Chapter Seven
The Land Of New Caledonia

There was much jubilation at the news that four hours' shore-leave would be granted at Suva, where we arrived one day out from Tongatabu. The 'old hands' were eager to visit their former haunts, and there was much exaggeration in pointing out to the newer members of the battalion gunpits and wire for which the veterans had been responsible in the old days. Hotels were out of bounds to all ranks, and pickets placed on them. They performed their duties so admirably that the only persons who had to be helped on board again were the pickets themselves. On shore the warmth of the reception given us by the people of Suva was a gratifying tribute to the good reputation that had endured after our departure eight months before. But it not quite the same Suva. In particular, prices in the now scantily-stocked shops had soared, and there were other obvious changes brought about by the huge influx of American troops. As we steamed out of Suva Bay that night it seemed to mark the end of an epoch in the battalion's history. Ending now was the period in which we had lived with a large measure of independence—in Nausori, and particularly in Tongatabu; beginning was our absorption into one greater organisation—the New Zealand Expeditionary Force in the Pacific (the NZEF IP) which, while this involved the abandonment of much of our freedom and choice of action, promised for us a future of some definiteness and purpose.

Noumea, which we reached on 13 March, provided convincing evidence that the war in the South Pacific was still close at hand. Warships and merchant vessels by the score crowded the docks and anchorages. On shore the streets of the little city and the countryside around were thronged with military traffic, moving in endless page 51procession. Huge store areas arrested the attention as we moved out of the town in our convoys, bound northwards. We passed an airfield, planes parked wing to wing—acres of them. All this, we knew, was just a fraction of allied might in the Pacific theatre. The immensity of war had never before been so visibly impressed on us.

Bouloupari, an unkempt village about 45 miles north of Noumea, was our new camp site. Here the first party arrived during the afternoon followed throughout the rest of the day, and through the night, by later convoys. Working parties which had been left in Noumea to help unload ship reached camp shortly before dawn next morning. Low rolling country, grassy, with high ranges some miles to the east—these were our surroundings when we came to take stock. Everywhere there grew a curious gnarled tree, similar to a eucalyptus, with ragged bark. It was the niaouli—perhaps the one thing that will forever live in the memories of Third Division men. The niaouli came to be almost a symbol of our life in New Caledonia, for its wood went into our cookhouse fires and made goalposts for the rugby and soccer grounds; the smoke from its leaves warded off mosquitoes; the bark made roofs, huts, store-houses, recreation halls; and old inhabitants said that its juice cured rheumatism. As far as the eye could see there was niaouli.

The battalion was unfortunate with its camp site in that the Bouloupari area was intolerably infested with mosquitoes. From tidal flats and swamps close at hand these winged nuisances rose in countless swarms, and attacked our succulent bodies with ruthless joy. In every minute of every day the contest with the mosquito was the uppermost thought in everyone's mind, for it invaded every part of our life and never ceased attacking. Chief anti-invasion weapon was the smudge fire, the main ingredient being the pungent-smelling niaouli leaf and bark. At night every tent had its smudge fire burning; orderly room and other administrative staffs kept fires smoking beside them all day. To the inexperienced, the fantastic proportions which the mosquito menace reached in Bouloupari would be incredible. By great good fortune, the worst was over by the end of April, but we were never entirely free. Standing up to the insect blitz with typical New Zealand fortitude and the expenditure of a vast amount of profanity, the battalion proceeded with the usual task of home-building. Improvements soon began to appear—niaouli huts, wind-breaks around tents, better roads, mess-halls, and recreation rooms. Padre Osbourne-Brown, nearly at the end of his stay page 52with us, did one of his best jobs in erecting a recreation and study hut, made of niaouli, and strips of canvas. As time passed every company became more and more active in building itself better quarters, and there was hardly a niaouli tree within miles that had not lost most of its bark to our marauders. Mr. Pat Parker, Ymca secretary, joined the battalion at a fairly late stage, and many hands helped him establish a new Ymca, which proved very popular. Another notable achievement was the building of a bakehouse—with shining vats of beaten tin, and that worthy baker, Private C. F. Oak, of B company, presiding over a good output of loaves each day. We liked our own bread and scones.

