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            <figDesc>Front Cover</figDesc>
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            <figDesc>Spine</figDesc>
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            <figDesc>Title Page</figDesc>
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      <div xml:id="f1" type="halftitle">
        <head>22 Battalion</head>
        <p/>
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            <head>German Tiger tank captured at <name key="name-001273" type="place">La Romola</name>, <date when="1944-07-31">31 July 1944</date></head>
            <figDesc>Black and white photograph of army officers sitting on a tank</figDesc>
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      <pb xml:id="niii" n="iii"/>
      <titlePage xml:id="_N65816" rend="center">
        <docTitle>
          <titlePart type="main"><hi rend="i">Official History of New Zealand<lb/>
in the Second World War 1939–45</hi><lb/>
22 Battalion</titlePart>
        </docTitle>
        <byline>
          <docAuthor rend="center">
            <name key="name-110133" type="person">Jim HENDERSON</name>
          </docAuthor>
        </byline>
        <docImprint rend="center">
          <publisher><name key="name-110027" type="organisation">WAR HISTORY BRANCH</name><lb/>
DEPARTMENT OF INTERNAL AFFAIRS</publisher>
          <pubPlace><name key="name-008844" type="place">WELLINGTON</name>, NEW ZEALAND</pubPlace>
          <docDate>
            <date when="1958">1958</date>
          </docDate>
          <pb xml:id="niv" n="iv"/>
          <hi rend="sc">printed and distributed by<lb/>
<name key="name-002884" type="organisation">WHITCOMBE AND TOMBS LTD.</name><lb/>
christchurch auckland wellington dunedin<lb/>
hamilton lower hutt timaru invercargill<lb/>
london melbourne sydney perth geelong</hi>
        </docImprint>
      </titlePage>
      <pb xml:id="nv" n="v"/>
      <div xml:id="f3" type="extract">
        <p rend="indent">Out of all this comes I think a humbleness towards those chaps 
attended in their first moments, an awareness of knowing that they 
always put on a very brave front and conveyed so much in a look 
or simple gesture when given that first attention and a cigarette, 
and invariably never to acknowledge the possibility of a ‘homer’: 
the hardest part seemed to be having to leave mates behind-that 
thought of return.</p>
        <p rend="right">—Mick (‘Doc’) Bradford, 22 Battalion stretcher-bearer</p>
        <p rend="indent">Men will even give their lives if only the ordeal does not last long 
but is soon over, with all looking on and applauding as though on 
the stage. But active love is labour and fortitude, and for some people 
too, perhaps, a complete science.</p>
        <p rend="right">—Dostoevsky (<hi rend="i">The Brothers Karamazov</hi>)</p>
        <p rend="indent">The faith in the heart of a mustard seed is the faith of a mustard 
tree, the force in the heart of a drop of water is the force of a waterfall. And when one hopes, all mankind hopes with him. For I am 
all mankind and I am in every man.</p>
        <p rend="right">—V. Anant (<hi rend="i">Birth of the Lord</hi>)</p>
        <pb xml:id="nvi" n="vi"/>
        <p>The authors of the volumes in this series of histories prepared under 
the supervision of the <name key="name-110027" type="organisation">War History Branch</name> of the Department of 
Internal Affairs have been given full access to official documents. 
They and the Editor-in-Chief are responsible for the statements 
made and the views expressed by them.</p>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="nvii" n="vii"/>
      <div xml:id="f4" type="foreword">
        <head>Foreword</head>
        <p>
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            <head>
              <hi rend="sc">windsor castle</hi>
            </head>
            <figDesc>Black and white picture of an army emblem</figDesc>
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        </p>
        <p rend="center">
          <hi rend="sc">by <name key="name-207994" type="person">lieutenant-general the lord freyberg</name>, 
vc, gcmg, kcb, kbe, dso</hi>
        </p>
        <p><hi rend="sc">It</hi> is a great pleasure to be able to write a foreword to the 
history of the 22nd Infantry Battalion.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The 22nd Battalion came overseas with the <name key="name-000815" type="organisation">Second Echelon</name> 
at the time of the overthrow of <name key="name-008009" type="place">France</name>. It was shipped to 
England and took an active part in the Battle of Britain. Towards the end of <date when="1940">1940</date>, when the threat of invasion was past, 
the 5th New Zealand Brigade came back by sea and arrived 
in the <name key="name-005853" type="place">Middle East</name> early in <date when="1941-03">March 1941</date>, just in time to join 
up with the rest of the New Zealand Division and take part 
in the campaign in <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>. This campaign ended quickly, and 
after evacuation from the beaches near <name key="name-000608" type="place">Athens</name> the Battalion 
was taken to <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name>, where it fought right through the short 
campaign. The Battalion was given the most difficult task of 
all, to try to hold the <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> airfield.</p>
        <p rend="indent">After Crete had fallen, the Battalion took part in a series of 
successful actions in the Libyan campaign (<date when="1941">1941</date>) in the operations about <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> and in the advance to <name key="name-003648" type="place">Gazala</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">After that campaign the Division moved to <name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name> and stayed 
there until the middle of <date when="1942-06">June 1942</date>, when it moved back to 
the <name key="name-024430" type="place">Western Desert</name> and took an active part in the defence of 
Egypt. The 22nd suffered heavy casualties when it was overrun by the <hi rend="i">15th Panzer Division</hi> at <name key="name-001291" type="place">Ruweisat Ridge</name>. It fought
<pb xml:id="nviii" n="viii"/>
again with distinction at Alam Haifa and <name key="name-010927" type="place">Alamein</name>. It was then 
decided to turn the 4th Brigade into an Armoured Brigade, 
and the 22nd Battalion was converted into a Motor Battalion. 
It came across to <name key="name-001383" type="place">Italy</name> with the rest of the Division and had 
a long record of fighting in the Italian campaign.</p>
        <p rend="indent">At the end of <date when="1944">1944</date>, with the end of the war in sight, the 
Division was short of infantry, and the 22nd Battalion was reconverted into an infantry battalion and formed part of the 
9th New Zealand Infantry Brigade. It fought with distinction 
near <name key="name-001263" type="place">Rimini</name>, at <name key="name-000830" type="place">Faenza</name>, and in the very successful battles that 
ended the war in <name key="name-001383" type="place">Italy</name>, where it attacked and fought from the 
<name key="name-027664" type="place">Senio</name> right through to <name key="name-001410" type="place">Trieste</name>. The Battalion then went with 
J Force to <name key="name-002006" type="place">Japan</name>, where it was disbanded.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The Battalion had a series of very capable Commanding 
Officers, who led it with great dash and skill. Colonel Andrew, 
VC, brought the Battalion from New Zealand and stayed with 
it all through <date when="1941">1941</date>. He was succeeded by Colonel John Russell, 
who was killed at Alam Haifa, Colonels Campbell, Donald and 
O'Reilly, who commanded the Battalion with distinction.</p>
        <p rend="indent">This excellent history tells a story which should be widely 
read. I hope it will have the success that it deserves.</p>
        <closer><signed rend="right"><hi><figure xml:id="WH2-22Baviiia"><graphic url="WH2-22Baviiia.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22Baviiia-g"/><figDesc>Black and white picture of a signature</figDesc></figure></hi></signed><salute rend="right">Deputy Constable and Lieutenant-Governor</salute>,<lb/><mentioned><address rend="right"><addrLine><name key="name-027101" type="place">Windsor Castle</name></addrLine></address><date when="1956-11-07">7 November 1956</date></mentioned></closer>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="nix" n="ix"/>
      <div xml:id="f5" type="preface">
        <head>Preface</head>
        <p><hi rend="sc">The</hi> author, on ending his two and a half years' task and all 
too conscious of so many brave men and acts unrecorded, 
wishes particularly to thank Brigadier Andrew, VC, Colonel 
A. W. O'Reilly, Majors Stan Johnson, R. E. Johnston, Bob 
Knox, Keith Hutcheson, Len Turner, and Captain E. B. 
Paterson, Padres Thorpe, Champion, Martin Sullivan and Sergel; 
R. R. Foreman, Mick Bradford, Bart Cox, Stewart Nairn, Lloyd 
Grieve, George Orsler, Bob Grant, Ian Ferguson, John Collins, 
Doug George, C. H. Stone, and many others for ungrudging 
and generous help; Tom De Lisle (unit historian, who blazed 
a brave preliminary trail through a jungle of war diaries); 
branches and officials of the 22 Battalion Association (especially 
Taranaki); the anonymous war diarist who covered the <name key="name-010927" type="place">Alamein</name> 
attack; the understanding and patient Editor-in-Chief and staff 
of the <name key="name-110027" type="organisation">War History Branch</name>; and ‘my wife Jill who stoically endured every campaign of the Battalion.’</p>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="nx" n="x"/>
      <pb xml:id="nxi" n="xi"/>
      <div xml:id="f6" type="contents">
        <head>Contents</head>
        <p>
          <table rows="24" cols="3">
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell/>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">page</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">foreword</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">vii</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">preface</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">ix</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>1</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">these were the men</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n1">1</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>2</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">maleme, crete</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n34">34</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>3</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">libya, <date when="1941">1941</date></hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n84">84</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>4</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">into <date when="1942">1942</date> and syria</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n131">131</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>5</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">minqar qaim</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n148">148</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>6</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">disaster on ruweisat</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n162">162</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>7</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">alamein</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n185">185</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>8</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">to italy</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n219">219</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>9</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">across the sangro</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n234">234</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>10</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">cassino</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n265">265</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>11</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">la romola</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n305">305</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>12</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">adriatic</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n337">337</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>13</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">casa elta</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n384">384</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>14</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">‘hell of a crack’</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n413">413</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>15</cell>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">japan</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n450">450</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">appendix: rugby memories</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n461">461</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">roll of honour</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n467">467</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">summary of casualties</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n474">474</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">honours and awards</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n475">475</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">commanding officers</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n476">476</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="sc">index</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n477">477</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
          </table>
        </p>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="nxii" n="xii"/>
      <div xml:id="f7" type="illustration">
        <head>List of Illustrations</head>
        <p>
          <table rows="66" cols="2">
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">Frontispiece</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>German Tiger tank captured at <name key="name-001273" type="place">La Romola</name>, <date when="1944-07-31">31 July 1944</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">NZ Army (G. F. Kaye)</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="i">Following page <ref target="#n68">68</ref></hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Original officers of 22 Battalion</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">L. W. Andrew collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><name key="name-000815" type="organisation">Second Echelon</name> men parade for showers, <name key="name-026686" type="place">Trentham</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">C. Boyer</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><name key="name-401558" type="person">Borax</name>, the unit's mascot, on parade in England</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">A. H. De Lisle</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Sir Cyril Newall inspects 22 Battalion in England,
<date when="1940-12">December 1940</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">L. W. Andrew collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Looking east from the exit of the gorge on the eastern
side of <name key="name-001364" type="place">Olympus Pass</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">
                  <name key="name-004130" type="person">W. G. McClymont</name>
                </hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>: a troop train moves through the mountains towards the front<lb/>
Looking towards <name key="name-001184" type="place">Mount Olympus</name> from <name key="name-014235" type="place">Dholikhi</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">C. W. Hawkins</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>The evacuation from <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>—5 Brigade troops on HMS</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">
                  <name key="name-207116" type="ship">Glengyle</name>
                </hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>German planes burning on <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> airfield</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">E. K. S. Rowe</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Aerial photograph of <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> airfield</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">British Official</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>German troops waiting to embark for <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">Captured German film</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><name key="name-000935" type="place">Helwan</name>, <date when="1941-07">July 1941</date>: Lieutenant-Colonel L. W. Andrew and
his battalion on return from <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">NZ Army</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Bringing in German wounded, <date when="1941-11">November 1941</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">G. Silk</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Captured members of B Company at <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">German film, G. Order collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Bren carrier with German machine gun, <name key="name-003648" type="place">Gazala</name>,
<date when="1941-12">December 1941</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">W. C. Hart collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Lieutenant W. C. Hart, Les Murphy and Jack Weir rest on
the way back from <name key="name-003648" type="place">Gazala</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">W. C. Hart collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Playing cards under the olive trees at <name key="name-015859" type="place">Haifa</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">Rev. T. E. Champion collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>17 Platoon's camp on the <name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name>-<name key="name-008587" type="place">Turkey</name> border</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">D. R. Hodgson collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <pb xml:id="nxiii" n="xiii"/>
            <row>
              <cell>Captain Fred Oldham shaving in the Syrian desert</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">A. H. De Lisle</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>22 Battalion digs in at <name key="name-001096" type="place">Minqar Qaim</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">W. A. Whitlock</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>A meal at <name key="name-026303" type="place">Kaponga</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">A. H. De Lisle</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Sgt Keith Elliott, VC</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">NZ Army (H. Paton)</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Troops debus the day before the attack on
<name key="name-001291" type="place">Ruweisat Ridge</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">R. M. Jaspers collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><name key="name-207994" type="person">General Freyberg</name> joins Captain MacDuff and members
of B Company in a mug of tea, <date when="1942-10-26">26 October 1942</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">C. F. Whitty collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Tanks burning on <name key="name-004302" type="place">Miteiriya Ridge</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">C. F. Whitty collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Unloading supplies at <name key="name-001351" type="place">Sollum</name>, <date when="1942-11">November 1942</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">C. F. Whitty collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Moving through the minefield at Siwa Road, November
<date when="1942">1942</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">C. F. Whitty collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>22 Battalion Pipe Band, <name key="name-004262" type="place">Maadi</name>, <date when="1943">1943</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">R. Moody collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>22 Battalion prisoners of war at Stalag VIIIB</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">L. Pahl</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Officers of 22 (Motor) Battalion, <name key="name-004262" type="place">Maadi</name>, <date when="1943-06">June 1943</date></cell>
              <cell/>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Mess queue during the march from <name key="name-004262" type="place">Maadi</name> to Burg el Arab,
<date when="1943-09">September 1943</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">I. Ford</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="i">Following page <ref target="#n268">268</ref></hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>‘Biwies’ at Burg el Arab</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">J. Lewis collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Going ashore at <name key="name-001375" type="place">Taranto</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">NZ Army (G. F. Kaye)</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Aerial view of the crossroads to <name key="name-000743" type="place">Castelfrentano</name> and
<name key="name-000919" type="place">Guardiagrele</name> in the <name key="name-016486" type="place">Sangro River</name> area, <date when="1944-01">January 1944</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">NZ Army (G. F. Kaye)</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Brigadier Inglis chats with members of 2 Company
at <name key="name-001295" type="place">Salarola</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">A. H. De Lisle</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>8 Platoon, I Company, just out of <name key="name-001638" type="place">Cassino</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">J. C. Cullimore collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>12 Platoon</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">A. H. De Lisle</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Snow-capped Monte Cairo and the Monastery guard
the junction of the <name key="name-120138" type="place">Liri</name> and Rapido valleys</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">F. H. Williams collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>The courtyard of the castle at <name key="name-010677" type="place">Vicalvi</name>, <date when="1944-06">June 1944</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">NZ Army (G. F. Kaye)</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>
                <name key="name-001273" type="place">La Romola</name>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">C. S. Barnden collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <pb xml:id="nxiv" n="xiv"/>
            <row>
              <cell>Point 361—the battalion's final objective in the advance
to <name key="name-000842" type="place">Florence</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">C. S. Barnden collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>12 Platoon before the move to the Adriatic</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">A. H. De Lisle</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>I. F. Thompson receives a wireless message, <name key="name-001263" type="place">Rimini</name>,
<date when="1944-09">September 1944</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">NZ Army (G. F. Kaye)</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>
                <hi rend="i">Following page <ref target="#n300">300</ref></hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>D. Charlwood prepares a meal near <name key="name-001263" type="place">Rimini</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">NZ Army (G. F. Kaye)</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Panther turret captured by 22 Battalion near <name key="name-001263" type="place">Rimini</name>,
<date when="1944-09">September 1944</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">P. W. Hector</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>22 Battalion rugby team which won the Freyberg Cup,
<date when="1944-12">December 1944</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">NZ Army (G. Bull)</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>A village priest brings in refugees from German-occupied<lb/>
areas near <name key="name-000830" type="place">Faenza</name>, <date when="1944-12">December 1944</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">NZ Army (G. F. Kaye)</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>D Company headquarters, <date when="1945-01">January 1945</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">Unit photographer</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>A machine gun covers the <name key="name-027664" type="place">Senio</name> stopbank,
<date when="1945-01">January 1945</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">P. W. Hector</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>The attack across the <name key="name-028451" type="place">Senio River</name> begins,
<date when="1945-04-09">9 April 1945</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">NZ Army (G. F. Kaye)</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>QM trucks at <name key="name-001077" type="place">Massa Lombarda</name>, <date when="1945-04">April 1945</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">R. Costello</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Don Horn, Sid Benson and Major Reg Spicer with a
mortar captured at the Reno River, <date when="1945-04">April 1945</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">K. J. MacKenzie collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Ferrying trucks across the <name key="name-120192" type="place">Piave</name>, <date when="1945-04">April 1945</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">R. Costello</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>German prisoners pushing their vehicles near <name key="name-001410" type="place">Trieste</name>, <date when="1945-05">May 1945</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">NZ Army (G. F. Kaye)</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>C Company parades in <name key="name-001410" type="place">Trieste</name>, <date when="1945-05">May 1945</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">R. Costello</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>22 Battalion controlling the Japanese repatriation centre at <name key="name-011565" type="place">Senzaki</name><lb/>
Resting during manoeuvres, <date when="1946-11">November 1946</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">22 Battalion War Diary</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>
                <name type="person" key="name-002034">Lt-Col J. T. Russell</name>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">Rev. T. E. Champion collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Lt-Col T. C. Campbell</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">NZ Army</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Lt-Col D. G. Steele</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">D. G. Steele collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Lt-Col H. V. Donald</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">NZ Army (G. F. Kaye)</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Lt-Col A. F. W. O'Reilly</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">A. F. W. O'Reilly collection</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Lt-Col W. B. Thomas</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">NZ Army (G. F. Kaye)</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
          </table>
        </p>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="nxv" n="xv"/>
      <div xml:id="f8" type="map">
        <head>List of Maps</head>
        <p>
          <table rows="29" cols="2">
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">Facing page</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>
                <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n1">1</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>
                <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n35">35</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Egypt and <name key="name-003430" type="place">Cyrenaica</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n101">101</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Central and Eastern Mediterranean</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n135">135</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>
                <name key="name-010927" type="place">El Alamein</name>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n169">169</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Southern Italy</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n235">235</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Northern Italy</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n301">301</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell rend="center">
                <hi rend="i">In text</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell/>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell rend="right">
                <hi rend="i">Page</hi>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><name key="name-001364" type="place">Olympus Pass</name> positions, 5 Brigade, <date when="1941-04">April 1941</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n12">12</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Fifth Brigade, <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>, <date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n36">36</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>5 Brigade positions around <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>, <date when="1941-11">November 1941</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n101">101</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>The Attack on <name key="name-003648" type="place">Gazala</name>, 12-16 December 1941</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n125">125</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Eastern Mediterranean</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n135">135</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><hi rend="i"><name key="name-000874" type="organisation">21 Panzer Division</name></hi> encircles Minqar Qjaim, <date when="1942-06-27">27 June 1942</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n151">151</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><name key="name-001291" type="place">Ruweisat Ridge</name>, dawn <date when="1942-07-15">15 July 1942</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n171">171</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><name key="name-004302" type="place">Miteiriya Ridge</name>, 5 and 6 Brigade positions, dawn <date when="1942-10-24">24 October 1942</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n202">202</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><name key="name-016486" type="place">Sangro River</name>-<name key="name-001187" type="place">Orsogna</name> area, November ig43-<date when="1944-01">January 1944</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n241">241</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><name key="name-001295" type="place">Salarola</name> junction, <date when="1943-12-02">2 December 1943</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n249">249</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>
                <name key="name-001638" type="place">Cassino</name>
              </cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n269">269</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>The Advance to <name key="name-000842" type="place">Florence</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n308">308</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <pb xml:id="nxvi" n="xvi"/>
            <row>
              <cell>Attack on <name key="name-011423" type="place">Monticelli</name>, <date when="1944-09-14">14 September 1944</date></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n342">342</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Advance to Rio Fontanaccia, 23-24 September 1944</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n359">359</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>From the Fontanaccia to the <name key="name-120176" type="place">Uso</name>, 24-26 September 1944</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n366">366</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>4 Armoured Brigade's attack to the <name key="name-026597" type="place">Savio</name>, 19-20 October 1944</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n377">377</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><name key="name-011039" type="place">Casa Elta</name> attack, <date when="1944-12-15">15 December 1944</date>, and advance to the <name key="name-027664" type="place">Senio</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n394">394</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>From the <name key="name-027664" type="place">Senio</name> to the <name key="name-120179" type="place">Adige</name>, 9-27 April 1945</cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n422">422</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>From Padua to San Dona di <name key="name-120192" type="place">Piave</name></cell>
              <cell rend="right">
                <ref target="#n433">433</ref>
              </cell>
            </row>
          </table>
        </p>
        <p rend="center">
          <hi rend="i">The occupations given in the biographical footnotes are those on enlistment. 
The ranks are those held on discharge or at the date of death.</hi>
        </p>
        <p>
          <figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP002a">
            <graphic url="WH2-22BaP002a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP002a-g"/>
            <head>
              <name key="name-002294" type="place">GREECE</name>
            </head>
            <figDesc>Coloured map of <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name></figDesc>
          </figure>
        </p>
      </div>
    </front>
    <body xml:id="t1-body">
      <pb xml:id="n1" n="1"/>
      <div xml:id="c1" type="chapter">
        <head>CHAPTER 1<lb/>
These Were the Men</head>
        <p><hi rend="sc">This</hi>, after all their travelling, was the most important 
voyage of the lot—the voyage to <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>. Twenty-second 
Battalion was sick of ships, tired of delays and rumours and 
endless route marches and moving on again, impatient of other 
men (sailors, airmen) protecting them, fighting the war for 
them. Now they had crossed the <name key="name-007453" type="place">Mediterranean</name> to <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>, a 
crowded train had taken them far into the north, and as the 
Germans struck from the vassal state of <name key="name-018182" type="place">Bulgaria</name>, they moved 
quickly into the mountains, into the woods and shadows of 
<name key="name-001364" type="place">Olympus Pass</name>. They prepared defences as best they could 
(barbed wire, weapon pits, a few mines) and shortly before 
midnight on <date when="1941-04-14">14 April 1941</date> they heard a faint echo and throb 
which grew and surged into a roar of engines as the enemy 
came up the road to <name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">They were about to become infantrymen. This time, nobody 
would be in front.</p>
        <p rend="indent">I would like to tell of the days in <name key="name-001409" type="place">Trentham Camp</name>, when 
<name key="name-010935" type="person">Lieutenant-Colonel Andrew</name>, VC,<note xml:id="fn1-1" n="1"><p><name key="name-010935" type="person">Brig L. W. Andrew</name>, VC, DSO, m.i.d.; <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>; born Ashhurst, <date when="1897-03-23">23 Mar 1897</date>; Regular soldier; Wellington Regt 1915-19; CO 22 Bn Jan 1940-Feb 1942;
comd <name key="name-001162" type="organisation">5 Bde</name> 27 Nov-6 Dec 1941; Area Commander, <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>, <date from="1943-11" to="1946-12">Nov 1943-Dec 1946</date>; Commander, Central Military District, Apr 1948-Mar 1952.</p></note> addressing the first parade 
of his battalion, said: ‘My name is Andrew: A-N-D-R-E-W. 
There is no “s”. And I'm the boss.’ How men would watch 
their officers, rather pale in the face and obviously shaken, 
leaving the Colonel's midday conferences. <name key="name-010935" type="person">Colonel Andrew</name> was 
a strict (too strict, some say) disciplinarian; he saw to it that 
his battalion drilled and route-marched like no other battalion 
in <name key="name-004368" type="organisation">2 NZEF</name>. Right from the start this tall, lean man with a 
stiff black moustache was determined that his battalion would 
be welded into a unit (‘22nd. <hi rend="i">Vrai et Forte!</hi> Second to None’), 
armed with what scanty weapons we had in those early days, 
and doubly armed with the armour of self-discipline.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n2" n="2"/>
        <p rend="indent">And soon they were calling him ‘February’ because of his 
automatic sentence when rules were broken: ‘28 days’ detention’.</p>
        <p rend="indent"><name key="name-026686" type="place">Trentham</name>: the first big step: the foundation for what was 
to follow: ‘that air of adventure and great things to come 
period of life’. Then gradually, very gradually, getting further 
away from home and nearer the enemy through weeks of sailing, 
marching, or being mucked about, then maybe a distant air 
raid or war damage, then the sound of artillery in the distance, 
gradually getting closer, then seeing the first enemy shell 
land….</p>
        <p rend="indent">The men found <name key="name-026686" type="place">Trentham</name> ‘so suddenly different from what 
I had been used to: the place which created the atmosphere 
in which we were to live for so long. The general expression 
of chaps going into camp (“We're in the army now, so—'em 
all”)—those laughs we had at PT—the first roll calls and 
one-stop-two—mess parades and growling about the food— 
learning to salute and say “sir”—quiet talks by our brand 
new N.C.O.'s: “You do the right thing by us chaps and 
Corporal X— and I will see you right”—the early risers 
roundly cursed, the man with “that terrible laugh of his”, the 
sleeper who ground his teeth horribly—all that folding blankets, 
polishing brass and rushing to get on parade in the morning 
—the tremendous indecision whether greatcoats would be 
carried and groundsheets worn or <hi rend="i">vice versa</hi>—the RSM's voice 
—the bullring (“Never walk across there, it's sacred ground 
and it would be more than your life is worth”)—picking up 
paper and cigarette butts on cold mornings—… arms inspections—the first day on the rifle range (some hit the target and 
some didn't)—fatigues—final leave—vaccinations—exploring 
the ship—looking at Mount Egmont fading in the distance 
(it was the last we saw of New Zealand) and wondering how 
long before we would see it again, that's if….’</p>
        <p rend="indent">I would like to tell of the voyage to <name key="name-005976" type="place">Britain</name>, defiant and 
alone (but all voyages are the same)<note xml:id="fn1-2" n="2"><p>Yet this 5th Reinforcement troopship memory shows the link across the years:
‘The OC Troops was Col. Turnbull, an old Dig whose pet aversion was long hair.
After one particularly sarcastic lecture he rocked the whole show by referring to
many as “Enaus”—talk about a flap—never heard that one before—much speculation until eventually a definition came up: “A woolly looking animal with long
matted hair, probably lousy.” The reaction was terrific and in a matter of hours
every conceivable sort of hairdo appeared—bald types, top-knots, cowlicks and
some furrowed like a ploughed field. Col. Turnbull was OK though, and I well
remember on disembarkation at <name key="name-033008" type="place">Tewfik</name>, as he was standing watching us pull away
in the barges a wag sang out: “Hooray, Enau.” The old boy lifted a hand and his
emotion was evident to all and had a sobering effect—his own memories probably
of similar circumstances 27 years before.’</p></note>; of the English hospitality
<pb xml:id="n3" n="3"/>
and the church of Hollingbourne in <name key="name-008315" type="place">Kent</name>, where the vicar, 
<name key="name-011461" type="person">Rev. E. A. Norman</name>, hung the battalion flag, and it hangs there 
still today; of the German armada winging in over <name key="name-008315" type="place">Kent</name> as the 
Battle of <name key="name-005976" type="place">Britain</name> opened, and the battalion waiting on the 
coast by <name key="name-027589" type="place">Maidstone</name> for the invasion which never came; of the 
night when the battalion suffered its first casualties in a bombing raid when Ian <name key="name-011257" type="person">Holms</name><note xml:id="fn1-3" n="3"><p><name key="name-011257" type="person">Pte I. S. G. Holms</name>; born <name key="name-035938" type="place">Featherston</name>, <date when="1913-08-27">27 Aug 1913</date>; nurseryman; killed in action <date when="1940-10-27">27 Oct 1940</date>.</p></note> was killed and three others wounded; 
and of the long voyage, past the Cape of Good Hope again, 
to three brief weeks in <name type="place">Egypt</name> before embarking for <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">But all this was preparing for war—an elusive war which 
seemed to sidestep the battalion. This would take up many 
pages, which instead will go to longer descriptions of the battalion in battle, and what men remember there. For a battalion's task is to fight, a battalion is a battle-axe in the very 
forefront of the fray, and the infantryman's lot is privation, 
great bleak stretches of boredom and wasted time, danger, 
fatigue, teamwork. And great pain cannot be described: the 
mind will not remember.</p>
        <p rend="indent"><name key="name-010935" type="person">Colonel Andrew</name> had learned all this the hard way, first as 
a lance-corporal in the First World War when he won the 
Victoria Cross at Warneton Road, near Messines. Leading two 
sections, he seized a machine gun and charged on to take a 
second machine gun. Then, taking a private with him, he went 
on another 300 yards to take a third machine-gun post and a 
nearby strongpoint in the cellar of an inn called ‘In Der 
Rooster Cabaret’. After the war he served with a British regiment in <name key="name-005952" type="place">India</name> and became a Regular soldier in the New Zealand Army. With his route marches, his curt ‘28 days’, his insistence on discipline—discipline—discipline (although his 
successor, Lieutenant-Colonel <name key="name-002034" type="person">Russell</name>,<note xml:id="fn2-3" n="4"><p><name key="name-002034" type="person">Lt-Col J. T. Russell</name>, DSO, m.i.d.; born Hastings, <date when="1904-11-11">11 Nov 1904</date>; farmer; 2 i/c
Div Cav <date when="1941">1941</date>; CO 22 Bn 7 Feb-6 Sep 1942; wounded <date when="1941-05">May 1941</date>; killed in
action <date when="1942-09-06">6 Sep 1942</date>.</p></note> would win devotion 
from a totally different outlook), Colonel Andrew worked for
<pb xml:id="n4" n="4"/>
(or demanded) ‘that pride in unit’ which would create a particular spirit of its own, a collective strength and unity which 
can be spoken about by many but which can be known only 
by the rifleman.<note xml:id="fn1-4" n="5"><p>Out of a battalion numbering about 32 officers and 740 men, only about 350, or
less than half, actually went forward with rifle and bayonet, automatic weapons,
radio set, and first-aid equipment.</p></note> It would lead to an officer speaking with a 
jealous possessiveness of ‘my boys’, so that certain officers, lying 
freshly wounded in hospital, would be as merry as crickets until 
the news came: ‘The Battalion's going in.’ Then they would 
fall silent, wondering if the men who had taken their places 
would be sufficiently shrewd, would not underestimate the cunning German, would take full care of ‘<hi rend="i">my</hi> boys’. And at times, 
all through the restless night, these men would cry out or mutter 
encouragement, warnings and advice as once more they led 
their men forward in their sleep.</p>
        <p rend="indent">It would lead to a man jumping on to a grenade to lose his 
life in attempting to save his companions; it would carry a 
man forward when mentally and physically he was utterly 
incapable of further exertion. When Captain <name key="name-001474" type="person">Young</name><note xml:id="fn2-4" n="6"><p><name key="name-001474" type="person">Lt-Col R. R. T. Young</name>, DSO; <name key="name-006412" type="place">Richmond</name>, England; born <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>, <date when="1902-06-25">25 Jun 1902</date>; oil company executive; CO <name key="name-011450" type="organisation">School of Instruction</name> Feb-Apr 1943; CO
<name key="name-002582" type="organisation">28 (Maori) Bn</name> Dec 1943-Jul 1944, Aug-Nov 1944; wounded <date when="1943-12-26">26 Dec 1943</date>.</p></note> made an 
‘impossible’ escape in the desert, his main thought was ‘to get 
back to my battalion at any cost’. The first New Zealand officer 
to escape from <name key="name-008556" type="place">Germany</name> (Colin <name key="name-010938" type="person">Armstrong</name>,<note xml:id="fn3-4" n="7"><p><name key="name-010938" type="person">Maj C. N. Armstrong</name>, MC and bar, ED; <name key="name-008123" type="place">Wanganui</name>; born <name key="name-008123" type="place">Wanganui</name>, <date when="1910-09-12">12 Sep 1910</date>; barrister and solicitor; p.w. <date when="1941-11-27">27 Nov 1941</date>; escaped (from <name key="name-034869" type="place">Poland</name>) <date when="1943-10">Oct 1943</date>;
2 i/c 22 Bn Nov 1944-Jun 1945.</p></note> an original member of the battalion) would write in his book, <hi rend="i">Life Without 
Ladies</hi>, that escapers ‘have justified themselves in their own eyes 
and in the eyes of their people <hi rend="i">and their regiments</hi>.’ Another 
officer, shockingly wounded, refused to die ‘because—well, I 
was determined to live: call it by the old military term “Maintenance of the Aim” if you like.’ It would make a man, wounded 
in action and receiving rough yet tender care from his comrades, 
write: ‘At that moment I was proud to belong to 22 Battalion.’ 
And it would lead to <name key="name-010935" type="person">Colonel Andrew</name> himself admitting: ‘In 
the presence of these men, one felt humble.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The battalion also would produce a man who gave trouble 
before going into action, and who on the night of one attack 
fell sobbing and completely demoralised near the start line
<pb xml:id="n5" n="5"/>
while shells exploded about the poised platoon. Two other men 
‘were about to go too’; if they went, most of the platoon would 
crumble. After some straight talk, insisting that the man was 
going in whatever happened, the platoon officer seized him 
by the neck, held him erect off the ground, ‘and tried to shake 
some guts into him, but in vain.’ So, towing him by an arm, 
they dragged him along the ground, along with them into 
battle. This man, later sent back to a cold reception from the 
same platoon, on his own initiative took complete control of 
the platoon and led it to success in a night of chaos when all 
its leaders were lost or wounded. This man has every right to 
consider himself among the great men of the battalion.</p>
        <p rend="indent">But the backbone of any battalion is no heroic figure but 
the ordinary man (‘He's the one who counts,’ as Colonel 
O'Reilly<note xml:id="fn1-5" n="8"><p>Lt-Col <name type="person">A. W. F. O'Reilly</name>, MC, m.i.d.; <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>; born Dunedin, <date when="1906-04-24">24 Apr 1906</date>;
schoolteacher; CO 22 Bn 22 Nov 1944-24 Mar 1945; twice wounded.</p></note> says), who quietly leaves his civilian life, quietly and 
steadily performs his army duties, and then, just as unostentatiously, disappears into civilian life again. Such a man is a 
private who has contributed a great deal to this book. He 
expresses the feelings of most New Zealand soldiers when he 
writes: ‘Anyone would think by the way I write that I really 
enjoyed the war. But nothing could be further from the point 
as I don't think anybody could hate war any more than I do. 
And as for army life—I could never picture myself taking it 
up as a career. Still on the other hand there were those good 
times, and I have always liked travel. And there was that comradeship which I haven't experienced to the same extent in 
civvy street. In fact when I first got home I never wanted to 
have anything more to do with the previous four years—it 
wasn't until a few years later that I started to take an interest 
in what had happened. But now I have even read quite a few 
books on World War 2 and look forward to going to reunions.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">He later writes: ‘To my mind, two things which showed up 
the wrongness and hell of war: when we were together, the 
Platoon or Company, some of us may have stopped to wonder 
how many of us would come through. Then one day a shell 
or something would come over and we would hear that so- 
and-so had been killed. Then you would realise how often it
<pb xml:id="n6" n="6"/>
was that one of the best had gone (not that you wanted to 
pick out anyone else to take his place). But until then you hadn't 
given it a thought that he would die. Sometimes he was a well-known character, but more often—it seems—he wasn't well-known. But as soon as he had gone the atmosphere in which 
we lived our lives changed, and you realised that the part of 
that atmosphere that was missing now had, before that, been 
filled by so-and-so, and his passing had left something missing.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘Another instance was the shelled or bombed village or town. 
I remember especially once in <name key="name-001383" type="place">Italy</name> we were going along in 
the trucks to take up a new position and just before we entered 
a town we stopped, and immediately we heard a hell of a 
racket just ahead—Jerry was shelling hell out of the place— 
just a continuous crashing cracking and crumping. When it 
stopped we moved on through the town. The dust was everywhere—just like mist forming in the evening (it was evening), 
and the smell of dust, explosives and rubble (any who have 
experienced that smell will remember it) lying on the still warm 
air. A dead cow. And about half a dozen Italians—some men 
and women and one or two children—standing or walking by 
some rubble—their heads down taking no notice of us and 
looking pretty dazed. They looked as though they may have 
been looking for something. The old saying came to mind: “We 
call ourselves civilised”. It wasn't only that it was happening 
in <name key="name-001383" type="place">Italy</name> but in so many other places—and could happen in 
N.Z.—and yet no one wanted it to happen.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">It is difficult to describe or define this collective strength and 
the feelings of men for their battalion. ‘Scotch’ <name key="name-011484" type="person">Paterson</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-6" n="9"><p><name key="name-011484" type="person">Capt E. B. Paterson</name>, MC; <name key="name-120173" type="place">Howick</name>, <name key="name-002817" type="place">Auckland</name>; born Edinburgh, <date when="1911-06-03">3 Jun 1911</date>;
company managing director; wounded <date when="1944-08-08">8 Aug 1944</date>.</p></note> who 
during his two years with the battalion rose from corporal to 
company commander and won the MC, writes:</p>
        <p rend="indent">I think a man's consciousness of the battalion varied with both 
the rank he held and his length of time in it. I know as a corporal, 
for my first two months the idea of the battalion was more or less 
as we would now look upon the world—its limits extended beyond 
your immediate horizon. You did not actually seem aware of anything outside the battalion—the rest of the army, or the Division, 
were too far away from your ken altogether. Other companies in
<pb xml:id="n7" n="7"/>
the battalion touched your consciousness only vaguely. Your immediate world was bound up, not even so much in the company as in 
the platoon.<note xml:id="fn1-7" n="10"><p>‘And not without reason,’ writes Colonel O'Reilly, ‘for when the battle's joined
in an infantry attack, things are really over to the platoon. Time and again Company Headquarters lost touch, but in the morning following the attack, the platoons
were on their objective.’</p></note></p>
        <p rend="indent">The platoon was the fighting unit, the unit you actually lived in, 
and even that was brought down to a small world in the section. 
You ate with, slept with, fought with those in the section. You knew 
those in the other two sections and you relied on them in a fight to 
support you and help you as two distinct units in the same way that 
your own section working as a unit tried to help the other two. You 
didn't know, however, the chaps in the other sections with anything 
like the same degree of intimacy. Generally in a battle you felt the 
strength of the platoon rather than the battalion.</p>
        <p rend="indent">On the other hand, by the time the battalion started in <name key="name-001383" type="place">Italy</name> as 
I knew it, the battalion had established certain traditions. The old 
hands in the platoon, maybe a corporal, a sergeant, maybe one of 
the privates in a section or the driver of the platoon truck had 
stories of men who had gone before. I well remember the scathing 
comment of our platoon sergeant to one of us who had offended in 
some way or another: ‘You'd never get away with that if Les Andrew 
was here.’ It was a real rebuke.</p>
        <p rend="indent">On the other hand too, while we seemed to be intensely proud 
of our platoon, we were equally so of the company and, in a larger 
way, of the battalion. You didn't want to let the company down— 
although ‘Company’ didn't mean so much a group of men in my 
mind at the time, as a stern looking soldierly stocky man, who for 
all his apparent ruthlessness would duck and dive his way through 
every night without fail, under at times really terrific shell and small 
arms fire, to our positions in <name key="name-001638" type="place">Cassino</name> with a sandbag full of hot pies 
baked for the boys by Terry the cook somewhere in B Echelon [the 
non-fighting part of the unit]. Haddon <name key="name-400450" type="person">Donald</name><note xml:id="fn2-7" n="11"><p><name key="name-400450" type="person">Lt-Col H. V. Donald</name>, DSO, MC, m.i.d., Legion of Merit (US); <name key="name-021329" type="place">Masterton</name>;
born <name key="name-021329" type="place">Masterton</name>, <date when="1917-03-20">20 Mar 1917</date>; company director; CO 22 Bn May-Nov 1944,
Mar-Aug 1945; four times wounded.</p></note> used to arrive that 
way about midnight as a rule, and would go round in the dark, 
stand beside one of the boys as he peered through a hole in the wall 
out into the dark, and call him quietly by his first name or his nickname, thrusting a very squashed but very, very acceptable pie into 
his hand. ‘How's it going, Noel?’</p>
        <p rend="indent">I should think there would be quite a number of men who never 
knew much more than the men in their section before they headed 
home on a hospital ship. On the other hand a great many more, 
staying long enough to see the battalion out of the line a few times, 
would come to know at least the company or to get a broader view 
of the battalion and identify themselves with it as a unit. As you 
climbed in rank, of course, you automatically came into the picture.
<pb xml:id="n8" n="8"/>
However, though you knew you depended on the artillery, on the 
tanks and all the supporting weapons behind you, I think, going into 
an attack, the strength you felt you really relied upon was the strength 
of the platoon, since you knew that as a last resort that may be all 
that was left to you. An instance of this was the attack on <name key="name-001273" type="place">La Romola</name> 
when in the confusion such as I had never known before or since— 
smoke, dust and noise—the attacking force of 3 Company was really 
for a great part of the night a number of small bands of men, each 
group carrying on up the hill not sure whether there was any of the 
rest of the company left or not. We all met up eventually near the 
top, but for a time I doubt whether anyone realised there were any 
others still on the go.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Later in <name key="name-001383" type="place">Italy</name> after a few spells out of the line there were opportunities to gain a battalion outlook—helped no doubt by such things 
as the brigade sports meetings—the training period at <name key="name-000828" type="place">Fabriano</name> when 
the NCO's of the battalion were able to get together for a fortnight 
on their own—company farewells to chaps going home, and so on.</p>
        <p rend="indent">I have always thought that ‘the old hands’ were really the men 
who won the war. They knew the fighting when things were tough, 
when it was the men rather than the materials which carried the 
day—when the end of the war was just nowhere in sight at all and 
yet men carried on doing sometimes almost incredible things. These 
were the men (privates and nco's in the early days) who carried that 
fighting spirit on into their units as nco's and officers in the times 
that I knew. They were the ‘old digs’—you could tell them by their 
eyes.</p>
        <p rend="indent">These were the men, still untried in battle, who awaited the 
German now at <name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name>.</p>
        <p rend="center">* * * * *</p>
        <p rend="indent">Twenty-second Battalion's path to the battle-front had been 
long and devious.</p>
        <p rend="indent">First battalion parade at 7 p.m. on <date when="1940-01-18">18 January 1940</date> at 
<name key="name-026686" type="place">Trentham</name>. Men from these districts form the companies: A, 
<name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>; B, north of <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name> along the west coast; C, 
Hawke's Bay and Wairarapa; D, Taranaki. First route march 
on 7 February from <name key="name-026686" type="place">Trentham</name> to Wallaceville bridge; ‘casualties were not numerous,’ notes the war diary. The battalion 
pipe band, six drummers and six pipers under Lance-Corporal 
<name key="name-011031" type="person">Cameron</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-8" n="12"><p><name key="name-011031" type="person">L-Cpl E. S. Cameron</name>; <name key="name-008123" type="place">Wanganui</name>; born <name key="name-120045" type="place">Scotland</name>, <date when="1908-12-28">28 Dec 1908</date>; clerk.</p></note> 
leads the march. (The pipes had been presented 
by New Zealand Scots through the president of the Highland 
Society of New Zealand, Mr <name key="name-011030" type="person">E. D. Cameron</name>, who later worked 
to replace pipes chopped up in <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>.) The battalion marches
<pb xml:id="n9" n="9"/>
through <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name> on 27 April, and sails<note xml:id="fn1-9" n="13"><p>The officers when the battalion embarked were: CO: Lt-Col <name type="person">L. W. Andrew</name>; 2 i/c: <name key="name-011379" type="person">Maj G. J. McNaught</name>; Adjt: Capt <name type="person">P. G. Monk</name>;
IO: Lt <name type="person">W. W. Mason</name>; MO: <name key="name-023196" type="person">Lt W. M. Manchester</name>; QM: Lt <name type="person">T. Thornton</name>;
Padre: Rev. W. E. W. Hurst; RSM: <name key="name-011510" type="person">WO I S. A. R. Purnell</name>; HQ Coy: Capt <name type="person">E. F.
Laws</name>, Lts <name type="person">G. G. Beaven</name>, <name type="person">E. J. McAra</name>, <name type="person">D. F. Anderson</name>, <name type="person">M. G. Wadey</name>, <name type="person">H. R.
Harris</name>, 2 Lt <name type="person">L. Leeks</name>. A Coy: Capts <name type="person">J. W. Bain</name>, <name type="person">J. Moore</name>, Lts <name type="person">W. G. Slade</name>,
<name type="person">R. B. Fell</name>, <name key="name-400533" type="person">G. C. D. Laurence</name>. B Coy: Capts <name type="person">S. Hanton</name>, <name type="person">T. C. Campbell</name>, Lt <name type="person">S. H.
Johnson</name>, 2 Lts <name type="person">C. N. Armstrong</name>, <name type="person">T. G. N. Carter</name>. C. Coy: Maj <name type="person">J. Leggat</name>, Capt <name type="person">W.
Bourke</name>, Lt <name type="person">K. R. S. Crarer</name>, 2 Lts <name type="person">H. V. Donald</name>, <name type="person">E. E. Tyrell</name>. D Coy: Maj <name type="person">J. G. C.
Leach</name>, Capt <name type="person">I. A. Hart</name>, Lts <name type="person">W. G. Lovie</name>, <name type="person">L. B. Clapham</name>, 2 Lt <name type="person">P. R. Hockley</name>.
Reinfs: Lts <name type="person">E. T. Pleasants</name>, <name type="person">E. H. Simpson</name>, 2 Lts <name type="person">B. V. Davison</name>, <name type="person">F. G. Oldham</name>,
<name type="person">C. I. C. Scollay</name>, <name type="person">J. L. MacDuff</name>, <name type="person">T. R. Hawthorn</name>.</p></note> from Pipitea Wharf 
on 2 May in the 43,000-ton liner <hi rend="i"><name type="ship">Empress of <name key="name-005976" type="place">Britain</name></name></hi>, with ‘<name key="name-401558" type="person">Borax</name>’, 
a fox-terrier mascot, smuggled aboard.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The convoy increases off the east coast of <name key="name-008963" type="place">Australia</name>: the <hi rend="i">Queen 
Mary</hi> joins the escorted ships now carrying some 8000 New 
Zealanders and 8000 Australians. Shore leave at <name key="name-000870" type="place">Perth</name>. The 
convoy is diverted south in the <name key="name-001315" type="place">Indian Ocean</name> on 15 May to 
reach <name key="name-012264" type="place">Capetown</name> on the 26th. The battalion's first decoration 
and first death: John <name key="name-208887" type="person">Ormond</name><note xml:id="fn2-9" n="14"><p><name key="name-208887" type="person">Capt J. D. W. Ormond</name>, BEM, m.i.d.; <name key="name-120141" type="place">Waipukurau</name>; born NZ <date when="1905-09-08">8 Sep 1905</date>;
farmer; wounded <date when="1941-04-20">20 Apr 1941</date>.</p></note> dives overboard into swift and 
shark-infested waters in an attempt to rescue a sergeant (from 
<name key="name-028359" type="place">1 NZ General Hospital</name>), and is awarded the BEM; Norm 
<name key="name-011648" type="person">Traynor</name><note xml:id="fn3-9" n="15"><p><name key="name-011648" type="person">Pte N. S. Traynor</name>; born NZ <date when="1913-04-13">13 Apr 1913</date>; electrician; accidentally killed
<date when="1940-05-28">28 May 1940</date>.</p></note> dies of head injuries received ashore. A short call 
at <name key="name-010445" type="place">Freetown</name> to refuel (<name key="name-008009" type="place">France</name> falls, <name key="name-001383" type="place">Italy</name> enters the war). 
On 16 June the great convoy sails up the Clyde to anchor off 
<name key="name-010456" type="place">Gourock</name>. To Mytchett (near <name key="name-002775" type="place">Aldershot</name>): route marching, training, finding the rations slender, and a visit by King George VI. 
In July battle dress replaces brass-buttoned uniforms (‘giggle 
suits’). The battalion's first ‘mechanised move’ in double-decker buses on 11 July to ‘Hog's Back’. In August the Second 
Echelon's ‘100-mile route march’. In mid-August the Battle 
for <name key="name-005976" type="place">Britain</name> begins, and early in September Mr Churchill 
pays a visit. To Warren Wood and Hollingbourne (six miles 
from <name key="name-027589" type="place">Maidstone</name>, <name key="name-008315" type="place">Kent</name>), to coastal positions awaiting the 
invasion which does not come. Men make their first acquaintance of English farming methods ‘and some of them never got 
over it.’ As <name key="name-011469" type="person">Lieutenant Freddie Oldham</name><note xml:id="fn4-9" n="16"><p><name key="name-011469" type="person">Maj F. G. Oldham</name>; born NZ <date when="1912-11-06">6 Nov 1912</date>; bank clerk; wounded <date when="1942-10-24">24 Oct 1942</date>;
killed in action <date when="1943-11-30">30 Nov 1943</date>.</p></note> wrote:</p>
        <p rend="center">And why the man in front of horse?<lb/>
His father taught him to, of course.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n10" n="10"/>
        <p rend="indent">Bombing delays leave trains. Colonel Andrew to late comers: 
‘You know that trains are likely to be delayed. You should 
have left a day earlier. 28 days' detention.’ Manoeuvres, the 
troops rather bewildered and critically short of equipment, with 
London Division (men with flags represent tanks). On the night 
of 27-28 October a bomber jettisons its bombs: one man killed, 
Private Ian Holms, the battalion's first death from enemy action, 
and three wounded in A Company. To winter quarters at 
<name key="name-010378" type="place">Camberley</name>, near <name key="name-010575" type="place">Mytchett Camp</name>, ‘responsible for countering 
any action by enemy parachutists or other airborne troops’. 
Camps left by other units in an ‘appalling state’; Brigadier 
<name key="name-208158" type="person">Hargest</name><note xml:id="fn1-10" n="17"><p><name key="name-208158" type="person">Brig J. Hargest</name>, CBE, DSO and bar, MC, m.i.d.; born Gore, <date when="1891-09-04">4 Sep 1891</date>;
farmer; Member of Parliament 1931-44; Otago Mtd Rifles 1914-20 (CO 2 Bn
Otago Regt); comd <name key="name-001162" type="organisation">5 Bde</name> May 1940-Nov 1941; p.w. <date when="1941-11-27">27 Nov 1941</date>; escaped <name key="name-001383" type="place">Italy</name>, <date when="1943-03">Mar 1943</date>; killed in action, <name key="name-008009" type="place">France</name>, <date when="1944-08-12">12 Aug 1944</date>.</p></note> in a letter congratulates 22 Battalion on the most 
creditable ‘striking contrast’ with its late quarters—and asks 
for fifty men from the battalion to clear up other units' litter. 
At the foot of the letter Colonel Andrew notes: ‘I wonder 
whether it will continue thus throughout war service with the 
<name key="name-001162" type="organisation">5 Bde</name> in this war.’ More route marches to the skirl of ‘The 
Pibroch of Donald Dhu’, the battalion regimental march. 
