Divisional Cavalry

Front Cover

Spine

Back Cover

Title Page

Divisional Cavalry

The authors of the volumes in this series of histories prepared under the supervision of the War History Branch 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.

At the foot of Halfaya Pass, 11 November 1942 black and white photograph of trucks

Official History of New Zealand in the Second World War 1939–45 Divisional Cavalry R. J. M. LOUGHNAN WAR HISTORY BRANCH DEPARTMENT OF INTERNAL AFFAIRS WELLINGTON, NEW ZEALAND 1963 set up, printed and bound in new zealand by coulls somerville wilkie ltd. dunedin and distributed by whitcombe and tombs ltd.

Foreword

windsor castle black and white photograph of coat of arms

By Lieutenant-General the Lord Freyberg, vc, gcmg, kcb, kbe, dso

I feel greatly honoured to be asked to write the foreword to the history of the New Zealand Divisional Cavalry. The Div Cav, as it was usually known in the 2nd NZEF in the Middle East, went overseas with the First and Second Echelons and fought in all of the 2nd Division's battles from Greece to Trieste. In Greece its role was that of rearguard: it delayed the enemy at important road junctions and bridges while the Division withdrew behind it, held him up with its fire while the engineers blew their demolitions, and scurried back to fight again. One squadron, under Major John Russell, saw hard fighting as infantry in Crete, but in the Second Libyan Campaign of November-December 1941 its squadrons filled their real role as the eyes of the Division, scouting over the desert in their Bren carriers and light tanks, reporting enemy movements, carrying orders on the battlefield. One of its squadrons took a prominent part in the negotiations with the Germans for the surrender of Bardia and the release from captivity of some 1100 prisoners, 650 of them New Zealanders.

At the Battle of Alamein the regiment fought in support of the 9th British Armoured Brigade under the Division's command, and in the long advance to Tunis it was back in its scouting role at the head of the Division with the Royal Scots Greys and the King's Dragoon Guards.

In Italy mud and static warfare grounded its Staghound armoured cars and the Divisional Cavalry fought for much of the time as infantry. In November 1944 it became the Divisional Cavalry Battalion, and as such saw hard fighting in the last battles of the Italian campaign. After the war the battalion, as part of J Force, served on occupation duties in Japan.

The dash and high morale of the Divisional Cavalry were at all times a byword in the Division, and for this, tribute must be given to its commanders. Illness deprived Lieutenant-Colonel Pierce of his chance to lead the regiment in battle, and Colonel Carruth commanded it in Greece. Colonel Nicoll led it in the difficult days of 1941–42; Colonel Sutherland took it from Alamein to Tripoli; Ian Bonifant and Nick Wilder, both young officers who saw much service, commanded it throughout the fighting in Italy until January 1945, when Colonel J. R. Williams took charge for its last battles from the Senio to Trieste. When he was wounded on 29 April he handed over command to Colonel Tanner, and Duncan MacIntyre later took the battalion to Japan.

The Divisional Cavalry was a unit with a fine tradition and a grand record. I hope its story will be widely read.

black and white photograph of signature of Bernard FreybergDeputy Constable and Lieutenant Governor,

Windsor Castle

9 July 1962

Dedication

this book is dedicated to no one particular person but to an intangible something created by many hundreds of persons: something which completed their own and my own manhood and maturity and which gave me deep respect for the moral and physical courage of my fellow countrymen: something which, unlike us, will never die.

It is dedicated to: The Spirit of the Divisional Cavalry.

Acknowledgments

Though my name appears under the title, this book is not just my own effort. True, it represents some years of all the patience I could muster, hundreds of hours of research and some hundreds of letters written. It represents great help from many people. A lot of them will recognise words drawn from their diaries and letters. I cannot name them all here, but rather do I hope that they will read my thanks in the fact that I have quoted them verbatim. Those whom I cannot thank in this way are Mrs A. E. Woodhouse of Blue Cliffs, who gave me the initial confidence to write anything; my father, Mr R. J. Loughnan, whose criticism at times was as sharp as only a father's can be and which never once failed to improve what I had written; the late Major-General Sir Howard Kippenberger, whose succinct notes of encouragement I now treasure greatly because they so often allayed my frustrations and despairs; the staff of the War History Branch who kept me to the point, who prepared the appendices, biographies and index and arranged the illustrations; the Cartographic Branch of the Lands and Survey Department who prepared the maps. And finally I must thank my wife and family who, for the sake of this book, have accepted so long and patiently, domestic chaos.

R. J. M. Loughnan

Rangiora

,31 August 1962

Contents

Page foreword v acknowledgments vii 1 ngaruawahia-sea voyage-arrival at maadi 1 2 maadi-garawla-baggush-daba 16 3 c squadron with the second echelon 31 4 the regiment united 44 5 greece 51 6 crete 88 7 reorganisation and back to the desert 110 8 the ‘crusader’ campaign 118 9 the capture of bardia 149 10 the syrian holiday 169 11 the race for egypt 179 12 the alamein summer 187 13 the battle of alam halfa 211 14 the battle of alamein 225 15 the left hook at el agheila 245 16 onward to tripoli 257 17 tunisia 269 18 ‘PASTURES NEW’ 289 19 operations on the sangro front 304 20 cassino 323 21 pursuit to florence 338 22 across the rubicon 365 23 from amateur into professional infantry 381 24 over the rivers 385 25 the last days 408 26 the spirit of the regiment 424 roll of honour 426 summary of casualties 430 honours and awards 431 commanding officers 432 index 433

List of Illustrations

Frontispiece At the foot of Halfaya Pass, 11 November 1942 C. E. Grainger Following page 150 Breaking camp at Ngaruawahia, 4 January 1940 R. J. Loughnan collection Leaving the Auckland Domain after the farewell parade, 3 January 1940 First Echelon convoy in the Indian Ocean R. J. Loughnan collection Arrival in Egypt—marching in to Maadi Camp R. J. Loughnan collection Lt-Col C. J. Pierce and Capt R. H. Bell (Adjutant) at Maadi, August 1940 R. J. Loughnan collection Colonel Pierce's driver (Sgt A. T. Caley) sets his sun compass NZ Army Arriving to take part in the Anzac Day service during manoeuvres at El Saff, April 1940 NZ Army Training with Mark II light tanks, Wadi Digla, 1940 NZ Army At Helwan Camp, January 1941 R. J. Loughnan collection The train journey north through Greece S. Morrin Marmon-Herrington armoured car in Greece British official The Aliakmon bridge after its destruction J. F. Potter collection German dive-bomber shot down by the Divisional Cavalry during the withdrawal in Greece NZ Army ‘The morning we landed in Crete’ A. G. Scott collection German parachutists land near Galatas NZ Army These soldiers rowed an 18 ft open boat 150 miles from Greece towards Crete until taken in tow by a Greek scow W. J. Ryan C Squadron crew with a recaptured Stuart tank R. J. Loughnan collection B Squadron tank at Bardia A. G. Scott collection The mosque at Sidi Rezegh J. M. Mitchell Prisoner-of-war compound, Bardia, 2 January 1942 British official General Freyberg inspects the regiment at Maadi, 4 March 1942 NZ Army Captured German staff car bogged down on the Homs–Tripoli road C. E. Grainger Convoy halts beside Lake Tiberias en route to Egypt, June 1942 C. E. Grainger The first issue of Honey tanks, 8 July 1942 NZ Army RHQ signals control truck in communication with squadrons, July 1942 NZ Army (H. Paton) Mr Churchill meets Sgt Alan Sperry during his visit to 2 NZ Division at El Alamein, August 1942 British official Dust C. E. Grainger Wheel tracks, El Alamein R. C. Gibson Divisional Cavalry convoy in Halfaya Pass, 11 November 1942 R. J. Loughnan collection Bivouac near Bardia, November 1942 C. E. Grainger Lunch halt at El Adem, December 1942 C. E. Grainger Near Tmimi C. E. Grainger Trooper Reg Bird, near Tocra Pass, 9 December 1942 R. J. Loughnan collection Following page 250 A halt on the left hook at El Agheila C. E. Grainger An enemy shell bursts among transport near Buerat J. C. White The regiment's Bren carriers pass the saluting base at Tripoli, 4 February 1943 NZ Army (H. Paton) New Zealand Corps on the left hook to Tebaga Gap —as seen by the Divisional Cavalry advanced guard J. C. White German shelling at Enfidaville R. J. Loughnan collection Sgt D. Lunn's crew in Tunisia, April 1943, with an Italian prisoner B. Zola, ‘Parade’ newspaper Padre Taylor (‘Harry Kaitaia’) conducts a church parade at Maadi, July 1943 NZ Army (G. F. Kaye) On the way up to the Sangro, 20 November 1943 NZ Army (G. F. Kaye) C Squadron moving from Gissi to Monte Marconi, 20 November 1943 NZ Army (G. F. Kaye) Cassino At Atina: RHQ welcome the spring sunshine NZ Army (G. R. Bull) An A Squadron Staghound in the Atina–Belmonte area NZ Army (G. F. Kaye) Near Sora. W. J. Tipler and Lt S. A. Morris NZ Army (G. F. Kaye) A B Squadron Staghound at Castiglion Fiorentino NZ Army (G. F. Kaye) Bivouac near Riccione NZ Army (G. F. Kaye) Waiting in Rimini NZ Army (G. F. Kaye) R. A. Loomes and N. N. Phillips in their Staghound at Rimini NZ Army (G. F. Kaye) Watching Allied bombers pass overhead north of Rimini NZ Army (G. F. Kaye) The last attack in Staghounds. Passing through San Giorgio di Cesena, 21 October 1944 NZ Army (G. F. Kaye) Mud near Faenza, December 1944 NZ Army (G. F. Kaye) Crossing the Lamone River at Faenza British official Panzer Grenadiers captured in the Faenza area NZ Army (G. F. Kaye) Lt-Col J. R. Williams receives his DSO from General Freyberg, March 1945 NZ Army (J. Short) Donkey Derby R. J. Loughnan collection Flame-throwers strafe the Senio stopbank, 9 April 1945 NZ Army (G. F. Kaye) Wrecked enemy battery near Medicina NZ Army (G. F. Kaye) A group of Divisional Cavalry Battalion officers at Trieste NZ Army (G. F. Kaye) Some of the regiment's Commanding Officers: Lieutenant-Colonels C. J. Pierce, H. G. Carruth, A. J. Nicoll, J. H. Sutherland, I. L. Bonifant and N. P. Wilder

List of Maps

Facing page Egypt and Cyrenaica 17 Greece 51 Crete 85 Central and Eastern Mediterranean 167 El Alamein 185 Southern Italy 299 Northern Italy 349 In text Page The Aliakmon Line. The New Zealand Division's sector, 5 April 1941 53 The Cole–Atchison patrols, April 1941 56 The Rearguard at Elevtherokhorion, morning 18 April 71 Allen Force withdraws from the Pinios Gorge, 18 April 74 Divisional Cavalry positions in Crete, 4–26 May 1941 90 The Advance into Libya, 18–21 November 1941 119 The Advance to Tobruk, 23–27 November 134 Ambush at Menastir, 3 December 155 Operations on the Egyptian Frontier, 16 December 1941–17 January 1942 162 Eastern Mediterranean 173 Ruweisat Ridge, dawn 15 July 1942 200 El Mreir, 21–22 July 1942 205 Miteiriya Ridge—dawn positions, 24 October 1942 232 Left Hook at El Agheila 249 Outflanking Nofilia, 17–18 December 1942 253 Left Hook at Mareth 271 The Breakthrough at Tebaga Gap, 26 March 1943 276 Gabes to Enfidaville 279 The Sangro front, November 1943-January 1944 309 Advance to Castelfrentano, 28 November-2 December 1943 311 The Roads to Rome 324 Cassino 328 New Zealand positions, 28 March 1944 335 From Cassino to Balsorano 343 The Advance to Florence 352 From the Fontanaccia to the Uso, 24–26 September 1944 370 Wilder Force crosses the Fiumicino River, 15–16 October 1944 373 The Advance to the Savio, October 1944 377 From the Senio to the Gaiana, 9–17 April 1945 398 The Division's route from the Senio to the Adige, 9–27 April 1945 404 From Padua to the Piave 413

The occupations given in the biographical footnotes are those on enlistment. The ranks are those held on discharge or at the date of death.

CHAPTER 1 Ngaruawahia - Sea Voyage - Arrival at Maadi

A few minutes before midnight on 3 September 1939 the Governor-General received the following telegram from the Secretary of State for Dominion Affairs. So portentous a message had a brief text: ‘War has broken out with Germany.’

Within a few hours a Gazette Extraordinary was issued at Wellington declaring that a state of war with the German Reich had existed as from 9.30 p.m., New Zealand standard time, on the third day of September 1939. On the same day, 4 September, the Governor-General replied to the Secretary of State informing him that His Majesty's Government in New Zealand desired immediately to associate themselves with His Majesty's Government in the United Kingdom in honouring their pledged word. ‘They entirely concur with the action taken, which they regard as inevitably forced on the British Commonwealth if the cause of justice, freedom, and democracy is to endure in this world.’

The same telegram contained the offer of assistance which was to lead to the despatch of the New Zealand Expeditionary Force; and the plans which had already been prepared in the event of such an emergency were immediately put into effect.

On 6 September Cabinet authorised the mobilisation for active service of a ‘Special Force’ comprising 6600 all ranks between the ages of 21 and 35 years. Enlistment was to be for the duration of the war and twelve months thereafter, or until lawful discharge.

In this manner was the nucleus of the 2nd New Zealand Expeditionary Force brought into being. Its overseas destination and the method of its employment were not determined until the first week in October. Negotiations for the supply of mechanical equipment were finalised when the War Office announced its intention to provide all War Department types for the theatre of war to which the force should be sent. In the meantime, training in New Zealand would continue with the limited equipment available.

An interim Divisional Cavalry Regiment war establishment was drawn up to suit the mechanical equipment scale available —six Bren carriers to the regiment. This establishment embraced a Regimental Headquarters, an HQ Squadron and a Machine-gun Squadron. It was soon decided, however, that the establishment of the regiment should eventually conform with that of a British Divisional Cavalry regiment.

Three parts of the regiment were mobilised at Ngaruawahia Military Camp, a few miles from the outskirts of Hamilton, and the nucleus of a squadron went to Narrow Neck, near Auckland.

The first members of the regiment assembled at the camp on 27–30 September. The majority of these were officers and non-commissioned officers of the rank of corporal and above, representative of every mounted rifle regiment in New Zealand, and selected to form the framework round which the regiment was to be built. A bewildering range of hat and collar badges was displayed by these first-comers: ‘Boar's Head’, North Auckland Mounted Rifles; ‘Eagle’, Auckland – East Coast Mounted Rifles; ‘Tui’, Waikato Mounted Rifles; ‘Tree Fern’, Queen Alexandra Mounted Rifles; ‘6 inside Fernleaf’, 6th Manawatu Mounted Rifles; ‘Rearing Horse’, Wellington – East Coast Mounted Rifles; ‘Ram's Head’, Canterbury Yeomanry Cavalry; ‘Silver Shield’, Otago Mounted Rifles.

The first few days were fully occupied in preparations for the arrival of the main draft. Tents were erected, cookhouses with civilian cooks provided, and messing arrangements made. Orderly rooms and Quartermasters' stores were established and supplies of bedding and other equipment made available. Time was also found for some elementary instruction of both officers and NCOs.

The arrival of the main draft was spread over the five days, 3–7 October, with later substantial additions to strength on 17–19 October. New arrivals all received the same welcome. After being checked and officially ‘marched in’, the men were issued with eating utensils and introduced to the cookhouse for what was to many their first army meal. Suitably fortified, they were next issued with blankets and palliasses and allotted their bell tents, which were shortly to prove able to furnish highly Spartan wet weather features. The issue of uniforms to those who had arrived in camp in civilian clothes was a somewhat remarkable occasion. Many of the uniforms—really rather an unfortunate term—were the reconditioned rejects of former Territorial owners; they were odd in size, peculiar in shape, kaleidoscopic in colour, ‘varying as the hues of the morn’; indeed, alike only in the possession, quite often, of twin arms and legs. Well aware of the limitations of his stock, the Quartermaster was compelled to feign enthusiasm for all but the most outrageous misfits. He who wore his uniform to camp was sartorially twice blessed in the possession of a uniform of reasonable size and colouring.

Queues for mess, queues for pay, queues for inoculations, medical examinations and inspections, dental parades and leave parades, taught patience to the impatient. Men from all walks of life and all parts of New Zealand soon thought less often of their civilian lives while surging together in an unfamiliar spate of parades, squad drill, rifle exercises, bayonet drill, PT, lectures and games. Daylight hours not occupied in training and queueing were enlivened by fatigues and guard duties. Mess, cookhouse, coal and sanitary fatigues, shower fatigues and fatigues so undesirable as to render their anonymity—until the last moment—essential, fell the lot of wary and unwary alike. A soldier fortunate or sprightly enough to miss a fatigue would be fairly sure to find himself down for the next guard or picket duty as an unwilling offering upon the altar of good order and military discipline. Spare time was limited and was spent in cleaning buttons and other brass, in letter-writing, or in playing cards or quoits in the recreation huts provided in the camp by the YMCA, the Church Army and the Salvation Army.

No general leave was granted in the first two weeks and only 50 per cent of the unit strength was allowed to leave the camp area at the weekend of 14–15 October. From that date weekend leave was obtainable by a limited number, while day leave on either Saturday or Sunday was open to a fairly generous number. To many, the early weeks without leave assumed at least some of the proportions of a drought, since the camp possessed at that time no wet canteen.

During the early days of the regiment's training the traditional slouch hat was worn by all ranks. On 12 October, however, it was announced that from that date the regiment would wear the peaked hat as affected by the other units of the Special Force. This was to distinguish it from the Territorial Force. The order was of course obeyed, but certain ancient warriors declared that they saw the beginning of the end in this infringement of their privilege. Deeper were the sentiments of those who missed the early morning ‘Stables’ of the Mounted Rifles camps. They found it hard to turn out of bed and fall in on the vehicle park to attend to some cold metallic machines, covered with clammy dew, which could never render the mute, affectionate thanks that they had been accustomed to receive for the early morning grooming. It was hard—nigh impossible— to conjure up enthusiasm for the signals ‘start up’, ‘mount’, ‘dismount’, ‘switch off’, given by a shivering officer, himself missing the ‘good old days’ when, in his place, should have been a cheery-faced trumpeter blowing ‘Feed!’

The first Commanding Officer of the regiment joined on 29 September 1939. He was Lieutenant-Colonel Pierce, MC, ED,

Lt-Col C. J. Pierce, MC, ED, m.i.d.; born Inglewood, 5 Feb 1893; farmer; Wgtn Mtd Rifles 1914–19 (Capt); CO Div Cav Sep 1939-Feb 1941; died 31 Jul 1941.

Waikato Mounted Rifles, who retained command of the regiment until the end of February 1941, when failing health led to his return to New Zealand.

Major Carruth

Lt-Col H. G. Carruth, ED, m.i.d.; born Whangarei, 6 Nov 1895; solicitor; CO Div Cav Feb-Jul 1941; Comp Trg Depot Jul 1941-Apr 1942; wounded 24 Apr 1941; died 13 Jun 1961.

was second-in-command, with Captain Bell, NZSC,

Lt-Col R. H. Bell; Christchurch; born Timaru, 19 Jan 1909; civil servant; joined NZ Staff Corps 1 Sep 1939; wounded 30 May 1944.

as adjutant. The squadron commanders were: Major Potter

Lt-Col J. F. Potter, VD; Auckland; born Auckland, 19 Jul 1891; school-teacher; CO 1 Armd Regt, RNZAC, Mar 1944-Nov 1948.

(No. 1 Squadron), Captain Russell

Lt-Col J. T. Russell, DSO, m.i.d.; born Hastings, 11 Nov 1904; farmer; 2 i/c Div Cav 1941; CO 22 BnFeb-Sep 1942; wounded May 1941; killed in action 6 Sep 1942.

(No. 2 Squadron), Major Nicoll

Lt-Col A. J. Nicoll, ED, m.i.d.; Ashburton; born Ashburton, 2 Feb 1900; farmer; CO Div Cav Jul 1941-Oct 1942.

(No. 3 Squadron—at Narrow Neck), Captain Wallace

Lt-Col T. C. Wallace, ED, m.i.d.; Cambridge; born Auckland, 14 Apr 1905; farmer.

(HQ Squadron), and Major Graves, NZMC,

Col P. V. Graves, ED; Waverley; born Hawera, 1 Apr 1896; medical practitioner; RMO Div Cav 1939–40; ADMS Central Military District Sep 1942-Aug 1944.

was Medical Officer.

Early training time was taken up with parade-ground drill and instruction on the Vickers and Bren guns. On 9 October a demonstration of the new drill in ‘threes’ was given by NCOs under the RSM, and adopted—though with some reluctance. Nearly all officers and NCOs had done training as Mounted Rifles so that the cavalry drill system died hard. Later they were to adopt a system of foot-drill, in column, which conformed with their old mounted movements. This, too, they jealously preserved as a tradition, almost indeed as a religion.

On 21 October the regiment was introduced to anti-gas precautions. Officers and men had a period of gas training under the RSM; three days later there came gas training for the whole regiment, with the most unwelcome instruction that respirators would in future, when and where practicable, be worn during working hours. Several route marches in steel helmets and respirators followed, with gas training practised on the march.

As efficiency was obtained in the more elementary phases of soldiering, more advanced exercises and work with the Bren carriers were introduced. The greater interest of this work, combined with PT twice daily and frequent route marches, led to an admirable standard of physical fitness throughout the regiment. Football, cricket, boxing and tabloid sports filled the need for recreational exercise. When practicable, alternate Saturday mornings were given over to interior economy. The wooden tent floors were removed, scrubbed, and left to dry in the sun, if any. Personal washing was done under squadron arrangements. Tent lines were inspected for cleanliness and orderly kit layout. In the afternoon, soldiers going on leave were paraded and inspected by the orderly officer. Special leave trains were run, and later, tickets at two-thirds normal cost were available. Within the camp evening entertainment was limited to occasional concert parties from Auckland, Hamilton and Ngaruawahia who performed in the recreation huts. With the opening of the wet canteen another reliable entertainment was added to the list and many a contented evening was spent in queueing for and disposing of the beer ration.

The early weeks in camp were complicated by bad weather. Many of the ancient tents were not proof against heavy rain and leaked badly, causing bedding to become saturated. Extra groundsheets were issued and drying-rooms established, but these proved inadequate for the large quantities of wet clothes and bedding that needed attention.

An epidemic of influenza so filled the hospital in Hamilton that soon only the most serious cases could be evacuated. Makeshift hospitals in EPIP

European Personnel Indian Pattern.

tents were set up in the squadron lines to accommodate those not ill enough to be evacuated. With an improvement in the weather the outbreak subsided, but not before the training programme had been considerably disorganised.

November passed in hard training, with one eye cocked on the forthcoming trip to Waiouru in early December. This would involve advanced training with other units, including battle practice with live ammunition. The regiment had so far acquitted itself quite well on the ranges, but this would be a new experience to most and was being eagerly awaited.

On 30 November the units encamped at Ngaruawahia were inspected by the Governor-General, Viscount Galway, who expressed his appreciation of what he saw by a message which was received the same day.

The regiment moved to Waiouru on 3 December, part by troop train under Major Carruth and part by MT convoy under Lieutenant-Colonel Pierce, and returned by the same means on 10 December. Training there included squadron manoeuvres, field firing, and work as an advanced guard, both dismounted and in trucks with wireless communication. All were agreed that Waiouru in December was an excellent camp, regretting that a larger part of their training had not been carried out there. Those who, less than two years later, experienced the same camp under winter conditions were to express their opinions differently and more freely.

Inconspicuously absent during the Waiouru period was the regiment's advanced party of 2 officers and 10 other ranks under command of Lieutenant Ballantyne,

Maj L. B. Ballantyne, ED, m.i.d.; born Waitahora, 18 Jul 1912; sheep-farmer; CO Comp Trg Depot 1942; died 13 Sep 1957.

with Second-Lieutenant Kelsey

Col J. O. Kelsey, MBE, m.i.d.; born New Plymouth, 22 Nov 1904; sales manager and accountant; COME 2 NZEF 1941–42; ADOS 1942–45; DDOS NZ Corps Feb-Mar 1944.

and one trooper of the attached 13 LAD.

Light Aid Detachment.

This party began final leave on 5 December and sailed from Wellington with the divisional advanced party on 11 December.

On returning to Ngaruawahia all ranks were given a blood- typebloodtype test at the Camp Hospital. Each man's blood group would appear on his identification discs, when these were issued, together with his name, religion and number. All rifles, LMGs and MGs were cleaned, oiled and stored under squadron arrangements. Christmas leave addresses and permanent home addresses were recorded; new khaki drill uniforms were issued. Final leave was for fourteen days and all ranks were warned that from midnight on 13 December they were to be on active service. Each man received fourteen days' pay in advance, a gratuity of £3, and a free rail warrant to his destination.

According to the distance they had to travel to and from their homes, drafts left Hopu Hopu on 13, 14 and 15 December and returned on 28–30 December. After Christmas the regiment returned to camp for the last few days of preparation before embarkation. Sea-kits were issued, embarkation rolls compiled, kits inspected and trial packs held. The Hamilton Law Society had offered its services free of charge for the making of soldiers' wills and many took advantage of the offer.

A bombshell was exploded after the regimental parade on the morning of 2 January when all ranks were informed that not more than £2 in New Zealand currency could be taken on board transports. This was unexpected and caused quite a sharp demand for Bank of England notes and dollar bills. On the morning of Wednesday, 3 January, a special parade was held in the Auckland Domain of all the First Echelon troops from Ngaruawahia and Papakura camps. There were farewell speeches, a lunch served by the women of Auckland, and a march through streets lined with people, many of whom, it was said, had come long distances to pay their tribute to the first members of the 2nd NZEF to leave for overseas service: then back to camp for the final packing and tidying up.

At 10.25 p.m. on 4 January the regiment entrained at Hopu Hopu for the first stage of its journey to an unknown overseas destination. Despite the supposed secrecy of the move there were crowds of people at many of the stations on the route to Wellington. As so often is the case, the final rumours to reach the public had apparently been accurate. Further crowds were encountered at the entrance to the Wellington wharf as the troop train carrying the Divisional Cavalry moved in at 12.30 p.m. on the following day. It was drawn alongside the Rangitata, the troopship allotted to them, and men immediately began to file aboard. Embarkation was completed by 2.15 p.m. and the ship pulled out into the stream and dropped anchor. One by one the others followed suit: the Empress of Canada, the Strathaird and the Orion. Finally, during the afternoon, the cruiser HMAS Canberra steamed over to the end of the line and, like a hen with chicks, settled herself for the night. A launch sailed round the ships. Standing waving in its stern was General Freyberg.

Lt-Gen Lord Freyberg, VC, GCMG, KCB, KBE, DSO and 3 bars, m.i.d., Order of Valour and MC (Gk); born Richmond, Surrey, 21 Mar 1889; CO Hood Bn 1914–16; comd 173 Bde, 58 Div, and 88 Bde, 29 Div, 1917-18; GOC 2 NZEF Nov 1939-Nov 1945; twice wounded; Governor-General of New Zealand Jun 1946-Aug 1952.

Those on board the Rangitata were not to see him again until, six weeks later and half a world away, he met the convoy at Port Tewfik and took their salute as they marched for the first time into the camp at Maadi.

There were messages from His Excellency the Governor- General, from Major-General Sir Andrew Russell,

Maj-Gen Sir Andrew Russell, KCB, KCMG; GOC 1 NZ Div 1915–19; Inspector-General, NZ Military Forces, 1939–41.

and from the Chief of the General Staff, Major-General Duigan.

Maj-Gen Sir John Duigan, KBE, CB, DSO, m.i.d.; born NZ 30 Mar 1882; served South Africa, 1900–1; 1 NZEF 1915–18; Chief of General Staff, NZ Military Forces, 1937–41; died 9 Jan 1950.

They sent their best wishes for a good passage and safe arrival, their congratulations to those chosen to be of the first contingent, and their confidence in the men of the young Division. The GOC replied on behalf of his troops with thanks for the encouragement and the assurance that all ranks would strive to justify their messages.

Somehow, lying there at anchor in the glassy water of Wellington harbour, with the peacefulness of the evening complemented by the thin, plaintive calls of the gulls, it was impossible to imagine that this was a scene of war—impossible to imagine that some would never see it again. There was only the deep undercurrent of excitement in every heart, brought about by something new, and fertilised by the impatience to be away and to strike a blow lest the war should suddenly end before they arrived.

At 6 a.m. on Saturday, 6 January, the convoy pulled out into Cook Strait. There it was joined by two ships carrying the troops from Burnham. From now on the ships lost their identity and became His Majesty's Transports. There were the flagship, Empress of Canada (Z1), Dunera (Z2), Strathaird (Z3), Orion (Z4), Rangitata (Z5) and Sobieski (Z6), escorted by HMS Ramillies, HMAS Canberra, and by HMS Leander of the New Zealand Division of the Royal Navy.

The day they sailed was the day when, at heart, the troops became true soldiers. It was then that the words ‘On Active Service’ took their proper significance. At any instant now a torpedo could bring unwarned destruction; a remote possibility here, to be sure, but a thought to be considered soberly. Going to war was at last a reality; and now that certain fatalism which is part and parcel of every soldier asserted itself. It came unaccompanied by fear. Gazing over the rail at Mt Egmont fading into the mist, a soldier might make the casual and quite impersonal conjecture that one might never see it again. Far more manifest was the attempt to imagine, in the homecoming, the same sight clarifying out of the mist into a reality. The feeling of soft farewell—the lump in the throat—was not evident. Young bodies were too fresh for that, young minds too keen; and the last snow-cap of New Zealand faded into more matter of fact mist than would be caused by tears.

For the first few hours everybody settled into their quarters and found their way about the ship. In some respects the regiment was most fortunate in its transport. The Rangitata was carrying only 444 all ranks, of which the Divisional Cavalry complement accounted for 369. The staff of 2 NZEF Overseas Base, detachments of 13 and 14 LAD, 4 Field Ambulance, some RNVR ratings, and three Sisters of the NZANS made up the remainder. With the exception of the Dunera, which before the war was a transport carrying drafts of British troops to Indian and Eastern stations, all the ships of the convoy were peacetime passenger liners and, as yet, were not altered much internally. Most of the contingent travelled in cabins with many of the comforts and facilities of the peacetime tourist. Officers travelled first class, warrant officers and sergeants second class, and other ranks third class.

Once well out into the Tasman, life settled down to such training as was possible. Troop training areas were allotted and training schedules made out. Schools of instruction were started and all NCOs and staff instructors reported each morning to the RSM for small-arms training. A ‘Dormitory NCO’ was appointed weekly by each squadron to ensure that Reveille and Lights Out were observed, and a ship's blackout patrol enforced regulations against smoking on deck or showing any other lights within the hours of darkness. Ships of the convoy checked each other for lights showing from portholes and took a certain pleasure in virtuously pointing out the smallest glimmer. There were careful inspections of rifles twice weekly to guard against the action of salt air on metal. On the morning of 9 January HMS Ramillies, escorting the Empress of Canada, left the convoy to disembark the General and his ADMS, who were to continue their journey to Egypt from Sydney by air. Brigadier Puttick,

Lt-Gen Sir Edward Puttick, KCB, DSO and bar, m.i.d., MC (Gk), Legion of Merit (US); Wellington; born Timaru, 26 Jun 1890; Regular soldier; NZ Rifle Bde 1914–19 (CO 3 Bn); comd 4 Bde Jan 1940-Aug 1941; 2 NZ Div (Crete) 29 Apr-27 May 1941; CGS and GOC NZ Military Forces, Aug 1941-Dec 1945.

commanding 4 NZ Infantry Brigade, assumed command of the contingent. The two vessels rejoined the convoy the next day, to be followed a few hours later by the transports Orcades, Orford, Otranto and Strathnaver, carrying Australian troops, and escorted by the cruisers HMAS Sydney and HMAS Australia HMS Leander then left the convoy. On 12 January the Empress of Japan, with troops from Melbourne, also joined the convoy which, with the naval escort, now numbered fourteen vessels.

Squadrons themselves arranged most of the training. This was in the hands of the NCOs since the officers had much of their time taken up with lectures. Lifeboat drill was of course a regular part of the routine, so that each man knew where to go in an emergency and how to tie his life-jacket properly. ‘Easy dress’ was the rule on board—jerseys, denim trousers or shorts, and deck shoes on parade—shorts or bathing trunks when off duty. The increasing heat after leaving Fremantle, however, resulted in an order forbidding sunbathing and enforcing the wearing of felt hats during the heat of the day. Rubber-soled shoes were found to be dangerous on wet decks and they were blamed for much foot trouble during the voyage, owing to their bad ventilation. Many men bought themselves leather sandals at Fremantle and Colombo.

Time passed pleasantly enough in moderate training, deck sports, reading, card playing, or in just leaning on the rail watching the ships and guessing their identity. Reading matter was plentiful, thanks to the National Patriotic Fund and to Lieutenant-Colonel Pierce, who presented bundles of books and magazines for distribution to the troops.

A boxing tournament was held during the trip and this brought about some very keenly contested bouts after the vigorous training beforehand. A concert, held on the night of 12 January, revealed the presence of a surprising amount of talent. Thus encouraged, Major Treadwell,

Lt-Col C. A. L. Treadwell, OBE, ED, m.i.d.; Wellington; born Lower Hutt, 15 May 1889; barrister and solicitor; Wgtn Regt (Capt) 1915–19; DJAG and later JAG, NZ Military Forces.

as editor, was soon calling for contributions for a troopship magazine.

The weather during the crossing of the Australian Bight was just bad enough to make the indifferent sailors seasick, a long swell proving the downfall of the queasy. Some rather lack-lustre eyes watched convoy manoeuvres on 16 January as the cruisers Australia and Sydney staged a mock attack on the convoy. The convoy closed in and increased speed and, at the signal of a whistle-blast from the Dunera, scattered in star formation. Under cover of a low bank of mist and a smoke- screensmokescreen laid by the Ramillies, the other ships vanished from sight.

At 3 p.m. on 18 January the convoy entered Gage Roads off Fremantle. Leave was keenly awaited. Issues of New Zealand hat and collar badges and long puttees had been completed so that the troops on leave should be properly dressed. Leave was granted from midday until 11 p.m. on 19 January. The atmosphere at Perth and Fremantle was described by Brigadier Puttick in a report to Army Headquarters on 20 January as being ‘one of almost hysterical goodwill and comradeship, affecting soldiers and civilians alike.’ The townspeople went far out of their way to make the troops' leave enjoyable. They not only took them in their cars to see the sights of the town but carried them off to their homes and entertained them royally. The good behaviour and bearing of the men was favourably commented on both by the people of Perth and by O'sC Troops. A good deal of lighthearted fraternisation occurred with the Australian troops from the other transports. The results of this were still coming to light a few days later when some of the men discovered to their amazed surprise that the only headgear they possessed was an Australian slouch hat of much superior quality to their own. A few men found that they had unwittingly changed ships. Although many badges and titles had been given away as souvenirs in Perth and were gone beyond recall, the exotic headgear was collected by quartermasters and exchanged with the Australians for the New Zealand variety found on board their ships.

The convoy left Fremantle at midday on 20 January with the escort augmented by the cruiser HMS Kent and the French warship Suffren. However, on the following day the two Australian cruisers left the convoy. The Commodore's farewell message wished both the Australian and New Zealand troops goodbye, good luck, and an early and victorious return.

The rapidly increasing heat, combined with vaccinations, led to some relaxation in the training syllabus. Some of those who had not previously been vaccinated spent some very uncomfortable days at this time. The heat of the nights in the cabins was intense, the portholes being closed for blackout purposes, so that permission was given for a proportion of the men to sleep on deck. This was a great blessing only slightly marred by the risk of being almost literally washed off the decks in the very small hours of the morning by an unsympathetic mariner who, having been himself roused some long time before, was probably more pleased than otherwise to compel others to join him in his quasi-nocturnal activities.

Two swimming baths were constructed on Z5, one forward for officers and sergeants and one aft for other ranks, and these were much appreciated.

One day out from Fremantle there was a cry of ‘Man Over- boardOverboard’. The alarm was genuine, the subject of it being a man from the Orcades who was picked up by the Rangitata, the following ship in the convoy, thanks to a combination of good seamanship and good fortune.

During daylight, signal watches were set by the troops to maintain communication between ships. This gives rise to a story of two Div Cav men who were working hard to pass a message to the Dunera under very trying visual conditions. They had been interrupted by an apologetic message back: ‘Cannot read Morse very well.’ Such a glimpse of the obvious, combined with the heat of the sun and the effects of their recent vaccination, prompted the troopers to send back a message: ‘Well, send steward on pushbike.’

The sighting of Cocos Island at mid-morning on 25 January brought all on board to thoughts of leave at their next port of call, Colombo, and on being informed that mail would be sent from there, bachelor and benedict alike turned to writing letters.

