III
4th Motor Ambulance Convoy

The 4th Motor Ambulance Convoy was conceived in January, 1941, but its period of gestation was long and anxious. It. was not until one year later that definite labour pains showed that the unit was not to be a stillborn child of the medical services. Captain E. T. Saunders was the officiating midwife, and, in his own peculiar way, slapped the infant into lusty life and severed the page 117connecting ties with the 10th Field Ambulance. The offspring was small, but its vigorous squawkings soon made all immediate neighbours aware of its existence. Fed on a typical army diet, it showed small increase in size until it was decided that red tape was a retarding influence. From the moment that this was eschewed from the diet it quickly gained strength and size until the encouraging figure of 53 all ranks, 15 ambulances, and one dog was announced as its official weight.

For 10 months the 4th MAC was stationed at Greytown, where the salubrious climate proved greatly beneficial to its general well-being. During this period we trained and absorbed all the information that the army insists on being taught in the fond delusion that it will be of use to soldiers overseas. Lieutenant R. H. Harrison was transport officer while we were in the Wairarapa, and he is remembered with affection. Later, Second-Lieutenant F. M. Hill succeeded to this onerous position.

About October, 1942, the powers above decided that such a well behaved child deserved no less a fate than to be allowed to grow to manhood in the tender care of the Third Division. After the usual indescribable confusion attending such events, the unit was safely conveyed to the scene of future operations, and the first motor ambulance convoy to leave New Zealand shores greeted its new home, La Nouvelle Caledonie, early in January, 1943. Those at home soon knew from our letters how we had voyaged through submarine-haunted, shark-infested waters; how we landed in morasses of mud at the grim and unwelcoming port of Nepoui; and how we eventually struggled to a halt at Moindah. Apart from the fact that we had no rations for three days, no transport and no homes, the boys were reasonably cheerful at the prospect of 'living dangerously.' The OC's habit of sleeping with a loaded tommy gun beside his bed made the night pickets avoid his tent as a plague spot. However, initial feelings of nervousness soon subsided, and those condemned to night wanderings decided that every niaouli tree did not harbour the cohorts of 'Tojo.'

The unit quickly settled into its routine of carrying the sick, the dying and the dead. Any spare time was fully occupied with - the never finished work of fatigues and camp building. Ambulance cars were stationed out with the field ambulances of the three brigades in the north, centre, and south of the island, and the 4th NZ General Hospital at Boguen Valley, at Bast Camp Reception Hospital at Tene Valley and at Noumea. Thus the page 118entire island was well serviced by our vehicles. During these early days the difficulty of replacement of vehicle parts, the really appalling condition of the roads and the considerable mileage travelled by the cars (32,000 miles in one peak monthly period) made it necessary for constant and careful checking of all vehicles to be maintained. The work of our mechanical staff. Sergeant Jack Mitchell and Drivers George Gillespie and Jim Bullock, and of the drivers in charge of vehicles cannot be too highly praised.

As we had travelled in New Caledonia early in January we did not have long to wait for the rainy season. The land became an endless series of mud swept vistas. Roads flooded so quickly that vehicles out on jobs were frequently marooned. Fortunately such conditions lasted for only two or three months, and thereafter one drove through a continuous haze of dust and more dust. The mosquito, too, was most annoying to the tenderly nurtured Kiwis, but we eventually accepted him along with the 'spam' and (chili con carne of the American ration. An ambitious drainage scheme, which we hoped would decimate the island's mosquito population, was put under way, but unfortunately was never carried to a conclusion.

At this stage, May, 1943, the authorities decided that the ideal site from which our motor ambulance convoy should direct operations was not Moindah; but from a hill covered with guava and maouli trees, infested with red ants and mosquitoes and liable to be isolated at certain seasons by flooding. So in our covered wagons we trekked south to Racecourse Camp at Tenc Valley the garden suburb of the NZEFIP in Necal. Here our growing pains began anew, but the result was a camp of which our new officer commanding, Captain R, G. G. Wilson, could and did frequently say, 'Home was never like this.' All worked extremely hard in making our camp the excellent one it was, but deserving of special mention are Driver Norm Benson, whose training with tne Akitio County Council resulted in a road and drainage system which withstood the onslaughts of wear and weather during our stay on the island; Driver Arthur Maulder, of mighty proportions, whose output of work was scarcely bettered by a bulldozer; Driver Tom Adamson, whose genius for adapting oil drums and ration cans provided many facilities which added to our comfort; Sergeant Jack Mitchell, whose buildings defied the hurricane of 18 January, 1944; and Private Les Stanbridge, page 119who could never find enough work to do nor an occasion which did not require a song.