Advance party of sixty-nine (including Lieutenants <name key="name-009261" type="person">Clapham</name><note xml:id="fn2-10" n="18"><p><name key="name-009261" type="person">Maj L. B. Clapham</name>; Opunake; born Tokomaru, <date when="1917-07-10">10 Jul 1917</date>; motor mechanic;
wounded <date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>.</p></note> 
and <name key="name-010934" type="person">Anderson</name><note xml:id="fn3-10" n="19"><p><name key="name-010934" type="person">Maj D. F. Anderson</name>; Wairoa; born <name key="name-021115" type="place">Ashburton</name>, <date when="1911-03-19">19 Mar 1911</date>; stock agent;
wounded <date when="1942-10-24">24 Oct 1942</date>.</p></note>) leaves for the <hi rend="i">Settler</hi> and <hi rend="i">Elizabethville</hi> at Liverpool in mid-December. Early in a freezing New Year the battalion sails from Newport, Wales, in the ‘Drunken Duchess’ 
(or <hi rend="i">Duchess of Bedford</hi>), and reaches Egypt on 3 March after a 
hot, cramped voyage with poor food. Three weeks in Egypt, 
then the battalion, packed into the small steamer, <hi rend="i">Hellas</hi>, sails 
for <name key="name-001219" type="place">Piraeus</name> harbour, near <name key="name-000608" type="place">Athens</name>, <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>.</p>
        <p rend="center">* * * * *</p>
        <p rend="indent">The battalion had moved back to <name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name> from <name key="name-003953" type="place">Katerini</name> 
on <date when="1941-04-08">8 April 1941</date> (two days after <name key="name-008556" type="place">Germany</name> declared war on 
<name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>), to join Major Hart's<note xml:id="fn4-10" n="20"><p><name key="name-011232" type="person">Maj I. A. Hart</name>, m.i.d.; born NZ <date when="1904-10-24">24 Oct 1904</date>; barrister and solicitor; died of
wounds <date when="1942-11-02">2 Nov 1942</date>.</p></note> large advance party preparing 
weapon pits in the gorge. The battalion plugged the gap between 23 Battalion, on the steep right flank, and 28 (Maori)
<pb xml:id="n11" n="11"/>
Battalion on the equally rough left. They straddled the main 
road leading south to <name key="name-000608" type="place">Athens</name>. Along this road through the gorge 
the main attack would come. Close by were a turbulent river 
and the <name key="name-011496" type="place">Petras</name> tuberculosis sanatorium, partly German staffed 
and, curiously enough, not evacuated.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Everyone worked hard, putting finishing touches to existing 
weapon pits, preparing new ones, improving bush tracks, and 
entrenching. Reserve ammunition, rations, and quantities of 
barbed wire came up along steep, winding mule tracks. Anything approaching a road would be destroyed when the enemy 
drew near. The pioneers, under Lieutenant <name key="name-011669" type="person">Wadey</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-11" n="21"><p><name key="name-011669" type="person">Capt M. G. Wadey</name>; <name key="name-008123" type="place">Wanganui</name>; born <name key="name-008123" type="place">Wanganui</name>, <date when="1913-04-03">3 Apr 1913</date>; foreman<lb/>
plumber; wounded and p.w. <date when="1941-05-23">23 May 1941</date>.</p></note> bridged 
the small Elikon River for emergency access to C and A Companies; signallers with Lieutenant <name key="name-010964" type="person">Beaven</name><note xml:id="fn2-11" n="22"><p><name key="name-010964" type="person">Maj G. G. Beaven</name>; <name key="name-002817" type="place">Auckland</name>; born <name key="name-021386" type="place">Palmerston North</name>, <date when="1910-04-12">12 Apr 1910</date>; clerk,<lb/>
NZR; wounded <date when="1941-05-22">22 May 1941</date>.</p></note> put down telephone 
wires linking companies and Battalion Headquarters. The battalion held a complicated position almost two and a half miles 
long over very rough, wooded country. A deep ravine to the 
right of the pass road severed the front, which was cut up further by steep faces, rock, and loose shingle. As one man said: 
‘It was hellava country to wire …. A very tough, wiry, 
stumpy bush smothered in thorns grew along the faces, and 
we tied all these bushes together with barbed wire. This made 
pretty tough obstacles almost impossible to get through.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Every platoon had taken up front-line positions and the only 
reserve was the pioneer platoon. Battalion Headquarters was 
back about a mile by the main road. A Company (Captain 
<name key="name-011224" type="person">Hanton</name><note xml:id="fn3-11" n="23"><p><name key="name-011224" type="person">Maj S. Hanton</name>, ED; <name key="name-008123" type="place">Wanganui</name>; born Forfar, <name key="name-120045" type="place">Scotland</name>, <date when="1908-08-06">6 Aug 1908</date>; printer;<lb/>
p.w. <date when="1942-07-15">15 Jul 1942</date>.</p></note>) linked up with B Company 23 Battalion on a ridge 
just south of and overlooking the white-walled sanatorium. A 
Company men ‘felt rather peculiar’ digging weapon pits in full 
view of potential enemies, the German members of the unmolested medical staff. C Company (Major Hart) followed the 
ridge north of the sanatorium to the Elikon River. Across the 
deep, wooded ravine B Company (Captain <name key="name-011326" type="person">Laws</name><note xml:id="fn4-11" n="24"><p><name key="name-011326" type="person">Maj E. F. Laws</name>, ED; <name key="name-008123" type="place">Wanganui</name>; born <name key="name-008318" type="place">Napier</name>, <date when="1904-05-09">9 May 1904</date>; accountant.</p></note>) barred the 
main road. Eleven Platoon overlooked the main bridge spanning a side stream and had a forward post perched in the cliff
<pb xml:id="n12" n="12"/>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22Ba012a"><graphic url="WH2-22Ba012a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22Ba012a-g"/><head><hi rend="sc">olympus pass positions, 5 brigade, <date when="1941-04">april 1941</date></hi></head><figDesc>Black and white map of army positions</figDesc></figure>
<pb xml:id="n13" n="13"/>
face. This platoon was covered by 10 Platoon, alongside on 
higher ground. Twelve Platoon, on still higher ground, was a 
little further back. Finally D Company (Captain <name key="name-000732" type="person">Campbell</name><note xml:id="fn1-13" n="25"><p><name key="name-000732" type="person">Col T. C. Campbell</name>, CBE, DSO, MC, m.i.d.; <name key="name-021590" type="place">Waiouru</name>; born Colombo, 20 Dec<lb/><date when="1911">1911</date>; farm appraiser; CO 22 Bn 6 Sep 1942-18 Apr 1944; comd <name key="name-002994" type="organisation">4 Armd Bde</name><lb/>
Jan-Dec 1945; Commander of Army Schools, 1951-53; Commander, Fiji Military<lb/>
Forces, 1953-56; Commandant, Waiouru Military Camp, <date when="1956-12">Dec 1956</date>-.</p></note>), 
linking with the <name key="name-005118" type="organisation">Maori Battalion</name>, was astride a most inferior, 
no-exit road leading to a settlement called <name key="name-027961" type="place">Skotina</name>. Lieutenant 
<name key="name-011349" type="person">McAra</name><note xml:id="fn2-13" n="26"><p><name key="name-011349" type="person">Lt E. J. McAra</name>; born Dunedin, <date when="1906-04-05">5 Apr 1906</date>; commercial artist; killed in<lb/>
action <date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>.</p></note> set up his mortars on an outcrop nicknamed ‘Gibraltar’. He had trained his mortar men to perfection, and the 
steep-fronted outcrop covering the front was an outstanding 
mortar position. The battalion Bren carriers camped alongside 
the road by Gibraltar. Twelve Platoon of 27 (Machine Gun) 
Battalion, taking up high ground behind C Company and 
covering most of the land between the road and the sanatorium, 
supported the battalion. Two-pounder guns of 32 Battery 7 
Anti-Tank Regiment supported B Company and elsewhere. 
Incidentally, none of these anti-tank guns covered the approaches to the front. They would come into action (cold comfort for 22 Battalion's riflemen) only when the companies were 
overrun. This siting of the guns was the fashion after the French 
and Belgian débâcle, and one anti-tank gunner dryly remarked 
that a tank ‘would have to be dropped by parachute before he 
could have a crack at it.’ About three miles back the 25-pounders of <name key="name-010589" type="organisation">5 Field Regiment</name>, experiencing trouble with crest clearance, completed the supporting arms.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The crisp air and the solid work gave yet more zest to men 
already fighting fit. ‘Never,’ noted one officer, ‘have these 
fellows been more cheerful or willing.’ It was spring, and a 
strange clicking noise, like slithering pebbles, alarmed many 
a lonely sentry in the night until New Zealanders discovered 
the tortoises were mating. Here and there little patches of 
primroses, hyacinths and violets grew wild among fir and cypress woods, and looking up, a man could glimpse the snowy 
peaks of <name key="name-001184" type="place">Mount Olympus</name>. Stories, not of ancient gods but of 
deer on <name key="name-001184" type="place">Mount Olympus</name>, sent a hunting party from 14 Platoon 
out one evening, and after an arduous climb, when only tracks 
of deer were seen, the hunters returned with a plump calf:
<pb xml:id="n14" n="14"/>
‘mistaken for a fawn’ was the excuse. It was expertly quartered 
and boiled in a benzine tin, and the veal handsomely supplemented the platoon's rations, for food was not plentiful at 
<name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name>. Even a sackful of sodden dog biscuits found in an 
old ammunition dump were boiled into a mash and eaten by 
B Company.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Delicacies came the way of 9 Platoon when, on the cold, raw 
night of 10 April, the German medical staff of the sanatorium 
stole away undetected, leaving the patients helpless. This was 
discovered in the morning by Lieutenant ‘Snowy’ <name key="name-004154" type="person">Leeks</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-14" n="27"><p><name key="name-004154" type="person">Maj L. Leeks</name>; <name key="name-001298" type="place">Melbourne</name>; born <name key="name-008123" type="place">Wanganui</name>, <date when="1914-11-22">22 Nov 1914</date>; insurance clerk;<lb/>
twice wounded.</p></note> who 
had been suspicious of the place for some time. Some 5 Brigade 
trucks evacuated the patients, and 9 Platoon enjoyed hospital-baked bread, rabbits, fowls, pork, and even a peacock. Some 
titbits went back to Battalion Headquarters ‘to appease the 
old man’. A case of brandy and cherry brandy quickly disappeared into water bottles, none reaching ‘the old man’. 
Later on, strange sounds (quite unconnected with the brandy) 
from the sanatorium vexed patrols: doors banged suddenly in 
the night, and prowling dogs knocked over objects inside the 
empty rooms.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Good Friday (11 April) dawned wet, cold and misty, and 
next day, when the enemy was still out of sight, the CO called 
off all except routine duties to let men light most welcome fires 
and dry out sodden clothes and blankets. Padre <name key="name-022659" type="person">Hurst</name><note xml:id="fn2-14" n="28"><p><name key="name-022659" type="person">Very Rev. W. E. W. Hurst</name>, m.i.d.; Dean of Dunedin; born Moira, Northern<lb/><name key="name-120007" type="place">Ireland</name>, <date when="1912-05-17">17 May 1912</date>; p.w. <date when="1941-05-24">24 May 1941</date>.</p></note> held 
a small, simple and impressive eve-of-battle communion service 
in his tent at the top of a ravine. That night more rain and 
snow made conditions worse, turning roads and tracks into 
quagmires and adding to the wretched plight of the refugees, 
who a few days earlier had been allowed to pass, but now, with 
the enemy expected any time, were given short shrift and sent 
back the way they had come. Mixed among the refugees were 
swarthy little Greek soldiers (some carrying their shoddy boots 
and trudging along barefooted) in khaki uniforms recalling 
1914-18 fashions. The Greek troops were let through the road 
block, together with a weird piece of Greek artillery, a lumbering cannon on six-foot wheels drawn by an exhausted old 
engine.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n15" n="15"/>
        <p rend="indent">The last peaceful day passed—Easter Sunday (13 April<note xml:id="fn1-15" n="29"><p>This day Capt Monk became 2 i/c B Coy, 2 Lt MacDuff replacing him as<lb/>
Adjutant; Capt Campbell (2 i/c B Coy) took over D Coy; Maj J. Bain (D Coy)<lb/>
had been evacuated sick.</p></note>). 
Down by the riverbed Padre Hurst celebrated Holy Communion, using a large square stone for his altar in a natural 
sanctuary, with the men sitting round on boulders in a natural 
church. Many a man carried the memory of this <name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name> 
service with him until the end of his war days.</p>
        <p rend="indent">At 2 p.m. on Monday an enemy reconnaissance plane droned 
slowly over the pines and cypresses concealing 22 Battalion, 
and from that time onwards similar aircraft flew over 5 Brigade's positions, scorning the quite ineffectual fire from light 
automatic weapons and impudently swooping so low that the 
Iron Cross markings and sometimes the pilot himself were seen. 
Three hours after the first German scouting plane appeared, 
B Company watched the last <name key="name-001158" type="organisation">Divisional Cavalry</name> vehicle clatter 
back; then the three 22 Battalion Bren carriers in front of the 
road block were withdrawn, and an hour later the plunging 
echoes from the last demolitions faded and died in the darkening mountains. The road bridges ahead were smashed, the 
fifteen long months of training and preparation were ended, 
and 22 Battalion, alert beside its weapons, faced the enemy.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The motor-cycles, headlights glaring, swung into sight. Before 
they braked to a stop in front of the demolition, 11 Platoon 
(Lieutenant Armstrong) opened fire with its Bren guns, and 
the startled vanguard shrank back leaving, as was discovered 
next morning, five wrecked motor-cycles, some with sidecars 
and all with weapons, lying about the road. Simultaneously 
advanced troops made a show of force across the front by firing 
indiscriminately from machine guns, pistols and spandaus. 
Tracer streamed and ricocheted through the night. Then the 
firing died down and stopped, although enemy transport (still 
using headlights freely) could be heard and seen collecting 
strength further back. Two Germans blundering into wire received a ‘pincapple’ from Cam <name key="name-011684" type="person">Weir</name>.<note xml:id="fn2-15" n="30"><p><name key="name-011684" type="person">Pte T. C. Weir</name>; <name key="name-120066" type="place">Otorohanga</name>; born Taumarunui, <date when="1908-09-16">16 Sep 1908</date>; labourer;<lb/>
wounded and p.w. <date when="1941-04-16">16 Apr 1941</date>.</p></note> Sentries in the forward 
posts kept very much on the alert.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The next day (15 April) was rather an anti-climax. After
<pb xml:id="n16" n="16"/>
breakfast (in name only) news spread officially that <name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name> 
would be abandoned in the night. Although few men in the 
battalion knew this at the time, another German force, after 
invading a helpless <name key="name-004979" type="place">Yugoslavia</name>, had advanced through the 
weakly defended <name key="name-011421" type="place">Monastir Gap</name>, in the north-west. Any further 
advance would leave the whole <name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name> range defences outflanked and cut off from behind. The Allies were to pull back 
urgently, first to the <name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name>-<name key="name-003963" type="place">Aliakmon River</name> line and then 
to <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>'s narrow waist at <name key="name-001392" type="place">Thermopylae</name>, where (they hoped) 
a solid stand could be made on a short front. Two-thirds of 
<name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name> would be lost in this sweeping withdrawal south.</p>
        <p rend="indent">News that 5 Brigade was to retreat to the southern end of 
the pass in the night was rather a surprise, for the day was 
fairly quiet, apart from short exchanges of fire in the early 
morning and some shelling in the afternoon. It seemed that 
the enemy, checked for the time on the road, was trying to 
find a way round the flanks. Shortly after breakfast 22 Battalion 
heard the Maori Battalio's mortars to the left open up for 
half an hour to engage and drive back ‘five enemy tanks’, 
actually tracked troop-carriers. Later from the right came the 
sound of 23 Battalio's mortars engaging an enemy patrol, and 
25-pounder shells passed overhead to scramble transport and 
debussing troops.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Twenty-second Battalio's main labour of the day went into 
preparing for the withdrawal, which was expected after nightfall. The companies started packing out some gear by mules<note xml:id="fn1-16" n="31"><p>When this had been done, according to army regulations an acquittance roll had<lb/>
to be made out for the muleteers. ‘There's nothing funny about trying to make an<lb/>
alphabetical roll of scared mule-drivers when you don't know their language,’<lb/>
recalls K. R. S. Crarer. ‘The roll never got more than half done.’</p></note> 
down slippery bush tracks to the road behind the front, where 
trucks would take over. Unnecessary stores were destroyed, 
and Barney Clapham, the transport officer, ‘very worried about 
repercussions’, chopped up the battalion bagpipes.</p>
        <p rend="indent">An example of resourcefulness about this time was given by 
the driver, Jack <name key="name-011226" type="person">Hargreaves</name>,<note xml:id="fn2-16" n="32"><p><name key="name-011226" type="person">Pte J. R. C. Hargreaves</name>; Te Whaiti; born <name key="name-021225" type="place">Gisborne</name>, <date when="1912-10-12">12 Oct 1912</date>; millhand; wounded <date when="1941-11">Nov 1941</date>.</p></note> who loaded C Company's 15- 
cwt truck with ammunition and the most important parts of 
the company's stores, and attempted to get the truck out along 
the partly built track (all access roads now were held by the
<pb xml:id="n17" n="17"/>
enemy). Starting off alone, Hargreaves got the truck not only 
along the primitive track but also through scrub and rough 
country before he was forced to abandon and destroy it. Tramping out alone, through miles of strange, rough country and 
forest, he rejoined his unit.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Back in the battalion lines in the late afternoon the scream 
of shells over forward areas showed that the enemy, making 
full use of his reconnaissance planes still cruising over the pass, 
was groping for the well-concealed 25-pounders. Soon the battalion would develop an accurate ear for shells, instantly distinguishing between the sound of an ‘inne’ (a shell heading 
for your area) and the report of our own guns. Many a soldier 
was almost indignantly surprised when the enemy suddenly 
varied his range, and loud reports in the battalion area showed 
that the 22nd was under enemy shelling for the first time. The 
few’ 14-' 18 men in the battalion (no doubt wondering whether 
they could stand up to it for a second time) found they recognised instantly the different sound between close and ‘safe’ 
shells – and also between rifle fire and machine–gunning: 
bullets going <hi rend="i">pss–pss–pss</hi> were safe; bullets pinging, cracking or 
buzzing like bees were close and dangerous. Colonel Andrew, 
inspecting positions, heard one Kiwi advise another: ‘You 
watch the old man. When he ducks, you duck.’ These random 
shells caused two casualties, Sergeant Dillon<note xml:id="fn1-17" n="33"><p>WOI <name type="person">D. G. Dillon</name>; Patangata, Hawke's Bay; born NZ <date when="1911-11-12">12 Nov 1911</date>; labourer;<lb/>
wounded <date when="1941-04-15">15 Apr 1941</date>.</p></note> (Battalion Headquarters) and Private <name key="name-011720" type="person">Wright</name><note xml:id="fn2-17" n="34"><p><name key="name-011720" type="person">Pte S. A. Wright</name>; <name key="name-120018" type="place">Hamilton</name>; born <name key="name-002817" type="place">Auckland</name>, <date when="1918-03-16">16 Mar 1918</date>; linesman; three 
times wounded.</p></note> (a signaller attached to the 
mortars), neither of them severely wounded.</p>
        <p rend="indent">An hour after the shelling started a verbal message from 
Brigade said: ‘Hold everything 24 hours’; the retreat was postponed. In the evening mortar fire over the battalion area 
caused no casualties. ‘Practically all the boys were awake all that 
night,’ writes one man, ‘very few got more than an hour's 
sleep, practically all our nerves being strung up so that we 
heard many noises that we would not have noticed normally. 
Excitement was pretty general and every Jerry patrol that 
approached us was warmly welcomed.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Late in the night, between midnight and 2 a.m., D Company's turn came. The company (left of the road and linking
<pb xml:id="n18" n="18"/>
with the <name key="name-005118" type="organisation">Maori Battalion</name>), with the rain, scrub and broken 
ground, had a tough job covering the wire and minefield along 
the whole of its front. Parties could be heard stumbling against 
bushes in the darkness. Sergeant Jerry Fowler<note xml:id="fn1-18" n="35"><p>2 Lt <name type="person">T. G. Fowler</name>, MM, m.i.d.; <name key="name-008388" type="place">Cambridge</name>; born Kapuni, Taranaki, 16 Oct<lb/>
<date when="1909">1909</date>; storeman.</p></note> fired his 2-inch 
mortar towards one party and was annoyed at derisive cries 
in English of ‘You'll have to do better than that!’ D Company, 
thinking this a ruse to discover their positions, lay low, and in 
the morning found their wire cut and all their carefully laid 
mines by the little bridge removed—a game piece of work.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Soon after daybreak on 16 April the main enemy attack 
began in an attempt to shoulder a way up the main road 
through 22 Battalian in the centre. Tom <name key="name-010707" type="person">Logie</name><note xml:id="fn2-18" n="36"><p><name key="name-010707" type="person">Sgt T. Logie</name>; born <name key="name-120045" type="place">Scotland</name>, <date when="1905-06-24">24 Jun 1905</date>; butcher; killed in action 16 Apr<lb/><date when="1941">1941</date>.</p></note> was the first 
in the battalion to die in battle. Suddenly shelling began, short 
of Headquarters Company's cookhouse in a dry riverbed. The 
Colonel's batman, ‘Shorty’ <name key="name-011325" type="person">Lawless</name>,<note xml:id="fn3-18" n="37"><p><name key="name-011325" type="person">Pte E. Lawless</name>; <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>; born England, <date when="1914-08-07">7 Aug 1914</date>; seaman; p.w. 1 Jun<lb/><date when="1941">1941</date>.</p></note> went to ground in a 
muddy patch and lost the Colonel's pot of tea. Company Sergeant-Major <name key="name-011160" type="person">Fraser</name>,<note xml:id="fn4-18" n="38"><p><name key="name-011160" type="person">WO II H. T. Fraser</name>; <name key="name-120035" type="place">Lower Hutt</name>; born <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>, <date when="1902-02-19">19 Feb 1902</date>; motor<lb/>
driver and salesman.</p></note> an old soldier, realised the shells were 
falling short and began to laugh. ‘Twice again “Shorty” and 
the tea parted company amidst uproarious laughter. [A minute 
later a] shell landed right in the cookhouse. Tom was killed 
almost instantly and another lad [Jack <name key="name-011649" type="person">Tregea</name><note xml:id="fn5-18" n="39"><p><name key="name-011649" type="person">Pte J. Tregea</name>; <name key="name-007584" type="place">Christchurch</name>; born NZ <date when="1914-11-29">29 Nov 1914</date>; moulder; wounded<lb/><date when="1941-04-16">16 Apr 1941</date>.</p></note>] was hit in 
the elbow.’ As the shells increased, Doctor <name key="name-011341" type="person">Longmore</name><note xml:id="fn6-18" n="40"><p><name key="name-011341" type="person">Maj L. H. V. Longmore</name>; <name key="name-007584" type="place">Christchurch</name>; born <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>, <date when="1909-11-19">19 Nov 1909</date>; medical practitioner; RMO 22 Bn Dec 1940-May 1941; p.w. <date when="1941-05-21">21 May 1941</date>; repatriated <date when="1943-11">Nov 1943</date>.</p></note> hurried 
to the cookhouse while Padre Hurst and Sergeant <name key="name-011115" type="person">Drake</name><note xml:id="fn7-18" n="41"><p><name key="name-011115" type="person">Sgt J. Drake</name>; <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>; born <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>, <date when="1915-11-26">26 Nov 1915</date>; dairy inspector;<lb/>
p.w. <date when="1941-05-21">21 May 1941</date>.</p></note> 
collected his instruments. ‘We hurried back to find Tom just 
passing on, and the Doc performed an immediate operation 
to remove Tregea's forearm. It was a brave and skilful job, 
well done and well taken,’ noted Padre Hurst. ‘I gave the 
soldier the cigarette he asked for about two minutes after he
<pb xml:id="n19" n="19"/>
had been sewn up. How quickly great fun, our first fear and 
I suppose reaction to it in laughter, became real tragedy.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Meanwhile B Company, spotting tanks (and no mistake this 
time) and other vehicles approaching, called for immediate 
concentrated artillery fire in front of 11 Platoon, and as the 
shells cracked down Lieutenant McAra's men, until now ‘not 
wasting ammunition on scattered targets’, swung their mortars 
into action for the first time, pumped 137 rounds into the knot 
of men and vehicles taking cover under a cliff just between C 
and B Companies on the <name key="name-011496" type="place">Petras</name> road, and claimed about a 
company of men and two armoured vehicles. (They were very 
innocent in those days; a company of men takes a lot of killing.) 
After his 3-inch mortar detachment had been driven out by 
heavy shelling, Sergeant George <name key="name-011299" type="person">Katene</name><note xml:id="fn1-19" n="42"><p><name key="name-011299" type="person">Lt G. Katene</name>, MM; born <name key="name-036349" type="place">Porirua</name>, <date when="1915-09-27">27 Sep 1915</date>; labourer; killed in action<lb/><date when="1943-12-07">7 Dec 1943</date>.</p></note> of the Maori Battalion, whose conduct won the Military Medal, immediately 
opened up in another position. Others saw the artillery ‘making 
hits galore, really grand shooting’ along the road, and again B 
Company's approaches were clear, until five German tanks 
at 7 a. m. crawled to within 400 yards and pasted away at 11 
Platoon with machine gun and two-pounder cannon.</p>
        <p rend="indent">A fine description of the battalion first meeting enemy tanks 
is given by Corporal <name key="name-010936" type="person">Andrews</name><note xml:id="fn2-19" n="43"><p><name key="name-010936" type="person">Sgt A. W. Andrews</name>; <name key="name-008318" type="place">Napier</name>; born Hokitika, <date when="1910-12-04">4 Dec 1910</date>; contractor.</p></note> of the hard-pressed 11 Platoon: 
‘I yelled out to the boys that three tanks as big as houses had 
come up, they laughed, but when the little tank pulled aside 
and the big fellows weighing somewhere about 35 to 45 tons 
came into sight they changed their minds, but they were not 
in the least downhearted—in fact Herb [<name key="name-011018" type="person">Burgess</name><note xml:id="fn3-19" n="44"><p><name key="name-011018" type="person">Pte H. H. Burgess</name>; born NZ <date when="1909-09-21">21 Sep 1909</date>; farm manager; killed in action<lb/><date when="1941-04-16">16 Apr 1941</date>.</p></note>] gave the 
old crown and anchor cry of “<hi rend="i">Shower’ em down, shower’ em down!</hi>” 
[The tanks eventually came to within 100 yards of 11 Platoon, 
opened fierce fire, then withdrew.] Each of these retirements 
heartened the boys and I now think that at the time we fully 
believed we had them licked. We most certainly hindered them, 
but the more we fired at them the more we gave our positions 
away and the Jerry was not slow in getting our positions to 
a foot.’</p>
        <pb xml:id="n20" n="20"/>
        <p rend="indent">Swept with fire, the platoon had to sit tight and take it. 
Alan <name key="name-011434" type="person">Murray</name><note xml:id="fn1-20" n="45"><p><name key="name-011434" type="person">Pte A. C. Murray</name>; Feilding; born NZ <date when="1913-02-21">21 Feb 1913</date>; plasterer's labourer;<lb/>
wounded <date when="1941-04-16">16 Apr 1941</date>.</p></note> lost a thumb; Jack <name key="name-011656" type="person">Tustin</name><note xml:id="fn2-20" n="46"><p><name key="name-011656" type="person">Pte J. R. Tustin</name>; born Raetihi, <date when="1912-11-17">17 Nov 1912</date>; shepherd; killed in action 16 Apr 
<date when="1941">1941</date>.</p></note> was mortally 
wounded across the thighs; Herb Burgess and George <name key="name-011488" type="person">Peacock</name><note xml:id="fn3-20" n="47"><p><name key="name-011488" type="person">Pte G. H. Peacock</name>; born <name key="name-120068" type="place">Taihape</name>, <date when="1902-01-24">24 Jan 1902</date>; labourer; died of wounds<lb/><date when="1941-04-16">16 Apr 1941</date>.</p></note> 
died at their post, manning their Bren gun to the last. The 
only real threat to the tanks was the indirect artillery fire 
(which now moved these tanks only 200 yards or so up and 
down the road) and the chance of a fluke hit from a mortar. 
The two-pounders were too far back to fire. The battalion's 
only immediate defence against armoured vehicles was the 
‘elephant gun’—one Boys anti-tank rifle to each platoon—Brens 
and rifles. Men now were even more sceptical about the value 
of rifle and Bren fire against tanks. At this time, on B Company's 
immediate front and within 800 yards, were about forty 
vehicles including one medium tank, other lighter tanks, and 
many tracked vehicles used for troop-carrying. Out of sight a 
great mass of enemy transport, tanks, and troops had piled up, 
stretching from the pass along the road back to <name key="name-003953" type="place">Katerini</name>, the 
first three miles mainly made up with tanks, tracked troop-carriers and motor-cycles.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Soon the infantry knew only too well that more mortars had 
crept up to join the fray. The troubles of the riflemen increased 
again when too many 25-pounder shells seemed to be landing 
too close to the forward weapon pits (the guns, firing over 3000 
rounds this day, were having much trouble in clearing a ridge 
further back), and B Company with some relief received 
Lieutenant-Colonel <name key="name-003600" type="person">Fraser</name>,<note xml:id="fn4-20" n="48"><p><name key="name-003600" type="person">Lt-Col K. W. Fraser</name>, OBE, ED, m.i.d.; <name key="name-000121" type="place">Eastbourne</name>; born <name key="name-120045" type="place">Scotland</name>, 1 Nov<lb/><date when="1905">1905</date>; asst advertising manager; CO <name key="name-001153" type="organisation">5 Fd Regt</name> 1940-41; p.w. <date when="1941-11-27">27 Nov 1941</date>.</p></note> CO <name key="name-010589" type="organisation">5 Field Regiment</name>, who set 
up a special observation post, contacted the guns by radio, 
directed fire himself, and soon quietened the mortars.</p>
        <p rend="indent">At 8.40 a.m. a strong enemy tank attack was launched again 
up the road. These tanks had been hidden in trees and scrub 
not more than 600 yards from the front. Colonel Fraser, seated 
in the open on a folding chair, ordered ten rounds' gunfire. 
The gunfire and tanks arrived at the same spot simultaneously 
in a cloud of dust and smoke. Infantrymen saw the attack
<pb xml:id="n21" n="21"/>
splinter and smash. At least ten vehicles, including an ammunition truck and at least one tank, were knocked out—the tanks 
were supported by infantry. Then another tank and an ammunition truck went up, the truck being credited to <choice><orig>hard-<lb/>
working</orig><reg>hardworking</reg></choice> Private <name key="name-011694" type="person">Whibley</name><note xml:id="fn1-21" n="49"><p><name key="name-011694" type="person">Cpl S. W. Whibley</name>; Upper Aramoho, <name key="name-008123" type="place">Wanganui</name>; born <name key="name-008123" type="place">Wanganui</name>, <date when="1914-11-03">3 Nov 1914</date>;<lb/>
labourer.</p></note> and his Boys anti-tank rifle. ‘In 
actual fact,’ writes Whibley, ‘we were under the impression 
that a shot from the Boys had entered the visor of the tank, 
for when I fired it ran off the road and started to smoke.’ 
(B Company, reporting on the Boys rifle in action, said it 
‘embarrassed tanks’.)</p>
        <p rend="indent">The hard-pressed 11 Platoon<note xml:id="fn2-21" n="50"><p>Second-Lieutenant Armstrong received the MC, his citation reading: ‘His<lb/>
platoon was placed in the path of the enemy's advance and successfully resisted<lb/>
[on 15-16 April] the combined efforts of motor cyclists, AFV's and infantry to<lb/>
penetrate his position. It was largely due to the example of 2 Lt. Armstrong that<lb/>
the action was successfully fought.’ B Company had suffered 13 of the battalio's<lb/>
19 casualties at <name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name>.</p></note> was rushed by three tanks at 
9.18 a.m. One tank charged straight down into the hole left 
by the demolition. The platoon disposed of the crew. The two 
remaining tanks tried to cross the demolition, apparently attempting to use the first tank as some sort of bridge. Failing to 
do this, they sprayed B's front. The battle continued throughout 
the morning, mainly in the central sector. At one stage 11 
Platoo's forward post in the cliff face had to be withdrawn to 
another position further back. The men stuck to their position 
until their post was virtually shot away from underneath them: 
tanks had fired at the weapon pit until the soil below the parapet 
collapsed.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Under such pressure B Company, curtained by fire, between 
9.30 and 10.30a.m. suffered further casualties: Johnny O'Brien<note xml:id="fn3-21" n="51"><p>Pte J. O'Brien; born Maketu, <date when="1913-07-27">27 Jul 1913</date>; labourer; killed in action 16 Apr<lb/>
<date when="1941">1941</date>.</p></note> 
(a Maori) and Doug <name key="name-011709" type="person">Wilson</name><note xml:id="fn4-21" n="52"><p><name key="name-011709" type="person">Pte D. Wilson</name>; born <name key="name-120098" type="place">Petone</name>, <date when="1904-06-04">4 Jun 1904</date>; assembler; killed in action 16 Apr<lb/><date when="1941">1941</date>.</p></note> killed; Sergeant Joe Mahar<note xml:id="fn5-21" n="53"><p>Capt J. Mahar, m.i.d.; born NZ <date when="1913-10-31">31 Oct 1913</date>; contractor; wounded 16 Apr 
<date when="1941">1941</date>.</p></note> 
and Privates <name key="name-011227" type="person">Harnish</name><note xml:id="fn6-21" n="54"><p><name key="name-011227" type="person">Pte C. J. Harnish</name>; <name key="name-021363" type="place">New Plymouth</name>; born NZ <date when="1916-10-01">1 Oct 1916</date>; lorry driver; wounded<lb/><date when="1941-04-16">16 Apr 1941</date>.</p></note> and <name key="name-011344" type="person">Lovett</name><note xml:id="fn7-21" n="55"><p><name key="name-011344" type="person">Pte C. S. Lovett</name>; born NZ <date when="1899-12-08">8 Dec 1899</date>; stoker; wounded <date when="1941-04-16">16 Apr 1941</date>; p.w. 
<date when="1942-06-28">28 Jun 1942</date>; died of sickness while p.w. <date when="1945-02-12">12 Feb 1945</date>.</p></note> wounded. Corporal Jack
<pb xml:id="n22" n="22"/>
<name key="name-011217" type="person">Hagen</name><note xml:id="fn1-22" n="56"><p><name key="name-011217" type="person">Sgt J. M. Hagen</name>; born NZ <date when="1910-11-14">14 Nov 1910</date>; labourer.</p></note> later led a party back in a brave attempt to bring out 
the dead and bury them. As this party moved forward Paul 
<name key="name-011110" type="person">Donoghue</name>,<note xml:id="fn2-22" n="57"><p><name key="name-011110" type="person">Pte P. P. Donoghue</name>; born <name key="name-120098" type="place">Petone</name>, <date when="1916-04-07">7 Apr 1916</date>; clerk; wounded <date when="1942-07-15">15 Jul 1942</date>.</p></note> a volunteer from Headquarters Company, opened 
up with a Bren to give covering fire, but drew such a response 
that the party finally was forced to give up.</p>
        <p rend="indent">On the battalio's right flank a company of infantry attacked 
C Company to test defences between the sanatorium and the 
river. Fourteen Platoon drove them back, and at dusk the 
enemy was heard digging in. Activity in front of A Company, 
further right, was small, and it didn't seem that the neighbouring 23 Battalion positions were being pressed heavily. Across on 
the other flank <name key="name-022846" type="organisation">28 Battalion</name>, holding one big attack in the forest, 
also gave some help to D Company 22 Battalion. From 3 p. m. 
onwards activity on this company's front increased. All through 
the afternoon a D Company sniper, Barney <name key="name-011702" type="person">Wicksteed</name>,<note xml:id="fn3-22" n="58"><p><name key="name-011702" type="person">L-Cpl B. M. Wicksteed</name>; <name key="name-021363" type="place">New Plymouth</name>; born <name key="name-008123" type="place">Wanganui</name>, <date when="1918-03-22">22 Mar 1918</date>; clerk;<lb/>
wounded <date when="1942-08-29">29 Aug 1942</date>.</p></note> had 
prevented enemy pioneers from working on the smashed bridge 
in front of B Company. In the dusk a force estimated to be a 
battalion strong gathered in the scrub on a 1000-yard front. 
Twenty minutes later a tank got across the demolition and 
turned towards D Company, halting where the mines and the 
wire had been interfered with in the night. The tank made no 
efforts to close in on the weapon pits but hampered D Company's movements with persistent fire. Small groups of infantry 
attempted to reach the steep valley between B and D Companies. Later, at 6.30 p.m., an armoured troop-carrier crossed 
the demolition and took cover under a bluff in front of B Company. The troops aboard went to ground in the valley between 
B and D Companies. No further attempts were made to get 
through 22 Battalion, which during the afternoon and early 
evening had more wounded: Privates <name key="name-011055" type="person">Christiansen</name><note xml:id="fn4-22" n="59"><p><name key="name-011055" type="person">Pte R. A. Christiansen</name>; born NZ <date when="1918-04-18">18 Apr 1918</date>; railway fireman; wounded<lb/><date when="1941-04-16">16 Apr 1941</date>.</p></note> and <name key="name-011400" type="person">Meek</name><note xml:id="fn5-22" n="60"><p><name key="name-011400" type="person">Pte D. J. Meek</name>; Stratford; born <name key="name-120045" type="place">Scotland</name>, <date when="1918-08-20">20 Aug 1918</date>; foundry labourer; 
wounded <date when="1941-04-16">16 Apr 1941</date>.</p></note> 
(D Company) and Sergeant <name key="name-011150" type="person">Ford</name><note xml:id="fn6-22" n="61"><p><name key="name-011150" type="person">Sgt A. G. Ford</name>; <name key="name-021225" type="place">Gisborne</name>; born <name key="name-002817" type="place">Auckland</name>, <date when="1917-05-04">4 May 1917</date>; carpenter; twice<lb/>
wounded; p.w. <date when="1941-04-27">27 Apr 1941</date>; repatriated <date when="1944-05">May 1944</date>.</p></note> and Private Weir (B Company).
<pb xml:id="n23" n="23"/>
Two men missing believed killed, Privates <name key="name-011462" type="person">Norris</name><note xml:id="fn1-23" n="62"><p><name key="name-011462" type="person">Pte R. Norris</name>; born NZ <date when="1909-03-06">6 Mar 1909</date>; tinsmith; p.w. <date when="1941-04-16">16 Apr 1941</date>.</p></note> and 
<name key="name-011495" type="person">Peterson</name>,<note xml:id="fn2-23" n="63"><p><name key="name-011495" type="person">Pte A. H. Peterson</name>; born NZ <date when="1918-10-16">16 Oct 1918</date>; painter; p.w. <date when="1941-04-16">16 Apr 1941</date>; killed<lb/>
while p.w. <date when="1942-12-03">3 Dec 1942</date>.</p></note> were captured.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The wounded, particularly Jack Tregea with one arm, 
showed great fortitude during the move back over rough tracks. 
The stretcher-bearers had a rough time handling stretchers 
through scrub and wire and up and down hills. At one exposed 
spot below B Company headquarters the stretcher-bearers had 
to leave cover, cross the road swept occasionally by enemy fire, 
and crawl through wire with stretcher and casualty.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Fortunately the enemy did not press forward after dusk. The 
strenuous six-mile withdrawal to the mouth of <name key="name-001364" type="place">Olympus Pass</name> 
succeeded. The night was impenetrably black, the ground precipitous and bush-covered, every mule track a morass, and at 
any time the enemy might press on and cut things up. Companies gradually thinned out as more and more heavily burdened riflemen trudged back, until last of all the Bren-gunners 
left for the rendezvous behind the RAP on the road. From 
8.30 p.m. tired men began passing the check post carrying practically all their arms, ammunition and equipment, and slogged 
on through the mud and up the pass road. Flares going up on 
each flank showed where the enemy was following the withdrawal, but after a while darkness, the rough going, and demolitions brought them to a halt.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Forward posts of C Company (the nearest in a straight line 
to the check post) took over three hours to reach the road. 
Platoons had to come out in single file carrying rifle, pick and 
shovel, and as much ammunition as possible, and sweat up a 
steep hill covered with scrub and stunted bush to reach Company Headquarters. From here they scrambled down a narrow 
track greasy with mud (a jibbing donkey, acquired by a signaller, was flung over a cliff here), crossed a valley and creek, 
and then, in many cases actually on hands and knees, climbed 
up the other side on to the main road. The rearguard could 
hear the Germans talking when the last of C Company left 
Company Headquarters.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Half of D Company might have been captured if it had not 
been for Captain Campbell. The company destroyed everything which could't be carried, and left a few booby traps
<pb xml:id="n24" n="24"/>
behind (a grenade under pack straps was a favourite trick). 
Then the first party moved off at dusk in a heavy mist and rain 
while the German mortared the track out. However, contact 
guides posted through the bush to lead out the second half 
moved off by mistake with the first party. The rest of D Company spent an exhausting<note xml:id="fn1-24" n="64"><p>A. G. Lambert recalls: ‘Old Bill Norm had the old anti-tank rifle, damn<lb/>
heavy to carry. To dismantle it he threw the bolt away and carried the darn<lb/>
rifle for miles before he threw it away. His language was rather choice when one<lb/>
of the boys mentioned the fact he could have swapped loads with the same<lb/>
effect.’ A wounded Bren-gunner, D. J. Meek, leg smashed, was accidentally left<lb/>
behind: ‘the worst half hour I've spent in my life as I thought the Jerries wouldn't<lb/>
worry about one wounded prisoner, and I thought they would torture me or<lb/>
something like that. I sure was glad to see four chaps return for me.’</p></note> night in total darkness trying to 
find the way out through dense bush and over precipitous 
country. Finally, the last men hit the pass road at 3 a.m.</p>
        <p rend="indent">B Company, the last company to move, started off under 
heavy fire. The shelling may have been partly due to the din 
made in extricating Wally Harrison's<note xml:id="fn2-24" n="65"><p><name key="name-011230" type="person">Pte G. W. A. Harrison</name>; born NZ <date when="1911-04-18">18 Apr 1911</date>; motor assembler; wounded<lb/><date when="1941-04-16">16 Apr 1941</date>.</p></note> truck, stuck down a 
bank. Despite the shelling B Company withdrew with little 
confusion, Sergeant Charlie <name key="name-011144" type="person">Flashoff</name><note xml:id="fn3-24" n="66"><p><name key="name-011144" type="person">Sgt C. Flashoff</name>; born <name key="name-008904" type="place">London</name>, <date when="1902-07-03">3 Jul 1902</date>; depot storekeeper; wounded and<lb/>
p.w. <date when="1941-05">May 1941</date>.</p></note> showing great coolness 
as he stood by the sunken road repeating reassuringly: ‘Take 
it easy, chaps. Help your cobbers up. Take your time. Just 
round the corner you'll be safe.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">A section of pioneers under Lieutenant Wadey and Second- 
Lieutenant <name key="name-006583" type="person">MacDuff</name>,<note xml:id="fn4-24" n="67"><p><name key="name-006583" type="person">Col J. L. MacDuff</name>, MC, m.i.d.; <name key="name-202842" type="place">Nairobi</name>; born NZ <date when="1905-12-11">11 Dec 1905</date>; barrister and<lb/>
solicitor; CO <name key="name-003516" type="organisation">27 (MG) Bn</name> Sep 1943-Feb 1944; <name key="name-001173" type="organisation">25 Bn</name> Feb-Jun 1944; Adv Base<lb/>
<name key="name-004368" type="organisation">2 NZEF</name> Jun-Jul 1944; Supreme Court judge, Kenya.</p></note> with a carrier, remained by the prepared demolition by a check point just behind the old positions. 
The detonation was delayed because the three officers and forty 
men from D Company had not checked through. Finally, at 
1 a.m. on 17 April, Colonel Andrew, satisfied the D Company 
party would not be coming out that way, ordered the engineers 
to blow. They also blew the pass road in seven places.</p>
        <p rend="indent">On foot and (if lucky) by motor transport,<note xml:id="fn5-24" n="68"><p>One party, told to get into the first empty truck reached, struggled on in the<lb/>
downpour until an empty truck loomed up on the side of the road—a civilian<lb/>
truck, obviously commandeered. Thankfully the party clambered in and waited<lb/>
for the convoy to move off. Some slept, others waited anxiously. Eventually Lieutenant Clapham (transport officer) and Sergeant Bob Smith appeared on motor-cycles and told them all transport had gone. The red-faced soldiers found they<lb/>
had parked in a useless old civilian truck jacked up on blocks of wood and without wheels.</p></note> the battalion
<pb xml:id="n25" n="25"/>
moved back from <name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name> while shells from 25-pounders 
whistled overhead to the enemy positions. Vivid muzzle flashes 
cut open the darkness. At 4 a.m. most of the battalion had 
reached <name key="name-002868" type="place">Ay Dhimitrios</name>, wet, cold, hungry and exhausted—and 
very much wiser men. When reporting to <name key="name-207994" type="person">General Freyberg</name>, 
Brigadier Hargest wrote of 22 Battalion's ‘steady withdrawal, 
absolutely to time, without any excitement. They had borne 
the heat and burden of the day.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Four explosions, ripping the road ineffectively apart, delayed 
the invader and signed off the stand at <name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name>, which had 
cost the battalion fewer than two dozen casualties.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The retreating infantry, trudging along in the downpour, 
heard the first demolition explode after midnight. The second 
went off at 2 a.m., when most of the battalion was well on the 
way to <name key="name-002868" type="place">Ay Dhimitrios</name>, at the south-western end of the pass. 
The next, fired within two hours, disturbed none of the exhausted soldiers' sleep,<note xml:id="fn1-25" n="69"><p>‘We were sited in defensive positions before dawn and told to dig in on the<lb/>
barren rocky hillside,’ writes a lieutenant. ‘This we were too exhausted to do,<lb/>
and all except the sentries lay down and slept on the sodden ground with no<lb/>
covering except their greatcoats. I can remember thinking that the weakest of us<lb/>
might easily die of exposure that night, but I was gratified when each one responded<lb/>
to a shake and made short work of a very welcome mess-tin of bully stew.’</p></note> and by the time of the final explosion, 
at 7 a.m. on 17 April, B Company, moving along like <choice><orig>sleep-<lb/>
walkers</orig><reg>sleepwalkers</reg></choice> through the little village of <name key="name-002868" type="place">Ay Dhimitrios</name>, rubbed their 
eyes in astonishment. It looked like a dream, something quite 
out of this world: the few women moving about the cobbled 
streets all wore nineteenth-century crinolines. B Company, with 
next to no sleep, was back on duty again, moving up the hillside through the village and standing to against the expected 
German follow-up. In the thin rain and sleet Jack Hagen, like 
many more of his comrades, huddled miserably under a sodden 
blanket for shelter, while one man dozed and another kept 
watch.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Not long after dawn the battalion, united again, moved back 
about three miles, partly on foot and partly by truck, and 
formed alongside the Maoris a new line at the head of the pass. 
Here weary, muddy soldiers revelled in hot food again, sent 
up from B Echelon together with mail from home, some of the 
letters no more than four weeks old.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n26" n="26"/>
        <p rend="indent">At 3 p.m. the battalion (less A Company, staying for an 
hour's rearguard) was moving south fast, bunched under the 
canopies of 4 RMT Company's three-tonners and enjoying 
tinned fruit taken from abandoned dumps—the first time tinned fruit had been on the battalion menu for months. Many 
of these lorries showed signs of strafing and bombing, a pointer 
to what might lie ahead on the way down to the <name key="name-001392" type="place">Thermopylae</name> 
line. Luckily the rain and the mist round <name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name> had held 
off the <name key="name-000868" type="organisation">Luftwaffe</name>, for the battalion had been swallowed in a 
great river of army traffic scurrying south, soon swollen (at the 
crossroads by the hamlet of <name key="name-003542" type="place">Elevtherokhorion</name>) with heavily 
laden trucks, carriers, and guns getting out from the northern 
end of the collapsed <name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name> line. But so far the road surfaces 
were good, and about dusk the battalion passed through <name key="name-001017" type="place">Larisa</name>, 
the first town the men had seen thoroughly devastated from 
the air. First an earthquake (promptly taken advantage of and 
exploited by Mussolini's airmen) had struck the town; then 
came the <name key="name-000868" type="organisation">Luftwaffe</name>. Torn buildings sagged into streets heaped 
with rubble and gashed with craters and here and there flames 
danced on splintered beam and blackened ruin. Private 
<name key="name-011249" type="person">Hilder</name><note xml:id="fn1-26" n="70"><p><name key="name-011249" type="person">Pte C. J. Hilder</name>; <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>; born <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>, <date when="1910-09-10">10 Sep 1910</date>; machinist;<lb/>
wounded and p.w. <date when="1941-04-29">29 Apr 1941</date>.</p></note> remembers the storks among this desolation. ‘You 
could see them on their nests, up on top of the remaining chimneys.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Tom De <name key="name-011101" type="person">Lisle</name><note xml:id="fn2-26" n="71"><p><name key="name-011101" type="person">WO I A. H. M. De Lisle</name>; Te Whaiti; born <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>, <date when="1904-08-14">14 Aug 1904</date>; company director.</p></note> wrote: ‘Despite the fact that they knew the 
troops were withdrawing, the Greek people were kindness itself, producing boiled eggs, wine and bread for which they 
staunchly refused to accept any drachmae in payment—not by 
any means the last example of Greek loyalty and kindness.’ 
But other men remember Australian hospitality by this wrecked 
town, and Lance-Corporal <name key="name-011061" type="person">Cleghorn</name><note xml:id="fn3-26" n="72"><p><name key="name-011061" type="person">Capt A. A. Cleghorn</name>; <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>; born <name key="name-120105" type="place">Morrinsville</name>, <date when="1915-03-11">11 Mar 1915</date>; insurance<lb/>
clerk.</p></note> notes: ‘We carried out 
an exchange for tinned beer. The exchange was effected in 
transit, with a man sitting on the bonnet of the truck tossing 
tins to the Aussies in the back of their transport, and catching 
tinned beer in exchange.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The headlong retreat from <name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name> (‘We fled like the Ities
<pb xml:id="n27" n="27"/>
in the desert’) was now about to tax the patience of 5 Brigade. 
From the <name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name> line the brigade was ordered to go by the 
coastal road to <name key="name-004904" type="place">Volos</name>, where it would form a rearguard. But 
only a few hours after the brigade had left <name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name> orders 
were changed suddenly, as the coast road was impassable. The 
brigade was to use the main road and turn east to <name key="name-004904" type="place">Volos</name> beyond <name key="name-004022" type="place">Lamia</name>. Some groups learned of the switch in plans at 
<name key="name-001017" type="place">Larisa</name>, and some did not, for communications were poor and 
under great strain. Trouble for 22 Battalion began in the night 
at <name key="name-004543" type="place">Pharsala</name>, about 20 miles south of <name key="name-001017" type="place">Larisa</name>. The night was 
pitch dark. The road, in grade and width like a metalled 
country road in New Zealand, was suddenly knotted with 
traffic tangles.<note xml:id="fn1-27" n="73"><p>This road, <name key="name-001017" type="place">Larisa</name>-<name key="name-004022" type="place">Lamia</name>, had been reserved exclusively for Australian traffic.<lb/>
New Zealanders were switched on to it as an emergency measure, and here and<lb/>
there were roundly abused for trespassing.</p></note></p>
        <p rend="indent">Near <name key="name-004543" type="place">Pharsala</name> (‘the father of all traffic jams’), some military 
police tried to switch New Zealand units off the choked road, 
and here Colonel <name key="name-011537" type="person">Row</name><note xml:id="fn2-27" n="74"><p><name key="name-011537" type="person">Brig R. A. Row</name>, DSO and bar, m.i.d., Legion of Merit (US); Upper Hutt;<lb/>
born <name key="name-007584" type="place">Christchurch</name>, <date when="1888-07-30">30 Jul 1888</date>; Regular soldier; <name key="name-004367" type="organisation">1 NZEF</name> 1914-19 (CO 3 (Res)<lb/>
Bn); comd 8 Bde, 3 NZ Div, Mar 1942-Dec 1943.</p></note> (a New Zealand officer attached to 
<name key="name-000594" type="organisation">Anzac Corps</name> Headquarters) quite innocently added to the confusion, thereby starting a rumour of a ‘Fifth Columnist New 
Zealand officer’. The Colonel, acting on instructions from 
<name key="name-000594" type="organisation">Anzac Corps</name>, used a petrol company's road map (the kind given 
to unsuspecting tourists), which showed a comfortable road 
leading east to <name key="name-004904" type="place">Volos</name>, to divert some of 22 Battalion, who found 
to their dismay and disgust that the road after a while petered 
out into an ox-track. It seems that about 200 men from the 
battalion, including Major Hart, went this way; the trucks 
dumped the riflemen in the dark and made off to gather more 
soldiers in the north. Lieutenant Donald (14 Platoon C Company) refused to be diverted anywhere and safely reached the 
<name key="name-001107" type="place">Molos</name> area nearly a day ahead of the battalion. Furthermore, 
Donald's group gathered enough canned beer from an abandoned canteen ‘to give every man in the Battalion two cans, 
and every man in C Company, six cans.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Another part of the battalion, A Company, was hopelessly 
lost, and vanished (on paper) for twenty-four hours. The rest 
of the battalion, strung out and scattered among the scurrying
<pb xml:id="n28" n="28"/>
transport (it was now 1 a.m. on 18 April), carried on down the 
main road south to <name key="name-004022" type="place">Lamia</name>, in the last hours of darkness striking 
a packet of trouble on the hilly pass before <name key="name-004022" type="place">Lamia</name>: another 
traffic jam, trucks piled up on the narrow road, some over the 
side, transport banking up, several trucks on fire. Flames could 
have drawn night bombers; certainly the daylight would draw 
attacks on the helplessly stalled transport. The sheltering dark 
would not last much longer. A path was cleared by tipping 
trucks ahead over the bank (Battalion Headquarters truck went 
over too). So the greater part of the battalion got through to 
<name key="name-004022" type="place">Lamia</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Some groups were near <name key="name-004022" type="place">Lamia</name> township (but do not seem 
to have suffered any casualties) when the <name key="name-000868" type="organisation">Luftwaffe</name> struck. 
‘Our attention was drawn to the raid by the local peasants. 
We were driving along and couldn't of course hear the planes 
for the truck engine. Suddenly we noticed the people in the 
fields rushing frantically away from the road and taking cover. 
We got out of the truck just in time to see the Stukas circling 
over the town and then peeling off one by one in their dive. 
Most impressive.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">At <name key="name-004022" type="place">Lamia</name> air raids were by no means the only headache. 
