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Chapter Fourteen
Traning for War

It will be readily apparent from the foregoing chapters that little time was available to engineer companies for field engineer-ing training. Nor indeed, in the light of later events, would such expenditure of time have been entirely justified. The role which the engineers played when actual fighting was encountered differed vastly from that of the engineers in the Middle East forces. The use of booby traps, land mines and other specialized field work was reduced to-a minimum; and the really valuable training was found to have been in the development of qualities of individual initiative and adaptability. A great deal of the works programme, however, put through in Fiji and elsewhere, provided in itself the necessary preparation for the field engineering. Confidence in the handling of explosives came more readily after weeks of shot-firing than through any number of formulae memorised for the destruction of bridges. Understanding of the effects of gelignite was often better obtained through using sand-bombs and making battle noises than by months of blackboard explanations.

While it might have appeared that solid infantry training given to the veterans in Papakura and Trentham was frittered away in the Fijian soapstone, there yet remained, even to the date of 3rd Div's demise, a nucleus of well trained sappers scattered throughout the corps. Among them there were those who could recall the pride-tickling voice of the announcer at the Auckland domain civic farewell, prior to Fiji, saying: 'The 20th Field Company is now taking the field' and every inflated chest went out a fraction further to make good marching reach the best bullring standards, until the band gave out. For route page 79marches, rifle and machine gun training, gas practices and recce reports, however, those same engineers in Fiji, at least, had little or no time. Parades with rifles were less frequent than parades with shovels, and even these were rendered negligible by the round-the-clock shifts made necessary by urgent works jobs. Thus it was that much training we received was 'on the job.'

It was early in January. 1941, that the first surveys of machine-gun coastal emplacements were carried out and work was commenced on the Suva perimeter defence scheme. This involved a line of tank-traps and anti-tank ditches with a six-foot high sea wall enclosing the whole of Suva Peninsula and incorporating natural features as much as possible. The line ran between 'Tamavua and Samambula Rivers to a five and a half mile peg on Princes Road. What is described officially as a 'protective stone wall' took priority on the jobs. This was the early stage of what developed into the 'great wall' of Suva, eight and a half miles of it. Its most outstanding run was across the gap between the New Zealand Club and the Grand Pacific Hotel, although many yards of concrete went into other sections of the promenade. An engineer cement store in Suva supplied the necessary and there was also a concrete mixer on which Fijian and Indian labour gangs vied bitterly with each other, egged on by sapper personnel. At one point of the wall a small outflow from the town drains ran across the seawall area and this led finally to the disastrous collapse of the six to seven foot anti-tank barrier right in its middle and right opposite the Government buildings. Legend has it that one small boy was overheard to say, 'We've been waiting for this wall for 25 years,' so our work was at least appreciated, if not from the useful point of view, then from the ornamental. As to its likely efficacy as a tank-stop, combined with natural features and MG posts, there appears to be little doubt, although there were, as always, scoffers.

A warm welcome would have greeted the invader from the gunpits. These were a standard type, carefully designed, and on both the right and left flanks of the proposed defence were put in with concrete and all needful revetting and camouflage. The gun position was first excavated and then the sap work carried out later so that sand bagging might be reduced to a minimum and so that the earthworks might be as little conspicuous as possible. Forty-four alarm positions in all were finally tabulated. Material page 80for these pits was largely obtained from the district engineer's junk heap, but improvisation was to be, a regular habit and came easily to engineers. Empty drums were cut down for sheet metal required, concrete pillboxes were demolished and rebuilt to fit into a Vickers MG arc of fire, unlimited spoil for limited sand-bags was obtained from Lami quarry, even pile-driving was used for some of the more select pill-boxes along the waterfront. Then when these were completed, road-blocks and tank-traps became the task. There were few vital corners in Suva which were not all set to go by the time we had finished. We were agreeably surprised at the manner in which residents stood up to the excitement of back door demolitions. To receive a cup of tea after a heavy crater charge had gone up, logs, sacks and stone together 50 feet in air, was a steadier for our nerves as well as for those of the Suva friends. Then under culverts and bridges, in vital points and not-so-vital points we laid charges and debated who would be the heroes to stay behind and blow them off.

The Namaka men of the 23rd Field were behind in no detail. ? Stand-to at dawn and dusk went on, at intervals, for many months. Revetments for MG and AA posts, carefully sited and concealed, were urgently produced in sandbag and donga stake, on account of the light soil. Prepared Malolo demolitions, explosives instruction at Natambua, endless sandbagging, revetting and concreting, excavating, wiring and boxing, all this was training, even if only for defence. Above all, the 'strong point' of the western area defence scheme, 'Black Rock' brigade battle headquarters, was an engineer monument. As from 4 February, 1942, the sappers tackled this job enthusiastically. The 'Rock', situated on a van-tage point above the Nandi plain, commanded the whole of the western area towards the sea. Underground, with a ceiling of some 10 feet made of bomb cushions and resisting slabs, was the main chamber, 32 feet by 22 feet and eight feet six inches high. The inside of the chamber was finished with 16 inch sand-bagged walls and cement spray, four smaller rooms were excavated and thus a central assembling point for administration purposes provided. Connecting tunnels, revetted with four inch timber rounds and up to seven feet high, continued into the hill and came out on the other side into observation posts. Materials for all this had to be taken up a steep hillside and the demand on material, owing to the rapid progress of the work, produced a page 81maximum effort from all sections of the unit on the job. The concrete mixer being on a lower level from the heavily rein-forced concrete ceiling it was necessary to use railway trucks, winch hauled, in order to pour something over 150 yards of concrete.