Who will ever forget that feat of complicated engineering—the dam over the stream, that was to provide the camp with an all-the-year-round swimming pool We lost count how many times it was started, collapsed, then started again, but we put on record the admirable work done by the carriers in finally putting it through. It was a most impressive structure—the water banked up for miles back, inundating local farms, and when it finally broke, the water swept away four hens and (it was rumoured) a Javanese laundry man who happened to be labouring innocently by the water's edge. The impression that the average soldier formed of New Caledonia was, rightly or wrongly, a poor one. He was influenced so much by the curse of the mosquito, by the barren aspect of the niaouliclad country, by the inadequacy of the water supply (so far as the 34th was concerned) and by the apparent squalor of the local people. There were many, however, who appreciated the mild temperate climate, the grandeur of much of the scenery, and who came to know French families, between whom and ourselves the only difference was language.

Very soon after the arrival in Necal training recommenced. (Necal or Cale were the popular abbreviations for New Caledonia). We started with the usual liberal amounts of route marching and cross-country treks. But as the battalion was now a unit once more of the 8th Brigade, it had to fulfill the tactical roles set down for it. This involved taking turns with the other battalions in guarding strategic points. So after a fortnight of settling in at Bouloupari, companies moved out to do guard duties at the Tontouta and Ouat' om airfields, and to occupy the strategically important areas of Sara-mea and Thio. Although this entailed much sentry work at night, going out to sectors was a popular move, for the men enjoyed greater freedom page break

By bridge, bamboo raft and trestle, the men crossed rivers and tidal streams in their treks round Nausori and the Rewa Delta. Below is the main bridge at Nausori. The trestle bridge (above) was an ingenious method of crossing tidal streams

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Bures in native style housed C company at Raralavu, above. Below are C company's billets at Nausori and a scene in a small native village

page 53during the day and—well, getting a long distance from battalion headquarters is always popular. At Tontouta those on duty were particularly fortunate in being able to get flights at almost any time. Often American pilots, on test or training flights, were glad to have men in their machines to act as ballast. There is at least one known instance of an enterprising cook who flew to Melbourne, spent a pleasant weekend there, and returned to duty on Monday after-noon.

As camp sites, Saramea and Thio were unexcelled. Both had fine rivers, and mosquitoes were not bad. Ouatom and Tontouta, however, were miserable camps in the heart of the mosquito country, with niaouli crowding in on all sides. Still, they were occupied for only a fortnight or three weeks at a time, and the airfields nearby provided a steady source of interest. The morning at Ouatom when a P38—a Lightning—was testing its guns, and a burst was fired through our camp, was certainly interesting enough. Off-duty hours through the day were often profitably occupied in deer-stalking expeditions. At Tontouta, softball and cricket were the popular games. Swimming was the favourite at Saramea and Thio, though the little football ground at Thio also saw some doughty contests.

There were three notable training exercises in New Caledonia. The first, and least arduous, was known as 'Exercise Para'—the idea being that American paratroops would co-operate in the manoeuvres. Unforunately at the last minute a shortage of planes prevented their participation and the exercise went on without them. From a conical peak shown on the map as Me Pin, troops advanced through lightly-wooded country with heavy undergrowth, around or over the steep spur of 'Sugarloaf' and on up to a high ridge some two miles from the starting point. Aircraft, controlled from battalion headquarters, dropped dummy bombs to add realism, while mortars and other weapons fired happily in all directions. One of the chief objects of the exercise was to test communications, and the radios (No. 108 sets) were found not to measure up to the required standard for jungle country. This break-down in communications was largely responsible for what then appeared to be the mysterious disappearance from the battleground of A company and an attached machine-gun platoon at a crucial stage of the battle. Left out of the picture by the failure of the radios, Captain Toon's worthy foemen betook themselves in the direction of the nearest road where page 54they filled in some happy hours until the arrival of the trucks to take them home.