As though to relieve the tedium of those hot and humid days, HMS Ramillies staged a live shoot and practice smoke- screensmokescreen and the flash of her guns through the smoke haze proved an impressive spectacle.

The Equator was crossed on 28 January but the usual ceremonies were not held for fear of complications in many of the vaccinal cases. A few stalwarts, however, managed their own ceremonies below decks that evening by attending on all those who, emboldened by the increasing distance from critical and outspoken families, had grown moustaches. That evening it was unofficially decreed that the moustache would be worn on one side of the lip only, which decree was forcibly, if painfully, carried out in the cabins.

The convoy arrived at Colombo at midday on 30 January and entered into a harbour of shipping of all kinds and sizes. Natives in sampans crowded round to sell pineapples, mangoes, durians and goods of all kinds. Trade was brisk but few on board could boast that they got the better of the wily merchants in the boats below. Those from the Orion and Strathaird went ashore the same day but the Rangitata's complement did not go until the next day. Then, after a march through the streets to the barracks, the regiment was given leave until five o'clock.

Colombo was the first glimpse, to most, of the East and it was an entertaining day. Rickshaw derbies were a favourite pastime, while others found in the local brew an experience they would gladly have missed. No one had much trouble in spending his pay of 10.20 rupees which, being unacceptable in the ship's canteen, had to be spent ashore.

The convoy put to sea again at midday on 1 February, escorted now by an aircraft carrier, HMS Eagle, with Ramillies, Sussex and Hobart. A French transport, the Athos II, which was on her way to Djibouti in French Somaliland, also joined the convoy. Training was resumed but not with much zest, so perhaps it was boredom that accounted for the appearance of a few Crown and Anchor boards. The inevitable concentration of the ship's currency in the hands of the few was speedily followed by an order prohibiting all gambling.

On 4 February an aircraft from the Eagle provided a diversion by crashing into the sea within sight of the convoy. The crew was rescued. On the following day the troops manned ship in salute to HMS Ramillies as she steamed down the line of transports before she left the convoy she had escorted for more than four weeks.

At Aden the convoy divided, the Rangitata amongst others calling in there for fuel. Leave was granted for the afternoon, but as there was no issue of pay, a mild blight was cast over what is, at the best of times, a dull and dingy port.

On board the Rangitata training was virtually ended. Equipment was stored for unloading, mail closed, library books returned, serge uniforms unpacked and final inspections made to ensure that every man had a snugly fitting set of web equipment. A final concert was held on the evening of 10 February. Both officers and men combined to burlesque the training and incidents during the voyage. Well-known songs were parodied in words to suit the regiment whilst not offending the more sensitive ears of the three members of the NZANS on board. The whole programme provided a witty and enjoyable summary of the voyage.

The short run up the Red Sea was made more or less independently. The Rangitata arrived at Tewfik, the port of Suez, in the early morning of 13 February. Only an advanced party which travelled to Maadi by truck disembarked that day.

The Secretary of State for Dominion Affairs, Mr Anthony Eden, had flown out from England especially to welcome the troops. He delivered his address of welcome on board the Empress of Canada, the first ship to arrive. He waited, however, for every ship and was very quickly recognised as he sailed by launch round the Rangitata with General Freyberg.

Before disembarkation the next morning, a kit inspection was held. This was an endeavour to locate at least some of the portable objects which had been souvenired; and these were gratefully accepted back by the ship's orderly room with no questions asked.

The regiment disembarked soon afterwards in lighters, which took them to the quay, and after a short march to the railway siding was introduced to its first Egyptian troop train. The wide Egyptian rail gauge made the coaches seem more commodious than those at home, but this was more than offset by the unforgiving character of the wooden seats. More fortunate than the majority was a special detail under Lieutenant Neal,

Capt A. V. Neal; born Blenheim, 29 Jan 1911; farmer.

which left in trucks for Port Said to pick up some of the regiment's motor transport and drive it to Maadi.

Before disembarking, all ranks had been paid in Egyptian currency. They were therefore equipped to meet for the first time the trading Arab. This encounter was with the money changer who boarded the train. His European suit and well-pressed tarbush, his smile displaying a generous expanse of gold, and his confidential helpfulness in explaining the new currency lulled even the most suspicious into belief in the scrupulous honesty of the Arab race. And the great handful of silver which he counted out in exchange for a pound note gave his customer the feeling of having become a millionaire. In figures the money added up to 100 all right, but, in fact, it came to far less than 100 piastres. In his generosity he had given a liberal quantity of five-millieme pieces, worth a tenth of the value of the five-piastre pieces which he should have tendered. Such was the first lesson from the artful Arab. Many a good man has tried to out-rogue him but the nearest any Div Cav man—and New Zealanders have proved apt pupils— ever got to ‘heading him off’ was he who traded an empty packet of issue cigarettes for the previous day's paper—but this was written in a language he could not understand.

The train journey from Suez to Maadi was full of interest, the more so because much of the route ran through genuine desert country. Indeed, the savage and tawny heights of Gebel Ataqa, west and south of Suez, are probably as impressive as any piece of scenery in North Africa. On the right-hand side of the line the prospect was more monotonous in gently rolling wastes of sand and small stones. Now and again, at wayside halts, there were poverty-stricken clusters of flat-topped dwellings. These the occupants seemed to share on equal terms with a motley entourage of scrawny fowls and feather-tailed dogs of unspeakable ancestry. At such stops the train would be surrounded by a vociferous corps of wallads. There were wallads with fly-whisks, wallads with lemonade, wallads with ‘eggs-a- cook’ and wallads with nothing but an insatiable curiosity, all alike only in the possession of dingy garments closely resembling nightshirts and with gnarled, flat, dusty feet. Only in the approaches to Cairo was there evidence of that fertility in the soil which supported, on the narrow irrigated verges of the Nile, a population approaching sixteen million people. Here the scent of orange groves went far to expunge less fragrant memories. Not that anyone felt disgust at his first view of Egypt—far otherwise. It was all new, strange, interesting and a pleasant change after six weeks of confined shipboard living. The journey from Suez to Maadi took four and a half hours and, as they climbed stiffly out of the train, the regiment were met by the band of the 7th Hussars. It had been sent over as a gesture of welcome from Digla Camp to play them over their mile-and-a-half march through Maadi Camp to their area. The route was lined with troops who had already arrived and who, for the most part, turned out to see this cavalry regiment which had caught their interest in their lectures on tactics. On the roadside too, to take the salute, stood the GOC. Heads and eyes eagerly snapped to the right to catch a glimpse of the man who had been made their Divisional Commander and about whose name there arose such romantic stories of the previous war.

CHAPTER 2 Maadi - Garawla - Baggush - Daba

The maadi camp that greeted the First Echelon was still being formed. Until reinforcements began to arrive and training depots were organised, the camp was only a fraction of that which existed later.

The Division's Advanced Party, less those detailed for courses of instruction, had been attached to 7 Hussars in the next-door camp at Digla. They had come over daily from that regiment with working parties to erect tents and to take delivery of stores.

The main road through the camp had been formed and the beginnings of the side roads. Water had been laid on to each area for ablution benches and cookhouses, but for the first few days, shower-houses were not in operation.

The Divisional Cavalry lines jutted out to the north of the general rectangular shape of the camp in the area which was later occupied by the Artillery Training Depot.

All ranks were accommodated in tents, one EPIP tent to eight men and one bell tent to two officers. Huts were being built and, in a week or so, there were sufficient of these for messing and administration. For a parade ground 4 Field Regiment shared with Divisional Cavalry the space between their areas and the two units also shared a common Naafi.

Navy, Army and Air Force Institute.

The sun in February was dangerous rather than hot and bare backs were strictly forbidden. The first route marches in shorts produced some ugly sunburnt knees which bore out the wisdom of this prohibition. As it was, the regiment's first loss was caused by the sun when, on 19 June, Trooper Thompson

Tpr V. W. Thompson; born NZ 16 Mar 1907; motor driver; died on active service 19 Jun 1940.

was struck down with meningitis and died very suddenly.

In comparison with the days, the nights were surprisingly cold. Within minutes of the sun setting it was dark; a little chilly wind rose and whispered across the sand. On one morning in the first week, the early risers found a thin film of ice on the ablution benches.

coloured map of Egypt

In such a climate the chill of the nights was as dangerous as the rays of the sun. Serge uniforms were compulsory in the evenings.

Equipment began to trickle in, beginning with sufficient transport to make the regiment mobile and independent, as well as a number of motor-cycles. During March the first AFVs

Armoured Fighting Vehicles.

arrived: twelve Bren carriers and five old Mark III tanks. Carriers are well enough known, but the tanks, ancient as they were, do merit some description. They had armour and suspension somewhat similar to Bren carriers. The power units were beautiful Rolls-Royce motors with pre-selector gears. The turrets had a full traverse but they were without armament. In most cases the steering equipment showed signs of wear. These tanks could be decidedly temperamental, so that quite an understanding had to develop between man and machine before a tank could be persuaded to advance or, for that matter, retire on any given course.

There was one tank in particular known as ‘Cappy's Pride’ which had a personality truly original, and which showed those capricious, whimsical habits which suggest that far back in her ancestry—notwithstanding the impossibility of posterity attributed to that obstinate animal—there had existed a most contrary mule. Her best claim to fame amongst the ranks of the Divisional Cavalry was firstly, a determined bid, thwarted just in time, to climb a tree in the streets of Maadi. Unsuccessful, she lulled her driver into a sense of false security by impeccable behaviour for a mile or so. Her next skittish prank therefore caught him unawares when she answered to the right steering lever by lurching headlong to the left, down a bank, and into the filthiest canal in Egypt. No one ever really broke ‘Cappy's Pride’ of her habits. On her final trip to Abbassia, condemned for steering mechanism beyond repair, she obeyed a last whim while passing a cartload of garlic. Her driver found it necessary to pull up suddenly. He trod hard on clutch and footbrake and pulled back both sticks to engage the steering brakes as well. Instead of coming to a quick and graceful halt, as any good-mannered tank should do, her reaction was to spin round sideways, skid a yard or so until square on, and plunge headlong into the cart, smashing it to matchwood against a brick wall. And there she stood—innocent, purring contentedly —in an atmosphere fetid with curses in four languages and rank with the smell of garlic.

Weapon training was done on the range at the end of the camp; for tank gunnery practice, squadrons were taken to the pellet range at Abbassia.

The pellet range was most ingenious and elaborate. Replicas of various tank turrets had been built and mounted the appropriate guns. On these were attached air rifles fired from the guns' triggers. The range itself was a large sand-table with moving targets which were operated electrically. By turning on other switches the turrets would swing a little from side to side and oscillate back and forth irregularly to produce the effect of shooting from a moving tank. Pellet range days were always followed by evenings that were noisier than usual in the Naafi because they had afforded opportunities for side wagers—debts payable in beer that night. For technical training in such subjects as wireless, gunnery, and driving and maintenance quite a proportion of all ranks went to Abbassia. Personnel from the tank troops were attached to 6 Battalion, Royal Tank Regiment, and from carrier troops to 60 King's Royal Rifles.

General training started at a modest level and gradually grew more ambitious as each step was properly mastered. The regiment devised its own exercises and argued out its own problems one by one and, from the very early days, unobtrusively formed a system of tactics which enabled it later to build up a reputation for reliability, and to work at a surprisingly low casualty rate.

Little by little the exercises developed into manoeuvres both by day and night. Squadrons were often set tasks opposing one another. Sometimes these battles extended for days and raged up and down the hills at the back of Wadi Digla. There were furious races to gain points of vantage, and by night, raids on foot which often ended in a stand-up fight or a shower of stones. Strangely enough nobody ever seemed to get hurt in these, though many a tin hat came home with a patch of paint missing.

By way of change from ordinary routine the regiment took occasional days off to hold picnics at various places in and about Cairo. These picnics were most enjoyable as they afforded the pleasure of being able to sit and lie about on the grass in the shade of green trees.

By the middle of April the regiment was well prepared to assume its natural role in the brigade manoeuvres at El Saff. For three days the squadrons were kept at full pressure doing reconnaissance or covering movements of infantry and artillery. The going was soft and most of the work had to be done in wheeled vehicles at a speed that should only be expected of tracked ones. The drivers earned and deserved great praise for skill and daring in the way they handled their trucks, and the General sorted out for particular praise the regiment's DRs

Despatch Riders.

upon whom fell the task of maintaining communication between troops and their headquarters. This they achieved against soft sand, jutting rocks, hills and stony wadis: difficulties almost insuperable, but they never lost touch, day or night, and all this in contravention of the theory that the motor-cycle is useless in the desert.

During the middle of June advanced elements of 7 Armoured Division captured an Italian General. The story has it that on the way back to the Delta he was so surprised to see no troops about that he finally burst out in indignation, asking where were all the enormous reserves of armour that his Intelligence had led him to believe the British had in reserve. The incident arose from the fact that 6 Field Company, New Zealand Engineers, were suddenly ordered to produce a large number of dummy tanks. They enlisted the help of their neighbours, among others the Div Cav, and the job was carried out at high pressure, working in shifts from 6 a.m. until 11.30 p.m. The bulk of the work was done on one very hot day, 20 June, completed on the next two days, and on the 24th some Div Cav transport was detailed to carry part of the completed work to Mersa Matruh. This task was the regiment's first direct connection with the actual fighting of the war.

By the end of June the regiment had received 12 Bren carriers and 10 tanks. The additional AFVs helped a long way towards making the training interesting to men who were beginning to feel the enervating effect of their first Egyptian summer. Most of the training was now done in the early morning and at night.

The heat was really making itself felt. Good Friday had been an exceptionally hot day. At 9.30 a.m. a thermometer hanging two feet above a bucket of water inside the RAP

Regimental Aid Post.

had registered 125 degrees. By the middle of June temperatures of 105 to 110 degrees in the shade were not exceptional. It was the season of the khamseens. Dust-storms arrived suddenly out of an atmosphere ominously still and brazenly hot. The mosquito had caused a few cases of malaria in the camp and the fly had earned for ever the hate of every man. Siesta, without a mosquito net to keep out these persistent pests, was a relentless purgatory. Zeers, large porous vessels which stood in the tent-lines to keep drinking water cool, were issued to all units and each tent was issued with a canvas bag for the same purpose. By night, however, these were put to a different use by any leave personnel returning from carousals in Cairo. They soon found that the bags, given a sharp punch, would spurt water up to the tent roof to shower down upon the snoring bodies below.

When Italy declared war on 10 June, the whole camp was dispersed to double its width. It could expand only one way, and many were the complaints from Div Cav who, living on the outer side, had to move well out into the desert to make room; but had the men been able to visualise the extent of the camp in later times, they would have remained silently grateful for the position they now occupied.

In July the regiment lost some personnel to the newly-formed Long Range Patrol.

This became the Long Range Desert Group on 31 Dec 1940.

They were marched out to Abbassia in three drafts, and by the end of the month three officers, Lieutenants Ballantyne, Sutherland

Lt-Col J. H. Sutherland, MC; Masterton; born Taieri, 10 Dec 1903; stock inspector; CO Div Cav Oct 1942-Jan 1943.

and McQueen,

Lt-Col R. B. McQueen, m.i.d.; born Henderson, 3 Jan 1907; farmer; CO Div Cav (J Force) 3 May-1 Sep 1947.

and about fifty other ranks had gone.

Training in the summer heat, together with the general impatience to be doing some fighting, was by now definitely showing its mark on the men. A gradually lengthening crime list is usually a reliable barometer to record dissatisfaction in a unit, and Div Cav was no exception. The increasing number of defaulters alone indicated that the men felt themselves unfairly held back from helping to win the war.

Another indication of this impatience came at about that time. Volunteers were called for the formation of a parachute force and something else unnamed—rumour fluctuated between ski-troops and commandos. By this time every man had a very conscious pride in his regiment and in belonging to it. Yet there were cases where complete troops volunteered. There was, too, bitter disappointment, and even jealousy, on the part of some men who saw others chosen for the LRP. This was not of course eased by the romantic rumours that crept out concerning the Patrol's task.

Fortunately something happened at this time to ease the tension. The New Zealand troops were ordered to proceed to the Western Desert to build part of the Mersa Matruh defences. All units were divided into roughly two equal parts and formed into composite battalions. A camp site was allotted at Garawla, on the coast about four and a half miles east of the Matruh defences. The task was to dig the outer anti-tank ditch along Wadi Naghamish, which soon became familiarly known as the Kiwi Canal.

All ranks, officers included, set to and dug with enthusiasm. Strangely enough, here the sun was not too dangerous, even though it was midsummer, for men to work stripped to the waist.

General O'Connor came one day to inspect the work. He stood on the parapet looking down the line to spot someone in charge of the job whom he could congratulate on the way the men were toiling. Unable to pick anyone, he asked of the nearest man where he could find the officer in charge. A face with little rivulets of sweat running down through the dust, looked up and said: ‘That's me, Sir.’ The General controlled his surprise, said his say, and wandered along the line to the next party, this time being careful to watch for the colour of the men's boots—the only distinctive mark between officer and man.

The results of all the hard work did not last very long. Three years later, passing by on the way back from Tunisia, the men saw their canal, now completely filled by drifting sand, once again an inconspicuous contour.

Vehicles went in daily to Matruh for supplies. At the second defence line there was a check-post manned by the Egyptian Army. Here a password was necessary, but it mattered little if any driver left camp without being given one. The guards were only too pleased to supply it in exchange for a cigarette.

During the first week there was sign of enemy action: some high-altitude bombing about two miles from the camp. This was far from enough to satisfy the troops' keenness, for a special report on the task reads: ‘… at times it would appear that the men were anxious to fire at anything including our own planes if necessary.’

The work and the nature of the camp site had a wonderful tonic effect on all ranks. They rose early each morning and were taken to work in lorries. Lunch was brought out and they worked until two o'clock, toiling in the bottom of the trench with no breeze to temper the heat of the sun. Then they marched home again and the remainder of the day was free.

Immediately on dismissal the men rushed to their tents, discarding clothes as they went, and raced for the sea. The water was crystal clear, lapping gently on the beach, and at almost blood heat. The aches of toil were washed from their bodies by its smooth caress; the hazy dullness infused into their minds by the monotony of the march home was wooed away by the tinkle of water in their ears,

Sweet, as to the toil-worn man, The far off sound of rippling river

water which caressed the skin almost sensuously, as softly as thistledown, and made them glory in their life and youth. To swim with open eyes in its lambent depths was to dismiss completely the common world, for under the water the swimmer would be absorbed with wonder and admiration. Brown arms pushed past in long easy sweeps, the hands magnified, with every vein and sinew showing, the fingers cupped to catch the water. At each stroke myriads of little silver bubbles like globules of mercury seemed to fight and struggle for the inside position or come shooting upwards past his face, desperate to get to the surface. Beyond all this and deep down through the limpid water was a world of simple beauty. Strewn on a silver-white bed were rocks clad in green and brown and purple leaves; and in and out of their waving fronds were thousands of silver sparkles where the tiny bodies of sardines caught the deflected light of the sun. And on returning to worldly realities, there in the eye of the man swimming alongside—who too had been absorbing beauty—was that peace of mind which can salve every physical and mental pain.

Some predecessors had left the camp site dirty and the flies were more numerous and determined than any they had met elsewhere. But such a triviality is now slight and transient against the memory of the cool breezes and the tender caress of the sea. That memory will remain with the men for ever.

So the change of air and the change of work had had its effect. They had been necessary, too, as shown by an item of Routine Orders of 11 July: ‘The attention of all ranks is drawn to the seriousness of the offence of a sentry or a picquet sleeping at his post. At the present time this offence is occurring far too frequently in this Division. Future cases of this offence will be dealt with most seriously.’

The glowing reports by the first half of the regiment, when they returned to Maadi, were reflected in the spirit of the others as they left to continue the work. The war diary for that day reports: ‘… a very jovial and enthusiastic spirit being noticeable amongst the men.’

This second draft had the distinction of being the first Div Cav men to open fire against the enemy. Full moon in August was from the 12th to the 16th and was marked by intensified bombing at Mersa Matruh. At midnight on 14–15 August the enemy bombed the Naafi dump and, three hours later, a single bomber flew over the camp at Garawla, its target being possibly the railway station. The regiment's AA posts opened fire and appeared to put the bomber off his target, as his bombs— incendiaries—were unloaded on a piece of unoccupied ground a mile to the east of the camp.

The excitement proved enough to put the posts well on their guard and they became very keen to shoot. Four nights later they opened fire again on a plane that failed to drop identification flares. But it was later learned that this craft was a Blenheim limping home on one engine.

About this time the regiment received orders for another digging task. It was to move to Baggush and there to prepare part of a defensive box similar to that at Mersa Matruh. Notification was received on 23 August and preparations were immediately put in hand. Leave was withheld while the area was tidied. Base kits were packed and sent to store and cameras collected to be left at Base. The officers' mess held a dinner and party in honour of the New Zealand nursing sisters at Helwan.

Half the regiment was still at Garawla and, on the morning of the 27th, it left for Maadi, while the other half set off in the other direction. Both broke their journeys at Burg el Arab to bivouac for the night. The Baggush party arrived at three o'clock the next day. The others spent two days in Maadi and rejoined the regiment as A Squadron on 1 September. The tanks and carriers arrived two days later, having gone by rail from Tura to Sidi Haneish.

The camp area was on some high ground a little east of Baggush and half-way between the main road and the sea. Areas were allotted immediately and squadrons set about digging in their tents and setting up AA posts. The weather was now cooler and the nights produced some heavy dews, which caused difficulty in disguising vehicles because they shone in the moonlight.

On 2 September the regiment started its task, the construction of defences at Maaten Baggush and, in conjunction with 4 Field Regiment, at Maaten Burbeita.

Bathing was, of course, a feature of the daily routine and all ranks were taken to the beach. Since there were strong currents here the bathers were ringed at all times by the stronger swimmers, who were detailed to float about in the deeper water to keep watch inshore. There was no difficulty in choosing these men as the regiment had held swimming sports at Maadi not long before the move.

As at Garawla the men worked with a will at their digging, but this time they were soon to regret their keenness. Within a week they had completed their allotment and were warned to move back to take over Line-of-Communication duties at Daba. This news was received with disgust as none relished leaving the camp that they were just making comfortable.

Someone has aptly observed that warfare consists of long periods of intense boredom interspersed with short periods of intense activity. The next four months, doing L of C duty under command of the Western Desert Force, can well be described as of the former. No other four months of the regiment's life were ever so long. Morale, compared with the particularly high standard which had existed, fell back a little. Food was dull and uninteresting, the diet not sufficiently well balanced to maintain perfect health. Desert sores became prevalent, nasty festers, hard to heal, which formed on every bit of grazed skin. The issue of clothing was unsuitable. The weather was now definitely cold but there was no battledress available; yet strangely enough, in November when the warm uniforms would have been particularly welcome, all the base kits were brought up from Maadi especially for the men to take out their serge uniforms and hand them in to the Quartermaster.

The duties of this L of C area were heavy enough to engage a full-strength battalion. The Divisional Cavalry carried them out with a depleted regiment as C Squadron was still in England.

The camp was in a dust-bowl and it was only a matter of weeks before the whole area was cut by wheels and churned by tracks into a powder so fine that it could be felt ‘squelching’ under the feet like water. When wind raised the dust, men were sometimes reduced to such a state that they would not even go to mess, but just sat miserably in their tents wearing their respirators to get some breathable air.

As much of the regimental funds as possible was spent in buying fresh vegetables and fruit for the messes, and—one redeeming feature—the Medical Officer, Captain McQuilkin,

Lt-Col J. P. McQuilkin; Christchurch; born Ashburton, 18 Jul 1900; medical practitioner; CO 5 Fd Amb Jan 1942-Dec 1943.

had recommended, to keep the blood in order under these conditions, as much beer as could be consumed. This came from Alexandria in apparently unlimited quantity. It was weak and tasted more of onions than of hops, but it was beer and there was plenty. There were some uproarious nights in the squadron canteen tents which produced unexpected talent to surprise even the performers.

One famous impromptu monologue looked forty years into the future. It depicted also the attitude of the men at the time. It was a story of a party of sightseers passing through to Mersa Matruh, who saw grey old men in tattered uniforms tumble out of the ragged remains of a tent to form a quarter-guard. When he was asked, ‘Who might those be?’, the guide replied: ‘Those men are the Forgotten Legion. They were the New Zealand Divisional Cavalry who were left here by mistake. Those spectral figures are the old soldiers that never die. They are gradually fading away—The Forgotten Legion.’

Centred round Daba was a ring of six defensive positions. One squadron had the job of manning these and of supplying a guard on an ammunition dump and two troops on light AA duties on the aerodrome of 211 Squadron, RAF, a few miles up the road. The other fighting squadron acted as a mobile column, with one troop as inlying picket. As well as all this a quarter-guard had to be supplied on the main road and AA posts manned within the camp area.

Fortunately, towards the end of the first month, the Egyptian Army took over five of the defensive posts, relieving the pressure somewhat. But soon after, requests were made to the Div Cav for nightly pickets on a neighbouring supply dump.

Altogether the demands on the men were high and no one could envy the squadron SMs their job of allotting duties. Some troop officers earned the everlasting respect and gratitude of their men when they voluntarily turned out and gave a spell on these monotonous duties.

Above all this there was, eating into the heart of every man, impatience to be in the fighting line, and that impatience was mixed with the feeling that nobody seemed interested in moving them past garrisoning and guard duties.

Most impatient of all was a little man with a big heart, Lieutenant-Colonel Pierce; and he was a sick man. Doggedly he concealed his illness whilst, inwardly, he fought a losing battle to keep going until the time when he could lead his beloved command into action. As ill health gained power over him so was his command affected. Dully did each man feel that there was something wrong in the regiment. They felt their morale lowering. They were conscious of petty quarrels coming between squadrons. They knew there was a vague something missing. Somehow the head of their happy family had lost his power to bind them: but not a soul knew why. No one knew of the Colonel's secret struggle. All the while this brave man fought against fate to keep them together. But he must have known that his was a losing battle; and the knowledge must have wrung his heart.

Some of the officers were lucky. Lieutenant Robinson

Brig H. A. Robinson, DSO, MC, ED, m.i.d.; Waipukurau; born New Plymouth, 29 Sep 1912; farmhand; Div Cav 1939–44; CO 18 Armd Regt Mar-Jul 1944; 20 Armd Regt Mar-Oct 1945; twice wounded.

was taken on a liaison trip with the Navy. He did an extensive patrol of the Eastern Mediterranean and was present at the bombarding of Sollum on the night of 17 September. Captain Wallace, too, went on a month's visit to 7 Armoured Division and, whilst there, on the night of 22 August, went out on a fighting patrol with the Coldstream Guards against an Italian working party at Bardia.

The regiment suffered its first casualty from enemy activity on the last day of October. In an air raid on Qasaba, near Baggush, the Regimental Quartermaster, Captain Foster,

Capt W. J. Foster, ED; Te Kauwhata; born Te Akatea, 21 Oct 1890; farmer; wounded 31 Oct 1940.

suffered numerous superficial wounds from bomb splinters. He had the added misfortune to be involved in a motor accident on the way to the CCS

Casualty Clearing Station.

but escaped without further injury.

On the 18th of the same month one of the DRs, Trooper Winsor,

Tpr W. Winsor; born Sydney, 6 Jul 1909; fencing contractor; died on active service 18 Oct 1940.

was involved in a head-on collision with the car of the CRE,

Commander Royal Engineers.

Western Desert Force, and was killed.

During September some pleasure was gained by all ranks at the arrival of eleven new scout carriers. They had an added value, too, in giving the impression that the Divisional Cavalry were not entirely forgotten and that some equipment was at last coming along. These were followed the next month by nine Vickers guns for training and, in December, by two more carriers and two Mark III tanks, fully equipped. Though training was naturally limited by their duties, this equipment did at least stimulate the waning interest of the men. Permission was also given for the limited use of wireless sets, which allowed the training of some driver-operators. In the middle of December the first issue of Ford V8 trucks arrived. These were 15-cwt vehicles to replace the 8- and 15-cwt Morris's then on issue.

At nights the enemy had been busy dropping booby traps along the Line of Communication. Warnings were given against touching such things as cakes of Lifebuoy soap—which would blow the hands off when wetted—and cakes of chocolate or fountain pens, for these would explode when handled. The B Squadron men were walking back from mess one day when a crowd gathered circumspectly round a small black object on the ground. It looked remarkably like a fountain pen. Indeed, it looked even more like one when its owner arrived, picked it up, and marched on.

The booby traps were not all false, however. The Division's first casualty, killed in action, was claimed by a ‘Thermos bomb’. These became alive on hitting the ground. The next time they were disturbed they exploded. Numbers had been dropped round Daba and a demolition squad was detailed to explode them. They did this by rolling them over with LMG

Light Machine Gun.

fire or with a wire rope strung between two vehicles.

It was significant that, as soon as the regiment was detailed to supply pickets on the food dump, the meals in the messes became more varied. New Zealanders are discriminating looters and the Div Cav men were not slow to appreciate that it was impossible to prevent the Arabs from sneaking in from the open desert to pilfer. At the same time the men had their scruples. If a case of tinned milk or tomatoes or sausages—shame on the good Moslems that got the blame—was spirited away on the picket truck, it went straight to the squadron mess; but, if the case were found to contain something unsuitable, it was sent back the next night with full instructions as to where it was to be replaced.

Small wonder then, that the RASC officer in charge of the dump was praying for an air raid as being the only way to account for his losses. But those were the days when New Zealanders were trusted with rations!

By September the weather had become cool enough to think of football. Some games were played, but the desert was rough and hard, and the men's resistance to infection was so low that the inevitable grazed knees and knuckles turned into desert sores, and football had to be abandoned. Hockey was then introduced and the men turned to this with enthusiasm and several teams were made up in each squadron.

A windfall arrived about this time in the form of a shipload of apples, Sturmers from home: lovely, juicy and plentiful. Most valuable they were towards general health, and for once in history men were encouraged to eat even while standing on parades.

At the end of October 1 Battalion, Infanterie de Marine, took over the last of the six defensive positions. They borrowed a few personnel to give instruction on Bren-gun and carriers. All this had to be carried out through interpreters, but any trouble to the lucky few was more than made up to them by the enthusiasm and hospitality of their pupils.

With some of the daytime duties relieved by the French, more training could be done. Courses were arranged for the driver-operators and some of the driver-mechanics. Musketry and machine-gun practices were fired and squadrons found time for a few manoeuvres. Sun-compasses had been issued, but each time a manoeuvre was arranged to try them out, the day became overcast.

In the middle of November, the moon being suitable, enemy air activity increased. Fuka got most of the attention but Daba had plenty of alarms. These were caused, it would seem, because the headland nearby, Ras el Daba, was being used as a navigational point. One night, 16 October, Daba also came in for attention. Bombs were dropped but caused neither damage nor casualties as the nearest one landed 400 yards from the tent-lines.

The Wavell offensive opened on 9 December 1940 with attacks on the line of camps south of Sidi Barrani. The Italians were surprised and at Nibeiwa a large number of M11 tanks were taken more or less intact. The Divisional Cavalry was called on to salvage these, and on 15 December Lieutenant H. A. Robinson took a party of twenty-five other ranks up there for the task.

On the first Christmas Eve overseas, the CO and his RHQ officers embarked on a ‘goodwill’ tour of the regiment. Having escaped from the sergeants' mess, they set out round the squad- ronsquadron canteens. The CO had little to say as his conversation everywhere was limited to practically one remark: ‘No, I've still got this one, thanks.’ The following morning, at the Christmas service, the hymns were sung with plenty of vigour even if, here and there, the tune was completely ignored. At the regimental parade afterwards, the Colonel added to his Christmas wish the comment that he considered that the ‘Merry Christmas’ had been in full swing the night before.

On the whole, Div Cav did not like Daba. Certainly Daba did not like Div Cav. The year ended with a show of hatefulness by the weather. Throughout 30 December the wind blew from the west, strong and very cold. It raised the dust till visibility was nil. Men went to ground in their tents. They often crawled, fully clad, into their blankets for warmth. Exercise was impossible. There they sat in abject misery, watching with apprehension the tent roof as it bellied lower and lower with the weight of dust that accumulated, whilst the stout bamboo poles groaned under the load.

Suddenly, towards evening, all was still. Rain began to fall. The desert weather never does things by halves. On 26 November there had been a downpour like a cataract which had flooded tents, weapon pits, everything. This time it fell as heavily, but not for so long. Only enough rain fell to turn everything to a sea of mud: horrible, thick, creamy mud that could have drowned a man.

On 12 January the same spiteful weather rose to a farewell climax. Again from the west came the punishing wind and the dust to imprison every man in his tent. The penetrating power of that dust is hard to imagine. That day the dust, quantities of it, blew into everything. It was impossible for men to go to mess. It had been impossible anyhow for the cooks to prepare a meal. In their tents the men opened the first tins of Christmas cake they had ever had from home: and it can well be believed that those cakes were precious. Time after time a cake tin with a soldered lid was opened and the contents found to be packed tight with dust, which had not only blown through the crimped seams of the tins but had impregnated the very cakes themselves.

There were men out in all this, for the wheeled vehicles were on their way to Helwan. After passing Amiriya, the convoy was held up for two hours with visibility nil and the men had to sit out the storm as best they could. To get breathable air they wrapped woollen scarves round and round their heads. Noses became blocked with dust, and all the while a layer of thirsty, arid dust stole precious moisture from their lips.

In any of the regiment's moves the DRs suffered most, as witness the war diary for that day, which reads: ‘… and at one place when one of them had a slight collision with the back of a vehicle, ten others piled up on top of him. Luckily no one was hurt and all were surprised to find how close they had been to each other.’

Few of the original regiment will forget Daba's farewell of hate.

CHAPTER 3 C Squadron with the Second Echelon

So far in this story the collective term ‘the regiment’, though convenient, has not been strictly correct since there was another squadron yet to join its ranks. But, for the sake of continuity, it has been necessary in the meantime to forget C Squadron. From the birth of the regiment until it was due to embark for its baptism of fire in Greece, this squadron led, by force of circumstance, a totally different and separate existence.

Virtually C Squadron came into being at the same time as the rest of the regiment, that is, when it was decided to adopt the British establishment. It had been decided not to train the whole regiment together but to hold one squadron in New Zealand to sail with the Second Echelon.

From the point of view of the building-up of a unit spirit under one leader this was an unfortunate decision, as the two different sections were bound to build up their esprit de corps severally and to attain efficiency by different means.

The first CO realised this and took what steps he could, while still in New Zealand, to have C Squadron made up to strength and join his command, but without success. Unfortunately this took up practically all his spare time and left him little chance to ensure all possible liaison with the nucleus of that squadron, at the time in camp, quite close, at Narrow Neck.

This was doubly unfortunate because, as a result, when after eighteen months of a more exciting, more interesting, and indeed a more enviable life, C Squadron was eventually united with its parent unit, the mark of the eventual weld still remained until obliterated by the annealing fires of battle.

As far as C Squadron itself was concerned, the decision to keep it separate was fortunate, for as things turned out, the men fared far better in training facilities and experienced one of England's most delightful summers in many years, whilst the others were burning out their souls in envy and their bodies in the heat of the desert. While C Squadron had the Battle of Britain at its doors the others languished in that ‘Forgotten Legion’ atmosphere of impatience.

From October till the end of 1939 Major Nicoll had most of his officers and NCOs with him at Narrow Neck. In that time they were able to complete courses in such subjects as tactics and gas, they were inoculated and vaccinated; indeed, they had the great advantage of being able to get over their own growing pains without having at the same time to spoon-feed a large family of recruits.

After Christmas leave, the regiment having sailed, these men returned to Narrow Neck, and on 4 January they were moved to Papakura where they were joined, eight days later, by the drafts of recruits who were to complete the squadron.

It is unnecessary to describe in detail their early days in camp, or for that matter, very fully, their trip to England. One mobilisation camp is much the same as another and this was no exception. Memory now brings back only the inevitable queues—in alphabetical order—foot drill and small-arms training, more queues, gas and bayonet training. They lived in a more comfortable camp than had the others and had fewer interruptions in the training programme; the six Bren carriers were sent up to them from Hopu Hopu and, once again, were the subject of pride and envy, representing at the time, it was understood, the sum total of the AFV strength in the country.

By the end of three months the men could march reasonably well; they could shoot; they were fit and were beginning to look forward to the day when they would be joining the rest of the regiment in Egypt. Like all other New Zealanders they had at the back of their minds that impatient fear that the war would collapse before they had had a chance to strike a blow. By the middle of March these thoughts, becoming more evident, were engendering a daily crop of rumours concerning the date of sailing. All ranks were given final leave from 13–15 to 27–29 March, and this served to aggravate the rumours since it came well before the date of departure.

The actual date narrowed down, however, to one of a few days when all troops from Papakura were taken to Auckland for a farewell parade. This took the same form as that of the First Echelon. There were speeches and a lunch at the Auckland Domain and the troops marched through the streets to the waterfront. When they arrived there they were dismissed for the remainder of the afternoon.