Here Major Laws and B Company (ignoring orders to change 
direction at troubled <name key="name-004543" type="place">Pharsala</name>) were now switched east to 
<name key="name-004904" type="place">Volos</name>, the original destination; so was Major <name key="name-004047" type="person">Leggat</name><note xml:id="fn1-28" n="75"><p><name key="name-004047" type="person">Lt-Col J. Leggat</name>, ED; <name key="name-007584" type="place">Christchurch</name>; born <name key="name-120108" type="place">Glasgow</name>, <date when="1900-12-19">19 Dec 1900</date>; school-teacher; NZLO GHQ MEF 1941-42; GSO I Army HQ (NZ) 1942-43; <choice><orig>head-<lb/>
master</orig><reg>headmaster</reg></choice>, Christchurch Boys' High School.</p></note> with 
most of the B Echelon transport; so also were Colonel Andrew, 
Second-Lieutenants MacDuff and <name key="name-011237" type="person">Hawthorn</name>,<note xml:id="fn2-28" n="76"><p><name key="name-011237" type="person">Capt T. R. Hawthorn</name>; <name key="name-002817" type="place">Auckland</name>; born NZ <date when="1914-03-24">24 Mar 1914</date>; school-teacher;<lb/>
wounded <date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>; p.w <date when="1942-07-22">22 Jul 1942</date>.</p></note> and others, and 
‘at <name key="name-004904" type="place">Volos</name> we were loudly cheered by the inhabitants, who seemingly thought we had come as their saviours—and just as noisily 
condemned when we retired.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">At <name key="name-004904" type="place">Volos</name> the hunt for many missing platoons began. The 
rearguard at <name key="name-004904" type="place">Volos</name> was now unnecessary, and the battalion 
was ordered to <name key="name-001107" type="place">Molos</name>. MacDuff, Hawthorn and others, on 
motor-cycle and in truck, roamed far afield, collecting isolated 
parties which were stranded, lost, or marching south, and 
killing sheep on the way for provisions. Suffice it to say that 
somehow, by good luck and much hunting, the battalion, here
<pb xml:id="n29" n="29"/>
and there running the gauntlet of daytime air raids, gathered 
together safely again at <name key="name-001107" type="place">Molos</name>, the final destination, by 19 
April, and was resting thankfully after digging deep slit trenches.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The New Zealand Division, now in its last week in <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>, 
was guarding an area including the famous <name key="name-001392" type="place">Thermopylae</name> pass 
where heroic fighting took place between the Spartans and the 
Persians more than <date when="2000">2000</date> years ago. Fifth Brigade units, making 
the best possible use of trees for cover and camouflage, prepared 
positions for holding the coast road and the foothills south of 
<name key="name-004022" type="place">Lamia</name> and the Sperkhios River, which ran along the whole 
length of the front, cutting through a marshy plain.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Enemy planes arrived over the area about breakfast time 
on Sunday, 20 April, hunting and blasting away, coolly bombing and strafing the road and scouring the battalion area from 
as low as 200-300 feet. Formations of the <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> were said to be 
on their way, but none arrived. The brief appearance of four 
Hurricanes over the bay during the morning was most heartening, and later when one suddenly reappeared and shot down 
a Junkers into the sea, as one man the troops along the front, 
regardless of exposing themselves, rose from their trenches to 
cheer. It was hateful—humiliating—sticking to a hole in the 
ground, unable to hit back.<note xml:id="fn1-29" n="77"><p>Soldiers, calling the <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> ‘Rare as Fairies’ and much worse, spoke bitterly<lb/>
about the total lack of air cover in the move to the <name key="name-001392" type="place">Thermopylae</name> line: the Air<lb/>
Force tartly replied that soldiers should have ‘levelled their ignorant criticism’ at<lb/>
their own commanders who choked the roads with endless columns of MT and<lb/>
should have withdrawn ‘exclusively by night’.</p></note> Around noon bombing caused 
the first battalion casualties since <name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name>. A few men had 
bunched together to draw their rations. One bomb collected 
a group of D Company, killing five and wounding six—more 
than half the casualties at <name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name> in one blow.<note xml:id="fn2-29" n="78"><p>Casualties in the midday bombing were: Killed: <name key="name-010701" type="person">2 Lt G. D. McGlashan</name>,<lb/>
<name key="name-011116" type="person">Sgt J. S. H. Dring</name>, Cpls A. E. O'Neill and G. M. Sandiford, and Pte L. B. Bosworth. Wounded: 2 Lt J. D. W. Ormond, <name key="name-010983" type="person">L-Cpl A. T. Blakeley</name>, and Ptes D. L.<lb/>
George, A. G. L. Lambert, all of D Coy. <name key="name-011065" type="person">Pte J. Cockroft</name> (of Bn HQ and<lb/>
attached to the company) was fatally wounded. 2 Lt D. H. Nancarrow (C Coy)<lb/>
was wounded by a bomb splinter.</p></note></p>
        <p rend="indent">‘This was the first <hi rend="i">really low-level</hi> bombing I personally can recall,’ writes one man. ‘The fact I can best recall is being able 
actually to see the bombs drop away from the fuselage of the 
plane and come down in a long curve. One seemed to have 
plenty of time to watch and then duck below ground level in 
the slit trench.’ But another man felt this way: ‘Bombing is
<pb xml:id="n30" n="30"/>
pretty uncomfortable. You can see the black dot (usually three 
of them) detach itself from the plane, turn slowly over and then 
come apparently straight down to you. Its screech gets louder 
and louder. You bitterly regret that you grew so large and then 
there's a bang 50 or 60 yards away.’</p>
        <p rend="indent"><name key="name-001392" type="place">Thermopylae</name>, for most of the battalion, meant taking up defensive positions near the Springs of <name key="name-001392" type="place">Thermopylae</name>—a spa with 
a hot sulphur stream—digging and wiring, working away until 
air sentries gave the alarm of enemy planes heading in, taking 
cover, changing position a little, watching artillery open up at 
the enemy feeling out across the plain, and diving to earth 
when shells came back. Lights blazing, German transport 
streamed down the hill behind <name key="name-004022" type="place">Lamia</name> all night (21-22 April). 
The battalion watched, started counting, and soon gave up, 
but no attack gathered after dawn. In mid-afternoon on 22 
April Colonel Andrew, returning from a brigade conference, 
passed on the news that <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>, with the Germans now bursting down below <name key="name-020121" type="place">Albania</name> on the opposite coast, had capitulated. 
All British forces were to be evacuated. Sixth Brigade would 
remain with the artillery at <name key="name-001392" type="place">Thermopylae</name>, but 5 Brigade was 
to go at once. Immediately word went round to stop work on 
positions and rest as much as possible. All gear except the material a man could carry was to be buried or destroyed without tell-tale signs—fires, for instance, were prohibited. As if in farewell 
twelve Messerschmitts appeared, one by one breaking formation and diving at selected targets, spraying explosive, incendiary and tracer, then continuing the dive to almost tree-top 
level as they left. Ignoring air activity and orders to stay put, 
a <name key="name-009222" type="organisation">Royal Horse Artillery</name> officer, who had camped near C Company, slipped off in his truck and returned with it laden with 
tobacco and cigarettes from an abandoned <name key="name-023795" type="place">Naafi</name>. The supplies 
from this well-remembered Englishman lasted some men well 
through Crete.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Under cover of darkness 5 Brigade moved back 17 miles to 
<name key="name-010943" type="place">Ay Konstandinos</name>, on the coast. Major Hart commanded a 
rearguard of sorts for 5 Brigade. With Second-Lieutenants 
Leeks and <name key="name-011038" type="person">Carter</name><note xml:id="fn1-30" n="79"><p><name key="name-011038" type="person">Capt T. G. N. Carter</name>; <name key="name-120035" type="place">Lower Hutt</name>; born Warkworth, <date when="1916-06-25">25 Jun 1916</date>; law clerk;<lb/>
p.w. <date when="1942-07-15">15 Jul 1942</date>.</p></note> and fifty-eight men, together with a party 
from 23 Battalion, Hart and his force stayed, the group from
<pb xml:id="n31" n="31"/>
22 Battalion spreading out and pretending it was a brigade, 
and the 23 Battalion party holding a bridge ahead on the main 
road from <name key="name-004022" type="place">Lamia</name>. The carrier patrol group (nineteen altogether 
now, and under Captain Denis Anderson) patrolled dank river 
flats in front of the <name key="name-001392" type="place">Thermopylae</name>-<name key="name-001107" type="place">Molos</name> line, hearing in the 
night thousands of frogs, the weird cries from some night birds, 
and watching the twinkling lights of the German transport 
coming down to <name key="name-004022" type="place">Lamia</name>. Except for a minor flurry round the 
bridge the night was peaceful. From dawn until noon on 23 
April enemy planes cruised above <name key="name-001392" type="place">Thermopylae</name>. In mid-afternoon the party by the bridge dealt with about eighteen Germans 
on motor-cycles, and later fired on an attempt to cross the river 
towards dusk. Then the whole of Hart's force was pulled out, 
‘fortunately for us 12 hours before the battle commenced,’ 
wrote Hart. ‘I think [Brigadier Barrowclough<note xml:id="fn1-31" n="80"><p>Maj-Gen Rt. Hon. Sir Harold Barrowclough, KCMG, CB, DSO and bar,<lb/>
MC, ED, m.i.d., MC (Gk), Legion of Merit (US), Croix de Guerre; <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>;<lb/>
born <name key="name-021329" type="place">Masterton</name>, <date when="1894-06-23">23 Jun 1894</date>; barrister and solicitor; NZ Rifle Bde 1915-19<lb/>
(CO 4 Bn); comd 7 NZ Inf Bde in <name key="name-005787" type="place">UK</name>, <date when="1940">1940</date>; <name key="name-001165" type="organisation">6 Bde</name> May 1940-Feb 1942; GOC<lb/>
<name key="name-004368" type="organisation">2 NZEF</name> in <name key="name-008892" type="place">Pacific</name> and GOC 3 NZ Div, Aug 1942-Oct 1944; Chief Justice of<lb/>
New Zealand.</p></note>] felt he should 
do so as we were not part of his brigade, and he didn't want to 
see us scuppered protecting him after our own brigade was 
safely away.’ Hart's infantry were taken by the carriers into 
<name key="name-001107" type="place">Molos</name>.<note xml:id="fn2-31" n="81"><p>At <name key="name-001107" type="place">Molos</name> the carriers and the infantry in Hart's party split up. The infantry<lb/>
from now on stayed with or near <name key="name-001165" type="organisation">6 Bde</name>'s headquarters until evacuation south of<lb/>
<name key="name-003246" type="place">Corinth Canal</name>. Although once taking up an anti-parachute role very briefly,<lb/>
they did not go into action; they reached <name key="name-001387" type="place">Port Said</name> on 2 May in the <hi rend="i">Comliebank</hi><lb/>
and <hi rend="i"><name key="name-009753" type="place">Thurland Castle</name></hi>.</p></note>
</p>
        <p rend="indent">The carriers at <name key="name-001107" type="place">Molos</name> gave protection to a demolition party under Lt-Col G. H. 
Clifton, joined <name key="name-001158" type="organisation">Divisional Cavalry</name> near <name key="name-000608" type="place">Athens</name>, filled up with petrol from the 
<name key="name-001158" type="organisation">Divisional Cavalry</name> dump, and then made south towards <name key="name-000776" type="place">Corinth</name> until one by 
one the motors failed. Picked up by truck, the carrier men missed the action the 
<name key="name-001158" type="organisation">Divisional Cavalry</name> fought against parachutists at <name key="name-000776" type="place">Corinth</name>, and Anderson and his 
men, carried off with <name key="name-001165" type="organisation">6 Bde</name>, were soon back in Egypt.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Meanwhile, all through this day (23 April), the bulk of the 
battalion rested under cover in the olive groves at Ay Konstandinos, secure from the searching <name key="name-000868" type="organisation">Luftwaffe</name>. One party, 
boots off, slept soundly on a pine-covered slope until Tom 
<name key="name-010956" type="person">Barton</name><note xml:id="fn3-31" n="82"><p><name key="name-010956" type="person">L-Cpl J. L. T. Barton</name>; <name key="name-021329" type="place">Masterton</name>; born NZ <date when="1911-06-25">25 Jun 1911</date>; shepherd; p.w.<lb/><date when="1942-07-15">15 Jul 1942</date>.</p></note> bellowed, ‘Get out! Get out!’, starting a mad, cursing 
scramble over thorn and thistle. Nothing happened. The party 
limped back to find that a falling pine cone and not a grenade
<pb xml:id="n32" n="32"/>
had struck Tom in his sleep. He had warned his comrades with 
what, happily, was not his last breath.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The battalion drew reserve rations and enough petrol for 
150 miles from a neighbouring supply depot. Up with the 
rations came a dozen brown demijohns of rum. In the cold 
and wet of <name key="name-120051" type="place">Olympus</name> men had been told there was no rum in 
<name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>. Considering rum would increase the dangers of the 
night drive ahead, the CO ordered Tom Hawthorn into action. 
Swinging a mean pick, the Intelligence Officer despatched the 
lot.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The battalion pulled out at 8.30 p.m. on a nine-hour run 
over 140 miles to another olive grove near <name key="name-000608" type="place">Athens</name>. Headlights 
were used most of the way. The troops passed through <name key="name-000608" type="place">Athens</name> 
in the early dawn and felt a useless pity for the abandoned 
Greeks. Their last day in <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name> (24 April) went by under the 
olives. German pilots prowled overhead, but found nothing. 
Men, bitter and apprehensive, reduced their packs to the bare 
minimum, ate heartily from reserve rations, stored away bully 
and biscuits in overcoat pockets, and passed the time sleeping 
or playing cards. Drachmae notes, now thought worthless, were 
gambled away recklessly or were used to light cigarettes and 
pipes. Trucks not needed in the shift to the beach in the night 
were ruined by draining away all oil and water, flinging grit 
into the petrol, and then running the engine hard until it seized, 
when picks added the finishing touches. Some of these trucks 
had not covered <date when="2000">2000</date> miles.</p>
        <p rend="indent">At 9 p.m. that night 22 Battalion set off on its last drive in 
<name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>. Twenty-one members would remain behind as prisoners, but exactly how and where these men were captured is 
not clear.<note xml:id="fn1-32" n="83"><p>22 Bn's casualties in <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name> were:
<table rows="5" cols="2"><row><cell>Killed in action or died of wounds</cell><cell>12</cell></row><row><cell>Wounded</cell><cell>19</cell></row><row><cell>Wounded and prisoners of war</cell><cell>4</cell></row><row><cell>Prisoners of war</cell><cell>17</cell></row><row><cell/><cell>52</cell></row></table>
</p></note></p>
        <p rend="indent">The running rearguard of <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name> – more running 
than rearguard – was over. Inside the trucks nobody talked 
much. The 20-mile run ended a few miles short of <name key="name-001232" type="place">Porto Rafti</name> 
(‘D’ Beach), head over heels into the final flurry of a bewildered 
campaign, ‘a hellava schemozzle: liaison officers bustling, 
yelling, rushing round in circles, kicking out the headlights,
<pb xml:id="n33" n="33"/>
demanding men sling away arms and equipment—orders and 
counter-orders from every Tom, Dick and Harry.’ The battalion had taken great pains to keep all its rifles, essential equipment, mortars and precious radio sets, yet in this confusion of 
orders all the radios and some rifles were dumped.<note xml:id="fn1-33" n="84"><p>Some embarkation officers had taken far too literally an order from General<lb/>
Wavell that in quitting <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name> men were to take precedence over arms. Those<lb/>
radio sets, wantonly dumped on <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>'s shores, might have changed the story<lb/>
of Crete.</p></note> ‘These 
b—s going over our trucks and equipment forced us out 
of our trucks too early and left us, tired enough as we were, to 
footslog several miles to the beach. But everything went perfectly down by the shore where the landing craft lay.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Out in the darkness waited HMS <hi rend="i"><name key="name-207116" type="ship">Glengyle</name></hi> and <name key="name-110475" type="ship">HMS <hi rend="i">Calcutta</hi></name>. 
‘One followed the queue down to a mess deck where the Navy 
was dishing out big mugs of Navy cocoa and fresh bread on 
a slab of bully beef, while a matelot flourishes a jar with a 
“Mustard, laddie?”</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘Safe again in the hands of the Navy.’</p>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="n34" n="34"/>
      <div xml:id="c2" type="chapter">
        <head>CHAPTER 2<lb/>
<name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>, <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name></head>
        <p><hi rend="sc">Of</hi> all the days of the war one stands alone in the minds of 
the battalion. The day is 20 May at <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>, Crete.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Twenty-second Battalion's area had the same kind of features 
as the rest of the coastal strip round <name key="name-000735" type="place">Canea</name>, which is near the 
north-west corner of Crete. Foothills of the main mountain 
range came down towards the sea, and the battalion position 
included two spurs running north and south. ‘<name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name> was a wonderful place, almost every inch cultivated with grapes, olive 
groves, orange groves, and grain,’ wrote Sergeant-Major 
<name key="name-011493" type="person">Pender</name><note xml:id="fn1-34" n="1"><p><name key="name-011493" type="person">WO II J. S. Pender</name>; Kawau Island, <name key="name-002817" type="place">Auckland</name>; born <name key="name-008850" type="place">Sydney</name>, <date when="1894-04-08">8 Apr 1894</date>;
fitter-engineer; NZ MG Corps 1914-18.</p></note> ‘To get on the high ground and see the various squares 
of different-coloured cultivation was a wonderful sight.’ In 
Captain Thornton's<note xml:id="fn2-34" n="2"><p><name key="name-011637" type="person">Lt-Col T. Thornton</name>; <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>; born <name key="name-120059" type="place">Waihi</name>, <date when="1910-08-24">24 Aug 1910</date>; clerk.</p></note> view: ‘The lack of a thousand-and-one 
Army forms was a Godsend.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">On the north the battalion's boundary was the sea with a 
sand and pebble beach unaffected by tides. Between this and 
the foothills was the airfield. <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name> had no good airfields. To 
the east of <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> airfield lay the hamlet of <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name> (often called, 
mistakenly, <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>). <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name>, marking the battalion's eastern 
boundary, was typically Greek. The dome of the Orthodox 
Church rose above the houses, which were flat-roofed and 
crowded. The streets were narrow, dirty, smelly. The western 
boundary, the Tavronitis River, had a gravel and boulder bed 
600 to 800 yards wide. The ‘river’ itself was only a shallow 
creek, like some of the smaller snow-fed rivers of <name key="name-006540" type="place">Canterbury</name>. 
The area west of the river was not defended<note xml:id="fn3-34" n="3"><p>‘I am quite certain that Col. Andrew remarked after the visit [of Brigadier
Hargest] that he pointed out the need for troops across the Tavronitis from 22,
but for some reason, probably lack of troops available, this was not put into
effect.’—Sergeant F. N. Twigg, 22 Battalion Intelligence Sergeant.</p></note> Had the Maori 
Battalion been there instead of in a relatively quiet area five 
miles to the east, <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name> might not have fallen.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Much of the flat land in the battalion's area was covered
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP003a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP003a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP003a-g"/><head><name key="name-003325" type="place">CRETE</name></head><figDesc>Coloured map of <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name></figDesc></figure>
<pb xml:id="n35" n="35"/>
with groves of olive trees sixteen to eighteen feet high. The 
groves gave almost complete (though rather obvious) cover from 
the air. The hillsides were terraced with stone banks and planted 
with grape-vines, the chunky, black trunks two to three feet 
high and in full leaf. These vines were terrors for tripping up 
a man in a hurry. The broken land, the olive groves and the 
vineyards made it impossible to find a spot which gave a good 
view of the whole battalion area. This prevented development 
of supporting fire. To make matters worse small ravines, ten 
to forty feet deep, fanned out from the bottom of the eastern 
spur to the coast.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Mention should be made of the <name key="name-003573" type="organisation">Fleet Air Arm</name> men at 
<name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>, for criticism still comes from several quarters of 
‘leaderless and demoralised mobs’ of airmen milling most disconcertingly about the battalion's area when battle was joined, 
for indeed they were a hindrance from the infantryman's viewpoint.</p>
        <p rend="indent">In <date when="1941-02">February 1941</date> aircraft from the <hi rend="i">Illustrious</hi> (heavily divebombed west of <name key="name-004214" type="place">Malta</name> the month before) were transferred to 
<name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>, reinforced by fighters from Egypt, moved to southern 
<name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>, and in five weeks sank five Italian ships, damaged five 
more, and attacked <name key="name-006216" type="place">Brindisi</name>. The squadron returned to <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>, 
now under <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> command (it should be noted), the Swordfish 
and Blenheims returned to Egypt, and the <name key="name-003573" type="organisation">Fleet Air Arm</name> and 
<name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> pilots took turns in flying the handful of Hurricanes, 
Fulmars and Gladiators. On 17 May only one plane, a Hurricane, was airworthy;<note xml:id="fn1-35" n="4"><p>‘The garrison was expecting eight more Hurricanes with fresh pilots on 20 May
(Lt-Cmdr Black had been sent back to <name key="name-000576" type="place">Alexandria</name> to fetch them), but before
they could reach the island the airborne invasion began.’—<hi rend="i"><name key="name-003573" type="organisation">Fleet Air Arm</name></hi> (prepared
for the Admiralty by the Ministry of Information, <date when="1943">1943</date>), a booklet which shows
that the <name key="name-003573" type="organisation">Fleet Air Arm</name> men generally acquitted themselves well ‘against hopeless
odds and impossible conditions' in the tragic twilight of <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>.</p></note> it was piloted by Lieutenant A. R. 
Ramsay, RNVR, who had shot down two enemy aircraft the 
day before. This steadfast officer's testimony will be given later.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The battalion, a little over 600 strong after the campaign in 
<name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>, marched into the <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> area at the end of April, and 
‘from about 8 May until 20 May he [German aircraft] gave 
us a shake-up about every couple of hours,’ noted Major Jim 
Leggat. ‘You feel terribly naked swimming in the sea if a plane
<pb xml:id="n36" n="36"/>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22Ba036a"><graphic url="WH2-22Ba036a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22Ba036a-g"/><head><hi rend="sc">fifth brigade, maleme, <date when="1941-05-20">20 may 1941</date></hi></head><figDesc>Black and white map of army positions</figDesc></figure>
<pb xml:id="n37" n="37"/>
is machine-gunning.’ At dawn and dusk everyone stood-to: 
from 5.30 a.m. to 7 a.m. and from 8.15 p.m. to 9 p.m.</p>
        <p rend="indent">A strong attack on <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name> was expected from sea and air. On 
17 May troops heard from Intelligence ‘that Jerry would attack 
on that day, the 17th, or the 19th and would bring 15,000 
troops by parachute and 20,000 by sea.’ Fifth Brigade, holding 
a position running west from <name key="name-004554" type="place">Platanias</name> to the Tavronitis River 
and extending up to two miles inland, was charged with ‘a 
spirited defence…to counter attack and destroy immediately.’ Altogether, representatives of <hi rend="i">fourteen formations and units</hi><note xml:id="fn1-37" n="5"><p><name key="name-003205" type="organisation">Royal Navy</name>, <name key="name-022899" type="organisation">Royal Marines</name>, <name key="name-003573" type="organisation">Fleet Air Arm</name>, <name key="name-015594" type="organisation">Royal Tank Regiment</name>, Royal
Artillery, Royal Australian Artillery, New Zealand Artillery, New Zealand
Engineers, 21, 22, 23 and 28 Battalions, 27 (MG) Battalion, <name key="name-003198" type="organisation">Royal Air Force</name>.
Colonel Andrew had made several unsuccessful attempts to gain some sort of
co-operation from the RM, FAA, <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> and Bofors gunners in his area. The RAF
camp near the bridge seriously impaired 22 Battalion's defensive perimeter.</p></note> 
were concerned in defending <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> airfield. Commanders of 
the New Zealand units and detachments met in conference in 
the <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> Court House on 11 May so that, in Brigadier 
Hargest's words, the defence would ‘be properly co-ordinated 
and confusion avoided when an actual attack takes place.’ The 
COs of 22 and 23 Battalions had already met three days before 
to arrange SOS signals ‘should other means of communication 
fail.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Twenty-second Battalion's task was to hold the airfield and 
its approaches. Fifth Brigade had laid down: ‘In the event of 
a major landing being made on the drome, support and reserve 
coys will be utilised for immediate counter-attack under cover 
of mortars and M.G. fire….If necessary support will be 
called for from <name key="name-001171" type="organisation">23 Bn</name> and should … [communications fail] 
the call will be by “verey” signal (WHITE-GREEN-WHITE).’ 
Twenty-first and 23rd Battalions, in addition to holding their 
areas, were to be prepared for counter-attack on the airfield. 
These two units were within about one and a half miles, south-east and east, of Headquarters 22 Battalion. Twenty-eight 
(Maori) Battalion, as well as holding its area round <name key="name-004554" type="place">Platanias</name>, 
was ‘to be available for counter attack’. The order was that 22 
Battalion's position would be defended <hi rend="i">at all costs</hi>: obviously 
no plan of withdrawal was considered.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The battalion's positions looked on the map roughly like the 
mark of a deformed left foot four and a half miles round, a
<pb xml:id="n38" n="38"/>
considerable distance, and enclosing an area hopelessly large 
for all-round defence by twenty officers and 592 other ranks. 
About thirty all ranks had been evacuated sick just before the 
invasion. Headquarters Company,<note xml:id="fn1-38" n="6"><p>Three Bren carriers with drivers in charge of a corporal were on loan to 22 Battalion from <name key="name-009395" type="organisation">1 Battalion</name>, The <name key="name-009224" type="organisation">Welch Regt</name>. As the battalion's carrier platoon had
gone to Egypt from <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>, the crews for these carriers were supplied by 2 (Anti-Aircraft) Platoon under <name key="name-011155" type="person">Lt J. Forster</name>. No. 3 (Carrier) Platoon men who
had been
left behind in <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name> later escaped to Crete. They were Cpl Jim Hurne (soon
evacuated sick) and Ptes Jack Weir and Maurie Cowlrick. They manned a fourth
carrier (which had been salvaged from a sunken ship at <name key="name-001363" type="place">Suda Bay</name>) and fixed
up a Bren gun ‘with a bit of olive branch and a piece of tin.’ The second carrier
had a Bren, and the remaining two had Brownings without sights, so tracer was
used to give direction.</p><p>The three escapers mentioned above had pushed off from <name key="name-015479" type="place">Argos</name> in a Greek
boat. They made down the bay (no rudder, rowing) and pulled into the shore
for cover when planes came over. Landing on an island, they broke down the
chapel door which yielded a rudder—of sorts. On another island they stole
another boat with a useless engine and a sail and made their way to the tip of
<name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>, struck two islands (Kithira and Antikithira), and in eight days made
the western end of Crete. Rations and water were slender (a glass of wine and
a small boiled egg apiece were all they could manage for their first meal in <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name>);
‘Jack Weir had a hunch (correct) over navigation. He was a born bush-mechanic.’</p></note> turned into a rifle company, 
was in and around <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name> village; a platoon was away guarding 
the Air Ministry Experimental Station (a radar station). C 
Company was firmly planted about the airfield. D Company 
covered a bridge by the airfield and extended half a mile southwards along the east bank of the Tavronitis River (the western 
bank was <hi rend="i">not</hi> defended). A Company held high ground overlooking the riverbed and airfield; this high ground included 
a 300-foot hill called Point 107, and by this point was Battalion 
Headquarters. B Company was holding a ridge south-east of 
Point 107. The battalion, therefore, held and encircled the airfield and the vitally important Point 107. Telephones connected each company headquarters to Battalion Headquarters, 
but all lines were cut and useless when the blitz ended. An 
untrustworthy radio linked Battalion Headquarters with 5 Brigade Headquarters, four miles away to the east.</p>
        <p rend="indent">A brief glimpse at the enemy is necessary. Credit for the idea 
of invading <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name> by air is claimed by General Kurt Student.<note xml:id="fn2-38" n="7"><p>Student had the tables turned on him at <name key="name-018846" type="place">Arnhem</name> (4600 aircraft in this airborne
operation). Watching ‘an immense stream’, he exclaimed: ‘Oh, how I wish that
I had ever had such powerful means at my disposal!’ See <hi rend="i"><name key="name-206621" type="work">The Struggle for Europe</name></hi>,
by Chester Wilmot.</p></note> 
The operation (code-named MERCURY) was commanded by
<pb xml:id="n39" n="39"/>
Colonel-General Alexander Löhr. Despite close air reconnaissance and some espionage, the Germans did not locate the infantry positions accurately (our camouflage precautions had 
not been in vain), although their estimate of ten days for clearing <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name><note xml:id="fn1-39" n="8"><p>The Allied strength in <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name> on 20 May was:
<table rows="9" cols="4"><row><cell/><cell>Officers</cell><cell>Other Ranks</cell><cell>Total</cell></row><row><cell><name key="name-003205" type="organisation">Royal Navy</name></cell><cell>25</cell><cell>400</cell><cell>425</cell></row><row><cell>British Army</cell><cell>666</cell><cell>14397</cell><cell>15063</cell></row><row><cell><name key="name-022900" type="organisation">Mobile Naval Base Defence Organisation</name> (<name key="name-022899" type="organisation">Royal Marines</name>)</cell><cell>92</cell><cell><date when="1849">1849</date></cell><cell><date when="1941">1941</date></cell></row><row><cell><name key="name-003198" type="organisation">Royal Air Force</name></cell><cell>61</cell><cell>557</cell><cell>618</cell></row><row><cell>Australian Imperial Forces</cell><cell>327</cell><cell>6213</cell><cell>6540</cell></row><row><cell>Greek Army and gendarmerie</cell><cell>268</cell><cell>9990</cell><cell>10258</cell></row><row><cell>New Zealand Division</cell><cell>381</cell><cell>7321</cell><cell>7702</cell></row><row><cell/><cell><date when="1820">1820</date></cell><cell>40727</cell><cell>42547</cell></row></table>
This total includes <name key="name-022699" type="organisation">Layforce</name> (commandos),
800-strong, which landed on 24-27 May.</p></note> 
was only four days short. On the other hand, although they had planned to take all four main centres on the 
first day, none except <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> was captured within a week or 
ten days. Organisational difficulties postponed invasion from 
15 May to the 20th. Some 22,000 men were chosen for the 
whole operation, including mountain troops who could not be 
landed unless an airfield were captured or the sea route secured. 
On invasion day the four <hi rend="i">spearheads</hi> (about 10,000 men) would 
land from the air in distinct groups spaced along the northern 
coast of Crete. Nearly one-third of them would descend in the 
<name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> sector defended by 5 Brigade, where 22 Battalion, holding an area three times larger than that of 21 or 23 Battalion, 
would meet the brunt of the attack later in the day. (More 
paratroops would actually <hi rend="i">land</hi> in 23 Battalion's area; 22 Battalion would receive not only paratroops but almost all the 
glider troops, and would later have to withstand the pressure 
of two whole paratroop battalions which had landed and assembled out of reach on the undefended ground to the west.) 
Winning an airfield immediately was vital: only then could 
reinforcements arrive. The Germans clearly realised that, with 
no suitable ships and without control of the seas, the capture of 
an airfield was absolutely essential to success in Crete.</p>
        <p rend="indent">On invasion day the <hi rend="i"><name key="name-022593" type="organisation">Assault Regiment</name></hi>,<note xml:id="fn2-39" n="9"><p>A German regiment approximates to a British brigade. Four battalions of the
regiment (less two glider-borne companies committed in the <name key="name-000735" type="place">Canea</name> area) landed
at <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>.</p></note> the élite of the invasion
<pb xml:id="n40" n="40"/>
force, descended on <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>. First came the gliders, 
probably forty of them, carrying about 400 men altogether (excluding the pilots). The glider troops, about to suffer 75 per 
cent casualties, were superbly equipped—whereas 15 Platoon, 
awaiting assault on the most westerly tip of the highly prized 
airfield, had grenades of jam tins filled with concrete and plugs 
of gelignite with fuses.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The <hi rend="i"><name key="name-022593" type="organisation">Assault Regiment</name></hi>, Student's pride and joy, was to take the 
airfield and Point 107. A detachment from <hi rend="i">III Battalion</hi> plus 
some of its Regimental Headquarters, which grated down in 
belly landings just south of the Tavronitis bridge, was raked 
and cut with heavy fire (from D Company), but took the bridge. 
The detachment's commander, Major Braun, was among those 
killed. A second company of the <hi rend="i"><name key="name-022593" type="organisation">Assault Regiment</name></hi> landed its 
gliders at the mouth of the Tavronitis River and made towards 
the airfield, but was halted and held (by C Company), and its 
commander, Lieutenant Plessen, also met his death. The third 
party of gliders (a battalion headquarters and a company) 
came slanting down along the south-east and south-west slopes 
of Point 107, to be dealt with effectively by Headquarters Company and B and D Companies, and again the commander, 
Major Koch, was killed.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Soon after the gliders descended, in came the regiment's 
paratroops, about a dozen men spewing out of each fat Junkers 
52 at heights of 300 to 600 feet, some firing as they descended, 
‘indiscriminately certainly, but keeping our heads down.’ 
Glider crews could rally quickly and fight as a team, but paratroops, scattered as they were, took longer to group together. 
Three battalions of paratroops came in over <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>. Two of 
these battalions landed in comparative safety in undefended 
land west of the Tavronitis River along the coast road leading 
west from the bridge and out of 22 Battalion's reach.<note xml:id="fn1-40" n="10"><p>Less one company, which landed almost two miles inland, up the river well
beyond the New Zealand area.</p></note> Here 
was the generous reserve of strength for continuing the assault 
on the airfield. The third battalion of paratroops, descending 
all unaware of its grisly doom west of <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name> village and fairly 
close to the coast, was cut to mincemeat by 21, 22, and 23 
Battalions and an engineer detachment—two-thirds slaughtered with all their officers.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n41" n="41"/>
        <p rend="indent">The commander of the <hi rend="i"><name key="name-022593" type="organisation">Assault Regiment</name></hi>, General Meindl, 
soon to be severely wounded by 22 Battalion this day, pressed 
all available men into two assaults, one by the bridge and the 
other a right hook which crossed the river south of 22 Battalion 
and aimed north to Point 107. This two-pronged attack led 
to the crucial fighting of the day.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Twenty-second Battalion war diary: ‘<name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>. 20th May. 
Usual Mediterranean summer day. Cloudless sky, no wind, 
extreme visibility: e.g., details on mountains 20 miles to the 
south-east easily discernible.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The daily hate followed the dawn. For days the bombing 
had been increasing steadily. Flying low, fighters and bombers 
raked vineyards and olive groves. No 22 Battalion men were 
injured. The planes turned to the sea and the men prepared 
for breakfast, but again the air-raid siren sounded from the 
mysterious Air Ministry Experimental Station tucked away up 
in the hills. The time was now nearly eight o'clock. Cursing men, 
still hungry, had just taken cover in trench and under trees when 
twenty-four heavy bombers appeared, the first of an endless 
fleet, wave upon wave, bombing, strafing, diving. The approach of the fleet was first felt through the ground rather than 
noticed from the sky, one man remembers. The whole of 5 
Brigade's area received an unprecedented rain of bombs, particularly 22 Battalion's area, with an estimated 3000 bombs 
falling round the airfield. Dust and smoke billowed up; the 
earth shook with explosions; trees splintered; slit trenches caved 
in (in one substantial five-man trench only Joe Chittenden<note xml:id="fn1-41" n="11"><p>Sgt A.J. Chittenden; Waitara; born <name key="name-008123" type="place">Wanganui</name>, <date when="1914-04-17">17 Apr 1914</date>; baker; wounded
<date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>.</p></note> 
survived); men, dazed and numb with the fury of the assault, 
bled from ears and mouths. ‘The silence after the [blitz],’ writes 
Sergeant <name key="name-011553" type="person">Sargeson</name>,<note xml:id="fn2-41" n="12"><p><name key="name-011553" type="person">Lt A. M. Sargeson</name>; <name key="name-005696" type="place">Hawera</name>; born <name key="name-005696" type="place">Hawera</name>, <date when="1915-06-09">9 Jun 1915</date>; clerk.</p></note> ‘was eerie, acrid and ominous.’ Says Sergeant <name key="name-011657" type="person">Twigg</name><note xml:id="fn3-41" n="13"><p><name key="name-011657" type="person">Lt F. N. Twigg</name>; Hastings; born Feilding, <date when="1914-09-02">2 Sep 1914</date>; shepherd; wounded 
<date when="1944-10-03">3 Oct 1944</date>.</p></note> of the intelligence section: ‘The immediate countryside before densely covered by grape vines and olive trees 
was bare of any foliage when the bombing attack ceased and 
the ground was practically regularly covered by large and small 
bomb craters.’</p>
        <pb xml:id="n42" n="42"/>
        <p rend="indent">A thick blanket of dust and smoke rising hundreds of feet 
blurred or blotted out many a man's view. Under cover of this 
the gliders and then the paratroops came in, and most of them 
were down by nine o'clock.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The majesty of the arrival of this armada and the descent 
certainly awed but definitely did not demoralise the New Zealanders. Action came as a relief—almost a grim joy—after 
cowering under cover for a fortnight of air raids, and the remark, ‘Just like the duckshooting season!’, was widespread at 
the time. Indeed the First World War was worlds away from 
this unique invasion, in which the enemy, the artillery, and the 
machine guns came from the sky, and a solid front no longer 
existed; each man was a front in himself, and the enemy could 
strike from in front, from both flanks, from behind, separately 
or simultaneously. In this new war the very moments were 
precious; in those first deadly, vulnerable ten minutes hundreds 
of paratroops were slain as they swayed and stumbled and 
groped and grouped over 5 Brigade's ground.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Captain Campbell (D Company): ‘My first thought was 
“This is an airborne landing”. I still have vivid recollections 
of the gliders coming down with their quiet swish, swish, dipping down and swishing in.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Private <name key="name-011137" type="person">Fellows</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-42" n="14"><p><name key="name-011137" type="person">S-Sgt N. N. Fellows</name>, m.i.d.; <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>; born <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>, <date when="1918-06-06">6 Jun 1918</date>; salesman.</p></note> (HQ Company): ‘The first thing that met 
my startled gaze when I looked out was the descending paratroopers. My throat seemed to get very dry all of a sudden and 
I longed for company.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">A lance-corporal parachutist from <name key="name-007583" type="place">Hamburg</name>: ‘My parachute 
had scarcely opened when bullets began spitting past me from 
all directions. It had felt so splendid just before to jump in sunlight over such wonderful countryside, but my feelings suddenly 
changed. All I could do was to pull my head in and cover my 
face with my arms.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Some gliders landed on the terraces stretching from 22 Battalion's headquarters down to the beach north of <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name>; some 
landed in the valley east of Battalion Headquarters; most landed 
in the gravel bed of the Tavronitis River, above and below the 
bridge. No aircraft landed on the airfield on 20 May, but a few 
troop-carriers landed on the beach late in the day.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n43" n="43"/>
        <p rend="indent">The Luftwaffe crossed the coast a mile or more west of the 
airfield—out of effective Bofors range—and flew inland at about 
500 feet. The two 3-inch anti-aircraft guns on Point 107 could 
not tackle effectively such low-flying aircraft. The planes turned 
towards <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> in a broad swing, skimming low over A and B 
Companies. The slow troop-carriers do not seem to have been 
fired at by all of the ten Bofors round the airfield, an angry 
point with the infantry at the time and later.<note xml:id="fn1-43" n="15"><p>This was probably due in part to casualties among gun crews during the
blitz. By no means alone in his opinion, Lieutenant Robin Sinclair (15 Platoon)
is emphatic that some Bofors were out of action through faulty or missing parts.
Captain Johnson speaks of a late order (19 May) telling certain guns to move
positions slightly before opening fire again. Nevertheless some of these guns were
still firing at 3 p.m., according to 5 Brigade war diary. One 22 Battalion man,
<name key="name-011268" type="person">Bill Hulton</name>, says: ‘I have great admiration for [Bofors crews] and also for the
Jerry pilots who attacked them. On many occasions I saw Stuka pilots diving
down the fire of these guns, and had no misgivings as to whether I would have
had the guts to withstand such a gaff.’</p></note></p>
        <p rend="indent">Glider and parachute troops numbering probably 500 (perhaps 600) landed in 22 Battalion's area, and at once the day's 
battle splintered into a confused series of individual actions by 
the companies, which are best followed by attempting to trace 
each company's experiences in turn. One enemy group landed 
by <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name> village itself in Headquarters Company's area.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Headquarters Company (Lieutenant Beaven, three officers 
and about sixty men, mostly administrative staff not previously 
riflemen) was completely isolated all day from Battalion Headquarters. It was at once cut off when several gliders silently 
swam down between it and Battalion Headquarters, followed 
by perhaps ten, perhaps twenty, plane-loads of parachutists 
plus a small field gun. A second wave of parachutists fell about 
mid-morning. The invaders suffered severe losses, but the well-equipped survivors rallied to form awkward strongpoints in 
grape-vines and trees. These strongpoints made movement very 
difficult indeed. Within an hour the company suffered its most 
severe loss of the day. <name key="name-011397" type="person">Sergeant-Major Matheson</name>'s<note xml:id="fn2-43" n="16"><p><name key="name-011397" type="person">WO II J. Matheson</name>; born <name key="name-120045" type="place">Scotland</name>, <date when="1905-06-16">16 Jun 1905</date>; tinsmith; died of wounds
<date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>.</p></note> platoon, 
out on a limb to the south, was cut off and overrun. Details are 
slender, but a survivor, Regimental Quartermaster-Sergeant 
<name key="name-011717" type="person">Woods</name>,<note xml:id="fn3-43" n="17"><p><name key="name-011717" type="person">Sgt J. Woods</name>; born <name key="name-001298" type="place">Melbourne</name>, <date when="1897-05-25">25 May 1897</date>; motor-body builder; wounded
and p.w. <date when="1941-05-24">24 May 1941</date>.</p></note> describes the scene: ‘Over comes the Hun with Stukas,
<pb xml:id="n44" n="44"/>
Junkers and gliders, not mentioning the 109s. By the time the 
Stukas and 109s had left us the air round about seemed to be 
alive with Junkers, and believe me the birds that flew out of 
them were pretty thick. They looked impossible as the odds 
must have been easily 15 to 1.’ Shooting was good until grenades 
got the front trenches, <name key="name-011397" type="person">Matheson</name> received his mortal wound, 
and the platoon position fell.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Private <name key="name-011076" type="person">Cowling</name><note xml:id="fn1-44" n="18"><p><name key="name-011076" type="person">Pte N. M. Cowling</name>; <name key="name-021363" type="place">New Plymouth</name>; born <name key="name-021363" type="place">New Plymouth</name>, <date when="1913-11-01">1 Nov 1913</date>; market
gardener; wounded and p.w. <date when="1941-05-21">21 May 1941</date>; repatriated <date when="1943">1943</date>.</p></note> tells of <name key="name-011397" type="person">Matheson</name>'s stand. Just before the 
invasion broke, <name key="name-011397" type="person">Matheson</name> ordered Corporal <name key="name-011219" type="person">Hall</name><note xml:id="fn2-44" n="19"><p><name key="name-011219" type="person">Cpl W. S. Hall</name>; born Carterton, <date when="1907-02-21">21 Feb 1907</date>; salesman; died of wounds
<date when="1941-05-21">21 May 1941</date>.</p></note> and Cowling 
over to the company cookhouse on fatigue. They had covered 
about half the distance when ‘we came across two signallers 
who said “The game is on you two, use that spare slit trench.”’ 
From the slit trench, facing towards <name key="name-011397" type="person">Matheson</name>'s men, Cowling 
saw ‘quite a few paratroops in this area, they were all easy meat, 
those that came around…. the Transport Platoon were using 
machine guns. Boy, and weren't they using them too! We later 
found out they were enemy stuff they had conquered.’ <name key="name-011397" type="person">Matheson</name>'s men held their own with ease until the Germans got a 
good footing in an adjacent brick barn. Then the story changed 
abruptly. Fire and grenades from this commanding position 
brought the end. In their slit trench Hall and Cowling bagged 
several paratroops (one, caught in an olive tree, dangled helplessly but fatally only six inches from the earth), and at one 
stage Hall said: ‘Hey, you're having all the fun, let's change 
ends for a while.’ But after the capture of the barn snipers shot 
Hall through the right eye, and then Cowling was hit and 
fainted. He was picked up by Germans next day and, together with about a dozen other wounded, was taken to the 
battalion RAP, which had been captured by that time.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Even after taking <name key="name-011397" type="person">Matheson</name>'s position, the enemy got no further towards <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name> village; he was content to retain small 
patches among the olives and try to edge westwards along the 
coast to the focal point—the all-important airfield. Headquarters Company continued to hold <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name>. Company Sergeant-Major Fraser was annoyed that anti-personnel mines 
covering approaches to the company area had not been primed 
so as to allow any relieving counter-attack complete freedom of 
movement. He and Lieutenant Clapham had hastened to the
<pb xml:id="n45" n="45"/>
company's western defences to encourage men to leave trenches 
and fire at paratroops in the air. This encouragement was not 
needed by a section commanded by the First World War 
veteran, Jack Pender, an armourer sergeant attached to 22 
Battalion. Pender, with his corporal, <name key="name-011261" type="person">Hosking</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-45" n="20"><p><name key="name-011261" type="person">S-Sgt H. P. Hosking</name>; Feilding; born Feilding, <date when="1917-04-24">24 Apr 1917</date>; watchmaker.</p></note> had recently 
been mounting Browning machine guns out of aircraft in various 
other battalion positions. His section covered paratroops falling 
twenty-five yards along the front. Very few of them landed 
alive. But two automatic weapons, set up in a blind spot, gave 
trouble all day.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Satisfied that the company's western front was holding well, 
Lieutenant Clapham, this time accompanied by Sergeant 
Charlie Flashoff, next set off to the east, to Corporal Moore's<note xml:id="fn2-45" n="21"><p><name key="name-011425" type="person">Sgt A. W. G. Moore</name>; <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>; born NZ <date when="1903-10-25">25 Oct 1903</date>; driver; wounded
<date when="1942-06-26">26 Jun 1942</date>.</p></note> 
section, on the right flank near the sea and forward of Company Headquarters. Clapham and Flashoff were wounded and 
incapacitated by grenades. Moore's post held out, and so did 
another strongpoint by the beach commanded by Corporal 
<name key="name-011260" type="person">Hosie</name>.<note xml:id="fn3-45" n="22"><p><name key="name-011260" type="person">Cpl A. J. Hosie</name>; Mauriceville; born <name key="name-120098" type="place">Petone</name>, <date when="1915-09-19">19 Sep 1915</date>; soap worker.</p></note> Hosie's men had an anxious time when, about 4 p.m., 
a large party of Germans marched down by the beach towards 
them, ‘but a three-inch mortar [actually a 75 millimetre French 
field gun of C Troop <name key="name-010586" type="organisation">27 Battery</name>] landed about six bombs right 
smack on top of them, and what was left took cover in a house 
on the beach.’ The seaward posts kept survivors pinned down 
until dark.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Padre Hurst and a group of ‘cooks and bottlewashers’, manning a small defensive position and soon using up the few rounds 
of ammunition they possessed, were joined by Jack Pender, who 
ducked back to his armoury and returned with a bucket of 
bullets. ‘They kept us going till we moved out. Also with his 
help we got a German field piece going and he cleaned up a 
machine gun nest in a cottage—that was our greatest triumph.’ 
The field gun fired again at dusk.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The afternoon seems to have been relatively quiet for Headquarters Company. Twice during the day Private Fellows 
prowled around <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name> quite freely, once filling his tin hat with 
eggs ‘and dropped the lot when a Jerry fired, missing my ear 
by about 1 ½ inches', and once ‘finding two of our privates in
<pb xml:id="n46" n="46"/>
sole possession of the church, Arthur (“Wog”) <name key="name-010929" type="person">Alexander</name><note xml:id="fn1-46" n="23"><p><name key="name-010929" type="person">Pte A. W. Alexander</name>; born <name key="name-021329" type="place">Masterton</name>, <date when="1912-01-19">19 Jan 1912</date>; mechanic.</p></note> and 
Frank <name key="name-011405" type="person">Mence</name>,<note xml:id="fn2-46" n="24"><p><name key="name-011405" type="person">Sgt F. V. Mence</name>; <name key="name-021363" type="place">New Plymouth</name>; born NZ <date when="1913-12-24">24 Dec 1913</date>; tile maker.</p></note> who drank the holy water and complained 
about tadpoles.’ After an anxious morning the company commander, Lieutenant Beaven, seems to have remained confident. 
Beaven, his telephone wires cut, his signallers prevented by fire 
at 10.30 a.m. from further attempts to contact Battalion Headquarters by visual methods, had been in touch but once with 
the outside world. A cool and resourceful runner, Frank <name key="name-011676" type="person">Wan</name><note xml:id="fn3-46" n="25"><p><name key="name-011676" type="person">Pte F. M. Wan</name>; <name key="name-008123" type="place">Wanganui</name>; born <name key="name-005696" type="place">Hawera</name>, <date when="1918-03-08">8 Mar 1918</date>; railway porter;
wounded <date when="1941-05-21">21 May 1941</date>; p.w. <date when="1941-06-01">1 Jun 1941</date>; released <date when="1945-01-20">20 Jan 1945</date>.</p></note> 
(his companion signaller, <name key="name-010984" type="person">Bloomfield</name>,<note xml:id="fn4-46" n="26"><p><name key="name-010984" type="person">Pte G. Bloomfield</name>; born <name key="name-120045" type="place">Scotland</name>, <date when="1908-08-14">14 Aug 1908</date>; carpenter; killed in action
<date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>.</p></note> dead),<note xml:id="fn5-46" n="27"><p>Attending the dying man were stretcher-bearers Trevor Wallace and Ray 
Kennedy. The two found ‘that the stretcher needed so urgently was being used 
as a bed by a driver, yes, we had to get [him] to part with it. Bloomfield, past our help, died shortly after we got him on the stretcher. We placed him in a deep 
dry watercourse handy to Coy HQ, an area we'd selected to place wounded.’</p></note> had come from 
one and a half miles away to report that Wadey's platoon at 
the AMES was not in contact with enemy troops. That was all. 
Beaven sent runners to Battalion Headquarters and to B Company. None returned. The day dragged through in complete 
isolation. Three hours before sunset Beaven wrote this concise 
report and gave it to the indefatigable Wan, who was captured 
but hid and preserved the report in his boot until the war ended:</p>
        <p rend="indent">Paratroops landed East, South, and West of Coy area at approx 
0745 hrs today. Strength estimated 250. On our NE front 2 enemy 
snipers left. Unfinished square red roof house south of sig terminal 
housing enemy MG plus 2 snipers. We have a small field gun plus 
12 rounds manned by Aussies. Mr. Clapham's two fwd and two 
back secs OK. No word of <name key="name-011397" type="person">Matheson</name>'s pl except Cpl Hall and 
Cowling.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Troops in HQ area OK.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Mr Wadey reports all quiet. No observation of enemy paratroops who landed approx 5 mls south of his position.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Casualties: killed Bloomfield<lb/>
wounded Lt Clapham, Sgt Flashoff, Cpl Hall, Pte 
Cowling, Brown.<note xml:id="fn6-46" n="28"><p>Not traced.</p></note></p>
        <p rend="indent">Attached plans taken off Jerry.</p>
        <p rend="right">G. B<hi rend="sc">eaven</hi>, Lt<lb/>
OC HQ Coy</p>
        <p rend="indent"><date when="1650">1650</date> hrs</p>
        <pb xml:id="n47" n="47"/>
        <p rend="indent">At dusk the enemy began collecting and calling the roll 
where <name key="name-011397" type="person">Matheson</name>'s forward post had been. Forming a gun crew 
and manning the small field gun, Pender, Fraser and Hosking 
fired at point-blank range against the assembly point. ‘That 
quietened them down quite a bit,’ said Pender. They were as 
cheeky as hell, shouting out to each other and giving orders, 
but the field gun quietened them down except that orders 
turned to squeals and yells, which was very good.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">After dark a party of five went out to find that B Company 
had gone. Beaven checked for himself, found this true, but 
being reluctant to leave, held on until towards 2 a.m., when a 
party from 28 (Maori) Battalion passed through towards the 
airfield and returned in about half an hour. This sent Headquarters Company on the move too. In the night as the withdrawal began the captured German field gun got its own back 
with the last shot it would ever fire for 22 Battalion. Somebody 
stumbled against and fired the gun. The recoiling piece smashed 
into a man who cried: ‘My bloody leg is gone!’ Taking their 
four wounded with them (there were also three dead, apart 
from <name key="name-011397" type="person">Matheson</name>'s platoon), Headquarters Company left <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent"><name key="name-011303" type="person">Kennedy</name><note xml:id="fn1-47" n="29"><p><name key="name-011303" type="person">Pte R. G. Kennedy</name>; Taumarunui; born NZ <date when="1914-12-30">30 Dec 1914</date>; plumber.</p></note> and <name key="name-011673" type="person">Wallace</name><note xml:id="fn2-47" n="30"><p><name key="name-011673" type="person">Sgt T. G. Wallace</name>; born NZ <date when="1911-05-21">21 May 1911</date>; farmhand.</p></note> had some trouble in getting volunteers to help the wounded: ‘however several Aussies, probably 
ack-ack gunners, did a grand job.’ Charlie Flashoff, sorely 
wounded, lay on the stretcher; Barney Clapham, supported 
with a comrade on either side, struggled along. Another wounded man was taken in pick-a-back relays. Unhappily, somewhere 
about dawn, they ran into German light automatic fire. Ordered 
by someone to leave stretcher cases, Kennedy and Wallace 
joined others in the party and headed towards 23 Battalion 
area. <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name> was handed over to the enemy, ‘why,’ writes 
Private Fellows, ‘I have never been able to find out. At no time 
during the night or day had <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name> been occupied by the 
Jerries. A few had come through and a few stayed, but only 
the dead ones.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">C Company (Captain <name key="name-011290" type="person">Johnson</name><note xml:id="fn3-47" n="31"><p><name key="name-011290" type="person">Lt-Col S. H. Johnson</name>, ED; <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>; born <name key="name-036571" type="place">Whangarei</name>, <date when="1910-10-05">5 Oct 1910</date>; school-teacher; p.w. <date when="1941-11-27">27 Nov 1941</date>; joined <name key="name-027039" type="organisation">Regular Force</name>; Director AEWS, <date when="1953">1953</date>-.</p></note>) had a strength of just over 
100, including signallers and stretcher-bearers, seven Brens,
<pb xml:id="n48" n="48"/>
six Browning machine guns ‘borrowed’ from unserviceable 
<name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> planes, nine tommy guns, and no mortars. Thirteen 
Platoon (Sergeant <name key="name-011085" type="person">Crawford</name><note xml:id="fn1-48" n="32"><p><name key="name-011085" type="person">Sgt J. McM. Crawford</name>; <name key="name-021225" type="place">Gisborne</name>; born <name key="name-120045" type="place">Scotland</name>, <date when="1910-04-10">10 Apr 1910</date>; carpenter.</p></note>), verging on to the beach, covered the northern end of the airfield; 15 Platoon (Lieutenant 
<name key="name-011584" type="person">Sinclair</name><note xml:id="fn2-48" n="33"><p><name key="name-011584" type="person">Capt R. B. Sinclair</name>, ED, m.i.d.; Waipawa; born <name key="name-021225" type="place">Gisborne</name>, <date when="1918-01-03">3 Jan 1918</date>; clerk; wounded and p.w. <date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>; escaped <date when="1941-07">Jul 1941</date>; invalided to NZ <date when="1941-11">Nov 1941</date>; served 22 (Mot) Bn, <name key="name-001383" type="place">Italy</name>, <date when="1944">1944</date>.</p></note>), facing the riverbed and the bridge, held the western 
end and was to halt any attack coming across the almost dry 
riverbed; 14 Platoon (Lieutenant Donald) and Company Headquarters, by the southern end of the airfield, would hold any 
attack coming from inland. A counter-attack by 23 Battalion 
was expected. In C Company's area there was one serious weakness: a large number (about 370) of <name key="name-023234" type="organisation">Air Force</name>, <name key="name-003573" type="organisation">Fleet Air Arm</name> 
and Naval men (MNBDO<note xml:id="fn3-48" n="34"><p>MNBDO: <name key="name-022900" type="organisation">Mobile Naval Base Defence Organisation</name>.</p></note> gunners), despite (it should be 
remembered) repeated requests by Johnson and Andrew, did 
not come under 22 Battalion's command. They retained their 
independence almost to the point of absurdity; even the current password differed among the three groups. Furthermore, 
not one serviceable Allied aircraft now remained in Crete. 