When the general hospital removed to a site' in the Dumbea Valley, near Noumea, a section of the unit was attached to it there. Twelve cars made up this section, which was commanded successively by Corporal Noel Meek, Lieutenant Hill, and Corporal Ian Holford. Our vehicle strength by this time had increased to 40, of which 28 were ambulance cars. Unfortunately our personnel strength remained unchanged, and the secession of a comparatively large section to the 4th General necessitated much juggling of personnel to enable us to maintain a driver for each vehicle. Transporting sick and wounded New Zealanders and Fijians from sea and air ports to the hospital, transferring patients to the convalescent depot, and performing the hundred and one jobs required of ambulances by a hospital kept the section fully occupied. The men claimed that they were happy at this location because they were kept busy, but outside opinion maintained that the presence of Waacs and proximity to the flesh-pots of Noumea enhanced the 4th General's popularity.

The establishment of a further section at the convalescent depot and hospital at Kalavere (with Corporal. Phil Zillwood in charge) further depleted the numbers at our headquarters until at times the camp assumed the aspect of a ghost town haunted by an OC, our genial senior NCO, Staff-Sergeant Keith McMillan, our artist and quartermaster, Staff-Sergeant Dudley Petrie, the orderly room corporal, Bob Kennerley, and our inimitable cook, Private Hec Webber. The deficiencies in our numbers were, however, more than often balanced by an ever-increasing flow of visitors who had heard of the delicacies which emanated from Hec's kitchen.

Local news from our camp at Tene was supplied to our detached personnel by medium of a paper called The Sticks Chronicle. This contained all the latest peccadilloes of the boys, together with classified 'ads' and sporting news. Corporal Hec Gray was the editor, Corporal Kennerley publisher, and Sergeant Laurie Poynter was printer's devil. After many false starts, much 'acquiring,' and repeated advertisements for material in The Sticks Chronicle, the camp was eventually wired for electricity, power being supplied by courtesy of a neighbouring unit. The change-over from candles, kerosene and improvisation was a welcome one, and the long-wending way to the men's lines no page 120longer offered treacherous hazards to ensnare the weaving steps of the gay night reveller on his way to his tent. Jaundice, the true 'Yellow Peril' of the Pacific, struck heavily at our unit, and at one time, to the discomfiture of the several sisters in charge, the majority of inmates of one ward at 4th NZ General Hospital comprised members of the 4th MAC. Apart from this the general health of the unit remained at a high level throughout its service, and very few fell by the way through sickness. Firm favourite in the unit was our mascot, a parakeet named Joe E. Kiwi. At 20 months his command of language was showing distinct promise when, after a brawl with a hawk, from which, by better luck than superior tactics, Joe emerged victorious, he suddenly sickened. He was evacuated by ambulance to the hospital at Kalavere, where unfortunately, despite the best of attention, he died.

On Captain Wilson's transfer to Headquarters (Medical), NZEFIP, a veteran of action from the north, Captain J. G. Oliver, occupied the magisterial chair in the orderly room. About the same time Lieutenant Hill was transferred to a motor transport company and was replaced by Lieutenant A. Brown.

One of the chief occupations of all was the manufacture and discussion of rumours. Eventually the grand old man of rumours —-' I was speaking tc someone who knows someone who saw someone unloading crates of what someone said were battle-dress '—came true, and after 20 months of tropical dress we received a woolly outfit called, by courtesy, a battledress. A certain carnival spirit became manifest, and no one minded the inconvenience of gradually disappearing tent lines and telescoping of facilities.

The members of 4th Motor Ambulance Convoy embarked, with few regrets, late in August, 1944, and looked their last on their island overseas station which they had come to know so well. Unfortunately, after a furlough period had concluded, members of the unit were posted to their own districts in New Zealand, and the 4th MAC succumbed when the Third Division was wrecked on the rocks of military necessity. Thus ended a unit whose whole life was a happy one, whose members all appreciated their lot and made the most of good fellowship and company.

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