Auckland was enthusiastic in its desire to show a last hospitality to the men, some of whom were bound never to return, and they were hard pressed to do justice to the number of drinks offered to them. The result of this enthusiasm was evident when the time came to march back to the train. Slightly more time than usual seemed to be needed for the parade to fall in. In due course this was achieved and it speaks well for their discipline that, in spite of sometime embarrassing hospitality, the men marched steadily and at attention. But civilians are not covered by Army Act, Section 40; beyond being impressed by well-drilled soldiers, ‘good order and military discipline’ means nothing to them. Since the soldiers were not allowed to break ranks the civilians made up for it. The crowd broke and joined in on the flanks, and in next to no time the ranks of three had swollen into anything up to ranks of ten, all linked arm in arm. So they proceeded triumphantly along the streets, not marching so much as dancing a high-spirited jig suggestive of the crowd in the Cornish floral dance.

Embarkation was set down for 1 May at Wellington. This was supposed to be very secret but, with big ships in Wellington for some days previously, it was impossible to hide the fact. Indeed, the Div Cav men already knew that they were to travel on the Aquitania. Secrecy concerning the journey by train to Wellington was equally a farce. There were strict instructions that no one was to leave the train on the way down, and in fact the blinds of the carriages were supposed to be drawn while the train passed through stations. But what was the use? They left Papakura during the morning and all the way down the main trunk line—at Frankton, Taumarunui, Taihape and Marton—there were tea and cakes set out for the men on trestles on the station platforms, and great banners had been tacked up along the station buildings: ‘Farewell 2nd Echelon’ or ‘Goodbye and Good Luck’.

In the early hours of 1 May the train was drawn on to the wharf at Wellington and men began to embark on the Aquitania. This was completed in daylight and the big ship pulled out into the harbour and dropped anchor. With the Aquitania were the three sister-ships, the Empresses of Britain, Canada and Japan. These four carried all the troops from the North Island, and after waiting till about midday on 2 May for the Andes, with the South Islanders aboard, escorted by HMS Ramillies, they formed up in convoy and steamed out into Cook Strait.

C Squadron was not so fortunate as the rest of the regiment who had had a ship to themselves. The Aquitania carried the Maori Battalion, a field company of Engineers, a company of ASC, and a battery of 5 Field Regiment as well as the Div Cav squadron. She was a big ship, and though there was not room to do much more than some PT, the troops were really not badly crowded.

After the Tasman crossing the convoy was joined by the Queen Mary and the Mauretania carrying an Australian contingent, and the convoy turned to pass through Bass Strait into the South Australian Bight.

Having arrived at Fremantle on 9 May the men on board the Aquitania found that there were disadvantages in travelling on such a large ship. Her draught was too great to allow her to tie up at the wharf so that all on board had to suffer the disappointment of seeing others going ashore in a port whose reputation for hospitality had come back in glowing reports from the First Echelon. This sense of frustration was increased by the fact that, tied up alongside them, was a fine Dutch tanker with broad decks which could have ferried them ashore. They had approached her master, a friendly smiling man, but he had pointed out that to carry troops in British uniform would be violating his neutrality. He had therefore most reluctantly declined to help. But the following morning he was equally as eager to take the men ashore. Overnight, Germany had unwittingly intervened on their behalf: Hitler's armies had begun their invasion of the Lowlands.

However, he had now no need to help because the men were ferried ashore by harbour craft. Fremantle proved every bit as hospitable as it had been to the First Echelon, turning itself once again en fête. Any New Zealander who tasted a farewell from that city will remember it all his life. By his claims, one Div Cav man must have tasted well, for he declared that Fremantle got him drunk three times and sober twice that day.

Re-embarking in the evening produced, of course, the inevitable occasions of self-adjusting confusion, in personnel and, as usual, in headgear; and, sailing out into the Indian Ocean, many were the wistful smiles cast back towards Western Australia.

Some of the Div Cav officers, anticipating their tasks in the desert, were taking the opportunity of learning what navigation they could from the ship's officers. These amateur navigators arrived on deck on 16 May to find the sun rising on the wrong side of the ship. The convoy had changed direction overnight! Many rumours — mostly wild — immediately sprang to life. Naturally they were all inspired by the war news and mostly they centred round enemy raiders and submarines. The Ger- mansGermans, one would hear, had opened an offensive in the Ardennes and had broken through over the Meuse—quite true; Italy, one learned, was on the point of declaring war against the Allies and therefore her bases in Eritrea would be ideal points from which to attack a convoy of such valuable prizes as these; and so on. It was now certain, however, that the convoy was heading for Capetown. A fortnight later the arrival there of this convoy, including as it did the Aquitania and the Queen Mary, caused quite a sensation, especially since the German radio had just announced to South Africa that these same ships had been sunk in the Indian Ocean. The sudden change of plans caused but one minor discomfort: because of the extra week's steaming, water had to be rationed until the convoy reached Capetown.

Here, as at Fremantle, the Queen Mary and the Aquitania drew too much water to tie up inshore, and for three of the four days' stay in Capetown the men could do nothing but gaze with envious eyes on the smaller ships and imagine the pleasure that they were missing ashore. They did, however, manage one day's leave. Owing to the swell that had been coming up Table Bay it had been impossible to take them ashore by lighter, but on the last day the two ships sailed round to False Bay and anchored in water smooth enough for lighters to land them at Simonstown.

With little else to occupy their minds at Capetown the men readily listened to another crop of wild rumours. The strongest of these was to the effect that the troops would be disembarked and taken to camps in South Africa for six weeks, and then would travel overland to the Middle East. Most rumours centred round disembarkation, due no doubt to the wishfulness of the ship's crew who, one and all, deplored the thought of their beloved Aquitania threading her way among all the U-boats lying in wait especially for her along the route to England.

But it turned out after all that England was the final destination and the convoy sailed north again on 31 May. A new atmosphere seemed to settle down overnight. One day the war seemed to be safely on the other side of the world and the next day it seemed to be all round them. A feeling of suppressed excitement was diffused through everybody, the feeling that a boy gets when, with his pads on, he is waiting in the pavilion to go out and play his first innings for the school, or of the competitor, all keyed up, in the show ring waiting for the judge to call the number of the next horse to go round the jumps. The war had indeed come closer.

The last port of call before entering the North Atlantic was Freetown in Sierra Leone. This was the assembly place for many convoys and the harbour seemed full of a thousand ships, all kinds and sizes. Other than that, there remain now only the memories of the natives in their bumboats and of four nights in the humid, stifling, tropical heat.

As it left Freetown the convoy was joined by an aircraft carrier, HMS Hermes, and as it drew north it was met by more and still more men-of-war. First came majestically HMS Hood from Gibraltar, and daily, in ones and twos, came cruisers and destroyers, until in the Bay of Biscay it seemed that the whole British Navy was there, sailing in a solid screen of guns and steel. One felt rather like the first lamb of spring with half a dozen motherly old ewes fussing round, all claiming to have given birth to the one offspring.

Just as the war seemed to have come suddenly closer, now suddenly it came closer still, for the ships found themselves sailing through a sea dotted with flotsam. There were rolls of newsprint, bits of spars, deck-chairs, biscuit tins, all kinds of litter and rubbish; here, right in the mouth of the English Channel, a convoy ahead had been attacked. There had been more than one casualty. On the horizon ahead was a column of black smoke. This turned out, on drawing closer, to be a tanker, settled low down in the water and blazing furiously. It can well be imagined that hardly a soul who saw this did not rehearse mentally the crash of a torpedo against his own ship and his reaction to it. Those who did not rehearse soon had occasion to do so. The convoy had its own U-boat scare. One minute there was a state of stolid vigilance and the next there were destroyers darting everywhere. Then, as if drawn by a magnet, they all dashed to the one spot and dropped depth- chargesdepthcharges. A kill was certainly claimed but, even without tangible evidence, the concussion of the underwater explosions tightened everybody's nerves like fiddle-strings.

In war there is rarely a tense situation that is not relieved in one way or another. On this occasion the tenseness was relieved by two Irish fishermen in their boat. Their course lay across that of the Aquitania and with native obstinacy they were determined, Cunard Line or no, or the whole British Navy for that matter, that steam would give way to sail—th'was the Oirish Sea anyway—and they held their course. Doggedly they held it, till it seemed that their little cockle-shell would be smashed. But still they sailed on until they forced the Aquitania to make one of those surprising quick swerves that give the lie to that feeling of massive inflexibility of a big ship.

When one reads of young men of German descent who had never known Germany, whose parents even were born in America, who dropped everything at the outbreak of war and took the first boat to their Fatherland, one is inclined to be surprised. But there is a deep affinity between a man and the soil from which sprang his forebears. So too, sailing up the Clyde, there was not a man on the ship of Scottish descent whose blood did not tingle to the tune of the piper playing on the deck; there was not an Irishman aboard, whether or not his ancestors for generations had seen a shamrock in its native land, whose heart did not miss a beat when he woke and caught his first glance of the vivid rich green of the Irish coast; men who had, until now, called England ‘Home’ without quite knowing why, suddenly realised, and realised with deep pride, that it was more than just a loose term; soon they were to gaze with pride and affection at the broad face of what they now knew was their mother country and, with fervour, breathe ‘This is England’.

The arrival of the Second Echelon came at a dramatic and appropriate moment. France capitulated on 17 June and it was a fitting turn of fate that Dominion troops should have arrived at Greenock the day before. Their motherland now stood alone.

But the faces that met the troops were not those of grim doggedness. They wore expressions of warm hospitality and genuine pleasure, as if the British people were flattered that their kinsmen should have just dropped in from the other side of the world on a friendly visit.

The disembarkation ran so smoothly and briskly that there was a delay of an hour or so before the train arrived to take the men to Aldershot.

The first stage of the journey took them to Edinburgh, where they had lunch. Then they moved on again over the border into England and on to York for another meal. Here the train was held up a while by an air raid farther down the line. The excitement caused by this was later doubled when the troops learned that the railway station at York had been bombed not twenty minutes after they had left. Surely they had reached the firing line!

The journey to Aldershot took all the afternoon of the 18th and all that night as well, and they arrived at the station of Ashvale on the outskirts of Aldershot in the early hours of the following morning. They waited in the carriages until dawn and, sending their equipment ahead by lorry, they marched to their camp area at Mytchett Woods.

The area allotted to Div Cav was in the woods themselves in a setting almost arcadian in its loveliness. Tents were pitched among pine trees, up and down which were scuttling little shy squirrels; the ground was covered with a thick aromatic carpet of pine needles; in the mornings men woke to the soft cooing of wood pigeons in the branches above them. It is not surprising then that C Squadron, camped in such surroundings during what turned out to be the finest summer in forty years, was the subject of bitter envy by the rest of the regiment, who were just beginning to feel, and feel acutely, the discomforts of their first brazen Egyptian summer.

As with all the Dominion troops in England, the squadron was granted general leave. The War Office had ordered this with the object of quickening civilian morale before Britain had fully measured the disaster of Dunkirk and realised to the full her loneliness.

Dominion troops were encouraged to travel as far afield as possible so that people could see their unfamiliar uniforms and feel heartened to know that here were reinforcements, fresh and ready and keen to meet the invasion which loomed so threateningly close across the Channel.

New Zealand troops were very highly regarded in England, and when General Freyberg pressed for it, they were equipped as fully as possible with what scanty material was available. The Divisional Cavalry were fitted out with their full-scale establishment of vehicles and practically all their weapons. The next step was to get them out and amongst the countryside where they could be seen and discussed. The light tanks on issue were Mark VI type, and for driving instruction in these, five instructors, an officer and four sergeants, were borrowed from a neighbouring RTR

Royal Tank Regiment.

depot. These NCOs were amazed to find their pupils, according to their standard, so versatile, for they were used to recruits who had never driven in their lives. They were not expecting pupils who—most of them—had handled tracked vehicles on their farms at home. So they were somewhat surprised to find that their classes could short-circuit the first lessons with a few pertinent questions, climb into the driving seats, and straight away drive off round the field. By the end of the first hour's instruction, instead of a week as was usually expected, the tanks were out of the gates and rolling merrily along the road.

The officer attached to the squadron was a major from 4/7 Dragoon Guards who had fought with the BEF back to Dunkirk and who lectured the officers with first-hand information on the working of divisional cavalry in battle. Their first battle experience turned out to be similar rearguard actions in Greece.

A gloom was cast over the squadron when, on 24 August, during a training run with the Bren carriers, a man on the roadside threw himself under one of the carriers to commit suicide. Fortunately no blame was attached to anyone in the squadron.

With the invasion of Britain seeming imminent, General Freyberg had flown to England from Egypt and organised the New Zealanders there on a divisional basis. They carried out manoeuvres more or less weekly and, owing to the state of preparedness in the country, these were the more valuable for their realism; it was on these manoeuvres that C Squadron learned priceless lessons in working in closed country.

The New Zealand Force was honoured by visits from His Majesty King George VI, Mr Churchill, and Mr Eden on 6 July, and also, three days previously, from Lord and Lady Bledisloe.

During the morning of the King's visit there was a parade and march past and, during the afternoon, His Majestty visited individual units. His call on Div Cav lasted some time and, because of the danger of air raids, was designed to give maximum dispersion. As a result he spoke personally with quite a few of the men. To one trooper in particular with whom he spoke this was a triumphant afternoon. The trooper had approached Major Nicoll previously and asked him how he would address His Majesty if he should speak to him. The Major treated his worries as a joke and refused to offer any suggestion. Repeatedly he assured him that he need not worry as there was no chance that the King would single him out for intimate conversation. Imagine then the man's triumphant sidelong glance at the Major when the King did pick out this particular trooper to speak to. No eyes ever said more significantly, ‘There, I told you so’.

On 27 August the New Zealand Force was moved into the south of England near the coast. Here manoeuvres took on a still greater aura of realism, so much so that the men never knew whether they had been turned out on a training exercise or whether the invasion had really started. It was generally accepted that the German invasion would come in a weekend, so at the end of each week the General, determined to be in the fighting, would march all his troops down to the coast to meet it: just in case.

The New Zealanders were moved permanently into Kent in the first week in September. It being now late autumn and the weather getting colder, billets were found for the squadron in the village of Westwell.

In this village they have left their mark in perpetuity. There is a very old inn there known as ‘The Wheel’. According to custom, the sign of the inn, a wheel, hung on the outside wall. This wheel was painted red. One evening someone remarked that ‘The Wheel’ had consumed so much of the squadron's pocket money that Div Cav should have by now bought at least one of the spokes in it. This remark caught the imagination of the innkeeper, a bright soul, who decided, in honour of the New Zealand Divisional Cavalry, that he would paint one of the spokes in their regimental colour, green. Nor did he do things by halves, for he approached the owners of the building and had them draw up a legal agreement that at all times their tenants shall keep the wheel painted red with one green spoke.

His act is of historical interest when it is realised just how old the inn is. It has provided hospitality to the defending troops of three threatened invasions of England—the Armada, Napoleon's and Hitler's—while that part of England has suffered three invasions—by Julius Cæsar, the Vikings and William the Conqueror.

Westwell, typical of any English village, could not but impress its character on men from a young country, for that character is carried in its elegant age. The church on one side of the village square was originally built by the Normans and still stands in an atmosphere of age, with an air of solidity. The countryside bears the same temper as its inhabitants: quiet, patient men. The very buttercups in the fields, just in the way they grow, bring one to realise that in the time of King Alfred they were past remembering how long they had been patiently growing, flowering, fading away, year by year. Just across the road from the billets was a tiny stream operating a little old mill. The mill had been mentioned in the Doomsday Book. The stream itself is symbolic of the countryside and the people. It flows quietly and gently and with the same patience that can be read in the gait of the farmer following the plough on the hillside beyond.

Throughout September and October the squadron carried out training. This was mainly in exercises near the coast, with the daily air battles overhead as the Nazi raiders passed on their way to London or were shot down or turned back en route.

By 11 November the squadron was back in Aldershot. This time it was sent to Farnham, where it was grouped round Swanthorpe House. The officers lived in the house itself and the men were billeted in cottages and Nissen huts in the grounds. Life, with winter setting in, was made as comfortable as possible for them. Heaters were made available and there was an abundance of hot water.

They had done no proper parade-ground training since they were in Papakura, so they settled down to smarten up in preparation for a possible spring offensive. Other training that they did here was in camouflage and concealment, which was to stand them in good stead in Greece before six months had passed.

Until now all ranks had been particularly conscious of the advantages that they held over the rest of the regiment, but with the passing of the summer, and with it the Battle of Britain, the possibility of a German invasion had receded. Then General Wavell's offensive opened in Egypt and C Squadron had its turn of being envious of the parent unit, now so close to the fighting. The Third Echelon had arrived in Egypt and it looked as if the Second Echelon, so long expecting to be the first to be blooded, would miss. Little did C Squadron realise of the despair of the Div Cav men in Egypt languishing in the dust at Daba and feeling that they were destined never to see an enemy facing them.

As a matter of fact it was just at this time that plans were being made to reunite the whole Division. A short while before Christmas all the New Zealanders in England were granted leave. This was completed in time for every man to be back in his billets by Christmas Day. They had taken full advantage of this and disappeared over the length and breadth of England and Scotland.

The weather in 1940 did not come up to expectations and provide a traditional white Christmas. Instead it supplied a cold, raw, grey day. At dinner the men were issued with a rum ration and given free beer. This put them in a wonderful humour and they sang throughout the meal.

Two days later came the official news that the Force was going to Egypt. This was not unexpected as an advanced party had left a month before. On 31 December the OC left to board the transport Duchess of Bedfored at Newport. Over New Year men packed their kits and prepared their personal gear for the trip. Vehicles were handed back to an Ordnance depot at Aldershot and the squadron was ready to leave. It arrived on board ship on Saturday, 4 January 1941, and put to sea at 11.30 a.m. the following day.

As part of the convoy was delayed in the Bristol Channel the Duchess of Bedford spent a few days anchored at Belfast. This delay lasted until the following Sunday, when they raised anchor in the early morning. By daylight they were well at sea.

The Duchess of Bedford is a smaller ship than the Aquitania and, carrying about the same number of troops, her accommodation was fairly crowded. The first part of the trip was marked by a certain amount of illness. The approach of winter in England had affected the squadron, and followed by an outbreak of measles on the ship, things were rather uncomfortable for a while. Then a general inoculation of TAB

Typhoid A & B.

which affected the majority of the men added further to their discomforts. However, by the end of the first week the weather was getting warmer and everybody seemed to brighten up considerably.

They arrived at Freetown on 25 January to witness a spectacular display by the anti-aircraft guns of their escort. A French plane from Dakar, of unhappy memory, flew over the port and was given a lively reception. It is not surprising that enemy aircraft paid attention to Freetown at that time as the port had become a starting place for many Atlantic convoys and was usually very crowded. Indeed, when the New Zealanders arrived there were, at a conservative estimate, over ninety ships in the harbour.

The weather was very hot and close and, with anti-malarial precautions ordered—unnecessarily as it was afterwards learned —everybody spent four miserable nights trying to sleep, if sleep they could, in the hot and steamy atmosphere below decks. Had it been known that this was not the malarial season it may well be imagined that some vituperative signals would no doubt have passed between the New Zealanders' ships. Sufficient to say that everyone was glad to be away from Freetown and to be back at sea, where at least some draught could reach below decks from the ventilators.

It took ten days to travel from Freetown to Capetown. During that time there was nothing of particular interest to do since practically all the available space on the ship had to be used for PT; and this was merely sufficient to keep the men reasonably fit. So they spent their days in a leisurely manner, reading and writing or playing occasional deck games. The escorting cruisers enlivened one day for them by staging a live-round shoot.

On arriving at Capetown on 8 February Div Cav found that this time they were more fortunate in their transport. The Duchess of Bedford, which drew less water than the Aquitania, was able to tie up, so the men were able to stretch their legs ashore. Major Nicoll took advantage of the four days in the Union to give his squadron route marches. From two o'clock till midnight he gave them leave ashore and, on the whole, their behaviour was good, except for minor breaches by the inevitable few who were late back to the ship.

On 12 February the troops began the last stage of their trip to the Middle East. Here it was that the Navy seemed to the uninitiated soldiers to be very confident of their mastery of the sea. One by one the escorting cruisers left the convoy until, approaching the Gulf of Aden, indeed right in sight of the coast of Eritrea, there was only one cruiser left. At the same time the speed of the ships was reduced and it was not until the morning of 3 March, well up the Red Sea, that Egypt could be seen on both sides. After nine weeks at sea there was nobody who was not glad to be packing his kit and nobody was displeased when, in the middle of the afternoon, the ships dropped anchor off Port Tewfik.

CHAPTER 4 The Regiment United

Helwan camp was on the same plateau as Maadi Camp, on the east side of the Nile and about ten miles farther south, that is about twenty miles from Cairo. When the troops arrived there back from the desert they raised their favourite grouse about being the unfortunates who always had to break in the new camps for others to enjoy. But all the same they were well pleased to be there and looked forward to a period in a base camp with its prospects of leave at nights, its more regular routine, the inevitable reunions, and a hundred and one other pleasures that had been denied them for six months.

No man could hide his pleasure when he saw the quarters that were waiting for him. For the first time in the regiment's experience the men were accommodated in wooden huts. At first, as their huts had not been completed, the officers were in tents but they moved in as their quarters became available.

Then came another pleasure: the issue of battledress and berets. It seems strange now to realise that well over a year of the war had passed before some of the troops actually saw battledress. The issue was welcome to the men, who had worn nothing but khaki drill with jerseys right through the cold part of the year. The first occasion on which the regiment wore battledress was for church parade on 18 January. The berets were issued not as official headgear, but with instructions that they were only to be worn to keep grease and dust out of the hair during maintenance or whilst driving in the desert. But it was a foregone conclusion that they were soon to become the headgear of the Div Cav, and indeed its distinguishing mark in the Division. Nostalgia over the old slouch hats was gone for ever.

Within a day or so a training syllabus was drawn up. Leave into Cairo was once again a daily feature. Men were allowed to draw their cameras, base kits were issued, and once again routine settled down to that of a base camp.

During December the Reinforcement Depot had been split up. Part of this had been formed into the Composite Training Battalion which carried reinforcements and training cadres for the Div Cav, Engineers and Signals. Major H. G. Carruth had been seconded as its OC. The regiment sent down a cadre of some fifteen other ranks and, in their places, the first members of the regiment to come back from the LRDG were marched in.

At the same time there came happy news from the LRDG. It had fought the action at Ain Dua and two of the Div Cav men in the unit had been decorated: Lieutenant J. H. Sutherland, MC, and Trooper L. A. Willcox, MM.

Sgt L. A. Willcox, MM; Wanganui; born Hawera, 25 Aug 1918; sawmill hand; wounded 19 Sep 1942.

These men earned the first decorations in the 2nd New Zealand Expeditionary Force. But with this news also came some of a sterner kind. There had been losses. In the attack on Kufra Corporal Beech

Cpl F. R. Beech, m.i.d.; born Picton, 24 Jul 1908; radio engineer; killed in action 31 Jan 1941.

had been killed, Lance-Corporals Roderick

L-Cpl L. Roderick; born Gisborne, 19 Feb 1913; linesman; p.w. 31 Jan 1941; killed in action, Italy, 6 Apr 1944.

and Adams

L-Cpl W. R. Adams; Whangarei; born Auckland, 1 Aug 1918; salesman; p.w. 31 Jan 1941.

taken prisoner, and Trooper Moore

Sgt R. J. Moore, DCM, m.i.d.; Morrinsville; born Te Aroha, 10 Sep 1915; farmhand; twice wounded.

reported missing, believed killed in action. He was later reported safe when, great optimist that he is, he was picked up marching steadily towards Tekro, some 300 miles away. The whole regiment was delighted to hear that he was granted the DCM for this feat.

Much of the training in the six weeks before what turned out to be the Greek campaign was designed in such a way as to draw the maximum enthusiasm from the men. The regimental sports were held on 23 January. Apart from the usual field events, there were driving competitions which turned the day into quite an exciting gymkhana and which contributed handsomely towards increasing the drivers' skill in handling their vehicles.

As the war in the Western Desert now appeared to be over, training tended more towards operations in European conditions. With this type of warfare in view it was necessary to train troops, especially those who would not be able to rely on heavy bridging equipment, to cross rivers. Such exercises, in the joint interests of security and recreation, were disguised as competitions and proved to be full of fun. They were conducted both by day and by night. A backwater of the Nile was chosen which had a high bank that made an excellent grandstand and a list of races was drawn up. The small ‘recce’ boats that were used for canoe races supplied thrills for both competitors and onlookers alike, since they were inclined to be treacherous when being boarded. There were furious races in the big pontoons, and the men were practised in embarking their AFVs and paddling them across. Other units were doing the same thing and, as a climax, a divisional regatta was held in which the regiment competed with a certain amount of distinction.

The Divisional Cavalry also went out on an exercise in the El Saff area. This time they were to act, in conjunction with 27 (Machine Gun) Battalion, as an enemy for 6 Infantry Brigade. The exercise served also to train them in rapid night movement across the desert, and in delaying action against superior but less mobile forces. All this entailed much movement and work and little sleep. The war diary of 30 January reads: ‘… all vehicles experienced great difficulty in climbing out of Wadi Hai as the sand was very soft and, as the enemy were getting close, a lot of hard work was crammed into a short time….’ But the wheeled vehicles did not have all the difficulties for the diary goes on: ‘… it was a hectic night…. the A.F.V. crews also found many obstacles some of which they charged through and some of which they fell into.’ That, the writer thinks, refers to an Arab graveyard; but perhaps the less said about it the better.

By the middle of February it could be guessed that something was afoot for the New Zealand Division. It was at last preparing to go into action. The regiment's establishment, less C Squadron, was made up to full strength on 19 February with a large intake from the Composite Training Battalion. The next week the regiment received advice that instead of its establishment of light tanks it was to be issued with armoured cars, and the following day a number of Marmon-Herrington cars was available for delivery, together with enough Bren carriers to complete the establishment.

The old training tanks, of which eight, mirabile dictu, were still in going order, were driven down to Maadi and handed over to the Composite Battalion, and work was begun preparing the new vehicles for action. Weapons and wireless sets had to be fitted, and as each crew was to be self supporting, there were many problems concerning the stowing of bedding and rations whilst not impairing the fighting efficiency of the vehicles. Some of the senior officers paid a visit to the headquarters of 11 Hussars at Abbassia, who were equipped with armoured cars and who helped considerably with suggestions from their own experience in action.

At the RAC

Royal Armoured Corps.

School at Abbassia several films were shown to members of the regiment. The nature of these might have given some indication of the intended destination of the Division, but nobody guessed. There were films on ‘The Infantry Company in a Defensive Position’, ‘How Prisoners of War are Questioned’, and ‘Methods of Extracting a Bogged Vehicle’. A very appropriate day was chosen to show this last film, for during the previous night there had been an exceptionally heavy fall of rain which had tried the roofs of the huts to well past their limits, and the scenes inside the huts had been reminiscent of Ngaruawahia days when everybody kept a groundsheet handy.

It would perhaps be wise at this juncture to outline the establishment of the Divisional Cavalry Regiment. It consisted of three fighting squadrons, each of some 110 men, and a Headquarters squadron of about 140, all under a Regimental Headquarters.

Up until now the Divisional Cavalry had formed and trained as two separate entities, but C Squadron after nearly eighteen months had finally arrived. Until that day the only man who knew the whole of the regiment well, indeed, who did not regard C Squadron as some sort of a myth, was the General himself. So 5 March, the day that C Squadron turned up at Helwan, was a red-letter day—the regiment was at last united under one command.

Naturally it took some time for the men to get to know each other and to make new friendships, and many a tale was told and retold. The ‘Desert Languishers’, who up to this time had not actually seen an enemy, learned with envy how the ‘Cook's Tourists’, even if they had not been actually engaged, had at least smelt powder; while they on their part, who had spent all this time under the temperate skies of England, were now only too eager to take up and wear ‘the shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun’ of Africa. All were now tingling with excitement and anticipation that, at long last, they were all going into the real thing—and going in together.

When C Squadron turned up it had some difficulty in getting its equipment unloaded before the regiment moved to the assembly area at Amiriya and Major Nicoll had to make a fast trip to Suez on 12 March to hurry things along.

The Divisional Cavalry was due to sail to Greece (although they did not then know their destination) with the fourth flight, so by the time all the new equipment had been issued and the regiment was ready to move from Helwan, many units were already there. The regiment left Helwan on the morning of 13 March, the carriers with crews going by rail from Helwan station and the balance by road convoy.

The Western Desert, at any time notoriously temperamental, seemed to have worked up a full-sized hate at this persistent intrusion of its domains from which, only a couple of months earlier, it had staged a punishing and painful send-off. Once again the desert turned on a sandstorm such as happily is seldom found outside these regions. The dry, scorching wind swept in vicious gusts of incredible violence to carry enormous quantities of sand which permeated everything. Visibility was reduced to nil and everything had to stop. There were, in fact, instances of men actually getting lost in moving from one vehicle to another. Once again the DRs had to suffer most of all and only twelve of them managed to arrive with the main party. The remainder practically all experienced the same breakdown: sand forced itself into the carburettor slides, jamming them, and the machines had to be picked up by the LAD. At the height of the storm the water cart ran off the road and capsized, injuring one man who had to be sent to hospital.

Another wretched trick the sandstorm played was on the armoured cars. The myriads of bone-dry particles of sand, so our scientists told us, constantly bombarding the steel sides of the vehicles gradually built up within them an extremely high electric charge. The cars, insulated from the ground by their rubber tyres, acted as huge condensers and stored this charge. The crews inside were of course unaffected, but there was a case where one man walked up and touched a car, which immediately released its charge, knocking him flat on his back. This storm persisted continuously for two days and only abated by the time the vehicles began to marshal for loading on board ships.

At Amiriya there was a Naafi tent next door to the RHQ area. These establishments were staffed by members of the local population especially selected for their intelligence and integrity. This Naafi did enormous trade for a while, but during the evening of 15 March it caught fire. This was neither the first nor the only time a Naafi tent was burned down. By coincidence other Naafis have suffered the same fate; and by coincidence, this usually happened while troops were moving out of the area; and, strongest coincidence of all, they were always de- stroyeddestroyed whilst holding much money. It is a consoling thought, however, that the staff, sleeping right against the seat of the fire, always managed to save themselves and every stitch of their personal gear. But the cash was invariably destroyed. The nearest unit would be blamed and there the matter would rest. But what will you? C'est la guerre!

At this stage nobody was interested enough to ponder over the destruction of a mere tent. In everybody's minds and on their lips was speculation on where they were bound. Rumours from the most authentic and ‘confidential’ sources followed one another in rapid sequence of complete contradiction, though, as usual, the correct one was the last and outlived all others.

The vehicles were loaded by 16 March and the personnel of the regiment were warned to be on the train at Ikingi Maryut by 2 a.m. on the 18th. They arrived in the Alexandria docks at 4.30 a.m. and embarked on the Greek ship Ionia, which was also carrying the Australian 2/1 Battalion. By 3.30 p.m. they were at sea.

Once on the water, sealed orders were opened and a message was read from the General to all ranks. This message confirmed the last of the rumours. The regiment was on its way to Greece.

The principal appointments were as follows:

Commanding Officer Lt-Col H. G. Carruth Second-in-Command Maj A. J. Nicoll Adjutant Capt W. R. Pigou OC A Squadron Maj J. F. Potter Second-in-Command Capt J. R. S. Sealy OC B Squadron Maj J. T. Russell Second-in-Command Capt F. W. Horton OC C Squadron Maj E. R. Harford Second-in-Command Capt I. L. Bonifant OC HQ Squadron Capt T. C. Wallace Medical Officer Lt E. Stevenson-Wright, NZMC Padre Rev. H. G. Taylor, CF

* * * * *

The Divisional Cavalry left behind it one broken heart. It was now, with its owner, back in New Zealand. Lieutenant- Colonel C. J. Pierce, MC, was a dying man and his beloved regiment was going to battle without him.

He must have known of his illness for a long time and kept it concealed. It is now obvious that, during the latter half of 1940, he was in constant pain and this must have been aggravated because his malady prevented him from eating much of the hard rations that were issued at the time. All this he suffered stoically and silently. His ‘boys’, noting his frequent visits to Alexandria, used to declare silently that he had some attraction there. He had—the treatment that he was secretly taking. In those desert days, too, he found constant excuse to be off towards the fighting. He was looking for a job for his regiment so that perhaps he could get the chance to end his days the way he wanted: as a fighting man.

Charlie Pierce moulded his command with his own strong character. After his day, many men passed into the ranks of the Div Cav. They all knew the atmosphere of the regiment. Many wondered what it was: it was the spirit of Charlie Pierce. A later medical report on the regiment—part of the MO's routine—says in one place: ‘There has never been any question as to the morale of the 2 NZ Div Cav Regiment. A lengthy story could be told of those who have carried on in the field with wounds, injuries, and diseases ordinarily justifying evacuation.’ A man is like his master. Every trooper lived in constant dread of the humiliation of ‘going back to Base’. That dread they inherited from their first CO.

But time betrayed the man. His ailment became outwardly manifest. He was sent to hospital, and two days later the stunned regiment received the news that he was seriously ill and would be flown back to New Zealand.

There were few of the men who stood on parade listening to such bleak news whose minds did not travel back to his first parade in Ngaruawahia and remember the startled surprise with which they heard the rough, invisible voice—for Charlie was a short man—which roared in one breath: ‘Regiment-will- advance-in-col'mn-o'-route-from-the-right-Headquarters-Squadron leading-QUICK-MARCH!’

His envious and almost tearful farewell to the trooper whom he met in the streets of Helwan on the day of his departure— the very day that his regiment was up to full strength for the first time—typified the spirit which he instilled in it for all its life:

‘I'll be back, boy. I'll be back even if they'll only give me the YMCA car to drive.’

Such was Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Pierce: God rest his soul.

GREECE coloured map of Greece

CHAPTER 5 Greece

By 18 March, when the Divisional Cavalry left Egypt, three flights of ships had already taken the greater part of the Division to Greece. When the regiment's turn came it travelled on two ships, the Anglo-Canadian which carried the vehicles with skeleton crews, and the Ionia which took the bulk of the personnel together with the Australian 2/1 Battalion. Both ships were very crowded, but this mattered little as it was a fairly short trip.

The weather remained fair and the sea reasonably calm until the 20th, when the wind became colder and raised a choppy sea. In the middle of the afternoon some dive-bombers suddenly attacked, but there was still ample time to man the light anti-aircraft guns and, when the Anglo-Canadian was sorted out as a first target, the aircraft were greeted one after another with a tremendous hail of small-arms fire and forced to break away. The welcome they received was not to be wondered at for the ship carried as deck cargo two 3-ton trucks loaded with high explosive, whose presence was an incentive in itself to vigorous and accurate shooting. But the convoy did not get away unscathed. One ship, a tanker, was hit and set on fire and had to fall behind under escort of a destroyer.

The following day, 21 March, the convoy arrived at Piraeus harbour and disembarkation began almost immediately. Transport was waiting at the quay to take dismounted personnel to the transit camp at Kifisia.

Here at last the men found themselves once again on the same sweet, clean, green land as their own homes, and just for the sake of it they lay down for a moment on the grass under the young pine trees. Just for the simple joy of it they took off their jackets so that they could actually hang them on a twig. They bathed in the little streams just to be sure that cold water, as it had done since they were children, could still sting their skin.

The Divisional Cavalry saw little of Athens, for even before the vehicles were unloaded orders had been received to move to battle positions in northern Greece. But what little they did see of the city and its people they fell in love with. The popu- lacepopulace appeared all unbalanced, for Athens, it seemed, was completely empty of men between the ages of sixteen and sixty. The young Greek women were beautiful and, though anything but forward, were quite friendly. On the trip north, where the manual labour on the roads was all being done by women, hardly a girl in any gang looked up until the oldest woman did so and smiled. Then, as if by signal, they all smiled and waved.

The various spirits and wines of the country took some learning. There was koniak. Major Russell's warning to B Squadron was alliteratively succinct: ‘Koniak is a rough kind of brandy. It begins with a “k” and ends with a “k” and has a kick with a capital “K” at both ends!’ There was ouzo, a white spirit, innocently smooth to the palate and tasting strongly of aniseed. Some had tried its like in Egypt under the name of zibib. To be drunk on it was to be drunk for days when any kind of liquid was taken: a frightening drink. Then there was the wine of the country, mavrodaphne; red, resinous, neither sweet nor dry. It was rather heady, indeed extremely so when taken as the beer-drinking New Zealanders did—in great quaffs—much to the surprise of the locals.

Unloading the vehicles went on apace during 23 and 24 March and there were losses on the quayside. Two trucks were written off, one when an armoured car slipped back out of its sling into the hold, suffering some damage, and the other when a guy rope on a crane snapped and the crane, with an armoured car and a truck in its sling, collapsed on to the quay.

The tracked vehicles, two trainloads of them, and the wheeled vehicles started north on the 25th. En route the uninhibited warmth of the people's good wishes touched the New Zealanders' hearts. Without any effort the Greeks made them feel as if they were about to defend their own soil, for they wished them God-speed with a fervour that should only have been possible to their own kith and kin.

