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Shovel Sword and Scalpel: A record of service of medical units of the second New Zealand expeditionary force in the Pacific

V — Homeward Bound

V
Homeward Bound

The trip to Noumea was uneventful—almost a pleasure cruise, except for the discipline necessary on all troopship transports. At Noumea we disembarked on to flat-top barges and were taken to a jetty where trucks were waiting. After eight months of seeing dark-skinned natives the European population, and especially the womenfolk, were refreshingly white.

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The camp site chosen for all divisional medical units was at Moindah, some 125 miles from Noumea. By nightfall the tired remnants of the field ambulance were housed in tents erected previously by an advanced party of the 22nd NZ Field Ambulance. New Caledonia was a cold place that night, for even though in the tropics it was far enough south of the Treasuries to make the difference in temperature appreciable.

In the days that followed we were employed in establishing a proper camp for ourselves and in preparing a site for the 24th NZ Field Ambulance against its arrival from Nissan. No great trouble was taken beyond minimum comforts, for there was an underlying feeling that our stay would not be long. The camp established, we gave ourselves over to combating the inevitable boredom of waiting and inactivity. The unit canteen did brisk business in selling anything that could conveniently be taken back to the folk at home. Canteen Manager Tasker was a busy man, with frequent buying tours to Noumea and likely French villages within range of the camp. On one occasion the citizens of Kone, a village some 40 miles north of Moindah, decided to do honour to the Kiwis. The festivities of the day consisted of a soccer match in the afternoon (the French wanted to play two one-hour spells !), followed by a dinner to the teams and a dance in the evening. Many leave trips were arranged to Noumea to the Kiwi Club at Bourail Beach and to the east coast beach of Houailou. The days passed somehow, anyhow—no one cared, just so long as they passed. Then came news of drafts to return home on furlough, and there was endless speculation as to who the lucky ones would be.

Early in August, 1944, our commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Stewart Hunter, was recalled to New Zealand by Army Headquarters, and when he left the 7th NZ Field Ambulance lost its best friend. His well earned OBE was acclaimed not only by past and serving members of the unit, but by all who knew him and his work. During early August, too, we packed equipment, closed the camp, and removed to the 2nd NZ Convalescent Depot at Kalavere, there to await advice that we were to embark. Came 14 August, 1944, and, after a long and dusty trip beginning in the early hours of the morning, we reached Noumea and saw our transport—a Dutch ship, the Torrens. That she did not look pre-possessing did not for the moment worry us, for she was to take us home, and a dirty, rusty, leaky, wallowing tramp would page 39have done—or so we claimed up till the first day out. The trip proved to be a nightmare, and even though New Zealand lay just ahead there were many of us who felt that we would cheerfully forego all the joys of homecoming if only the ship would settle on an even keel and stay settled. Despite our wretchedness, however, we survived till Thursday, 18 August, 1944, when the Torrens docked at Auckland.

Papakura Camp again—but this time, somehow, a different Papakura. Leave was organised for us with breath-taking rapidity. So there were occasions when the army could move with reasonable speed. That very night Auckland personnel were in their homes.

And this was the end of the 7th NZ Field Ambulance. The unit was not again reassembled, and it only remained for Quarter-master Martin and his staff to complete the unenviable job of satisfying the taxpayers of New Zealand, through the Government auditors, that we had not willfully nor unreasonably lost or disposed of our equipment and stores. Some of us have, perhaps, felt disappointment that a unit which had seen four years' Pacific service—honourable service, too—should end its life in such a casual, unheralded manner—like the legendary old soldier, simply fading away. But we know that in the hearts of hundreds of New Zealanders who served with the 7th NZ Field Ambulance at different times there will always be a warm place; and that is worth much more than any plaudits, much more than any epitaph or funeral oration.