Many a soldier still wonders why this unwieldy group was not 
briskly cleared out of the way and the airfield destroyed.<note xml:id="fn4-48" n="35"><p>The reasons are discussed in the <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name> volume of the official history of New
Zealand in the Second World War.</p></note></p>
        <p rend="indent">All sections, amply stocked with ammunition, were well dug 
in in partly covered slit trenches, two or three men to each 
trench. Mines were laid, but on strict orders from Force Headquarters were never primed because they might have blown 
up friendly Greeks. There was another weakness: at the south-west corner of C Company's position, where this company 
ended and D Company began near the concrete and wood 
bridge crossing the Tavronitis River, the <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> had its tented 
camp. The camp and the large number of airmen about it 
made it impossible for 15 Platoon to tie up thoroughly with 
the northern platoon of D Company: ‘one good defence line 
would have run straight through the officers' mess—unthinkable!’ Straight through this weak spot the Germans came.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The breakfast-time bombing, raising a sudden, blinding dust-cloud round C Company's positions, killed five men and
<pb xml:id="n49" n="49"/>
wounded one in 14 Platoon and Company Headquarters close 
by. The dust hid the arrival of the first gliders: Company Headquarters saw no gliders at all. When the air cleared, men looking east saw the blue-grey uniformed, swaying paratroops landing round <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name> (Lieutenant Beaven's area), and plenty more 
were coming down to the west, over the riverbed, from about 
800 yards south of 15 Platoon up to the river mouth and even, 
fatally, into the sea itself.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Almost simultaneously an attack began from the riverbed 
against the twenty-three men of 15 Platoon. Shingle banks running north and south gave good cover. These glider troops 
directly in front of the platoon developed increasingly heavy 
fire. But the platoon, stoutly resisting, held on, halting an attack 
after the Germans are said to have taken the anti-aircraft guns 
in front of the platoon. ‘These guns lacked certain parts and 
did not fire a shot,’ says Lieutenant Sinclair.<note xml:id="fn1-49" n="36"><p>Captain Johnson cannot understand this statement. He recalls all 10 guns
firing regularly <hi rend="i">on days preceding</hi> the invasion. He had hoped that some of the guns
could have been silenced, resited, and then could have taken the German by
surprise if an airborne invasion began.</p><p>The views of men who still stoutly maintain that the anti-aircraft guns did <hi rend="i">not</hi>
fire on invasion day can be summed up in the words of CSM H. Strickland.
Gliders, troop-carriers and parachutists, ‘an ack-ack gunner's dream, they were
sitting shots but there were no shots. All due respect to … [D. M. Davin's
<hi rend="i"><name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name></hi>] the guns didn't roar into action, not at <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>. There was an order that
they were not to open fire, and they didn't.’ Perhaps one day this controversy
will be investigated and settled.</p></note>
‘The parts were 
to have arrived days before the battle. Crews didn't accept our 
suggestion to prepare positions near ours, and only two survived 
the blitz. These two joined Lance-Sergeant <name key="name-011662" type="person">Vallis</name><note xml:id="fn2-49" n="37"><p><name key="name-011662" type="person">Sgt T. H. Vallis</name>; born England, <date when="1915-01-17">17 Jan 1915</date>; farmer; p.w. <date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>.</p></note> in his pit.’ 
The sergeant accepted a helping hand with a Browning automatic salvaged from a plane and mounted on bits and pieces 
of aircraft. The sights were a conglomeration of soap, chewing 
gum and screws. With unlimited ammunition Vallis fired this 
gun until it was white hot—and then still kept on firing.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Next the Germans, having been checked on the front, swung 
slightly to attack on the northern end of 15 Platoon (Corporal 
Haycock's<note xml:id="fn3-49" n="38"><p><name key="name-011238" type="person">WO I F. B. Haycock</name>, m.i.d.; born <name key="name-002817" type="place">Auckland</name>, <date when="1915-12-10">10 Dec 1915</date>; Regular soldier;
p.w. <date when="1941-06-01">1 Jun 1941</date>; escaped <date when="1941-07">Jul 1941</date>.</p></note> section), aiming towards the western section of 13 
Platoon near the beach.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The one phone link between C Company and Battalion 
Headquarters was out—bombing had cut the telephone wires.
<pb xml:id="n50" n="50"/>
Signals for assistance in an emergency had been discussed (15 
Platoon once had considered hanging a white or coloured cloth 
on a tree, and other men in the battalion remember vague 
suggestions of waving copies of the <hi rend="i">Weekly News</hi>), but none of 
these rather futile arrangements was made final, and perhaps 
just as well.</p>
        <p rend="indent">So from now on messages had to be sent by runner. At 10 a.m. 
Captain Johnson, believing the enemy was boring through the 
north flank of 15 Platoon to 13 Platoon, unsuccessfully sought 
permission to counter-attack with the two I tanks, which were 
dug in and camouflaged between 14 Platoon and Battalion 
Headquarters. These carefully hidden tanks, Colonel Andrew's 
trump card, were to be used only as a last resort. Unaided, 
therefore, the two northern platoons held this attack.</p>
        <p rend="indent">While the northern enemy party opened its at first unavailing attack against Corporal Haycock's area to the south, a far 
more formidable party, leaping and firing from behind one 
protecting pylon to the next, had crossed the riverbed and 
seized intact the concrete and wood bridge over the Tavronitis. 
The first crack in <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>'s defences was now being made. 
About 11 a.m. the enemy began his first attempt to drive a 
wedge between C and D Companies in a thrust on Battalion 
Headquarters. He was now in the vulnerable <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> camp, a 
cat among pigeons, and 15 Platoon, pinned to its positions, 
was now under fire from south, west and north. ‘Yet,’ says 
Sinclair, ‘with plenty of good targets and an interesting attack, 
we were not unduly worried. We seemed to be holding our 
own, so we just hung on and hoped. New uninitiated troops 
do not know much fear.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The German spearhead, planting parties by the camp to fire 
across the airfield towards 13 Platoon by the sea (a long way, 
but movement on the opposite side of the airfield was clearly 
visible), moved on towards Battalion Headquarters, on Point 
107. In front of the enemy, making matters worse, went unarmed airmen, either demoralised and fleeing or being driven 
deliberately as a screen. As the Germans, with the airmen in 
front of them, neared Battalion Headquarters, Captain Johnson 
sent Lance-Sergeant Keith <name key="name-011152" type="person">Ford</name><note xml:id="fn1-50" n="39"><p><name key="name-011152" type="person">WO II F. K. Ford</name>; <name key="name-021225" type="place">Gisborne</name>; born <name key="name-002817" type="place">Auckland</name>, <date when="1913-06-26">26 Jun 1913</date>; clerk; p.w.
<date when="1942-07">Jul 1942</date>.</p></note> (14 Platoon) and his section 
across to help. Colonel Andrew sent them back with the words: 
‘You look after your own backyard—I'll look after mine.’</p>
        <pb xml:id="n51" n="51"/>
        <p rend="indent">After returning to Captain Johnson, Sergeant Ford and two 
men were sent out once more, across the angry airfield to 13 
Platoon. They used what cover they could find in approaching 
the eastern edge of the landing strip where it was narrowest, 
then ‘ran like hell’. One man, Private <name key="name-011503" type="person">Porter</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-51" n="40"><p><name key="name-011503" type="person">Pte R. E. Porter</name>; born <name key="name-008963" type="place">Australia</name>, <date when="1918-06-11">11 Jun 1918</date>; labourer; killed in action
<date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>.</p></note> was lost 
on the way. Thirteen Platoon was to take a more active 
role by joining and supporting the hard-pressed 15 Platoon, 
still holding out in the middle section and at Platoon Headquarters. But the enemy (near the river mouth on the northern-most positions of 15 Platoon), firing heavily across the airfield 
towards the sea, made any such move impossible. Johnson could 
not check why no advance was succeeding. He could see fire 
from the <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> camp area, but not that from the river mouth. 
By this time, noon, Lieutenant Sinclair (15 Platoon) had fainted 
through lack of blood, and his batman, Jim <name key="name-011133" type="person">Farrington</name>,<note xml:id="fn2-51" n="41"><p><name key="name-011133" type="person">Pte J. Farrington</name>; born NZ <date when="1905-07-06">6 July 1905</date>; miner; killed in action <date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>.</p></note> had 
been shot through the head. Although hit through the neck, 
Sinclair had kept going for an hour, trying unsuccessfully with 
tracer and incendiary bullets to ignite a petrol dump alongside 
a stack of <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> bombs.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Near Sinclair a soldier had given his life in one of the most 
gallant acts in the history of the battalion. When a grenade 
landed in his trench, Lance-Corporal <name key="name-011402" type="person">Mehaffey</name><note xml:id="fn3-51" n="42"><p><name key="name-011402" type="person">L-Cpl J. T. Mehaffey</name>; born <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>, <date when="1916-06-20">20 Jun 1916</date>; civil servant; killed in
action <date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>.</p></note> unhesitatingly 
flung his helmet over it and then jumped on it in an attempt 
to save the lives of his two comrades. Both of his feet were 
blown off and he died soon after. Mehaffey was recommended 
for a posthumous Victoria Cross. ‘His behaviour and gallantry 
throughout the entire scrap until his final act of sacrifice was 
indeed of a high order,’ wrote Captain Johnson.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Before continuing the company story, here is a fragment from 
13 Platoon. <name key="name-011149" type="person">Forbes-Faulkner</name><note xml:id="fn4-51" n="43"><p><name key="name-011149" type="person">Sgt K. J. Forbes-Faulkner</name>; <name key="name-021363" type="place">New Plymouth</name>; born <name key="name-002817" type="place">Auckland</name>, <date when="1914-11-16">16 Nov 1914</date>;
timber worker.</p></note> had the north-west section of 
13 Platoon (that is, closest to 15 Platoon), with his headquarters 
in the small chapel. The field of fire was to cover a landing by 
sea. He writes: ‘In checking with the Aussie Bofors crews, their
<pb xml:id="n52" n="52"/>
password and ours was not the same, nor did either coincide 
with the <name key="name-003573" type="organisation">Fleet Air Arm</name>…. On the morning of the invasion 
the Aussie Bofors gun did not fire a shot, I don't know the reason 
why. We were a fair distance from most of the activity, and the 
first intimation that we had that they were close to us was when 
we saw a Hun hop into the Bofors pit and cover the gun with 
a Swastika flag. Joe <name key="name-011220" type="person">Hamlin</name><note xml:id="fn1-52" n="44"><p><name key="name-011220" type="person">Cpl J. Hamlin</name>; born <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>, <date when="1915-05-06">6 May 1915</date>; shepherd; accidentally killed
<date when="1955-11">Nov 1955</date>.</p></note> shot him as he came out.’ The 
westerly half of the section held their own at first; later in the 
day they were taken prisoner and marched off. The rest of the 
section held out in their pits, getting ‘a few more as they moved 
towards the chapel, probably thinking it was defended, but 
from our position we nicely enfiladed them at about 25 to 50 
yards.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">About 2 p.m. a spirited lieutenant from an English light anti-aircraft battery led eight men (two ‘bomb happy’), survivors 
from his troop of Bofors guns by the south-east edge of the 
airfield, into Company Headquarters. They volunteered to join 
C Company as riflemen and were armed. Captain Johnson 
carries on the story:</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘At 3 p.m. [Johnson is two hours out: the attack began just 
after 5 p.m.] the long and eagerly awaited order to counter 
attack with support of the two tanks arrived from Battalion 
Headquarters. I had discussed with the tank troop commander 
the day before just how we would work together. The troop commander, believing the Germans would have no anti-tank weapons capable of hurting a Matilda, feared nothing except enemy 
soldiers on top of his tanks. He asked that his tanks should be 
kept sprayed with small-arms fire. I asked how we on foot would 
communicate with the tank. He told me to press a bell at the 
back of the tank, and the tank commander would open the 
turret and talk. When the counter attack started, contact was 
attempted with the tank crews. Nobody answered the bell. 
[Throughout the entire war, no tank man ever seemed to answer the bell, and the exposed infantryman had to hammer 
vigorously on the tank with rifle, tommy gun, or metal helmet 
before the turret would open suspiciously.] Lieutenant Donald 
commanded the attackers on foot: 14 Platoon (about 12 below 
strength) was organised as two sections with a third section of
<pb xml:id="n53" n="53"/>
gunner volunteers. The tanks left their concealed positions at 
3.15 p.m. [5.15 p.m.] and moved west past Company Headquarters along the road towards the river in single file about 
30 yards apart. The first tank proceeded up to the river, firing 
as it went, until it stopped in the riverbed.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Sinclair, regaining consciousness for most of the afternoon, 
saw the tank ‘go down under the big bridge and out a little 
further west where it came to a halt. The place was seething 
with enemy plainly visible in the long grass. They seemed uncertain what to do.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Johnson continues: ‘The tank went no further. Apparently 
the turret had jammed. The crew surrendered.’ [This comment 
is based on a report given Johnson by Corporal ‘Bob’ <name key="name-011594" type="person">Smith</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-53" n="45"><p><name key="name-011594" type="person">Sgt A. G. Smith</name>; born Pahiatua, <date when="1918-03-03">3 Mar 1918</date>; driver; wounded and p.w. <date when="1941-05">May 1941</date>; escaped <date when="1941-08">Aug 1941</date>; died Taumarunui, <date when="1948-12-29">29 Dec 1948</date>.</p></note> 
who was subsequently a prisoner of war employed on the airfield before escaping to Egypt. Sinclair has another version: 
some sort of anti-tank rifle burst through to the engine, the crew 
at pistol point were forced to service the damaged part but 
instead ruined it permanently. ‘From where I was,’ Sinclair 
goes on, ‘I thought this business with the tank and the men 
was futile. Of course I could see more perhaps of the opposition 
lying in wait.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘The second tank turned about before reaching the bridge 
and came back past Company Headquarters on the <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> 
road,’ says Johnson. ‘It had not fired a shot. Bellringing was 
unavailing. When the second tank turned 14 Platoon was under 
withering fire from the front and southern flank. Their position 
was hopeless. Those who were able to withdrew, using the lee 
side of the tank for shelter. Donald, himself wounded, led only 
eight or nine men back, most of them wounded, from this brave 
but disastrous counter attack. The English officer (unfortunately I never learned his name) was killed in this attack after 
pleading with me to let him take part and lead a section.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">It was obvious now that the Germans were well consolidated 
—they did not waste time digging in, nor had they need to. 
Johnson sent a runner to Colonel Andrew with the disturbing 
news that the counter-attack had failed. Fifteen Platoon<note xml:id="fn2-53" n="46"><p>Doc’ Fowke was apparently the only man to escape from 15 Platoon. He
crossed the centre of the airfield after dark and rejoined Company Headquarters.
Most of 15 Platoon were wounded or killed. He brought news of Mehaffey, whom
he had nursed with two others in their weapon pit until they died.</p></note> and
<pb xml:id="n54" n="54"/>
the western section of 13 Platoon seemed to have been overcome; 14 Platoon was practically finished, and the cooks, stretcher-bearers, and Company Headquarters staff alone could not 
hold the inland perimeter of the airfield for long. The company 
would probably hold out until dark, but reinforcements would 
be needed then. The CO replied in his last message to get 
through to Johnson on 20 May: Hold on at all costs.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Speaking of his men, Johnson pays a tribute to Company 
Quartermaster-Sergeant <name key="name-011663" type="person">Vaughan</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-54" n="47"><p><name key="name-011663" type="person">WO II W. T. Vaughan</name>, m.i.d.; <name key="name-021363" type="place">New Plymouth</name>; born England, <date when="1903-01-21">21 Jan 1903</date>;
shop assistant.</p></note> who worked untiringly to 
supply food and water, and says: ‘The surviving men were in excellent heart in spite of their losses. They had <hi rend="sc">Not</hi> had enough. 
They were first rate in every particular way and were as aggressive as when action was first joined.’ He also speaks movingly 
of the performance this day of all the men in his company, 
mainly from Hawke's Bay and <name key="name-021225" type="place">Gisborne</name>: ‘I'll never know men 
like them again.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Late in the afternoon two Ju52s attempted to land on the 
airfield, but the mauled company was by no means carrion 
yet. All weapons opened up and the planes, spitting back small-arms fire, swung out to sea.</p>
        <p rend="indent">From after dark until midnight German patrols were active 
in the neighbourhood. In the night no C Company patrols 
could contact Battalion Headquarters. Its old area was now 
found to be occupied by Germans, a severe shock indeed. 
Simultaneously (and here is another instance where the fate 
of the airfield hung delicately in the balance), a company 114 
strong from 28 (Maori) Battalion came confidently right to the 
eastern edge of the airfield and failed by a furlong or so to 
contact C Company. This would be bitter news to C Company 
men when they heard some days (or, in some cases, several 
years) later of the Maoris' thrust. The company now believes 
the Maoris came to within but 200 yards of Company Headquarters and 14 Platoon, but halted by the knocked-out Bofors 
guns, and hearing only the shouts and tramplings of noisy 
German patrols, concluded that the airfield had fallen and 
pulled back. The position of Company Headquarters and 14 
Platoon was marked clearly on maps in the hands of other battalions and even as far back as Creforce Headquarters. Had the 
Maoris made contact, C Company is confident that with Maori 
reinforcements it would have held out all next day (21 May),
<pb xml:id="n55" n="55"/>
still denying the airfield to the enemy, despite the certainty of 
heavy casualties. In that event, the story of <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> would have 
changed with a vengeance.</p>
        <p rend="indent">For three hours after midnight patrols failed to find A, B and 
D Companies. A man conspicuous for his one-man patrol activities was Peter <name key="name-011021" type="person">Butler</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-55" n="48"><p><name key="name-011021" type="person">Sgt P. F. Butler</name>, m.i.d.; <name key="name-036571" type="place">Whangarei</name>; born <name key="name-002817" type="place">Auckland</name>, <date when="1917-05-22">22 May 1917</date>; driver.</p></note> over from Headquarters Company; his 
explorations were of paramount importance and greatly helped 
the evacuation from the airfield. Reluctantly convinced that 
no support was coming, now that the battalion apparently was 
gone, and believing that his few remaining men on the inland 
side of the airfield could not withstand the inevitable dawn 
attack, Johnson, after conferring with Donald, decided to withdraw at 4.30 a.m. on 21 May. The lateness of the time is worth 
remembering: dawn was approaching. Johnson and his company had stuck to their posts nobly: their withdrawal from the 
fateful airfield was a bitter reward for their day of steadfast 
defiance. A runner went to tell 13 Platoon and returned saying 
the place was bare.<note xml:id="fn2-55" n="49"><p>13 Platoon, cut off, made its own way back after dark, greatly assisted by <name key="name-010962" type="person">Bob
Bayliss</name>, then a private—a clear example of a natural leader coming to the fore
and assuming control successfully when everything looked hopeless. Deducing
(with German voices everywhere) that Company Headquarters had been captured, the platoon made its way east of B Company area and rejoined the company early next morning.</p></note> Every man removed his boots and hung 
them round his neck. Critically wounded men were made as 
comfortable as possible and left with food and water. The southern wire round 14 Platoon's defences was cut and, in single file, 
the wounded interspersed here and there, they set off. One 
man was practically carried, stooped over the back of a friend; 
another crawled all the way to 21 Battalion on his hands and 
knees. No stretchers were available; the party could not have 
carried them in any case, for they had to be prepared to fight 
their way out. They<note xml:id="fn3-55" n="50"><p>The total number to leave 14 Pl and Coy HQ area at 0430 hrs was approx
40 made up of about 14 unwounded, and the 14 wounded C Coy men and about
12 RAF and LAA troops. En route we picked up perhaps a further 12 mixed
troops, some 22 Bn and some FAA; but we dropped 6 including the CSM Bob
Adams, Cpl Smith 14 Pl, and Cpl Earnshaw Coy HQ. On the ridge we picked
up 13 Pl approx 15 strong. The above figures are not accurate, but they are as
near as I can remember. My check in <name key="name-001169" type="organisation">21 Bn</name> area about 1100 hrs, after I had got
all our wounded including Donald off to the <name key="name-001169" type="organisation">21 Bn</name> RAP gave me 27 unwounded
… C Coy men…. half of us had dysentery in a rather severe form. Donald
did an excellent job—as always—clearing local area on ridge and covering the
withdrawal of the wounded. He did not receive a decoration here, but I certainly
recommended him for one for his magnificent behaviour and gallant leadership
during the continuous period of 30 hours.’—Captain Johnson.</p></note> went past the snoring Germans to the
<pb xml:id="n56" n="56"/>
right, through the vineyards separating C Company from A 
Company, up to A Company's deserted headquarters, on to the 
road, up the hill past a grounded and ghostly glider until, after 
dawn, they reached a wood near 21 Battalion's positions. As 
they fell dead-tired under the trees, German planes began the 
morning hate.</p>
        <p rend="indent">D Company (Captain Campbell) had about 70 men, supported by two machine guns of <name key="name-028354" type="organisation">27 Battalion</name> on makeshift mountings, 
an uncertain number of Bren and tommy guns, and no mortars. 
The right boundary included the bridge over the Tavronitis 
River. Near here 18 Platoon (Sergeant Sargeson) was placed; 
17 Platoon (Lieutenant Jim <name key="name-011082" type="person">Craig</name><note xml:id="fn1-56" n="51"><p><name key="name-011082" type="person">Maj J. W. C. Craig</name>, MC and bar, ED; <name key="name-021569" type="place">Tauranga</name>; born <name key="name-021225" type="place">Gisborne</name>, <date when="1911-08-22">22 Aug
1911</date>; accountant; p.w. <date when="1941-05-21">21 May 1941</date>; escaped <date when="1941-07">Jul 1941</date>; served with <name key="name-035137" type="organisation">MI9</name>
(A Force) in <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>; recaptured <date when="1942-01">Jan 1942</date>; escaped (<name key="name-001383" type="place">Italy</name>) <date when="1943-09">Sep 1943</date>; served with
partisans in Ligurian Mountains Sep 1943-Dec 1944.</p></note>) was next, with 16 Platoon 
(Lance-Sergeant <name key="name-011161" type="person">Freeman</name><note xml:id="fn2-56" n="52"><p><name key="name-011161" type="person">Sgt V. Freeman</name>; Halcombe; born <name key="name-000870" type="place">Perth</name>, Aust., <date when="1913-05-04">4 May 1913</date>; shearer and
farm worker; p.w. <date when="1941-05-21">21 May 1941</date>.</p></note>) further inland on higher ground 
on the company's left flank. The last two platoons looked down 
on to the riverbed and across to flat ground on the other side. 
About a quarter of a mile south was an outpost, a platoon from 
21 Battalion.</p>
        <p rend="indent">As the platoons were out of touch with each other during 
the day, their experiences will be treated in turn.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The most northerly platoon in D Company, 18 Platoon, 30- 
odd strong in <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name> and wasted to only twenty-two by 20 
May, was extraordinarily thin on its vital ground. Throughout 
20 May Sergeant Sargeson had no contact whatsoever with 
C Company (on the airfield, on the platoon's right flank) or 
even with his company's remaining two platoons.</p>
        <p rend="indent">On the point of breakfast-time ‘it suddenly became expedient 
to keep your head down while our slit trenches concertina-ed 
in and out under the grandfather of all blitzes.’ Hard on this, 
Sargeson recollects, ‘the planes were literally wing-tip to wing-tip and all disgorging a skyful of multi-coloured parachutes. 
… I remember being fascinated by the spectacle and remarking to Corporal Bob <name key="name-010994" type="person">Boyd</name><note xml:id="fn3-56" n="53"><p><name key="name-010994" type="person">Sgt R. McL. Boyd</name>; Ohura, King Country; born NZ <date when="1910-10-05">5 Oct 1910</date>; van driver;
wounded <date when="1942-06-29">29 Jun 1942</date>.</p></note> who was beside me: “Look 
at that Bob, you'll never see another sight like that as long as
<pb xml:id="n57" n="57"/>
you live”—and Bob's reply, eminently practical and much 
more useful to the cause as he picked up his rifle, “Yes, and 
if we don't shoot a few of the b—s we won't live too bloody 
long.” ‘</p>
        <p rend="indent">Any scattered paratroops who had overshot their intended 
mark west of the river to land near 18 Platoon's positions were 
dealt with; but detachments from the great bulk of the invaders, 
landing well out of range, formed up as the day grew older and 
attacked in orthodox fashion as well-equipped infantry. Eighteen Platoon's two-man picket on the bridge (<name key="name-011591" type="person">Smale</name><note xml:id="fn1-57" n="54"><p><name key="name-011591" type="person">Pte H. Smale</name>; Whenuakura, Patea; born <name key="name-008318" type="place">Napier</name>, <date when="1912-08-06">6 Aug 1912</date>; labourer;
wounded and p.w. <date when="1941-05">May 1941</date>; repatriated.</p></note> and 
<name key="name-010953" type="person">Barrett</name><note xml:id="fn2-57" n="55"><p><name key="name-010953" type="person">Pte E. Barrett</name>; born NZ <date when="1918-10-30">30 Oct 1918</date>; casual employee; killed in action
<date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>.</p></note>), according to plan fell back towards a position near 
the <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> cookhouse to cover the bridge from there with a Boys 
anti-tank rifle which Arthur <name key="name-011256" type="person">Holley</name><note xml:id="fn3-57" n="56"><p><name key="name-011256" type="person">Pte A. E. Holley</name>; Waingaro; born <name key="name-005696" type="place">Hawera</name>, <date when="1918-12-26">26 Dec 1918</date>; farm labourer; wounded and p.w. <date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>.</p></note> had devotedly lugged out 
of <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>. Barrett was killed and Smale soon wounded and 
later captured, and this tenuous grip on the highly important 
bridge was almost immediately lost. Corporal Neil Wakelin's<note xml:id="fn4-57" n="57"><p><name key="name-011670" type="person">Cpl N. L. Wakelin</name>; born NZ <date when="1912-11-30">30 Nov 1912</date>; lorry driver; killed in action
<date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>.</p></note> 
group obviously could do nothing about the bridge, under 
which, protected by pylons, an enemy machine gun and mortar 
(subsequently identified by a dud round) promptly took post 
and offensive action, pinning down and pounding the handful 
of defenders in the two nearest pits (Gillice's<note xml:id="fn5-57" n="58"><p><name key="name-011193" type="person">Pte A. Gillice</name>; born NZ <date when="1905-03-14">14 Mar 1905</date>; labourer; p.w. <date when="1942-07-15">15 Jul 1942</date>; died of
sickness while p.w. <date when="1945-02-11">11 Feb 1945</date>.</p></note> and Minton's<note xml:id="fn6-57" n="59"><p><name key="name-011412" type="person">L-Cpl F. J. Minton</name>; born Carterton, <date when="1915-04-10">10 Apr 1915</date>; labourer; died of wounds 
<date when="1941-11-23">23 Nov 1941</date>.</p></note>). 
Accordingly, by mid-morning, with the noise of battle unabated, 
Platoon Headquarters saw the first minute fall in the avalanche 
which, starting at <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>, would sweep the British from <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name>: 
through the dust some 250 yards away a few of these men were 
being shepherded through the wire and dazedly gesticulating 
back not to fire. One of these captives, Arthur Holley, writes 
of their severe bombing, himself being blown up with a grenade, 
and of casualties widespread among his companions.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Sargeson, checking up, found Wakelin ‘all right, and agreed 
that his position and mine were now the front line. We knew
<pb xml:id="n58" n="58"/>
nothing of C Company. Warfare continued spasmodically with 
a fair bit of activity directed at us from the M.G. and mortar 
behind the bridge. However, no direct frontal assault was made 
and we sat tight. If the enemy had realised how thin we were 
I don't doubt he would have dug us out but we parried shot 
for shot and I suppose he was guessing—or else was busy with 
C Company so that he could later outflank us.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">In the late afternoon, expecting an evening assault on what 
now was clearly the left flank of the whole airfield position, the 
sergeant went back (‘encountering no one except carnage’) to 
Company Headquarters, to be told by Captain Campbell that 
reinforcements were nil. The platoon had in fact received reinforcements at the beginning of the bombing: fourteen <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> 
ground crew, as arranged. These fourteen men, willing enough 
to be sure, were of no use, quite untrained as they were for any 
infantry task and hopelessly ill equipped, with no rifles and 
perhaps a few. 38 pistols. All clad in deceptive blue, they were 
hastily camouflaged by New Zealand greatcoats in the boiling 
sun. Nearly all were wearing light shoes which were soon in 
ribbons.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Returning to his platoon and learning that Wakelin's post 
had been in close action, Sargeson investigated with Corporal 
Boyd. Two survivors overlooked in their hole (<name key="name-011456" type="person">Nickson</name><note xml:id="fn1-58" n="60"><p><name key="name-011456" type="person">Pte W. Nickson</name>; Halcombe; born NZ <date when="1916-02-28">28 Feb 1916</date>; labourer.</p></note> and 
<name key="name-011665" type="person">Velvin</name><note xml:id="fn2-58" n="61"><p><name key="name-011665" type="person">Pte E. G. Velvin</name>; Eltham; born Eltham, <date when="1919-08-28">28 Aug 1919</date>; butcher.</p></note>) told how, surprised from behind, Wakelin and <name key="name-011111" type="person">Doole</name><note xml:id="fn3-58" n="62"><p><name key="name-011111" type="person">Pte W. Doole</name>; born NZ <date when="1913-06-12">12 Jun 1913</date>; farmhand; killed in action <date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>.</p></note> 
had been led down to the canal and apparently tommy-gunned. When the four got back to Platoon Headquarters, darkness 
was approaching. Sargeson ‘decided that I could not prevent 
infiltration in the dark and that rightly or wrongly, I would 
not sit out on a spur but would withdraw my few men and 
consolidate with the rest of the company. And believe me we 
literally tiptoed away into the night and heard quite clearly 
the enemy moving in behind us (the Germans' habit of calling 
to one another in the dark advertised their presence).’</p>
        <p rend="indent">They ‘were a little disturbed’ to find the rest of the company 
had also withdrawn a short distance, and Captain Campbell 
and Company Sergeant-Major Fowler, with no information 
on the situation generally, were about to send a two-man patrol 
to Battalion Headquarters.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n59" n="59"/>
        <p rend="indent">While watching the gliders come in 17 Platoon saw seventeen 
land along the dry riverbed of the Tavronitis. The first one 
grounded on the hillside between positions occupied by Captain 
Campbell and Lieutenant Craig. At least five of the occupants 
were killed or wounded, and Craig with his batman, Bert 
<name key="name-011589" type="person">Slade</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-59" n="63"><p><name key="name-011589" type="person">Pte H. J. Slade</name>; <name key="name-120455" type="place">Dannevirke</name>; born <name key="name-120455" type="place">Dannevirke</name>, <date when="1912-11-06">6 Nov 1912</date>; labourer; p.w.
<date when="1941-06-01">1 Jun 1941</date>.</p></note> were returning to their position with two unwanted 
prisoners when ‘a Jerry machine gun opened up and settled the 
problem for me, missing both Slade and myself but copping 
the two prisoners dead centre.’ Craig and Slade felt sure they 
had cleaned up the occupants of the glider, but the balance 
(four) were glimpsed making for the ridge just above them and 
disappeared in the direction of the coast gun. The full crew of 
a glider, hidden by a slight promontory, advanced together 
towards Allan Dunn's<note xml:id="fn2-59" n="64"><p><name key="name-011120" type="person">L-Cpl A. D. Dunn</name>; Stratford; born NZ <date when="1914-01-03">3 Jan 1914</date>; storeman; p.w. <date when="1941-05-21">21 May
1941</date>. Dunn writes that he later escaped ‘and spent three months searching
around <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name> for Transport back to Egypt…. [Because of] the heavy strain on
the villages where these staunch people were trying to feed so many and mostly
due to the severe punishment the Germans were handing out to those people
caught assisting British Soldiers I decided with my companion, <name key="name-011215" type="person">Pte D. Grylls</name>,
that on information which we had received we would try and find our way back
to <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name> and on to <name key="name-008587" type="place">Turkey</name>. After exchanging our uniforms for Civilian clothing
we contacted a chap with a sixteen foot boat and rowed our way back to <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>
landing at a Coastal Village…. After resting there for three days we decided
to press on to <name key="name-008587" type="place">Turkey</name>, quite easy really, but we had picked up an English Soldier
at the Village who wanted to tag along with us and did, but his lack of fitness
started to hamper our progress and in allowing a rest on the outskirts of a Town
we were invited to the Police Station where we were Jailed and sold to the
Italians….’</p></note> section, but the section posts of Tom 
<name key="name-011674" type="person">Walsh</name><note xml:id="fn3-59" n="65"><p><name key="name-011674" type="person">Cpl T. Walsh</name>; <name key="name-008123" type="place">Wanganui</name>; born <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>, <date when="1914-05-14">14 May 1914</date>; labourer; p.w.
<date when="1942-07-15">15 Jul 1942</date>.</p></note> and <name key="name-011305" type="person">Kettle</name><note xml:id="fn4-59" n="66"><p><name key="name-011305" type="person">Cpl H. A. Kettle</name>; Waitara; born Waitara, <date when="1918-03-17">17 Mar 1918</date>; baker; p.w. 21 May 
<date when="1941">1941</date>.</p></note> (the latter receiving ‘marvellous assistance 
from a couple of <name key="name-023234" type="organisation">Air Force</name> chaps [who] were great shots and 
knew no fear’) got the lot. ‘Our firearms were most inadequate,’ 
comments Kettle. ‘My section was issued with a Bren gun a 
few days before the blitz, with instructions not to fire indiscriminately with it as it was necessary to conserve ammo. We 
obeyed this instruction most explicitly <hi rend="i">unfortunately</hi>, for it was 
discovered upon attempting our first burst at the enemy that 
the gun was without a firing pin.’ They gathered enemy equipment, including a spandau, which gave good service until ammunition ran out at 12.30 p.m. Barney Wicksteed did good 
work as a sniper.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n60" n="60"/>
        <p rend="indent">Tom Walsh's section, with one trench blown in by a bomb, 
was fully occupied in firing at its front, the riverbed, ‘but,’ 
says Danny <name key="name-011203" type="person">Gower</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-60" n="67"><p><name key="name-011203" type="person">Lt D. Gower</name>; Stratford; born Patea, <date when="1917-11-14">14 Nov 1917</date>; labourer; wounded <date when="1941-12-16">16 Dec 1941</date>.</p></note> ‘Tom Walsh suddenly turned round with 
his tommygun and dropped three Germans suddenly behind 
us, the three enemy coming right out of the olive groves. We 
took turns then facing front and rear, but after a while there was 
not much doing.’ Sergeant <name key="name-011148" type="person">Forbes-Faulkner</name><note xml:id="fn2-60" n="68"><p><name key="name-011148" type="person">L-Sgt C. F. Forbes-Faulkner</name>; born South Africa, <date when="1909-03-02">2 Mar 1909</date>; baker; p.w.
<date when="1941-06-01">1 Jun 1941</date>.</p></note> saw across the 
riverbed Greek civilians being used methodically ‘during the 
day as cover while the Jerries organised themselves.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">As far as 17 Platoon is concerned, there seems to have 
been only one casualty; scattered paratroops (about twenty 
fell in the platoon area) had been quickly knocked out; the 
positions apparently held firmly all day, but movement in 
the afternoon brought fierce and most accurate fire from across 
the riverbed. ‘No. 17 Pln had a fairly easy time of it most of 
the day,’ writes Jim Craig. ‘As my position gave me a clear 
view of all my positions and I was expecting at any time to 
receive orders to counterattack, I did not deem it advisable to 
stray very far from my Platoon H.Q. where I could be contacted by Coy. Cmdr. or Bn. The sections seemed to be O.K. 
and had quite capable section commanders and I kept in contact with them by runner, however I now feel that on looking 
back I should have perhaps taken matters into my own hands, 
as we had cleaned out what enemy had come our way, in the 
nature of Paratroops and Gliders, and made a counter attack 
to retrieve No. 18's lost position, but it would have left our own 
position and the right flank of 16 Pln wide open.’ About 6 p.m. 
(according to Pat <name key="name-011634" type="person">Thomas</name><note xml:id="fn3-60" n="69"><p><name key="name-011634" type="person">Pte P. A. Thomas</name>; born Stratford, <date when="1904-01-28">28 Jan 1904</date>; timber worker.</p></note>) a runner began visiting sections 
with an instruction to move back to Company Headquarters 
in groups of two or three, for the enemy had the area covered 
with machine guns.</p>
        <p rend="indent">On the left flank of D Company, 16 Platoon held positions 
on the hillside overlooking the dry riverbed, with a good field 
of fire but out of sight of the rest of the company. The platoon 
commander was Sergeant Vince Freeman. The pounding from 
the air was severe; there were bomb holes everywhere, but not
<pb xml:id="n61" n="61"/>
one casualty. ‘There was not a tree standing in my area and 
our trenches were half filled in,’ writes Corporal <name key="name-011492" type="person">Pemberton</name>.<note xml:id="fn1-61" n="70"><p><name key="name-011492" type="person">Sgt W. G. Pemberton</name>; <name key="name-021363" type="place">New Plymouth</name>; born NZ <date when="1911-12-06">6 Dec 1911</date>; driver.</p></note> 
‘“Windy” <name key="name-011410" type="person">Mills</name><note xml:id="fn2-61" n="71"><p><name key="name-011410" type="person">Cpl A. A. Mills</name>; born NZ <date when="1905-05-15">15 May 1905</date>; waterside worker; died of wounds <date when="1942-07-22">22 Jul 1942</date>.</p></note> had a Boys anti-tank rifle tied up in an olive 
tree,’ recalls Harry <name key="name-011705" type="person">Wigley</name>.<note xml:id="fn3-61" n="72"><p><name key="name-011705" type="person">Pte H. Wigley</name>; born <name key="name-021363" type="place">New Plymouth</name>, <date when="1917-05-04">4 May 1917</date>; labourer; p.w. <date when="1942-07-15">15 Jul 1942</date>.</p></note> ‘He had ideas of shooting at troop-carrying planes. I don't think that gun was ever found, nor 
the tree it was tied to.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Stray paratroops (their chief object apparently was keeping 
the riverbed defenders occupied while the main force beyond 
landed and organised) soon were cleaned up by 16 Platoon, 
which dealt as well with two stray gliders, and also, the platoon 
fears, with several blue-dressed <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> men (‘our big worry’) 
escaping into the hills. A furiously swearing Private <name key="name-011191" type="person">Gilbert</name>,<note xml:id="fn4-61" n="73"><p><name key="name-011191" type="person">L-Sgt C. R. Gilbert</name>; <name key="name-021363" type="place">New Plymouth</name>; born NZ <date when="1911-11-14">14 Nov 1911</date>; painter and
paperhanger; wounded <date when="1944-10-03">3 Oct 1944</date>.</p></note> 
his Bren full of dirt from the bombing, had to take it down, clean 
it, and assemble it before opening up with marked effect on 
gliders and their occupants in the riverbed. But every time the 
gun fired it sent up a cloud of dust which drew heavy machinegun fire and mortaring from the enemy quickly grouping across 
the river. Two guns from 27 (MG) Battalion gave a spirited 
performance until ammunition ran low in the afternoon. A 
wounded machine-gun officer (Second-Lieutenant <name key="name-010999" type="person">Brant</name><note xml:id="fn5-61" n="74"><p><name key="name-010999" type="person">Maj P. A. M. Brant</name>, m.i.d.; <name key="name-000854" type="place">Fiji</name>; born <name key="name-035894" type="place">Durban</name>, South Africa, <date when="1907-07-03">3 Jul 1907</date>;
Regular soldier; wounded <date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>.</p></note>) was 
given first aid in Sergeant Freeman's pit: ‘he was offended because I pulled his identity discs out to check up just who was 
behind me. Wanted to know if I thought he was a Jerry.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Apart from bursts of counter-fire from across the river, the rest 
of the morning for 16 Platoon passed ‘rather quietly…. In the 
afternoon there were no targets offering … nothing of interest’; it was ‘a reasonably quiet day and [the platoon] handled 
what there was around.’ Germans had worked up to under the 
riverbank in front of the platoon but came no further, content 
to call out in English, ‘Come down here, Comrade’. ‘They 
desisted in this when someone invited them to stick their— 
square heads above the bank and he'd give them Comrades.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘That night,’ writes Pemberton, who was in charge of half
<pb xml:id="n62" n="62"/>
of the platoon, ‘16 Platoon was sitting very snug and in control 
of the position, and in the early morning I was surprised when 
Tom Campbell contacted me and said we were moving out 
as we could not contact the rest of the Battalion.’ The platoon 
suffered but one casualty all day: Private <name key="name-003559" type="person">Simpson</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-62" n="75"><p><name key="name-003559" type="person">Pte J. B. Simpson</name>; <name key="name-021363" type="place">New Plymouth</name>; born NZ <date when="1916-08-30">30 Aug 1916</date>; butcher; wounded
<date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>; p.w. <date when="1941-06-01">1 Jun 1941</date>.</p></note> shot in 
the foot. ‘We had hoped that the 21 Battalion would have been 
allowed to have come down towards [16 Pl] as we were undoubtedly undermanned, and in a real manpowered charge 
early in day could have swung the tide,’ summed up Sergeant 
Freeman.</p>
        <p rend="indent">At Company Headquarters some men were redistributed into 
section posts in the immediate area. Here Captain Campbell's 
exasperating day from sunrise to dusk (at 8 a.m. his signals 
post had a direct hit from a bomb) was by no means over: the 
hardest decision would soon face him. Now, after dark, Sergeant-Major Fowler<note xml:id="fn2-62" n="76"><p>Jerry Fowler, after paying a warm tribute to the way a nearby 27 (MG)
Battalion section under Corporal Gould covered the bridge, sums up: ‘the whole
of Don Coy held out the whole day and did not move from our original positions
until night, and only then when we had found out that Bn HQ had fallen back,
they evidently thinking that our Coy had been overrun. We were not overrun,
and had more than held our own with all enemy landed or advanced into our
area. In my opinion our Coy Com. Capt. Campbell put up a very good show
and proved himself a very fearless and brave soldier. The soldier on that day
whom I will always remember is our Coy runner <name key="name-010990" type="person">Mick Bourke</name> of Stratford. He
did some very grand work that fateful morning, and his personal bravery I will
always remember.’</p></note> and another soldier picked their way to 
Battalion Headquarters. ‘It was evacuated, all right. But where 
had they gone?’ Campbell continues: ‘From a conference held 
before the action there was the plan that we would congregate 
south if we lost the drome.<note xml:id="fn3-62" n="77"><p>The airfield was to be held at all costs; no alternative scheme is mentioned
in available official records. This was purely a D Company plan. As far as the
whole battalion was concerned, the airfield was to be held at all costs; but, remembering the lessons of <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>, Campbell had thought it wise to have an alternative
plan and had instructed his platoon commanders to re-form to the south ‘if the
worst happened’. The precaution availed D Company nothing.</p></note> Then I thought that my company 
position might be wanted as a sort of pivot round which a 
counter attack could swing, especially if the battalion had 
pulled back to the south. I took stock of wounded nearby. 
They knew nothing of a counter attack. I decided to pull out. 
It was then 3 a.m.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The situation among perplexed, weary, hungry and thirsty
<pb xml:id="n63" n="63"/>
men was not improved by someone suddenly shouting, ‘Every 
man for himself!’, for morale had fallen flat with the news that 
the battalion had gone. Remnants of 18 Platoon with Sergeant 
Sargeson went far south on a hazardous expedition. Some of 
17 Platoon with Lieutenant Craig began making south along 
the riverbank, were blocked, moved towards Point 107, and 
at sunrise were surrounded and captured. Company Headquarters, 16 Platoon and various strays followed Captain 
Campbell along a track running due east, skirted a party of 
sleeping Germans, met Captain Hanton and other mystified 
groups from the battalion, and at daybreak were nearing the 
protection of 5 Brigade's lines higher in the hills.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘Farewell to <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> aerodrome and some fine cobbers,’ 
wrote Sargeson.</p>
        <p rend="indent">A Company (Captain Hanton and Lieutenants <name key="name-011136" type="person">Fell</name><note xml:id="fn1-63" n="78"><p><name key="name-011136" type="person">Lt R. B. Fell</name>; born NZ <date when="1910-11-08">8 Nov 1910</date>; motor mechanic; killed in action <date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>.</p></note> and 
McAra<note xml:id="fn2-63" n="79"><p>Because the battalion had no mortars, McAra had gone to A Company as a
platoon commander.</p></note>; exact strength and weapons unknown), with the task 
of all-round defence, held its fire until parachutists were about 
100 feet from the ground. Twenty-two Germans who landed 
alive in A Company's area were accounted for. Hanton, moving 
about, ‘saw dozens of corpses on the ground or in the trees…. 
During the lulls the men grabbed any German stores that landed 
near them. There were canisters of gear, food, motor cycles and 
even warm coffee from Hun flasks. The detailed organisation 
of the force amazed us at the time; we had not realised that 
so much care could be taken to win a battle.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">After breakfast, which had been delayed in the blitz, Lance- 
Corporal Chittenden and Bill <name key="name-011087" type="person">Croft</name><note xml:id="fn3-63" n="80"><p><name key="name-011087" type="person">Pte W. H. Croft</name>; born NZ <date when="1916-04-06">6 Apr 1916</date>; freezing works labourer; killed in
action <date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>.</p></note> had just returned to 
their pit near the coast gun when, unknown to them, the four 
German survivors from the glider came over the ridge. As 
Chittenden and Croft reached their trench Croft's ‘first reaction was to ask for a smoke,’ says Chittenden. ‘Producing 
tobacco I was passing some to [Croft] when I noticed his hands 
slowly rising and a look of alarm on his face. Looking upwards 
I was soon aware of the cause. Four Germans, tommyguns in
<pb xml:id="n64" n="64"/>
hand, were standing at the end of the trench beckoning to us 
to get out.’ Croft, rising, received a full and fatal burst; Chittenden next knew that he was grappling with the German leader, 
rolling over and over, then was stunned by a heavy blow (a 
shot, or shots). Soon recovering, he walked off for first aid, 
and but for his wounds would have convinced nobody that 
four Germans were in the immediate vicinity. What happened 
to these four Germans is not known. Company Sergeant-Major 
Harry <name key="name-011618" type="person">Strickland</name><note xml:id="fn1-64" n="81"><p><name key="name-011618" type="person">WO II H. J. C. Strickland</name>; born England, <date when="1904-07-31">31 Jul 1904</date>; foreman; wounded
and p.w. <date when="1941-05">May 1941</date>.</p></note> ‘was in our Company Headquarters area, 
not a German in sight, there was a bang, I was on the deck 
[a stretcher case] wondering what the hell had happened.’ 
Then along the ridge Lance-Sergeant <name key="name-011386" type="person">McWhinnie</name>,<note xml:id="fn2-64" n="82"><p><name key="name-011386" type="person">L-Sgt I. B. McWhinnie</name>; born NZ <date when="1916-11-07">7 Nov 1916</date>; clerk; killed in action <date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>.</p></note> with two 
or three others, was bailed up, disarmed, and driven ahead 
until rescued, probably by one of the parties sent out from 
Battalion Headquarters.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The next excitement came when Germans from the captured 
<name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> camp began moving towards Point 107: there seem to 
have been two such sallies within two hours, each time with 
<name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> men in front of them. These men, some with their hands 
up and crying ‘Don't shoot! Don't shoot!’ probably were being 
used deliberately as a screen. Both parties did not get far, for 
each time they were dealt with by men from A Company and 
Battalion Headquarters. The first skirmish was over quickly, 
and here <name key="name-011510" type="person">Regimental Sergeant-Major Purnell</name><note xml:id="fn3-64" n="83"><p><name key="name-011510" type="person">WO I S. A. R. Purnell</name>; born <name key="name-002817" type="place">Auckland</name>, <date when="1914-02-21">21 Feb 1914</date>; Regular soldier; killed
in action <date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>.</p></note> was killed. The 
second advance, beginning about 11 a.m. with a larger screen 
of <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> men, also ended when the Germans behind the screen 
came under fire.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘From then on, there was the odd firing and movements from 
below [from the airfield and environs] but nothing of vital importance as far as we were concerned as a company,’ says 
Hanton. ‘Later on I tried to see how Fell and McAra were 
getting on in their platoon positions to the south. Neither a 
runner, nor myself later, succeeded in getting through. About 
lunchtime the CSM, Strickland, was shot through the stomach. 
… For the rest of the day, a comparatively quiet time. I
<pb xml:id="n65" n="65"/>
don't recall being worried at all over the company's position 
and casualties.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">At 5 p.m. orders reached Company Headquarters that reserve companies of 23 and 28 Battalions would arrive by 9 p.m., 
and at that time the company was to pull back to the RAP 
ridge, and further back at midnight. Orders would come about 
the second move. ‘Was amazed to hear of it,’ wrote Hanton. 
‘Things were not bad with me and T. Campbell whom I met 
next morning did not go out of his way to suggest that he was 
in hot water exactly.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">After dark A Company moved a little eastward to the RAP 
ridge. A runner took news of this move to Fell and McAra, 
and possibly during this move Fell, silhouetted against the skyline, was killed. The company stayed at this RAP ridge until 
the early hours of the morning. From there runners had been 
sent out on both flanks, north and south, to contact C and B 
Companies. Both returned to say they had gone quite a distance without meeting anybody. ‘All the time I had the gnawing 
feeling that I was all on my own,’ says Hanton. ‘I got the troops 
that were left, there might have been 50, and began marching 
down the RAP road, south-west, away from the coast,’ to meet, 
greatly to their relief, Campbell and a party of D Company 
men. After hiding in a gully for most of the next day, the united 
party went on and reached a new line being formed by 21 and 
23 Battalions.</p>
        <p rend="indent">At Battalion Headquarters Colonel Andrew considered the 
blitz worse than the 1914-18 artillery barrages: ‘I do not wish 
to experience another one like it.’ He was wounded slightly: 
‘a wee piece of bomb that stuck in above the temple, and when 
I pulled it out it was bloody hot and I bled a bit.’ A man nearby 
heard the angry Colonel exclaim: ‘We'll go out and get these 
b—s when the bombing stops.’ In the smoking and dusty 
aftermath no paratroops landed between Point 107 and the 
two ends of the airfield, but several gliders did, between Battalion Headquarters and Headquarters Company, coming down 
among dust curtains still hanging from the bombing. No glider 
troops fired on Battalion Headquarters, and the paratroops 
were too far away. For fifteen minutes pot-shots were taken at 
an enemy group about 700 yards away, near a dry watercourse
<pb xml:id="n66" n="66"/>
towards <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name> village. Two gliders were within 200 yards of 
Battalion Headquarters; their crews lay hidden and doggo 
among the plentiful cover of vines until the late afternoon.</p>
        <p rend="indent">An hour after the landing the erratic No. 18 wireless set was 
working again, and at 10 a.m. reported to Brigade the landing 
of hundreds of paratroops in the riverbed and further west. 
‘It was now so quiet that we [Battalion Headquarters] were 
walking round freely,’ records Major Leggat, who goes further, 
saying he ‘was a bit bored from the lack of movement. Things 
were a bit quiet round Bn Hq and I went up to the top of the 
hill where I could hear a few shots.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">These shots came from a gunner enterprise. On the hill just 
above the two 4-inch coast guns, Lieutenant <name key="name-004956" type="person">Williams</name><note xml:id="fn1-66" n="84"><p><name key="name-004956" type="person">Capt L. G. Williams</name>, m.i.d.; Silverstream; born <name key="name-007584" type="place">Christchurch</name>, <date when="1909-06-02">2 Jun 1909</date>;
draughtsman; wounded and p.w. <date when="1941-05-22">22 May 1941</date>; repatriated <date when="1943-11">Nov 1943</date>.</p></note> of 27 
Battery had an observation post which soon became useless for 
observing and directing fire when communications failed. By 
10 a.m. the Germans were into the <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> camp, and soon a few 
had moved on into a clump of olive trees containing the <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name>'s 
RAP. From this grove the first advance (a tentative affair) began probing up the lower slopes of Point 107 in an area apparently not covered by A Company. Williams and another artillery officer, Lieutenant <name key="name-003248" type="person">Cade</name>,<note xml:id="fn2-66" n="85"><p><name key="name-003248" type="person">Col G. P. Cade</name>, DSO, m.i.d.; <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>; born <name key="name-005696" type="place">Hawera</name>, <date when="1909-05-10">10 May 1909</date>;
Regular soldier; <name key="name-001155" type="organisation">6 Fd Regt</name> 1940-41; CO <name key="name-001155" type="organisation">6 Fd Regt</name> <date when="1945">1945</date>; Director RNZA 1948-54;
CRA and GSO I NZ Div, 1954-57; comd Malaya Force, <date when="1957">1957</date>-.</p></note> quickly grouped together 
straggling British gunners<note xml:id="fn3-66" n="86"><p>Watching the blitz, Williams saw British gunners (4-inch, 3-inch and Bofors)
plastered and blown from their posts by bombs: one second-lieutenant remained
alive among the officers on the 4-inch guns. This answers criticism by the infantry,
who could not understand why the Marines on their two 4-inch guns did not fire
a shot. In any case, the guns were sited for firing out to sea and could not sweep
the critical western bank of the river where the Germans were massing.</p></note> and airmen (one defensive position 
was along a stone wall), sent a runner to Colonel Andrew for aid, 
and then prepared a bayonet attack. Some men stuck knives on 
their rifles. ‘Very soon a large party (30 to 40) appeared 
variously uniformed, and partly uniformed men with hands 
above their heads, many terror-stricken, all yelling and pleading 
with us not to shoot (meaning at the enemy) but to let them 
come on or they would be shot in the back,’ writes Twigg, who 
was ordered on to the hill when the attack began. ‘Among 
these men were some of our Bn,’ including the battalion provost 
sergeant (few men would wish a provost sergeant such a fate),
<pb xml:id="n67" n="67"/>
Gordon Dillon, and Sergeant McWhinnie. ‘When any defences were seen the Jerries just took one or two of us and 
pushed us ahead onto the defence. The Jerry doing it put a 
Luger in your back and just pointed. It was easy to understand,’ 
writes Dillon. ‘They would keep close behind in case of shooting. It was well planned and with the intention of pushing 
into our positions.’ He adds: ‘Some damn good shots picked 
the three Jerries off.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Descriptions from various viewpoints now understandably 
enough clash, but clearly, with ‘astonishing ease’ the gunners, 
three or four men with Major Leggat, and Twigg with a few 
signallers dealt with the very few Germans behind this distressed screen and restored the situation. But the sally had cost 
<name key="name-011510" type="person">Sergeant-Major Purnell</name> his life. ‘During all this time [from 
10 a.m. to at least 11 a.m.] parties of men were moving about 
on the aerodrome and the hill, and it was quite impossible to 
know who was who; there was a great deal of shouting back 
and forth and the ubiquitous adjective was the best countersign,’ 
noted Lieutenant A. R. Ramsay, of the <name key="name-003573" type="organisation">Fleet Air Arm</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">A similar assault occurring perhaps three hours later was 
only partially checked, but this time military etiquette was 
deliberately flouted. <name key="name-011692" type="person">Petty Officer Wheaton</name> (an electrician 
working on the airfield) and a <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> man, on capture, were 
given a red swastika flag by a German officer, ordered to march 
in front of a group of German tommy-gunners, and to shout 
to parties to surrender. Flag in hand, the hapless petty officer 
was driven forward until, with a sudden dash for liberty, he 
landed in a trench where New Zealanders, firing an automatic 
weapon, drove back the enemy and rescued the airman, now 
badly wounded. As this drive began, a Marine officer came 
down from the hill, spoke of ‘a screen of captured <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> men’, 
and urged <name key="name-011480" type="person">Palmer</name><note xml:id="fn1-67" n="87"><p><name key="name-011480" type="person">Sgt G. H. Palmer</name>, DCM; <name key="name-120455" type="place">Dannevirke</name>; born <name key="name-007584" type="place">Christchurch</name>, <date when="1916-08-27">27 Aug 1916</date>;
shepherd.</p></note> to take his Bren carrier up to the gun 
position. ‘We had been told not to move the carriers without 
orders from Colonel Andrew,’ Palmer relates. ‘I suggested to 
the officer that he got permission from Battalion Headquarters. 