But we were not content with concreting alone. We had con-trol of wiring parties along the waterfront, around the wharves, and finally out into the depths of the mangrove swamps of the peninsula and Namaka beach defence areas. In the latter case the sugar cane was cut back a mile from the shore also. Along the tide line were wire belts on which the infantry worked. These were in 16 foot lengths with vertical sides of four feet six inches, six foot lateral and eight foot cross spacing. They helped to tangle the natural mangrove defences of the island most effectively. We had, on arrival, heard rumours of disaffected elements in Fiji, who might lurk in the mangroves or sugar cane waiting to knife us, so we refused to encourage the bright, hibiscus-crowned young ladies who hung about the working parties, and who used to say, fortunately not always in English, the most surprising things. To supplement the actual coastal lines of resistance we placed river booms—baulks of wood anchored to concrete blocks—in the Tamavua River, Gaol Creek, Walu Bay Creek, Leveti Creek, Vatuwangga Creek and Samambula River in that order. A Suva harbour mouth boom was also put in to supplement the existing submarine net. An outboard-motored boat, which usually hid in the mangroves behind Samambula camp, was used to reach these booms. Even officers of high rank who might abscond with this precious piece of equipment would come in for the heartiest abuse from the sappers who ran it. They, of course, found it useful for other purposes than concrete piles or river booms, and our first fish caught, but not with worms, were landed from this vessel. We added some £100,000 to the national debt by all the extra concrete we mixed—road-blocks, aeroplane stops, tank-traps, booms and defence roads. This figure may or may not include repairs to the concrete mixers we dropped in the tide and the denial of other invaluable resources to the enemy.

As a means of perpetuating local industry it was found that the local hibiscus or vau tree produced a bark which, when made into a net, would hide anything from an anti-aircraft battery complete with searchlight to a despatch rider's motor cycle. Knowing page 82this we entered with zest into the manufacture of van-bark nets. Each truck was provided with one all to itself and drivers learned slowly how to 'break the outline' with tastefully arranged bits of bamboo and other foliage. The more artistic among the sappers learned to stroll about with experts around the gun pits and with bits of rag and paint to make the most dazzling of camouflage. Even the blacksmith's shop was suitably adorned with brown and green facings and every possible encouragement given to mile-a-minute coverings for slit trenches and recent displays of soil activity.

It was an exciting day when the first Airacobras began to dash about from their Vuthimatha runway at Nausori. This looked a bit more like defence and our hearts wont up. Dutifully a few sappers got into their slit trenches but, emergency practice or no, the camp for the most part stood still and gaped into the heavens speculating about speeds and cheering the frightened natives. We learned later that theoretically we had all been wiped out, but we were borne up by the knowledge that we no longer relied upon the few antiquated machines on the Nandi drome to keep us in the picture. We had, moreover, seen to it that there was plenty of petrol for the planes now that they had come. We had dug Sealark into three beautifully rope-net camouflaged petrol stores to whose existence only the reclamation in Walu Bay bore silent witness. We had further helped to prepare, just below that same hill, an extra special petrol tank holding 30,000 gallons. This was of concrete, surrounded and covered with water. The tank was always full of liquid as when the petrol was drawn off water replaced it. The pressure of water outside the tank was thus effective in preventing any leakage of petrol through the concrete. When at last the American flying boats began to drop in on Lauthala Bay as a stage between Port Moresby and Pearl Harbour we knew that the Americans were not far away; and that from purely defensive measures we were at last moving to the attack.