Undoubtedly the severest physical test our men ever endured was the stunt done some time later over the high country surrounding the Dent de St. Vincent, a 4,700 foot peak a few miles south of Bouloupari. The 'dent' is the third highest mountain in New Caledonia, and can be climbed by a rough track which gets progressively steeper and more arduous as it ascends. The plan was that the battalion should take to these hills to attack a band of 'guerillas', allegedly operating from the slopes of the 'dent'. Every man carried four days' rations, plus full personal equipment and weapons. Machine-gunners and mortarmen slung their 40-50 lb loads and hoped for the best. A special band of water carriers (the carrier platoon mostly) tied two-gallon tins of water on top of their packs. From the Ouenghi River (almost at sea level) the ascent began. Two nights were spent sleeping beside the track on the mountain, men huddling to keep warm in the bitter wind at altitudes of over 3,000 feet. The main body of the battalion was over the summit of the 'peak' in the afternoon of the second day. On the third day, the 'guerillas' were located, attacked, and (though there is some dispute about it) routed. The 29th Battalion, who provided the 'guerilla' force, maintain that they withdrew in orderly fashion. By the afternoon of the fourth day we had descended the precipitous 1,000 foot 'Zigzag', waded the rivers, and were on the way home. Third, and longest manoeuvre, was 'Exercise Bula'—which lasted six days and carried the whole brigade over some 50 miles of country from Bouloupari to Moindou, in a northerly direction. In the early stages everybody and everything became thoroughly wet and, of necessity, this gave men good practice at living and working under difficulties. Few gunners or drivers will forget the 'Saddle', where all vehicles and guns had to be winched through the mud over that ridge. To boil the inevitable billy at every possible halt the men worked miracles in conjuring flames out of the wettest wood. Stories aplenty came out of 'Exercise Bula'—the senior officer who fired a red flare as a 'success signal,' and then realising that it was a little premature shouted to all and sundry 'Recall that flare!' There was the unaccountable delay in the attack on the 'enemy' just south of Moindou until it was discovered that the leading battalion had stopped to eat lunch; the miracle that the 34th performed in beginning the attack on La Foa at 15 minutes' notice, when half the men were page 55a quarter of a mile away swimming; and the gallant attempt of one platoon from D company to capture Red Farm which was so important an objective that the whole of the 36th Battalion had been allotted to it but hadn't yet arrived.

Apart from these large-scale manoeuvres, there was an atmosphere of greater realism in all the training done by the battalion. Experiments in jungle perimeters were tried, live shooting continued on an extensive scale; and many smaller exercises were held, one featuring the evacuation of casualties, even to the last detail of preparing a military cemetery. Some honest French farmer will be nonplussed one day when he comes upon that patch of ground, with the names of the 'casualties' still visible on the pegs. Obviously the division was schooling itself for something more serious ahead of it. For special training, many officers and other ranks were sent away to courses of instruction. Lieutenant I. Graham and Lieutenant M. W. Speight attended combat intelligence courses at Guadalcanal; the gas officer, Lieutenant H. R. Waldegrave learnt the latest about chemical frightfulness in Australia, and returned with fine samples of lewisite and mustard gas burns on his arm. Numbers of others went back to New Zealand to attend schools in various branches of infantry work. Even the batmen were not forgotten, and a special class in the sterner side of their duties was organised at Bouloupari. New radios, jeeps, new equipment of a variety of kinds, kept coming to hand. For the first time in its history, the battalion found it had all it wanted in the way of war-like stores, should it need them.

Following the circulation of wild rumours, a new organisation for an infantry battalion was announced towards the end of May. Our D (support) company was disbanded, the mortars going over to headquarters company, and one selected vickers platoon leaving the battalion entirely, to join the new brigade machine-gun company. This new company was to be commanded by Major Logan who had for so long presided over D (support). The remainder of the vickers men were split up between the rifle companies. A brand new D company came into being, the other rifle companies sending over a platoon each to make it up to strength.

Reinforcements from the disbanded Scots and Ruahine Battalions, both officers and men, were very welcome additions to our strength. We could well understand the unhappiness of these men who had grown up to be proud of their own regiments, and then, page 56when sterner things seemed to be imminent, saw their units dissolved and their friends scattered throughout the rest of the force. But they soon became part of us. On the other hand, we lost a number of good men who, thirsting for action and still unconvinced that they would get it with the 34th Battalion, applied for transfers to the RNZAF, and left early in August.