Private “Sandy” <name key="name-010986" type="person">Booth</name>,<note xml:id="fn2-67" n="88"><p><name key="name-010986" type="person">Cpl B. A. Booth</name>; <name key="name-120141" type="place">Waipukurau</name>; born <name key="name-120141" type="place">Waipukurau</name>, <date when="1911-02-11">11 Feb 1911</date>; grocer;
wounded <date when="1942-10-26">26 Oct 1942</date>.</p></note> who was present, offered to gather
<pb xml:id="n68" n="68"/>
a party of men and take them up to cover the gun position. He 
gathered a party of about 20 RAF and Anti-aircraft men telling 
them it would be better to fight on the hilltop (Point 107) than 
be killed like rats in the olive grove.’ A few followed Booth to the 
top of the hill.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Meanwhile, back at Battalion Headquarters, with all telephone wires cut and useless, messages and information came 
and went laboriously by runners or patrols who performed 
many acts of devotion to duty. The four Bren carriers seem to 
have been overlooked for patrol work. The Colonel himself 
(and by now some impression should be emerging of the atmosphere and handicaps under which he was working) tried to 
get through to Headquarters Company, and later went towards B Company to see the situation there for himself. Brigade 
reported over the air that the enemy was landing in New Zealand uniforms—false—but this was at exactly the time when 
leaderless groups<note xml:id="fn1-68" n="89"><p>In fairness to these men it should be said that by the afternoon a large part of
the ill-armed congregation of displaced airmen, sailors, and gunners had sorted
themselves out into some shape on the south side of Point 107. Lieutenant Ramsay
(RNVR) says: ‘The F.A.A. had taken up positions directed by a combination of
their own inclinations and any officer who appeared to know anything about the
situation—Col. Andrew was occasionally seen for instance—but no one loved us
or took any interest in us….’ The group in the afternoon ‘had a pretty bad
time, but when dark came the situation seemed safe but highly uncomfortable
except for the West side of the Hill which was now completely occupied by
Germans.’ With no information and no guides reaching them in the dark, they
nevertheless remained on the southern slopes of Point 107 until 4 a.m. (21 May),
an indication that the group, although bewildered, was not demoralised. At
4 a.m. they struck out for the hills further inland. Ramsay's report continues:
<list type="simple"><label>‘1.</label><item><p>We didn't know where our own people were.</p></item><label>‘2.</label><item><p>We didn't know where the enemy were.</p></item><label>‘3.</label><item><p>Many people had no rifles.</p></item><label>‘4.</label><item><p>Many people had. 30 rifles and no ammo.</p></item><label>‘5.</label><item><p>Everyone was desperately tired, thirsty and hungry. We had no food
and no water.</p></item><label>‘5.</label><item><p>We had no objective to make for.’</p></item></list>
Matters did not improve when the party did manage to contact the New
Zealanders in 21 and 23 Battalions' areas. From then on, unwanted, ‘without
any understanding of who was who’, they were shuttled disconcertingly from one
unit or group to the other until carried away in the general retreat east to <name key="name-000735" type="place">Canea</name>.</p></note> of displaced airmen were milling about 
Point 107, another vexation to the commander upon whom 
the pressure of events increased mercilessly throughout the day. 
No news at all came from Headquarters Company at <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name> 
perhaps at any time a German thrust would come from the 
east. At 10.55 a.m. the Colonel asked Brigade by radio if 23 
Battalion could contact Headquarters Company. Accordingly,
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP004a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP004a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP004a-g"/><head>Original officers of 22 Battalion</head><p><hi rend="i">Back row, from left:</hi> 2 Lt
T. G. N. Carter, 2 Lt L. Leeks, <name key="name-011136" type="person">Lt R. B. Fell</name>, 2 Lt B. V. Davison, 2 Lt
F. G. Oldham, <name key="name-011349" type="person">Lt E. J. McAra</name>, Lt L. B. Clapham, Lt G. G. Beaven. <hi rend="i">Third row:</hi> Lt G. C. D.
Laurence, Lt D. F. Anderson, <name key="name-010938" type="person">2 Lt C. N. Armstrong</name>, 2 Lt J. L. MacDuff, 2 Lt P. R. Hockley,
Lt S. H. Johnson, 2 Lt C. I. C. Scollay, Lt W. G. Lovie, <name key="name-011229" type="person">Lt H. R. Harris</name>. <hi rend="i">Second row:</hi> Lt W. G.
Slade, 2 <name key="name-400450" type="person">Lt H. V. Donald</name>, <name key="name-023196" type="person">Lt W. M. Manchester</name>, <name type="person">Capt J. Moore</name>, Lt E. H. Simpson, Lt M. G.
Wadey, Lt W. W. Mason, Lt T. Thornton, Capt T. C. Campbell, <name key="name-010991" type="person">Capt W. Bourke</name>, Capt I. A.
Hart, 2 Lt T. R. Hawthorn, Lt K. R. S. Crarer. <hi rend="i">Front row:</hi> Lt E. T. Pleasants, Maj J. G. C.
Leach, Maj J. Leggat, <name key="name-011379" type="person">Maj G. J. McNaught</name>, Lt-Col L. W. Andrew, Capt P. G. Monk, Capt
E. F. Laws, Capt J. W. Bain, Capt S. Hanton (Absent, Rev. W. E. W. Hurst, 2 Lt E. E. Tyrell)</p><figDesc>Black and white photograph of army officers</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP004b"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP004b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP004b-g"/><head><name key="name-000815" type="organisation">Second Echelon</name> men parade for showers, <name key="name-026686" type="place">Trentham</name></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of soldiers</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP005a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP005a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP005a-g"/><head><name key="name-401558" type="person">Borax</name>, the unit's
mascot, on parade
in England</head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of a dog</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP005b"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP005b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP005b-g"/><p>Sir Cyril Newall, the new Governor-General of New Zealand, inspects
22 Battalion in England, <date when="1940-12">December 1940</date>. With Sir Cyril are Capt S.
Hanton (right) and Lt-Col L. W. Andrew (left). Brigadier J. Hargest is
behind the Colonel</p><figDesc>Black and white photograph of an inspection</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP006a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP006a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP006a-g"/><head>View from the main road in 22 Battalion's sector—looking east from the
exit of the gorge on the eastern side of <name key="name-001364" type="place">Olympus Pass</name></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of landforms</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP006b"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP006b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP006b-g"/><head><name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>: a troop train moves through the mountains towards the front</head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of a train</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP007a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP007a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP007a-g"/><head>Looking towards <name key="name-001184" type="place">Mount Olympus</name> from <name key="name-014235" type="place">Dholikhi</name></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of landforms</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP007b"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP007b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP007b-g"/><head>The evacuation from <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>
—5 Brigade troops on <hi rend="i">HMS
<name key="name-207116" type="ship">Glengyle</name></hi></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of troops</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP008a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP008a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP008a-g"/><head>German planes burning on <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> airfield</head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of smoke in a field</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP008b"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP008b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP008b-g"/><head>Aerial photograph of <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> airfield</head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of an aerial view</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP009a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP009a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP009a-g"/><head>German troops waiting to embark for <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of troops in front of an airplane</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP009b"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP009b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP009b-g"/><head><name key="name-000935" type="place">Helwan</name>, <date when="1941-07">July 1941</date>: Lieutenant-Colonel L. W. Andrew and his
battalion on return from <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of an army officer and troops</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP010a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP010a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP010a-g"/><head>Bringing in German wounded, <date when="1941-11">November 1941</date></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of soldiers</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP011a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP011a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP011a-g"/><head>Captured members of B Company at <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of soldiers</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP011b"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP011b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP011b-g"/><head>Bren carrier with German machine gun, <name key="name-003648" type="place">Gazala</name>, <date when="1941-12">December 1941</date></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of soldiers with a tank</figDesc></figure>
<pb xml:id="n69" n="69"/>
17 Platoon of 23 Battalion made towards <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name>, but did not 
reach Headquarters Company, for the latter was firing on all 
movement. (Yet it should be remembered that Wan got 
through on his first mission.) Unfortunately, Colonel Andrew 
was never given any indication that his <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name> men were still 
holding out zealously. In the same message seeking information 
about his Headquarters Company he reported that otherwise 
‘line was still intact and [the Battalion] were holding everywhere.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Pressure mounted steadily as the afternoon began and the 
drama of the airfield and Point 107 moved towards its climax. 
A few minutes after noon Battalion Headquarters wirelessed 
Brigade that enemy guns and heavy machine guns were firing 
at them from west of the river. In the early afternoon mortaring 
and strafing (presumably from the ground) was heavy, some 
of A Company were seen beginning to move back beyond Battalion Headquarters, saying that a strong enemy force was 
moving up between A and C Companies. (The southern posts 
of A Company did not move.) At 2.55 p.m. Battalion Headquarters reported to Brigade that ‘position was fairly serious 
as enemy had penetrated into Bn H.Q. area’, and at 3.50 p.m. 
‘left flank had given way but position was believed to be in 
hand’. Headquarters appealed for news of its HQ Company as 
reinforcements were ‘badly needed’. Perhaps it was then that 
Andrew asked Hargest for a counter-attack and was told that 
23 Battalion was engaged with paratroops (23 Battalion area 
was clear by 11.40 a.m., when companies were out hunting 
paratroops). So denied support and with no reserves due to the 
large area the 22nd covered, Andrew made his last throw, the 
two tanks, and to his bitter disappointment watched the attack 
fail. At 6.45 p.m. Point 107 was bombed by five planes. Major 
Leggat now saw the <name key="name-000868" type="organisation">Luftwaffe</name> resuming close support, for by 
now the enemy knew his spearheads had reached the top of the 
hill, and planes machine-gunned areas forward of that. Brigade's last recorded message from 22 Battalion (7.25 p.m.) 
‘… asked for immediate assistance and reported their casualties as heavy….’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The counter-attack by 23 Battalion, freely discussed before 
the invasion, was widely expected, and when it did not come, 
the feeling of bewilderment and isolation increased. Apart from
<pb xml:id="n70" n="70"/>
A and B Companies, nothing was known about the fate of the 
rest of the battalion or the brigade. The enemy, growing in 
organisation and confidence, challenged movement. Hidden 
enemy parties took heart. Practically all news was unreliable, 
just rumours. A hitherto most reliable man, suffering great 
strain, reported that D Company was wiped out.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘The morale of Bn. H.Q. officers and men [in the morning] 
was good, and I consider up to the standard and far better than 
in the latter years of the war,’ writes Twigg. ‘The O.C. and 2 i.c. 
showed signs of strain during the day, and I put this down to 
lack of news and information concerning their own troops and 
the position in general. I am sure that the bombing or their 
personal safety did not concern these officers, but the responsibility was great.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The brigade plan did not seem to be functioning; the CO 
had little information; neither wireless appeal nor the distress 
flares had brought the counter-attack; the enemy had exploited 
to the full the weakness of the defences by the <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> camp, over 
which the CO had little control; only A and B Companies 
seemed to be left, and these appeared likely to be overwhelmed 
with the dawn. Colonel Andrew therefore told Brigadier Hargest 
that he might have to withdraw, and he understood the Brigadier to reply: ‘Well, if you must, you must.’ By this—which 
may have been about 6 p.m.—Andrew meant a short withdrawal from the top of Point 107; he still intended to deny the 
enemy any use of the airfield.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Leggat takes up the tale: ‘Just before dusk [sunset was 7.50 
p.m.] McDuff (I think) and I followed the CO to B Coy's HQ. 
We went up the road past the glider, which gives some idea of 
the quietness of the situation. Here we used Armstrong's slit 
trench and blanket and went into a huddle. <name key="name-011084" type="person">Crarer</name><note xml:id="fn1-70" n="90"><p><name key="name-011084" type="person">Lt-Col K. R. S. Crarer</name>, m.i.d.; <name key="name-021225" type="place">Gisborne</name>; born <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>, <date when="1909-11-24">24 Nov 1909</date>;
accountant; seconded to British Army, <date when="1942">1942</date>.</p></note> tells me 
the Signaller had still his set with him but was having no luck 
in getting through. A company of <name key="name-001171" type="organisation">23 Bn</name> under Carl <name key="name-011680" type="person">Watson</name><note xml:id="fn2-70" n="91"><p><name key="name-011680" type="person">Lt-Col C. N. Watson</name>, MC, m.i.d.; <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>; born Tinwald, <date when="1911-01-08">8 Jan 1911</date>;
school-teacher; CO <name key="name-001174" type="organisation">26 Bn</name><date when="1942-06">Jun 1942</date>; <name key="name-001171" type="organisation">23 Bn</name> Jun-Jul 1942; p.w. <date when="1942-07-15">15 Jul 1942</date>.</p></note> 
came through about 9. I took them across the road. McAra 
said he would put them in position (he was killed 5 minutes 
later).’</p>
        <pb xml:id="n71" n="71"/>
        <p rend="indent">The Colonel had decided to withdraw the rest of his battalion to B Company's ridge to anchor a flank and to reorganise. 
But on reaching the ridge he ‘found the enemy had pushed 
round my flanks further than I had expected, and I had to 
make the decision to withdraw to the 21/<name key="name-001171" type="organisation">23 Bn</name> line and this 
I did before dawn.’ ‘This decision must have been made about 
10.30 p.m.,’ notes Major Leggat. Runners went out with news 
of the withdrawal, but only B Company knew of the move.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Leggat went on to Brigade Headquarters by carrier to report 
‘that we were officially off <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>’, and Hargest, asleep and 
in pyjamas, ‘was absolutely surprised and unprepared.’ Similarly, when Captain Crarer (B Company) passed at the end of 
his company through 21 Battalion, ‘Colonel <name key="name-000581" type="person">Allen</name><note xml:id="fn1-71" n="92"><p><name key="name-000581" type="person">Lt-Col J. M. Allen</name>, m.i.d.; born <name key="name-120020" type="place">Cheadle</name>, England, <date when="1901-08-03">3 Aug 1901</date>; farmer;
MP (Hauraki) 1938-41; CO <name key="name-001169" type="organisation">21 Bn</name> May-Nov 1941; killed in action <date when="1941-11-28">28 Nov 1941</date>.</p></note> was surprised and totally ignorant that any withdrawal was to take 
place.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The day had opened, and ended, with complete surprises. 
Yet the most bitterly surprised would be the four companies, 
mauled but still in position below in the darkness, still holding 
on and unaware ‘that we were officially off <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>’.</p>
        <p rend="indent">B Company (Captain Ken Crarer, with Lieutenant Armstrong acting as second-in-command; exact strength and weapons unknown): 10 Platoon (Sergeant Bruce <name key="name-011587" type="person">Skeen</name><note xml:id="fn2-71" n="93"><p><name key="name-011587" type="person">Sgt B. Skeen</name>; born <name key="name-008123" type="place">Wanganui</name>, <date when="1907-11-12">12 Nov 1907</date>; linesman; killed in action <date when="1941-05-22">22 May 1941</date>.</p></note>) was to 
the south, 11 Platoon (Corporal Andrews) to the north, and 12 
Platoon (Lieutenant <name key="name-011590" type="person">Slade</name><note xml:id="fn3-71" n="94"><p><name key="name-011590" type="person">Lt W. G. Slade</name>; born NZ <date when="1907-06-12">12 Jun 1907</date>; clerk; died of wounds while p.w.
<date when="1941-05-23">23 May 1941</date>.</p></note>) to the west. This company's task 
was an all-round defence of the area; to tie in with A Company 
and to protect two machine guns placed slightly to the north; 
to prevent any attack coming over the hill to the west and down 
to the airfield. In the last two days the company area had received its share of bombing and strafing. Pilots paid particular 
attention to machine-gunning the road.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The parachutists came in in a line running from the north-east of B Company across to the southern area of D Company: 
‘As each flight of troop-carriers (3) emptied its load of about 
a dozen troops per plane, a fresh flight carried on extending the 
line until they were dropping directly over and beyond us. By
<pb xml:id="n72" n="72"/>
this time the Browning was smoking hot and I was frantically 
reloading and spraying the Jerries as they continued the line 
to circle the drome.’ They fell thickly around the area where 
Slade's platoon was in position, and this platoon seems to have 
remained isolated all day.<note xml:id="fn1-72" n="95"><p>Yet within half an hour of the drop Slade's cook came over to Company Headquarters badly wounded in the face, ‘painting a grim picture of Slade's area
being wiped out’. Slade is believed to have been killed in a German plane which
was shot down while evacuating severely wounded prisoners to <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>.</p></note> When Slade was wounded, Corporal <name key="name-011295" type="person">Jurgens</name><note xml:id="fn2-72" n="96"><p><name key="name-011295" type="person">Sgt B. D. N. Jurgens</name>; Naike, <name key="name-120079" type="place">Huntly</name>; born <name key="name-120068" type="place">Taihape</name>, <date when="1918-09-22">22 Sep 1918</date>; farmer; 
wounded <date when="1942-10-29">29 Oct 1942</date>.</p></note> took command. Andrews's platoon got all but 
three of the paratroops who were dropped within 200 yards, 
‘and one of my NCOs, L/Cpl. Elliott<note xml:id="fn3-72" n="97"><p>2 Lt K. Elliott, VC; Pongaroa; born Apiti, <date when="1916-04-25">25 Apr 1916</date>; farmer; twice
wounded.</p></note> took a couple of men 
despite the standing order that no man was to leave his trench 
and went down into the valley where several Jerries had landed 
among the trees and cleaned them out. Keith Elliott got wounded in the arm and a tommy gun man, Tommy <name key="name-011635" type="person">Thompson</name><note xml:id="fn4-72" n="98"><p><name key="name-011635" type="person">Pte T. J. Thompson</name>; <name key="name-000439" type="place">Foxton</name>; born <name key="name-120059" type="place">Waihi</name>, <date when="1909-01-25">25 Jan 1909</date>; labourer; wounded
<date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>; p.w. <date when="1942-07-15">15 Jul 1942</date>.</p></note> 
got one through his right leg. [Elliott's excursion probably took 
him to within 400 yards of <name key="name-011397" type="person">Matheson</name>'s platoon at <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name>.] As 
Elliott's venture proved to be the way to handle paratroops I 
sent out half the platoon at a time to scour our area and bring 
in all the machine guns, pistols, tommy guns and grenades that 
the Jerries dropped in containers. There was a container after 
every fourth or fifth man.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">A glider ‘sneaked in on us’ and dropped below the road between B and A Companies. Two men with a captured German 
machine gun ‘poured belt after belt into the glider’; a sniper 
wounded Johnny Adcock<note xml:id="fn5-72" n="99"><p>Pte J. C. N. Adcock; <name key="name-021363" type="place">New Plymouth</name>; born NZ <date when="1914-05-04">4 May 1914</date>; labourer;
wounded <date when="1941-05-20">20 May 1941</date>; p.w. <date when="1941-11-28">28 Nov 1941</date>.</p></note> before he was himself killed.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Crarer says: ‘Apart from a bit of sniping and several prisoners 
surrendering, and an occasional drop during the day, the area 
remained comparatively quiet—a lot of shooting to the west 
where enemy parties were gathering. Communications with A 
Company were visual and by liaison. We had a carrier which 
had made two trips to Battalion Headquarters by early afternoon. I tried to make contact with Slade's area by sending two 
patrols forward, but they were shot up and did not get through.
<pb xml:id="n73" n="73"/>
[Slade, alone at Platoon Headquarters, was wounded but dealt 
valiantly with three Germans with an anti-tank gun. Allan 
<name key="name-011255" type="person">Holley</name><note xml:id="fn1-73" n="100"><p><name key="name-011255" type="person">Pte A. D. Holley</name>; <name key="name-008123" type="place">Wanganui</name>; born NZ <date when="1917-08-31">31 Aug 1917</date>; railway porter; p.w.
<date when="1941-06-01">1 Jun 1941</date>.</p></note> says that from 10 a.m. onwards the hill was clear, and 
from early afternoon everything was quiet.] We had good 
liaison with Lieutenant McAra (commanding a platoon in A 
Company) who early in the day came over saying he'd been 
kicked out of his area, but he later on collected stragglers and 
before lunch re-established himself in his area.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘There was no platoon attack, or no organised attack, on B 
Company. Casualties, not heavy in the company, would not 
have reached ten. [11 Platoon had three lightly wounded men.] 
We had all sorts of weapons; all fairly well capable of looking 
after ourselves. Any runners coming to our area before midnight would have found us at home.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Australian and English stragglers from the airfield were 
‘sorted into some sort of shape, organised into sections, given 
what enemy equipment they could raise, and that night 
organised a complete defence of the perimeter of Armstrong's 
and Sergeant Skeen's areas.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">By dusk all four Bren carriers had landed up by B Company's 
area. During the morning Privates Jack <name key="name-011683" type="person">Weir</name><note xml:id="fn2-73" n="101"><p><name key="name-011683" type="person">Pte J. Weir</name>; National Park; born Aust., <date when="1912-02-10">10 Feb 1912</date>; driver.</p></note> and Maurie 
<name key="name-011077" type="person">Cowlrick</name><note xml:id="fn3-73" n="102"><p><name key="name-011077" type="person">Sgt M. C. Cowlrick</name>; <name key="name-008318" type="place">Napier</name>; born <name key="name-008318" type="place">Napier</name>, <date when="1918-12-19">19 Dec 1918</date>; clerk.</p></note> volunteered to drive up the road to form a road 
block on the right of B Company, and ‘the only firing was at 
odd paratroopers.’ Then two more carriers came up. Earlier in 
the day the Browning from one had been used for firing on 
paratroops in Headquarters Company area; later it was used 
to scatter a party of enemy attempting to retrieve a supply 
container on the ridge behind Headquarters Company. Although they were right on the road, the carriers were not 
strafed because the crews covered them with parachutes. About 
8.30 p.m. the fourth carrier (Palmer's) made its second and 
final trip up to B Company's area. Weir and Cowlrick were told 
that if 23 Battalion support did not come, ‘Maurie and I were 
to wait until the last man would tell us he was the last man, 
only he didn't.’ The two stayed until nearly daylight. All the
<pb xml:id="n74" n="74"/>
carriers were put out of action before being abandoned; apparently more or less forgotten, they had served little purpose this 
day.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Just after dark Captain Watson, with A Company 23 Battalion, came into B Company's area and was ordered by Colonel 
Andrew to take up a covering position in Captain Hanton's 
area. He wanted a guide and McAra said: ‘That's my area. 
I'll take you in.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Corporal Andrews writes of his first inkling of the retreat: 
‘At ten minutes to eleven that night I received word that I had 
to have the platoon ready to move out and clear a village nearby 
[half a mile directly south of B Company] and to guard the 
Battalion through the village. Up to that time we had no indication that the position was so serious.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Crarer goes on: ‘Battalion HQ came into our area after dark 
and decided to withdraw at midnight. The withdrawal was 
OK. We got a message round to Slade's platoon by the shouting 
of orders round the chain of posts.’ Colin Armstrong led 11 
Platoon (Corporal Andrews) out first, then Jurgens brought 
out some of Slade's men. Slade couldn't be moved and was left 
with food and water. ‘These chaps came out down the track and 
south of 21 Battalion's area. Then out came the last platoon, 
Skeen's (No. 10).’ The rearguard in the village saw the remnants of the battalion pass through safely and then followed 
along behind: ‘Indeed, every few yards we passed dead paratroops and even then they had begun to stink.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Thus the battalion withdrew and the invaders of <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name> 
gained the airfield they had to have to continue the assault. 
The chapter of misfortunes and misunderstandings which led 
to Colonel Andrew's fateful decision has been related.<note xml:id="fn1-74" n="103"><p>‘Let me say at once, I do not for one moment hold Col. Andrew responsible
for the failure to hold <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>; he was given an impossible task, and he has my
sympathy,’ writes <name key="name-207994" type="person">General Freyberg</name> in a letter to the author in <date when="1956-01">January 1956</date>.
‘I take full responsibility as regards the policy of holding the aerodrome. I did
not like the defences of any of my four garrisons. I would have put in another
Infantry Battalion to help Andrew, but it was impossible in the time to dig them
in. The ground was solid rock, neither did we have the tools. Puttick, Hargest
and I must bear our share of responsibility for the defensive positions that were
taken up at <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>, which were as good as we could hope for under the difficult
circumstances.’</p></note> All 
next day 5 Brigade sat like a man bemused when the fate of 
the invasion of <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name>, in the words of German commanders
<pb xml:id="n75" n="75"/>
concerned, ‘balanced on a knife edge’.<note xml:id="fn1-75" n="104"><p>General Ringel, who commanded <hi rend="i">5 German Mountain Division</hi>, and General
Sturm, who (as a colonel) commanded the air landing at <name key="name-012648" type="place">Retimo</name>, made the
following comments on an official German study of the <name key="name-120193" type="place">Balkan</name> campaign: ‘The
passive attitude of the British Command in the neighbourhood of the important
air-landing base of the Germans, <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>, was decisive for the loss of Crete.
The British were satisfied with firing against this landing place instead of recapturing the airfield in a counter attack immediately after the first landing. This
would have made the landing of the 5th Mountain Division with transport
machines impossible and would have doomed the parachutists so far landed in
<name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name> … no sufficient naval material was available for a German invasion by
sea in the entire Aegean.’</p></note> 
A counter-attack was in fact mounted on the night of 21-22 May, but it was 
too weak and too late. German officers are 
told in the course of their basic training that in battle ‘It is 
better to do the wrong thing than to do nothing.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Remnants of 22 Battalion joined the defence line of 21 and 
23 Battalions next day. In the late afternoon the last original 
22 Battalion post was evacuated: the AMES guarded by Captain Wadey and his well-armed platoon of pioneers. The radar 
station, a mile inland from Point 107 and on high ground, two 
knolls with a saddle between, covered about half an acre and 
contained two <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> officers and about fifty airmen. Two painfully conspicuous 40-foot wireless masts were encircled by barbed wire. The equipment was very ‘hush-hush’, and not even 
Wadey saw inside some of the vehicles.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Two signallers, complete with flags, were attached for communication with Battalion Headquarters. ‘When the show 
broke, despite many wearying hours of flag waving they never 
made contact with the Battalion,’ says Wadey. The pioneers, 
untroubled by paratroops, shot up a glider which landed within 
range. In the afternoon Ju52s were seen crash-landing up the 
coast. Wadey ‘couldn't understand why something was not 
done about this’, so accordingly the two runners, Privates Wan 
and Bloomfield, were sent to Headquarters Company to link 
up, get information, and report the troops massing from the 
crash-landed 52s further up the beach.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The night passed uneventfully except for a large body of 
troops marching past the station. This was a sizeable part of 
22 Battalion on the withdrawal, but no word was passed to 
Wadey. About 10 a.m. on 21 May stragglers and wounded gave 
the first reports of the battle and the withdrawal. Later, shots 
were exchanged with isolated groups of Germans. A private 
had gone back to 21 Battalion for information and failed to
<pb xml:id="n76" n="76"/>
get any, so Wadey went out himself, later walked into Colonels 
Andrew and Allen, with Major Leggat and Captain MacDuff, 
and was told to hold his position at all costs, for the airfield was 
to be counter-attacked that night. He returned to find one of 
the <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> officers wounded.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Private Parker,<note xml:id="fn1-76" n="105"><p>Not traced.</p></note> with a section in an outpost outside the 
wire, reported enemy flag-waving (ground to air communication), fired, and checked this activity, but soon (perhaps 3.30 
p.m.) the bombers turned to pound the mound, a concentrated 
target with the vehicles, the masts and the circle of bright new 
barbed wire. ‘We received what the battalion had had all the 
week … the whole hill was heaving in smoke and dust … 
one of the Stukas seemed to be going to drop right on us … 
this one carried a bomb, orange in colour, under the belly. I 
saw it leave the plane and dive for us and knew it was going 
to be close.’ This was the end. The pioneer platoon and the 
<name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> detachment withdrew from the AMES. With a compound 
fracture of the leg, Wadey fainted and regained consciousness. 
He and other casualties from the mound were carried to the 
21 Battalion RAP, where they were welcomed by Padre Hurst.</p>
        <p rend="indent">When Headquarters Company had pulled out of <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name> towards dawn on 21 May, Padre Hurst, with twenty walking 
wounded, eventually reached 21 Battalion's RAP, where Captain <name key="name-010477" type="person">Hetherington</name><note xml:id="fn2-76" n="106"><p><name key="name-010477" type="person">Capt O. S. Hetherington</name>, MBE; <name key="name-021414" type="place">Rotorua</name>; born <name key="name-006507" type="place">Thames</name>, <date when="1903-04-03">3 Apr 1903</date>; medical
practitioner; p.w. <date when="1941-05-23">23 May 1941</date>; repatriated <date when="1944-09">Sep 1944</date>.</p></note> was in charge. The doctor had arrived by 
caique from <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name> before battle commenced, and had been 
equipped by enemy supplies dropped in his battalion area. In 
a cottage turned into an RAP they worked for three days before 
capture. During that time a young German officer, Tony 
Schultz,<note xml:id="fn3-76" n="107"><p>The Padre gave Schultz his wife's address in case a letter could be sent saying
the New Zealander was captured and alive. Schultz, later captured in the Desert,
spent the war in <name key="name-008197" type="place">America</name>, returned to <name key="name-008556" type="place">Germany</name> and, wishing to become a teacher,
entered a university in the British Zone through a reference from the Padre. He
is now a teacher and happily married. Padre Hurst has a photo of the wedding
group.</p></note> wounded in the forearm, gave valuable help. He 
doubted if his comrades would recognise the <name key="name-027417" type="organisation">Red Cross</name>. To 
save the lives of the wounded, sixty British and ten Germans, 
a swastika flag was made by cutting up a red flannel petticoat 
(found in the loft) and fixing it to a white sheet. Lashing the
<pb xml:id="n77" n="77"/>
flag to two poles, Hetherington and Hurst hoisted it above the 
hedge until firing ceased and slates stopped flying from the 
roof. Then a party of Germans, which Padre Hurst thought— 
perhaps mistakenly—was a firing party, lined up against a wall 
all who could stand. ‘An officer made a fiery speech in German 
and we thought we had had it,’ says Hurst, ‘until a wounded 
officer we had tended called out from his stretcher in the corner 
of the yard. He told how well we had looked after him and his 
men and we were reprieved. A nasty moment.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">About the time the AMES was attacked, more wounded 
were falling into enemy hands down in the valley. The battalion's medical officer, Captain Longmore, had remained at 
the advance RAP, close to the airfield, and had put through 
fifty-five to sixty casualties by 3 p.m. An hour and a half before 
dusk he was ordered by Colonel Andrew to evacuate the post: 
Battalion Headquarters was going back. Led by a battalion 
officer and carrying the wounded, they moved ‘up hill and 
down dale’ towards 23 Battalion's lines. There was an acute 
shortage of stretchers. A severely wounded man carried on a 
blanket recalls ‘a man on each corner struggling along in the 
dark, bumping and stumbling over things they couldn't see. 
I survived the bumping although I don't think I was supposed 
to.’ Morning found them camped in a clearing with 160 stretcher cases and walking wounded, among them Lieutenant- 
Commander Beale of the <hi rend="i">Illustrious</hi>, and later some wounded 
paratroops. Their officer guide left to collect stretcher-bearers 
but did not return. ‘The injured made a white circle from RAP 
gear,’ writes the doctor, ‘and all the crowd sat inside it. Planes 
flew all round but we were never hit, although bombs dropped 
all round.’ Twice they tried to get out messages and failed. 
At 5 p.m. they were taken prisoner.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Through these next two critical days, 21 and 22 May, the 
enemy kept up contact all along 5 Brigade's front. When not 
bombing and strafing, fighters circled positions, a bomb poised 
menacingly under each wing. Troop-carrying planes, heedless 
of fire, began landing methodically on the airfield about 4 p.m. 
on 21 May. Perhaps sixty planes landed on 21 May with about 
a battalion and a half. More paratroops came down west of 
the riverbed. Those men from 22 Battalion who had reached
<pb xml:id="n78" n="78"/>
21 Battalion's lines waited all night with flares ready to guide 
<name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> bombers on to the airfield. None came.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The RAPs used up the last dressings; food and water ran 
low or ran out altogether; the smell from the dead became 
sickening. Enemy parties probed south and behind the brigade. 
When flares suddenly went up in the dark from a ridge, accompanied by yells from gathering Germans, an exhausted 22 
Battalion man ‘felt like when the police gave me a summons 
once.’ Yet at midnight on the 21st a great wave of gratitude 
went out to the <name key="name-003205" type="organisation">Royal Navy</name> from the weary men huddled in 
the hills above <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>, for the watchers saw a furious display 
of searchlights and blazing guns: our warships were smashing 
and routing completely an attempt to land seaborne forces and 
equipment.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Before dawn on 22 May the counter-attack on <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> airfield was launched by 28 (Maori) and 20 Battalions, the latter 
coming up from behind <name key="name-002045" type="place">Galatas</name> after an unfortunate delay. 
Consequently the attack, timed for 1 a.m., did not start until 
about 3.30 a.m. From the start line, two miles east of <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name> 
village, the two units carved their way along the coastal area 
with plenty of grenade and bayonet work. One company (D 
of 20 Battalion) succeeded in reaching in triumph the eastern 
edge of <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> airfield soon after daybreak, but mortars, 
machine guns and air attack gradually forced it back. The 
remaining troops battled into <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name> village, but this was the 
limit of their advance. Some men from C Company 22 Battalion,<note xml:id="fn1-78" n="108"><p>The term ‘C Coy 22 Bn’ covers remnants of C Company and others from
22 Battalion; the same is meant by ‘D Coy’ in the following paragraph.</p></note> with a company from the 23rd, joined the Maoris in 
the melée round <name key="name-009650" type="place">Pirgos</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Over to the south-west, at 7 a.m., 21 Battalion's turn came 
to play its part in the counter-attack. Not under cover of darkness but in broad daylight the battalion achieved a spectacular 
advance, which showed how thin the Germans still were on 
the ground: in three hours it had partly cleared a corridor a 
little over a mile long towards Point 107. D Company 22 Battalion, which was operating with Colonel Allen's force, continued to push on until the leaders had nearly reached their 
old riverbank positions. Confirming this, Pemberton and Clem 
Gilbert (with Fred <name key="name-011479" type="person">Palmer</name><note xml:id="fn2-78" n="109"><p><name key="name-011479" type="person">Pte F. Palmer</name>; born <name key="name-021363" type="place">New Plymouth</name>, <date when="1910-02-03">3 Feb 1910</date>; labourer; wounded and
p.w. <date when="1941-05-22">22 May 1941</date>.</p></note> wounded in their section) say:
<pb xml:id="n79" n="79"/>
‘It was a hard struggle back after getting so far.’ However, 
planes had continued to land with more troops, who were 
rushed into the line, and about noon—when reliable news came 
of the failure of the counter-attack along the coast—advanced 
parties had to be pulled back. ‘They had used incendiary bullets 
on us and a whole patch of grain was set alight.’ In the late 
afternoon increasing enemy attacks from ground and air forced 
the 21 Battalion attackers back to their original positions.</p>
        <p rend="indent">As night came enemy infiltration increased; to the south 
strong enemy forces were working round 5 Brigade, whose last 
hours in the <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> area were at hand. Men of the battalion 
were scattered among front-line units, and one of them records: 
‘… gave up hope, didn't feel bad though, except thought 
tough on Mum, Margaret and everyone. Talked to B., he felt 
the same…. Waited and wondered what feels like to be 
killed. Heard firing and yells from Maoris about 100 yards 
away. Had chased Jerries off; could not believe true. Spent 
night on watch, half hour each, too tired for more, put tin 
hat where would fall on rifle and wake me up if dozed and 
nodded head. Told everyone in front were enemy.’ But temporary relief of a kind was coming. In the early hours of 23 
May withdrawal was ordered and began, to the angry surprise 
of many, though to have remained would have meant disaster.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The next day (23 May) the brigade, hounded and chased 
from the air, split into small parties, and now in serious danger 
of being cut off altogether, drew back into the east, sheltering 
behind 4 Brigade, which was defending <name key="name-002045" type="place">Galatas</name>. Villagers on 
the way bravely ‘smiled and waved but there were tears in 
their eyes.’ Fifth Brigade Headquarters looked grotesque with 
abandoned band instruments lying about. ‘We weren't keen 
on music by that time, only a little hungry,’ wryly comments 
a D Company man. The condition of the men is indicated by 
this note: ‘Crossing stream … found several Jerries in water, 
smelt awful, had drink anyway.’ Just after this, by the little 
coastal settlement of <name key="name-002869" type="place">Ay Marina</name>, a small and most welcome 
party returned unexpectedly to the unit. Private <name key="name-011146" type="person">Follas</name><note xml:id="fn1-79" n="110"><p><name key="name-011146" type="person">Pte L. G. J. Follas</name>; born <name key="name-021302" type="place">Levin</name>, <date when="1910-10-17">17 Oct 1910</date>; painter; wounded and p.w.
<date when="1942-06-26">26 Jun 1942</date>.</p></note> and 
one or two others from the battalion had been serving a few 
days' detention in the <name key="name-011446" type="place">Field Punishment Centre</name> in the <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name>
<pb xml:id="n80" n="80"/>
sector when the invasion began. Collecting automatics and ammunition from canisters falling providentially near, the inmates 
and guards (sixty altogether) zealously dealt out punishment 
to paratroops, took prisoners, hunted snipers, and gave valuable 
protection to a nearby troop of New Zealand guns, whose 
officer, Captain <name key="name-004737" type="person">Snadden</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-80" n="111"><p><name key="name-004737" type="person">Maj J. P. Snadden</name>, MC; <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>; born <name key="name-120142" type="place">Te Kuiti</name>, <date when="1913-05-24">24 May 1913</date>; salesman;
twice wounded.</p></note> would say: ‘When we put a shot in 
there, you get everyone who runs out.’ In the general withdrawal a few in Follas's group collected a donkey, loaded it with 
four spandaus, carried the ammunition themselves and, after 
taking part in a brisk skirmish yielding twenty prisoners, met 22 
Battalion survivors in the afternoon. ‘What have you been pinching this time?’ asked Colonel Andrew, viewing approvingly 
the donkey, the spandaus, and the ammunition. (On the subsequent retreat to <name key="name-004697" type="place">Sfakia</name> the donkey, already a well-known 
personality in the battalion and called ‘Sweet Nell’, was hit 
during an air raid and had to be shot.)</p>
        <p rend="indent">Behind the defenders of <name key="name-002045" type="place">Galatas</name> the battalion was just over 
200 strong—enough for two companies under Hanton and 
Campbell. Their task was to defend <name key="name-006644" type="place">Divisional Headquarters</name> 
against parachutists, to defend a ridge which was part of the 
reserve line, and to counter-attack if needed. For two days the 
remains of the battalion stayed in these reserve positions, dug 
by other troops earlier and giving protection from spasmodic 
strafing. Movement was cut to a minimum, and troops were 
prohibited from opening fire on aircraft so that positions would 
remain concealed, an order hard to obey, particularly when 
one aircraft, nicknamed ‘George’, regularly swooped so low 
that the pilot's features could be seen. This passive attitude, 
for those unable to hit back, was most depressing.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The air attacks increased on 26 May, and the pressure continued on the sorely tried front-line units, by now forced back 
a mile behind <name key="name-002045" type="place">Galatas</name> after defiantly but briefly reoccupying 
the town at dusk in a last desperate bayonet charge. Twenty-second Battalion group's turn came in the afternoon of the 
26th, following rumours (false) of an enemy break-through towards the coast. The battalion moved from its reserve positions 
along the ridge and across a road to help plug the rumoured 
breach. This emergency move, doubly dangerous in daylight,
<pb xml:id="n81" n="81"/>
was cancelled half-way through, but not before men in 
Hanton's group were strafed in a ditch and had suffered ten 
casualties.</p>
        <p rend="indent">In the night the battalion joined 5 Brigade's retreat south-westwards of <name key="name-001363" type="place">Suda Bay</name>, Colonel Andrew and Major Leggat 
taking turns at the front and rear, but unfortunately the battalion split into two separate parties in the darkness. A brief 
stand was made in rearguard actions on 27 May on a line 
known as 42nd Street (this was a mile west of <name key="name-004798" type="place">Suda</name> village) 
and again at <name key="name-001361" type="place">Stilos</name>, seven to eight miles back on the road 
leading inland into the mountains and on towards the south 
coast.</p>
        <p rend="indent">One day was very like another. ‘All day you lay hidden in 
trees nibbling anything you could get. We struck a few trucks 
that had been hit and had some broken biscuits. No tea of 
course for we couldn't risk fires…. On other times we 
marched at night and into the dawn till the first plane was 
heard and that was the sign to take to the trees. You never saw 
such hills. The road had a good surface but went … [zigzagging endlessly] and you seemed hours in going half a mile. 
Two nights I think to get to the top—just with your head down 
and your tongue hanging out because there was no water.’ At 
<name key="name-001361" type="place">Stilos</name> on 28 May men, worn out and gaunt through long 
marches, little sleep, poor food, and the day-long blitzes, 
learned that their destination was <name key="name-004697" type="place">Sfakia</name>, on the south coast, 
about 40 miles by the twisting road. They rallied in the morning 
for the last and the roughest trek of all, heading into the dry 
and dusty hills.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Survivors still say there seemed to be no end to the road up 
‘Phantom Hill’. Men, exhausted and ill, were held together by 
dogged endurance and the encouragement of their comrades. 
Mate helped mate. ‘The discipline on the march was a credit 
to the Brigade,’ says 5 Brigade's diary. One man felt he was 
going to crack. Colonel Andrew casually sat down beside him, 
and on learning where he was educated, yarned away quietly 
about school-days at Wanganui Collegiate. ‘I was OK after 
that.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">They hid up on a rocky, pine-dotted hillside near the beach. 
From here and there more parties and members of the battalion
<pb xml:id="n82" n="82"/>
turned up.<note xml:id="fn1-82" n="112"><p>Sargeson's party, after hiding all day on 21 May above <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> in a long,
overgrown ditch, had tiptoed out undetected when night fell, and their luck
holding, succeeded in making through the rocky ranges ‘rather like a bit of typical
NZ mountain bush country I suppose, not so much bush.’ They shared one tin
of M &amp; V, spoonful by spoonful, between 14 hungry, weary and ill-shod men.
One man sucked a raw egg. After reaching a village four miles from Souriya
Bay, on the south coast, other escapers attempted and failed to reach <name key="name-004697" type="place">Sfakia</name>
(already rumoured as the point of evacuation) by boat. Sargeson's party then
made for <name key="name-004697" type="place">Sfakia</name>, following roughly along the rugged, arid coastline and suffering
from hunger and thirst. Shooting a small goat and boiling it in salt water in a
petrol tin found on the beach, they also drank the briny soup. ‘We learned that
the pangs of hunger (which we had somewhat abated) were a trifle, compared
to the punishing agony of thirst.’ That night, on a ridge, investigating the sound
of croaking frogs (‘Hallucination perhaps’), they found neither swamp nor water.
A day later, almost beyond care, they stumbled on a stream. Four scattered Greek
settlements provided enough slender food and water to see them to <name key="name-004697" type="place">Sfakia</name> at
7 p.m. on 31 May, and only when on the minelayer <hi rend="i"><name key="name-207146" type="ship">Abdiel</name></hi> did Sargeson eat his
army emergency ration: ‘I had argued that while I could still walk I could keep
that concentrated can till I reached more desperate straits.’</p></note> Major Leggat thinks that here came one of the 
most dramatic moments of his life: ‘… we were told they 
couldn't take us. No one spoke for quite a while and then we 
just rolled our pipe tobacco in our newspaper cigarette-paper’; 
and the major concluded his letter home: ‘You can see that 
it was not the glorious affair that the papers write about. All 
you needed was good feet and the ability to go without water.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Instead of embarking, the weary battalion suddenly had been 
ordered to take part in the final rearguard, remaining ashore 
to cover the last evacuation that night, 30 May. Captain Stan 
Johnson writes:</p>
        <p rend="indent">After the exhaustion of the fighting of the preceding ten days, 
the incessant bombing and strafing, the frequent withdrawals and 
rearguards, the casualties, the lack of food and of sleep, and with 
that hollow feeling in one's stomach resulting not only from the 
knowledge of failure, but also from the feeling of having been let 
down some ten days earlier, when the counter-attack at <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> 
did not eventuate as promised, this was almost a knockout blow!</p>
        <p rend="indent">How to tell our troops, those gallant fellows who had given of 
their all so uncomplainingly, that Egypt was not for us, that we 
were to fight on till 10 a.m. the next day? It speaks volumes for the 
morale of the Battalion and of the integrity and loyalty of the 
soldiers that not one man anticipated the order by leaving his post 
during the night.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The next day, spirits soared with the news that more ships 
were returning to <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name> and that the battalion, after doing a 
final beach-perimeter and control-point duty, would be evacuated.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n83" n="83"/>
        <p rend="indent">Half an hour before midnight on 31 May the battalion began 
embarking, every man shaved, every man fully equipped (for 
those without gear equipped themselves from cast-aside 
material). Whalers, assault landing craft and motor landing 
craft took troops to the waiting ships: the minelayer <hi rend="i"><name key="name-207146" type="ship">Abdiel</name></hi>, 
the light cruiser <hi rend="i"><name key="name-207131" type="ship">Phoebe</name></hi>, and the destroyers <hi rend="i"><name key="name-207149" type="ship">Jackal</name>, <name key="name-207147" type="ship">Kimberley</name></hi>, 
and <hi rend="i"><name key="name-207148" type="ship">Hotspur</name></hi>. Colonel Andrew and two other officers were the 
last aboard. In Egypt he wrote the last two pages which closed 
the battalion war diary for <date when="1941-05">May 1941</date>:</p>
        <p rend="indent">This record for <date when="1941-05">May 1941</date> is of a young battalion which had been 
‘blooded’ just a month before in <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name> and was called upon to 
withstand a ‘blitz’ of the utmost fury and intenseness, fight against 
terrific odds, suffer severe casualties, and undergo tests of endurance 
and morale that many a veteran unit does not come up against 
throughout its service. Nothing which was encountered by units of 
the 1st N.Z.E.F. can compare with the period 20/<date when="1941-05-31">31 May 1941</date>, 
and yet I am glad to be able to report that this young battalion 
proved they could ‘take it’, give plenty in return and remain as a 
useful unit to the last day.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The casualties<note xml:id="fn1-83" n="113"><p>The battalions casualties on <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name> were:
<table rows="5" cols="2"><row><cell>Killed in action and died of wounds</cell><cell>62</cell></row><row><cell>Wounded</cell><cell>65</cell></row><row><cell>Wounded and PW</cell><cell>81<note xml:id="fn2-83" n="*"><p>Two of whom died of wounds while prisoners.</p></note></cell></row><row><cell>Prisoners of war</cell><cell>94</cell></row><row><cell/><cell>302</cell></row></table>

</p></note> for the period 20/25 May were 53% and for 
the month of May 62.35% of strength….</p>
        <p rend="indent">Many lessons have been learned and we should benefit from 
these in future actions. We know now that we can deal with the 
enemy even with his tanks and/or aeroplanes, that he does not like 
night work or the bayonet, and that on the ground he is no match 
for our men. Even though we had to withdraw for eleven days we 
had our ‘tails up’ in defeat.</p>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="n84" n="84"/>
      <div xml:id="c3" type="chapter">
        <head>CHAPTER 3<lb/>
<name key="name-001027" type="place">Libya</name>, <date when="1941">1941</date></head>
        <p><hi rend="i">If I ever get a chance to grab a soft job I'll do so.</hi> 
—Private 6971, immediately after <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>.</p>
        <p><hi rend="i">I hope I get back to the old Battalion. I'd hate to go 
into a strange unit. It's one's old cobbers who make the 
existence of an infantryman reasonably happy.</hi> 
—Private 6971, after some weeks at Base.</p>
        <p><hi rend="sc">‘<name key="name-003601" type="place">Cairo</name></hi>,’ writes Bob <name key="name-011154" type="person">Foreman</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-84" n="1"><p><name key="name-011154" type="person">Pte R. R. Foreman</name>; Carterton; born Carterton, <date when="1918-01-07">7 Jan 1918</date>; farmhand; twice
wounded.</p></note> ‘the city which seemed to 
stand apart—the boom town. If you wanted to go on 
the bash what better place than <name key="name-003601" type="place">Cairo</name>—arguing with and 
cursing and swearing at George Wog—bright lights—a great 
variety of food and drink—the Pam Pam—a few chairs flying 
— and bottles—then came the Red Caps to spoil it all—jokers 
running down troops from other countries fighting in the desert 
(were the troops furthest from the line the loudest in their 
criticism?)—shoe shine boys (remember those ones who would 
pester you when you didn't want your shoes cleaned, and then 
rub a patch of blacking on them?)—hawkers (wallets, photos, 
obscene and otherwise—crude little books containing very crude 
stories written in unconsciously humorous English—fountain 
pens, watch straps, etc., etc.). Wogs saying such things as “You 
come with me Kiwi—I show you….” Walking down to 
Bab El Louk station and passing Wogs smoking hubbly-bubbly 
pipes—a whiff of burning incense when passing some doorway 
—Arabic cafés blaring forth native vocal and string music from 
a radio and fat Wogs sitting at tables drinking (say) coffee 
(black in small cups). Cane crates full of fowls, piles of veges. 
—hunks of raw meat covered with flies—those native pancake 
sort of things—donkeys (four legs two ears and a nose sticking 
out from under some enormous load, or a Wog sitting on the 
donkey's rump and the donkey always looking the picture of 
dejection). The Wog driving his cart and sitting at the front
<pb xml:id="n85" n="85"/>
with his wives in a group at the back and dressed in black with 
veils. Walking round the streets, shops and places where you 
could get nearly anything at a price—Wog kids meeting you 
and then running after you yelling “<hi rend="i">Backsheesh-ana-muskeen-marfesh faloose</hi>” (then, finding themselves out of luck and the 
object of abuse, as a parting shot: “<hi rend="i">New Zealand bastard</hi>!”). 
Then in the bazaar—they said it was safer if there were three 
or four of you together—masses of tall Wogs in flowing dirty 
white robes—some of them carrying sticks—out of the hot dusty 
sun into a cool dark little shop (maybe you wanted to buy some 
stockings or tapestries)—then out into the blinding sunshine 
again—Wogs with something wrong with one eye—a Wog with 
no legs, just wheeling himself along the street on a trolley: a 
trunk, two arms and a head. Sometimes he would stop and get 
off his cart and move himself along with a loping motion on 
his arms and the bottom of his trunk, the way a monkey sometimes hops along on its front legs. And small Wog eggs with a 
taste of their own. And always Wogs shouting and arguing. 
<hi rend="i">Gully-gully</hi> men—Wogs with flies clustered round eyes and 
mouth and not bothering to brush them off. And traffic roaring 
and honking their way along the streets, especially those taxis, 
they drove with one hand on and off the horn. And the trams, 
packed full and other Wogs clinging onto the sides. (It was the 
same on the trains—full inside—and more Wogs sitting on the 
roofs of the carriages—robes flowing and fluttering in the wind.) 
And all those tales of mystery about the Dead City. (And tales 
of trams bought and sold.)</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘But often you would get dressed up in your “Groppi- 
Mocker”, with maybe a camera slung over your shoulder, and 
make for the N.Z. Club (via <name key="name-014641" type="organisation">YMCA</name>, Wog bars, and <name key="name-004262" type="place">Maadi</name> 
train). Then a hot shower, more refreshing than a cold one 
even in hot weather. Then a feed (that very good ice cream 
at the Club), and then off for the afternoon to—say—the zoo 
or Mohamed Ali Mosque (something worth seeing I thought) 
or the races at <name key="name-015821" type="place">Gezira</name> or <name key="name-003798" type="place">Heliopolis</name>—you only usually went 
to the Pyramids once (got your photo taken sitting on a 
camel), and if you felt energetic, climbed to the top; also stood 
for a minute and looked at the Sphinx. (Also wondered just 
how they got those great blocks of stone all the way from the 
quarry.)</p>
        <pb xml:id="n86" n="86"/>
        <p rend="indent">‘Then maybe back (by train or sometimes taxi) to <name key="name-004262" type="place">Maadi</name>. 
If it was still daylight and hot, well what better than a nice 
cool meal at the <name key="name-027588" type="place">Maadi Tent</name>—those ladies of <name key="name-004262" type="place">Maadi</name> who ran 
it won't be forgotten by one Kiwi. (Then back to the pictures 
at Shafto's or Pall Mall: reels put on in the wrong order and 
frequent breakdowns: waves of insults, whistles, etc. each time 
it broke down. Also Andrews Sisters singing “Rumboogie” 
while you waited for the pictures to start at the Pall Mall.) 