Through towns like Thebes, steeped in history and legend, they passed, and in the great pass of Thermopylae they could almost feel the ghosts of the warriors of Leonidas and Xerxes. Wherever they went and whenever they stopped the men felt the warmth of the Greeks' welcome and blessing.

The original plans for the defence of Greece along her frontier were not adopted, partly because the bulk of the Greek forces was engaged with the Italians in Albania, but mainly because there was no definite indication of the co-operation that could be expected of Yugoslavia. As this could not be regarded as certain and as, without it, there were not enough troops, the British force, with some help from the Greeks, prepared to hold the Aliakmon line. This was a chain of natural

the aliakmon line. the new zealand division's sector, 5 april 1941black and white map of cavalry positions defences running from the mouth of the Aliakmon River, through Veroia and Edhessa, to Mt Kaimakchalan on the Yugoslav border. The New Zealand Division was originally detailed to defend the sector from the sea to the Veroia Pass, but at the same time to be ready either to move forward to add weight to the lighter Greek forces holding the main passes on the frontier or to retire to positions east and west of Mt Olympus.

Thus it could reinforce success if Yugoslavia decided to resist Germany. Subsequent events showed that neither happened. The Yugoslavs were soon overrun and the pressure everywhere had become so great that all thought went towards an orderly retirement. Under these circumstances the Divisional Cavalry was a unit that was extended to its fullest. But that is anticipating the story.

The Aliakmon line was still being built by the Greeks across the rolling country about 12 miles from Katerini. Two New Zealand brigades were now digging in along this line and it was Div Cav's task to patrol forward of it to the Aliakmon River. There it was to make the Division's first contact with the enemy, and after making all crossings impassable, to retire behind the main divisional line.

Forward of the Aliakmon and well north of the Division was the British 1 Armoured Brigade, based on Edhessa. This brigade's job was to carry out delaying actions between the Axios River and the Aliakmon line. To the right of the brigade, up in the hills of the border, was the Greek Cavalry Division. This formation was also to impede any enemy advance and to retire back into the main defensive line, using the route through the town of Servia. Thus Div Cav's interest in the enemy concerned those who advanced through Salonika, and the original plans made no mention of Allied troops forward of the river. Nevertheless, though the rail bridge and all secondary road bridges over the Aliakmon were to be destroyed, the main bridge, facing the road junction at Yidha, was to be left until the very last minute.

On arrival in the Katerini area on 26 March the armoured vehicles were immediately unloaded and camouflaged. Urgent work, and much of it, was required on the carriers to make them battle-worthy, for some of them had done as much as 500 miles in Egypt and they had been rushed forward as soon as they arrived in Greece.

Regimental Headquarters took up a position near the village of Aiyinion and the stretch of the Aliakmon River from there to, and including, the main road bridge became the responsibility of A Squadron. B Squadron covered a similar stretch of river upstream. C Squadron remained in reserve near RHQ.

The large triangle of country between the river and the main divisional line was thoroughly reconnoitred, using as much as possible the armoured cars and some soft-skinned vehicles. The countryside generally caused some misgivings as both that and the roads, to a great extent, were suitable only for tracked vehicles.

Patrols also went forward of the Aliakmon; almost to Salonika; actually to Veroia, and well north to Yiannitsa to make contact with 4 Hussars and the King's Royal Rifles, both part of 1 Armoured Brigade.

Maintenance and reconnaissance kept the regiment fully occupied until 1 April, when orders were received to move forward into proper battle positions, and from then on A and B Squadrons had some 14 or 15 miles of river to watch, from near Aiyinion to the village of Varia, where a secondary road crossed the river. This was considered impassable except at the bridges which, as has been mentioned, had been or were to be destroyed. Over and above such definite orders both Major Potter and Major Russell saw fit to destroy other material. In the A Squadron area, on the near side of the river, there was a large dump of timber suitable for bridge-building. Potter had this burnt. On the B Squadron front, near the secondary road, one of the troop leaders noticed a large crane standing by the far bank. Perhaps it had some connection with a large swamp-clearing contract in northern Greece which had been in the hands of a German firm. Nobody seemed to know. But there the crane stood; by its diary it had only been there a short while. Its control and driving mechanism were mounted unusually high—so high that it could stand in the middle of the river and still work either bank—and it appeared stout enough to handle tanks. It was destroyed with gun-cotton.

* * * * *

As the Armoured Brigade lacked any light armoured vehicles, arrangements were made with the New Zealand Division to send forward two troops of armoured cars from the Divisional Cavalry in exchange for seven cruiser tanks from 4 Hussars. Accordingly, on 4 April the C Squadron cars, under Lieutenants Cole

Maj D. A. Cole, MC; Tikorangi; born NZ 2 Oct 1913; farmer; three times wounded.

and Atchison,

Maj A. C. Atchison; born NZ 30 Aug 1907; farmer; died Clevedon, 25 Jul 1955.

were ordered to report to Brigadier Charrington at Edhessa. Under his command they became the first of the Division to open fire on the enemy. Nor did they fail in this distinction, as we shall see. They suffered losses over the following ten days but these sacrifices were many times

the cole-atchison patrols, april 1941black and white map of cavalry patrols justified. And the tale of their dash and resourcefulness is such that any division would be proud to recount. Cole stood up to close-range fire while a truckload of explosives was turned round right beside him on a narrow, greasy road and while his troop returned machine-gun fire fierce enough to keep the enemy distracted. Atchison and his whole troop, twice in as many days, had to be left behind, written off, and through dogged determination, managed to turn up for more. It will be well to leave the main story for a while to follow these two troops more closely.

Any Yugoslav resistance against Germany was overcome almost immediately, so the responsibility of covering the Monastir Gap, on the border, fell mainly on 1 Armoured Brigade. Atchison's first task was routine patrolling up and down the road to Bitolj in Yugoslavia. On 8 April, when the Germans were approaching the Greek border, he was sent up into the hills due north through Ardhea to watch developments on the Greek Division's front. This was a nerve-racking trip through steep, close country, where to put a wheel over the side of the greasy road could mean a fall of hundreds of feet. Refugees were streaming back, Greek troops were hurrying down the hills to join them, and with gunfire ahead he could see very few places to turn. Radio communication was impossible due to enemy jamming, so having been well forward without making contact, he returned to the most forward platoon of the British troops, where he left two of his cars to give support while he returned to the brigade headquarters to report.

But the German advance down the Axios River valley towards Salonika and Yiannitsa had turned the right flank of the brigade, forcing it to retire. Atchison arrived at Edhessa just as the brigade was leaving and was told to follow it if he could. He raced wildly back for the long 18 miles to withdraw his troop and the infantry platoon, and only just made it under the nose of the German advanced guard.

They managed to snatch about three hours of miserable sleep at the new headquarters at Perdikha before being roused at daybreak to go on a long reconnaissance towards the Albanian border. This was another arduous trip, cold as charity, and it took the troop past the town of Kastoria. Apparently fruitless, it later turned out for Atchison a most fortunate trip. However, we must leave him for a while, doing maintenance on his cars after his return, and pick up Cole's story again.

By the morning of 10 April the enemy had overcome all opposition in southern Yugoslavia and was approaching the border via the roads through Bitolj. Cole was sent forward to protect a detachment of Royal Engineers who were to destroy bridges. The first of these to be chosen was just over the border, so paradoxically, the first New Zealand shots fired in the Greek campaign—and for that matter the first decoration won—were actually in Yugoslavia.

The detachment arrived about 9 a.m. and Cole placed Corporal King's

Cpl J. J. W. King, MM; born Oamaru, 6 May 1917; lorry driver; died of wounds 17 Apr 1941.

car about a quarter of a mile up the road, with his own and Sergeant Sutherland's

Capt W. C. Sutherland; Howick; born NZ 20 Mar 1909; bank officer.

cars closer to the bridge at either side of the road, while the sappers began to prepare the demolition.

It was going to be quite a lengthy task as the bridge was very solidly built of large hewn stones. But the enemy came into sight within twenty minutes. In the lead were several motor-cycle combinations, which were first engaged by King and then by Sutherland when he had backed off a little to gain a better fire position. Cole also backed down a little to observe his troop better. Then the sappers themselves, not unwillingly, as they became available, grabbed rifles and joined in. Presently some enemy vehicles moved up through the motor-cycles, bringing more troops, some mortars and heavy machine guns. The chances of completing the demolition were rapidly fading. The enemy were using explosive bullets and the outsides of the cars were rapidly getting stripped of such things as bedding and tools. Cole noticed that he had even lost some of his wheel-nuts; and his turret had become half jammed. With every hit on the cars the crews were being temporarily blinded by flying asbestos from inside the walls.

When Cole saw infantry deploying to both sides he realised that there was obviously going to be no demolition and he radioed King to draw back, fearing that he would be surrounded. King's reaction was to move forward and engage the enemy even more vigorously, replying that to pull back to the bridge would only concentrate all the fire there of all places, just when Cole had to get the explosives truck turned round in almost full view of the enemy. Cole pulled back close by it to make some cover and then recalled Sutherland to where he could give supporting fire to King, who was almost surrounded. King finally consented to return and everyone moved under cover. Suspecting a trap, the enemy did not advance immediately and thus gave the detachment time to pull out.

They drove back helter-skelter for seven or eight miles before stopping at another bridge, this time a wooden one. The explosives truck had not stopped so they pulled off the railings and stacked them in the middle of the deck, soaked them with petrol, and set them on fire. (Sutherland recalls his great annoyance on this occasion when, having spotted the enemy about three-quarters of a mile away, and having reported this to his troop leader, all the party did was to line up on the bridge while the Engineer officer, a Captain Page,

Royal Engineers.

took their photograph.)

They then drove on a short way and set the next bridge on fire in the same manner, but without the frivolity of taking photographs once the job was done.

Having now gained, so they thought, a good start on the enemy, they were bowling along homewards with more confidence when, at a crossroads a little short of the village of Sitaria, they had a sudden awakening. This shock was mutual to the New Zealanders and to the enemy troops whom they surprised there right on their line of retreat. The enemy were not expecting visitors—not British ones from that direction— and were mainly dismounted and grouped about a culvert enjoying the sunshine. Cole, who was in the lead, pulled up all standing and the two other cars were upon him before he had time to warn them. They all backed off behind a rise to take quick stock of the situation. They were trapped if they did not act pretty quickly for the enemy simply had to turn one vehicle sideways on and they were all ‘in the bag’. But success was the reward of quick wits. Everyone opened fire and they turned the surprise to their own advantage. The enemy troops bolted for their vehicles and made off down the side road whence they had come, while with every gun blazing, the detachment charged the position and was through. And even as they flew by they had the satisfaction of seeing at least four vehicles still standing near the crossroads and of surmising that they had been put out of action.

We must now pick up Atchison's story again. On 11 April he was sent right across into Albania to make contact with the Greek troops there and to make sure that the bridges along the route had been prepared for demolition. Then the next day he was sent back as an escort for some Royal Engineers who were to destroy a particular bridge in Albania. Each of these drives was all of 150 miles through mountainous country and over difficult roads, and they proved most exhausting. However, the work was done without complaining. Atchison even accepted quite complacently the fact that when he was almost back at Perdikha he found that he was now in enemy-held territory, since the brigade had been forced back in his absence and, before going, had blown a bridge. He had been left to work out his own salvation!

This he did. Stoically he turned his troop about and, after picking up all the petrol he could carry from a dump that the enemy had not yet found, he set off to get back through Albania. All that night he led the way through this long roundabout route, hampered all the way by retreating Greek troops and by refugees, and by eight o'clock the next morning, while heading for Grevena, he stumbled upon the brigade's B Echelon. Nor is there any report that he even complained on reporting to headquarters just to be told that they were surprised to see him.

From here on the story of both troops becomes a story of successive rearguards—forward to destroy bridges; back under fire—and of frequent vicious air attacks which cost them two lives: Trooper Risk,

Tpr A. T. Risk; born NZ 16 Aug 1911; truck driver; killed in action 14 Apr 1941.

killed on 14 April, and Corporal King, who died of wounds on the 17th. They fought rearguards covering the Australians' withdrawal, oddly enough in company with the very same tanks for which the two troops had been exchanged by the New Zealand Division in the first place. Gradually the cars were whittled down and the two troops were merged into one under Atchison, while Cole was left to do road patrol work which finally landed him back almost with his own squadron during the parachute attack on Corinth —except that, and perhaps fortunately for him, he was on the wrong side of the canal at the time. Near Thebes, Atchison's movements coincided with those of A Squadron, and from then on until the evacuation his story merges with the squadron's.

* * * * *

From the moment it arrived along the Aliakmon River until the German attack, the Divisional Cavalry was fully employed, not just with intensive reconnaissance but also with preparations. Roads were far from satisfactory, and all available labour was used to improve those from the troop positions. Troop commanders had been ordered to dig in their vehicles and to camouflage them.

Attached to the regiment was Captain Bevan

Maj T. H. Bevan, DSO, m.i.d.; Onehunga; born London, 27 May 1909; builder; Bty Comd 7 A-Tk Regt and 4 Fd Regt; wounded 17 Dec 1942.

with E Troop, 5 Field Regiment, and O Troop of 34 Battery, 7 Anti-Tank Regiment, under command of Lieutenant Patterson.

Lt-Col D. B. Patterson, m.i.d.; Auckland; born Auckland, 30 Nov 1910; assistant architect; 2 i/c 14 Lt AA Regt Apr-Nov 1944; CO 14 Lt AA Regt Jun-Jul 1944; comd Miles Wing, PW Reception Gp (UK), Jun-Sep 1945.

The 6th Field Company, NZE, had sent No. 3 Section (Lieutenant Chapman

Capt St.G. W. Chapman, m.i.d.; Christchurch; born Lower Hutt, 23 Apr 1915; engineering student; wounded 26 Apr 1941.

) forward to take charge of demolitions, and also some small assault boats so that Div Cav could still do a limited amount of dismounted patrolling forward once the bridges were blown.

As wireless silence was imposed the Divisional Signals ran out a telephone line to RHQ from Divisional Headquarters. At the same time Div Cav took the precaution of netting in, on its forward link to squadrons, one of the radios in the cars sent forward to 1 Armoured Brigade. This step was very soon justified for, during the enemy thrust down the Axios River towards Salonika, a crossing of this river was also made just south of the Yugoslav border. The regiment thus had early warning of the advance towards Yiannitsa which turned the right flank of the Armoured Brigade.

It was doubly fortunate that the regimental forward link was used because the OC A Squadron, Major Potter, was thus immediately in touch with the situation, and when the last of the bridges was ordered to be blown he realised the importance of stalling for time as the tanks which were coming in exchange for Div Cav cars were to use this road bridge. They had not yet arrived, and furthermore, so long as the bridge stood, it was an alternative route of retirement should anything occur to block the whole or part of the Armoured Brigade from getting back through Veroia. Potter compromised in the meantime by blowing the railway bridge and, with the personal assurance of Brigadier Charrington that there yet was no danger, coupled with the fact that the ‘exchange’ tanks were definitely coming, he sent forward Lieutenants Robinson and Ward

Capt F. L. Ward; Christchurch; born Blenheim, 21 Aug 1914; student; wounded and p.w. 18 Apr 1941; repatriated Nov 1943.

to guide them in whilst he strengthened his position temporarily with a good strong standing patrol at the far side of the bridge. As well as this, he stood by with the sappers to order the firing of the charge should the worst happen.

This initiative was rewarded by good fortune. The Armoured Brigade got clear by the Veroia route and soon after daybreak on the 9th the tanks arrived.

The bridge was then blown and a temporary wooden structure beside it was hauled down with the help of the tanks. These were then guided back by Corporal Ryan

2 Lt W. J. Ryan; Cambridge; born NZ 6 Jan 1913; grocery manager.

to the headquarters of C Squadron, which was still in reserve near RHQ.

A and B Squadrons could now only wait passively for the enemy to arrive. Refugees were coming back and quite substantial numbers using bullock wagons were fording the river in B Squadron's area. However, they were successfully dissuaded by firing bursts of Vickers gunfire along the river.

Until now the weather had been pleasantly warm and the ground reasonably passable for all fighting vehicles, but on the night of 11 April a heavy rain set in which very soon made the ground far too muddy, particularly in the A Squadron area, to risk leaving armoured cars off the road, as in the likely event of having to disengage at close range, this was going to need brisk movement with no delays. A Squadron therefore had to make a very uncomfortable changeover between carrier and car troops in the middle of the night.

All morning on the 12th, Easter Saturday, the forward troops, well dug in along the riverbank, waited tensely.

Then…. The gunners saw them first…. Along the road from Yidha there was sunlight flashing on some windscreens.

Everybody lay low.

About 2 p.m., led by a group of motor-cycle and side-car combinations, some troop-carrying transport arrived. Not a shot was fired, not a soul moved, until the motor-cycles were right up to the bridge approach. Then suddenly the troop on the right of the road opened up with everything: rifles, machine guns, anti-tank rifles. The range was murderously close and only one of the motor-cycles escaped. There was a lull for a while before sniping began from the enemy side. Again the Div Cav men lay low. They would be provoked into betraying nothing; and the tenseness of the afternoon was kept up by the occasional cracks from the snipers' rifles.

The artillerymen were in the same mood. They wanted good targets or none at all. Just before dark the 25-pounders put down two ranging shots on the road back towards Yidha. And they too remained ready and poised.

After dark the enemy began to build up strength. The Divisional Cavalry waited for the dawn. When they hit they had to hit hard. Until a few days previously the Division had not been far behind them, but with its left flank threatened by the rapid German advance through Yugoslavia, it had been drawn back to positions in the Olympus Pass. The regiment was now the best part of 40 miles out in front and, with instructions not to get too heavily involved, savage fire on sure targets was needed to take the enemy's breath away when the moment came to disengage.

The morning was well advanced before things started to happen. About nine o'clock large lorries came forward from Yidha and the mortars were set up in the open. E Troop engaged them. Shortly after this the Div Cav positions at the near end of the bridge came under fire from guns, mortars and machine guns, but this caused little damage to the troops well dug in under the banks. To begin with it provoked nothing from them until, under its cover, the enemy infantry came down to launch assault boats above and below the bridge. Once the boats were well started, down came a repetition of the previous afternoon's point-blank fire. Nothing escaped it.

Three or four times the enemy attempted these crossings but none succeeded. The guns were by now well into the fight. They steadily engaged mortars and transport and even joined in against the assault boats, landing shells without dropping a single one short, within 100 yards of the regiment. But all the while the pressure became greater. Infantry were working down along the river and armoured troop-carriers were coming forward, though with some superb shooting the guns destroyed two of these at over 9000 yards.

Under cover of the attack on the road bridge site another was threatening further downstream at the site of the railway bridge. This of course also threatened the line of retreat through Aiyinion and so the A Squadron reserve troop was sent forward there. On this front, as everywhere else, the enemy was jamming the radio links. He employed a voice which counted steadily up to ten in perfect English, sometimes ending with provocative or insulting remarks. The temptation itself to reply to these put great strain upon the operators! Potter managed, however, to get in touch with B Squadron and learned that Russell had been ordered to withdraw his squadron even though it had not yet been attacked.

A Squadron held on until Potter was sure that B Squadron was retiring. Heavy fire was now developing against his right flank, while the enemy on his left, at the road bridge, appeared to have had enough. The time had come to pull out. Just after midday the guns were ordered to withdraw and half an hour later the squadron began thinning out, one troop at a time, each coming under fire as it emerged from cover to scuttle back along the road. By four o'clock, with still no enemy across the river, every troop was in position astride the road opposite the ruins of the railway bridge, and an hour later word at last came through from RHQ to be back at Aiyinion within an hour.

Though mud caused some bother getting the armoured cars out, B Squadron disengaged safely as the enemy seemed content to attack along the roads. During the night the squadron had heard plenty of movement towards Veroia and amongst the olive trees across the river. In the morning an enemy reconnaissance plane had been flying up and down the river at tree-top level, but the men were careful not to betray themselves by firing at it.

The retirement was made more or less cross-country to Kolindros and Lieutenant Capamagian's

Maj H. B. Capamagian; born NZ 1 Mar 1905; farmer; died 6 May 1960.

car troop, in preparation for this, had improved a cattle track as an alternative route to the road, as the track was completely covered from air observation. It was not needed, but when Capamagian was clear and looked back to see how the carrier troops were faring, he was surprised to see mortar fire landing right on the track, unoccupied as it was. There had been previous orders that, during action, no Greeks were to be considered friendly. In B Squadron at least these orders had been distasteful, as for some days the men had regularly received from a little boy, fresh milk still warm. But obviously all his village was not so genuinely friendly.

Once B Squadron was clear, Colonel Carruth, who had been forward to assess the pressure on A Squadron, withdrew his RHQ and made room for A to fit in just behind C Squadron, in reserve ahead of the anti-tank ditch. A small misinterpretation arose out of these orders for it was Major Harford

Lt-Col E. R. Harford, DSO, ED, m.i.d.; Waitara; born Nelson, 8 Mar 1904; farm manager; 2 i/c Div Cav Jan-Apr 1942.

who had the responsibility of finally ordering the blowing of the route over the ditch, so Potter took his squadron right behind it. However, he had been hitting at the enemy pretty hard and they were not right on his tail, so C Squadron, in its turn, was able to withdraw and effect the demolitions without any trouble and without the need of cover from A. Oddly enough, a day or two later, exactly the reverse happened through another misunderstanding, though this time A Squadron did not manage to break clear quite so easily.

Having already had his nose thoroughly bloodied, the enemy did not come forward on the 14th with quite as much confidence. During the night there had been quite a lot of noise from tanks and transport mustering behind a low ridge, but this time no motor-cyclists heralded the attack in their nonchalant manner. Indeed, at dawn the first enemy to be seen was ‘George’.

‘George’ had already been so constantly about the place that he had acquired this nickname, reminiscent of the inevitable Egyptian who turned up from nowhere away out in the desert at any halt on a route march, bearing a basket of tangerines on his head. This ‘George’ was a light Henschel reconnaissance aircraft which flew about the place, usually at tree-top level. Though not exactly welcome, he was not the kind of visitor that could be actively dissuaded, for he had a vindictive streak and a lot of Stuka relatives in the Luftwaffe and was also in uncomfortably close contact with them. So he flew about the place: ubiquitous, inquisitive, unwelcomed, vindictive and disliked.

C Squadron, straddling the main road at the anti-tank ditch, now held the forward line, with B Squadron on its left deployed well inland. A Squadron was in reserve, but its two armoured car troops were forward in place of Cole's and Atchison's if needed. Regimental Headquarters was behind C Squadron together with E Troop's guns, which were ready to bring down fire on the main road.

Major Harford sent his Intelligence Corporal forward at 6 a.m. to try to get some warning of the enemy approach. This NCO, Corporal Ryan, went rather too far and, though he was able to report plenty of enemy in Kolindros, he was fired on and very nearly cut off on the way back. Soon afterwards tanks came forward and opened machine-gun fire on the squadron to cover the advance of infantry and the setting up of mortars. As there was no river barrier here to cause the building up of a good target before opening fire, C Squadron had to engage as soon as the first enemy appeared. The Boys anti-tank rifles proved useless against the tanks and their .5 bullets appeared merely to splash off them, but Bren and rifle fire accounted for a lot of infantry who seemed to be armed mostly with Tommy guns. The E Troop guns joined in with some vigour so the squadron was able to hold the position for about two hours. By then Lieutenant Van Slyke,

Maj A. Van Slyke; Waerenga-o-Kuri, Gisborne; born Wellington, 27 Aug 1899; dairy farmer; wounded May 1941.

on the left flank, had reported German infantry working through the scrub between him and B Squadron, and at the same time armoured vehicles of some sort were getting round the end of the anti-tank ditch on the sea shore.

The Divisional Cavalry was too thin on the ground to do much more than delay such an advance, so to achieve this for even two hours was naturally quite satisfying.

B Squadron withdrew first, and the estimating of the time it would take to be clear of the road junction so that C Squadron could follow without pause had to be fairly accurate. The men themselves had to be steady under fire, for once B Squadron was clear, C Squadron needed to disengage suddenly and move quickly back to the next obstacle—this time a culvert which they blew.

It is hard to turn your back on an enemy at close range, for the moment you do so the skin prickles up and down your spine with anticipation. But once having run, it is harder still to turn and face him again.

By ten o'clock, when the enemy was reported to be approaching the blown culvert, word had come down from Divisional Headquarters for the regiment to fall back behind the main divisional positions. This order came down by wireless direct from the GSO I to the adjutant, Captain Pigou.

Lt-Col W. R. Pigou, ED; Spring Creek, Marlborough; born Tua Marina, Marlborough, 18 Apr 1900; farmer; Adjt, Div Cav, May 1940-Jun 1941; Chief Instructor, AFV School, Waiouru, Dec 1941-Dec 1942; CO Otago Mtd Rifles Dec 1942-Jun 1943.

The ‘G.1’ at the time, Colonel Stewart,

Maj-Gen Sir Keith Stewart, KBE, CB, DSO, m.i.d., MC (Gk), Legion of Merit (US); Kerikeri; born Timaru, 30 Dec 1896; Regular soldier; 1 NZEF 1917–19; GSO I NZ Div 1940–41; Deputy Chief of General Staff Dec 1941-Jul 1943; comd 5 Bde Aug-Nov 1943; 4 Armd Bde Nov 1943-Mar 1944; 5 Bde Mar-Aug 1944; p.w. 1 Aug 1944; comd 9 Bde (2 NZEF, Japan) Nov 1945-Jul 1946; Chief of General Staff Apr 1949-Mar 1952.

has a stutter which has delighted many a trooper since long before the war. Its peculiarity is that it increases within each sentence until the important word arrives. Then the rest comes out in a rapid and fluent flow. The following exchange of extemporised radio security in a mixture of Maori and Arabic cannot get full justice from the written word:

‘D-d-d-y' know th-th' meaning o-of h-h-Haeremai?’ ‘Don't get you.’ ‘D-d-d-y’ know th-th' meaning of t-t-t-Tala hina?'

Arabic: ‘Come here!’

‘Yes.’ ‘W-w-w-w’ bloody-well p-p-p-p-PUT-it-int'effect-immediately!'

That was not hard to do. Headquarters Squadron had been sent back already. B was on the move and went straight back to the foot of Olympus Pass. The guns were sent quickly back behind Katerini to cover the balance of the regiment as it leapfrogged back. But they were not needed and went straight back from there to revert to the command of their own regiment. B Squadron waited at the foot of the pass until the rest were through and then followed on. And by 4 p.m. the whole regiment was back under the wing of the Division.

Many a man glowed with satisfaction that night. For up to eighteen months now some of them had been worrying day after day whether they would be able to ‘take it’: whether they had the courage to stand up to a real enemy when the time came. It had come and they had not been found wanting— even in their own estimation. They were battle-worthy all right. They had proved themselves able to remain coldly calculating while a good target built up, and coldly calculating when they fell upon it. They had proved able to stand up against superior weight, on a forward slope, at close range; to fight; to retire suddenly; to turn and show fight again. They were a team. They had long trusted each other: now at last they trusted themselves too. So far they had not been seriously attacked from the air though they had seen many aircraft passing back over them. They had had their first casualties when a mortar was thought to have killed two men of C Squadron, but later these turned up in a prisoner-of-war camp. The vehicles threatened to give trouble, the carriers in particular. But their crews felt that, given half a chance, they would coax the work out of them somehow, even though three of them had come back over the pass under tow and one had been lost when its steering gear gave trouble at a critical moment.

The great difficulty became just how to find that half-a-chance. It was never found in Greece.

As the enemy had outflanked the Aliakmon line at its northern end, it had been decided that the New Zealanders and Australians would withdraw to Thermopylae. This would give the defenders a line to hold more in keeping with their numbers. Already the Armoured Brigade was being pushed back from Grevena towards Dheskati and the pressure round Servia was becoming too great. All routes of withdrawal converged on the town of Elasson so, at the Divisional Commander's conference on 14 April, Colonel Carruth was given orders to take Div Cav back there and prepare for another rearguard action through the pass at Dheskati. The regiment would work directly under General Blamey, who now commanded the newly-formed Anzac Corps.

The move began at five o'clock the next morning when B Squadron moved out, and by mid-afternoon the squadron, with No. 3 Section, 6 Field Company, and N Troop, 34 Battery, under command, was in a position between Dheskati and the village of Karperon. The sappers brought with them some 1 ½ tons of explosives and 200 mines, ample to prepare four road demolitions. These they immediately set out to do.

Regimental Headquarters with A Squadron took up a position near the village of Kephalovrysis and C Squadron, in reserve, was farther back near Elasson. Headquarters Squadron was sent back to Tirnavos, half-way to Larisa.

The country was not difficult to defend if sufficient troops were available, for it was steep and the roads were narrow; but to conduct a withdrawal was a different story. It began to rain within hours of B Squadron's arriving in position and the roads showed every promise of cutting up as soon as they were required to carry any bulk of traffic.

The regiment had long since lost its own radio communication with Cole and Atchison, indeed all contact with 1 Armoured Brigade. This was now under command of the Anzac Corps and was known to be withdrawing in the direction of Dheskati. So Lieutenant McQueen was sent forward with seven of the DRs to try to gain touch, but though he found by the next morning its camping site for the 15th, he was not so lucky as Atchison at Grevena to tumble right on to it, for the roads in the meantime had become almost impassable. This added another to the regiment's worries, as completing the demolitions forward of Dheskati could have serious consequences if this cut off the line of retirement for the armour. Yet it would be hazardous for B Squadron to wait until actual contact with the enemy had been made before blowing the road.

The rain continued all night on the 15th and all next day, adding to the difficulties of 26 Battalion which had been near Servia, and which Div Cav met struggling to retire on foot through the steep country north of the road. At the same time Australian artillery units were coming back in dribs and drabs along the road, which was already cutting up. When 26 Battalion got back to the Div Cav positions its men were already heavy with fatigue and lack of sleep and there was no transport forward to pick them up. However, they did at least get a spell near RHQ while a signal was sent back for their transport. As well as this, all the regiment's B Echelon vehicles that could be mustered up were brought up to help carry them.

This small service initiated a warm understanding between the two units which lasted all through the war. Perhaps it was not coincidence that 26 Battalion, four years later, was chosen to train the Divisional Cavalry for a new task.

By the morning of 17 April General Freyberg's broad intention was to have Div Cav for a screen, with anti-tank support where necessary, covering the whole front of the Division as it retired. Rather than place squadrons under command of various brigades, however, he preferred them under their own RHQ. Thus he could retain direct control of them all, through Colonel Carruth, during their movements in what would be rapidly changing conditions, as well as keeping himself instantly informed of the changing circumstances over his whole front.

The 5th Brigade was due to fall back from the north side of Mt Olympus and, far on the right flank, the enemy was breaking through in some strength in the Pinios Gorge and threatening to cut the withdrawal route at Larisa.

The B Squadron carrier troops were left in the meantime with the whole responsibility for the Dheskati road. A Squadron, with P Troop, 34 Anti-Tank Battery (Lieutenant Moodie

Lt-Col J. W. Moodie, DSO, ED; Dunedin; born Dunedin, 9 Jun 1907; warehouseman; Bty Comd 4 Fd Regt Nov 1942-Apr 1944; wounded 26 Nov 1941; comd 16 Fd Regt (K Force) Aug 1950-Apr 1952.

), under command, went to the road junction of Elevtherokhorion, north of Elasson, while C Squadron went back towards Olympus Pass after sending one carrier troop, together with O Troop (Lieutenant Harding

Maj A. F. Harding, MC; Wellington; born Wanganui, 27 Nov 1916; accountant; wounded 25 Nov 1941.

) of the same battery, also under command, some six miles up the Servia road.

An effort was being made at the same time by a force under the Australian Brigadier Allen to plug the gap in the Pinios Gorge, where 21 Battalion was in serious trouble. B Squadron was to send an armoured car troop immediately and was then to withdraw from the Dheskati road and join Allen Force. Lieutenant Kerr's

Maj E. W. Kerr, ED; Cave; born NZ 24 May 1908; farmer.

troop started for Pinios, but when one of his cars slipped off the road and was lost, Lieutenant Capamagian was sent with his cars.

So by the evening of the 17th the Divisional Cavalry was stretched out over 35 miles in one direction—48 miles by road —and, in the other, 17 miles—a further 34 miles by road. This was in rainy weather, in a general withdrawal—and there was never one without some confusion—over roads which were cutting up, in mountainous country, with radio equipment giving speech communication of only 15 miles under good conditions. The armoured cars were far too big and awkward for the type of country and the Bren carriers were due, and overdue, for replacement even before they went into battle. Command was thus tremendously difficult. Great responsibility fell on the squadron commanders while the efficiency of the whole regiment depended, to an extent they never dreamed of, upon the technical efficiency and the resourcefulness and steadiness of the troopers themselves.

This, of course, failed at times. Indeed, the very next day a serious situation arose because one man failed badly in his duty to deliver a message.

While the regiment had been well forward of the Division it had been spared air attacks, but now that it was back near the main defences it began to suffer its share. As soon as they were in position on the Dheskati road on 15 April, every squadron suffered heavy machine-gunning and dive-bombing attacks from the Luftwaffe. Movement had been very closely followed, and no doubt accurately reported, by ‘George’. For his constant companionship he had been given only this quasi-affectionate nickname; otherwise he was left strictly alone. But even he had his moments of evil temptation and, for all the kindly tolerance shown to him, had little gratitude. For on the morning of the 18th he even forgot his manners so far as to start machine-gunning the regiment.

The Division retired steadily through Elasson all night on the 17th and at 7.30 the next morning C Squadron sighted enemy coming down from the Olympus Pass. He seemed to be

the rearguard at elevtherokhorion, morning 18 aprilblack and white map of cavalry position intermingled with refugees with their flocks of sheep, and there was even a woman with a cart on which lay an old man, dying. To have to open fire on such a target was a horrible task but it had to be done. Very soon the squadron came under shellfire. Major Harford had just given the order to retire out of range when several tanks rounded the bend and opened rapid fire on the carriers. The guns of O Troop stopped the first two in their tracks, but it was time to pull out. Harford's radio link was being well and truly jammed by the enemy and he sent back a DR to RHQ to say he was coming back. The messenger sped through RHQ, missing it completely, with the result that A Squadron, waiting to see C Squadron safely through before blowing the bridge, was caught unawares. Word had to go forward to bring in Lieutenant Adams,

Capt M. L. W. Adams; Orere, Auckland; born Blenheim, 27 May 1914; farmer; wounded 20 May 1941.

some two miles up the road and, the radio link proving impossible, Trooper Sperry

S-Sgt A. Sperry, MM and bar; Hamilton; born Auckland, 20 Aug 1918; shop assistant; wounded 30 Mar 1943.

was sent forward on a motor-cycle. He got the message through only just in time. In fact Adams had to abandon a carrier, which was hit by a shell too late to consider salvaging it.

Major Potter had already met Brigadier Puttick and learnt that Lieutenant-Colonel Kippenberger

Maj-Gen Sir Howard Kippenberger, KBE, CB, DSO and bar, ED, m.i.d., Legion of Merit (US); born Ladbrooks, 28 Jan 1897; barrister and solicitor; 1 NZEF 1916–17; CO 20 Bn Sep 1939-Apr 1941, Jun-Dec 1941; comd 10 Bde, Crete, May 1941; 5 Bde Jan 1942-Jun 1943, Nov 1943-Feb 1944; GOC 2 NZ Div, 30 Apr-14 May 1943, 9 Feb-2 Mar 1944; comd 2 NZEF Prisoner-of-War Reception Group (UK) Oct 1944-Sep 1945; twice wounded; Editor-in-Chief, NZ War Histories, 1946–57; died Wellington, 5 May 1957.

was coming back down the road from the Servia Pass with the 4 Brigade rearguard, but he was not yet in sight. Firing broke out just along the road ahead of Lieutenant Robinson's prepared demolition, and presently tanks came rolling into view with one single New Zealand truck ahead of them. This truck was frantically beckoned on while the guns of P Troop opened fire and halted the tanks. But soon the squadron found itself under mortar fire, so Potter pulled it back, leaving Robinson to hold on as long as he possibly could. Colonel Kippenberger had not been accounted for, nor had Lieutenant Macdonald

Capt R. A. M. Macdonald; Orari; born NZ 29 Aug 1914; farmer.

of C Squadron who had also been left up the same road.

Robinson and the anti-tank guns hung on for over an hour, suffering vicious fire from the tanks. One of the armoured cars was hit on a wheel but remained mobile, and another suffered a mechanical breakdown at this awkward moment and had to be repaired under fire. Having caused this valuable delay Robinson gave the order to blow the bridge, by which time, had he but known it, Kippenberger had taken to the hills and got clear. Macdonald, on the other hand, did not have the long cross-country walk to Elasson that the 4 Brigade rearguard had to make. He, too, found the remains of battle where Kippenberger had been cut off but there was nobody in sight. So he drove until he could not get past the abandoned vehicles, ‘bailed out’ of his own, took to a nearby creek, and in a few minutes had joined up with Robinson. Indeed, he was with him in time to join in some sniping against German infantry, who were by now trying to outflank the position along the hillside.

