff. There are three
Frankly . . . An Organ of Student Opinion at Victoria" ... I will
I would regret this step, as I feel every student should not only say "Salient," but also write for it.
Trusting that this effort will shake the egocentrism and
[It is regretted that this letter had to be abridged drastically to bring it near the 100-word limit on letters.]
Congratulations to the Executive on scotching the presumptuous suggestions of those Hamilton women, to the secretary on the letter he wrote them, and to yourself on publishing the correspondence. Of course complete prohibition, at which such impertinent female
Gentle jollity was the motif of the year's second tea dance, with respectability again triumphant, though not in quite such a depressing form as
The number present comfortably filled the women's common room, and was comfortably filled in the caf. during the interval. Considering everything, the dance smacked more of a well-managed drawing room than a Broadway hot spot, but it was fun for all that. Such evenings would draw dancers if held every fortnight, and it's a pity that dances after plays and debates and so on are not so well supported. It's worth a try, you who haven't been along to a tea dance. Remember, boys, 'Varsity girls have other accomplishments than crouching behind piles of books in the library: and remember, girls, there are still some New Zealand boys about.
•
Tea Dance
Saturday, 4th July
5—7.30 p m.
Proceeds Student
ADMISSION
"Usually whenever I'm on tour I manage to potter about London for a bit. London is good ... have met numbers of theatrical people and been backstage in plenty of
theatres. Life, she is very good..."— Capt. Wright.
W. N. Watson, formerly artist for the magazine, has been
I went and saw Don. Robertson. He is much better now, and it won't by long before he is up and about again. He gave me some ginger nuts which he had received in one of the V.U.C. parcels. Durie Maysmor made them, and they weren't bad either.—Pte. A. R. Anderson.
Sir,—Re the Secretary's letter in your last issue—rum and raspberries (on the house!).
Threepence Down
v. Marist. Lost 3—4.
A slippery ball and the fast-breaking Marist forwards spoiled any chances we may have had of making the Marist game a good one. Nevertheless, it did have certain satisfying features, the first of which must be Burke's amazing hooking. He raked from scrum after scrum with clock-like regularity, but a feast of ball proved of little use to our backs. It is a sad confession to say that a 'Varsity pack has forgotten how to wheel a scrum, particularly with such men as Rude, Murphy and MacLennan in key positions. Yet such was the case. However, Johnson and Caldwell played particularly well, the latter thoroughly deserving his try. Much praise to Dave Tossman for the way he kept big Jim Gillespie in check, and using pace and determination on attack himself. Perhaps we were unlucky—but our bad tactics in not varying our play enough cost us the game.
v. Seatoun. Won 16—5.
Sam Meads and Stewie McNicol made their farewell appearance for V.U.C. in a game that was somewhat lethargic in the first spell. However, the second half saw these "venerable old gentlemen" come to life with a vengeance, and with Murphy, MacLennan, and Harry Martin (ex A.U.G.) right on the job, the Seatoun pack failed to stay the distance. Harris, after a week's rest, went a great game, and the versatile Tossman, back in the forwards again, was as good as the best. Pile, the Maori All Black half, gave us good service behind the pack, and two good tries fairly reflected the quality of his play. Shades of Bill Elvy in Hadfield's try! He side-stepped two men, swerved round another, fended off a fourth, finally to crash through the full-back's tackle and score in the corner after never having moved more than two yards from the sideline. Ryder, on the other wing, played his best game to date, showing surprising pace and kicking with judgment. Quite a satisfactory day all in all.
v. Petone. Lost 8—15.
In a game of lost chances and costly-dropped passes, the Junior backline belied their strength on paper against the villagers. In the forwards it was another story, and the big 'Varsity pack, led by Martin, who was promoted to the Seniors for the next game, and McKay, gave the Petone packmen something to think about.
v. Athletic. Won 2—3
Many of the
Bennett was another who went well, his line-out playing being excellent. He is fine breakaway forward in the making, having pace, height and Wight.
v. Miramar "B." Won 21—0.
The Thirds had a Igglesden gave his backs plenty of ball from the, serums, and Paki. Macalister and Cooper made the most, of their chances. At half. Roberts was very sound, his body-wriggle in his blindside dashes helping him
It is a pity the team drew the bye last week, as it is starting, to settle down now, and in spite of changing
The splendid run of wins, which the Women's Hockey Club has succeeded in maintaining up to the present, came to an end last Saturday, when the Seniors had their first loss. Perhaps the team is becoming a little complacent at having won four matches in succession, because our opponents this week should have been no more of an obstacle than the others.