And as you left the <name key="name-027588" type="place">Maadi Tent</name> there were all those Jackaranda 
and Flame trees putting on a great display of blue and red, 
and maybe a Kiwi having a round of golf. And if you came 
back by bus, taxi or lorry, remember that bump at the railway 
crossing? And the Berka (no comment)?’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Men new to <name key="name-003601" type="place">Cairo</name>, walking out of the <name key="name-021910" type="organisation">New Zealand Club</name> 
and wandering aimlessly down streets and around corners, 
would suddenly stop, realising they were completely ‘bushed’. 
The best plan was to call a gharry, say ‘<name key="name-021910" type="organisation">New Zealand Club</name>, 
George’ with the utmost casualness, and hope no circling of 
blocks would add a few more ‘ackers’ to the fare. Newcomers 
soon found the heat and sweat played up with leather watch 
straps; they bought metal ones (and arguments would start: 
‘Now if you're smacked on the wrist…’). And the sudden 
discarding of money belts, so zealously worn and guarded in 
camp and in troopship. Some had their hair shaved off—a 
regular fashion early in the war—or were tattooed, waking in 
the morning with heavy head and groping for sweet, cold water 
in the tall-necked earthenware zeer, and discovering that other 
dull ache was some clumsy or blatant tattoo. The once-over at 
hairdressing establishments: haircut, shave, shampoo, vibrator-massage, nail manicure, and so on.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Pestered by a hawker to buy something at, say, 50 piastres, 
and offering perhaps five or ten just to be rid of the trader. 
But ‘George’, game to the end, haggling, until finally: ‘Right 
New Zealand. You my very good friend—I give it you at your 
price.’ And the Kiwi saying in disgust: ‘Christ, George, <hi rend="i">I</hi> don't 
want the bloody thing.’ Many bought sunglasses, and how 
quickly these were discarded. Others bought bottles, all sealed 
and wrapped in cellophane and ribbons and labelled with a 
well-known brand of Scotch whisky, but when opened it tasted
<pb xml:id="n87" n="87"/>
like methylated spirits; and search as much as a man could, 
no trace would be found where the glass had been tampered 
with and repaired. Gradually other men grew more civilised 
in their drinking habits, and ordered and drank such things 
as ‘gazoos: very nice, very sweet, very clean’; ate water melons; 
got used to the paper boy (<hi rend="i">Mail</hi> or <hi rend="i">Gazette</hi>) shouting remarks 
about diseases (not entirely unknown within the <name key="name-004368" type="organisation">2 NZEF</name> itself) 
affecting Mussolini and <name key="name-006503" type="person">Hitler</name> and, sometimes, for a ten-acker 
bribe, even a distinguished New Zealand commander or two.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The Naafi canteen ran ‘housie’ and sold eggs and chips fried 
in oil, and Stella or Pyramide beer, invariably drunk from cut-down beer bottles. The company canteen (when company canteens were established) had its radio blaring happily (‘the beer 
ran out on one occasion and we got in Zibbib, with disastrous 
results to one Kiwi from <name key="name-021225" type="place">Gisborne</name>’). Bits of spare time were 
also passed dozing in the tents, or running each other down, 
or playing cards.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘Sometimes somebody would get heartily sick of it all and 
really go on the bash. Then in the dead of night we would 
hear approaching noises—songs—laughter—curses. Then one 
voice would break away from the others and make roughly in 
our direction (‘<hi rend="i">You are my sunshine, my only sunshine</hi>….’). Then 
the next second the whole tent would jolt as a thud was heard 
outside. Then would follow a stream of curses at the offending 
tentpeg—then the voice would become more distant and finally 
die away in the distance, probably to enter at last its own tent 
—telling the victims in there just what it thought of them, amid 
much shuffling and fumbling….’</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘Yes: Egypt and the desert: I hated it,’ writes a veteran. 
‘The other countries I saw all had their redeeming features, 
but Egypt had so very little and I liked it least of all. A climate 
and landscape as uninteresting as any I could imagine. You 
hear of beauty of desolation:<note xml:id="fn1-87" n="2"><p>He remembers only one spot where he saw both beauty and desolation together:
‘… coming up the <name key="name-001311" type="place">Red Sea</name> (inky and oily looking in a stifling hazy heat). The
coastline of Egypt was on our left: rocky, mountainous and barren looking. It
had a reddish glow about it; you could almost imagine it glowing hot. It had
beauty of desolation.’</p></note> well it had the desolation…. 
I didn't even see those great sand dunes you see in pictures 
(except maybe a patch in the <name key="name-120085" type="place">Sinai</name>), but mainly flat desert
<pb xml:id="n88" n="88"/>
or sombre wadis (valleys) and escarpments. And so little sand 
and so much dirt, dust and broken bits of rock lying about, 
plus camelthorn. Some said the sunsets were beautiful, but I'd 
say I have seen plenty better at home. Then again some said 
that the evenings had “something”. But there again I'd say 
that it was only relative: how many times in the desert have 
we waited longingly for the evening to come?’</p>
        <p rend="indent">June began with the weary survivors landing at <name key="name-000576" type="place">Alexandria</name> 
and going on to the desolate outskirts of <name key="name-011166" type="place">Garawi Camp</name> (near 
<name key="name-000935" type="place">Helwan</name>, a few miles south of <name key="name-004262" type="place">Maadi</name>), a very bad camp, ‘arid 
and bare as a sow's paunch’, with no facilities, rice three times 
a day, no fresh vegetables, and a sugar shortage. The Intelligence Officer, Sam <name key="name-011375" type="person">McLernon</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-88" n="3"><p><name key="name-011375" type="person">Capt S. M. McLernon</name>; <name key="name-021225" type="place">Gisborne</name>; born <name key="name-021225" type="place">Gisborne</name>, <date when="1913-07-14">14 Jul 1913</date>; civil servant;
p.w. <date when="1942-07-15">15 Jul 1942</date>.</p></note> suggested grinding the rice 
to make it more palatable; but this made meals more leather-some than ever. The rearguard from <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name> welcomed comrades back. The stories, reunions, arguments, laughs, and 
sudden silences began. So did weapon training and the endless 
route marches (full water bottles carried, but nobody allowed 
to drink). One platoon, slogging through dirt and sand, met 
a peanut vendor—and hawkers used to appear in the most 
surprising places, even during ‘highly secret’ moves. The 
<hi rend="i">soudani</hi>-seller cried: ‘<name key="name-006503" type="person">Hitler</name> no bloody good, Mussolini no bloody 
good, but peanuts <hi rend="i">very</hi> bloody good.’ They ignored him, and 
as they headed for home, heard the farewell cry: ‘<name key="name-006503" type="person">Hitler</name> no 
bloody good, Mussolini no bloody good, <hi rend="i">and peanuts no bloody 
good.</hi>’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The reinforcements, 365 of them, marched in, bringing the 
battalion's strength up to 30 officers and 752 men. ‘And what 
a splendid lot of men they were too,’ says Colonel Andrew. 
‘They'd had home affairs to wind up and leave in order, and 
once this was done they turned to soldiering. When they came 
to us they were keen to learn. The veterans took them in hand, 
taught them and wised them up. They settled down excellently.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Here is the first impression of a reinforcement, Private <name key="name-011508" type="person">Price</name>:<note xml:id="fn2-88" n="4"><p><name key="name-011508" type="person">Sgt R. D. Price</name>; born Tolaga Bay, <date when="1914-06-26">26 Jun 1914</date>; farmhand; wounded <date when="1942-06-27">27 Jun
1942</date>; died of wounds <date when="1944-08-09">9 Aug 1944</date>.</p></note> 
‘The first parade after the reinforcements had been posted to
<pb xml:id="n89" n="89"/>
their various Companies, he gives us all a heart to heart talk: 
“You are in the 22nd Battalion, yes, 2nd to none, and I'm 
tough, bloody tough. Old February, that's me—Twenty-eight 
Days—ask any of the old hands, they'll tell you. Don't think 
you can go sick and get out of it….” The old hands had told 
us beforehand practically word for word what he would say…. 
Our Company Commander is a hell of a good sort, Major 
Hart….’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The Colonel was not satisfied with the appearance of his 
battalion. He cancelled all leave until camp lines were left 
clean and tidy, bedding and equipment laid out properly for 
inspection, guards and pickets knew their duties and performed 
them smartly, and men dressed properly on parade. Furthermore, to the delight of other ranks, officers were given brisk 
rifle drill for several mornings.</p>
        <p rend="indent">One Saturday morning the men were straggling back to camp 
after an unusually hot march. The Colonel appeared and 
shouted: ‘March like soldiers!’ A muffled voice retorted: ‘Oh 
shut up you silly old b—.’ That afternoon, instead of <name key="name-003601" type="place">Cairo</name> 
leave, away they went on a second march, Colonel Andrew 
first saying, ‘I may be a silly old b— but I'm the boss' 
and then setting the pace. No veteran will ever forget that afternoon's march, and stories of that day used to frighten off reinforcements from 22 Battalion. ‘But by God,’ a veteran writes, 
‘we prided ourselves on being able to walk any other outfit 
into the ground—and we could. An officer, Tommy Hawthorn, 
used to bounce along, leading his boys, with his eyes half closed, 
the son-of-a-gun could walk indefinitely.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">After a few weeks at <name key="name-009366" type="place">Garawi</name> the battalion moved to another 
camp, <name key="name-001940" type="place">Kabrit</name>, by the <name key="name-015539" type="place">Bitter Lakes</name>, three-quarters of the way 
down the <name key="name-001365" type="place">Suez Canal</name> and about 16 miles from the tarnished 
port of <name key="name-006674" type="place">Suez</name>. This was no holiday resort: enemy bombers knew 
<name key="name-001940" type="place">Kabrit</name>, and all tents (eight men to a tent) were dug down three 
feet. They stayed here for a month. Fifth Brigade was grouping 
together for advanced training. On the lake and on the Canal 
they practised invasion exercises in shallow landing craft. ‘These 
ALCs are something like a steel barge, one end opens and the 
platoon goes aboard, Nos. 1 and 3 Sections first and No. 2 last. 
All sit down in rows, the door is pulled up, and away we go. 
The ALCs are…. for landing purposes only. There are
<pb xml:id="n90" n="90"/>
ships fitted with special davits and the ALCs are carried aboard 
these. Then about three miles off the shore the Mother ship 
anchors, and each crowd man their ALC and are lowered over 
the side, and away you go, either get lost or land on the wrong 
beach. We put in two days on one of these ships and did a few 
practice landings and then the whole business was called off.’ 
Perhaps it was just as well that the plan to make a surprise 
landing behind enemy lines in <name key="name-001027" type="place">Libya</name> was abandoned.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Meanwhile, men who had lost all their personal gear in <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name> 
were wondering whether they would be compensated. They 
learned now that they would: 50 ackers (10s.) apiece. Officers 
seem to have received full compensation, and one is known to 
have received £46.</p>
        <p rend="indent">From <name key="name-001940" type="place">Kabrit</name> they went on to <name key="name-003897" type="place">Ismailia</name>, marching a third 
(14 miles) of the way in a day, one of the worst marches put 
up by the battalion, with feet giving out all the way. Platoon 
commanders had to go on a punishment march next day. Nobody fell out from 3 (Mortar) Platoon, 7 Platoon (A Company), 
and 14 Platoon (C Company). Paul Donoghue and a comrade 
marched the full distance with recently stitched heads.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The unit, now on guard duties with the rest of 5 Brigade, 
had the bad luck to camp in <name key="name-013532" type="place">Spinney Wood</name>, a filthy spot, a 
good example of some of the wretched places a battalion can 
be landed in. <name key="name-003197" type="organisation">RASC</name> traffic, using extensively a road through 
the camp, sent dust flying in all directions. One row of tents 
huddled between a highway and a railway. A train ‘with square 
wheels' jolted past every night. The Camel Corps only too 
obviously occupied an area to the south. Near that was a row 
of native hen-houses. Any attempt at migration was baulked 
by a wireless station to the west, the <name key="name-022899" type="organisation">Royal Marines</name> to the north, 
and the main railway line to <name key="name-001387" type="place">Port Said</name> to the east. Within this 
blighted area sprawled a contractors' canteen (no <name key="name-023795" type="place">Naafi</name>), a 
dhobi with clothes-lines and living quarters, native latrines 
and washing places, traders' hovels, and a native barber shop 
—all this in a dusty patch smaller than 20 acres, where 774 men 
lived in tents jammed together, their guy ropes interlacing. 
Precautions against the swarming flies were negligible; cooks 
found their quarters dirty and primitive, and with no mess tent, 
men had to draw their food and carry it to their tents. The 
camp was set in a malarial area. Every night jittery natives
<pb xml:id="n91" n="91"/>
streamed through the lines to avoid air raids on <name key="name-003897" type="place">Ismailia</name>. And 
an outbreak of plague in <name key="name-001387" type="place">Port Said</name> stopped all leave.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Colonel Andrew, who could storm as fiercely for his men as 
against them, sent a vibrant report to Brigade, but fortunately 
the battalion stayed here only a fortnight.</p>
        <p rend="indent">There were two compensations: a train containing crates of 
beer became derailed, an extraordinary coincidence, beside the 
camp (while the canteen contractor joined pillagers about the 
train, other enterprising soldiers rifled his canteen); and working parties sent to unload boats on the Canal often returned 
laden with tinned delicacies. With visions of luxuries, C Company landed the hay and wood line: no job was dirtier or 
thirstier. Officers of 23 Battalion were entertained at a hilarious 
party, at which Colonel Andrew sat back smilingly and said: 
‘If I were 10 years younger I would be in there.’ Suddenly, 
with a whoop and a yell, he dived into the struggling mass ‘and 
took as much subduing as anybody.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The next move, 280 miles away into the desert, into ‘the 
blue’, was to <name key="name-000990" type="place">Kaponga Box</name>. While approaching their destination, near <name key="name-010927" type="place">Alamein</name>, a few men noticed a slight rise in the sand 
and rock. It didn't look much. This modest ridge was known 
as Ruweisat—a dark and tragic place for the battalion one 
year later. <name key="name-000990" type="place">Kaponga Box</name>, where 5 Brigade settled, was a patch 
of desert encircled by low sandhills, intended to be turned into 
a horseshoe-shaped fortress—not a Beau Geste one with walls 
and loopholes, but a camouflaged, almost invisible fortress with 
strongpoints and trenches on the surface and underground 
tunnels and rooms. Fifth Brigade sweated away preparing these 
amenities. Little showed above ground. The idea was that 
should the enemy sweep down from the frontier and approach 
<name key="name-000576" type="place">Alexandria</name>, the fortress garrison, amply supplied with food and 
ammunition, could sally out and harry him from the flanks. 
This ‘Box’ outlook, together with schemes of flying ‘Jock 
columns', was a fashionable but unsuccessful idea, abandoned 
in mid-<date when="1942">1942</date>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The battalion set to work to build a series of ‘keeps’. First 
the section built its keep, modelled along the lines of those 
which had proved their worth round <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name>. Once the section 
keeps were finished, they were wired round to form a platoon 
keep, and then, finally, a company keep—that was the theory,
<pb xml:id="n92" n="92"/>
anyway. There was no continuous line—rather a chain of company keeps, about 400 or 600 yards apart. The men worked 
away in the rock and sand, hacking out holes of all shapes and 
sizes with many curses and blisters, four hours in the morning 
and three hours in the afternoon. Charlie <name key="name-011011" type="person">Brock</name><note xml:id="fn1-92" n="5"><p><name key="name-011011" type="person">Sgt K. R. Brock</name>; <name key="name-036071" type="place">Invercargill</name>; born NZ <date when="1908-06-09">9 Jun 1908</date>; labourer.</p></note> and his 
pioneers were well to the fore. Indian sappers and men from 
<name key="name-010592" type="organisation">7 Field Company</name>, New Zealand Engineers, gave brief assistance, blasting into layers of hard limestone which had very few 
fissures. Sometimes they struck enormous, tough boulders. ‘A 
Company found some good fossils; one day a rabbit bobbed 
up, God knows what it lived on, but it was knocked on the 
head with a spade.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The battalion picks and shovels, although plentiful, were 
made from poor stuff: ‘on the hard rock the pick just bounced 
off and turned back and looked at you.’ The battalion's forge 
was kept busy. Help arrived in the shape of twenty crowbars 
and Spaulding hammers.</p>
        <p rend="indent">By mid-September good progress had been made. Parties 
took spells and briefly bathed and basked on the coast. Ploughing back to the <name key="name-000990" type="place">Kaponga Box</name> through fine, sandy dust left the 
troops dirtier than ever. Water was not plentiful—‘1 ½ gallons 
a man a day for all purposes', read the official ration, but all 
of this except half a water bottle for each man went to the cookhouse. The soldier washed, cleaned his teeth, and shaved with 
this ration of half a bottle, and ‘if any was over he was able to 
have a good drink.’ Canteen stores had to be brought 40 miles 
away from <name key="name-003433" type="place">El Daba</name>. Canteens opened with slender and quickly 
exhausted stocks of English, Australian and Egyptian chocolate, 
tinned fruits, boot polish, shaving tackle, biscuits, English 
lollies, cigarettes, tobacco, and Chinese beer (‘Ewo’, with the 
yellow label, from <name key="name-035347" type="place">Shanghai</name>); on the average a man received 
half a bottle each week, ‘and all other luxuries in the same 
proportion.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘Flies were the greatest army of all,’ wrote Tom De Lisle. 
‘At their worst they accompanied the moving soldier, and made 
his arms ache with waving to ward them off. At their mildest 
they were still there in ones or twos to torment and annoy. No 
matter what remote spot the battalion moved to, nor how
<pb xml:id="n93" n="93"/>
quickly, no sooner were the preliminaries of bivouacking engaged in when the vanguard of the fly army arrived. Flies and 
sand! Sand and flies in never ending quantities.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">To keep the men in touch with civilisation a <name key="name-003601" type="place">Cairo</name> daily newspaper brought out a special <name key="name-024430" type="place">Western Desert</name> edition which 
arrived by air a few hours after publication. Half-hearted 
attempts to prosecute Egyptian war profiteers made wry reading. The <hi rend="i">NZEF Times</hi> brought the home news every week; a 
picture propaganda magazine, <hi rend="i">Parade</hi>, turned up too; and the 
<name key="name-014641" type="organisation">YMCA</name> cinema unit toured here and there, screening tirelessly 
‘Topper Takes a Trip’.</p>
        <p rend="indent">For all its bleak environment the life was better than at base 
camps. ‘I think that at <name key="name-026303" type="place">Kaponga</name> the troops were fitter and 
healthier than they ever were before or since,’ says Colonel 
Andrew, ‘and we should have gone direct from there into 
action.’ Other men, remembering ‘the terrific desert sores’, 
disagree firmly. ‘Gerry Fowler could tell you of some battles 
with desert sores and septic fingers,’ notes a stretcher-bearer, 
‘and how nearly every “cocky” in Taranaki provided ointment 
and liniment and the Lord knows what through parcels for 
D Company.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">At Kaponga, first thing every morning before starting his 
daily jobs, Padre <name key="name-011638" type="person">Thorpe</name><note xml:id="fn1-93" n="6"><p><name key="name-011638" type="person">Rev. D. D. Thorpe</name>; <name key="name-007584" type="place">Christchurch</name>; born Little Akaloa, <date when="1908-11-16">16 Nov 1908</date>; Anglican minister.</p></note> would go across the desert plateau 
away from the unit's position to read the Psalms and Bible 
readings for the day, ‘and to pray for the men and for our 
people at home, and that I might be of some use. At the time 
about which I speak things were pretty bad with the Allies; 
I tried to see the world situation from a moral and spiritual 
point of view. How else could we pray? And of course there 
<hi rend="i">were</hi> great moral issues at stake, and it was important that we 
should keep that perspective in view. Otherwise we would not 
have right motives, when coming back after the war, to rebuild 
our nation on more secure moral foundations. It seemed, as it 
really was and is, a critical crisis in the story of mankind—with 
the rise of Nazi-ism, as an evil, destroying force and with plenty 
enough soul-less materialism corrupting our own people. With 
this background of thought, I prayed for the springs of spiritual 
renewal within our people, and of course within our own men
<pb xml:id="n94" n="94"/>
of the 22nd Bn. Stretching away for hundreds of miles was the 
desert, barren and lifeless, and symbolising to me in a very real 
way the desolation in the heart of man that gave rise to such a 
ghastly war. Moreover, Egypt itself depressed us by the corruption and slums (tho’ in the worst slums I had found inspiration 
when I saw Christian love in missionary centres). Tho’ I knew 
God's promises, could I ask for “a sign”?</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘My prayers seemed pretty hopeless. But then I remember 
I took a hold on myself, and stood up and prayed, accepting 
God's promise that those who pray believing are already 
answered. Then there came over me an assurance that whatever the barren appearance to the contrary, God had not forgotten man and his need, and His mighty purposes were working 
out. I turned to the Psalms of the day and the words were to 
me a direct message to confirm what I felt: “I am well pleased 
that the Lord hath heard the voice of my prayer, that He hath 
inclined His ear unto me, therefore shall I call upon Him as long 
as I live!” Verse after verse applied to our situation and to me.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘As I arose to go back from my meditation, something 
attracted my attention. Nearby on one of the dead-looking 
camel-bushes was an exquisite, wax-like flower, the only sign 
of life that I had seen in that vast dead desert. Then, nearby 
I saw a similar tiny, pink flower; and close by me I saw a little 
track in the sand behind a white snail-shell. All through the 
hot summer these snails had sealed themselves off with a waxy 
substance and had gummed themselves to camel-bushes. Intrigued by tiny signs of life I walked around for some hundreds 
of yards, and found not a sign of anything more; nor did I when 
moving around our position that day. Here was the “sign” I 
asked for. To me it was a way in which the good Lord said to 
me, that in the moral desolation of man He was still sovereign 
over His universe, and He would bring forth springs of life in 
the midst of man's failure. It was as real to me as if He had 
spoken by voice; and I knew I could help bring a new moral 
strength of purpose to those who were in the midst of the conflict.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">October<note xml:id="fn1-94" n="7"><p>The battalion's senior officers at the end of <date when="1941-09">September 1941</date> were: CO, Lt-Col L. W. Andrew; 2 i/c, <name key="name-000732" type="person">Maj T. C. Campbell</name> (Maj J. Leggat had gone to GHQ MEF). HQ Coy: OC, Lt F. G. Oldham. A Coy: OC, <name type="person">Capt J. Moore</name>; 2 i/c, <name key="name-011499" type="person">Capt E. T. Pleasants</name>. B Coy: OC, Capt E. F. Laws; 2 i/c, <name key="name-011583" type="person">Capt E. H. Simpson</name>. C Coy: OC, <name key="name-011232" type="person">Maj I. A. Hart</name>; 2 i/c, Capt R. R. T. Young. D Coy: OC, <name key="name-011396" type="person">Maj G. L. Mather</name>; 2 i/c, Capt K. R. S. Crarer.</p></note> brought an end to fortress work. The Division was
<pb xml:id="n95" n="95"/>
to train for mobile desert operations. The rest of the Division 
was now by the coast at <name key="name-002877" type="place">Baggush</name> Box, and 5 Brigade would 
join it there. In any future attack, as Brigadier Hargest pointed 
out during a visit, the infantry would be carried in motor transport up to the assembly point. Sometimes men might be carried 
into the fringe of the attack itself and debus under fire.</p>
        <p rend="indent">After a church parade on 5 October the battalion moved 
off in convoy, bound for <name key="name-002877" type="place">Baggush</name>, and travelled 25 miles westwards over the desert before bivouacking for the night. One 
man's impressions read: ‘Movement of a big formation in the 
desert is like a convoy at sea. As far as the eye ranges are motor 
vehicles big and small. They roll and dip with the undulations 
in the sand. The carriers forge along as escorts—like destroyers 
—and suddenly one will dart away, speeding to the head of the 
moving mass of vehicles, or to some point which needs watching.’ Before tea-time next day the battalion covered 50 to 60 
more miles to a gaunt escarpment scattered with mines at 
‘<name key="name-002877" type="place">Baggush</name> by the Sea’, as the parodies of ‘<name key="name-120032" type="place">Sussex</name> by the Sea’ 
described the dusty, flea- and bug-infested oasis. From here, 
after a month, big formations of New Zealand vehicles would 
move out, the Division would assemble and move towards 
<name key="name-001027" type="place">Libya</name>, one force moving in one body, nearly 3000 vehicles and 
over 19,000 men, in all its power and majesty, for the only time 
in its life. But first, something had to be learned of exercises, 
traffic discipline and manoeuvre. And time was running short.</p>
        <p rend="indent">News came through of a gallant escape from <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>. Early 
in July Second-Lieutenant Craig had broken out—the first 
officer to escape from his camp—from a prisoner-of-war cage 
near <name key="name-000608" type="place">Athens</name>. Two months later he and three companions 
reached <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name> via Antiparos. Engine trouble set in, and for 
twenty-four hours they drifted near Port Spinalonga. From 
there they set sail to <name key="name-000576" type="place">Alexandria</name>. The boat was small, and they 
suffered great hardship. They reached <name key="name-000576" type="place">Alexandria</name> on 8 October, 
and Craig, who had shown great fortitude all the time, went 
back to underground work in <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The troops practised, with map and compass, navigation and 
movement and speed over the desert by companies, by battalion, and then, for three days, by brigade. They moved at 
night without lights. They learned to scramble from 3-ton 
lorries, and to attack swiftly and in orderly fashion. B Echelon
<pb xml:id="n96" n="96"/>
(administration, supplies, sanitation) rehearsed its own movements and checked over rationing arrangements. A sergeant 
recalled the panic which set in back home when his family of 
four drove off for a Sunday picnic. ‘Now we've got <hi rend="i">800 men</hi> to 
feed and care for on the move, dammit,’ he wrote. They went 
through the motions of practising protection against aircraft 
and sudden raiders, both on the move and when halted for the 
night. Engineers gave talks and demonstrations on various types 
of mines and booby traps. A practice took place on the range 
with live grenades (Lieutenant <name key="name-011096" type="person">Davison</name><note xml:id="fn1-96" n="8"><p><name key="name-011096" type="person">Capt B. V. Davison</name>; <name key="name-120035" type="place">Lower Hutt</name>; born <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>, <date when="1914-10-25">25 Oct 1914</date>; traveller.</p></note> was injured here).</p>
        <p rend="indent">Then General Auchinleck (who had succeeded General 
Wavell after the first desert victories) took the salute at a parade 
at <name key="name-001332" type="place">Sidi Haneish</name> station, ‘the best gallop we had for a long time, 
luckily we moved along in our own dust storm.’ Admonishing 
7 Platoon's commander, Peter <name key="name-011253" type="person">Hockley</name>,<note xml:id="fn2-96" n="9"><p><name key="name-011253" type="person">Maj P. R. Hockley</name>, ED; <name key="name-120035" type="place">Lower Hutt</name>; born <name key="name-008318" type="place">Napier</name>, <date when="1917-12-02">2 Dec 1917</date>; clerk; now Regular soldier.</p></note> for untidy lines, 
Colonel Andrew pointed to a lumpy old sandbag, aimed a 
vigorous kick at it, and found it was full of solidly set cement. 
Some members of the battalion were allowed to see New Zealand play the Springboks, provided they marched with full 
equipment and ammunition. Other units went by truck. They 
saw the All Black, Jack <name key="name-209363" type="person">Sullivan</name>,<note xml:id="fn3-96" n="10"><p><name key="name-209363" type="person">L-Cpl J. L. Sullivan</name>; <name key="name-021363" type="place">New Plymouth</name>; born NZ <date when="1915-03-30">30 Mar 1915</date>; truck driver; wounded <date when="1942-06-27">27 Jun 1942</date>.</p></note> of D Company, score the 
only try of the match. Another All Black, Captain Arthur 
<name key="name-011689" type="person">Wesney</name>,<note xml:id="fn4-96" n="11"><p><name key="name-011689" type="person">Capt A. W. Wesney</name>; born <name key="name-036071" type="place">Invercargill</name>, <date when="1915-02-01">1 Feb 1915</date>; clerk; killed in action <date when="1941-11-23">23 Nov 1941</date>.</p></note> of 26 Battalion, converted Jack's try and kicked a 
penalty goal. He had two more weeks to live.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Padre Thorpe records in his diary the last two days at 
<name key="name-002877" type="place">Baggush</name> oasis:</p>
        <p rend="indent"><hi rend="i">Sunday, 9-11-’41</hi>. Expectancy in the air as I go from place to 
place among barbed wire and mines taking little services, before 
moving up into action….at the services in each place little 
messages for the occasion. After each service around a rough altar 
at the back of a V8, they come to kneel in brown dust for Holy 
Communion.</p>
        <p rend="indent">8 am: A Coy; 8.30: B and C and Holy Communion; 9.15: HQ 
and D and Holy Communion. Then as fast as rough desert will 
allow, along the flat to <name key="name-001169" type="organisation">21st Battalion</name> HQ escarpment with Major
<pb xml:id="n97" n="97"/>
<name key="name-010466" type="person">Harding</name><note xml:id="fn1-97" n="12"><p><name key="name-010466" type="person">Brig R. W. Harding</name>, DSO, MM, ED; Kirikopuni, <name key="name-120022" type="place">North Auckland</name>; born <name key="name-120092" type="place">Dargaville</name>, <date when="1896-02-29">29 Feb 1896</date>; farmer; Auck Regt 1916-19; CO <name key="name-001169" type="organisation">21 Bn</name> 1942-43; comd <name key="name-001162" type="organisation">5 Bde</name> 30 Apr-14 May 1943, 4 Jun-23 Aug 1943; twice wounded.</p></note> to a great parade of 21 Battalion HQ at 10.15 am. All 
ready. Again through the service is a sense of things to come, of 
committing those we love to God, of asking guidance and strength 
to go out into the fortunes of battle, ‘O, God, our Help in ages past’; 
Lieut.-Col. Allen gives the last message and we arrange for Holy 
Communion early tomorrow.</p>
        <p rend="indent">I called at HQ and saw Padre <name key="name-010647" type="person">Sheely</name><note xml:id="fn2-97" n="13"><p><name key="name-010647" type="person">Rev. Fr. W. Sheely</name>, m.i.d.; <name key="name-120061" type="place">Te Aroha</name>; born Hunterville, <date when="1907-10-05">5 Oct 1907</date>; Roman Catholic priest; p.w. <date when="1941-11-28">28 Nov 1941</date>.</p></note> (R.C.) and went on to 
<name key="name-001171" type="organisation">23rd Battalion</name> HQ for lunch with old friends….On to YM for 
as many primuses as they could sell me for the platoon trucks. To 
22 Battalion Headquarters and franked a pile of letters. To 28th 
[Battalion] for more primuses. Back in a cloud of dust to the deep 
concreted dugouts of C.C.S. for final visit to sick men including 
Padre <name key="name-011515" type="person">Read</name>,<note xml:id="fn3-97" n="14"><p><name key="name-011515" type="person">Rev. S. C. Read</name>; <name key="name-021363" type="place">New Plymouth</name>; born <name key="name-036071" type="place">Invercargill</name>, <date when="1905-08-24">24 Aug 1905</date>; Presbyterian minister; National Patriotic Fund commissioner, <name key="name-005787" type="place">UK</name>, 1944-46.</p></note> Doc. <name key="name-011360" type="person">MacGregor</name><note xml:id="fn4-97" n="15"><p><name key="name-011360" type="person">Capt K. P. L. MacGregor</name>; <name key="name-120126" type="place">Frankton</name>; born <name key="name-120018" type="place">Hamilton</name>, <date when="1911-10-08">8 Oct 1911</date>; medical practitioner.</p></note>—all anxious lest they get missed 
out of the coming offensive: visit to Transport 22 Battalion, up 
rocky escarpment to C Coy to give latest news from <name key="name-007278" type="organisation">BBC</name>, treacherous journey, along escarpment again to A Coy among whom I 
was living at the moment, and then quiet in the dusty, concrete 
gun-emplacement which is my home and my spiritual fortress, to 
sleep.</p>
        <p rend="indent"><hi rend="i">Monday, 10-11-’41</hi>. A cold shave in darkness and away to 21 
Battalion as light comes. Lieut.-Col. Allen meets me in battledress— 
which from now on replaces for all of us the scanty drill shorts— 
and we choose a rocky waadi against the escarpment. I open the 
back of the car and set out the silver vessels on the simple altar. 
One by one a few faithful come and stand in the cold wind for the 
simple service. As in all these last services there is the special thought 
for those in authority, for decisions on which shall hang the issue 
of the day, and the life or death of many. (I did not realise then 
[Padre Thorpe subsequently wrote] that the <name key="name-001169" type="organisation">21st Battalion</name> was to 
be so badly mauled at <name key="name-001334" type="place">Sidi Rezegh</name>, that among the killed would 
be the C.O. now kneeling for his last Holy Communion, and that 
Padre Sheely with many prisoners would be in German hands.) 
But here we commit all to God, rise to our feet and on with the 
day's work. Breakfast at <name key="name-001169" type="organisation">21st Battalion</name>'s officers' mess, back to A 
Coy by 8 am, away with the Ration Corporal, some 12 miles up 
the road to <name key="name-023795" type="place">Naafi</name> for emergency supplies, cigarettes for the wounded, 
wine for Holy Communion. Back for lunch, last letter to R—, 
and till 3 pm franking a great pile of innocent letters which may 
be the last. Called at the R.Q.M. for an extra water tin and a petrol
<pb xml:id="n98" n="98"/>
tin, go to the Transport for petrol, to D Coy for extra blankets and 
emergency ration. Mess in A Coy's officers dugout, <name key="name-007278" type="organisation">BBC</name> news, 
silence and prayer, get anti-gas ointment, finish!</p>
        <p rend="indent">They were off on Armistice Day. ‘Some idiot from Div H. 
or Base had the happy thought of sending us a lot of red poppies 
to buy. We didn't subscribe very much. Seemed a very “We 
who are about to die” stunt.’ Away they went, a motorised 
fleet, streaming up the coastal road, leaving behind the rehearsals in vain by the Canal, the hen-houses and humiliations 
of <name key="name-013532" type="place">Spinney Wood</name>, the navvy work at <name key="name-026303" type="place">Kaponga</name>. They were off, 
77 vehicles among 5 Brigade Group's 1006 lorries, trucks, cars, 
carriers and guns. They were off, 700-odd men, a twenty-sixth 
of the New Zealand Division, a hundred-and-sixty-fifth part 
of the newly formed <name key="name-018099" type="organisation">Eighth Army</name>'s 118,000 men and 17,600 
vehicles going towards battle.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The idea behind this campaign, the Second Libyan or 
CRUSADER campaign, was to drive the enemy out of North 
<name key="name-007773" type="place">Africa</name>. <name key="name-001027" type="place">Libya</name>'s two northern provinces, first <name key="name-003430" type="place">Cyrenaica</name> then 
<name key="name-016304" type="place">Tripolitania</name>, were to be captured in turn. The first step, which 
was to be taken in November, was not the relief of <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name> 
(this was incidental to the plan) but the destruction of the 
enemy's Armoured forces. Once the armour was shattered, 
General Auchinleck, holding <name key="name-003430" type="place">Cyrenaica</name> easily, hoped to advance into <name key="name-016304" type="place">Tripolitania</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Out in the desert from <name key="name-001092" type="place">Mersa Matruh</name>, 22 Battalion rested 
quietly while the other units of the Division moved into position. 
<name key="name-207994" type="person">General Freyberg</name> arrived from <name key="name-002877" type="place">Baggush</name> after jotting down in 
his diary: ‘Thirteen to dinner last night; part of <name key="name-000671" type="organisation">13 Corps</name>, and 
left on adventure 13th November.’ When they were all in place 
the New Zealand vehicles formed an oblong 12 miles long and 
8 miles wide: 2800-odd vehicles, 200 yards apart, each with a 
camouflage net to break revealing outlines and shadows. They 
rested, silent and still, waiting the word to go.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The word came. The oblong crawled forward, the Division 
moving as one entity for the first time in its history, early on 
Saturday, 15 November. Vehicles, still spaced 200 yards apart 
in case of enemy bombing, stretched from horizon to horizon, 
an unforgettable sight.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Speed was set at seven miles in the hour, for the ground with 
no roads whatsoever was humpy and patched in low, wiry
<pb xml:id="n99" n="99"/>
camel-thorn, the sand piled and packed in small hard cones 
about its roots. It was no joy-ride for the riflemen, jolted, 
bumped and bashed together, stiff at times from the cold, 
travelling under conditions which would have brought serious 
trouble to any transport firm carting farm animals. Yet ‘the 
morale of the Division was at its peak, a level never surpassed,’ 
writes a New Zealand historian.</p>
        <p rend="indent">They covered 60 miles this day, dug in, and settled down for 
the night, all lights banned except in the carefully blacked-out 
office trucks. Daylight movement was cut to a minimum, and 
all through Sunday they lay low, undetected. Evening brought 
intense activity. Vehicles drew in and closed up for the 25- 
mile night move. Green-shaded lamps, planted a mile or so 
apart, marked the route ahead.<note xml:id="fn1-99" n="16"><p>Flags marked the route in the daytime. The celebrated New Zealand black-diamond signposts, which would stretch across North Africa and then up <name key="name-001383" type="place">Italy</name> to <name key="name-001410" type="place">Trieste</name>, had not yet appeared.</p></note> The guiding lamps were 
placed and tended by provost who had gone on ahead, had 
done their work, and then had taken cover. The centre of each 
brigade moved along this route. The trucks ran into soft sand 
in the darkness, concertina movements began in the column 
—now fast and lurching, now crawling or halted.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Vehicles, halted in their tracks in the night, fanned out to 
200-yard intervals at daybreak. To allow for this sudden expansion, gaps of several miles had been left between the brigades. Men heard of an eve-of-battle message from <name key="name-005976" type="place">Britain</name>'s 
Prime Minister saying: ‘Now is the time to strike the hardest 
blow yet for final Victory, Home and Freedom.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">They moved again in the night. This was no orderly move, 
but a hectic scramble. Last night's bruises doubled. The route, 
not well chosen, lay across soft sand, small depressions, rocky 
rises and other obstacles. Trucks fell back and then, their 
drivers hoping against hope not to ram the vehicle ahead, raced 
forward to hold position in the darkness. The night, pitch dark, 
was slashed wide open with great sheets of light from a thunderstorm in the north. The brief flashes, momentarily lighting up 
the desert and dazzling drivers, revealed trucks, roaring angrily, 
disappearing into dust clouds. And the dust-caked riflemen, 
cooped together under the lurching canopies of the three-tonners, felt like dice in a shaker.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n100" n="100"/>
        <p rend="indent">A party from D Company went out in the afternoon to guard 
engineers cutting a 300-yard gap in the wire barrier along the 
Libyan frontier. (This barrier, no defensive measure, was to 
keep Mussolini's <name key="name-029443" type="organisation">Senussi</name> from straying.)</p>
        <p rend="indent">The next night, tangling with the trucks from another battalion, the 22nd moved into <name key="name-001027" type="place">Libya</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Inside the frontier, south of the chain of enemy forts, the 
New Zealanders, unmolested, waited in full battle order. With 
airfields soggy from recent rains, the bulk of the enemy air force 
remained grounded. The Division's move, both to the frontier 
and 12 miles farther north in the afternoon of 19 November, 
seemed to have been undetected by the enemy. English armoured vehicles and tanks arrived, most inoffensive looking at a 
short distance under their camouflage of false canopies. The 
complete and cocky confidence of these Englishmen, ‘some knee-high to a grasshopper’, made a deep and permanent impression 
on the New Zealanders—this and the fact that the English 
soldier was always short of sugar.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Before the New Zealand Division began its major operations, 
deadly fighting raged over a huge area of desert. Tanks hid 
hull-down behind any protecting rise, or charged from out of 
the sunset. One by one the engagements ended in flames, with 
oily smoke billowing above the horizon. Anti-tank guns claimed 
most tank victims. By the afternoon of 22 November the 
Germans began to get the upper hand. Our battle plan allowed 
dispersion of our armoured brigades, which were defeated one 
by one. The German properly co-ordinated all arms in his 
panzer divisions, but many of the British tank officers thought 
they could ‘go it alone’.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The New Zealanders were not to be sent to hem in the 
frontier forts from the west until the enemy armour had been 
at least neutralised by <name key="name-000672" type="organisation">30 Corps</name>. <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name> garrison also was not 
to start its break-out (to join hands with <name key="name-000672" type="organisation">30 Corps</name>) until the 
battle of the armour had reached a favourable stage. Both 
events seemed to have arrived on 21 November, when <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name> 
garrison started its push towards <name key="name-000816" type="place">Ed Duda</name> and the New Zealand 
Division resumed its northward advance. The auguries, however, had been false. The battle of the armoured brigades and 
panzer divisions began to turn in favour of the panzers by the
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP012a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP012a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP012a-g"/><head>Lieutenant W. C. Hart, Les Murphy and Jack Weir rest on the way back from <name key="name-003648" type="place">Gazala</name></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of army officers resting</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP012b"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP012b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP012b-g"/><head>Playing cards under the olive trees at <name key="name-015859" type="place">Haifa</name></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of soldiers resting</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP013a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP013a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP013a-g"/><head>17 Platoon's camp on the <name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name>-<name key="name-008587" type="place">Turkey</name> border</head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of an army camp</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP013b"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP013b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP013b-g"/><head>Captain Fred Oldham shaving in the Syrian desert</head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of an army officer</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP014a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP014a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP014a-g"/><head>22 Battalion digs in at <name key="name-001096" type="place">Minqar Qaim</name>. Lieutenant Sam McLernon left, elbows on knees) was later captured at Ruweisat</head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of army officers</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP014b"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP014b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP014b-g"/><head>A meal at <name key="name-026303" type="place">Kaponga</name></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of soldiers having a meal</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP015a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP015a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP015a-g"/><head>Sgt Keith Elliott, VC</head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of an army officer</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP015b"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP015b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP015b-g"/><head>Troops debus the day before the attack on <name key="name-001291" type="place">Ruweisat Ridge</name></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of troops with a truck</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP016a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP016a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP016a-g"/><head><name key="name-207994" type="person">General Freyberg</name> joins Captain MacDuff and members of B Company in a mug of tea, <date when="1942-10-26">26 October 1942</date></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of army officers</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP016b"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP016b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP016b-g"/><head>Tanks burning on <name key="name-004302" type="place">Miteiriya Ridge</name></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of smoke in a field </figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP017a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP017a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP017a-g"/><head>Unloading supplies at <name key="name-001351" type="place">Sollum</name>, <date when="1942-11">November 1942</date></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of ships</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP017b"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP017b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP017b-g"/><head>Moving through the minefield at Siwa Road, <date when="1942-11">November 1942</date></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of army movement</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP018a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP018a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP018a-g"/><head>22 Battalion Pipe Band, <name key="name-004262" type="place">Maadi</name>, <date when="1943">1943</date></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of an army band</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP018b"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP018b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP018b-g"/><head>22 Battalion prisoners of war at Stalag VIIIB</head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of soldiers</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP019a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP019a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP019a-g"/><head>Officers of 22 (Motor) Battalion, <name key="name-004262" type="place">Maadi</name>, <date when="1943-06">June 1943</date></head><p><hi rend="i">Back row, from left:</hi> Lt W. H. Cowper, Lt A. W. F. O'Reilly, Lt J. H. W. Dymock, Lt P. R.
Willock, Lt C. R. Carson, Lt P. B. Were, Lt R. E. Johnston, <name key="name-011693" type="person">Lt F. R. Wheeler</name>, Lt E. F. T.
Mullinder, <name key="name-002609" type="person">Lt T. F. Hegglun</name>, <name key="name-011695" type="person">Lt D. M. Whillans</name>, <name key="name-011657" type="person">Lt F. N. Twigg</name>. <hi rend="i">Centre row:</hi> Rev. T. E.
Champion, Capt W. A. Cawkwell, Capt D. Horn, <name key="name-011313" type="person">Capt R. R. Knox</name>, Major F. G. Oldham,
Major H. V. Donald, Lt-<name key="name-000732" type="person">Col T. C. Campbell</name>, Major J. L. MacDuff, Major P. R. Hockley,
Capt L. G. S. Cross, Capt J. Forster, Capt J. Milne, Capt G. S. Sainsbury. <hi rend="i">Front row:</hi> 2 Lt T. G.
Fowler, 2 Lt W. A. Tubert, (Not identified), 2 <name key="name-011080" type="person">Lt D. C. Cox</name>, Lt R. L. Thompson, Lt A. T.
House, Lt. L. R. Thomas, <name key="name-000927" type="person">Lt A. W. Hart</name>, Lt C. McKirdy, 2 <name key="name-011380" type="person">Lt J. H. McNeil</name>, <name key="name-011233" type="person">Lt W. C. Hart</name>,
Lt T. N. Bright</p><figDesc>Black and white photograph of army officers</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP019b"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP019b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP019b-g"/><head>Mess queue during the march from <name key="name-004262" type="place">Maadi</name> to <name key="name-000728" type="place">Burg el Arab</name>, <date when="1943-09">September 1943</date></head><figDesc>Black and white photograph of soldiers in a que</figDesc></figure>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP020a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP020a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP020a-g"/><figDesc>Coloured map of Northern Egypt</figDesc></figure>
<pb xml:id="n101" n="101"/>
<figure xml:id="WH2-22Ba101a"><graphic url="WH2-22Ba101a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22Ba101a-g"/><head><hi rend="sc">5 brigade positions around bardia, <date when="1941-11">november 1941</date></hi></head><figDesc>Black and white map of army positions</figDesc></figure>
afternoon of 22 November. Early news of the fighting was 
optimistic and the enemy's losses greatly exaggerated.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The order for action, soon to affect the battalion, came early 
on 21 November. The forces to the north—the strongholds of 
<name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>, <name key="name-001351" type="place">Sollum</name> and <name key="name-011218" type="place">Halfaya</name>—were to be blocked from the 
west, completing their isolation, for already the Indians had 
hemmed them in from east and south. Fifth Brigade, screened 
by the <name key="name-001158" type="organisation">Divisional Cavalry</name>, was to cut <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> from <name key="name-001351" type="place">Sollum</name>. 
Fourth Brigade would move north too, while 6 Brigade remained for the moment in reserve.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n102" n="102"/>
        <p rend="indent">The battalion<note xml:id="fn1-102" n="17"><p>These sub-units came under the command of 22 Bn: 28 Bty <name key="name-001153" type="organisation">5 Fd Regt</name> (for a day), one troop 32 A-Tk Bty, 2 MG PI, one section <name key="name-009611" type="organisation">7 Fd Coy</name>, 1 detail (eight men) <name key="name-009616" type="organisation">5 Fd Amb</name>.</p></note> formed up at noon and moved off towards 
the north. The brigade's three rifle battalions were carried on 
lorries of 309 General Transport Company, a British unit 
borrowed for the campaign. They travelled steadily for about 
four hours, meeting nothing more formidable than a heavy 
rainstorm, and halted about four miles from <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>, not a 
settlement but merely a landing strip and a junction on the 
worn caravan trail known as Trigh (track) <name key="name-000737" type="place">Capuzzo</name>. The trail, 
faint and in some parts quite obliterated by drifting sand, runs 
from the border to south of <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name>, and far into the west. 
Twenty-second Battalion was to capture and hold the track 
junction near <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>, and prevent any enemy movement 
east or west.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The cavalcade of 1000 vehicles had scarcely halted after 
covering 20 miles when the battalion was ordered to push on 
and take <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name> immediately. <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name> was deserted—but 
only just: from what men saw of dugouts and hastily abandoned 
articles lying about it appeared that the enemy had left in a 
hurry only a little time ago. Potatoes were still cooking on untended fires; a lonely wind scattered letters from home, curious-looking magazines and writing material. A <name key="name-001158" type="organisation">Divisional Cavalry</name> 
squadron, striking the first blow of the campaign, had raided 
the place, taking about fifty prisoners, lorried infantry and 
gunners, including a startled Italian officer in his bath. The 
enemy had not attempted to return. The battalion at once 
organised to meet any counter-attack, and all companies went 
quickly into position. Captured material included four <name key="name-202960" type="place">Breda</name> 
guns and large quantities of ammunition, seven trucks, two 
motor-cycles and a great wad of paper money. The carriers 
found a treasure trove inside an aircraft fully loaded and ready 
for flight. The night was peaceful.</p>
        <p rend="indent">While the battalion continued digging in next morning 
during heavy rain at <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>, D Company left to probe the 
outskirts of <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> itself, 11 miles north-east. With the riflemen 
went seven carriers, a troop of anti-tank guns, and a detachment of two mortars. The small force had been told that 23 Battalion was ‘rolling up the opposition’ on the road running north
<pb xml:id="n103" n="103"/>
from <name key="name-000737" type="place">Capuzzo</name> to <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>. D Company's urgent task was to head 
them off and round them up by <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>'s crossroads just before 
the Italians reached the protecting defences. The battalion war 
diary says that Major Campbell was to ‘push forward as far 
as cross-roads outside <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> and withdraw without getting into 
serious fight’, but Campbell got no such impression. If he had, 
he would have pulled back much sooner; for the crossroads 
were actually inside the <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> defences.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Lieutenant Bob <name key="name-011313" type="person">Knox</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-103" n="18"><p><name key="name-011313" type="person">Maj R. R. Knox</name>, MC, m.i.d.; born <name key="name-120045" type="place">Scotland</name>, <date when="1910-06-10">10 Jun 1910</date>; carpenter; twice wounded.</p></note> with his seven carriers, went well 
ahead in arrowhead formation, his task to contact the enemy, 
find his strength, flanks and position on the ground, engage him, 
and radio back all information to D Company. The carriers, 
keen to reach their objective before 23 Battalion appeared, 
pressed on, flushed a party of Italians, simultaneously came 
under fire, suspected an ambush, directed the Italians where 
to make for, and swung off on a wide right-flanking circuit to 
the outer defences of <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>, ‘a sea of barbed wire in which 
there was a kind of gateway,’ Knox writes. ‘I of course moved 
through this opening and noticed hundreds of men in uniform 
about 100 yards ahead and to my left. Some were standing, 
others just lounging around. I remarked to my driver <name key="name-405087" type="person">C. G. 