The spasmodic gunplay and hikes to Albert Park which had characterized the workaday Toad Valley life in Fiji were now replaced by sterner training. We had spent long hot nights unloading ammunition and knew that, at last, there was some. The blue and purple hills of New Caledonia therefore had their echoes sent flying by sappers on the target and when jungle practices page 83were inaugurated we began to think that we might be 'going places 'after all. There were jungle ranges created with an imagination worthy of the best of haunted houses. Little yellow men swung out monkey-like across a clothes line with a whirr, or popped out from behind a niaouli with a nasty leer and a loud creaking sound. The sappers who operated the puppets ducked hastily in their dugouts as the jungle-shooters' rather wild shooting ricocheted from the bits of tin and board. We learned to wangle tommy guns and fired off our spite on ghastly representations of Staff, The Skull, Major Blank and Uncle Kooza, and that with at least six rounds a head. On Guadalcanal we stepped things up to 25 rounds a rifle and 170 rounds a tommy gun with a total of 10 rounds for the poor fellow who carried the 'elephant' anti-tank gun. These totals do not include the extra, such as pistol ammunition, which had been picked up or acquired when we ran across our allied buddies. We got right into the picture with the jungle ranges here and began to hope that if, by good luck, we lined a Jap in our sights, we might just hit him. On Mono and Vella we did a little more shooting, both discreet and indiscriminate. Pistol popping was a favourite pastime for many, especially for those who had laid in good stocks, but when we had to begin concentrating our fire on floating coconuts it was time to come home. The usual ranges were built, the 20th's seaward range, with coral shelf boardwalk, lending itself admirably to the purposes of those who preferred marine shells to army ones; and before it was liquidated by a high tide, it also afforded a magnificent view over the Vella Gulf towards Kolombangara, the Lord of the Ocean. From rifle practice to the grenade range was a short step. "Rocks and stones served their purpose from those earliest days when a dud grenade was still a hair-raising incident and involved almost a whole demolitions squad. We treasured very carefully and rather gingerly the two precious samples we were given on going north. The QM had a lot of worry giving them out and bringing them back into store and we wonder if murdered fish could have explained the discrepancies on WE. To improve our direction and enthuse the troops for this game one OC invented 'bomb golf.' For this nine holes were prepared and suitable scores arranged to be taken from where the 'bomb' grenade dropped. One hole contained a tin dummy which gave forth eerie sounds if the golfer got within five feet of it and page 84scored his bogey. A weekly prize of one dollar, side wagers limited to one packet of cigarettes, failed to make up for deficiencies at the nineteenth hole.

Route marches around the ricefields and down 'strategic lines of communication 'to swimming parades in Fiji were replaced by big parades for Free French days in Noumea or long walks through kilometres of chrome-coloured Koumac dust to see the brigadier. The final echo of the famous Trentham wail 'Any boots to be nailed? 'faded out in the fastnesses of Vella and Mono. There we walked softly over the coral and through the mangroves in our bottlegreen jungle boots only to startle from his stateliness the blue nankeen heron and to smile at the bunny, bob-tailed snipe.

Booby trapping, in spite of many an afternoon's stumbling among the gaiacs, did not prove the most productive line of training. As far as can be officially ascertained an odd land crab on Mono is about the only recorded victim of these weapons. If so, it was not for want of trying. There were at least hopeful indications about Falamai village that the Japs may have had to carry back a body or two from the trip wires. On Nissan we set a few booby traps across the native trails in the evening and removed them at first light; but owing to the large number of natives moving through the lines we ceased this on D plus one day, the score nil—nil. Types used both here and on Mono were the No. 4 trip mechanism or the No, 36 grenade with safety fuse replaced by instantaneous fuse. All this work, as with the use of landmines was, in the islands, subordinated to more ancient sapper behaviour without modern mechanical horrors. Sample landmines and training were indeed met with in Papakura after our return from Fiji. A wooden detector and other improvisations were interest-ing, instructive and not quite so dangerous as the real thing. The 37th Field Park put in better training while at Te Rapa and every man in the company helped to put down and pick up a live fused minefield. The Don R on one occasion nearly came to grief when, having eluded the guard on the training area, he thought the cries of 'Stop!' were demands for letters. The 26th Field, too, had considerable experience with these lethal weapons before they quitted the shores of New Zealand. One enthusiastic sergeant borrowed a model T Ford from a neighbouring farmer at Papakura for demonstration purposes. Towed through a minefield with the help of a winchtruck this car was returned to its owner page 85minus most of its front assembly and engine; but the farmer graciously refused to accept any payment, stating that it could be considered his war effort for the week.

There were too many skilled disposers of bombs who, having dodged the splinters flying on Moindah courses, considered them-selves equal to anything with a fuse on it. The fruit of their training came in the early clearances of Guadalcanal camp sites and later occasional urgent summonses for disposal when the air raiders had passed. As a result of this work, and for the guidance of souveniring sappers who would wander around old battle-grounds, some wonderful museum pieces were collected and dis-played.

Early training in spars, knots and lashings came in handy for model tank stands, with S tank complete, such as those erected for brigade displays and general utility purposes. It was handy, too, for tying up bridges and observation towers when the nails gave out. Flying foxes, other than those which chirred nightly over the cinemas and scrabbled horribly in the fruit trees, were flown over many a creek. We learned all about compasses—the ones which worked—and lost each other traversing the lantana and speargrass with one eye cocked on the tip of Ouazangou or Ouameni, a blue jagged crest against the New Caledonian skyline. We had lessons, too, in wireless telegraphy and some in semaphore. We sketched the graceful poplar lines of the bancoulier and the surrounding countryside through lorgnettes of cardboard and wire and we gauged inaccurately the slopes of the river banks.

But as the months of Caledonia slipped by we began to feel, particularly when amphibious training started, that at last we were getting something which would be useful in the picnic impending. Rope ladders thrown over the she-oak branches, miniature disembarkation nets erected on the banks of rivers, these things looked serious. The lurid stories of advanced party com-manders did not distract us unduly since, although we laughed at the Kiwi picture of lean, bronzed and hardy types, there was a greater feeling of confidence on the eve of operations than we could have thought possible in the dark days of 1941-42.

Von Tempsky's Forest Rangers of the Maori War would, it seems, have been born again in the Kaimais, ready again for their 'Bush and mountain warfare.'