The new people are very enthusiastic. Mary Seddon is very good, but should hit more firmly The Seniors played very well, but lost against Old Girls 3—0. They have won four matches out of five this season.
The Juniors, with Maureen O'Connor as captain, played a good game against Tech. Old Girls, but lost 5—0. Janet in her new position played well, and Daisy as a back and Maribel Wilson as a forward played good games.
To any students who have not yet joined the club, mixed practices are held in the gym. on Thursday nights. It's good fun even if you don't play on Saturdays.
The Hockey Club which is at present fielding two teams has had up to now a moderately successful season. The Senior team has had four draws and one loss and one win, but the indications are that it will bo more successful in the near future.
Two freshers from Wellington College playing good hockey in the Senior team are Ivor Ting and Bill Osten, while a number of last year's Senior team are once again available.
Charlie Bollard has consented to turn out for his old club again and his coaching hints have had a beneficial effect upon the teams. The Third Grade team contains a number of promising players among whom are Tom Slinn, Arthur McIlraith and
The team which is to journey north to play Auckland University College has now been selected and although the team is not as strong as could be wished owing to the fact that several members are unable to travel it is thought that it will provide strong opposition. The team is as follows:—George-Marwick, Evan Raine, Ivor Ting, Noel McKay, Ted Breach, Bruce Hands, Jack Barr, Bill Osten, Arch. Ives, Ken. Kiddle and Peter
A shadow of sorrow lay over the Harrier Club at the week-end before last. Frank O'Flynn, popular leading member of the Club, had lost his father. The Club was well represented at Requiem Mass at the Basilica on the Saturday morning, and takes this opportunity of again offering Frank its sympathy.
With Frank not running, and with Myles O'Connor plucked from us at short notice to go Home Guarding, the team for the inter-club race over the Dorne Cup course at Hutt Park was sadly weakened. Had Myles and Frank been able to turn out, we would have held high hopes of beating Scottish, but without them we were not good enough. Giff Rowberry ran a splendid race, his best of the season, and one of the best he has ever run for the Club, to get second place, while Ian McDowell turned on another good performance to be ninth, but Scottish had a full four-man team home by then.
We landed a nice group in getting twelfth, thirteenth and fourteenth places, but they were too far back to help. The rest of the green-singleted coterie scrambled aimiably through fences, splashed boyishly through patches of mud, and gambolled across paddocks with equal enthusiasm and varying effectiveness. There were more of us in the first half of the placings than in the last half, anyway.
For those whom recent legislation has so suddenly deprived of anything to do between 2 and 4 of a Saturday afternoon the Harrier Club is considering forming a dribble along pack, whose progress about the landscape will make the slow pack look like Nurmis. Intending members of the pack should come to the Methodist Hall, Thorndon, at 2.16 p.m next Saturday, and bring proofs of their qualifications. Openers will be provided.
Last Saturday's run, from Island Bay, involved a comfortably vigorous effort by both packs. While the slow pack went up on the hills to the west of the valley, then down to Happy Valley and home round the water-front, the fast pack followed along the eastern ridge to Crawford Road, and home through Lyall Bay and Houghton Bay. After the race there was afternoon tea at Mr. Shorland's, a gathering which was curiously distinguished by the large number who had to leave early to catch the Hutt train.
Three weeks ago we held our second Sunday tramp for this year ostensibly to the Lower Whakatiki River, but as the "best laid plans"—we went a little awry; this perhaps can be accounted for by the fact that not even the leader knew quite how to reach "those pleasant surroundings." However the sun shone through, and we had an excellent tramp from Moonshine over the hills to Paremata. We really are rather proud of our day's "winter crossing."
The following week a party of ten got a taste of real Tararua tramping on the Hutt Forks-Quoin-Alpha round trip. After sweltering over the Hutt Forks and freezing in the intense cold on the tops, the party was quite ready for enormous meals in Alpha Hut, to the accompaniment of "The Virgin Sturgeon" and similar choice items in, tramping tradition. No one will forget sleeping out in the snow at 3,500 feet, or searching in the mist for the way off the summit of Alpha—any more than the sight of Ruth Fletcher and Mary Mackersey jammed into one sleeping-bag, or Douglas Yen's
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