This effective little rearguard action managed to gain precious time. It can claim four tanks, two armoured cars and a lorry. Much of the credit goes to the anti-tank gunners, though they were not without loss in men killed and wounded and in knocked-out guns. But that is their story.

As B Squadron had not yet arrived back from Dheskati the enemy had to be denied entry into Elasson at all costs. Slowly Potter withdrew A Squadron towards the town, until when within sight of it he came under the protection of the field guns behind. B Squadron had been ordered back when the enemy was reported at Elevtherokhorion, and since the various troops were placed at intervals along the Dheskati road, some of them took quite a while to retire. As a result, when RHQ passed through Elasson and found Major Russell there with his squadron headquarters, A Squadron was called back. Not until after this was it realised that Russell's squadron was not yet all accounted for and another hasty line of defence was organised north of the town. However, the last of B Squadron arrived by 10.30 a.m. after doing some further demolitions on the way. Regimental Headquarters, A and C Squadrons were able to retire through the 6 Infantry Brigade positions and move out as a guard on the left flank. B Squadron had other work to do.

In the meantime RHQ and A Squadron had their troubles. The squadron had come back more or less in close order and, halting near Elasson, was unable to disperse sufficiently. Together with RHQ this proved a tempting target, which was pounced upon by three Stukas which peeled off from a passing formation. Regimental Headquarters got the full force of the attack and suffered several casualties, including Trooper Reeve

Tpr H. C. R. Reeve; born NZ 22 Jan 1912; labourer; killed in action 19 Apr 1941.

who was killed. In return for this unkindness the Stukas were met with a solid barrage of small arms, which shot one of them out of the sky and no doubt gave the pilots of the others some earnest thought when they came to survey the damage after landing.

allen force withdraws from the pinios gorge, 18 april black and white map of cavalry movement

As has been related, both the armoured car troops of B Squadron had gone to join Brigadier Allen in the Pinios Gorge, and now the balance of the squadron was sent to help in the delaying action at Tempe. It arrived at Allen Force headquarters just after midday, and by three o'clock was astride the railway near Makrikhorion. The infantry by now had been withdrawn and the squadron, with D Troop of 26 Battery, 4 Field Regiment, immediately behind it, was detailed to fight the rearguard. The enemy tanks kept up full pressure, coming through the trees, and though the squadron was being steadily forced back, it did this so reluctantly that it actually became intermingled with the enemy.

The 26th Battery commander, Major Stewart,

Col G. J. O. Stewart, DSO, ED, m.i.d.; Auckland; born Auckland, 22 Nov 1908; importer; CO 4 Fd Regt Aug 1942-Mar 1943, Dec 1943-Mar 1945; CRA 2 NZ Div 22 Feb-16 Mar 1945; wounded 3 Mar 1943.

looking down from the hills at the time, commented afterwards that he could see Major Russell ‘magnificently handling his squadron’, and an Australian infantryman described the whole action as looking ‘like a drawing by someone who had never been to a war, but the whole thing was unreal….’

The spirit of that afternoon had caught on for Stewart's remarks could just as easily have been applied to his own three troops, D, E and F, whose 25-pounders—and not without losses —steadily destroyed enemy tanks trying to overrun them as they leap-frogged back through each other. Major Russell's instructions were to hold the enemy until 3 a.m., by which time Allen Force should be clear, but by dusk the Australian infantry towards which the squadron was retiring had pulled out and left it in the air. Nevertheless the whole retirement was made very slowly indeed. Trooper Campbell,

Tpr L. T. Campbell; born Scotland, 23 Sep 1909; barman; wounded 4 Dec 1944; died Christchurch, 21 Aug 1961.

for example, fired his Boys anti-tank rifle at a tank but round after round just bounced off. In a furious rage he took out the lock and flung it from him as far as he could. This was not surprising even in a man of such placid temperament as Campbell, for though in the heat of close-range action much goes unnoticed, this particular weapon administers such an enormous kick that the blow along the firer's jawbone can cause mild concussion. To suffer that several times for nothing would be quite sufficient.

One carrier was retiring with its commander, Corporal White,

Capt R. F. White; Hororata, Christchurch; born England, 21 Mar 1910; farmer.

lying prone, firing his Bren gun over the back. The carrier was hit twice by shells from the tanks. One landed amongst the tins of water and petrol, almost in his face, while the other passed under him, through blankets, packs and everything, and finally bounced over into the front cockpit. But the carrier still kept going with the crew extinguishing a fire as they went. That carrier, long overdue for replacement like so many others in the regiment, stood up to a lot of punishment. The laconic remarks in White's diary for the next day read, amongst other things: ‘Had good feed of beans and eggs. Had to hold in gears with my feet. Fine day’—and rather sadly for the next day, the 20th, now 50 miles farther back: ‘Had to abandon carrier as fan belt's gone….’

After dark on the 18th, Russell himself got into trouble whilst disengaging. At the time friend and enemy were so intermingled that Russell's own DR had walked to within fifteen yards of an enemy tank in the dark, mistaking it for his car. Of all awkward occasions, it capsized while climbing up on to the road. Lieutenant Wynyard,

Capt J. G. Wynyard; born NZ 17 Aug 1914; farmer; wounded 25 May 1941; killed in action 2 Nov 1942.

finding Russell was missing, made a wild dash back and rescued him. It could well be said, therefore, that the squadron disentangled, rather than disengaged, from the enemy. It began to pull back, but not before Lieutenant Andrews

Maj E. R. Andrews, ED, m.i.d.; Pukearuhe, Taranaki; born New Plymouth, 17 Jul 1913; farmer; 2 i/c 24 Bn Jun 1944-Jun 1945.

had found time to lay some mines across the road. Shortly afterwards, one of his troop heard a loud explosion, but it was impossible to find out if they had collected a tank or not.

By 11 p.m. the squadron had been forced back to a railway crossing a little short of Larisa only to be greeted by the news that the town itself seemed to be in enemy hands. Lieutenant Capamagian went forward and discovered that some Australian infantry, trying to pass through the town, had been turned back by machine-gun fire. It was established later that though the road here was blocked by the enemy, the town itself had not been occupied. It had suffered heavy dive-bombing, many buildings were on fire, and the place was littered with dead and the wrecks of ruined vehicles amongst the rubble. Had this been known at the time, no doubt Russell and his squadron, in the mood they were in, would simply have rushed the road block and opened it up again for everybody. But they were not to know this and they accepted the fact that there was no alternative but to try a cross-country run to get back on to the road at Volos.

Other troops had already gone this way and guides had been left to mark the turn-off. But these men had apparently not stayed long, so Russell simply had to turn east and hope that luck would hold while his squadron floundered along boggy farm tracks in the dark. The Volos road was reached by 4 a.m., but not without the loss of two cars capsized and three carriers abandoned. Two of these had broken down beyond quick repair and a third was hopelessly ‘bellied’ on a rock.

While B Squadron was embroiled with the Pinios action the rest of the regiment, together with the remaining eight 2- pounders of 34 Anti-Tank Battery, was still north-west of Larisa covering 6 Brigade's withdrawal. This brigade retired from Elasson by two routes, and Div Cav's task was to cover the left one and be ready to order the blowing of more demolitions, including the Pinios River bridge just north of the town, once everybody was clear. This was all done and the last of the regiment just clear of Larisa by 3 a.m. on the 19th. B Squadron was expected back by 3.30 a.m., about the time it was approaching the Volos road much farther south. Lieutenant- Colonel Carruth decided to wait where he was while B Squadron was repeatedly and unsuccessfully called on the wireless. This had gone on for two hours when distant sounds of movement were heard coming from the Trikkala road. Guessing by the number of flares being fired that the noise was coming from an enemy force, Carruth decided to wait no longer and gave the orders to move off.

They had gone only about ten miles towards Volos when they met Brigadier Allen with Major Russell and his squadron, together with some artillery personnel, patiently waiting. So the drive back to Volos continued with the whole regiment being used as divisional rearguard. Though the weather was fine the Luftwaffe left them alone. It was concentrating on the inland road, the direct route from Larisa to Lamia. During the afternoon 24 Battalion was overtaken marching out on foot and Div Cav elected to halt while it wirelessed Divisional Headquarters for the battalion's transport to come back for its tired men. Once this had been organised it moved off again, rolling steadily on right through the night.

All this driving was taking steady toll of the vehicles. The ponderous and awkward armoured cars were very easily capsized and this misfortune befell Colonel Carruth's car during the night of the 19th. The carriers were also steadily cracking up, needing great efforts from the crews to keep them going at all. Physically, too, the men were beginning to show the strain. The majority of them had had little or no sleep for four days and this, try as they might, was making them unreliable. In the case of many vehicles it took teamwork to keep them running efficiently; and the men themselves, with normal body reflexes slowing down from fatigue, or with just momentary lapses into unconsciousness, were discovering that even driving was becoming somewhat hazardous.

Rearguard positions had been taken up by the regiment while waiting for transport to return for 24 Battalion but no action resulted. Nor was this necessary at Almiros, where a similar halt was made before finally retiring through Lamia. The Division was by now assembling at Thermopylae and making preparations for a prolonged defence there.

It was intended to hold the Thermopylae line with the whole Anzac Corps and, to that end, 1 Armoured Brigade had been retiring direct from Larisa. Brigadier Lee, in command of the Corps' medium artillery, was now responsible for covering this retirement, but was not certain of the position of Brigadier Allen's force coming back from the Pinios Gorge. He decided to prepare some demolitions just north of Lamia and establish a delaying force there. Here we again pick up the story of the two C Squadron armoured car troops which had by now been placed under the command of an Australian, Major H. G. Guinn.

They were now reduced to four cars and, merged into a single troop under Atchison, took up their places in this rearguard with accompanying tanks, two companies of Australian infantry, an Australian MG company, and six New Zealand anti-tank guns.

About midday on 20 April the usual German motor-cycle and side-car vanguard which arrived was thoroughly mauled. After a pause of an hour or so, enemy tanks came forward and were engaged by our cruiser tanks, with losses on both sides. By late afternoon the whole position was under fire from mortars and light artillery and it was time to blow the demolitions and get clear, under cover of the machine guns. By the time this was completed yet another of the armoured cars had been lost to enemy shellfire before the whole force retired through Lamia to Thermopylae.

The defence of the Thermopylae line was designed to be essentially a gunners' battle. Though few at this time knew it, already British troops, because the Greek Army's front on the Adriatic was crumbling and the whole effort in Greece had by now become hopeless, were preparing to leave the country. So Thermopylae became a battle to gain time to organise, however hastily, an evacuation.

In the Divisional Cavalry the men themselves were never actually told this. Rather did the truth gradually dawn on them. In the meantime it was just one more battle to be fought. Even after a week of difficult retirements morale was high, and the general feeling was that this was merely some sparring for the most advantageous ground upon which the Division could really ‘step its frame out’.

The regiment at long last was no longer needed as a screen and the chance was offering to do much-needed maintenance. It was sent back behind Molos with no active part to play in the battle in the meantime.

Right from the very first retirement through Katerini, HQ Squadron had been sent back, step by step, always just one bound ahead of the fighting squadrons. It now joined them for this period, and from now on its story merges with those of the other squadrons.

The period of rest, such as it was to have been, did not last more than twenty-four hours. The large island of Euboea, opposite the east coast, presented a potential threat to the right flank, since there was a strong possibility that the enemy could land there by boats taken from Volos. Greek sources had indeed reported that this was already happening. On 21 April the Corps Commander ordered that Div Cav should patrol the island. But the order could not be complied with that day as there was not a single vehicle which could move off at short notice without workshop attention, such had been the demands made on them.

The deterioration in Greek resistance farther west was bringing the distinct danger that the enemy would break through to Corinth and into the Peloponnese, denying the use of evacuation beaches there. The defence of Thermopylae therefore could not be a prolonged one, nor Div Cav's rest anything but short. Once the Division began to retire to the evacuation beaches either at Marathon or in the Peloponnese, the regiment would be back at work as a protective screen.

Though by 22 April General Freyberg had been informed that the British forces would be leaving Greece and told not to send any substantial forces to Euboea, anxiety about the island remained. Finally it was the Armoured Brigade which sent a patrol there across the great swing bridge at Khalkis, using Atchison's armoured cars and some Bren carriers. Atchison continued to patrol during 23 April and managed to find a large party of some eighty Australians and New Zealanders who had worked their way south after the Pinios fighting and got on to the island. A little later some Germans were indeed encountered, but the patrol was able to return to Khalkis with the definite news that no real threat need be expected from the east.

An operation order of the previous day had detailed the plans for withdrawing from Thermopylae. The 5th Brigade was to withdraw to the Marathon beaches while 4 Brigade, already in reserve, was to form a defensive position covering Kriekouki between Thebes and Athens whilst 6 Brigade disengaged and withdrew through it, and was then to embark. To screen the brigades through Kriekouki and—though plans were changed later—to screen 4 Brigade from there to the evacuation beaches, a force was formed under the command of the CRE, Lieutenant- Colonel Clifton.

Brig G. H. Clifton, DSO and 2 bars, MC, m.i.d.; Porangahau; born Greenmeadows, 18 Sep 1898; Regular soldier; served North-West Frontier 1919–21 (MC, Waziristan); BM 5 Bde 1940; CRE NZ Div 1940–41; Chief Engineer, 30 Corps, 1941–42; comd 6 Bde Feb-Sep 1942; p.w. 4 Sep 1942; escaped, Germany, Mar 1945; Commander, Northern Military District, 1952–53.

This consisted of the Divisional Cavalry less A Squadron, the carriers of 22 and 28 Battalions, 34 Anti-Tank Battery less N Troop, and a battery of the RHA. A Squadron and N Troop had a similar job to do for 1 Armoured Brigade, now at Khalkis, as it withdrew to the beaches at Rafina and Porto Rafti, east of Athens.

Increased German pressure against the Thermopylae defences coincided with the preliminary thinning out of the New Zealanders during 23 April, and came to climax on the 24th when an attempt to force the position with tanks was heavily repulsed by the guns. At the same time the Luftwaffe, by now with the air entirely to itself, hammered increasingly. The Divisional Cavalry, which had been delayed in starting for Levadhia, where it would be in a suitable position to cover the withdrawal, until the early morning of the 24th, had therefore to travel by daylight and suffer all the consequences of so doing. Messerschmitts swept low along the roads, strafing the traffic from almost ground level. Stukas kept at it all day with dive-bombing attacks, and even Dornier bombers, with their flaps down to decrease flying speed, were used to keep the attacks incessant. The regiment was not the only unit to find—in fact every unit found—that, considering attacks of such intensity, the total damage for the day was most amazingly small. Colonel Carruth's armoured car was caught during the morning. He and his driver were both wounded and the OC 34 Battery, Major Jenkins,

Maj A. V. Jenkins; born NZ 30 May 1903; civil servant; died of wounds 26 Apr 1941.

who was with them, was mortally wounded. The car had to be abandoned. Nor was that all the Colonel's bad luck for that day, for later on he lost another car when it was set on fire by machine-gunning.

A Squadron suffered just as much difficulty that day trying to get back to Khalkis. For some unknown reason it did not start until 8 a.m., some seven hours after the order to move had arrived. As soon as it came out of the cover of the trees at Cape Knimis it was pounced upon by the Luftwaffe. Major Potter struggled to keep his squadron moving but by the middle of the afternoon, having lost an armoured car and a carrier, he had to give up and wait under cover until the evening brought enough respite to allow him to reach his destination.

The next day, the 25th, 6 Brigade was due to move back and Clifton Force, whilst covering it, had the task of making the final demolitions at various points down the road. Once again there was a delay, the brigade not managing to get clear until 5 a.m., but as luck would have it, the Luftwaffe was not nearly so active as on the previous day and the convoys were able to roll back through Thebes and Kriekouki with less interruption, Div Cav having duly picked up in passing two C Squadron troops which had been guarding a vital crossroads since the night before. By mid-afternoon Clifton Force, the last of the Division, was back through the 4 Brigade positions and the Divisional Cavalry, still less A Squadron with 1 Armoured Brigade, was tucked away amongst the young pine trees south of Kriekouki beyond the little village of Mazi.

That evening orders were changed again. Clifton Force was relieved of its job of covering the withdrawal of 4 Brigade, which now had to hold on for another twenty-four hours. The beaches of Rafina and Porto Rafti could not hold as many troops for embarkation as originally planned, and 6 Brigade, which was to have embarked there, was now to go back through Corinth and embark from beaches in the Peloponnese. In its place 1 Armoured Brigade was ordered to take up positions round Tatoi, some 20 miles north of Athens. It was later to embark at Rafina and Porto Rafti whilst 4 Brigade withdrew to another defensive position just south of Corinth.

The bridge over the Corinth Canal thus became a vital feature and C Squadron was ordered, together with 22 and 28 Battalions' carriers, to add to the force guarding it until both brigades were across it and the bridge blown.

The balance of the regiment, now including HQ Squadron, was to move across to the Armoured Brigade to help there, and to cover its withdrawal to the beaches.

The Divisional Cavalry had had all its share of hardships in the withdrawal from the Aliakmon: strain, hunger, lack of sleep, and more strain. But it was spared, thank Heaven, the greatest unhappiness of all. Unlike many other units, it did not have to suffer the distress of having to accept the expressions of friendship, and faith in a lost cause, by the people of Athens. It passed through the city during the night and thus was allowed to avoid in defeat the tearful, indeed the loving, farewell of a brave people. A few of the regiment had to go through this trial and that was enough. The following afternoon a patrol was sent back north of Athens under Lieutenant Wynyard as there had been a report of German motor-cycles within 15 miles of the city.

Regimental Headquarters, HQ and B Squadrons arrived at Tatoi at daybreak on the 26th and dispersed amongst the trees for the day. A Squadron retired steadily as cover for the Armoured Brigade as it came through Skhimatarion and Kalosalesi to Malakasa.

There was no fighting that day and by late afternoon the men were ordered to destroy equipment before embarking that night.

Little should be said of that destruction. It was a painful business. It is hard to take the parts of a weapon, for months cleaned and oiled to a state of silky perfection, and just throw them over your shoulder out of sight for good. Fire would have been a kind and quick destroyer for the vehicles, but fires were as forbidden as mortal sin. It is hard and cruel, after long periods of straining every sense and sinew to keep a motor turning, ever turning, to drain out its oil and water and set it turning for the last time. Some of those motors took a long time to die, and a painful death too. As they overheated, the smell was cruel and heathen in the nostrils, and the laboured scream of overwrought metals was prolonged and agonising before they seized up with a thud. It was a painful form of human ingratitude.

A Squadron arrived during the afternoon, and by early evening the regiment, now with only sufficient vehicles to carry it there, left for the Rafina beach. By midnight it was embarking. A strong swell was running and only the lee side of the ship, the Glengyle, could be worked. As a result, by 3 a.m. when she had to leave, though there were over 4000 men on board, there were still some 700 men on the beach, 150 of them from the Divisional Cavalry.

Deprive a soldier of his weapons and you render him as powerless as Samson shorn of his locks, for not only is he physically powerless, but morally too, and will lose much of his hope and much of his resource. It was a disconsolate band that wandered back up behind the beach to hide up for the 27th. There was little cover: a few stunted trees, bushes of laurel and myrtle, and on the ground great patches of the little rock-daphne. What help was that to these men, fought to exhaustion, now weaponless and powerless? There seemed nothing left to do but sleep and wait the inevitable.

However, the sleep itself was a help and by the time the afternoon was well advanced they were refreshed enough to set out, when orders came from Brigadier Charrington, to march to Porto Rafti where 4 Brigade, because of events at the Corinth bridge, was now to be embarked. But they were turned back because the enemy was between them and this beach and, still in reasonable order, they returned to Rafina.

Luck was with them. Hope returned as evening gave place to night and they patiently waited for something they did not expect. It came. HMS Havock arrived at Rafina, and by the small hours of next morning they were on her firm decks, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted as they headed at high speed for Crete.

About this time most of C Squadron was also on the water but not as guests of the Navy. Some men had left Greece in commandeered caiques. Others were still looking for such craft.

We last heard of C Squadron as it was setting out for Corinth to help in protecting 4 Brigade's withdrawal route. Major Harford's orders on the 25th were to report to the OC of ‘Isthmus Force’ (Major Gordon

Maj R. K. Gordon, ED; Wanganui; born Bulls, 19 Feb 1899; school-teacher; wounded and p.w. 26 Apr 1941.

of 19 Battalion) at Corinth and, once 4 Brigade had passed through, to go to Patrai, prepared to resist any landing of enemy forces coming across from Agrinion, and thence proceed down the coast road for embarkation at Kalamata. The swift passage of events precluded the carrying out of much of these orders.

After a slow and difficult move from Mazi during which the squadron had a lot of engine trouble, probably through being given high-octane petrol intended for the RAF, it crossed the canal bridge about 3 a.m. on the 26th. Harford swung his column down a side road to wait for daylight and a chance to seek detailed orders. In turning off he lost touch with Lieutenant Macdonald, who had been at the back of the column with a truck to pick up the crews of any vehicles that simply refused to go any farther, and with the carrier platoons of 22 and 28 Battalions. Macdonald and his troop were gathered up later by Colonel Clifton and used to help with demolitions farther south.

The Divisional Cavalry learnt a lesson in Greece that it never forgot. Never again did it pull into a position at night and laager in such a way that it was not ready for instant action either in the dark or in the dawn. At Corinth, as the sky began to lighten, Harford ordered his squadron to disperse and camouflage. But this order was already too late. The Luftwaffe took control, and an attack began at full pressure before the squadron was properly ready.

It was dispersing amongst some anti-aircraft guns which opened up against the first aircraft—high-level bombers. That marked the end of any further movement as these very guns had been chosen for complete annihilation. The moment they were located down came the Stukas in such numbers that they simply wiped the guns out of existence, though the ‘Tommy’ gunners fought back magnificently. Without pause the immediate area of the canal was subjected to a tremendous softening-up of bombing and strafing, and from the moment it started, every living soul was pinned to earth. The strafing Messerschmitts came down until they were almost touching the vines and oat tops as they flew round and round in increasing circles, neutralising the whole area.

All this could prelude only one thing. The parachute attack which followed was launched with such perfect timing and perfect drill that it was almost paralysing. There was a short while in which people could look up: and there they were, wave after wave of big slow Ju52s in arrowhead formation, fuselage doors open, and only about 300 feet up. Literally in seconds the air was filled with the fascinating but chilling sight of hundreds of parachutes in several colours, mainly white. When Harford gave the order to open fire, everything possible was turned on them, belt after belt, magazine after magazine.

CRETE coloured map of Crete

This is better described in Cpl Adams's

Sgt A. C. Adams; Te Awamutu; born NZ 11 Jun 1915; radio-electrician.

words:

‘… Tony Connelly's

Tpr A. Connelly, m.i.d.; Auckland; born NZ 1 Nov 1911; motor driver; p.w. Apr 1941; escaped and returned to unit via Turkey.

Vickers was the first to open up. He had twitched it up with wire to a log on a bank as we had no tripods. You could always tell Tony's gun. He could tune it to 50 rounds faster than anybody else. Garth

Maj G. T. Seccombe, DCM, m.i.d.; New Plymouth; born Whangarei, 27 Oct 1915; Regular soldier; wounded and p.w. 1 Jun 1941.

saw him rake the fuselage of one Junkers from end to end…. Garth was firing the Bren out of the turret as hard as Tommy

Tpr T. N. Bradford; Christchurch; born NZ 13 Feb 1913; chainman.

could hand him up magazines. That was the only time I ever saw Tommy without that comical twinkle in his eye, for he was as grim as a morgue. Like the rest of us he was hoping for the best but expecting the worst…. Then Bonny

Brig I. L. Bonifant, DSO and bar, ED, m.i.d.; Adelaide; born Ashburton, 3 Mar 1912; stock agent; CO 25 Bn Sep 1942-Jan 1943; Div Cav Jan 1943-Apr 1944; comd 6 Bde 3–27 Mar 1944; 5 Bde Jan-May 1945; 6 Bde Jun-Oct 1945; wounded 24 Oct 1942.

turned to me and said: “See if you can get Div.” I had no callsign and no frequency. I searched and searched; for anybody; squadron frequencies, regimental frequency; any English voice; for no matter what I did now I could not make matters worse—only better. But the machine was dead—dead as mutton….’

It takes only a matter of seconds for a paratrooper to descend 300 feet. It was an impossible task for any squadron to wipe out a thousand men in this time. These well-drilled soldiers seemed literally to fall out of their harness as they touched the ground, take a quick look round for a red coloured parachute—the leader's—rally there, and each group was off to its appointed task in short, quick rushes.

No contact had yet been made with Isthmus Force and Harford set out for Corinth to find its headquarters before the enemy had time to organise. But he found the way hopelessly blocked by a huge bomb-crater in the town, with other vehicles already jammed against it. Before he had extricated himself from this situation he had been straddled by a stick of bombs and had been fired at from the buildings.

Nobody could have failed to recognise the tremendous clap of thunder when the canal bridge blew up, so he knew now that there was no question of 4 Brigade fighting its way through. He decided to take his squadron back clear of the area, to try to locate the carrier platoons, and then to make some decision on what to do next. Communications were bad, owing to the low state of the wireless batteries, and he could only hope that those of his squadron whom he could not reach by this means would be keeping an eye on him when he set off for a rendezvous about a mile back. After waiting there for those who were able to disengage and follow him, he decided to follow the road he was on as his map promised that this should be a reasonable track south through the hills to the road south of Corinth. If he could reach this he could perhaps prevent further penetration southwards. But a mile or two farther on he was in trouble again. The road, such as it was, ended at a village, and nothing but a goat track continued. Either he turned back and tried to fight his way through to Corinth—and even then he had to find a way through the town—or he abandoned all the vehicles and set out on foot for Navplion some 30 miles away. He decided on the latter as a more hopeful choice.

An hour before midday all the vehicles had been smashed by running them into a deep ravine, all possible food and weapons collected and, with a guide from the village, the party had set off. Nor was this before time, for they were not out of sight of it when a strong enemy patrol arrived in captured vehicles, looking for them.

One man had failed to catch up and his tale bears telling. When Harford ordered dispersal at first light, Lieutenant Van Slyke had a position of very poor observation and, being on the right flank, no contact farther right. He had gone forward a short way to get a place of better view for his troop. He was caught out in the open when the attack started and was pinned with his face to the ground until it was all over. It was more than an hour before he got a chance to return and by then the squadron was gone. He could actually hear it making off in the distance and managed to follow the track-marks for quite a way, ducking into the crops when any planes came over. But he was spotted and three of them dived at him in quick succession. When they had passed on, he looked up into the barrels of a whole section of German Tommy guns. He was looted of anything of any value and held prisoner for about three hours. By then there was quite a group of prisoners and the paratroopers had decided to shoot them. They had all been lined up and already one, a Greek, had been shot when a party of infantry crashed in and shot up the guard, releasing them. Later Van Slyke was picked up by a truck and taken to Navplion, where he was put on a destroyer that landed him in Crete.

It was a well defined route that the squadron took and it was given a fresh guide at each village it came to, and after long drinks of cold water and perhaps a little food, the crews set off again over the next of many barren ridges. Finally, just on dusk, at the limit of endurance after the pace set by this series of fresh guides, they arrived in sight of Navplion.

Embarkation was still going on and they took their place at the tail of a long column. They waited their turn until 3 a.m. on the 27th when, just as they were almost to the ship…. She was full.

They were advised to head towards Argos to a defended locality along the gulf, so they set off again. But the gruelling walk in the heat, the cold wait, the disappointment proved too much. They rested for a few hours and pushed on again, not arriving until mid-afternoon. Here they were divided into boatloads of twenty and waited in vain all that night. The next morning, the 28th, embarkation was decided for them, but in quite another form, for enemy troops had made contact with their lightly-held perimeter. They took all the caiques they could find and set out to row.

Many stories are told of boatloads of men who rowed or sailed to Crete. Every single one is an epic of courage. The greater part of C Squadron made such a trip, one way or another. Harford's boat actually was the first to arrive, having been rowed in continuous shifts day and night till 1 May by the dozen men on board. They had cause and reason to work hard. Harford was very ill with dysentery and his men never let up trying to get him into proper hands until they were taken aboard a scow, which they met at the island of Antikithira, by some Greeks who were themselves heading for Crete.

For the next two or three weeks men were arriving in small groups. Mostly they arrived in Crete, the next logical step from Greece; some finished up in Egypt, after being picked up at sea; one at least arrived there much later, after having come through Turkey. Not one of these was without his tale of the extremes of courage and unselfish help given by the Greek people. Many a man, in his gratitude and his admiration for these people, arrived with a deep resolution to go back after the war, and if he could trace her, marry the brave girl who had helped him.

CHAPTER 6 Crete

The evacuation of Greece cut the regiment into several groups, and of the major ones of these, RHQ and most of HQ Squadron were taken to Egypt, while parts of all the three other squadrons, together with a few from HQ Squadron, went to Crete. Of these, the A and B Squadron men and most of those from HQ Squadron were landed at Suda Bay on 27 April, and those of C Squadron at Kastelli on the 29th. The regiment's strength on Crete was 194 all ranks, but a few were evacuated to Egypt before the fighting began.

For the best part of a month, in ones and twos, others continued to arrive until the very day before the attack on the island began. Every one of these men had a story of excitement to tell, stories of the resource of any New Zealander who is determined not to be locked up in a prisoner-of-war cage. They told too of the bravery of the Greek peasants who helped them as they rowed or sailed down the coasts, gave them food, hid them by day, and decoyed enemy searching craft away from them.

The Navy served the troops faithfully, tirelessly, and cheerfully during the Greece evacuation. Precious ships had crept in to the shore night after night, boldly taking shocking risks which, six weeks later, were gladly repeated at the Crete evacuation; and the tales of those it was impossible to embark, who nevertheless drew on their own resources of courage and still got away, must be sufficient proof to the Senior Service that its efforts were worth while.

By the end of May only forty-nine men were not accounted for. Forty-five of them were later confirmed as prisoners of war, two of them wounded; one was missing and one wounded and missing—both were later reclassified as killed in action. Two others, it was later established, had been killed: Trooper Grattan

Tpr P. S. Grattan; born NZ, 10 Dec 1910; taxi driver; killed in action 23 Apr 1941.

was killed when Sergeant Sutherland's truck was caught in an air raid in the Peloponnese and Corporal Woodward

Cpl F. V. Woodward; born Whakatane, 11 Apr 1918; clerk; killed in action 24 Apr 1941.

was also posted killed about the same time. This brought the regiment's losses in Greece to seven killed.

Crete gave peace to the soldiers—for a week or so. It is a beautiful spot. Its people are simple and kindly. Sometimes they resented the soldiers a little when they felt that their presence would bring the war down upon them, but they were made of the right stuff: philosophic, a little fatalistic, and humane. But when a terrible war did descend upon them, it refined, if that were possible, the best that was in them.

The country rolls back from its narrow beaches in spurs covered with little groves of olives, or in terraces covered with vines. Here and there the Cretans grow small sweet oranges and patches of wheat and barley. Further inland the country rises, gradually becoming more rugged and open, to a range of hills capped with snow. Beyond that it falls, more suddenly, down to the sea on the southern coast.

The days were hot—it was pleasant in the shade—and the nights were cold. With no clothes to spare and only odd blankets, men huddled together for warmth at nights or took their sleep in the daytime.

It was a period of reorganisation—and of surprises. Each day someone would turn up; someone who had been thought dead, and he with news of others still alive. Rest alone, at this stage, made the men fit. The Cretans sold them bread and eggs and sometimes gave them oranges. Each day a certain proportion of each unit was allowed down to the coast to bathe. Extra socks and underclothes were rare enough to be considered luxuries and the owner of a book was the subject of universal envy.

There was a feeling of unreality about those days. After the movement and excitement of Greece, the peacefulness was hard to understand, and the men found the time dragging and worried a little as they wondered whether they would be able to pick up the old threads when this wretched war was over. They had time to think of home, and they fretted lest their people would hear and believe any of the feckless rumours that always float around. Between their games of ‘Pontoon’ or Five Hundred or Bridge—the last was always popular in Div Cav— they thought of the Germans who were coming but they felt quite happy about this. They knew themselves superior, man to man, and this time the Hun would bring no panzers.

At this time there was very little in the way of arms and equipment, but gradually supplies came to hand until every man had a rifle and each troop an LMG. There were also some grenades and bombs made of M & V tins.

Meat and vegetable stew.

A training pro-

divisional cavalry positions in crete, 4–26 may 1941black and white map of cavalry position grammeprogramme was drawn up which consisted of rifle exercises, demonstrations, and pleasant route marches on which the men used to stop and sample the various wines and omelettes in the villages.

The defence of Crete was based on the assumption that it would be attacked from the air and sea simultaneously. Little or no air support could be expected by the defenders; but the Navy, vigilant and keen, could be expected to guard the sea approaches. The south coast of the island provides no suitable harbours and the inland hills are unsuitable for air assault. The northern side of the island, however, is a different proposition. The beaches are suitable for landings and the ridges and gullies behind them afford plenty of cover. The only major road follows the coast; lateral roads are few and poor.

It was decided, then, to divide the defences into four sectors. At Heraklion, farthest east, was a mixed brigade of British, Greeks and Australians. At Retimo was 19 Australian Brigade of four battalions and six Greek battalions. At Suda Bay was the equivalent of about eight battalions, British, Australian, New Zealand and Greek.

The balance of the island, from Suda Bay to Maleme, was the New Zealanders' sector. The 5th Brigade defended Maleme airfield itself. The 4th Brigade was to be a mobile reserve until it was clear where the sea landing would come. The rest of the New Zealanders and two Greek regiments, the 6th and the 8th, were formed into a new brigade, the 10th, under the command of Colonel Kippenberger. This was disposed round the village of Galatas.

But not quite all of it; running south-west from Canea is a road to the village of Alikianou, six miles away. Half-way along this road are prison buildings and, a mile farther on, a reservoir and a power-house. This is where Div Cav settled down to wait.

‘Russell Force’, as it was now known, consisted by 19 May of 194 all ranks under the command of Major J. T. Russell. He organised his force into three squadrons of three troops each. These squadrons were commanded by Lieutenant H. A. Robinson, Captain F. W. Horton,

Maj F. W. Horton, ED; Blenheim; born Blenheim, 18 Oct 1903; barrister and solicitor.

and Major E. R. Harford. The Adjutant was Captain I. L. Bonifant and Lieutenant Reeves

Lt J. W. Reeves, MC; born NZ 15 Aug 1907; farmer; killed in action 16 Dec 1942.

was Quartermaster.

Early in May Russell Force moved up to Aghya and settled round the north and west sides of the reservoir. On the opposite side, beyond the Canea road, were also ‘amateur infantry’, men of the New Zealand Divisional Petrol Company, but the ASC companies were withdrawn to positions round Galatas and replaced by 8 Greek Regiment.

Suda Bay and Maleme had been regularly bombed by the Luftwaffe for a fortnight or more, and daily Russell Force went religiously through the stand-to periods. There had been several Intelligence reports of the probable date of the attack and everyone was beginning to become a little sceptical.

On 19 May the Luftwaffe was considerably more active than usual, not just attending to two or three places, but ranging further afield.

Then came the 20th of May.

The air activity of the previous fortnight was continued in the morning, heavier than ever. High up were patrolling fighters. Below this screen, steadily coming in over the sea, were medium bombers and also dive-bombers and fighter-bombers which pounced, wailing and screaming, to bomb or strafe anything that looked like a target. It seemed that the day had arrived.

It was time to stand down for breakfast when transport planes began to come in over Maleme. Some were towing gliders, which they released to sail overhead towards the prison with an eerie, swishing sound that nobody had heard before. Each big lumbering transport, flying at the height of only a few hundred feet, began to spew out of its belly twelve forms which plummeted a few feet before their parachutes opened above them.

For a short while it seemed quite unlike the beginning of the fierce attack that it proved to be. A hush had settled over the whole valley as the bombing ceased. It was like that moment, after the whistling of the wind, when there is a muffled silence that makes you look up to the window and see the first flakes of a snowstorm.

But these snowflakes did not curl down lazily. They were coming straight down with a purpose. Below each one was dangling a man, armed—a man trained to kill.

Mostly they fell out of range on the far side of the reservoir. Two landed in the lake itself and took no further interest in the proceedings. The Greeks on the opposite side of the lake killed many, but except for some odd shots at long range, the Divisional Cavalry did little at first. John Russell himself did some good shooting on the crew of a quick-firing gun of about 40-millimetre calibre that landed near the road to the prison. Any parties of Germans that organised themselves and began to make towards the Div Cav positions were promptly discouraged, when they came near enough, by small-arms fire. It was later learned that many of them had been in several landings, all unopposed, and they were quite indignant to have been shot at.

A telephone line had been laid from Aghya to Brigade Headquarters but the first time it was required for a serious purpose it was discovered to be out of order. Major Russell sent Sergeant Hood

2 Lt W. A. Hood; Blenheim; born NZ 28 Oct 1916; accountancy clerk; twice wounded.

back as a runner, but he was wounded crossing some rising ground towards the prison. He returned with the news that this route was denied them, so Russell, appreciating the danger of being cut off and the fact that his force would be doing no good by staying, decided to carry out the Brigade Commander's previous instruction should these circumstances arise, and withdrew towards Galatas by making north over some steeply rising ground and then turning right to enter the town from the west.