Watson</name><note xml:id="fn2-103" n="19"><p><name key="name-405087" type="person">Pte C. G. Watson</name>; <name key="name-120035" type="place">Lower Hutt</name>; born NZ <date when="1905-04-25">25 Apr 1905</date>; tractor driver; wounded <date when="1941-12-12">12 Dec 1941</date>.</p></note> that these men must be the 23 Battalion who had 
beaten us to the job.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘“Like hell!” says <name key="name-405087" type="person">Slim Watson</name>. “These Bs are Ites!”</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘Being doubtful and wanting to make sure, I told him to 
drive closer. The Ites just stood and looked at us, apparently 
under the impression that anything mechanical was German.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘When we get up about 60 yards from them I realise what 
has happened. I remember adjusting the sights on my Bren 
gun and putting it on to single shot. I aimed at one poor fellow 
who was standing smoking a cigarette. I pressed the trigger 
and strangely enough two rounds went from the gun and the 
fellow dropped, having collected both. Of course everyone else 
in the vicinity dropped out of sight into slit trenches which I 
hadn't noticed.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘I next stood up to yell charge (like a bloody fool), and then 
for the first time discovered that I only had three carriers under
<pb xml:id="n104" n="104"/>
Sergeant <name key="name-011233" type="person">Hart</name><note xml:id="fn1-104" n="20"><p><name key="name-011233" type="person">Lt W. C. Hart</name>; born NZ <date when="1910-07-10">10 Jul 1910</date>; roofer; killed in action <date when="1944-09-21">21 Sep 1944</date>.</p></note> with me, the other three having captured the 
prisoners and taken them back to D Company's headquarters.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘I sat down behind my gun and opened up on a German 
staff car which was moving off as fast as possible. No sooner 
had I opened fire than all hell broke loose, so informing my 
driver to get out through the gateway I told my wireless operator 
to contact D Company and tell them the news.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The carrier party, passing through ‘their smallfire stuff which 
was buzzing around us like a swarm of angry bees', took cover 
in a handy wadi, untouched by heavy shelling but reached by 
mortars ‘which really didn't seem to be very heavy.’ This wadi 
indicated a fairly safe way back towards D Company.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Meanwhile D Company, now about seven miles on from Sidi 
Azeiz, rounded up the party of Italian prisoners, and continued 
the advance in vehicles in desert formation according to the 
drill book. Almost immediately down came heavy artillery fire 
from the left. The trucks drove on until the fire grew too 
accurate, with mortars joining the fray, and were then sent 
back while the company deployed and continued on foot over 
bare open ground in a determined attempt to reach the crossroads. The men were plodding on through an area marked 
with various large heaps of stones and large drums. The enemy 
was now ranging on to these identification marks, mortar fire 
was extremely accurate, ‘landing among us like raindrops’, 
and here several casualties, including Charlie <name key="name-011598" type="person">Smith</name>,<note xml:id="fn2-104" n="21"><p><name key="name-011598" type="person">Pte C. B. Smith</name>; born NZ <date when="1919-01-12">12 Jan 1919</date>; clerk; died of wounds <date when="1942-01-05">5 Jan 1942</date>.</p></note> were 
incurred. Many were actually knocked over by the blast but 
were otherwise unhurt. ‘Mac let out a wild yell, and there 
bouncing along the ground with terrific leaps was the nosecap 
of a shell–we stood fascinated and watched its progress past 
us—then carried on and walked the rest of the way—funny 
how the tension had gone.’ Soon they ran into machine-gun 
fire. More were wounded. Fortunately at this moment badly 
needed cover seems to have been detected by <name key="name-011345" type="person">Lieutenant Bill 
Lovie</name><note xml:id="fn3-104" n="22"><p><name key="name-011345" type="person">Capt W. G. Lovie</name>; born NZ <date when="1899-02-17">17 Feb 1899</date>; journalist.</p></note> and 16 Platoon on the right.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Major Campbell (known as ‘pooch’ because of his frequent 
orders to ‘booten up your pooches’) writes: ‘I seized the opportunity as a rain shower moved across us to quickly change 
direction right with the whole company and seek the cover of 
a very low ridge. I am quite satisfied that this completely foxed
<pb xml:id="n105" n="105"/>
the enemy defences which, being unable to find us, thereafter 
left us severely alone.’ An attempt to bring up the transport 
and resume the advance as another shower approached, however, brought a further hail of fire. The platoons deployed and 
Campbell settled down to observe what he could of the enemy 
defences, intending at nightfall to withdraw the company to 
<name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>. Foot patrols failed to contact 23 Battalion: the radio 
at this stage failed to get through to Battalion Headquarters.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Knox had now returned to the company area, placed his 
Bren-gunners on the ground to a flank where enemy positions 
could be picked out quite easily without binoculars, then went 
back to report to Battalion Headquarters, and returned under 
heavy fire. He met Corporal <name key="name-011026" type="person">Caldwell</name><note xml:id="fn1-105" n="23"><p><name key="name-011026" type="person">Lt W. A. D. Caldwell</name>; <name key="name-021225" type="place">Gisborne</name>; born <name key="name-021225" type="place">Gisborne</name>; <date when="1919-11-27">27 Nov 1919</date>; clerk; wounded <date when="1942-07-15">15 Jul 1942</date>.</p></note> who, although exhausted with little sleep in the last forty-eight hours, cheerfully 
volunteered to guide him to Company Headquarters. There 
Knox passed on the Colonel's orders: ‘Tell Campbell to withdraw his company immediately.’ It was now between four and 
five o'clock. Knowing a move now (instead of waiting for dusk) 
would bring casualties, Campbell questioned this order. But it 
was confirmed and so he carried it out, himself bringing up the 
rear. He adds: ‘No sooner had the first section of the leading 
platoon poked its nose round the corner from our hideout than 
the symphony commenced. However, everybody moved steadily 
and we had very few casualties in this withdrawal. I think we 
had only one man killed…. There were one or two wounded 
though not seriously, and we were lucky to have got away so 
lightly.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The waiting trucks, just out of shell range, were a welcome 
sight to D Company, and soon, travelling by truck and Bren 
carrier, most of the men were back with the battalion again at 
<name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>, where important information was passed on promptly about the gun positions, the estimated calibre of the guns, 
fields of fire and range. In the battalion's first action in <name key="name-001027" type="place">Libya</name> 
four were killed (<name key="name-011088" type="person">Crompton</name>,<note xml:id="fn2-105" n="24"><p><name key="name-011088" type="person">Lt W. J. Crompton</name>; born NZ <date when="1917-10-03">3 Oct 1917</date>; salesman; killed in action <date when="1941-11-22">22 Nov 1941</date>.</p></note> <name key="name-011516" type="person">Redpath</name>,<note xml:id="fn3-105" n="25"><p><name key="name-011516" type="person">Pte T. A. Redpath</name>; born <name key="name-002817" type="place">Auckland</name>, <date when="1911-07-19">19 Jul 1911</date>; miner; killed in action <date when="1941-11-22">22 Nov 1941</date>.</p></note> ‘Shorty’ <name key="name-011549" type="person">Sangster</name>,<note xml:id="fn4-105" n="26"><p><name key="name-011549" type="person">Pte C. Sangster</name>; born NZ <date when="1909-11-04">4 Nov 1909</date>; farmer; killed in action <date when="1941-11-22">22 Nov 1941</date>.</p></note> 
and ‘Sandy’ <name key="name-011355" type="person">McClintock</name><note xml:id="fn5-105" n="27"><p><name key="name-011355" type="person">Pte A. J. McClintock</name>; born NZ <date when="1915-12-05">5 Dec 1915</date>; labourer; died of wounds <date when="1941-11-22">22 Nov 1941</date>.</p></note>) and fifteen wounded, a high cost for
<pb xml:id="n106" n="106"/>
eleven Italian prisoners. The men ‘had behaved magnificently’ 
under fire; Private Laurie <name key="name-011073" type="person">Corbett</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-106" n="28"><p><name key="name-011073" type="person">Pte L. G. W. Corbett</name>; born NZ <date when="1919-01-05">5 Jan 1919</date>; transport driver; deceased.</p></note> 
who had coolly driven an 
ammunition-laden 8-cwt truck under fire to pick up wounded, 
recalls these two incidents:</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘I remember seeing a fellow (I think his nickname was 
“Irish”) coming out with his full equipment, pack, rifle, etc. 
and marching with his head high in the air. He had the lower 
portion of one side of his jaw cut wide open with a shell splinter, 
but apparently he wasn't worried very much about that because 
he just went past me and smiled.’ And: ‘Tom [Campbell] was 
lying on the ground with bullets hitting the ground in front of 
him. He was obviously the main target because of his dress 
which was a white trench-coat. He also had a great big map 
board with him. I told him to throw the coat away, but he 
said it was “too cold”. Hell! The sweat was pouring off my nose 
which was pretty close to the ground.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">As the company cleared the line of shells the Medical Officer, 
Captain <name key="name-011667" type="person">Volckman</name>,<note xml:id="fn2-106" n="29"><p><name key="name-011667" type="person">Maj W. G. Volckman</name>, m.i.d.; Leeston; born <name key="name-008390" type="place">Oxford</name>, <date when="1902-07-26">26 Jul 1902</date>; medical
practitioner.</p></note> was waiting with the greeting: ‘Have you 
anything for me?’ ‘He was in a trench coat, his fore-and-aft cap 
sideways on his head, and a more striking resemblance to 
Claude Raines with his hands in his pockets would be hard to 
find. “By jove,” said someone, “you look just like Napoleon.” 
The name stuck, and he was always referred to after that as 
“Nap”.</p>
        <p rend="indent">In two three-tonners just after dark, Donald and his platoon 
(14) from C Company went back for wounded who could not 
be found or were isolated by particularly heavy fire during the 
withdrawal. Near the spot the platoon left the trucks and walked 
forward cautiously. ‘It was pitch black,’ writes Donald. ‘We 
had to comb the ground close to the defences. We left one 
section at the trucks: too many men would have been difficult 
to control. We spread out in a long line about five yards between 
men, almost the limit of visibility, and started to comb the 
ground systematically. It was very eerie with the searchers calling out in hushed voices the names of the missing men, with 
flares meantime going up intermittently from the Italian lines. 
Everyone froze when the flares went up, and we felt as if we had
<pb xml:id="n107" n="107"/>
been stripped to the skin, but not a man moved, although every 
moment we were expecting the dread chatter of a machine-gun.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Then Donald received a shock. A grinning face under a 
shock of curly hair poked over his shoulder, and a Scotch voice 
said: ‘Hullo.’ It was Jock (‘Haggis’) <name key="name-011346" type="person">Lowe</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-107" n="30"><p><name key="name-011346" type="person">L-Sgt J. T. Lowe</name>; <name key="name-120141" type="place">Waipukurau</name>; born <name key="name-120045" type="place">Scotland</name>, <date when="1906-06-10">10 Jun 1906</date>; labourer.</p></note> flatly disobeying 
orders to stay with the trucks. Donald reprimanded him. ‘But 
you're bloody pleased to see me, aren't you?’ said Jock. ‘Yes,’ 
said Donald emphatically. With Jerry Fowler and Jock playing 
a notable part, they collected every man. For their work in this 
action and previous campaigns, Campbell was awarded the 
MC and Fowler the MM.</p>
        <p rend="indent">In the west a dramatic change had begun. The armoured 
corps had suffered heavy losses, while the sortie from <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name> 
had halted. This affected 5 Brigade and, in its turn, 22 Battalion. At 2 p.m. on 22 November (while D Company was still 
pinned down before <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>) this signal reached Divisional 
Headquarters from <name key="name-000671" type="organisation">13 Corps</name>:</p>
        <p rend="indent">Leave minimum troops to observe enemy <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> and send remainder your troops to clear up north <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>-<name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name> road, and 
advance on <name key="name-002725" type="place">Gambut</name> which enemy aircraft still using. Advance 
west will best assist plan.</p>
        <p rend="indent">For <name key="name-000672" type="organisation">30 Corps</name> was beaten, and <name key="name-000671" type="organisation">13 Corps</name> had to do its best to 
link up with <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name> as well as isolate the frontier forts—a makeshift arrangement and no part of the original plan. For the rest 
of this ill-fated and confused campaign the New Zealand Division was split into two parts: 5 Brigade, by the frontier and 
under fire from the forts, was soon to be buffeted by raiding 
panzers while 4 and 6 Brigades battled about the gaunt slopes 
of <name key="name-003368" type="place">Belhamed</name> and <name key="name-001334" type="place">Sidi Rezegh</name> in the Division's bloodiest fighting 
of the entire war.</p>
        <p rend="indent">In 5 Brigade's tasks along the frontier forts<note xml:id="fn2-107" n="31"><p><name key="name-001169" type="organisation">21 Bn</name> moved westwards with <name key="name-006644" type="place">Divisional Headquarters</name> and <name key="name-001168" type="organisation">20 Bn</name>, and <name key="name-001162" type="organisation">5 Bde</name>
was down to three battalions: <name key="name-001171" type="organisation">23 Bn</name> at <name key="name-000737" type="place">Capuzzo</name>, 22 Bn on the way to <name key="name-004266" type="place">Menastir</name>,
and <name key="name-002582" type="organisation">28 (Maori) Bn</name> at upper <name key="name-001351" type="place">Sollum</name>. Together with 4 Indian Division, <name key="name-001162" type="organisation">5 Bde</name>
was to keep the frontier forts isolated. For the time being it was out of the question
to capture <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>, lower <name key="name-001351" type="place">Sollum</name> or <name key="name-011218" type="place">Halfaya</name>.</p></note> 22 Battalion 
was concerned with <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>, a somewhat meagre port but important as an anchor of the frontier defences. It now held a 
reinforced brigade of Italians stiffened by Germans and appropriate artillery.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n108" n="108"/>
        <p rend="indent">The battalion (briefly without B Company, which did not 
move on and join up until after dark) set off towards <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> 
on 23 November, which dawned to the rumble of heavy gunfire and flashes far to the south. Moving seven miles north-eastwards from <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>, the battalion came to the 150-foot-high 
escarpment stretching past <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>, and took over from 20 Battalion, which the day before had dug in on the escarpment and 
fanned out below to sever the <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name>-<name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> road. The new 
position, a few miles west of <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> garrision, was reached about 
noon. Occupation was delayed by a scuffle between 20 Battalion and a hotch-potch of enemy with half a dozen lightly 
armoured, half-tracked guns (mistaken for tanks). Then 20 
Battalion streamed away to the battle in the west, and the 
22nd, piling up stones in front of slit trenches to improve the 
defences, was in position by 2 p.m. Some men, while digging 
in, noticed thermos-flask bombs scattered about. Late in the 
afternoon transport was seen towards <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>; shells from the 
garrison burst harmlessly on the escarpment a mile away. Here, 
firmly planted among rock and sand in the area named Menastir after a nearby well, the battalion stayed for five days, 
masking the <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> fortress from the west and cutting the 
coastal road from <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">At <name key="name-004266" type="place">Menastir</name> A Company took up position forward by the 
crossroads below the escarpment, C Company was placed to 
the east, and D to the west, on the escarpment, both with a 
platoon of medium machine guns. Headquarters took up the 
central position with the field artillery to the south. Twentieth 
Battalion's prisoners were sent back to 5 Brigade, which was 
now setting up its headquarters at <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>. B Company 
stayed at <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name> as a guard for Brigade Headquarters, but 
was called back briefly to the battalion during the night. 
Colonel Andrew was expecting ‘a bit of fun’ in the morning. 
B Company arrived in the B Echelon area and settled down 
as a reserve company.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The ‘bit of fun’ arrived at breakfast time on 24 November: 
‘Oh, they're only our blokes,’ said somebody, and breakfast continued until interrupted by sudden mortar, machine-gun and 
rifle fire.</p>
        <p rend="indent">What looked like two companies of Germans attacked from 
the east. They were difficult to spot. They advanced directly
<pb xml:id="n109" n="109"/>
in front of the sun, and did not open fire until within 1000 yards. 
The battalion immediately manned all defences and turned the 
attackers back with heavy counter-fire from all weapons, the 
artillery, Bofors and anti-tank guns opening fire at a range of 
1500 yards over open sights. B Company, from reserve, set out 
after the enemy until he reached his transport beyond the ridge. 
The counter-attack halted, but <name key="name-010962" type="person">Bob Bayliss</name><note xml:id="fn1-109" n="32"><p><name key="name-010962" type="person">WO II R. J. Bayliss</name>, MM; born Hastings, <date when="1909-02-08">8 Feb 1909</date>; shepherd; killed in
action <date when="1942-10-26">26 Oct 1942</date>.</p></note> had not had 
enough. With Jack <name key="name-010923" type="person">Adeane</name><note xml:id="fn2-109" n="33"><p><name key="name-010923" type="person">Sgt J. J. Adeane</name>, <name key="name-021225" type="place">Gisborne</name>; born NZ <date when="1919-10-17">17 Oct 1919</date>; clerk; wounded <date when="1942-10-26">26 Oct 1942</date>.</p></note> and another he chased five Germans for a mile, finally forcing them to ground. Bob, with a 
man on each flank, went in with his tommy gun. He shot two 
in the last 30 yards, and then the German officer emptied his 
Luger at him at point-blank range and missed. Bob, who 
brought the officer (‘a truculent b—’) and two other captives back with him, won the MM.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The action, in which five soldiers were wounded, lasted about 
half an hour. Nine prisoners were taken, several enemy dead 
were buried, and spasmodic shelling of the ridge continued 
without any further enemy attack. A private ‘spent the hot 
moments in a hole feeling homesick and a bundle of nerves.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Fifth Brigade's policy now was to harass with strong patrols 
the enemy in his isolated forts, and to keep him guessing. 
Accordingly, after finishing the rudely interrupted breakfast, a 
fighting patrol from 14 Platoon (C Company) moved out, reconnoitred the enemy defensive positions outside <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>, and although under heavy artillery fire, edged to within a thousand 
yards of the main defences and to within a few hundred yards 
of an outpost. The patrol returned unscathed with useful information (including the heartening news that 20 to 30 per cent 
of the enemy shells were duds) and a little brandy, spare water, 
and socks, all picked up in a small deserted Italian camp. A 
Company seized an incautious Italian truck at the crossroads. 
B Company (less one platoon), supported by carriers, went out 
on a long sweep north of the coastal road, covered 32 miles, 
‘an uncomfortable trip, no place for lorries’, rounded up six 
Italians, and on return received a rude welcome from a two-pounder gun in A Company's area. Many a man spent a restless night hearing imaginary shells. A few night bombers passed 
overhead.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n110" n="110"/>
        <p rend="indent">Defences were well strengthened (more digging, more rocks 
piled up). Next day (the 25th) was quiet, with reports of enemy 
armoured fighting vehicles on the prowl. The precautions were 
just as well. The tanks with 5 Brigade had left the day before 
for <name key="name-001334" type="place">Sidi Rezegh</name> because General Godwin-Austen believed ‘the 
battle will be won in the forward zone’. At dusk Brigadier 
Hargest radioed from <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name> and said an awkward situation had arisen in the south. (An enormous German cavalcade 
of <date when="2000">2000</date> vehicles had suddenly been reported coming up from 
the south, from <name key="name-023876" type="place">Sheferzen</name>, near where the Division had crossed 
through the frontier wire.) Hargest was sending his non-fighting B Echelon, supply columns and <name key="name-001158" type="organisation">Divisional Cavalry</name> B Echelon to 22 Battalion for protection. Probably he would follow. 
B Company, not without misgivings, was sent back to Sidi 
Azeiz to give Brigade Headquarters protection. Rumours buzzed all through the night.</p>
        <p rend="indent">At dawn on the 26th the battalion made ready for action. 
All vehicles moved to the foot of the escarpment, joining transport which had arrived from Brigade Headquarters.<note xml:id="fn1-110" n="34"><p>Among those reaching 22 Battalion from 5 Brigade were 27 RASC men who
had been recaptured; they confirmed that 40 enemy tanks and some MT were
west of <name key="name-001333" type="place">Sidi Omar</name> and were believed to be making for <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>.</p></note> The 
artillery moved in closer, taking up a position in the centre of 
the perimeter, and the guns swung their dark muzzles out towards the bare desert. Carrier patrols scouted south-west for 
six miles but saw no enemy movement.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Meanwhile Peter Butler, Tom <name key="name-011259" type="person">Hood</name><note xml:id="fn2-110" n="35"><p><name key="name-011259" type="person">Pte T. M. Hood</name>; <name key="name-002817" type="place">Auckland</name>; born NZ <date when="1914-02-27">27 Feb 1914</date>; carpenter.</p></note> and Bill <name key="name-011212" type="person">Greig</name><note xml:id="fn3-110" n="36"><p><name key="name-011212" type="person">Pte W. J. Greig</name>; born NZ <date when="1918-09-28">28 Sep 1918</date>; lorry driver.</p></note>, who 
were driving south for supplies, were about 18 miles south of 
Brigade and <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>. Suddenly like a rocket over the ridge 
soared a truck. The English driver slowed up momentarily to 
stutter: ‘T-t-t-tanks!’, then shot on again. They ignored the 
nervous fellow. Then one of the party, strolling up to the ridge, 
looked down on to a swarm of hostile fighting vehicles. Despite 
the Tommy's flying start, the three 22 Battalion men passed 
him and beat him to Brigade. Well before this, in the early 
hours of the morning, a 22 Battalion patrol stationed at Sidi 
Azeiz had reported to Brigade Headquarters. This patrol, led 
by Lieutenant <name key="name-010955" type="person">Barton</name>,<note xml:id="fn4-110" n="37"><p><name key="name-010955" type="person">Capt D. G. Barton</name>; <name key="name-021363" type="place">New Plymouth</name>; born Marton, <date when="1912-06-14">14 Jun 1912</date>; bank clerk;
p.w. <date when="1941-11-27">27 Nov 1941</date>.</p></note> reported what seemed to be a powerful 
<pb xml:id="n111" n="111"/>
enemy force camped across Trigh <name key="name-000737" type="place">Capuzzo</name> and about five 
miles west of <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>. This made at least two strong forces 
approaching <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The balloon went up at 10 a.m., preceded spectacularly by 
an Me110 sweeping over the battalion at a height of less than 
50 feet—some men fired their first shot of the war against this 
plane. A big enemy convoy (<hi rend="i"><name key="name-000873" type="organisation">15 Panzer Division</name></hi>) appeared from 
the dusty south-west and moved, apparently without end, along 
Trigh <name key="name-000737" type="place">Capuzzo</name> towards <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>, between the battalion and 
Brigade Headquarters' area. Fired on by the forces at Sidi 
Azeiz (a few carriers, some 25-pounders with little ammunition, 
and machine guns briefly engaged the column with little success), the host swung towards <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> and came under fire from 
guns in 22 Battalion's area. Vehicles were too well spaced to 
suffer much harm, and the convoy, estimated by the battalion 
at between 700 and 800 vehicles, was intent on reaching <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>. 
Two enemy armoured cars on the ridge <date when="2000">2000</date> yards east of the 
battalion made off when shells landed near them. Major Tom 
Campbell, watching through binoculars, suddenly exclaimed: 
‘Good Heavens! Our water cart has joined the procession!’ 
This was only too true. Abruptly, to a sprinkling of fire, the 
water truck left the convoy and came wildly into New Zealand 
territory. Ted <name key="name-011281" type="person">Jaggard</name><note xml:id="fn1-111" n="38"><p><name key="name-011281" type="person">L-Cpl E. H. Jaggard</name>; <name key="name-021386" type="place">Palmerston North</name>; born <name key="name-008123" type="place">Wanganui</name>, <date when="1906-03-17">17 Mar 1906</date>; farmhand.</p></note> jumped out and, half smiling, stuttered: 
‘—! Made a mistake, thought they were South Africans by 
the sun-helmets. Cows started shooting’—a long speech for him.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Then, quite apart from the main convoy, another force 
appeared: enemy armoured fighting vehicles coming in from 
the west at the foot of the escarpment. This second force was 
coming from <name key="name-002725" type="place">Gambut</name> with repaired tanks and supplies for 
<hi rend="i"><name key="name-000873" type="organisation">15 Panzer Division</name></hi>, but it did not get through; it was driven back 
by F Troop 32 Anti-Tank Battery, which scored direct hits.<note xml:id="fn2-111" n="39"><p>The 22 Battalion group now included four 25-pdr guns (one troop of <name key="name-010587" type="organisation">28 Battery</name>
had gone with B Company to <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>), four 2-pdr anti-tank guns, three Bofors,
and 12 Vickers guns (<name key="name-021938" type="organisation">4 Coy</name> <name key="name-003516" type="organisation">27 (MG) Bn</name>). All contributed handsomely towards
staving off the enemy.</p></note></p>
        <p rend="indent">Vehicles in the main convoy were still passing at dusk and 
in fact not long before midnight one group came close to 14 
Platoon C Company (all standing-to), an English voice called 
‘Hullo’, someone opened up, and away they went. The entire
<pb xml:id="n112" n="112"/>
German Army seemed to be on the move. Dumbfounded over 
events, every man knew one thing: he was in for a hot time tomorrow. In short, 5 Brigade, intent on isolating the frontier forts, 
was now thoroughly isolated itself. Rommel, confident of victory 
near <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name>, had boldly but foolishly sent all his armour circling south-eastwards, then north, in a massive raid to wipe out 
forces menacing the frontier forts. (Incidentally this period, 
24-26 November, was not a bright spot in Rommel's career. 
Not a single well-prepared or well-directed operation was laid 
on during this time, and at <name key="name-001333" type="place">Sidi Omar</name> <name key="name-024246" type="organisation">7 Indian Brigade</name> defeated and crippled the tank regiment of <hi rend="i"><name key="name-000874" type="organisation">21 Panzer Division</name>.</hi>) 
The tables were turned. The raid did not succeed, but up and 
down the frontier, confused and despairing lightly-armed and 
non-fighting units (including <name key="name-000671" type="organisation">13 Corps</name> Headquarters) milled, 
fled, or were gathered up by the raiders.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘Hargest in hopeless position but Corps HQ won't let him 
move,’ noted Ray <name key="name-011543" type="person">Salter</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-112" n="40"><p><name key="name-011543" type="person">Pte R. Salter</name>; Russell; born NZ <date when="1918-06-07">7 Jun 1918</date>; greenkeeper.</p></note> of Battalion Headquarters, in his 
diary. The Brigadier certainly was not prohibited from moving 
his vulnerable headquarters from <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>; he intended to 
move to <name key="name-004266" type="place">Menastir</name> on the afternoon of 27 November, but this 
was too late. Captain <name key="name-011583" type="person">Simpson</name><note xml:id="fn2-112" n="41"><p><name key="name-011583" type="person">Capt E. H. Simpson</name>; Marton; born Marton, <date when="1908-02-11">11 Feb 1908</date>; farmer; p.w.
<date when="1941-11-27">27 Nov 1941</date>.</p></note> of B Company, at <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>, 
recalls that Hargest's orders ‘were to hold the landing strip at 
all cost and there we were. Who was actually responsible for 
the defensive plan I cannot say but I am sure it was aimed at 
a threat from the West and South and must have assumed the 
continual stream of vehicles making for <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> were broken 
remnants rather than a coherent force merely going in to refuel.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘I have always considered that the “vehicle discipline” at 
Brigade Headquarters was shocking during the few days we 
were there. Anyone wanting anything seemed to drive into the 
middle of the area and the congestion at times round the actual 
Headquarters vehicle was a shock to anyone trained by L. W. 
Andrew,’ says Simpson. In fact, the conglomeration of Brigade 
Headquarters vehicles attracted attention, invited attack, and 
made defence most difficult. A small, uncluttered force might 
have had a chance of holding the airstrip, which was of no 
interest to the Germans.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n113" n="113"/>
        <p rend="indent">B Company (Captain Stan Johnson, with Captain Simpson 
as second-in-command), with a troop of four guns, had left 
<name key="name-004266" type="place">Menastir</name> in the darkness of the evening of 25 November to give 
protection to Brigade Headquarters. The company came into 
<name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name> from the north, and at once 11 Platoon (Colin 
Armstrong) was detached and sent to the south-eastern perimeter. With his two other platoons (12 Platoon, Lieutenant 
Barton; 10 Platoon, Sergeant Andrews) and the 25-pounder 
troop, Johnson took up a position—it was too rocky to dig in 
—just south of the airstrip. Very lights rose to the south and 
west: ‘we could hear vehicles moving very close, swarming 
around.’ Barton, with his platoon, went west along the <name key="name-000737" type="place">Capuzzo</name> 
track to get an indication of what was coming that way: Captain Hamish Simpson, with a foot patrol of half a platoon, 
moved south among vehicles in the dark trying to identify 
sizes and types, and so did Armstrong's men. All returned 
safely before dawn.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘The sight of that desert at dawn was amazing,’ says Johnson, 
‘thousands of vehicles seemed to be going in all directions, 
milling north south east and west: you could get lyrical about 
it: they seemed just like a poor mass of lost Ities. A few came 
towards us (the three guns and 10 and 12 Platoons), we let 
them come right up, these strays, and we grabbed them when 
they got out of the cab. Three came in like that, one after the 
other—Germans. Open fire? God NO! Guns quiet.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">In the afternoon of 26 November the host got under way, 
ignoring <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>, and streamed north and east towards 
<name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>. In trucks, 10 and 12 Platoons, with the three guns, 
went raiding to the west along the fringe of this mob, ‘just like 
a fox-terrier running up and down beside a herd of cattle. 
Down trails, out riflemen, a few quick shots at a few vehicles, 
then up and off fast. As we would let rip with a few rounds, 
now and then out of the mass would come a tank or two— 
there would be a dirty spit of a shell beside us (funny, they 
shelled us and didn't use their machine guns), then we'd run 
like hell.’ The handful of raiders, suffering no casualties, dug 
in in the late afternoon on the western perimeter. B Company 
patrols in the night (26-27 November, a night without flares) 
definitely found and reported tanks, ‘many tanks’, barely one 
and a half miles east of Brigade Headquarters. Their engines
<pb xml:id="n114" n="114"/>
were running. Johnson was rather surprised that he was not 
accordingly moved over to the east.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The storm broke after dawn on the 27th: ‘a beautiful day 
but things look black for us.’ The enemy had spent the night 
mostly outside <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>. An urgent request to <name key="name-000671" type="organisation">13 Corps</name> (shortly 
before it went off the air) for bombers had resulted in a lone 
<name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name> plane flying over at sundown. At 7 a.m. forty tanks, 
infantry and guns of <hi rend="i"><name key="name-000873" type="organisation">15 Panzer Division</name></hi> bore down from the 
direction of <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> on to 5 Brigade Headquarters at <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">While standing down after dawn and preparing for breakfast, the troops heard the klaxon alarm sound, and simultaneously the attack started. The line of armour halted at a 
handy distance, from which their guns and machine guns 
smashed into the vehicles. Johnson, by the brigade command 
truck, quickly got 10 Platoon from the western perimeter. 
‘The fire was really belting in but not one casualty as they 
came across, some 400 yards tightly congested with vehicles. 
The cool sergeant [Andrews], a very able platoon commander, 
lay down with his men next to me, calmly placed a grenade to 
his right, another to his left, handy, offered cigarettes and lit 
them, while spurts of sand were all about. Terrific concentrated 
fire.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Sergeant Andrews gives his impressions: ‘By this time the 
air was thick with smoke from … burning trucks (ours) and 
as the smoke lifted at intervals I could make out the outlines 
on the horizon some 300 yards away of the turrets of about 
two dozen tanks. At the sight of these the old tail went down 
properly [yet he prepared to use his grenades and wished he 
had anti-tank sticky bombs]…. Then the force of the attack 
increased and the first wave of tanks came tearing through 
about 20 yards apart. Fortunately this wave stopped firing as 
they came near and passed without inflicting any further casualties … while this was happening the second wave of tanks 
had moved up closer and were spraying our area with machine 
gun bullets…. the guns stopped when I looked up to see a 
lot of chaps between us and the tanks with their hands up and 
Brigadier Hargest surrendering to the tank commander. Well 
I was stumped….’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Over to the east in 12 Platoon Private George <name key="name-011476" type="person">Orsler</name><note xml:id="fn1-114" n="42"><p><name key="name-011476" type="person">Sgt G. W. Orsler</name>; <name key="name-021225" type="place">Gisborne</name>; born Marton, <date when="1911-03-07">7 Mar 1911</date>; motor-body builder
and painter.</p></note>
<pb xml:id="n115" n="115"/>
glimpsed tanks in a brief pause after initial severe shelling: 
‘Hurrah we thought our tanks have arrived and chased him 
off—but no they are Jerries, they are firing at our anti-tank 
guns—hell this looks grim, what shall we do now…. [His 
section-leader, ‘Snow’ <name key="name-010960" type="person">Bateman</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-115" n="43"><p><name key="name-010960" type="person">L-Sgt J. A. Bateman</name>; <name key="name-021302" type="place">Levin</name>; born Eketahuna, <date when="1912-12-19">19 Dec 1912</date>; P and T Dept
linesman; wounded <date when="1941-11-27">27 Nov 1941</date>; p.w. <date when="1942-07-15">15 Jul 1942</date>; escaped <name key="name-001383" type="place">Italy</name>, <date when="1943-09">Sep 1943</date>.</p></note> was hit by a burst of machinegun fire] while a mortar lands close in a cloud of dust and the 
section huddles behind the truck wheels in an attempt to get 
cover. Then someone spotted an abandoned MG pit, and we 
all dived in. It was an anti-tank rifle (Boyes) and one of the 
boys had a go at a tank commander who is half out of his 
turret—he misses and a double Spandau drops towards us— 
did we flatten—I'll say. Luckily he did not fire and turned off 
just before reaching us. Another Jerry tank coming from the 
other side gave us another turn but he too was not interested 
in us. Then a direct hit by an enemy mortar on a nearby 25 
pounder startled us, and we forgot momentarily about tanks. 
When we peered through the dust and smoke once more we 
saw Jerry infantry and motor cyclists rounding up our chaps 
everywhere—we exchanged thoughts hurriedly—will he shoot 
us or not—will we put our hands up like the others or lie doggo. 
We had little time to think, so reached for the skies. One chap 
near a truck filled his tunic with a few rations and dished them 
out to us to hide round our persons—we were now prisoners</p>
        <p rend="indent">“‘Von line” shouts a Jerry with a tommygun, and we obey 
quickly. In searching us a young Nazi pulls out a 36, his face 
whitens and carefully he places it on the ground a few yards 
away—we nearly laughed.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘Then we were ordered to a large group some 200 yards away 
from the scene of the battle. A grim sight it all was with burning vehicles and equipment everywhere. We were ordered to 
sit down and told that if anyone stood up he would be fired on. 
In the meantime the Jerries got busy to salvage as many 
vehicles as possible.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘By midday we were well searched and our long march to 
<name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> began….’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Fifth Brigade Headquarters, suffering about ninety casualties, was now out of the war with some 47 officers and 650 
men prisoners, counting four officers and the surviving men
<pb xml:id="n116" n="116"/>
from B Company, which had suffered two killed and about 
six wounded. Among the officers, Captains Johnson and 
Simpson, Lieutenants Armstrong and Barton, were taken to 
<name key="name-001383" type="place">Italy</name> by submarine; the men (‘We were the cause of amusement to hundreds of Ites and Jerries', after trudging under 
guard to the fortress) were herded together, and after being 
meagrely fed in <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>'s bleak compound, were liberated when 
the fortress fell early in the New Year.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Meanwhile, at <name key="name-004266" type="place">Menastir</name>, 22 Battalion listened to heavy firing 
from <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>, saw in the distance the fires and smoke, 
wondered about the fate of companions in B Company, and 
thought gloomily, ‘our turn next unless a miracle happens.’ 
A message came through: Brigade Headquarters was being 
attacked. Then silence. In vain they attempted to make contact again by radio and despatch rider. <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name> must have 
fallen, and a second despatch rider, Gunner Dobson<note xml:id="fn1-116" n="44"><p>Gnr G. R Dobson, MM; <name key="name-120035" type="place">Lower Hutt</name>; born NZ <date when="1912-01-06">6 Jan 1912</date>; truck driver;
wounded <date when="1942-10-26">26 Oct 1942</date>.</p></note>(14 
Light Anti-Aircraft Regiment) set off to check up. He approached <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>, found the smouldering camp occupied, 
and was captured when his motor-cycle was shot from under 
him; he soon escaped and was awarded the MM for his bravery 
on this excursion.</p>
        <p rend="indent"><name key="name-004266" type="place">Menastir</name> was not troubled in the morning, but a second 
attempt by the Germans to get supplies and repaired tanks 
through from <name key="name-002725" type="place">Gambut</name> was foiled by the guns. The German- 
Italian armour was recalled urgently to the <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name> front. One 
division (<hi rend="i">15 Panzer</hi>) was to return south by way of <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name> 
and Trigh <name key="name-000737" type="place">Capuzzo</name>, and <hi rend="i"><name key="name-000874" type="organisation">21 Panzer Division</name></hi>, which was severely 
mauled and without its tank regiment, was to travel by the 
coastal road. The battalion group succeeded in delaying <hi rend="i">21 
Panzer</hi>'s return for a day by forcing it to deviate south by Sidi 
Azeiz.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The first of <hi rend="i">21 Panzer</hi> appeared an hour after noon when a 
large enemy convoy made westwards along the flat below the 
escarpment. The convoy halted, opened fire, was dispersed with 
vigorous artillery and machine-gun fire, and took refuge in 
rough country north of the road. This group probably detoured 
later by way of <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n117" n="117"/>
        <p rend="indent">Half an hour later a much stronger force appeared and attempted to sweep away <name key="name-004266" type="place">Menastir</name>'s opposition. These enemy 
troops and vehicles, on the ridge about a mile north-east of 
Battalion Headquarters, launched a heavy attack with artillery, 
mortars, machine guns and rifle fire. The brunt of this attack 
was borne by artillery, medium machine guns, and the left 
forward company (C Company), some of whose men consider 
this shelling and mortaring the heaviest they ever experienced. 
Dick <name key="name-011199" type="person">Goodall</name><note xml:id="fn1-117" n="45"><p><name key="name-011199" type="person">Pte B. C. Goodall</name>; born NZ <date when="1918-11-19">19 Nov 1918</date>; shepherd; killed in action <date when="1941-11-27">27 Nov 1941</date>.</p></note> and Percy <name key="name-011270" type="person">Hunt</name><note xml:id="fn2-117" n="46"><p><name key="name-011270" type="person">Pte P. W. Hunt</name>; born NZ <date when="1917-11-24">24 Nov 1917</date>; storekeeper; killed in action 27 Nov 
<date when="1941">1941</date>.</p></note> were killed. Major Hart, 
wounded in the back of the head, refused to leave his post. 
Sergeant Viv Hill<note xml:id="fn3-117" n="47"><p>2 Lt V. D. Hill; Fernhill, Hastings; born Hastings, <date when="1911-01-10">10 Jan 1911</date>; farmer.</p></note> was knocked unconscious when a shell 
landed eighteen inches from his head and passed within a foot 
of his nose as he lay on his back in a slittie. Although the side of 
his face swelled up, turning from black and blue to a greenish-yellow, he carried on with conspicuous bravery. Another man, 
twice knocked unconscious by shells landing two feet from his 
trench, escaped with burst ear-drums. One 25-pounder received a direct hit, killing four of the crew; two other guns were 
hit shortly afterwards.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Enemy infantry, attempting to close in under cover of this 
shelling, were checked by unabated fire from the defenders. 
The Vickers and the artillery (two-pounders, four 25-pounders, 
and three Bofors), exposed though they were, played a most 
active part. The fight continued for two and a half hours, by 
which time the enemy had had enough and halted the attack. 
To the surprise and relief of 22 Battalion he withdrew (to take 
the <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name> route) and the night was fairly quiet.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Meanwhile large enemy columns were streaming out of 
<name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> and westwards through <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>. That afternoon and 
into the night the signallers worked hard trying to get in touch 
by wireless with outside units. No replies came back. The battalion, still periodically under shellfire, was isolated.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Earlier in the day—whether in the afternoon or morning is 
not quite clear—tracked vehicles could be heard creaking and 
moving about (though few men cared to raise their heads to 
see for themselves). Lieutenant Donald called out: ‘Here's your
<pb xml:id="n118" n="118"/>
chance, 14 Platoon, get out your sticky bombs, here come the 
tanks.’ No tanks came in—they were engaged by the two-pounders and one of them was disabled and its crew captured, 
the other escaping—which was just as well; for the sticky bombs 
had neither fuses nor detonators.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The inevitable threat during breakfast came again next day 
(28 November), within two miles of Battalion Headquarters. 
One hundred vehicles halted and diverted the battalion's attention by going through the motions of an attack to cover an 
enemy column moving south-westwards from <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>, and then 
withdrew. ‘Well,’ notes one soldier's diary, ‘the miracle has 
happened, Jerry has suddenly left us unmolested, he must have 
been in a terrible hurry for he left us without firing a shot. We 
are not out of danger yet as we are cut off from the outside 
world so anything may happen yet.’<note xml:id="fn1-118" n="48"><p>They were out of touch with the rest of <name key="name-018099" type="organisation">Eighth Army</name>, although the gunners
(remnants of <name key="name-010587" type="organisation">28 Battery</name>) at <name key="name-004266" type="place">Menastir</name> had been in touch by wireless with <name key="name-010586" type="organisation">27 Battery</name>
at <name key="name-000737" type="place">Capuzzo</name>, which had called up the CRA 4 Indian Division.</p></note></p>
        <p rend="indent">The battalion's situation was critical. Ammunition, water, 
and supplies were very low, not enough to see them through 
a sizeable attack, although roving carriers collected a little food 
from an old enemy camp. Everyone had been on half rations 
for two days, cigarettes and tobacco were vanishing, and Lance- 
Corporal Butler noted that the evening meal on the 28th was 
a cup of tea only. Wounded and prisoners had to be moved. 
Men were dazed or sore from concussion.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The battalion's chances of carrying out its task of preventing 
enemy movement to and from <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> now had practically 
vanished. Colonel Andrew, lacking ammunition, unable to 
fight effectively, and seeing his food vanishing, had little choice 
but to move south to contact 4 Indian Division. The decision 
to move through ‘pirate country’ was not easily reached. 
Deviations had to be made to dodge enemy columns; at any 
stage the battalion, without tanks and with few carriers, was 
liable to run into enemy convoys; and above all, the final leg of 
the course was between two enemy camps. This allowed the 
navigator only a small margin of error. If he failed, the battalion and the attached units had every chance of joining B 
Company in <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>'s prison pen.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The arrangements for the move were made by the second-
<pb xml:id="n119" n="119"/>
in-command, Major <name key="name-005329" type="person">Greville</name>.<note xml:id="fn1-119" n="49"><p><name key="name-005329" type="person">Lt-Col A. W. Greville</name>, m.i.d.; born NZ <date when="1897-08-05">5 Aug 1897</date>; Regular soldier; comd
Advanced Party <name key="name-004368" type="organisation">2 NZEF</name>, <date when="1939">1939</date>; DAQMG 1940-41; CO <name key="name-001172" type="organisation">24 Bn</name> Dec 1941-Jul 1942;
killed in action <date when="1942-07-22">22 Jul 1942</date>.</p></note> He had four hours to marshal 
more than 220 vehicles, most of them stragglers and strangers 
sent to the battalion for protection.<note xml:id="fn2-119" n="50"><p>Brigade and <name key="name-001158" type="organisation">Divisional Cavalry</name> echelons, Brigade LAD, a British general
transport company, <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name>, postal unit, <name key="name-014641" type="organisation">YMCA</name>, and AIF.</p></note> Each vehicle, under cover 
of darkness, had to be brought up a single and very steep track 
which climbed a hundred feet up the escarpment. The last truck 
groaned up the narrow track, and all of the vehicles were marshalled into position in less than three and a half hours. Transport began forming up just west of D Company from 6 p.m. 
onwards. An enemy truck appeared and was seized by a section 
of carriers; it contained seven Germans, some of them wounded, 
and two wounded British soldiers, one of whom died almost 
immediately.</p>
        <p rend="indent">At 10 p.m. all lay in the hands of fortune—and in the hands 
of the navigator, Second-Lieutenant Sam McLernon, who performed his exacting task brilliantly. The convoy was under way 
half an hour later. Cloudy conditions made navigation difficult; parts of the route were quite unknown and rough. Yet a 
good speed was kept up. Drivers picked their way to the west 
of <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>, and at one stage an enemy truck attached itself 
to the column before becoming lost again. Twice the completely blacked-out column halted during the night while 
German columns moved across its track. The convoy arrived 
safe and sound close to <name key="name-001333" type="place">Sidi Omar</name> four hours later. Dawn 
brought gunfire close by, but whether from friend or foe nobody could tell. The battalion made contact at last at 7 a.m. 
with the <name key="name-001158" type="organisation">Divisional Cavalry</name>, which handed instructions to 
Colonel Andrew, who learned that he had been appointed to 
command <name key="name-024336" type="organisation">5 Infantry Brigade</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The raiding panzers, their visit to the frontier over, were 
now delivering the <hi rend="i">coup de grâce</hi> in the <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name> sector. The bloody 
fighting at <name key="name-001334" type="place">Sidi Rezegh</name> and <name key="name-003368" type="place">Belhamed</name> ended with the remnants of 4 and 6 Brigades being driven from the approaches 
to <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name>. The Division had suffered over 4000 casualties in 
killed, wounded and prisoners. Some units sought refuge in 
<name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name>; the remainder broke through a gap in the encirclement and withdrew to the south-east. All but 5 Brigade (which
<pb xml:id="n120" n="120"/>
remained under command of 4 Indian Division) were ordered 
back to <name key="name-002877" type="place">Baggush</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">During 29 and 30 November 22 Battalion occupied positions 
east and west of <name key="name-011435" type="place">Fort Musaid</name> and reinforced 23 and 28 Battalions in the <name key="name-000737" type="place">Capuzzo</name>-<name key="name-004351" type="place">Musaid</name>-<name key="name-001351" type="place">Sollum</name> sector, which was not 
attacked. ‘Been digging all day, ground very hard and rocky 
and blisters galore but the thought of Jerry's accuracy with 
his mortars etc. makes me dig deeper.’ With Colonel Andrew 
now commanding 5 Brigade, and Captain John MacDuff acting as Brigade Major, Major Greville took over 22 Battalion.</p>
        <p rend="indent">At the end of November 5 Indian Brigade took over the 
<name key="name-000737" type="place">Capuzzo</name>-<name key="name-004351" type="place">Musaid</name>-<name key="name-001351" type="place">Sollum</name> position, freeing 5 Brigade to move 
on to <name key="name-004266" type="place">Menastir</name> on 1 December, when once again <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> was 
blockaded from the west. This time, much to the 22nd's satisfaction, a whole brigade would be waiting at <name key="name-004266" type="place">Menastir</name> to give 
a warm reception to any enemy movement to or from <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>. 
The battalion, patrolling towards <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>, stayed on the familiar 
escarpment and sited supporting weapons with great care. A 
little to the north the <name key="name-005118" type="organisation">Maori Battalion</name> dug into the flat below, 
facing towards <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name> and not far from 23 Battalion, which 
was also astride the road but facing <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Stubborn <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>, still holding out, continued to range its 
guns over the <name key="name-004266" type="place">Menastir</name> area. A party under Captain Young 
reconnoitred the outer defences of the fortress. Major Campbell led a scavenging party to an abandoned camp—spare parts 
and equipment had been lost when <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name> fell—and collected much-needed petrol, spare parts and tools for the LAD, 
and a few blankets and tents for a small ambulance unit. In 
fact, the unit now rather resembled a mob of hawkers. Clothes 
were stiff with dirt and sweat; most of them had not been 
changed for a fortnight. The afternoon of 2 December turned 
cold and wet, and little wretched groups with no shelter huddled together over inconspicuous fires, usually in benzine tins.</p>
        <p rend="indent">But things certainly warmed up next morning (3 December), 
when companies were warned to stand-to in a cold, driving 
wind. Two large columns of enemy were reported on the way 
to the relief of <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>. One column met its doom to the south 
towards <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name> at the hands of an Indian column—100 
dead and 100 prisoners.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The other column, 100 to 200 vehicles according to one
<pb xml:id="n121" n="121"/>
estimate, came carelessly down the coastal road from the direction of <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name>. The unsuspecting enemy actually drove into 
the first Maori positions on the flat before fire was opened on 
the whole of the column by all weapons within reach. Colonel 
Andrew had insisted that his brigade hold fire until the last 
possible moment, and none could play that game better than 
the Maoris. Wrecked vehicles blocked and tangled transport 
in many sections of the road, and the enemy fell into confusion 
with crippling losses, his documents telling of ‘withering fire 
from well-concealed positions on the escarpment…. the hail 
of fire.’ In cramped and fireswept positions, enemy 75-millimetre guns and mortars had great difficulty in swinging into 
action to return the fire and support advancing infantry, which 
in any case got nowhere. Under the cover of smoke some took 
to the rough country on the northern side of the road, but were 
rounded up by a few infantry and carriers. Fire from 28 Battalion (luxuriating in a field day), plus machine guns and 
heavier supporting weapons of the brigade lined along the 
escarpment, inflicted severe punishment. Twenty-second Battalion, enthusiastically giving maximum fire support, had a 
grandstand view of the rout. Care had to be taken when <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>'s 
guns reached out over the escarpment. Some of the battalion's 
vehicles on the move panicked and were hit in the ensuing 
scramble, which was brought under control by an engineer, 
Sergeant <name key="name-011383" type="person">McQueen</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-121" n="51"><p><name key="name-011383" type="person">Sgt E. J. E. McQueen</name>, DCM, m.i.d.; born <name key="name-005952" type="place">India</name>, <date when="1904-12-20">20 Dec 1904</date>; seaman;
wounded <date when="1941-11">Nov 1941</date>.</p></note> who later received the DCM. Late in 
the afternoon the enemy managed to escape under the cover of 
smoke. He left behind some killed and prisoners, estimated to 
be as many as 260 and 120 respectively. Fifth Brigade had 
ended its last days along the frontier with a dramatic coup, 
which incredibly enough cost only one man killed and nine 
wounded. Many fires burned far into the night.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Orders for a move back to the <name key="name-000737" type="place">Capuzzo</name>-<name key="name-004351" type="place">Musaid</name>-<name key="name-001351" type="place">Sollum</name> area 
gave no time to bury the dead or to salvage battlefield debris. 
These tasks were taken over by the <name key="name-001158" type="organisation">Divisional Cavalry</name> and 
South African units providing the relief. The move back to 
<name key="name-004351" type="place">Musaid</name> early on 4 December proved more deadly to 22 Battalion than the previous day's fighting. The column, after 
travelling for about half an hour, came under shellfire from
<pb xml:id="n122" n="122"/>
the guns of an Indian force between <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name> and <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name>. 
A carrier raced towards the guns to call off the shelling. The 
Indians, expecting an attack, could have been misled by the 
number of captured German and Italian vehicles in the column, 
but the general situation in any case was complicated and confusing. A sergeant records the ‘terrible lack of recognition 
signal’, and two days later he noted: ‘Just heard that 12 of 
our tanks put out of action by <name key="name-034190" type="organisation">RAF</name>. Not surprised—no co-operation.’ Wherever official news is meagre, unconvincing, or 
lacking, a host of grey rumours scurries in, attempting to fill 
the fighting man's need for information.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Fifth Brigade's guns struck back at the unrecognised Indians 
(‘We got one of their guns and a gunner. Regrettable’), and 
to make matters worse enemy artillery from <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> joined in 
the bombardment. Avoiding cannonades from friend and foe, 
the hapless battalion, zigzagging its course, finally reached 
<name key="name-004351" type="place">Musaid</name> to occupy, when further shelling died down, positions 
left by 5 Indian Brigade. On the way an Indian shell, striking 
a 22 Battalion truck, fatally wounded the driver, Jack <name key="name-011646" type="person">Towers</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-122" n="52"><p><name key="name-011646" type="person">Pte J. R. Towers</name>; born <name key="name-021386" type="place">Palmerston North</name>, <date when="1918-12-19">19 Dec 1918</date>; fabric roofer; died
of wounds <date when="1941-12-04">4 Dec 1941</date>.</p></note> 
and another man, Lance-Corporal <name key="name-011685" type="person">Wellington</name>.<note xml:id="fn2-122" n="53"><p><name key="name-011685" type="person">L-Cpl W. R. Wellington</name>; born NZ <date when="1918-08-31">31 Aug 1918</date>; car painter; died of wounds
<date when="1941-12-29">29 Dec 1941</date>.</p></note> A badly 
wounded German prisoner endured the ‘wild dash, enough to 
finish off the toughest [but when taken off the truck] he still 
clung to life and not a whimper out of him.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The battalion stayed five cold days at <name key="name-004351" type="place">Musaid</name>, writing home 
rather shaky letters, puzzling over all the recent moves ‘just 
like a game of draughts', and learning the fate of 4 and 6 Brigades. ‘I think,’ wrote one man in words which were only too 
painfully true, ‘they are split up too much and taking Jerry 
too cheaply.’ The first rum ration in the campaign arrived, a 
quarter of a cup each. Cold, cutting winds interrupted sleep, 
rain soaked blankets and equipment, and touches of ‘Wog 
guts' were common. Men got to know well a big gun, possibly 
a naval gun, which fired regularly from the direction of <name key="name-011218" type="place">Halfaya</name>. 
The Musaid-<name key="name-000737" type="place">Capuzzo</name> area is remembered for this gun (‘Hellfire Herman’) and for an old Italian plane set in the parade 
ground.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n123" n="123"/>
        <p rend="indent">Apart from occasional shelling the only brush with the enemy 
was at a well, Bir el Silqiya. Here a party under Lieutenant 
Donald lay in wait to capture a staff car and five prisoners, 
and souvenirs—binoculars, compass, cameras. On the way out 
Bill <name key="name-011370" type="person">MacKenzie</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-123" n="54"><p><name key="name-011370" type="person">Sgt W. H. MacKenzie</name>; born Havelock North, <date when="1906-01-07">7 Jan 1906</date>; farmer; killed in
action <date when="1941-12-08">8 Dec 1941</date>.</p></note> a prominent and hard-working Bren-carrier 
sergeant, was killed by mortar fire. A German prisoner, an 
officer speaking perfect English, asked Jack <name key="name-011151" type="person">Ford</name><note xml:id="fn2-123" n="55"><p><name key="name-011151" type="person">Sgt E. M. J. Ford</name>; <name key="name-021329" type="place">Masterton</name>; born <name key="name-110004" type="place">New South Wales</name>, <date when="1906-10-29">29 Oct 1906</date>; freezing
worker.</p></note> why the 
New Zealand troops were two different colours: ‘he said they 
were frightened of the Maoris as he heard they were cannibals 
and ate their prisoners.’ At Musaid a rather battered gramophone came into its own. All through the campaign Gordon 
<name key="name-011075" type="person">Couchman</name><note xml:id="fn3-123" n="56"><p><name key="name-011075" type="person">Sgt G. Couchman</name>; Waverley; born <name key="name-008123" type="place">Wanganui</name>, <date when="1918-02-27">27 Feb 1918</date>; truck driver.</p></note> had kept it and a few records wrapped carefully 
in a blanket and stowed in the back of a carrier. On occasional 
peaceful nights the gramophone would start, and heavily muffled men would drift in from the darkness. ‘She was a bit 
scratchy and a bit sandy, but she worked. Those songs were 
“Ave Maria”, “La Paloma”, “The Desert Song”, and Richard 
Tauber … singing “You are my Heart's Delight”.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Major Greville left to command 24 Battalion. Colonel 
Andrew and Captain MacDuff returned to the battalion when 
Brigadier <name key="name-004949" type="person">Wilder</name><note xml:id="fn4-123" n="57"><p><name key="name-004949" type="person">Maj-Gen A. S. Wilder</name>, DSO, MC, m.i.d., Order of the White Eagle (Serb.);
Te Hau, <name key="name-120141" type="place">Waipukurau</name>; born NZ <date when="1890-05-24">24 May 1890</date>; sheep-farmer; Wgtn Mtd Rifles,
1914-19; CO <name key="name-001173" type="organisation">25 Bn</name> May 1940-Sep 1941; comd NZ Trg Gp, <name key="name-004203" type="place">Maadi Camp</name>,
Sep-Dec 1941, Jan-Feb 1942; <name key="name-001162" type="organisation">5 Bde</name> 6 Dec 1941-17 Jan 1942; <name key="name-000971" type="organisation">5 Div</name> (in NZ) Apr
<date when="1942">1942</date>-<date when="1943-01">Jan 1943</date>; <name key="name-004747" type="organisation">1 Div</name> Jan-Nov 1943.</p></note> took over the brigade on 9 December. 
Colonel Andrew had faced and overcome many difficulties. 