Never at any time in the islands were troops able to enjoy leave as could their fellows in other war theatres. In Fiji there had been Suva to visit, though its attractions were limited, Tongatabu was barren of anything to offer a soldier out on leave, save the Red Cross recreation centre. In New Caledonia the one lure was Noumea, and from time to time small leave parties were able to spend a few days trudging around the rather grimy streets, eyeing the many attractive French girls (who, from long practice, never responded), sampling the concoctions of the street bars, and buying up copious quantities of the stock of American post exchanges. There was also a leave camp at Thio, on the nortlveast coast of the island, where conditions were very pleasant. Early in August, horrifying rumours (based on fact) began to gain currency that the brigade was to embark on a 100-mile route march. This dire prospect was suddenly transformed into incredulity when it was announced that the march had been cancelled, and a weeks' holiday at Thio granted to the whole brigade. The troops rode over to Thio through the one-way gorge road that ran across the island in an attitude of watchful expectancy. This seemed too good. But there was a catch. Camps were pitched down the valley, some along the river bank, others, such as our own, hard by the sea beach. And there we enjoyed a week of sun-bathing, swimming, visiting the mines, and playing games in intervals between sleeping. Leave at Thio ended on a dramatic note, as reports came from Island Command that a Japanese spy had been seen in the Thio district. The 34th Battalion would investigate. The battalion returned to Bouloupari, leaving a rear party at Thio under command of Captain C. W. McMillan. This redoubtable band wandered hopefully about the Thio and Canala area looking for Jap footprints, but without success. To this day and hour that spy may still be at large.

Everyone knew that our stay in New Caledonia was preliminary to service further afield—and the shape of things to come had begun to be clear after three months of hut-building, training, and swatting mosquitoes. Accent was laid on amphibious operations. It page 57started when the battalion was asked for the weights and measurements of all its war equipment (this was in July) and very soon afterwards troops began to receive long instruction in the many phases of amphibious warfare and jungle fighting. There were detailed lectures on malaria, on assault landings, on the loading of ships so that high priority fighting cargo would reach the beaches first; maps of the Solomons began to be studied with more than usual interest. Then when official word did arrive (during the holiday at Thio) there was the big task of sorting all equipment into priorities, sending to base kit stores all unwanted personal gear, camouflaging web, and building crates. The pioneers under Lieutenant Waldegrave and Sergeant 'Chips' Giles gave a fine demonstration of mass production in the crate department, scores of pattenvmade boxes rolling off their assembly line with mathematical precision.

The advanced party left for Guadalcanal on 21 August. By this time we knew that the remainder of us were to travel on an American transport due to leave on 4 September. The days that followed were as busy as any in the battalion's long history of moves and transfers. Convoys night and day rolled down to Noumea, loaded with cargoes arranged in their particular priorities. Lights burned in battalion headquarters and the various quartermaster stores till late hours. Billeting parties, messing details, loading-parties—all moved south. Transport drivers were working overtime. Final nails were hammered into place. A rear party from base reception depot arrived to take over the camp.

Then the tents got wet. The commanding officer wanted to keep the battalion in its tents until the last possible moment, deciding to risk the rain over the last few hours. The rain won. It was necessary to dry the tents by 3 am, when the last convoy of equipment was timed to leave. The time was 8 pm and there were 5 3 wet tents. A contraption was concocted by someone's fertile imagination and erected in the Ymca. It would have made a picture for some demented artist trying to conjure up a vision of the 'Inferno'. From it belched masses of smoke; flames licked from the firebox; benzine drums, tied together with wire, formed a massive drying chimney. Through the murk of the billowing smoke, one could barely distinguish the figures of Lieutenant H. C. Wynyard and his helpers, as they laid out the tents over the chimney, one after another, 53 in all. It was a Heath Robinson contrivance of devilish appearance. But it worked, and at 3 am the tents went on the trucks.

There Was the final night in old Bouloupari when many men slept in L'Epicerie in the village, while the rest crowded into the huts that were left standing. Next day, 2 September, the final convoys rolled away, and at 2 pm that afternoon the battalion embarked on the American transport President Hayes in Noumea Harbour. For two days we lay at anchor, while we accustomed ourselves to the arnvstraining exercise of climbing the nets up the ship's side. Two landing practices were carried out with the assault boats. After lunch on 4 September, the convoy got underway and, under a blue sky and a bright sun, headed out through the reef and turned north.