The withdrawal began at two o'clock. Passing through the 4 Field Regiment positions, the Divisional Cavalry came under intermittent fire and took shelter for a while in a drain where there were some short bamboo stakes. A sliver from one of these ran into Major Russell's thigh as he stumbled, and made him lame for the rest of the campaign. He refused to allow himself to be taken to hospital, even when the wound began to fester and his leg to swell, but stayed with his men throughout the fighting.

There were two things reluctantly left at Aghya. One was a 15-cwt truck which had been issued only the day before and which had to be wrecked. The other was a sad and sentimental loss. Alan Sperry had to abandon his bagpipes. These had piped the regiment on its route marches from the first days in camp and it was sad that they should have to be left to fall into the unappreciating hands of the Philistines.

Approaching Galatas from the west, Russell Force had to cross some rising ground with wire along the crest. This spot was covered by enemy fire and had to be crossed in little groups. Each group, as it dashed up to the wire, found itself delayed in a very uncomfortable position. This delay might have caused casualties but for the coolness of Keith Stobie,

L-Cpl K. McD. Stobie; New Plymouth; born Feilding, 21 Nov 1908; joiner.

who had been one of the first to go up. He lay in some small cover by the fence and, as each group arrived, he stood up and parted the wires to let the men through quickly. Neither he nor any of the others was hit.

At this time Galatas was wide open to the Germans but their chief aim seemed to be to annihilate the Divisional Petrol Company positions west of the village lest, when they occupied it as they hoped, they would leave themselves with a flank there exposed to counter-attack.

The regiment entered the town unopposed. Most of the streets were deserted and, passing through them from the north to the south end, it was met by only a little intermittent fire from snipers. The Greek regiment to the south of the town between the left flank of the Petrol Company and 19 Battalion were very keen to fight, but they were armed only with captured Italian rifles with practically no ammunition. So Colonel Kippenberger sent Major Russell to stiffen up this part of the line with his men.

Russell extended his force into some sort of a line, and with surprisingly little bother they moved out to the south and began to probe towards 19 Battalion and the Petrol Company. It was a very uncomfortable position for the last hour before dark. The forward positions which they took up followed the general line of a stone wall supporting a terrace on the forward slope of the hill. A few scattered olive trees provided the only cover and the slope was under accurate enemy fire.

There were no prepared positions there and the men had to dig themselves in as best they could with tin hats, bayonets, jam-tins; anything, even their fingernails.

By now there had been nine casualties: six wounded and three killed—Lieutenant Studholme,

Lt M. P. Studholme; born NZ 2 May 1903; farmer; killed in action 20 May 1941.

Sergeant Van Asch

Sgt J. F. Van Asch; born Te Puke, 14 Mar 1917; shepherd; killed in action 20 May 1941.

and Trooper Wildash.

Tpr R. F. Wildash; born NZ 6 Sep 1911; garage attendant; killed in action 20 May 1941.

Blessed and welcome dusk allowed some respite.

The ground in the vicinity of the reservoir was by now occupied by a fairly numerous enemy, who therefore constituted quite a threat to the whole Division. Elements of these enemy troops had followed up the withdrawal to the Galatas area and appeared to be the vanguard of an attack designed to encircle the regiment. Two companies of 19 Battalion, together with three light tanks from 3 Hussars, were sent forward but were recalled next morning before they came to grips with the enemy in the prison area.

After dark, patrols were sent out, one as a standing patrol on the front of Pink Hill to secure that flank, and the others to reconnoitre. They found many Germans killed by 19 Battalion and the Petrol Company and arrived back with various enemy supplies and equipment, including entrenching tools, automatic weapons and ammunition, from a cache at the bottom of the hill. All these were put to good use. The weapons, with others that were captured later, were kept in action more or less until the evacuation, and the entrenching tools were much sought after by the men, some of whom had been digging with their bare hands.

The Divisional Cavalry position was bounded by two roads, both of them running from Galatas to the Canea-Alikianou road. The one on the right joined it just short of the prison, and that on the left, east of Cemetery Hill. B Squadron was on the right, C Squadron in the centre, and A Squadron joined 19 Battalion at the eastern road. In reserve were the Greeks, a band of somewhat varying strength, now under command of Captain Michael Forrester of the Queen's Royal Regiment.

On the 21st the Luftwaffe arrived at first light and the regiment had to accept, with everybody else, its share of bombing and machine-gunning. An A Squadron patrol opened the day with a grenade fight against a German patrol which it met at the top of a hill. The Germans got only second prize this time and withdrew.

On Cemetery Hill there were two enemy machine-gun posts threatening the A and C Squadron positions and part of the 19 Battalion area. Two platoons of the battalion attacked, supported by C Squadron and some light tanks of 3 Hussars. This attack also produced some useful loot in the form of four MMGs with ammunition. The hill soon came under heavy mortar fire and 19 Battalion had to withdraw. Nor could the enemy make use of it as they could not get support for it on one flank and it provided little cover; so it just became a no-man's land. But at least Div Cav found that it could now strengthen the line by pushing forward some posts. The action cost one man killed, Trooper Nicolson,

Tpr W. B. Nicolson; born NZ 15 Jun 1917; motor mechanic; killed in action 21 May 1941.

and four others wounded.

That night, as the men lay on the hillsides looking out to sea, they knew by the flashes and the glare that the seaborne enemy would never arrive. The Navy was cutting it to pieces.

The following morning, 22 May, started with a violent cannon and machine-gun attack on a nearby ridge by Me109s and 110s. It was a brilliant fireworks display, and very thrilling too, because one never knew whether the attack would switch suddenly and put the spectators to ground, taut with anticipation. But nothing of the sort happened and the attack died down. For the rest of the morning the regiment, and in particular A Squadron whom the aircraft could not get at owing to the contour of the hill, busied themselves by annoying parties of Germans around the prison with machine-gun fire. This was at rather long range but it at least retarded the enemy's activities.

During the afternoon the enemy aircraft came again in support of an attack on Galatas. This attack developed round the Petrol Company positions on Pink Hill and the flank of B Squadron. In one place the enemy broke through the Petrol Company's left flank, occupied the summit of Pink Hill, and threatened the regiment's right. A counter-attack by a troop under Lieutenant Wynyard with a platoon of 19 Battalion and some fifty or sixty Greeks was organised.

The previous day Captain H. M. Smith

Capt H. M. Smith, ED, MC (Gk); Dunedin; born Dunedin, 26 Apr 1906; journalist.

of 23 Battalion, who spoke some Greek, and Captain Forrester had made arrangements with Major Russell to keep the Greeks together if possible and hold them in reserve.

When the Germans occupied the summit of Pink Hill they set up their machine guns in a cluster of cottages dominating the ASC positions, on the slopes facing Galatas, and also those of the regiment, though to a lesser degree owing to the greater density of trees there. Nevertheless Russell realised that the situation was very dangerous to his B Squadron flank and took Sergeant-Major Seccombe round by the outskirts of the village to see how Div Cav could participate in the attack on the position. On the way they met the Greeks, their ranks now swelled by a collection of civilians from Galatas, including even the village policeman complete with shotgun, and women and children. This party they led round the slopes of Pink Hill to a little sunken road that skirted Galatas and which was, at one place, about 200 yards from the summit of the hill. Here Russell turned to Seccombe and said: ‘We've got to try and clear the top of the hill. See what you can do.’ He then went back to his headquarters.

Seccombe led the Greeks along the road to find the best point to launch the attack. They attracted some fire from the hill which unsettled the Greeks a little. They were hard enough to control at any time, since Seccombe's only means of indicating his intention to them was through a junior officer who spoke a little English, and whom they questioned fiercely all the time. The point that Seccombe chose for the attack was partly sheltered by the slope of the hill, and at the time the Germans were occupied in firing at the Petrol Company's positions to the right. This was most fortunate, for when Seccombe gave the order to charge and rushed up the hill a few paces, nobody followed. The Greeks were still too busy arguing the situation. Seccombe went back and tried again. He repeated this performance four or five times until the whole situation was becoming quite farcical. Then all of a sudden, with eyes rolling and with bloodthirsty yells, they surged after him brandishing rifles, Tommy guns, carving knives, bayonets. Their impetus carried them up the hill and right amongst the houses on the summit. There was only a handful of Germans there, but very well armed. They did not see the attack coming, and not one survived.

Once wound up to go the Greeks could not be unwound. They got the smell of blood and wanted to slaughter every German in Crete; the last the infantry platoon and Alan Barton's

Capt A. M. Barton; born NZ 17 Nov 1914; shepherd; p.w. 25 Oct 1942.

Div Cav troop, who were in support, saw of them, some were still going, headed for the prison nearly a mile away.

From down below, the rest of the regiment watched this performance. They realised its importance to their positions and in their excitement they stood up, wildly cheering it on like a football match, while three of them, Sergeant-Majors Conway

Lt F. G. Conway, DCM, EM; Seddon, Marlborough; born Blenheim, 24 Sep 1916; farmer.

and Chambers

WO II E. Chambers, m.i.d.; Christchurch; born Aust., 8 Aug 1914; diesel engineer; wounded 1 Sep 1942.

and Trooper Dalton,

Tpr J. J. Dalton; New Plymouth; born NZ 4 Apr 1917; farmhand.

climbed trees and brought deadly fire to bear on the retreating enemy.

The day's fighting cost the unit two more men killed, Corporal McDowall

Cpl H. C. McDowall; born London, 17 Mar 1910; railway employee; killed in action 22 May 1941.

and Corporal Marshall,

Cpl H. R. Marshall; born Marton, 17 Sep 1916; farmhand; killed in action 22 May 1941.

and eight more wounded; but twenty-five enemy were reported killed and a number of mortars and machine guns, with ammunition, were captured.

A feature of the fighting round Galatas seemed to be the ‘morning counter-attack’. After breakfast there would be a drive to push the enemy machine-gun posts back towards the prison and generally to remind the Hun that they were still there. The Germans usually retired with but little persuasion, so the attacks did have a good effect on the morale of the men. From the very beginning everyone considered himself far superior to his enemies and was impatient for an attack that would clean out the whole valley, right to Alikianou.

Major Russell's personality was an inspiration to the men. He positively exuded confidence as he waddled about amongst them; he always had walked with a roll, and now with his gashed leg stiffening, he had a decided limp. Men would do anything for him. Even when they were down to smoking tea- leavestealeaves rolled up in airmail paper, one trooper parted willingly with his last precious Craven A which the major spotted and demanded—he was a discriminating smoker—with the remark that if the trooper wanted the cigarette as much as he did, he would have smoked it long since.

Perhaps he had his men too confident. Sometimes they took some holding.

But high morale does not last for ever and by the morning of the 23rd the men were more restrained, having had several days of fairly hard fighting. After watching the enemy bombardment of Canea and seeing him receiving supplies all the time, and with the cumulative effects of the strafing by the Luftwaffe, they were now content to hold what they had; they suffered the aerial bombing and the mortar fire with more patience, but they continued to resent any intrusion.

On the 24th it was decided that two men should be placed in some dead ground ahead of the FDLs

Forward Defended Localities.

to report on any forward movement. Troopers Dean

Sgt A. J. P. Dean, m.i.d.; Tauranga; born Thames, 18 Oct 1915; mechanic.

and Kean

Tpr J. Kean; Christchurch; born Dunmurry, Nth Ireland, 9 Jul 1914; storeman; wounded 24 May 1941; p.w. 1 Jun 1941.

volunteered for this job. They crept down with binoculars and a rifle to where they could get a good view of the prison. Dean climbed into a tree and presently sent Kean back to report a mortar detachment ‘setting up shop’. The Germans must have seen Dean for they began by bombing all around him. He stuck it out for as long as he could but had to make a run for it after they had landed a bomb in the far side of his tree. But later, undeterred, the same two men set out with the intention of keeping watch until after dark. This time they stayed on the ground. After a while some Germans appeared out of the bushes about thirty yards below them and set up a machine gun with which they began to fire up a gully towards Galatas. Since there was only one rifle between them, Dean decided to crawl back and borrow one of his troop's two Bren guns. The Germans became suspicious and turned their gun towards Kean. He hung on, but they were using explosive bullets and some of these burst in the branches above him, wounding him in the back and shoulder. He crawled back, but not before the Germans had decided that the area was too unhealthy for them.

Like all the other New Zealanders the Div Cav men were natural looters and, in attack or patrol, every man had an eye for enemy equipment. A patrol would arrive back with a gun and ammunition and by next day someone had mastered it, had instructed others in its operation, and had turned it against its rightful owners. ‘Watty’ Weir

Sgt W. T. Weir, DCM, m.i.d.; Christchurch; born NZ 14 Sep 1907; bus driver; twice wounded.

and ‘Snowy’ Nicholas

Sgt V. R. Nicholas, m.i.d.; Hawera; born NZ 14 Jul 1919; motor mechanic; twice wounded.

earned fame for this. Nicholas sited his German gun a little behind the squadron lines where, for several days, he brought fire to bear round the German headquarters at the prison. Weir used his gun at great personal risk, and with such deadly effect during one attack which forced part of his squadron back, that he virtually halted the whole advance on his own, so allowing his mates to rally and organise a counter-attack which brought them back again into their original positions around him.

The 5th Brigade had been forced off the Maleme aerodrome by 22 May and from then on the troops had to watch, quite powerless to do anything about it, a stream of transport planes, seemingly endless and daily increasing in numbers, flying in low beyond Theodhoroi Island to deliver more troops and material to Crete.

Bombing and ground strafing also became worse each day. Over came the Stukas, circled a while to pick signals from their own troops or to watch for their flares, then down they came, nose to tail as if playing a kind of perpendicular leapfrog, motors screaming hysterically, mad malice in the very upswept line of their wings. Their bellies disgorged bombs which wobbled a little in the air, then steadied, then howled as if in anguish as they curved down to earth to throw up great billows of ugly smoke from a final ‘crump’ that sent angry shards buzzing into the trees: and the revelled air punched the bodies on the ground, slapped their faces and plucked at their clothes.

As the intensity of the air attack increased and the German ground forces were reinforced, so the volume of their mortar and machine-gun fire increased. For its part Russell Force managed to a certain extent to cope with this crescendo. Throughout the morning of the 25th they suffered the heaviest air blitz of the whole campaign. A general attack began to develop from about midday onwards. First the Divisional Cavalry and Petrol Company positions, to the south of Galatas, were warmly engaged and, as the afternoon drew on, repeated infantry thrusts were made, stronger and stronger, against Petrol Company round Pink Hill and against 18 Battalion on Wheat Hill, nearer the coast. B and C Squadrons brought down enfilade fire on this flank, halting these thrusts and allowing the line to hold fast.

Eventually the attack overwhelmed one company of the 18th, and the enemy concentrated against this breach. A first counter-attack failed, but a second one did manage to stop it a little farther back. The rattle of machine-gun and rifle fire developed into a steady roar, punctuated with the ‘scream-and-bomp’ of the rapid mortar fire.

Towards evening the pressure against Div Cav began to increase until the troopers realised that they no longer needed to feel awed by the volume of fire raining down on their right; they were getting almost as much themselves.

Galatas had become the key to Crete.

Then suddenly Wheat Hill, the key to Galatas, was lost; abandoned with little or no warning. This exposed the centre of 18 Battalion's line and every man in the regiment, even though fully occupied with his own front, could tell that the 18th, somewhere, were falling back eastwards through Galatas, fighting stubbornly as they gave ground.

By eight o'clock it appeared that the whole of the battalion was east of the village, because Div Cav, still heavily engaged on its own front, was beginning to surfer sniping from the village behind it. Be that as it may, the men of Petrol Company and Div Cav, left ‘in the air’ now with their right flank wide open, had been impressed with the stubbornness with which the 18th had fought back as they were forced to retire, and they were fully determined to follow the example. Russell sent word back to Colonel Kippenberger reporting his position, but since the enemy had eased the pressure a little, he continued to hang on.

Then, towards dark, the firing all around began to intensify and the mortars to whistle down again. B and C Squadrons still kept up heavy fire to deny the enemy access to their front and the ASC's, whilst about half of A Squadron was withdrawn and formed into a reserve. The Germans had had one experience of attacking the Petrol Company area through the enfilade fire from Div Cav and, not surprisingly, this had been enough. They remained content to answer with a fair amount of fire, from a sensible distance.

At last came the counter-attack into Galatas which would extricate these two units. Behind them, within the village itself, could be heard the unmistakable sound of two Vickers guns. Of all the British weapons, the Vickers gun is the easiest to distinguish because of its absolutely perfect rhythm—the rhythm that is so steadying to fluttering nerves and so demoralising to an enemy. These guns were in two tanks of 3 Hussars: Mark VIs, the very kind that Div Cav had wanted ever since it arrived in Egypt. Their firing stopped for a while and then, after a gap of twenty minutes or half an hour, started again accompanied by the uproar of a bayonet charge.

Now immortal for its ferocity, this attack by two companies of 23 Battalion and parties of 18 and 20 Battalions was designed to retake Galatas and re-form the line, or if that were impossible, at least to extricate the units still there. But though the village was regained, it was yielded again on divisional orders during the night, and the men reluctantly retired. A shorter line had been established to the east.

Major Russell and Captain Rowe,

Capt H. A. Rowe, MC; Piha; born Hokitika, 12 Aug 1914; salesman; OC Pet Coy 20 May-1 Jun 1941; p.w. 1 Jun 1941.

in command of the Divisional Petrol Company, had been firmly resisting a vindictive enemy all the afternoon and, by the evening, they had no justification to hold on much longer. They therefore withdrew, the Divisional Cavalry taking the eastwards route on to Church Hill behind 19 Battalion. The withdrawal was anything but easy as there were planes overhead waiting to pounce on anything that moved, and the men had to work up along a ridge exposed to machine-gun fire from the enemy north of Galatas. They suffered five casualties, including Lieutenant J. G. Wynyard, who had his lower jaw shattered by a bullet.

By the time it was fully dark all three squadrons were on Church Hill and for some hours they dug positions there.

At one o'clock in the morning of the 26th they were ordered to join what was left of 21 Battalion, under command of Lieutenant-Colonel Allen,

Lt-Col J. M. Allen, m.i.d.; born Cheadle, England, 3 Aug 1901; farmer; MP (Hauraki) 1938–41; CO 21 Bn May-Nov 1941; killed in action 28 Nov 1941.

on the main coast road, about half-way between Canea and Galatas. Colonel Allen formed a position in two lines which straddled the road. The battalion, now reduced more or less to one company strength, was south of the road and nearest Galatas with C Squadron in support. On the other side of the road was a company of New Zealand Engineers supported by A Squadron. A few hundred yards behind C Squadron was a company of 20 Battalion, and across the road, between there and the beach, was B Squadron.

These positions were on a feature which became nicknamed ‘Hellfire Hill’—and rightly so. The Divisional Cavalry arrived there after a night's digging, followed by a long tiresome march in the dark with no food and very little water. Like everybody else they were now far from fighting fit. All through that day they were bombed from the air and mortared from the ground, and machine-gunned from both.

The Germans had, under a flag of truce as it seemed, set up a machine-gun post on the right flank. This caused many casualties among the men as they tried to take shelter under the grape vines. In the area was a CCS in a building, and during the morning an emissary was sent up from there to tell Div Cav that if they did not remove their right forward machine-gun post, the enemy, in their efforts to knock it out, would endanger this hospital.

So the post had to go, leaving the engineer company, already very tired, in an exposed position and unable to retaliate, to suffer punishment and casualties by heavy mortaring from the direction of Galatas. The Divisional Cavalry lost two killed, Sergeant Edwards

Sgt R. G. Edwards; born NZ 17 Apr 1915; motor mechanic; killed in action 26 May 1941.

and Corporal G. W. Smith,

Cpl G. W. Smith; born NZ 22 Nov 1918; farmer; killed in action 26 May 1941.

and several wounded, during the day. For this punishment all they could claim by way of retaliation was a motor-cycle combination knocked out by an anti-tank rifle and several snipers liquidated. They had, however, with the use of their machine guns, prevented the enemy from getting round the right flank during the middle of the morning.

It was a terrible day, the 26th, and one can imagine the depth of feeling which prompted Alex Atchison to write in his diary:

‘We could see the Huns bringing up mortars but could do very little about it. Late in the afternoon he began plastering us so that we were pleased when darkness came. A long—long day. Hell from the air.’

Darkness that night eased the strain on only a few of the senses. After midnight, together with 21 Battalion, the troopers marched back six or seven miles to arrive near Suda Bay at four in the morning. They passed through an area where parachutists had been dropped on the first day of the attack, only a week—but a week of ages—ago. These parachutists had been completely wiped out, and for some hundreds of yards the men marched through the stink of rotting flesh. Overhead the Luftwaffe still hovered like vultures. Unlike vultures they were not content to wait for death but did all they could to hurry it along. As if resolved to force their prey to collapse and die of mental exhaustion, the planes continuously dropped parachute flares which lit the place like day. Nerves now taut with the week's punishment seemed to knot up inside, until they could almost be felt physically, like twisted rubber bands; and nothing did those torturing aircraft do but drop their fiendish flares to hang in the sky while they flew back for more.

‘All that day we had longed for darkness—and all that night we prayed for daylight to release us from this ruthless persecution.’

The 21st Battalion took up a position at 42nd Street. This was a track near Suda Bay. It took its name from the 42nd Field Company, RE, which had been working on supply routes and dumps in this neighbourhood for some months. The Divisional Cavalry was again the reserve for the battalion here. Until daylight some men dug themselves in. Others, physically more tired—or stronger in the nerves—preferred to take their chance by day and stole some sleep.

Daylight on the 27th brought little attention from the enemy, but by eight o'clock he began to press forward again. Ammunition was running short and, what was worse, men were thirsty and hungry. The day was hot, but despite their parched throats the men still worked to improve their trenches. Here they did at least have shovels. At Suda Bay there were more shovels than they had ever dreamt of and they used them willingly, remembering a long week ago when they had bruised their fingers and barked their knuckles and broken their nails wrenching up rocks at Galatas to make shelter.

The line now ran almost due south from the most western point of Suda Bay. Touching the sea and in front of Suda village itself were 19 Australian Infantry Brigade, and on its left was 5 New Zealand Brigade.

In the middle of the morning the enemy infantry began to make contact with this line and, by 10.30 a.m., had arrived in strength. The 19th, 28 (Maori), and 23 Battalions, together with 2/7 Australian Battalion, counter-attacked with the bayonet and pushed the enemy back a full three-quarters of a mile along the whole front. Some men of Div Cav followed the Maoris in. Many of them had no bayonets but, considering whom they were supporting, this was a negligible worry. The Maoris were only too thorough in their work. The Divisional Cavalry had no need for bayonets; many German dead were left on the field from the fire of their rifles and machine guns.

On the night of the 26th two battalions of Commandos had been landed at Suda Bay, too late to help defend Crete, but not too late to help cover the withdrawal of the forces already there. By the afternoon of the 27th the Australian and New Zealand line, running south from the coast, consisted of 19 Australian Brigade, 21 Battalion with Div Cav in reserve, 19 Battalion and 22 Battalion. Now there was a danger that the Germans would make a drive in an easterly direction, south of 22 Battalion, and cut off the only line of retreat to the south coast—the road across the hills to Sfakia.

A general move towards Stilos, on the road to Sfakia, was ordered after dark on the 27th. The Divisional Cavalry was amongst the first to be drawn back. At nine o'clock the men began to move towards Stilos, arriving there at 4 a.m. They formed the extreme right of a defensive line, with 23 Battalion on their left and 19 Battalion to the left again. Here they managed to catch some sleep until daylight. Nothing much happened on the ground in the morning until the enemy opened fire on 19 Battalion about eight o'clock. Before this there was a certain amount of activity in the air, but by this time everybody had become inured to air attack. Men had become filled with a sluggish disregard for aircraft—a sort of desperation of weariness—and considered only the enemy on the ground. Against him at least they had a chance to retaliate.

About 10 a.m., A and C Squadrons made contact with enemy patrols moving across their front and prepared to make a counter-attack. They were moving out over some flat country with plenty of cover in swampy ground that wet some of them up to their bellies, when orders were received to withdraw through Vrises towards Sfakia. Each squadron left its LMGs to cover its withdrawal. When they had done this the LMG crews covered each other's retirement: some guns fired over the whole front as the others moved back and took up new positions, whence they in turn could give covering fire. The last two gun-crews were nearly cut off, but they escaped by wading down a canal and were rescued by two tanks which happened along at the critical moment, and upon which they clambered after a desperate sprint.

During this action there were three casualties to mortar fire, of whom Trooper Weight

Tpr D. V. Weight; born Wanganui, 9 May 1914; tractor driver; killed in action 28 May 1941.

was killed and Trooper Graham,

Tpr J. C. Graham; born NZ 1 Feb 1919; labourer; wounded 28 May 1941; died of wounds while p.w. 20 Jun 1941.

wounded, died later as a prisoner of war. A timely diversion probably prevented a greater number of casualties. A large column of Italian prisoners of war, who had been held in Crete, had been let loose and they went straggling down the road towards the German lines, inadvertently blocking, at the critical moment, the enemy's line of fire.

So the last, and worst, march began. There was a long and gruelling climb ahead of the retreating troops. Overhead the Luftwaffe was not active—fortunately so—for had there been any strafing, many would have been killed. The men were too tired to care: too tired to be frightened: too tired to take cover. They marched until 2.30 p.m., when they reached a small village at the foot of the pass where they halted and lay dispersed under cover. About an hour before dark they began to climb the pass, slowly and painfully. The columns in front were constantly halting. When this happened, try as they might to prevent it, some would fall asleep, officers and men, and it was difficult to keep the troops together and moving.

Lieutenant Atchison writes of this march:

‘At 6 p.m. we started the up grade over the mountain towards Sphakia. A great number of the boys had sore feet, and just wanted to sleep, not caring what happened. I felt proud of my troop.

‘Sometimes ahead of me I noticed some of them carrying two rifles and supporting some poor devil who had all but thrown in the towel.

‘At times we in the rear were not too gentle with poor chaps who had given up hope and just wanted to sleep till the enemy caught up with them.

‘It was a gruelling night, but very peaceful as far as noise was concerned—no shots, no aircraft.’

About the middle of the night they reached the top of the pass and laid up in some deserted houses where they stayed most of the next day, the 29th. Again, men just slept where they fell. They pooled their rations and had one meagre meal: about two biscuits and a sip of water to each man. Here Major Harford took over command. Major Russell, not before he had been assured that his men would be evacuated the following night, allowed himself to be taken off. Together with some walking wounded, he had succeeded in reaching the top of the hill only by pure grit. They had managed to hitch-hike a little as there were a few vehicles of sorts going up; but guts—the will to win—had got them there.

When men are hard-pressed there are always some characters which rise above all difficulties to bear the others up with them. Of such was John Russell.

Another, though less conspicuous figure, was Lieutenant J. W. Reeves, ‘Hellfire Jack’ or ‘Jeeves’, the quartermaster for the campaign. He was a born ‘scrounger’. On the first wild evening at Galatas he found some old benzine tins and the ingredients for a soupy stew, which he dispensed to everybody when darkness had spread its comforting mantle and the reaction was just setting in after the fury of the day's fighting. All that week he spun out the meagre rations so that the cook could put them to their best use. Then, on the final punishing, thirsty march over the hills, he rose to his best occasion. He walked miles on raw and blistered feet looking for water—and found it. It was in an old well and somewhat foul, and all he could find to put it in were some filthy tins; but to the men, as they filed past him and drank and filled their bottles, it was Elysian nectar. Jack Reeves had found the something that spurred their failing strength enough to finish the journey.

A fairy godmother usually does act inconspicuously. There was another like Jack Reeves who was now more or less voluntarily in enemy hands. He was Jim Cameron,

L-Cpl J. B. Cameron, m.i.d.; England; born NZ 23 Jul 1907; motor driver; wounded 15 Apr 1941; p.w. 25 May 1941.

medical corporal from C Squadron. At Galatas, Jim took over a little brick hut which was used for drying olives. It was very close to the road that ran past Pink Hill to the prison. In this building, which was exposed to all the bombing and machine-gunning and which attracted as much or more than its share, he tended the wounded. After the charge on Pink Hill the hut was full and overfull of wounded and dying. The doctor was elsewhere, so Jim acted as doctor, nurse and orderly to friend and enemy alike. He stayed with them when Galatas was overrun, and later, after the evacuation, was taken to Kalivia. Here again he continued to tend the wounded until he was taken away to the mainland of Greece.

In doing all this he gave everything that was his best. He had a heart great in proportion to his stature and it was set in the right place. To stay with the wounded must have broken his heart, so that one part went with his friends who escaped the island while the other remained to maintain life until the end of the war, through the years of anguished longing for freedom.

The Divisional Cavalry rested throughout most of the 30th on top of the range, the men taking what shelter they could from the hot sun and gazing towards the cool sea. Each one could have drunk a gallon without drawing breath. A check revealed the regiment's strength at this stage to be 14 officers and 105 other ranks. Apart from the ten killed in action, one more, Trooper Seaton,

Tpr G. A. T. Seaton; born NZ 24 Oct 1918; lorry driver; died of wounds while p.w. 30 May 1941.

died of wounds while a prisoner of war. Seven more were to be lost as prisoners of war and with them another nine wounded. One man reported missing later escaped the island and came back to Egypt. There had been 4 officers and 36 other ranks wounded and some of them were still with the unit.

While they were resting, Divisional Cavalry was given orders that it was to act as rearguard to 19 Australian Brigade, but later the orders were countermanded and the men slept in the same positions till five o'clock the next morning. Then they began to move down towards the coast, hundreds of feet below, near to Force Headquarters.

A few vehicles had come over the mountains with the first troops. These had been bombed and set on fire and the charred remains of bodies were scattered about and in the twisted metal. The sight of these and the horrible smell of decay made everyone wonder at the inactivity of the Luftwaffe. The retiring troops perhaps were not the only tired men on the island.

Down near Force Headquarters there were wells, and as the men settled amongst the pine trees on the rocky hillside, all who could were ordered to shave.

There was water to drink. And food: from where, Heaven only knows, but Jack Reeves had gleaned some—about three teaspoonfuls of M & V per man or a 12-ounce tin of bully beef to seven men. Some found a few broad beans in a garden and ate them raw.

The last day on Crete can best be described directly from Alex Atchison's diary:

‘… from a nearby well we drank our fill and filled water- bottleswaterbottles. The water cheered everyone considerably. We rested all morning.

‘In the afternoon 20 O/R's and an Officer from each squadron were asked to go back up the mountain to reinforce the position there.

‘When my troop volunteered to a man I could do nothing else but volunteer too. We built up the 20 O/R's from other troops and started up the mountain….’

Just imagine their tired legs starting to tremble with the strain on the way up and forcing them to rest!

‘… Robbie

Lt H. A. Robinson.

took the A Squadron boys. The hours up there seemed like days particularly when we thought we would be staying there. Excepting for m.g. fire going over our heads occasionally there wasn't much doing.

‘After dark we were withdrawn and moved back to our units. I felt happy. Later in the night we marched over the rocky country to Sphakia. We had a small meal yesterday and nothing but water and two biscuits today. My boots are through to my feet.

‘Shortly after midnight we boarded barges and were taken out to the H.M.S. Abdiel, a modern mine-layer in commission only a few months.

‘Only organised parties could be taken off. We passed through a unit with fixed bayonets to keep the odds and sods off. It seemed hard on them.

‘The ship's crew gave us biscuits and hot cocoa. It seemed the best meal we had ever had. Afterwards the Officers brought us whiskey and offered us their beds. Everyone was so tired that I am sure those who slept on the floor were just as happy as the ones with beds.

‘At 4.30 a.m. the ship moved off and so ended Crete for us: but what of the poor devils still there?’

CHAPTER 7 Reorganisation and Back to the Desert

The division had been beaten in battle; beaten by an enemy whom the New Zealanders considered, man to man, was not their equal. But they had lost. The campaigns in Greece and Crete were an unhappy introduction to battle.

A dangerous sense of frustration could be discerned in every man in Helwan. You could recognise it in the criticism of other units; in the bitter nickname given to the RAF—the ‘R’ stood for its rarity—which had been pounded into the ground tackling odds a hundred times more hopeless than the Army's. In the NAAFIs you could hear men remark, after 22 June, that Russia would collapse in a fortnight. All these are the symptoms of that defeatism which signifies low morale.

How was this state of affairs to be righted? Give the men something to do, some interest, and give it straight away. The strength of every soldier, and the New Zealander is no exception, lies in his self-discipline. That appeals to his pride and stiffens his morale.

Only about half of the Divisional Cavalry had come straight from Greece to Helwan. They had arrived in the early morning, exhausted. After a hot meal they were each given a blanket and a palliasse. They took these to the huts and were soon fast asleep. In the afternoon a large mail arrived and there were few who did not get a parcel. The next day new clothes were issued and a routine drawn up. By the end of the first week the regiment had been issued with no fewer than thirty new carriers.

Major Nicoll, who was in command while Lieutenant-Colonel Carruth was in hospital, spoke to the regiment, stressing the vital necessity of hard training and firm discipline. The reaction was immediate. Despite the heat, despite their chaffing against authority, men began to look to their new vehicles, their crews, their troops, and took interest. You could see the pride rising in the way they trooped off to the tailors in their spare time to have their clothes altered to fit smartly.

But those were anxious days in May 1941. Everyone had a best friend in Crete and all through the month they worried; worried in the heat of Helwan. There were route marches and parades. They drank their beer in the Naafi or sat in the suffocating heat of the cinema; they lost their money on the Crown and Anchor boards—there was a wave of gambling in the Division at the time—and all the while they worried. Before the fighting began some men arrived from Crete, bringing with them a freshening breath of high morale. Mostly they were men who had escaped from Greece after the evacuation and they brought news of friends still alive.

But it was work and interest that kept spirits from falling to dangerous levels. The acting CO, true to form, demanded smartness on parade. Wisely was he firm and prompt in dealing with defaulters, for had he been indulgent, the lesser crimes would have opened the door for more serious offences.

Thus by the end of May a firm foundation of discipline, smartness and orderliness had been relaid, upon which on 3 June those who arrived from Crete tired and battle-weary could rebuild their own self-reliance which, in their case too, was threatening to crumble.

At that time there was something else in the regiment that made every man keen. A rumour went the rounds.

Rumour based on fact is marked by certain peculiarities which force the most sceptical to give it thought and decide that, in time, it will be authenticated. It is always vague; it is backed by no tangible source of reliability; one hears it only casually; it seems to be whispered through the air rather than to come by word of mouth: but it persists. Such a rumour went round that the Divisional Cavalry was to supply a cadre for an armoured training school in New Zealand. On 1 June the rumour came a step nearer to reality when thirty-nine other ranks were marched out to the RAC School at Abbassia to take instructors' courses.

The very next day a large detail of reinforcements was marched in from the Composite Training Depot, and the regiment was once again up to full strength. In their keenness alone these reinforcements came like a breath of fresh air. Their spirit was high, for in New Zealand most of them had been moulded into soldiers by a notable soldier, a man who was proven brave, who had himself absorbed—and even inspired a little—the spirit of the 1st NZEF; who had already visited Div Cav to see what was needed. He was Lieutenant-Colonel R. P. Harper, DSO, MC, DCM.

Captain, Canterbury Mounted Rifles and OC NZ Machine Gun Squadron in 1914–18 War; appointed Area Commander, South Canterbury, 1941.

And so the regiment, having licked its wounds, settled down to hard training and steady routine in the summer heat. Men took their leave and came back impecunious but freshened. There were the divisional sports at the Maadi Club and swimming sports in the Helwan baths; there was leave to Cairo at nights; and all the time they trained, looking to the day when they would yet be able to prove that they could beat any enemy that met them.

Lieutenant-Colonel Carruth took over command of the Composite Training Depot on 26 July and was succeeded as CO by Major Nicoll, promoted lieutenant-colonel.

About this time there was a lot of celebrating to be done. There were reunions of every body or club or type of civil employment. Some men seemed able to produce a birthday once a week, and that of course coincided with pay-day. Failing that there would be someone's second cousin's wedding anniversary, or a wife had won a free ticket in the next Tattersall's consultation. Anything was an excuse for a party, with spirits running high. They were great days. Those who had gone to Abbassia had completed their courses and, 7 officers and 66 other ranks in all, were soon off home. They had to be farewelled. One of the regiment's officers, Captain Crisp,

Maj P. S. Crisp; Blenheim; born Invercargill, 15 Nov 1913; local body officer; DAQMG, 2 NZEF (UK) Reception Gp, Sep 1944-Dec 1945; wounded 5 Nov 1942.

was married in the Cairo Cathedral to Miss Winifred Johnson. The officers' mess had presented him with a salver inscribed with the regimental badge and, excepting those on duty at the time, they all attended his wedding. Indeed they were great days.