Working with little rest, he had gathered about him and welded 
together an efficient brigade headquarters which received ‘perfect loyalty and assistance’. His greatest difficulty was forming 
and maintaining a supply column, and he gave special mention 
to the hardworking 17 LAD. For ‘outstanding courage, skill and 
leadership … through a very difficult 14 days', Colonel 
Andrew was awarded the DSO.</p>
        <p rend="indent">After marching (the Colonel was back again!) ten miles to 
<name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>, the infantry boarded troop-carrying lorries of 4 
RMT Company, which had come down unescorted from
<pb xml:id="n124" n="124"/>
<name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name> without meeting any enemy bands, a good omen for 
the move into the west on 9 December.</p>
        <p rend="indent">After being relieved by two South African battalions 5 Brigade, 3213 strong (22 Battalion totalling 536), in <name key="name-000671" type="organisation">13 Corps</name> reserve, was to continue the westward advance from <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name>. By 
8 December the enemy, short of supplies and greatly weakened 
by losses, had raised the seige of <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name> and was withdrawing 
to partly prepared positions at <name key="name-003648" type="place">Gazala</name>. Thirteenth Corps was 
to break this line and prevent the enemy from escaping. By 
this time British forces were getting the upper hand. The enemy 
continued to withdraw westwards from <name key="name-002747" type="place">Acroma</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Fifth Brigade's first clash with the enemy since leaving the 
frontier came on 11 December, during the move to <name key="name-002747" type="place">Acroma</name>, 
17 miles west of <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name>, a slow, cautious move because mines 
abounded. Twenty-second Battalion stayed in reserve this day 
—when Lloyd <name key="name-010945" type="person">Bailey</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-124" n="58"><p><name key="name-010945" type="person">Sgt L. G. Bailey</name>; born Balcairn, <date when="1918-05-19">19 May 1918</date>; baker; died on active service
<date when="1941-12-11">11 Dec 1941</date>.</p></note> a most promising ‘I’ sergeant, was 
killed in a motor-cycle accident. Twenty-third Battalion moved 
ahead, clearing a path along the <name key="name-011103" type="place">Derna</name>-<name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name> road, and at 
noon the Maoris got under way with a dashing attack west of 
<name key="name-002747" type="place">Acroma</name>, charging with the bayonet and capturing over 1000 
Italians at a cost of sixteen casualties.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The enemy stood in the <name key="name-003648" type="place">Gazala</name> area on 12 December, covering the withdrawal of vital supplies. His line, a series of strongpoints which ran from south-west to north-east for several miles 
at right angles to the <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name>-<name key="name-011103" type="place">Derna</name> road, proved hard to penetrate. Furthermore the <name key="name-000868" type="organisation">Luftwaffe</name>, close now to its airfield bases, 
was back in strength again. Fifth Brigade faced elements from 
four Italian divisions. Twenty-third Battalion remained near 
the coast; next to it was 28 (Maori) Battalion, then 22 Battalion, and on the left flank 5 Indian Brigade, with all the remaining armour gathered further south.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Moving up from reserve on 12 December the battalion made 
a tedious, trying, and dusty trip and crossed one area liberally 
sprinkled with thermos-flask bombs, which wounded Lieutenant Bob Knoxand his driver, ‘Slim’ Watson. ‘The carrier slewed, 
everyone ran out to them, running through thermos bombs,’ 
said Gordon Couchman. ‘I tell you we walked back mighty
<pb xml:id="n125" n="125"/>
gingerly.’ A surprise attack from the rear by four Heinkels damaged a truck. As the battalion dug in for the night, the gunfire 
ahead increased. To the south-west a British force was engaging 
a strong enemy position. The Intelligence Officer, while circling 
on reconnaissance with two carriers, accepted the surrender of 
a pocket of 150 despondent Italians and handed them over to 
the British.
<figure xml:id="WH2-22Ba125a"><graphic url="WH2-22Ba125a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22Ba125a-g"/><head><hi rend="sc">the attack on gazala, 12-16 december 1941</hi></head><figDesc>Black and white map of attack routes</figDesc></figure>
</p>
        <p rend="indent">Battle was joined on the morning of the 13th,<note xml:id="fn1-125" n="59"><p>A small yet important point: before action a <name key="name-014641" type="organisation">YMCA</name> truck found the battalion,
which had been critically short of tobacco and had ‘smoked anything that looked
like a cigarette…mighty welcome, it certainly helped the chaps.’</p></note> and in the 
course of a three-mile advance the battalion twice ran into 
enemy fire. The infantry immediately debussed, A and D Companies fixed bayonets and moved forward to the attack, while 
C acted as their reserve. Heavy fire from front and flanks pinned 
the infantry down, but D captured a post and took twenty-four
<pb xml:id="n126" n="126"/>
prisoners, equipment and weapons. The remainder of the column, hurried by heavy shelling, moved into a depression, and 
headquarters was set up at Bir el Geff. Here, with much satisfaction, the Bofors guns shot down three enemy planes.</p>
        <p rend="indent">As the attack by A and D Companies developed, an enemy 
strongpoint was detected on the right flank. This was causing 
a great deal of trouble, so C Company, under Major Hart, 
attacked at 2 p.m., theoretically supported by artillery and 
twelve I tanks, though the tanks were late and the guns seemed 
to be mainly in enemy hands. The company advanced in open 
order with two platoons forward and one back. No shots were 
fired, and 100 Italians were taken out of trenches. Then the 
tanks came up, the enemy artillery opened fire, ‘and from then 
on until the Company reached the escarpment perhaps 600 
yards further on it was one rain of shellfire, remarkable in that 
one man only was wounded. Plenty of the chaps lost skin, but 
that was as close as it came.’ The enemy equipment destroyed 
included four guns.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Indignation was widespread over two deliberate misuses of 
the white flag by the Italians. Shortly before the attack some 
carriers had gone forward. A white flag was raised, and one 
carrier approached. Suddenly the flag was lowered, and fire 
from 20-millimetre guns and machine guns raked the carriers. 
An anti-tank bullet in the forehead killed Alan <name key="name-011407" type="person">Merrick</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-126" n="60"><p><name key="name-011407" type="person">Cpl A. Merrick</name>; born <name key="name-007584" type="place">Christchurch</name>, <date when="1917-03-02">2 Mar 1917</date>; salesman; killed in action
<date when="1941-12-13">13 Dec 1941</date>.</p></note> and 
a shell smashed a carrier's engine. On the same day Lloyd 
Cross,<note xml:id="fn2-126" n="61"><p>MajL. G. S. Cross; born Dunedin, <date when="1918-11-20">20 Nov 1918</date>; Regular soldier.</p></note> setting his platoon off in the advance, hurriedly detailed Private <name key="name-011309" type="person">Kirschberg</name><note xml:id="fn3-126" n="62"><p><name key="name-011309" type="person">Cpl H. M. Kirschberg</name>; Hastings; born <name key="name-120068" type="place">Taihape</name>, <date when="1917-03-31">31 Mar 1917</date>; clerk; three 
times wounded.</p></note> and two others to bear left and pick 
up some Italians who were waving a white flag. ‘But Private 
Kirschberg never arrived there, the miserable hounds wounded 
him,’ writes Mick <name key="name-003206" type="person">Kenny</name>.<note xml:id="fn4-126" n="63"><p><name key="name-003206" type="person">Sgt H. W. Kenny</name>, m.i.d.; Tawa Flat; born Johnsonville, <date when="1917-12-29">29 Dec 1917</date>; machine
operator; wounded <date when="1944-12-15">15 Dec 1944</date>.</p></note></p>
        <p rend="indent">Enemy fire continued briskly from surrounding ridges, halting any further movement. The three companies consolidated 
as best they could, but digging in was hopeless, just a matter 
of getting down a few inches.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n127" n="127"/>
        <p rend="indent">In this attack ‘we stretcher bearers were caught on a piece 
of high open ground and as always—due we believe to the 
stretcher being taken for an anti-tank rifle—came in for some 
particular attention, and there is vivid memory of undoing 
webbing to get closer to the ground, and ages spent in moving 
the stretcher forward so that one could rest the edge of one's 
tin hat on it “hidden from view”, and painfully slow work 
edging stones onto their ends while the least movement brought 
long bursts of machine gun fire—but Oh! what security when 
a stone the size of a dinner plate was in position! The old 
“stern-sheets” never before or since have assumed to one's mind 
such major proportions, but the greatest injustice of all really 
seemed, at the time, that nature had to be so cruel as to assert 
herself and nothing could be done about it—if one wanted to 
live a little longer.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The battalion did not advance next day, 14 December. The 
<name key="name-005118" type="organisation">Maori Battalion</name>, nearby, had taken Point 181 in the night with 
almost 400 prisoners. Along the <name key="name-003648" type="place">Gazala</name> front a tank attack was 
driven back, bringing the total of enemy tanks knocked out in 
the last two days to twenty-two. In the morning Colonel 
Andrew, while on reconnaissance and checking positions, 
found his left flank dangerously open—the Buffs had been overrun by a German counter-attack. This called for greater vigilance and brought a heavy strain on to the battalion's patrols. 
Although assured protection by the armoured brigade, at no 
time could the battalion make proper contact with it. After his 
tour the CO issued a special order calling for aggressive fire at 
every opportunity: ‘just sitting passively in trenches [<hi rend="i">sic</hi>] will 
be of no assistance whatsoever to other units on our flanks.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Here, on a totally black night, Padre Thorpe set out, counting the <date when="2000">2000</date> paces and hoping to strike the forward positions 
without walking into the opposition. His faint ‘Hullo’ was heard 
and answered, and in the pitch darkness men gathered round 
an historic chalice he carried for the communion service.<note xml:id="fn1-127" n="64"><p>The little portable communion chalice, which Padre Thorpe carried in its case
in his battledress pocket, belonged to his grandfather, Archdeacon R. J. Thorpe,
who came to New Zealand in the ‘sixties from <name key="name-120007" type="place">Ireland</name>, and was a member of the
Volunteers in New Zealand. He carried it on horseback in backblock districts.
It was handed on to Padre Thorpe's father, the <name key="name-011639" type="person">Rev. F. H. Thorpe</name>, who carried
it in his saddlebags when he used to ride the 230-mile-long South Westland parish
when there were scarcely any bridges; the clergyman could and did shoe his own
horses.</p></note></p>
        <pb xml:id="n128" n="128"/>
        <p rend="indent">Although under a different command, 5 Brigade was now 
working in co-operation with a Polish brigade. Polish officers 
who, it was pointed out, ‘have a lot of debts to pay’, reported 
to 22 Battalion before taking up positions about two miles east 
of Battalion Headquarters. The Brigade Commander and the 
CO reconnoitred the Polish positions, and early next day the 
Poles prepared to attack in the north. Twenty-second Battalion's task was to give them the utmost support with artillery 
fire and other weapons, and then to advance and take over 
ground won by the Poles.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Accordingly, the battalion's attached artillery opened heavy 
fire at 3 p.m. In the meantime, however, the Poles, without 
letting the battalion know, had changed their zero hour to 
3.30 p.m. Half an hour's artillery work was wasted, and on top 
of this the Polish artillery shelled the battalion's anti-tank positions. When the attack did begin the enemy, thoroughly 
roused, replied hotly. Off to a bad start, the Poles advanced 
slowly, but at dusk, when the shelling eased up, no call had 
been made on 22 Battalion to support them. The battalion 
was not too pleased at events anyhow.</p>
        <p rend="indent">At dusk D Company, under Captain Young, was sent over 
to join the <name key="name-005118" type="organisation">Maori Battalion</name>, which had made further advances 
(yielding 180 prisoners) this day in the Point 181 area. The 
CO, seeing his battalion being whittled away and concerned 
about his open left flank, recorded his disapproval of this move. 
However, a piece of good work had been carried out by a 
platoon from C Company. Enemy guns, firing on the flat, had 
ranged on the Poles during their attack. British artillery had 
accounted for most of the gun crews, and the platoon finished 
them off and destroyed the four enemy guns.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘“Tiny” <name key="name-011520" type="person">Revell</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-128" n="65"><p><name key="name-011520" type="person">WO II B. J. Revell</name>; Hastings; born <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>, <date when="1915-06-24">24 Jun 1915</date>; civil servant.</p></note> our Quartermaster,’ recalls a D Company 
comrade, ‘had the unenvious job of bringing up our rations and 
had to walk in carrying two containers: he came in for a lot of 
unwelcome attention and repeatedly disappeared in shell bursts 
till we wondered if he would ever make it. Many times we 
thought “Tiny” had “had it” but he duly arrived, out of breath 
and strange to say fair hopping mad. He wasted no time— 
dished it out—then picking up the dixies proclaimed loudly 
in most forcible language that the So-&amp;-Sos couldn't hit the 
biggest man in the NZ Army (“Tiny” weighed at that time between 19 and 20 stone and was built in proportion)—and “I'm
<pb xml:id="n129" n="129"/>
going to <hi rend="i">walk</hi> back this time and to Hell.” He did, and apart 
from an initial burst of machine gun fire they left him alone!’</p>
        <p rend="indent">At daylight on 16 December A Company attempted to silence 
an enemy strongpoint on the left flank. The position held, and 
artillery fire was concentrated on the area. The Poles, now 
really under way, made steady progress during the day, aided 
by C Company with long-range Bren and spandau fire. When 
a report was received of a strong enemy force, about 800, forming up by the open left flank, an extra section of machine guns 
moved over, but no attack came. The concentration was broken 
up by intense gunfire. The Poles rounded off a good day's work 
by attacking Bir Naghia after dark with supporting fire from 
C Company. The post, deeply dug in and concreted, was cleared at bayonet point. Twenty-second Battalion's carrier patrols 
reported much transport movement: the enemy seemed to be 
withdrawing.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Private <name key="name-011118" type="person">Duffy</name><note xml:id="fn1-129" n="66"><p><name key="name-011118" type="person">Pte S. Duffy</name>; <name key="name-120035" type="place">Lower Hutt</name>; born <name key="name-110264" type="place">Durham</name>, England, <date when="1919-03-06">6 Mar 1919</date>; salesman;
wounded <date when="1944-04-23">23 Apr 1944</date>.</p></note> recalls an incident this evening in A Company. A barrel of cognac had been discovered, together with 
‘a German motorbike which would only just go, and Corporal 
Lloyd <name key="name-016358" type="person">Williams</name><note xml:id="fn2-129" n="67"><p><name key="name-016358" type="person">L-Sgt L. Williams</name>; <name key="name-120035" type="place">Lower Hutt</name>; born <name key="name-120608" type="place">Greymouth</name>, <date when="1917-11-22">22 Nov 1917</date>; clerk;
wounded <date when="1942-10-24">24 Oct 1942</date>.</p></note> and Alan <name key="name-011437" type="person">Mutton</name><note xml:id="fn3-129" n="68"><p><name key="name-011437" type="person">L-Sgt A. B. Mutton</name>; <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>; born <name key="name-008963" type="place">Australia</name>, <date when="1913-11-08">8 Nov 1913</date>; duco-sprayer; 
wounded <date when="1942-06">Jun 1942</date>.</p></note> were doubling on this bike, 
Alan driving, Lloyd on the back. Well Lloyd had a pocketful 
of Italian grenades and would drop one behind him every now 
and again. Of course Alan didn't know this, he thought he was 
being shelled or something. It was quite a while before he woke 
up to it. We had a great view of it from a nearby rise.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The 17th brought warm, bright sunshine—and a great peace. 
D Company came back from the <name key="name-005118" type="organisation">Maori Battalion</name>, which had 
moved forward the day before to cover any advance from the 
gathering enemy force, 800-strong. The Maoris and D Company, after long and weary plodding, ran into fire and were 
shelled again as the force withdrew following our bombardment. 
The Maoris suffered fifty-eight casualties. D Company had two 
men killed and ten wounded, including one man wounded in the 
lobe of an ear: ‘We tried to keep the chap with the hole in the 
ear as a showpiece but the darn thing healed up quickly, so no 
free beer for that back in Taranaki!’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The second Libyan campaign was over for 5 Brigade which,
<pb xml:id="n130" n="130"/>
in the words of the commander of <name key="name-000671" type="organisation">13 Corps</name>, ‘has enhanced the 
remarkable reputation enjoyed by the New Zealand forces.’ 
The enemy had withdrawn in the night, and the New Zealanders took no further part in the pursuit into the west. The 
battalion had suffered seventy-seven casualties, including 
twenty-three dead, forty-four wounded, and ten prisoners of 
war (of whom one was wounded). In the Division (4594 casualties) one officer in every three and almost one man in every 
four had become a casualty during those bloody three weeks. 
Of the many prisoners taken by 5 Brigade, the Italians outnumbered the Germans by 100 to one.</p>
        <p rend="indent">So back to <name key="name-002877" type="place">Baggush</name> where the Division waited, back over 
the dusty old trails the ancients and the caravans had used, to a 
cold Christmas Eve at <name key="name-002749" type="place">El Adem</name> and a short service to mark 
Christmas Day—‘a bleak, windy morning, it seems sarcastic 
to say “Happy Xmas”. There is a smell and taste of petrol in 
my cup of tea and it needs a lot of sweetened tinned milk to 
kill it.’ ‘Someone attempted to improve (?) the bully beef by 
boiling it with sauerkraut and nearly poisoned the lot of us.’ 
Then back to <name key="name-004714" type="place">Sidi Azeiz</name>, where men wondered about B Company comrades, and into Egypt again, to a smothering dust-storm: ‘Our faces were unrecognisable, powdered all over [with 
dust] … the awful wind….’ Down to the railhead, and 
so by train to <name key="name-002877" type="place">Baggush</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">But they took the lid off the place on New Year's Eve. The 
Division, decimated but together again, showered the night sky 
with German flares, exploded Italian grenades, even fired 
several 25-pounders out to sea, alarming nearby English units 
which stood-to to repel a seaborne invasion. As midnight came 
in over the little oasis ‘the boys pulled down the colonel's tent 
and demanded a speech, but Colonel Andrew, taking this in 
good part, would not address the gathering until he was 
properly dressed,’ writes Doug <name key="name-011172" type="person">George</name>.<note xml:id="fn1-130" n="69"><p><name key="name-011172" type="person">L-Cpl D. L. George</name>; <name key="name-021363" type="place">New Plymouth</name>; born NZ <date when="1917-05-05">5 May 1917</date>; cycle mechanic;
wounded <date when="1941-04-20">20 Apr 1941</date>; p.w. <date when="1942-07-15">15 Jul 1942</date>; escaped <name key="name-001383" type="place">Italy</name>, <date when="1943-09">Sep 1943</date>.</p></note> ‘He then fired several 
Verey flares in spontaneous reaction (and so did Captain John 
MacDuff, setting fire to a bivvy), and regarding his collapsed 
tent said: “I will crawl into the b— thing as it is.” But they 
held him in such estimation that they decided to re-erect the 
tent for him.’</p>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="n131" n="131"/>
      <div xml:id="c4" type="chapter">
        <head>CHAPTER 4<lb/>
Into <date when="1942">1942</date> and <name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name></head>
        <p>‘<hi rend="sc">Christmas</hi> made everyone forget for a while the prior miseries of two cigarettes per day, stony ground to sleep on, a 
few bits of salvaged canvas, with iron or old doors to keep out the 
weather. The latrines were crude, so was the cookhouse. Men 
were seen following their mates to pick up cast away cigarette 
butts. Hunger drove many to behave like pigs at mealtimes— 
pushing one another about to scrape out empty dixies, etc. 
Everyone lost weight with dysentry, and medical treatment 
was poor….</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘… by 4 o'clock on 4 January, everything of importance 
was set on fire or blown up by the enemy, and by daybreak 
we were told that Jerry had surrendered, and our column would 
be in, in an hour or so—cheers by all. About 9 o'clock the first 
armoured vehicles arrived—our own Div. Cav. What a welcome, what food they gave us, and once more we were free.’— 
George Orsler, of B Company, liberated when <name key="name-000620" type="place">Bardia</name> fell to 
the South Africans.</p>
        <p rend="indent">From the <name key="name-024430" type="place">Western Desert</name> the battalion went back to the 
<name key="name-001365" type="place">Suez Canal</name> area again, to tents at <name key="name-001940" type="place">Kabrit</name>, where 200 reinforcements arrived. At a railway station on the way down Mick 
Kenny had a small tin left over from the rations. He told Arab 
beggars to hold out their hands, and leaning out of the carriage 
window, gave them all an equal share—of golden syrup. ‘The 
way the [angry] Wogs moved their hands reminded us of accordion players.’ Elsewhere, in another part of the battalion, 
a man produced a precious tin of coffee and milk ‘and about 
17 of us brewed up and drank it out of rusty tins. The thing 
that impressed me was that the owner had not the slightest 
thought of drinking it himself, he shared it automatically, we 
were soldiers now.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">At <name key="name-001940" type="place">Kabrit</name> they practised for seaborne invasion again, and 
once again the plan (or ‘boy scout exercises’, as a good many
<pb xml:id="n132" n="132"/>
New Zealanders considered them) was abandoned, much to 
the relief of 5 Brigade's new commander, <name key="name-208411" type="person">Brigadier Kippenberger</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-132" n="1"><p><name key="name-208411" type="person">Maj-Gen Sir Howard Kippenberger</name>, KBE, CB, DSO and bar, ED, m.i.d.,
Legion of Merit (US); born Ladbrooks, <date when="1897-01-28">28 Jan 1897</date>; barrister and solicitor;
i NZEF 1916-17; CO <name key="name-001168" type="organisation">20 Bn</name> Sep 1939-Apr 1941, Jun-Dec 1941; comd 10 Bde
(<name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name>) <date when="1941-05">May 1941</date>; <name key="name-001162" type="organisation">5 Bde</name> Jan 1942-Jun 1943, Nov 1943-Feb 1944; GOC 2 NZ
Div 30 Apr-14 May 1943 and 9 Feb-2 Mar 1944; 2 NZEF Prisoner-of-War Reception Group in <name key="name-005787" type="place">UK</name> 1944-45; twice wounded; Editor-in-Chief, NZ War Histories,
1946-57; died <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>, <date when="1957-05-05">5 May 1957</date>.</p></note> who gives this opinion of the battalion at the time: ‘22 
Battalion had a good record, though it was unhappy at having 
lost its <name key="name-004213" type="place">Maleme</name> position in <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name>—after very heavy casualties— 
and it had a grouch that it had not been fairly treated in decorations. Les Andrew, unfortunately, was going; but I had my 
choice of John Russell or another good officer to succeed him, 
chose John, and had no worries thenceforward.’<note xml:id="fn2-132" n="2"><p><hi rend="i"><name key="name-206605" type="work">Infantry Brigadier</name></hi> (<name key="name-200382" type="organisation">Oxford University Press</name>), p. 113.</p></note></p>
        <p rend="indent">For some time now the battalion had known it would be 
losing ‘February’. Before the Libyan campaign some men had 
called at his tent to see him about a rumour. It was true all 
right, said the Colonel, and he was leading the battalion through 
just one more show. His last show was over now. The battalion's 
war diary reads for 3 February: ‘This was a sorry day for the 
22 Bn for it paraded to say farewell to its original and much respected CO., Lt. Col. L. W. Andrew, who is shortly leaving on 
his return to N.Z. Lt. Col. Andrew inspected the whole Bn 
from 0845-1000 after which he said a few words of farewell and 
asked the troops to live up to the traditions of the Bn whether 
on leave, in base or in action. After wishing his men the best 
of luck, Lt. Col. Andrew took the salute whilst the Bn marched 
past. At lunch-time, he dined with the sergeants and spoke 
some encouraging words to them.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘Not one man on the parade felt anything but regret now 
that the time had come to say goodbye to a man whom they 
had always admired, loved and respected, despite the “February” and the 28 days,’ wrote Tom De Lisle.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The Colonel left, but his influence went on to <name key="name-001410" type="place">Trieste</name>, where 
his outlook and memories of his veterans were recalled in a 
poem attempting to humble some irresponsible horseplay by 
newcomers to the battalion. When speaking about this man 
in years to come, some would say he, with his discipline, was 
an anachronism—a 1914-18 hangover. Others, probably the
<pb xml:id="n133" n="133"/>
majority of men who had served under him in the lean, hard 
years, would say with affection: ‘There was never another like 
Old February, or Old Wirewhiskers', and at reunions even 
notoriously meek men would be found hopefully claiming as 
a mark of distinction to have served ‘28 days under Old Feb 
ruary’.<note xml:id="fn1-133" n="3"><p>The total number of men who served 28 days' detention in 22 Battalion's first
year, although clearly a <name key="name-004368" type="organisation">2 NZEF</name> record, cannot be given because the Part II
Orders are missing from the unit records for most of <date when="1940">1940</date>.</p></note></p>
        <p rend="indent">The battalion's new commander, from <name key="name-001158" type="organisation">Divisional Cavalry</name>, 
was the son of Sir Andrew Russell, who had commanded the 
New Zealand Division in <name key="name-008009" type="place">France</name>. John Russell took over the battalion in time for combined operations: a move down the <name key="name-006674" type="place">Suez</name> 
Canal and, after a night off Port Tewfik, a brief mock assault 
off <name key="name-120044" type="place">Ras</name> el Sudr, a small promontory in the <name key="name-001311" type="place">Red Sea</name>. A Company stayed at home; B and C boarded the familiar HMS 
<hi rend="i"><name key="name-207116" type="ship">Glengyle</name></hi>, and D packed into HMS <hi rend="i">Princess Marguerite</hi>. The men 
came back from their invasion practice to learn to their disgust 
that they were booked for <name key="name-001027" type="place">Libya</name> again—Rommel was moving 
out from <name key="name-002754" type="place">El Agheila</name> towards <name key="name-003648" type="place">Gazala</name>—so back to <name key="name-001027" type="place">Libya</name> and 
to <name key="name-002749" type="place">El Adem</name>, near <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name>, went 5 Brigade, which this time 
crossed the frontier in farcical fashion. The convoy had halted 
for tea within a couple of miles of the wire. The column began 
moving over the remaining two miles into <name key="name-001027" type="place">Libya</name> as night came 
in, but something slipped up, a bemused driver brought his 
truck round to the rear of the convoy, and other trucks following other tail-lights deftly turned the convoy into a great circle. 
The circular convoy, a little dizzy, did not make <name key="name-001027" type="place">Libya</name> until 
midnight.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The brigade resignedly dug in on the escarpment south of 
<name key="name-002749" type="place">El Adem</name> to protect the aerodrome and Trigh <name key="name-000737" type="place">Capuzzo</name> if the 
enemy broke the <name key="name-003648" type="place">Gazala</name> line. The front ahead remained quiet; 
no raiders appeared. Untroubled, the brigade built its second 
‘box’. Blasting, digging, wiring, minelaying (13,000 mines taken 
with full authority from <name key="name-001400" type="place">Tobruk</name>'s defences), salvaging and 
camouflaging, interrupted by an air raid or two, continued 
until March, when after a heavy flood and a sandstorm the 
brigade thankfully made its way back to <name key="name-004262" type="place">Maadi</name>.</p>
        <p rend="indent">A pleasant surprise awaited in <name key="name-003601" type="place">Cairo</name>, at the New Zealand 
Club, where ‘the staff was now NZ girls running the Club.
<pb xml:id="n134" n="134"/>
What a difference they made, it was like a touch of home again,’ 
wrote Dick <name key="name-011015" type="person">Bunny</name>.<note xml:id="fn1-134" n="4"><p><name key="name-011015" type="person">Pte R. A. Bunny</name>; <name key="name-021329" type="place">Masterton</name>; born <name key="name-021329" type="place">Masterton</name>, <date when="1907-09-20">20 Sep 1907</date>; labourer; p.w.
<date when="1942-07-15">15 Jul 1942</date>.</p></note> ‘They were all so pleasant and everything 
was clean and a strong contrast to my previous visits when the 
Wogs held sway.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">At a brigade parade <name key="name-207994" type="person">General Freyberg</name>, presenting awards 
won in <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name>, <name key="name-003325" type="place">Crete</name> and <name key="name-001027" type="place">Libya</name>, decorated these four 22 Battalion men: Colonel Russell, DSO (won while with the Divisional Cavalry), Major Campbell, MC, Captain Donald, MC, 
and <name key="name-010962" type="person">Sergeant Bob Bayliss</name>, MM. Soon afterwards, early in 
April, the battalion set off for <name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name> to join the rest of the 
Division.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The night before the battalion left <name key="name-004262" type="place">Maadi</name> a party returning 
from the pictures saw to their joy near the Pall Mall theatre 
the door of another battalion's cookhouse swinging wide open 
—too good to be true—a trap, perhaps? So one member, pre– 
tending to be drunk, reeled towards the open door calling 
blearily for ‘Jack’. Nobody lurked inside. Doubling up, the rest 
of the party carried away cases of tinned peaches (a desert 
luxury), several sacks of sugar, flour, and quantities of tea. The 
loot was distributed far and wide. Next day, as the party pulled 
out for the green pastures of <name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name>, men looked back innocently 
on the turmoil in this unit's area: redcaps darting here and 
there, copious interrogations and note-taking, startled and 
angry groups denying and protesting.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Most of the men (600 of them with four tons of baggage) 
left by train. They took with them a new padre, Rev. T. E. 
<name key="name-011050" type="person">Champion</name>,<note xml:id="fn2-134" n="5"><p><name key="name-011050" type="person">Rev. T. E. Champion</name>; Petersham, <name key="name-110004" type="place">New South Wales</name>; born Auburn, New South
Wales, <date when="1908-03-23">23 Mar 1908</date>; Anglican minister.</p></note> after saying goodbye to Padre Thorpe (troubled 
with failing health), whose ‘fearless and untiring efforts for the 
comfort and assistance of the troops’ were noted appreciatively 
in the war diary.</p>
        <p rend="indent">While a few drove north in lorries, most of the battalion 
travelled in carriages from <name key="name-004262" type="place">Maadi</name>, not too comfortably either, 
some getting down under the seats and sleeping on the floor 
while others stretched out in the luggage racks. They crossed 
the Canal at <name key="name-015935" type="place">Kantara</name> by ferry, entrained, stretched out in box 
wagons, passed through more uninteresting desert, which at 
last gave way to poor grazing land, tufts of grass here and there,
<figure xml:id="WH2-22BaP021a"><graphic url="WH2-22BaP021a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22BaP021a-g"/><figDesc>Coloured map of Mediterranean Sea</figDesc></figure>
<pb xml:id="n135" n="135"/>
and a wandering Arab herdsman with a few sheep and goats. 
Slowly the land improved: little houses of sun-dried bricks were 
set in fields divided by prickly-pear hedges. Then the train 
clattered into the fertile coastal plain of southern Palestine,
<figure xml:id="WH2-22Ba135a"><graphic url="WH2-22Ba135a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="WH2-22Ba135a-g"/><head><hi rend="sc">eastern mediterranean</hi></head><figDesc>Black and white map of Eastern Mediterranean Sea</figDesc></figure>
past field after field of ripening oats, and citrus orchards bordered by tall cypresses. ‘What a relief all this was after the desert: 
the greener the country became, the higher the boys' spirits 
rose, we were just like a mob of school kids. We could easily 
imagine the feelings of the Israelites when after wandering 40
<pb xml:id="n136" n="136"/>
years in the desert they discovered this valley.’ In fact, this trip 
north to <name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name> was stored away fondly into hundreds of memories, to nourish many a soldier in the accursed summer at 
<name key="name-010927" type="place">Alamein</name>, and also in the dead days of prisoner-of-war camps 
so soon to envelop many a man now free.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Gaza railway station, the first stop in Palestine, swarmed 
with young Arabs carrying every imaginable container (buckets, baskets, kerosene tins, big jam tins and even chamber pots) 
piled with oranges to be exchanged for bully or cheese. Here 
New Zealanders probably ate the largest amount of fruit in 
the shortest time in their lives. Soon the floor of every truck 
was covered with oranges and grapefruit, ‘absolutely delicious, 
so juicy and so full of flavour. As soon as they had sold all they 
carried, they rushed off to the side of the station and got another load and as soon as they got to the train they were empty 
again. This must have gone on for over half an hour, and we 
were eating them all the time and throwing the skins outside 
till when we moved off the ground around the station was red 
with skins. My only regret was that I couldn't have sent some 
home to you.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">A day and a night passed at a transit camp near <name key="name-015859" type="place">Haifa</name>, a 
small port with oil refineries on the flat and suburbs of stone 
buildings sprinkled on surrounding hills. Some 22 Battalion 
men, without money, lazed and read or slept under the olive 
trees. Others went to town and found it rather ‘stereotyped, 
not much evidence of individuality’; the native quarter was 
much cleaner and healthier, with not so much bleating for 
<hi rend="i">baksheesh</hi>; on the sides of the streets lay huge piles of oranges, 
and ‘the girls especially the Jewesses were very attractive and 
would at least look at us and that is more than the white female 
pop. of <name key="name-003601" type="place">Cairo</name> did.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">As the battalion travelled on up the coast the <name key="name-015967" type="place">Lebanon</name> hills 
gradually grew nearer. Fields were being cultivated or were 
covered with fruit trees and bordered with cypresses and gum-trees. ‘I'll never forget the sound of wind in those bluegums.’ 
In one field an Arab toiled with wooden plough and an ox or 
donkey; in the next a Jew on a tractor hauled a double-furrow 
plough, perhaps helped by Jewish girls dressed in shirts tucked 
into baggy bloomers. Everywhere spring flowers appeared, 
‘purple and white daisies, red poppies and yellow buttercups all
<pb xml:id="n137" n="137"/>
mixed together. In the garden of some peasant I saw the most 
wonderful roses I have ever seen. The biggest blooms possible 
and every colour of the rainbow. Just past this are the remains 
of an old aquaduct built by the Romans and nearly obscured by 
vegetation.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">John <name key="name-011066" type="person">Collins</name><note xml:id="fn1-137" n="6"><p><name key="name-011066" type="person">L-Cpl H. J. Collins</name>; Winchester, South Canterbury; born <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>, <date when="1919-11-04">4 Nov 1919</date>; school-teacher; wounded <date when="1945-04-19">19 Apr 1945</date>.</p></note> saw and was amused at ‘an Arab dressed up 
to kill riding a pushbike and he passed another Arab on a 
camel and gave him a look as much as to say “Why don't you 
travel in a civilised way?”’ Yet occasionally an old village 
would be passed, unchanged over the centuries, where the 
women carried water jars on their heads and did all the work 
while the men sat in the sun and gossiped. ‘That appeals to 
me, I think it should be introduced into NZ after the war.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Later, while on leave in Palestine, Collins, like many New 
Zealanders, was deeply impressed with the farming, financial 
and social aspects of community life in the new Jewish settlements, the remarkable achievements of voluntary labour, the 
efforts to improve cultural backgrounds, and especially the 
community care and upbringing of children, which freed 
mothers from much drudgery and developed self-reliance and 
initiative in the children. In the midst of world warfare many 
New Zealanders thought deeply about this simultaneous welding together of Jews from many races—Americans, Poles, 
Russians, Germans, French and <name key="name-022835" type="organisation">Palestinians</name>. There is on record 
at least one 22 Battalion man, a Gentile, who thoroughly enjoyed himself, ‘away from anything to do with the Army’, by 
working in a Jewish community settlement while on leave.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Where Palestine ended, the hills, covered in scrub and spring 
flowers, came right down to the coast. Buses took the battalion 
across the frontier into <name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name>, which was less highly cultivated 
and rockier; the hillsides were terraced or patched with olive 
groves, with here and there old ruins and Crusaders' castles. 
Then the orchards and vineyards increased again, with wayside cafés selling fruit, wines, and liqueurs at ridiculously low 
prices. ‘The trousers the Lebanese wear are something like 
riding pants, but the seat is all baggy and reaches nearly down 
to the knees. They certainly would be comfortable but a bit 
draughty in the winter.’</p>
        <pb xml:id="n138" n="138"/>
        <p rend="indent">The travellers paused briefly in a transit camp by <name key="name-000629" type="place">Beirut</name>, 
where pay, changed into Syrian pounds (about eight to £ 1 
sterling) gave sadly brief sensations of wealth. The last leg of 
the five-day journey began with the switch to the mountain 
railway and the unforgettable climb of 5000 feet in three stages 
over the Lebanon Mountains, almost to the snowline. Villages 
and towns with grey walls and red-tiled roofs, well known to 
wealthy tourists, were passed. The curious little train toddled 
along at about 20 miles an hour, sometimes pausing gratefully 
while wood was cut for the boiler. Many sat on the roofs of 
their ‘dog boxes’ or cooked meals on primuses inside. The train 
reached the top about noon and slowly began spiralling down 
to the green and beautiful <name key="name-120084" type="place">Bekaa</name> valley.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘That rail trip was the highlight of the trip to <name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name>,’ wrote 
Lieutenant O'Reilly, ‘the wild flowers growing in profusion beside the track, the mountainside on its lower slopes liberally 
covered with trees, the steep little valleys, terraces built in almost impossible places to conserve a few square yards of soil, 
the mulberry trees and vines and orchards, those attractive 
looking villages with their square houses of clean stone, the 
holiday resorts of <name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name>, the snake-like twistings of the railway 
up the mountainside, the magnificent view as one looked back 
down towards <name key="name-000629" type="place">Beirut</name> in the blue setting of the <name key="name-007453" type="place">Mediterranean</name>.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">In a siding at <name key="name-016175" type="place">Rayak</name> box wagons waited, a good sight until 
soldiers saw only too plainly that the previous passengers had 
been cattle. The trucks, not washed properly, were a disgusting sight and smell. The medical officer (Captain Volckman) 
insisted on clean trucks; some arrived, and the trip went on, 
through country that changed to poorer, stonier soil, with far 
fewer crops and stunted fruit trees, but mostly herds of sheep 
and goats. The fact that sheep in <name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name> followed the shepherd, 
and were not driven as they are in New Zealand, intrigued 
everyone. The people, mostly Kurds, lived in curious mud huts 
shaped like beehives. Workers along the railway lines gladly 
accepted army biscuits tossed out by the travellers. Lorries 
waiting at a small station soon took the battalion to its destination, <name key="name-013373" type="place">Afrine</name> camp, north-west of <name key="name-002780" type="place">Aleppo</name>, early in the afternoon of 14 April. A and D Companies and some Headquarters 
Company men promptly went off to the forward posts to relieve 24 Battalion.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n139" n="139"/>
        <p rend="indent">The Division, resting, building defences, and acting as occupying troops, was to guard and improve the defences of this 
north-west corner of <name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name>, through which ran the main road 
and railway, northwards from <name key="name-002780" type="place">Aleppo</name> into <name key="name-008587" type="place">Turkey</name>. If the 
Germans invaded <name key="name-008587" type="place">Turkey</name>, 22 Battalion, perched up on the 
frontier (and now briskly exchanging rice for eggs), would have 
a grandstand seat.</p>
        <p rend="indent"><name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name> had endured more than her share of invasions. After 
the First World War the country, wrested from the Turks, had 
been handed over to the French as a mandate. Now British, 
Australians, and New Zealanders had joined the French in 
<name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name>, and the Syrian himself was experiencing rather a lean 
time. Groups of natives, patient, silent and dignified, clustered 
at unit cookhouses, waiting for scraps. The Army took over 
distributing flour in <name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name>, and the New Zealanders were responsible for doing so in their areas. The shortages and semi-famine in some places were due, not to the French administrators, but to Syrian merchants cornering the market. Occasionally bands and parades marched to and fro to impress 
the Syrians, and certain establishments were ‘closed on religious days as a gesture of respect and goodwill.’ ‘The Syrians,’ 
wrote one 22 Battalion man, ‘conduct themselves with a dignity, 
reserve and courtesy which are in marked contrast to the 
servility of the Arabs in Egypt. Not once since arrival have I 
been asked for baksheesh or its Kurdish equivalent.’ The New 
Zealanders soon learned that the French were not liked ‘because they treat us Syrians as though we are Algerians.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Battalion Headquarters was just outside <name key="name-013373" type="place">Afrine</name>, and the 
camp looked down into the pleasing valley of the Afrine River. 
The mountains, the river, the creeks (actual waterfalls ‘that 
we could stand under stripped off’), the grass and the growing 
crops all around seemed miraculous after the desert—‘too good 
to be true, the Army is cooking something up for us I'll bet.’ 
Wildflowers were abundant, especially red dwarf anemones, 
and as John Russell summed up, ‘the longer they leave us here 
the happier we shall be.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Nevertheless a curious little incident had happened on the 
way up. The carriers, which travelled under their own power 
part of the way, had stopped at dusk by one of the most beautiful little settlements their crews had ever seen. The local café
<pb xml:id="n140" n="140"/>
was in keeping with the surroundings: a stream ran past tables 
where drinks were served, and here the men sat at peace and 
marvelled, ‘until we got too much in, someone was sick into 
the creek, then another fell in. When we came out of that place 
everything had changed, we were just drunken soldiers again, 
yelling our heads off.’ The settlement so unexpectedly—like 
certain other places met during the war—had revealed only 
too clearly the loneliness of a soldier's life. Despite all the 
violence and the movement of troops the settled life of the 
world went on just the same, ‘and we were only soldiers drifting by’, not the main act, but just a sideshow.</p>
        <p rend="indent"><name key="name-013373" type="place">Afrine</name> camp was well spaced, with fairly comfortable iron 
huts containing stoves, which meant the luxury of morning and 
afternoon tea regularly. One night a sudden storm swept down 
the valley, and men half asleep in their beds lay listening to 
an unfamiliar, yet typically New Zealand noise: rain on a corrugated iron roof. <name key="name-013373" type="place">Afrine</name> village, 34 miles from <name key="name-002780" type="place">Aleppo</name>, was 
the administrative centre for about 350 settlements spread over 
mountainous country along the Turkish border. Troops worked 
in with the French <hi rend="i">gendarmerie</hi> and the <hi rend="i">Garde Mobile</hi>—and 
sometimes borrowed their horses for brief and exhilarating 
gallops.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Roads and tracks led out from <name key="name-013373" type="place">Afrine</name> to frontier posts along 
the rough hillsides and down in the valleys. Here the battalion 
held strategic positions.<note xml:id="fn1-140" n="7"><p>Two companies and a few detachments occupied each sector and changed round
once a fortnight. They were in two sectors:
Northern Sector: Meidane Ekbes (where the railway crosses into <name key="name-008587" type="place">Turkey</name>), North
Tunnel, the Fort (guarding the railway viaduct and the south tunnel), the Saddle
(a height over the Kara Sou valley, neatly divided by the frontier) and <name key="name-013513" type="place">Radjou</name>
(forward area HQ) on the southern side of the Saddle.
Southern sector: To the south-west, <name key="name-015751" type="place">El Hammam</name> (viewing the border and 
<name type="place">Lake Antioch</name>), Katma (8 miles north-east along the road to <name key="name-002780" type="place">Aleppo</name>, by a railway
tunnel). Towards the end of April more detachments occupied posts at two main
railway bridges in the <name key="name-013373" type="place">Afrine</name>-<name key="name-013513" type="place">Radjou</name> area.</p></note> Sentries and patrols watched bridges, 
railway lines, roads and tracks. ‘Guard duty on the Turkish 
border: 2-hours duty at night and an hour by day and free for 
the rest of the day…. a great job,’ wrote Private Price, of 
C Company. ‘To hold up all lorries, cars and so on, examine 
visas, and write down all particulars in a little black book.’ 
Hidden demolitions and road blocks were planned to smash 
communications should invasion threaten from the north. Yet 
further back engineers, supervising great labour gangs of Syrian
<pb xml:id="n141" n="141"/>
men and women (‘babies on their backs and carrying stones 
on their heads’), hustled about building, improving and making 
roads and bridges—which would make it all the easier for an 
invader once he was safely past the frontier.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Probably the pick of all jobs in <name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name>—excepting, of course, 
the running of a company canteen—was guard duty at the 
station of Meidane Ekbes, the last stop of the famous Taurus 
Express before it passed into <name key="name-008587" type="place">Turkey</name>, a ‘cushy’ job indeed ‘until 
Jack Sullivan arrived with a fund of PT exercises to shake us 
along a bit. The train used to burst forth (about a mile away) 
from the tunnel in a cloud of smoke, then come whistling down 
the grade for all the world like a Hornby model in a stagelike 
background.’ Many a section here ‘acquired’ foreign currency 
and goods which were either prohibited in <name key="name-008587" type="place">Turkey</name>—or which 
the troops stoutly maintained <hi rend="i">should be</hi> prohibited in <name key="name-008587" type="place">Turkey</name>. 
One over-zealous searcher was still on board when the express 
crossed the frontier; he was ‘lost’ for some time. But the New 
Zealanders were not the only collectors, for Doug George reports how ‘two of us were talking to our officer on the station 
platform one sunny day. Suddenly, past us swaggered a local 
villager. He was clad in an Army shirt plus two pips on each 
shoulder, issue “Bombays” rolled up, and a pair of “Star” football socks—a leading New Plymouth Rugby club—capped off 
with a pair of sandshoes. We pretended not to notice him of 
course for reasons which should be obvious to anybody!</p>
        <p rend="indent">Here a platoon would line the rails to prevent passengers 
leaping away while a British intelligence sergeant went through 
the train. The search never seemed to last more than half an 
hour. This imperturbable sergeant, who had lived most of his 
life in <name key="name-008587" type="place">Turkey</name> and other Eastern countries, spoke about four 
or five languages and confidently went about his job of screening the travelling public. His name may have been Baker; he had 
escorted American tourists on trips before the war. Geoffrey 
<name key="name-011396" type="person">Mather</name><note xml:id="fn1-141" n="8"><p><name key="name-011396" type="person">Maj G. L. Mather</name>; born England, <date when="1906-02-04">4 Feb 1906</date>; school-teacher.</p></note> ‘marvelled at the speed with which he sized up the 
motley group of passengers, the rapid interrogation, and the 
hauling out of the train for further questioning those who had 
given themselves away or looked suspicious. Bearing in mind 
his high linguistic qualifications, his valuable local knowledge, 
and his soldierly bearing, I thought how well <name key="name-005976" type="place">Britain</name> has been
<pb xml:id="n142" n="142"/>
served overseas by her soldiers and others—many of them junior 
rank like this sergeant whose work must have had a high security value.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Up at the Fort they used a small donkey for bringing up the 
stores from the road below, and for carrying the Padre's kit 
from place to place. The Padre remembers ‘not uncommon’ 
cries, as he lead the donkey along, of ‘Dad is the one with the 
hat on’.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Apart from that in the odd shop and café, there was very 
little fraternisation between members of the battalion and the 
local inhabitants in <name key="name-013373" type="place">Afrine</name>. A detachment of the <name key="name-004859" type="place">Transjordan</name> 
Frontier Force based between <name key="name-002780" type="place">Aleppo</name> and <name key="name-013373" type="place">Afrine</name> sent patrols 
up to the Turkish border and also kept an eye on the Kurds 
who, having been exploited by landlords for generations, had 
taken to brigandry. This detachment invited the battalion's 
sergeants to its mess on hospitable and lively occasions (a prominent warrant officer had to spend a few days in hospital). Some 
men, invited to nearby villages, were embarrassed, first by the 
strange-tasting and highly seasoned food (the eye of an animal 
was considered a delicacy), next when no knives or forks appeared, and last at the pained looks when every scrap of food 
was not eaten. Captain Young recalls ‘a most sumptuous repast with the headman “Mukta” of the village in the loft— 
above the goat house’. Officers had been asked to spread friendships, and at Radjou Mather diplomatically notes how he ‘entertained local chiefs or whatever they were called at my HQ, and 
was in turn the recipient of excellent hospitality, dispensed with 
Eastern charm and generosity.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Closer understanding was not confined to Syrian relationships. ‘Russell Young was, I think, a territorial officer, and took 
some time to find the level of the boys, so much so that at The 
Tunnel he called the chaps together and asked them if anyone 
would oblige by letting him know some of his faults—he would 
be available in his digs. The beer ration was right, and some 
went in and had a fair dinkum pow-wow with him. It was not 
long after this that he not only knew every man in the company 
but his Christian name as well—it is safe to assume that later 
on the boys would have followed him clean to Hell if he wanted 
them to, and he earned the name of “Brigham Young”.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Easily the busiest men in <name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name> were the medical men. The
<pb xml:id="n143" n="143"/>
regimental aid posts gladly offered a rough and ready medical 
service, complicated by language difficulties. Suffering Syrians 
would point to their stomachs and make agonised faces. ‘The 
local government doctor in <name key="name-013373" type="place">Afrine</name> (paid by the Syrian Government) was rather a casual sort of chap—most of his medical 
instruments were rusty and he had no stethoscope [he placed 
an ear against the patient's chest],’ writes Padre Champion. 
‘His son was studying to become a doctor at <name key="name-000629" type="place">Beirut</name>. I hope he 
was more efficient than his father. One does not wonder that 
many of the local people had no confidence in the local medico 
and preferred to come to our RAP.’ Keen and ready for anything, one RAP sergeant prepared to deliver a child, ordered 
hot water galore, and looked very excited at the prospect of 
a new case. Unfortunately the doctor walked in and diagnosed 
the case—not a baby but a large watery cyst.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘At Medaine [Meidane] Ekbes,’ writes Mick <name key="name-010996" type="person">Bradford</name>,<note xml:id="fn1-143" n="9"><p><name key="name-010996" type="person">Sgt C. K. Bradford</name>; Tolaga Bay; born <name key="name-021225" type="place">Gisborne</name>, <date when="1908-09-15">15 Sep 1908</date>; taxi proprietor;
wounded <date when="1943-12-04">4 Dec 1943</date>.</p></note> who 
was working with Malcolm <name key="name-011367" type="person">McKenzie</name>,<note xml:id="fn2-143" n="10"><p><name key="name-011367" type="person">L-Cpl M. M. McKenzie</name>; Hastings; born <name key="name-120455" type="place">Dannevirke</name>, <date when="1918-05-28">28 May 1918</date>; bushman.</p></note> ‘one day when apparently we had gained the confidence of the people a woman 
was brought to us with a very inflamed foot accompanied by 
another woman and three men.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘The feet of course were stained to a deep russet brown and 
I hit upon the idea of painting the swollen part underneath 
with iodine, when a pus sore could be seen. She couldn't put 
the foot to the ground, so taking the bull by the horns, [I] 
decided to lance—no lance only a cut-throat razor—advanced 
on that when with delighted cries from the men and a wild yell 
from the patient the latter was borne to the floor, the foot held 
up invitingly by strong hands, and there was nothing for it but 
to proceed. With plenty of yells from the helpers to drown the 
anguish of the woman the job was accomplished successfully 
—much to my own astonishment! We bound it up and away 
they went all smiles—no conversation, everything by sign language as we had nothing in common.</p>
        <p rend="indent">‘Some days after the sentry on the building sent word up 
that a deuce of a crowd was down below and thought he recognised the woman by the bandaged foot. She came up loaded 
with all sorts of veges., eggs etc., and walked about us to show
<pb xml:id="n144" n="144"/>
how she was cured—<hi rend="i">debbil-debbil</hi> gone from the foot, we learned. 
From that day on we had no peace and the things we were 
asked to tackle would make your hair curl.</p>
        <p rend="indent">One party came in with <hi rend="i">all</hi> the upper teeth infected including the roof of the mouth—a respirator was required on that 
one! A sort of scalpel was obtained from a French woman's 
manicure set and in we went, but that one never came back— 
God only knows how the deuce it panned out—you'd have to 
see it to believe it.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">The variety of cases was in keeping with the primitive life: 
a nine-year-old boy with half his forehead almost lifted off by 
a kick from a donkey; an unfaithful wife of a hillman, who had 
attacked her with axe and dagger, fractured her skull and stabbed her by the collarbone; a Kurd, involved in a feud, who had 
been shot by a Mauser rifle in the leg, ‘an awful mess, he did 
not cry out, he was a brave man.’ Medical men visited nearby 
villages and went further afield, climbing up and down hills 
to reach caves where the sick (and weakling infants) needed 
attention. ‘To my surprise and joy the little baby lived,’ notes 
Sergeant <name key="name-011045" type="person">Cassidy</name>.<note xml:id="fn1-144" n="11"><p><name key="name-011045" type="person">Sgt W. N. Cassidy</name>; <name key="name-120107" type="place">Whakatane</name>; born NZ <date when="1914-11-03">3 Nov 1914</date>; truck driver; twice
wounded.</p></note></p>
        <p rend="indent">Busy though he was Captain Volckman spent much time 
grinding coffee beans and frying them in a pan with a dash of 
mustard, ‘making a liquor which he bottled, and served us well 
later in the desert—a great brew really.’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Leave parties went down to <name key="name-002780" type="place">Aleppo</name>: Select Club (for officers 
only); Select Café (warrant officers and sergeants), and Palace 
Café (other ranks). Some managed to travel further afield, to 
<name key="name-012305" type="place">Damascus</name> and <name key="name-000629" type="place">Beirut</name>. The Kiwi Concert Party and <name key="name-014641" type="organisation">YMCA</name> 
movies came along, and 5 Brigade Band gave several good concerts. Extraordinary band music brought heads out of huts and 
round corners when Boy Scouts, who were strong in <name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name>, 
paraded outside the battalion orderly room for inspection by 
Colonel Russell in gratitude for motoring them to some festival. 
After much discussion it was agreed that the scout band was 
playing our National Anthem.</p>
        <p rend="indent">A good deal of time passed in cards, letter writing, swimming 
(keeping an eye out for water snakes and freshwater crabs) and 
reading. A man who secretly enjoyed comics and received
<pb xml:id="n145" n="145"/>
bundles of them from home now wrote: ‘Lay off the comics 
though as I'm beginning to lose prestige round here.’ Some 
went off dynamiting a few tasteless trout out of the creeks— 
Corporal Pat <name key="name-011266" type="person">Hughes</name><note xml:id="fn1-145" n="12"><p><name key="name-011266" type="person">Cpl P. G. Hughes</name>; Hastings; born <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>, <date when="1914-07-26">26 Jul 1914</date>; clerk.</p></note> was among the pioneer fishermen-grenadiers. The trout, a bit like our New Zealand perch, or a cross 
between a mullet and a trout, weren't much good.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Sixteen much-envied men were chosen for the Ninth Army 
Ski School course in the Lebanons. The skiers might have been 
used as alpine troops in the <name key="name-120048" type="place">Balkans</name>, for a thrust towards Germany through <name key="name-002294" type="place">Greece</name> was being advocated by Mr Churchill at 
this time. Anyhow, of the sixteen skiers, three qualified: Sergeant <name key="name-011089" type="person">Cross</name><note xml:id="fn2-145" n="13"><p><name key="name-011089" type="person">Lt E. K. Cross</name>; <name key="name-008844" type="place">Wellington</name>; born NZ <date when="1915-08-31">31 Aug 1915</date>; commercial traveller;
twice wounded.</p></note> and Privates <name key="name-011642" type="person">Tilbury</name><note xml:id="fn3-145" n="14"><p><name key="name-011642" type="person">Pte H. Tilbury</name>; <name key="name-030535" type="place">Otaki</name>; born <name key="name-120035" type="place">Lower Hutt</name>, <date when="1911-07-25">25 Jul 1911</date>; market gardener.</p></note> and Bunny. <name key="name-001583" type="place">Tilbury</name> says: 
‘That month at the ski school was the toughest I have ever 
put in, counting a lot of skiing, tramping and deerstalking 
before the war. Most of the time we were running round with 
a rifle and pack.’ Bunny recalls the dumping of an unpopular 
canteen sergeant, an Australian, in the concrete pool outside 
the Cedars Hotel. He adds: ‘It was not so very long after leaving 
the ski school that I had a big fall (without skis) and landed up 
800 or 900 feet below ground in a Polish coalmine [as prisoner of war].’</p>
        <p rend="indent">Health was good in <name key="name-003449" type="place">Syria</name>'s bracing climate. Strict precautions, including the ridiculously cumbersome ‘<name key=