Soon one could see signs of an impending move from Base. On 22 August the arrival of fourteen new carriers brought that part of the establishment up to full strength, and by the end of the month, except for a few motor-cycles, the full quota of ‘B’ vehicles had been taken over. Training had got to the stage of manoeuvres and the regiment had been out to the south of the camp on several exercises, alone and with the brigades. On one of these, incidentally, it had narrowly missed being shot up by the Artillery, who were firing a live shell barrage.

Early in September the regiment began to prepare for a move. Base kits were sent to store, messes were disbanded and barrack equipment returned to Ordnance, and on the 14th an advanced party, under the second-in-command, Major Russell, left Helwan for the Western Desert.

Here the Division had a role in the major desert strategy. Whilst completing its training it had to man the defensive ‘box’ at Baggush which the First Echelon had built the year before. This was one of a series of fortresses that sprang into being along the coast of Cyrenaica and Egypt—at Mersa Matruh, at Tobruk, and at Maaten Baggush. In a month or two Div Cav were to find themselves, under command of 3 South African Brigade, attacking a similar fortress at Bardia. The Baggush Box had on its perimeter, and within it, a system of concrete pillboxes, wire and minefields. For a while, under command of 4 Infantry Brigade, the Divisional Cavalry had to man one sector. This occupied two troops from each squadron until early in October, when the regiment again came under command of the Division and moved down to the coast to Ilwet ez Zeitun, just outside the eastern boundary of the Box.

The Divisional Cavalry had no tactical function while at Ilwet ez Zeitun and could concentrate on training and on attaining physical fitness. The area was clean and there were no flies. The ground was unsuitable for football but space was cleared for hockey, which was played hard and with enthusiasm. The coastline consisted of a series of rocky ledges and was therefore unsuitable for bathing, except when the sea was dead calm and the men could bathe in the pools between the rocks. What they did discover, though, was that the rocks harboured quite a lot of fish. Some men had success with line and rod but soon a more interesting means came into vogue. The mines laid nearby were of local manufacture and were easily dismantled. They contained gelignite. If you could find fuse and detonators —in other words, if you had sapper friends—well, as the French say: ‘What would you?’ A single bomb on one occasion brought to the surface enough fish to feed one squadron.

In certain parts of the regiment, however, mines were a more touchy subject. Several times during September, officers went out to the forward areas on reconnaissance. The first of these parties ran on to a minefield south of Charing Cross. One truck was blown up and damaged and Major Sutherland sustained a severely bruised leg.

This month, too, marked another item of historical interest. The GOC gave the regiment permission to wear black berets whilst on leave from the desert. Officially all headgear changed with the seasons, but never after that, summer or winter, could Div Cav be persuaded to wear any other head-dress.

September and October are two of the most pleasant months in the desert. Along the coast the weather is cool and the wind fresh. The nights are damp but the dew disappears at dawn with the first ray of sunlight.

By the middle of October the regiment had been out on exercises south of Baggush, twice working with brigade groups and once alone. These exercises involved the necessity of being able to find one's way about by means of compass and map, but thanks to previous training, the standard of navigation was high. And it had to be—at night, on a featureless desert. Moreover, the unit administration was tested under such difficult conditions and proved to be working smoothly.

Then AFVs began to arrive for the tank troops. They were light tanks, Mark VI, and though old, they were well equipped and in sound mechanical condition, having only just been overhauled. Some came direct from Abbassia, some from Divisional Workshops, and some from Mersa Matruh from a Hussar regiment that had been re-equipped. Twenty-six arrived by the end of October—two fewer than the regimental establishment. They were allotted to squadrons and training in them was pushed on apace.

The Mark VI tank was, for those days, quite fast. It was not heavily armoured but relied on its speed to get out of trouble. It was powered by a Meadows Marine engine with an ordinary ‘crash’ gearbox. The suspension was very similar to that of a Bren carrier, though the tracks were a little wider and there were four bogey wheels instead of three. It carried a crew of three: driver, commander and gunner-wireless operator. The turret had an all-round traverse and carried two Vickers guns adapted for tanks, of .303-inch and .5-inch calibre, the latter firing armour-piercing solid shot similar to that of a Boys rifle. These guns were co-axially mounted and had a common telescopic sight. Every tank had wireless communication. Though the wireless set was the responsibility of the gunner-operator, in action the actual working of the set was arranged as the job of the commander.

The matter of operating the wireless brings up a question of some importance which might have been, but fortunately never was, driven home with tragic emphasis. The Divisional Cavalry, in the first three years of the war, was always short of wireless operators. This was possibly due to the fact that men are more prepared to become proficient in manual rather than mental dexterity, and there was never a surfeit of men who were keen to master the techniques of tuning a wireless set, of observing a strict procedure whilst talking, of learning to talk in the prescribed jargon, or of mastering the Morse code. A trained wireless operator had to be able to do all this as well as to execute minor repairs. Now, every man was capable to a greater or lesser extent of driving any vehicle in the regiment; everyone could handle the weapons with accuracy; but never more than one man in five was capable of pushing a switch from ‘Receive’ to ‘Send’ at the right instant and saying: ‘O.K.—Off.’ The degree of proficiency required for this was small and the occasion when it would be needed, other than for regular operators, would only be when in actual contact with the enemy; and that is when communication is most vital. Yet, though an operator could become a casualty just as easily as any man, as often as not there was no one else in his crew to carry out his responsibilities, even for a few minutes. His vehicle—and if that were a carrier, his whole troop—was completely out of touch and therefore out of control. In any case, if the operator was also the gunner, in action his hands and head were far too full to be working on a wireless set; again, he was out of touch at a time when communication was vital.

The Signals Officer was fully aware of this dangerous state of affairs, but he was of junior rank and not in a position to insist that all crew commanders be trained in at least R/T

Radio Telephony.

procedure, so that not until the end of the African campaign were there any serious steps taken in this direction. Most of the senior officers were content to snap up any good wireless operators and hold them at all costs until they ‘cracked’.

It seems, therefore, that the lesson is that every man in every vehicle should be interchangeable, and should be regularly inter- changedinterchanged. For that matter, if ever again a war comes, and if a man, irrespective of the arm of the service he is in, intends to survive it, let him make sure that he can work the wireless set. No body of men can afford to trust entirely its communications to one individual.

There was blood in the sun as it went down on 6 November. West of the Div Cav lines much transport had been moving in the Baggush Box and a haze of dust ‘like the Pomptine fog at morn’ hung in the lazy atmosphere. As the sun went down its white light turned slightly lemon which, as the sun dropped behind the haze, tinged from yellow to gold; and the lower it crept, deeper behind the dust, it took the colour of violence— and yet of beauty. You could look boldly at its orb glowing like a polished blood-orange. All around, the haze merged from pink to rose and the whole sky was crimson as the sun hovered doubtfully on a distant escarpment before disappearing, as it does under those skies, with dramatic suddenness under the curtain of night.

In the Divisional Cavalry lines that evening all was bustle. Carriers and tanks were packed with heed, each man taking meticulous care to stow his gear in a way that would not impair the fighting efficiency of his vehicle.

In the morning the fighting squadrons moved out independently and took the main road to Mersa Matruh. Past Matruh they took the Siwa road and travelled south for an hour or so before swinging west into the desert. At dusk they laagered and the next day continued by easy stages. On the 9th they ambled on whilst the CO visited the headquarters of 4 Indian Division. The next day RHQ, B and C Squadrons, under command of 4 Indian Division, moved to Alam el Seneini whilst A Squadron went forward about ten miles to come under command of 4 South African Armoured Car Regiment; HQ Squadron remained about 12 miles back with the South Africans' B Echelon.

So the major part of the regiment lay up well concealed and waited for the word to go. The Central India Horse, who were to patrol west of the Wire, handed over to A Squadron the task of patrolling a ten-mile stretch of the east side and of manning three observation posts there. B Squadron sent one patrol through the Wire to reconnoitre the Trigh el Abd as far as Bir Gibni.

One troop of 65 Anti-Tank Regiment and a troop of 57 Light Anti-Aircraft Regiment were placed under command of the Divisional Cavalry. This latter troop distinguished itself on the 14th by shooting down an Italian ‘recce’ plane at El Rabta. During the week an Air Support Control tentacle was attached to the regiment.

Just east of Sheferzen, then, the Divisional Cavalry, as part of the Division, waited to move forward when the whole Eighth Army rolled into Libya. The New Zealanders had been tried once. If they had lost every battle they had not lost their pride, for every man knew there was no need for shame; they had been tried but not found wanting; they had been beaten by superior weight and lack of support. But this time they had everything with them. The Allies had superiority in the air and equality of numbers in tanks. The men had stout hearts and were trained to the limit; they were fighting fit. The Army was going forward in its own chosen time.

The regiment's principal appointments during the second Libyan offensive were as follows:

Commanding Officer Lt-Col A. J. Nicoll Second-in-Command Maj J. T. Russell, DSO Adjutant Capt J. L. Rayner OC A Squadron Maj J. H. Sutherland, MC Second-in-Command Capt G. H. Stace OC B Squadron Maj J. H. Garland Second-in-Command Capt E. R. Andrews OC C Squadron Maj I. L. Bonifant Second-in-Command Capt A. Van Slyke OC HQ Squadron Capt R. B. McQueen Medical Officer Capt J. R. J. Moore, NZMC Padre Rev. H. G. Taylor, CF

CHAPTER 8 The ‘Crusader’ Campaign

When german troops arrived on the North African scene early in 1941 they refreshed the badly defeated Italian army there; moreover, General Wavell was committed to fighting over an enormous area, for he was conducting operations in Eritrea, he had troops opening an offensive in the Balkans, he had the task of overcoming the Vichy French in Syria, and as further distraction there was a revolt in Iraq. It is small wonder then that General Rommel, who had decided, as it were, to stretch his legs in front of the El Agheila positions, should, when he found himself only lightly opposed, make a bid—a largely successful bid—to recapture Cyrenaica.

But Wavell was a man of foresight. As he withdrew towards Egypt he left an uncomfortable thorn in the side of the Axis troops by turning Tobruk into a fortress which was to be held regardless of the cost. By doing this he constricted the Axis line of communication by the constant threat to its flank, and the Axis forces could not therefore advance with any degree of safety beyond the Egyptian border until Tobruk was in their hands. And so, when General Auchinleck formed the Eighth Army and began to prepare an offensive, the first step was to seek out and destroy the enemy armour and then relieve Tobruk.

During the summer the Axis forces had been busy building up a series of defended areas along the border from Sollum as far south as Sidi Omar. Tactical surprise could not be obtained by a frontal assault on this line so the attack was to go round its flank.

The Eighth Army was divided into four groups. The 30th Corps, containing the bulk of the armour, was detailed primarily to destroy the enemy armoured forces and also to link up with the fourth group, namely 70 Division in Tobruk, which was to be making a sortie to meet it. The 13th Corps, the second group, comprising a greater proportion of infantry, was given the job of surrounding and destroying the frontier forts one by one; then, once the Axis army had had its claws drawn, it was to drive forward and destroy what remained. The third group does not come into this story. It was based on the oases to the

the advance into libya, 18–21 november 1941black and white map of cavalry movement south and had the task of creating a diversion against the lines of communication round Benghazi and, if possible, seizing that port.

The offensive was timed to start on 18 November and 13 Corps, less the New Zealand Division, was to take up a line from Sheferzen to the escarpment overlooking the coast south-east of Sollum, thus containing the enemy positions from the east and denying any sortie south and east into Egypt. The New Zealand Division was to pass through the Wire north of and parallel with 30 Corps, then wait until the time came to strike northwards.

For a week Div Cav had been lying up east of the frontier, under the command of 4 Indian Division, well camouflaged and waiting for the day. Some troops had been doing the routine patrolling of the Wire itself and one patrol had slipped along the Trigh el Abd as far as Bir Gibni without incident; but at dusk on 17 November the crews pulled off their camouflage nets and stowed them. Regimental Headquarters and A Squadron moved up to laager opposite El Beida; C Squadron drove along ahead of the Division to laager facing El Rabta; while B Squadron came under command of 7 Indian Infantry Brigade. This brigade continued forward, screened by B Squadron, across the Wire at El Beida and made towards Bir Gibni. Thus B Squadron became the first British troops in the whole operation to move over the border; that is apart from the Oasis Group, the LRDG and the SAS,

Special Air Service.

who of course were no respecters of any borders or frontiers.

Those on picket that night could sense in the sky a preview of events. The wind blew from the north from under frowning clouds which seemed occupied with their own battle. Brilliant lightning was stabbing between the cloud layers as if Mars and Thor were brawling, Mars ripping with drunken illiterate hand a great shaky ‘Y’ of lightning which lit the earth below, each flash followed by Thor's growl of defiance rumbling between the clouds.

Dawn on the 18th disclosed a kind of restlessness over the desert, where units and parts of formations were jockeying themselves into position. This restlessness appeared gradually to impart momentum throughout the day to the whole Army, until in the late afternoon the desert was covered with a moving mass of machinery plunging steadily forward. Then it was and here it was that every man in Div Cav, forming the spear tip of this powerful thrust, was overtaken with a feeling of minuteness—a minuteness within which was compressed, nevertheless, unlimited vitality—and overwhelmed with a feeling of pride. Within a man's body the blood tingled a little stronger, giving the feeling of straining at invisible traces which were to draw this great mass of guns and lorries just a little faster towards its goal.

Never in the history of the Division was morale so high and in the Div Cav this was no exception. When B Squadron went off with the Indian brigade, it took two ‘stowaways’ from B Echelon, Sergeant-Major Chambers and Corporal Dawson,

Sgt C. J. Dawson; Trentham; born Aust., 24 Jan 1914; fitter and turner; wounded 27 Jun 1942.

who had made up their minds that they would be amongst the first to open fire on the enemy.

C Squadron set off to cross the Wire well ahead of the time scheduled for the divisional columns. The gap had been made at El Rabta and, after passing well clear of the frontier, the squadron headed north-west towards Bir Gibni. RHQ and A Squadron set off from their laager about the same time as the Division and, passing through the gap at El Beida, held a course due west until they met C Squadron forming laager about ten miles short of Bir Gibni, in the position designed to be the head of the divisional column. The chilly wind could dampen the spirits of no man and there was little warmth in the sun as it set, giving the signal to hurry the last meal of the day before darkness prohibited fires; and when darkness fell the wind developed a knife-like sharpness. But instead of matching their mood to the falling temperature, everybody's spirits rose in anticipation of the success that the morrow must undoubtedly bring.

The regiment formed its laagers on the same defensive principle as the early American covered-wagon trains, with the ‘A’ vehicles in a rough circle facing outwards and, in the centre, any soft-skinned, or ‘B’, vehicles which, at the discretion of the squadron commanders, were with the fighting squadrons.

Sited thus, each armoured vehicle had its weapons facing outwards so that, in the event of a surprise raid by night, it would not fire into its own laager in the excitement of the moment: moreover, if the laager were discovered and attacked by aircraft, every vehicle had only to drive a few hundred yards the way it was facing and the whole squadron was immediately dispersed, leaving nothing but a baffling cloud of dust under the aircraft's illuminating flares. Fortunately this manoeuvre never had to be used for, though sometimes it was expected, never once did the regiment have any laager attacked by night.

B Squadron's function on the 18th was to man a patrol line along the Trigh el Abd from the flank of the Indian brigade near Sheferzen to within a mile or two of Bir Gibni. Its troops were in position at first light and could see a mass of vehicles on the slightly higher ground round Sidi Omar. Major Garland

Maj J. H. Garland, ED; Whangarei; born Waiuku, 4 Apr 1911; farmer; OC B Sqn Jul 1941-Apr 1942; 2 i/c Div Cav Apr-Nov 1942; CO 1 Bn Northland Regt 1952–55; Hon. Col Feb 1962.

decided to move his headquarters to a place of better observation, and while he was doing this, some unidentified vehicles appeared in the north and brought the headquarters under light shellfire just while it was a little bunched, thereby considerably accelerating the process and giving rise to the words of Jimmy Little

Lt J. R. Little; Hawarden; born Christchurch, 4 Mar 1910; stud master; wounded 18 Feb 1944.

in his parody about the campaign:

… and the Dispersal of the squadron was a picture to see!

About the same time Lieutenant E. W. Kerr's troop on the right flank was engaged by some enemy tanks. Three of these, which Kerr identified as German Mark IIIs, came forward until they were in range of the two-pounders attached to the squadron.

These were a section of 259 Bty, 65 A-Tk Regt, RA; a section of 171 Bty, 57 Lt AA Regt, RA, was also attached.

These opened fire and drove them off after an exchange of shots. Later five or six more came down for another try and this time the little guns managed to disable one, but unfortunately it was towed away by another as they retired. For the remainder of that morning the right flank suffered a little light shelling and some machine-gun fire which did not worry it.

Towards midday the reconnaissance screen of 4 Armoured Brigade, armoured cars of the KDG,

King's Dragoon Guards.

appeared to the left rear. The brigade was to move in on the left of B Squadron, but the screen was rather to the east of its proper line of advance. Seeing armoured vehicles ahead of them, the KDG proceeded to ‘capture’ Second-Lieutenant Fowler's

Maj M. G. Fowler, MBE; Papakura; born Motueka, 11 Nov 1906; Regular soldier.

troop. A very bright little action it was, too; brighter was the sight of the Tommies' faces when they found whom they had captured. No harm was done, however, and they went off on their proper line, flattered by the comments on their troop tactics.

The supporting weapons which the Indian brigade had placed under command of B Squadron were a section each of Bofors anti-aircraft guns and two-pounder anti-tank guns. The AA officer was a Lieutenant Dodds who had played for his country against the 1936 All Blacks, a team which had included the troop leader of No. 3 Troop, Lieutenant J. G. Wynyard. The anti-tank officer, Lieutenant Smith, was a strange figure. He was drawing a pension from a hand crippled during the war in 1918, had lived in New York between the wars, and claimed to be the first American to serve in the Eighth Army; he had an uncanny knack of disappearing from the back of the squadron column while it was groping along in the dark to an appointed position, and on being given up for lost, would be found waiting nonchalantly in the right place with his guns. He had a trick also, when the column halted, of calling plaintively for the squadron second-in-command and then of acknowledging that officer's frigid arrival with a formal salute, a knowing look, and a colossal tot of whisky.

About 3 p.m. on the 18th, when the squadron was retiring in the face of what was thought to be a strong force of tanks, Smith was determined to stand and fight; and on being reminded that the desert was quite flat and that there were some fifteen tanks against his four little two-pounders, he roared: ‘No. We're anti-tank and we'll shoot 'em up here’, and had to be formally ordered to retire before he would allow himself to be led away, breathing fire and slaughter.

Major Garland was beginning to worry on realising that there was only a very light line opposing these tanks, and guessing that they would probably be supported by artillery, he was doing the only thing possible in retiring. This was allowing a force of enemy armour to thrust between two of our formations, but just as the situation was beginning to look very serious and when Garland had wisely destroyed the Eighth Army's Order of Battle which he had on his person, 4 Armoured Brigade arrived to save the day by driving the enemy off with its guns.

The Armoured Brigade then continued its sweep in a northerly direction until it came in contact with, and fought a brisk action in the late afternoon against, one of the reconnaissance units of the German Africa Corps.

At dusk B Squadron pulled back a mile or so to form a tight laager with the supporting guns facing outwards from each corner.

There had been a certain amount of trouble in keeping communication with the squadron Intelligence Corporal, who had been left at Brigade Headquarters to maintain a wireless link. Most of the time wireless reception had been very poor and almost all the communications had to be passed by motor-cycle. This made the interchange of messages desperately slow and cut down the amount of information that could be sent by the Brigade Commander.

At first light on the 19th the remainder of the regiment fanned out from their laager positions and cooked their breakfasts. It was a fresh, keen morning and everybody was impatient to get on with the fight. Fretting against the powers that kept them waiting when there was a perfectly good enemy just over the horizon simply asking to be knocked about, the men spent the morning going over their vehicles and weapons once again. About noon the Division had orders to move up and breast the Trigh el Abd, and the CO was preparing orders to move off when word came through that Bir Bu Deheua had been occupied by the Indians.

This news was brought to Divisional Cavalry headquarters by none other than Major John Russell. John, as we have seen, had taken a most energetic and, at times, spectacular part in the campaigns in Greece and Crete, and it was not surprising that General Freyberg had expressly ordered that he be included in the ‘Left Out of Battle’ personnel, for he knew Russell well enough to anticipate that he, despite normal specific instructions that 2 i/c's remained LOB, would do everything in his power to stay with the regiment even to the extent of ‘stowing away’, exactly as happened in B Squadron.

At the risk of breaking continuity it is interesting to recall a stowaway story against John.

During the first Libyan campaign when the regiment, green with envy, were watching all the Australians travelling west to Bardia, two of John's own men, Troopers Magan

Cpl J. C. Magan; Papakura; born Gorge Road, Southland, 29 Oct 1916; labourer; wounded 21 Oct 1944.

and Campbell, disappeared and had to be posted as deserters. Some days later they arrived back under close arrest and, according to his custom, John had them brought to his tent to give them a severe tongue-lashing before they appeared before him formally. He thought that they had gone back to the fleshpots in Cairo, and as they stepped into the tent they were met by a pair of cold eyes as John said:

‘Well? How far did you get?’

‘The bloody Redcaps picked us up half-way up Hellfire Pass. The Aussies we were with tried to bluff them but we had to show our paybooks.’

‘Ooooh!’

We can leave the story there with the remark that it is certain that within seconds he would have had them both sitting with him on his bed and probably accepting his sympathy in the form of whisky from his tooth-glass. But to get back to Libya….

Those who knew John Russell would also know that ‘Spirit of the Regiment’, and were not surprised when they heard that, as he told Colonel Nicoll, he had ‘talked the Old Man into letting me come and act as a “roving liaison officer”.’

Which was, in fact, the truth.

The regiment set off towards Bir Gibni just before 3 p.m., working on a one-squadron front, with C Squadron forward and A in reserve at RHQ. The forward squadron arrived at the Trigh el Abd well before dark and there watched 4 Armoured Brigade, which was heavily engaged to the north-west with a battle group from 21 Panzer Division.

B Squadron was still under command of the Indians and in the morning had been sent back to its previous day's positions to watch the left flank of the brigade while it advanced on Bir Bu Deheua. By midday the Royal Sussex Battalion, with supporting arms, had advanced along the Trigh el Abd to Bir Gibni and swung right to take Bir Bu Deheua. This task was accomplished by two o'clock, without opposition. This was not surprising since it was only a dummy fortress after all. The infantry had carried on farther north so as to be surrounding the Omar positions. From west of Bir Bu Deheua the squadron took up a line facing north-west but found little to report except occasional shelling from the Omar fortress; and most of this was falling among the infantry. Towards dark Major Garland sent his 2 i/c over to the Brigadier, who thanked him for the squadron's help and told him that B Squadron was to revert to its own regiment at Bir Gibni.

The 20th again was not a very eventful day for the Division since the enemy armoured forces had not been destroyed. In the morning 4 Armoured Brigade came to grips again with the same battle group north of the Trigh el Abd and B Squadron was sent out to its previous day's patrol line as a cover for the Division, which now sat in the gap between Sheferzen and Bir Gibni. About 8 a.m. a small German car, which must have been driven through the lines of the Indian brigade, sped across the squadron front. A message was immediately sent to the troop at the end of the line to ‘Stop small car’. Second- Lieutenant Ward

Lt T. F. L. Ward, m.i.d.; Tangiteroria, Kirikopuni; born Ohaeawai, 30 Nov 1917; farmer; wounded 1 Sep 1942; Deputy Commander (Col), 1 Inf Bde Gp, NZ Terr. Force, 1962-.

never dreamt that it was an enemy one and sent his motor-cyclist after it. Imagine his surprise when the car stopped, the DR parked his machine, climbed in, and was driven off to the west—and to Stalag.

C Squadron was sent out on a similar role to B, but closer to Bir Gibni. Here everybody had a front-seat view of the tank battles to the north. In the morning they watched the battle against 21 Panzer Division and in the evening another heavy engagement in the same area against 15 Panzer. The lighter British tanks were outgunned and had to use a combination of naval tactics and cavalry charges to get within range of the German tanks, thus turning to their advantage their superior speed and the thorough training of their crews. The battles were therefore very spectacular, with the Germans working themselves into hull-down positions and engaging the British squadrons as they manoeuvred in for the charge. These columns, usually in line ahead, would gradually become hidden by a grey-brown cloud of dust and smoke before they swung into line and charged, often with the squadron commander standing out on the hull of his tank or even charging in with them in a little 15-cwt truck, signalling them forward with a big blue flag.

There is no doubt of the bravery of these British tank crews nor of the coolness and dash of their commanders, who seemed to know no fear. The C Squadron wavelength was close to that of one of these squadrons, and right in the heat of the battle the whole C Squadron net heard the voice of one of the British majors—that inevitable detached, almost casual, voice: ‘Hello Baty 4. Hello Baty 4. Baty calling. For God's sake turn right, man: turn right. What the devil d'you think we practise these things for on manoeuvres?’

There was some concern in the New Zealand Division that the Armoured Brigade might not be able to cope with the enemy armour, and the question arose whether it might have to withdraw through the Division. General Freyberg was impatient to get into the battle and welcomed the suggestion. During the day he sent a liaison patrol from Div Cav over to Brigadier Gatehouse to offer support. This was not accepted but the troop came back with some information about the general situation.

In the light of later experience of desert fighting it perhaps was rather a pity that this support was not accepted; for, had the armour fallen back through the Division and been pursued by the German armour, this could have been chopped about badly by the New Zealand guns. After all, that would only have been a case of turning the Germans' own tactics against themselves. Until General Montgomery took charge of the Army some nine months later, we were too inclined towards the ‘seek out and destroy’ principle in which we used to suffer rather much destruction ourselves while we were doing the ‘seeking out’. It took the Battle of Alam Halfa to prove this.

There was no change until the morning of the 21st when the Support Group of 7 Armoured Division, together with a regiment of 7 Armoured Brigade, fought its way on to an escarpment facing north, by the mosque of Sidi Rezegh and just over 20 miles from Tobruk.

The 15th and 21st Panzer Divisions were racing westwards to deal with this threat to their rear, pursued by 22 and 4 Armoured Brigades, and it seemed to the latter that the enemy was properly on the run. The Italian 132 Ariete Armoured Division was still at Bir el Gubi glaring at 1 South African Brigade. The enemy armour was thus fully committed and already was thought to have suffered heavy losses; so it was considered time for 13 Corps to take a more active part in the battle.

Looking back on it now we can see again how completely wrong it was to use tanks, particularly our lighter ones, to destroy tanks when we had any quantity of guns, the proper weapons, which should have been used in conjunction with the tanks. The British tanks had to go out and find the enemy, and that meant fighting on ground more or less of his own choosing, and they had not only suffered heavy losses but had also overestimated the enemy's losses. If only the Army Commander could have sent his armoured corps, in a solid mass, direct to Sidi Rezegh and sat there in a phalanx of guns— which he had—then the enemy would have had to come and smash himself the same way.

Early on 21 November General Freyberg received word to begin his drive northwards, past Fort Capuzzo and Sidi Azeiz, to the edge of the escarpment overlooking Bardia. Thus 13 Corps would have the fortress area on the frontier isolated and would be able to cut it up bit by bit.

The Divisional Cavalry led off soon after midday covering a front of eight or ten miles, with A Squadron on the right, B on the left and C in reserve; and, with each squadron, was a half troop of 34 Anti-Tank Battery, whilst RHQ retained the troop of 4 Field Regiment which was under command. The patrol line had not gone far when Colonel Nicoll sent A Squadron off to raid Sidi Azeiz. To keep his patrol line complete he edged B Squadron over to the right and brought C Squadron up on the left. A Squadron bowled up to Sidi Azeiz, having put up some seven or eight enemy transport which they left to be handled by B. Sidi Azeiz appeared to be occupied so two troops were sent to gain touch. These troops first shot up and captured two motor-cycle combinations, then, stopping just short of the buildings, they roared for the two-pounders, which fired a few shots through the huts. These incidentally scared the wits out of an elderly Italian officer in charge, who was not expecting callers and was having a bath. The Div Cav troops made a quick rush to find a stark-naked figure, with dust and rubble sticking to his wet body, waving a towel in surrender. (As one trooper remarked: ‘His underpants would have been as effective under those circumstances.’) Besides the officer there were forty-eight other ranks of the Italian 52 Anti-Aircraft Battery and six other ranks, German and Italian, of lorried infantry and artillery personnel. Amongst the material captured was a list of the code-names for 15 Panzer Division. The transport which A Squadron had allowed to go, scuttled westwards along the Trigh Capuzzo, right across the front of B and C Squadrons, but everybody was taking the job of screening the Division far too seriously and ignored them, much to the indignation of those who wished to rush up and capture them but who, in every case, seemed to have some senior to remind him of his primary role.

The last ten miles of the advance to the escarpment, though comparatively uneventful, left several vivid impressions. One remembers the fragrant carpet of blue-green thyme whose scent was crushed out under the tracks of the vehicles, the innumerable mounds of yellow earth, so misleading to navigators, where wells had been dug, the lurching of the carriers as they swayed over the windswept hummocks of sand, the sting of the cold wind in one's eyes; but most of all one remembers still that curious, eerie sense of offensive impatience that seemed to permeate the whole Army.

C Squadron arrived at the edge of the escarpment first and, as each troop stopped, it formed part of a line that reached from Bir ez Zemla to about three miles west. Along this line there were odd outposts in the form of rock sangars containing machine guns or mortars. The troops manning these were completely unaware of the presence of any British and were walking about unconcerned at their approach until they had stopped quite close and opened fire.

This skirmishing was indecisive as darkness fell soon after it had begun, so the squadrons pulled back a little and laagered independently. B and C Squadrons chose positions a mile or so back from Bir Zemla, RHQ a few miles south again, and A Squadron in reserve a little farther south near the Trigh Capuzzo, about five miles west of the scene of its afternoon's engagement at Sidi Azeiz.

By dawn on the 22nd 4 New Zealand Brigade had moved up into position a little to the east of the Divisional Cavalry and halted with the head of the column near Bir Zemla. Almost immediately a company of 20 Battalion was sent down the steep rocky face towards the Bardia-Tobruk road which runs along the flat, and started up a brisk engagement with transport there.

Meanwhile two troops of C Squadron had attacked and cleaned out some Italian machine-gun posts near Point 127, capturing an engineer officer and suffering one man wounded.

Throughout the day all three squadrons enjoyed intermittent fighting. C Squadron was now firmly placed on the edge of the escarpment overlooking the flat to the west of where 20 Battalion was engaged and was firing on any targets which could be found within small-arms range. Directly below Point 127 was a group of vehicles, some trucks and staff cars, and a few tents. During the day this was identified as probably a headquarters of the Africa Corps, and even before they knew this, Div Cav were asking for gunfire to be brought down on the spot; but the guns were fully occupied in firing on some tanks which were reported to be counter-attacking 20 Battalion. Later, however, in response to a call from A Squadron, Captain J. W. Moodie brought forward a troop of 4 Field Regiment and opened fire on some enemy anti-tank guns and machine guns which were engaging several pin-point targets on the ridge.

During the day A Squadron captured three grounded aircraft and some prisoners and also recaptured a Bofors gun and its supply of ammunition, which was used with considerable effect by a scratch crew of the 34th Anti-Tank men then under command. B Squadron had also been busy and had captured five ambulance cars with their personnel. The disposal of prisoners was a problem in the regiment as it was a unit designed to be constantly on the move and so had not the facilities for passing back prisoners. On this occasion, however, the ambulances provided transport for the prisoners who, after they were interrogated by the Divisional Intelligence Officer, were sent back with the B Echelon convoy.

Some of the mass of material that A Squadron sent in proved to be most interesting, especially the Luftwaffe material: there were marked maps, ground-to-air signalling codes, notes on Army-Air Force co-operation, the performance figures of various aircraft, and some very good photographs of Tobruk.

Headquarters Squadron had a certain amount of trouble on the 22nd when the ‘C’ Section Signals' workshop truck, together with transport from other B Echelons, got badly bogged in patches of mud in the desert and was left behind when the squadron moved on from Bir Gibni. When they were all extricated the trucks were assembled into a convoy; but nobody knew the destination. However, the ‘C’ Section truck had an experimental D/F

Direction Finding.

loop aerial which had been made during the stay at Baggush and, using this to receive signals from Captain McQueen's wireless set in HQ Squadron, it managed to lead the convoy safely in.

That evening the regiment's patrol line was taken over by units of 5 Brigade, and the Divisional Cavalry, less C Squadron, moved off to Sidi Azeiz. C Squadron was to come under command of 4 Brigade for its advance on Gambut.

It will be necessary, in order to get a clear picture of the whole campaign, first to follow C Squadron over the next ten days, since that was the squadron which became involved in the critical fighting round Sidi Rezegh, and then to go back and trace the movements of the rest of the regiment afterwards.

To do this it is necessary to consider the topography of the Cyrenaican desert and the way in which the main plateau falls away towards the coast. From well into Egypt, this plateau ends abruptly in an escarpment which runs parallel to the coast. At the western end of the Gulf of Sollum both the coastline and the escarpment swing northwards and the two lines meet near Sollum, continuing as one to Bardia. Here the escarpment swings westwards again, but not quite so high because from Sollum to Tobruk there is a rugged and broken coastline which eases off to a flat terrace along which runs the main road. The escarpment itself does not continue in an unbroken line for it gradually loses height towards the west and breaks into a series of parallel ones which, for convenience, we shall supply with names. The first one, running a little north of west, fades out about ten miles beyond Gambut: the Bardia or Gambut escarpment. The main plateau itself maintains a fairly constant height, and so, about half-way between Bardia and Gambut, the ridge divides, the southern branch continuing due west until it also flattens out south-west of Gambut near Bir el Chleta: the Bir Chleta escarpment. A little farther west it comes into being again at Ed Dbana and its crest is marked by several memorable features—Zaafran, Belhamed, Ed Duda—the Belhamed escarpment. This overlooks the wide terrace falling away right to Tobruk. South of Bir Chleta another escarpment rises and runs westwards past Point 175 to Sidi Rezegh, beyond which it flattens out again: the Sidi Rezegh escarpment. This is over- lookedoverlooked by yet another, in the south, which can be called the Southern escarpment.

All these escarpments have rocky crests and can be negotiated only with difficulty by wheeled or tracked vehicles except in a few places, usually where gullies run up into more gentle re-entrants. The terraces are more or less flat and are narrow enough to be dominated by mortar or shell-fire from above. The main road, running along below the Bardia-Gambut escarpment straight to Tobruk, was bypassed after August 1941, opposite Belhamed, by a road (‘Axis Road’) which turns south to swing round the Tobruk perimeter through Ed Duda and El Adem. There is also a desert track of note, the Trigh Capuzzo, which runs from the frontier near the fort of that name to Bir el Chleta, whence it runs westwards along the foot of the Sidi Rezegh escarpment and on past El Adem.

The 4th and 22nd Armoured Brigades, in full cry after the German armoured formations, soon found them not to be in full retreat but to be racing westwards to prevent help arriving at Sidi Rezegh for 7 Armoured Brigade, already there, and the Support Group of 7 Armoured Division, which was with it. These formations were too lightly supplied with infantry and guns to carry out a prolonged defence, and 5 South African Infantry Brigade could not get there as some German armour was in its way. When the New Zealand Division advanced northwards to isolate the frontier fortress line, 6 New Zealand Brigade, organised as a self-contained formation for the purpose, was directed westwards along the Trigh Capuzzo ready to occupy the area by Gambut. But, by nightfall on the 22nd, the tank battles near Sidi Rezegh ended in the defeat of the armoured brigades of 30 Corps, and in the afternoon 6 Brigade was sent hot-foot towards Sidi Rezegh to help the Support Group which was reported to be surrounded there. The other two New Zealand brigades were hastily redisposed in the Bardia – Sollum – Capuzzo area on the night of the 22nd to allow Divisional Headquarters and 4 Brigade to move westwards.

At 7.30 a.m. on the 23rd this brigade group, with two squadrons of Matildas of a British ‘Infantry tank’ battalion, 44 RTR, set off towards Gambut led by C Squadron of the Divisional Cavalry.

For most of the morning the columns trundled westwards unmolested in the pleasant sunshine—all unmolested except the three Div Cav tanks that were detailed to follow along the top of the ridge on the northern edge of the terrace and watch the main road on the flat below. These tanks were making good time and, while reporting one of their bounds clear, had stopped fully five minutes on the very crest of the escarpment to keep a close watch on a self-propelled gun, which came down the main road, swung off on to the desert, stopped, and suddenly opened fire with alarming accuracy. One tank had to travel quite a distance back across the flat before it was out of sight. While doing this it had to dodge at least three shells literally while they were in flight. To do this the wireless operator kept his eye on the enemy gun and each time it flashed he called to the crew commander, who immediately ordered a sharp turn one way or the other, with the result that, when they had gone a chain or so, a shell would land practically on the spot where they had turned. As a matter of fact, throughout its whole life as an armoured unit, the Divisional Cavalry suffered surprisingly light casualties, and it is fair to claim that this was largely due to the care with which the men were originally trained and their skilful handling of their vehicles in tricky situations like this.

Towards midday the carriers in the centre of the patrol line could recognise Gambut by the several buildings, some tents, and what appeared to be a large naval-type gun. Two or three armoured cars came out to have a look, and one of the carriers drove up to a solitary Bedouin in the middle of the desert to see if he could identify these vehicles, friend or enemy, before it gave chase. The Arab greeted their approach with a carefully correct Nazi salute, and then, realising his mistake, broke into a huge smile with the words: ‘El-hamdu-lellah, il Ingleezi!’,

‘Thank God! The British!’

climbed aboard, unslung his flintlock rifle, and demanded that the battle should begin. He took quite some dissuading from his warlike intentions, the crew of the carrier being more apprehensive of the effect of his firing off, just over their heads, the dangerously heavy charge that he rammed down the muzzle of his rifle than solicitous for his safety.

While this was going on, the brigade was brought to a halt by heavy gunfire from the higher ground near Bir el Chleta, but the guns of 46 Battery came into action smartly, driving the enemy away and allowing the column to advance again. The Div Cav line was halted while the brigade drew forward until the line of I tanks was in the lead.

At first there was some shellfire which fell amongst the transport, but on getting closer to Gambut, it could be seen that there would be little infantry resistance as figures around the buildings were on the run. As the advance continued, Major Bonifant was ordered to send his faster armoured vehicles up through the line of tanks and rush the position, firing every automatic weapon they possessed to increase the confusion. The little tanks and carriers had just passed through the line of Matildas when they met the near edge of the aerodrome. They bounded across the flat surface of this at full speed, with every weapon blazing at anything at all. At the far side they careered off through the dispersal area, past rows of wrecked aircraft, bomb dumps and petrol dumps, and out on to the desert beyond. Here each troop swung right to form a line along the edge of the escarpment and pepper the enemy, who had fled before the onslaught and were now ducking and diving down through the rocks to the flat below.

The troops kept this up until their own infantry, who had now debussed and made off down the escarpment, had come to grips with the enemy; then they rallied and made off back to the aerodrome, where they were able to clean their guns and prepare a meal before darkness set in. So flushed were the men with the afternoon's success that they barely noticed the shell

the advance to tobruk, 23–27 novemberblack and white map of cavalry movement and mortar fire that was again coming from near Bir el Chleta.

The next morning, the 24th, the firing began again and patrols were sent out south and west to see if they could identify the gun and mortar positions. One troop advanced boldly towards the foot of the escarpment; too boldly, for as one of the carriers stopped for the commander to level his glasses, a shell landed right between the tracks. It did no serious damage to the carrier but wounded two men running over from one of the other carriers towards it.

It was this enemy group that was attacked and driven off by 20 Battalion as it came along the Trigh Capuzzo to join 4 Brigade opposite the end of the Bir Chleta escarpment.

Among the aircraft captured on the aerodrome was a Hurricane which the Germans had been using. In this, one of the squadron's tank gunners discovered the guns loaded with an assortment of .303 ammunition—ball, tracer, explosive, armour-piercing—all of which he gleefully appropriated.

While the attack on Gambut was going on, 6 Brigade was working its way along the Sidi Rezegh escarpment and had become involved in the critical action of the whole campaign, in which the enemy, throwing caution to the winds, made a headlong attack with all three armoured divisions upon 5 South African Brigade at the Sidi Rezegh landing ground. This attack also came against 26 Battalion, with field and anti-tank guns, to the east of the South Africans. The South Africans were overrun but the losses in German tanks gravely weakened the Africa Corps.

By that evening 25 Battalion, after hard fighting, had occupied part of Point 175 on the escarpment about five miles east of Sidi Rezegh and, by 3 p.m. on the 24th, 20 Battalion had chased away the last of the enemy along the Trigh Capuzzo; Divisional Headquarters had linked up with 4 Brigade and the next step was to bring that brigade up level with 6 Brigade, on the terrace above, ready for a drive farther westwards.

So C Squadron was sent off again to form a screen between Ed Dbana and the Trigh Capuzzo and to drive west, ahead of 4 Brigade Group. Spirits were running high, and one troop in particular was making the pace fast when some Italian diesel trucks on the Trigh started up and lumbered off north-west- wards towards a wadi beyond Zaafran. Unfortunately they could not be overtaken before the head of the brigade arrived opposite Point 175, so, with the light beginning to fail, the patrol line was recalled.

In the evening it was decided that 6 Brigade would force its way westwards along the escarpment in the early hours of the next morning, the 25th, to clear out the enemy infantry in the wadis west of Point 175. The 4th Brigade had not yet met much opposition, though the C Squadron reports showed that it should be meeting something fairly soon. Accordingly, 6 Brigade advanced in a silent attack with the bayonet—which was put to its proper use—and by daylight 26 Battalion, on the left, had reached the edge of the Sidi Rezegh landing ground, but the 24th was held up farther back for some hours. The 4th Brigade rested overnight and continued its advance at first light. Since it was expected to meet resistance fairly soon, the I tanks formed a line immediately behind the Divisional Cavalry screen.

There was a slight mist which the sun had barely dispersed and the cold air was still bringing water to rheumy eyes when the forward screen ran into the expected opposition. This comprised infantry with anti-tank guns just east of Zaafran. The squadron screen halted while the infantry debussed behind and the tanks passed through to take the lead. The advance continued, with the C Squadron line close up to the heavy tanks to protect them from enemy infantry interference; the 4 Brigade infantry followed on foot, for some three and a half miles, until well within sight of Belhamed. Here the infantry dug in while the tanks carried on up the rising ground, almost to the feature itself, but suffered considerable damage from the 50- and 88-millimetre guns opposing them. Part of the Div Cav line followed, gathering the enemy prisoners as they gave themselves up, and when the tanks turned and came back to their rallying point, Div Cav swung also to herd their prisoners, now numbering some two hundred, back to where the 4 Brigade infantry were consolidating their positions.

That part of the squadron's line which did not follow on behind the tanks was the troop on the extreme right, which turned down a wadi which breaks the line of the escarpment about half-way between Zaafran and Belhamed—very probably the same re-entrant down which the Italian trucks had fled the previous evening. This troop was tempted, indeed almost fatally, by a pet German ruse. As the advance drew level with the top of the wadi the three tanks comprising the troop saw two light enemy trucks start up and bolt headlong down to the flat below. The tanks set off after them, but the leading one suddenly pulled up in suspicion when the crew saw, facing them, a single wire shining in the morning dew. This marked the near edge of a minefield and the troop realised just in time that they were being decoyed on to this and probably within range of anti-tank guns. It is interesting now to read Major-General Sir Howard Kippenberger's account of the advance of 20 Battalion, which he commanded at the time, upon Belhamed that night. This same wadi put him off his course, with the result that he led his battalion headquarters, complete with two truckloads of mines, right across the minefield, blissfully ignorant of its existence.

The squadron took no active part in repelling the counter-attacks which followed the advance towards Belhamed, but later in the morning, when tanks were seen approaching along the Trigh Capuzzo, it was sent to identify them before the guns of 4 Field Regiment were switched round to disperse them.

Major Bonifant was at this stage instructed to establish his headquarters near Divisional Headquarters so that the General could order patrols at a moment's notice. Bonifant left his patrol line facing east for the rest of the day, with its right flank resting on the Trigh near Sidi Muftah. There was little to report from the troops, but Squadron Headquarters had its afternoon enlivened by a squadron of Stukas which bombed Divisional Headquarters.

By now the battle had resolved itself into a struggle for the triangle of land, Sidi Rezegh – Belhamed – Ed Duda, since whoever held that had control of the vital bottleneck of communications and, when held by the Eighth Army, it provided a point of contact with the Tobruk garrison. If we held the important triangle we held a corridor into Tobruk; if the enemy held it he could command a dangerous soft spot in the enlarged Tobruk perimeter.

After 23 November the armour of 30 Corps was virtually out of the battle for a few days; but so were 15 and 21 Panzer Divisions and the Italian Ariete Division, since General Rommel had made the mistake of thinking the battle was won and had hurried off with all his remaining armour to trap the British forces besieging his posts on the Egyptian frontier from both sides. This proved harder than it looked and the move failed to justify itself.

While the two New Zealand brigades were battling to link up with the Tobruk forces there was no specific job for C Squadron in that neighbourhood, and it was kept at Divisional Headquarters to watch the rear and flanks of the Division. It took no part in the attacks which secured Belhamed and the blockhouse at Sidi Rezegh, nor in the obstinate defence which held these positions against counter-attack; nor in the final assault on the Sidi Rezegh escarpment near the mosque and the link-up with the Tobruk forces at Ed Duda on the night of 26–27 November.

The question of maintenance was becoming critical within the squadron as every vehicle had to be kept in a state of instant readiness, but very little could be done. Indeed, the drivers who were able to do any running repairs at all were those who, while they were stationary on the patrol line, contrived to steal a chance to go over their tracks, to replace any broken pins, and to pump a little grease into the bogey bearings. Wireless communication was becoming rather difficult, too, as there was no chance of getting fresh batteries. The Mark VI tank is equipped with a generator for charging its own wireless batteries, but in most cases this was not working. However, the operators did manage to struggle through by interchanging their batteries or, at night-time, by obtaining the use of little charging motors which were fitted on some of the neighbouring units' trucks.

The protective screen was maintained on the 26th and again on the 27th when Squadron Headquarters was moved a little east to Hagfet esc Sciomar, where there was a track up the Sidi Rezegh escarpment and patrols could be immediately sent across the upper or lower terraces as required. Two troops were sent up this track and then west to Ed Duda to watch the front of 24 and 26 Battalions, since these were now badly depleted and were tiring, but which nevertheless were holding an enormous front with very few men. Fortunately the enemy there was inactive so the day was quiet.

During the afternoon four Stuart tanks, which had been captured from 4 Armoured Brigade earlier in the fighting and then later recovered in working order but out of petrol, were offered to C Squadron. They were received with enthusiasm, the men being delighted at the prospect of using tanks mounting 37-millimetre guns and with a fair turn of speed. These tanks were taken over by Sergeant-Major Mack

Lt-Col C. W. Mack, DCM; Wellington; born Dunedin, 9 Nov 1913; schoolmaster; DAEWS, Army HQ, Sep 1960-.

and there was considerable competition amongst the various spare personnel, who were living now with the squadron fitters, for a job in the new troop. Nobody knew much about Stuarts with their radial aircraft engines, their Browning machine guns, their 37-mm. cannon and their strange wireless sets, but after an afternoon's experimenting, the crews were quite capable of taking them into action, though no occasion arose for a day or so.

As there was an increasing possibility that the German armoured columns would be on the way back from the frontier, on 28 November the squadron's patrol line was extended so as to cover all approaches from the east. One troop was placed on top of the Sidi Rezegh escarpment and the line reached as far north as the edge of the Gambut escarpment, overlooking the main road, a lateral distance of seven or eight miles. Individual positions had to be carefully chosen in order to cover this increased front, since a portion of the squadron had to be held back for other jobs. During the morning 22 Armoured Brigade was involved in a tank battle to the south of Point 175 and two troops—or six vehicles—were sent to do liaison work between this brigade and the New Zealand Division. In the afternoon the Commander of 4 Brigade wished to clear the area between Belhamed and Sidi Rezegh of some pockets of resistance. He used 44 Royal Tanks with strong artillery support and a company of 18 Battalion. There were not sufficient Matildas left so two troops of carriers from the Divisional Cavalry completed the line of armoured vehicles, one to each flank. The attack, covered by artillery concentrations from both 4 and 6 Field Regiments and by Vickers gun-fire from near Belhamed, was most successful. It swept the area from east to west almost to Ed Duda and then swung north to a rallying point west of Belhamed. Mortar and machine-gun posts and anti-tank guns were destroyed and about 600 prisoners taken. One of the troops captured three guns described as ‘naval’. The other troop was cut about, the troop leader, Second-Lieutenant Ivan Rutherford,

2 Lt I. Rutherford; born Christchurch, 11 Oct 1914; labourer; killed in action 28 Nov 1941.

and his driver, Trooper Budd,

Tpr L. W. Budd; born England, 14 Nov 1913; car painter; killed in action 28 Nov 1941.

being killed and their gunner seriously wounded.

The gunner, L-Cpl D. S. Clark, was so seriously wounded that the casualty lists had him entered as Died of Wounds. Some months later, in Syria, he returned to the regiment in time to admire his own photograph amongst the Roll of Honour in a newly-arrived Auckland Weekly News.

The squadron felt very bitter about the way in which these men were lost because the carriers had to maintain the same pace as the slower tanks and were unable to use their acceleration and mobility to avoid trouble. The advance was well under way, and many prisoners were coming in with their hands up, when one group climbed out of a sangar containing an anti-tank gun. Rutherford had swung over towards the prisoners to signal them to the rear when, at point-blank range, two Germans who had stayed behind the gun fired a single shot and then walked out themselves with their hands up, expecting quarter. They got none.

This engagement gave the Division full control of what had been a troublesome little piece of ground and which remained of great tactical significance; but by now there were not enough infantry left to hold it securely. The 5th New Zealand Brigade was not available and 1 South African Infantry Brigade was having difficulty in arriving to reinforce the position. Furthermore, General Rommel's armoured columns were back from the frontier and an attack was clearly expected. This was borne out by some marked maps gained the next morning when 21 Battalion captured General von Ravenstein.

The Div Cav patrol line had been reporting all the afternoon a large column looming up along the Trigh Capuzzo. Squadron Headquarters was consistently, and somewhat hopefully, declaring that it was probably 1 South African Brigade, and though Lieutenant Wilder

Lt-Col N. P. Wilder, DSO; Waipukurau; born NZ 29 Mar 1914; farmer; CO Div Cav Apr 1944-Jan 1945; wounded 14 Sep 1942.

thought he could identify half-tracked troop-carriers, he was told to go forward and make contact. The three tanks advanced cautiously until they were fired upon. On reporting this cordial greeting they were still assured that the column must be friendly and were told to go forward and investigate further. By now the column appeared to be splitting, one half continuing along the Trigh directly towards Divisional Headquarters; and Corporal Tippett,

Cpl K. E. Tippett, MM; Te Awamutu; born Lyttelton, 27 Sep 1914; car painter.

the troop's operator, sagely and appositely observed: ‘They'll be able to do their own identifying soon!’ The other half swung along the top of the Sidi Rezegh escarpment. The troop leader reported this, now adding that it was definitely enemy. He was then asked whether it was German or Italian and was told: ‘Go closer and make sure.’ That was just too much. Under heavy fire, exasperated by Headquarters' persistent passion for detail, Tippett made the best use of what he thought were his few remaining moments by throwing his switch to ‘Send’ and spitting out: ‘What? D'you want me to bloody well shake hands with them? OFF.’

The same headquarters was to be convinced only too well. Soon after, there was a frantic call from just behind the squadron laager for some armoured vehicles to repel an infantry attack against 8 Field Regiment, RA—under command of the New Zealand Division. Both the Div Cav tank troops and, at last, Mack's troop of Stuarts, together with one of the carrier troops, were sent scuttling back. They arrived just in the nick of time to save the 25-pounders from capture, as enemy infantry were in the act of debussing to make a rush at the harassed gunners. For the last few minutes of dusk, all Hell was let loose, with tracer criss-crossing in every direction. Lieutenant Wilder's troop which had been reporting the advance, and was therefore close at hand, hurried back and arrived just in time to catch a wave of German infantry scrambling up towards them, desperately trying to get away from the machine-gun fire of Lieutenant Cole's tanks. Wilder's gunners, in just the right mood after what they had had to take for the previous hour or two, enjoyed themselves immensely dealing with this target and then attended to several machine-gun posts that had been set up to bring down plunging fire upon the 25-pounders. The darkness which ended the fighting seemed to bring a sudden silence, made all the more vivid by the glare of three enemy vehicles blazing merrily on top of the ridge.

The three troops on the lower terrace were called back to laager while they were still having a fruitless argument with two anti-tank guns, but No. 2 Troop, which was still on top of the ridge, was left there with the instructions to try to locate the Main Dressing Station which, it was feared—and correctly feared—had been overrun. The troop failed to find the hospital and, on the way home, stopped to investigate some knocked-out German vehicles. These they explored to the extent of finding at least one camera, when the men were alarmed by the sound of tanks approaching from the east. Much to their relief these turned out to be British cruisers making a sweep of the area. The tanks' commander suggested, also much to their relief, that since the hospital must have been overrun, and because the area was dangerous for light tanks, the troop should accompany him until it was deemed safe for it to return home.

The evening engagement had cost one casualty, Corporal Crossan,

Cpl H. McA. Crossan; born NZ 26 Oct 1914; civil servant; killed in action 28 Nov 1941.

who was killed by machine-gun fire. The whole squadron stood-to all night since the whereabouts of the enemy column were not known. The early morning of 29 November showed that part of it, one vehicle at least, was not far away at all, for it had spent a restful night right within the squadron laager, its occupants no doubt surprised and delighted not to be detailed for picket. For many months the C Squadron men, in their lighter moments, used to declare that, had they realised that there was an extra vehicle in the laager, they would have insisted that its occupants, Hun or Anglo-Saxon, should share the picket. The Germans for their part must have been very startled to wake up and find English spoken on all sides. They were not too startled, however, to make a smart get-away, and without omitting to show their gratitude for a peaceful night by loosing off a Parthian burst of machine-gun fire.

No. 1 Troop set off in hot pursuit but did not get far when it, too, found that it was certainly not amongst friends. The three tanks ran right into an anti-tank troop, which they immediately engaged with their Vickers guns whilst trying to run them down. The enemy guns had the advantage of slightly lower ground, though the German infantry covering them had been properly scattered. But with the dawn light behind them, they could only be located by their gun-flashes. Two of the tanks were quickly knocked out, the drivers in each case, Corporal Read

Cpl E. C. Read; born NZ 30 Jan 1914; farmhand; killed in action 29 Nov 1941.

and Trooper Falloon,

Tpr J. E. Falloon; born Masterton, 6 Feb 1918; farmer; killed in action 29 Nov 1941.

being killed; and of the crews, all the rest except one man were wounded. Cole's own tank accounted for one gun at least before it too was hit, Cole and his gunner being both wounded. The driver, Lance-Corporal Gollan,

L-Sgt S. C. Gollan; Auckland; born NZ 12 Oct 1914; despatch clerk; twice wounded.

used great skill and initiative in breaking off the action, for although he lacked any control from his crew commander or any covering fire from his guns, and though his tank sustained two further hits, he managed, by zig-zagging violently, to reach some cover at Squadron Headquarters.

Tpr J. A. Stanley, one of the wounded, lost his life when the merchant ship Chakdina, which was taking wounded back to Alexandria, was torpedoed shortly after leaving Tobruk. One other of the troop, Cpl R. J. M. Loughnan (the author), who was being evacuated on the same ship as a stretcher case, was saved by the unselfishness and gallantry of a man from C Squadron, Tpr M. W. Stewart, who came within seconds of losing his life in so doing.

The enemy column apparently turned north during the night down the track which ran from Bir el Chleta to Gambut, since, on the morning of the 29th, Divisional Headquarters came under mortar and shell-fire from the east, below the escarpment, and lost several of its lorries. An attack began to develop from this new quarter, but Sergeant-Major Mack took his four Stuart tanks to the edge of the ridge and managed to hold it. He accounted for several tanks all heavier than his own by advancing until just his guns and sights were showing over the edge and, quickly picking a target, delivering one accurate shot from each gun; then, reversing out of sight to reload, he would creep up somewhere else. For this he was awarded the DCM.

Nos. 2 and 5 Troops (Lieutenants Wilder and Laing

Lt H. M. Laing; born Invercargill, 14 Nov 1912; farmer; died of wounds while p.w. 4 Jul 1942.

) had been sent up the escarpment to watch for movement south of Bir Chleta. They had a bad time. As they were breasting the hill they looked back and saw Cole's troop being cut to pieces and were powerless to do anything about it. Then a few minutes later they approached the New Zealand MDS which had been captured the night before. In Wilder's words:

‘I looked back and called him [Laing] up alongside me in his carrier. At the same time the German picquet round the Field Amb. [i.e., the MDS] were picking themselves up from their night's sleep. They were far too strong for us, with at least a Regt. of tanks behind; and all our wounded lying about not far away….I can see him now, sitting in his carrier waiting for the signal to come up. I can also see the look on his face when he saw what was in front of us.’

The two subalterns were by now only too well aware, after seeing the end of the other tank troop, of the hopelessness of trying to regain contact with the MDS with three Bren carriers and three Mark VI tanks, and swung away to the south. In doing this they narrowly missed being cut off by the tanks of 15 Panzer Division now advancing on Point 175. They were being bounced about the desert like so many pieces of flotsam on an ocean comber.

Once the remnants of 21 Battalion were overrun on Point 175 the rear of the New Zealand Division, under pressure from the east, was brought under shellfire from the ridge above it to the south. The enemy was making a determined effort to close the corridor at Ed Duda, so the Division was virtually surrounded, although there were two armoured brigades, the 4th and the 22nd, and the guns of the Support Group harassing the enemy from an outer ring to the south and west.

At first light on 30 November patrols were sent up the escarpment again. They reported that the Main Dressing Station had for certain been captured, that the enemy was holding Point 175 in strength and that a closely packed column was approaching from the east.

There was an imaginative phrase used in describing this column and it stuck with the regiment for all time. Thereafter any collection of men, materials, or machinery was always referred to as a ‘heap-o’-guts'.

Were these the long-expected South Africans? But no: the patrols were not sure and, on investigating further, were fired upon. Every gun in the Division was trained on this, an artilleryman's dream, and the Divisional Artillery commander gave the order to fire. Like so many wailing banshees the shells came howling over the patrols' heads and in a few minutes a cloud of red-brown dust and grey smoke had enveloped the whole close-packed column. Here and there were angry stabs of light where shells exploded, or a dull red glow under a mushroom of heavy black smoke where a truck caught fire.

So the Division, even hard-pressed, short of men and surrounded, was able to show that it still possessed a sharp sting, and Mussolini's much vaunted Ariete Armoured Division fled from the punishment, leaving much transport blazing and two tanks knocked out completely.

But that did not end the New Zealand Division's troubles as it was under constant and accurately observed shellfire from the escarpment above, and gradually the toll of casualties mounted. One mortar bomb landed almost under the tail of the C Squadron fitters' truck and wounded three, one of whom, Corporal Wood,

Cpl C. Wood; born England, 28 Dec 1908; labourer; died of wounds 30 Nov 1941.

died in hospital. That day Squadron Headquarters was indeed an uncomfortable place to inhabit for there was nowhere to go and nothing to do when the shells and bombs began to fall; one just had to sit and take it. Out on patrol the men could at least get out of sight, if not out of range. Certainly, Squadron Headquarters was a cheerless place that day.

As the afternoon drew on the situation became worse and worse. First 24 Battalion, and later most of the 26th, were overrun: 15 Panzer Division with fifty tanks had Sidi Rezegh. As soon as dusk fell preparations were made to fall back into Tobruk if the need arose, for in the morning the whole of the Division would be under direct observation from the ridge above. If only the South Africans could take Point 175; but they could not manage this; and moreover, due to bad atomspheric conditions, wireless contact with them was temporarily lost.

The last contact with 1 South African Brigade had indicated that it was trying to recapture Point 175 so, with 25 Battalion and 8 Field Company, NZE, still in position west of this point, General Freyberg considered it both essential and possible, if Point 175 were retaken, that the South Africans should push on through 25 Battalion and retake Sidi Rezegh also by dawn. He told Major Bonifant to send a troop to take a message to Brigadier Pienaar ordering the recapture of Sidi Rezegh.

Bonifant considered this far too much to ask of any junior officer and elected to go himself. It entailed finding his way by dead reckoning, and certainly running the gauntlet right through enemy positions. Courage he could expect of any of his officers, but he could not ask them to be lucky too. Lieutenant Wilder volunteered to go with him.

They selected two Bren carriers as being smaller targets and lower to the ground than tanks, and perhaps a little more reliable, and set out for the Blockhouse. This is on the escarpment about half-way between the Sidi Rezegh mosque and Point 175, and was still held by 25 Battalion. Here they learnt that the enemy was still on Point 175, and in the darkness they could see the lines of fire of both the enemy's and what they presumed was the South Africans' gunfire. Bonifant decided, therefore, to head south until he was in a position to run at right angles straight between this duel. The patrol got safely through but, once clear of the lines of fire, it eventually happened upon some transport which, by listening to voices, they could recognise as German. The two carriers drove straight on unobtrusively and passed through and out of sight. As Corporal Ryan writes:

‘[it] was like waiting for a hand to pluck us out of the dark. Soon after this we were bearing left but heading away from Point 175 when we discovered we were following a patrol of some kind. [Imagine the nerves then.] It was impossible to say who they were so we crept along behind unobserved, as we thought, until they disappeared into a slight depression. This could have been our end, as we followed at a safe distance only to find the patrol had fanned out and was waiting for us to come along. We obliged and were halted at a reasonable distance and Bonny made no bones about it—just carried on, just us covering him.’

The patrol turned out to be of South African armoured cars and the two officers were whisked away to meet Brigadier Pienaar, to whom they delivered the message. This of course, in assuming that the South Africans had already taken Point 175 and needed only to pass through the 25 Battalion and 8 Field Company positions to counter-attack on the Mosque, turned out to be asking the near-impossible, since they were some 13 miles short of the Point. General Norrie, who was near at hand, agreed that, were the brigade able even to take Point 175 during the night, or if it were just by-passed, it was still physically impossible to recapture the Mosque at first light.

So the two officers were sent back to the New Zealand Division with these dismal tidings. And furthermore, they had to get there!

In making a big detour out to the south they completely missed the Blockhouse and at dawn found themselves with a German armoured column between it and themselves.

‘Without any hesitation [writes Ryan] Bonny gave the order straight through the lines to the Block House. We took off with Nick [Wilder] in pursuit and everything went well until we had cleared the lines and [were] half way across the flat to the Block House. 3 or 4 German tanks on our left opened up and the chase was on. Fortunately everything kept passing just over the top of us until one scored a direct hit on Nick's carrier. Looking round I saw it disappear in a cloud of dust and smoke, slow right down, and come again.’

Both carriers were still under fire as they clattered and slithered down the escarpment, and full praise must go to their drivers, Troopers Bloxham

Tpr A. F. Bloxham; Balclutha; born Kaitangata, 28 Jan 1918; coal-miner; wounded 2 Nov 1942.

and Gambirazzi.

Cpl J. J. Gambirazzi; born Gisborne, 28 Aug 1916; surfaceman.

The latter's carrier just made 4 Brigade Headquarters though holed in several places, including one in the sump. It never went again.

By now the battle had been raging and swaying in this vast cockpit for two weeks. Our wireless, and probably the enemy's too, had been playing tricks, so that friends and foes appeared in unsuspected places and both adopted the same technique— to loose off a shot and see what answer it provoked. Even by using this method both sides were often mistaken, because to some extent they were using each other's weapons. Small wonder then that nerves were frayed while the tension lasted.

Soon after daylight on 1 December the expected attack came from Sidi Rezegh against Belhamed and forced the remnants of 6 Brigade to fall back through 4 Brigade to Zaafran. The 20th Battalion was overrun by tanks and the survivors captured. This attack also split 19 Battalion properly in half, for part of it was at Ed Duda and the remainder at Zaafran. The 18th was also cut off and joined the Tobruk garrison. The Corridor had ceased to exist.

The Division was no longer capable of offensive infantry action; but the field guns, the anti-tank guns—though both of these had suffered heavy casualties—and the last few heavy tanks of the gallant 8th and 44th Royal Tanks were still capable of hitting back; capable, ready, and willing to smack at the enemy whenever and wherever he showed himself at close quarters. And we still had the most telling defence of all— high morale.

That day the attacks came in from all sides on the stubborn circle, but these were not pressed hard, for at every indication of an attack the guns stabbed back, while the RAF bombed 15 Panzer Division.

The sun set behind a cloud of dust where a last attack was being prepared. The guns and the few remaining I tanks held this off while the remains of the Division were forming into a tight column for the drive back to the frontier. They were to leave behind them the last few tanks, with those lion-hearted crews gallantly intending to fight a rearguard action alone. By 6 p.m. the column was on the way back along the Trigh Capuzzo. The Div Cav squadron, guided by flares from 1 South African Brigade, led the way to the top of the escarpment by the track its men now knew so well. Once on top, the column passed through a South African rearguard and travelled due south for an hour before making a beeline for Bir Gibni, about 30 miles away.

It was a hard night. As soon as the column was clear of the enemy area, reaction set in; but the men, particularly the drivers, all utterly exhausted, found themselves contending with an even more persistent and relentless opponent, sleep. The night was dark as Erebus and the whole 30 miles of the journey was a waking nightmare. Mile after mile the drivers, peering through monotonous darkness at the murky shapelessness of a vehicle ahead, were continuously fighting a losing battle for consciousness.

The column reached Bir Gibni at 4 a.m. on 2 December and, the tension now relaxed, every man was asleep in a matter of seconds, many of them before they had got into their blankets.

The Division, less 5 Brigade, was headed for Baggush to rest before beginning to refit, and the journey was continued at 11 a.m., through the gap at El Rabta. The Divisional Cavalry Regiment was now under command of 3 South African Brigade at Bardia and, as the New Zealand 4 and 6 Brigades had passed the frontier, C Squadron halted before heading north to rejoin the other squadrons.

General Freyberg sent for Major Bonifant to say goodbye and, in so doing, gave him a most heartening word of thanks. He congratulated him on the work of the squadron, saying that it had done every job asked of it in the true cavalry spirit and that valuable information had been gained by its efforts.

CHAPTER 9 The Capture of Bardia

The New Zealanders' thrust, which cut off Bardia from the west, implanted between Bardia and Sollum a firm wedge into the enemy's fortress line on the frontier; so, when the greater part of the Division made off towards Sidi Rezegh on 23 November, 5 Brigade Group was left under command of 4 Indian Division, and later of 13 Corps, to hold this position and exploit it until the brigade could be relieved and allowed to rejoin the Division. Despite the fact that the other two brigades were desperately in need of reinforcement and that the arrival of a third brigade would have entirely changed the whole course of the fighting, this could not be done, for there was no brigade to replace the 5th.

During the previous evening, the 22nd, the regimental patrol line was taken over by units of 4 Brigade, and the regiment, less C Squadron, which remained where it was to join up with 4 Brigade for the advance on Gambut, was to come under command of 5 Brigade; and so it retired to laager positions near the Trigh Capuzzo. In the morning it assembled at Sidi Azeiz, which was held by 22 Battalion. There was no call on the squadrons that day, the 23rd, and the crews took advantage of the lull to do what maintenance and small repairs they could.

That night the squadrons found themselves required to laager with the infantry. In an infantry unit the type of laager adopted is of a very set form because, owing to the large amount of transport, it would be impossible in the dark to find any particular headquarters. The men of the cavalry squadrons, accustomed to forming little circles just as each troop happened to arrive at the end of the day, voiced, rather unreasonably perhaps, their disgust at this ‘parade-ground’ type of laager.

On the 24th Brigadier Hargest,

Brig J. Hargest, CBE, DSO and bar, MC, m.i.d., MC (Gk); born Gore, 4 Sep 1891; farmer; MP, 1931–44; Otago Mtd Rifles, 1914–20 (CO 2 Bn, Otago Regt); comd 5 Bde May 1940-Nov 1941; p.w. 27 Nov 1941; escaped, Italy, Mar 1943; killed in action, France, 12 Aug 1944.

who had sent 22 Battalion to Menastir and had moved his own headquarters to Sidi Azeiz, gave the two squadrons an extensive patrol line which ran in a huge semi-circle of a radius of about ten miles round Sidi Azeiz. The line began at Bir Zemla in the north, ran along the top of the escarpment past the Bardia defences, south to Fort Capuzzo, and then more west to Bir Hafid. This was a very long line to be covered by two squadrons, totalling at most only twenty-six vehicles. Its function was to link up the 22 and 23 Battalion positions.

Overnight the Brigadier received word that enemy armoured columns had left the main battle and were thrusting east to their frontier positions and doing what damage they could to our lines of communication. One of these columns was coming along the Trigh el Abd and was therefore expected to meet the Wire, and possibly pass into Egypt, at Sheferzen. Brigadier Hargest, on the 25th, asked for two carrier troops to patrol a line south of Sidi Azeiz, running west from Sollum Barracks, through Musaid to Bir Hafid, upon which line they could give warning of an enemy approach.

These patrols made no contact with the enemy, but word came through during the day that a column was indeed on the Egyptian side of the Wire, was heading north, and by dark was some 20 miles away, under attention from the RAF. So, in the evening, the Brigadier took the precaution of sending his transport well away from Sidi Azeiz to the protection of 22 Battalion at Bir Zemla; whither Captain McQueen went also with HQ Squadron.

At 5.30 a.m. on the 26th it was thought that the squadron had got lost and was blundering back into Sidi Azeiz. There were indeed transport vehicles coming right into the B Squadron laager but these turned out to be enemy. The squadron opened fire and the attached troop of 32 Anti-Tank Battery knocked out a staff car containing two doctors. At this stage of the fighting it was not uncommon for small parties of enemy transport to be picked up anywhere, since General Rommel had impatiently forged ahead leaving, straggled all over the desert, any vehicles which could not keep up.

All day on the 26th the two squadrons patrolled the same line, picking up odd prisoners whom they handed over to Brigade. These prisoners were from many different units, mostly lorried infantry, but they included quite a variation of troops: tank and anti-tank, field artillery, signals, reconnaissance and medical. Altogether there seemed to be quite a lot of disorganisation among the enemy.

Rommel's move to the frontier was designed to catch the British forces besieging the frontier positions and, attacking them from the west, to crush them against his fortress line.

Breaking camp at Ngaruawahia, 4 January 1940black and white photograph of soldiers resting

Divisional Cavalry leaves Auckland Domain after the farewell parade, 3 January 1940black and white photograph of soldiers marching

First Echelon convoy in the Indian Oceanblack and white photograph of ships in the ocean

Arrival in Egypt—marching in to Maadi Campblack and white photograph of soldiers marching

Lt-Col C. J. Pierce (left)and Capt R. H. Bell (Adjutant) at Maadi, August 1940black and white photograph of officers

Colonel Pierce's driver (Sgt A. T. Caley) sets his sun compassblack and white photograph of soldier looking at compass

Arriving to take part in the Anzac Day service during manoeuvres at El Saff, April 1940black and white photograph of soldiers on armour vehicles

Training with Mark II light tanks, Wadi Digla, 1940black and white photograph of soldier on tank

At Helwan Camp, January 1941. Left to right: C. B. McIntosh, W. T. Weir, R. J. Loughnan and M. G. Loughnanblack and white photograph of group of soldiers

The train journey north through Greeceblack and white photograph of soldier on train

Marmon-Herrington armoured car in Greeceblack and white photograph of soldier on armour car

The Aliakmon bridge after its destructionblack and white photograph of destroyed bridge

German dive-bomber shot down by the Divisional Cavalry during the withdrawal in Greeceblack and white photograph of plane crash

‘The morning we landed in Crete’black and white photograph of soldiers marching

German parachutists land near Galatasblack and white photograph of planes

These soldiers rowed an 18ft open boat 150 miles from Greece towards Crete until taken in tow by a Greek scow:

Sergeant-Major G. T. Seccombe (nearest camera); (behind him) Sgt T. Hayward of 28 (Maori) Battalion; (in tin hat) Sgt Dick Rakanui of 28 Bn; (centre, amidships) Maj E. R. Harford; (by gunwale) Tpr. A. J. Jonson; (with towel round his head) Lt M. P. Studholme, Tpr R. Baker, Tpr R. Wildash (at oar); (behind Studholme) Tpr H. Andrell, Tpr C. Lovell (centre), Tpr T. Bradford (hand on rowlcok); Tpr W. Greenwood (in bows); Absent, Cpl W. J. Ryan (the photographer)

black and white photograph of soldiers in a boat

C Squadron crew with a recaptured Stuart tank. WO II C. W. Mack, Cpl P. L. Titchener, Tprs A. J. Kennington and T. G. L. Hawkinsblack and white photograph of soldiers sitting on tank

B Squadron tank at Bardia. Left to right: A. G. Scott, A. McMahon, R. Stokes, P. Fullerton-Smith. On right: The mosque at Sidi Rezeghblack and white photograph of soldiers on tank and prayer house

Prisoner-of-war compound, Bardia, 2 January 1942black and white photograph of soldiers waving hand

General Freyberg inspects the Regiment at Maadi, 4 March, 1942black and white photograph of soldiers in parade

Captured German staff car, retained by the Divisional Cavalry, bogged down on the Homs–Tripoli roadblack and white photograph of car stuck in water

Convoy halts beside Lake Tiberias en route to Egypt, June 1942black and white photograph of military vehicles

The first issue of Honey tanks, 8 July 1942black and white photograph of tanks

RHQ signals control truck in communication with squadrons, July 1942black and white photograph of soldier sitting outside truck

Mr Churchill meets Sgt Alan Sperry during his visit to 2 NZ Divison at El Alamein, August 1942black and white photograph of army officers shaking hands

Dustblack and white photograph of road dus