The 36th Battalion: a record of service of the 36th Battalion with the Third Division in the Pacific

Front Cover

Spine

Back Cover

Title Page

This map indicates the tactical position in the Pacific in August 1942 when the Allied counter offensive was beginning. Principal bases and shipping and air lines are shown by black triangles and the long arrows. Enemy bases are represented by white triangles. The darker mass indicates the extreme depth of Japanese penetration in the Pacific. In August 1942 the Third Division was returning from Fiji for reorganization.

13 The 36th Battalion

Supplies poured into Falamai, Mono Island, when the fighting ceased and units settled down. Here are trucks waiting to transport gear as it comes ashore. In the background, where clearing up is in progress, are piles of kitbags. All traces of the native village have disappeared

The 36th Battalion A Record of Service of the 36th BattalionWith the Third Division in the Pacific Published by A. H. and A. W. Reedforthe Third Division Histories Committee

Acknowledgments

This is one of a series of thirteen unofficial narratives detailing the activities of units of the Third New Zealand Division and its base organisation during their service in the Pacific theatre of war from 1940, when the original 8th Brigade Group was despatched to Fiji, until 1944, when the division was disbanded. Between those two dates the brigade group was expanded to become a division, which came under command of American forces and with them took part in the Solomons campaign.

At the conclusion of active operations in the Pacific, unit historical committees were appointed to select editors and arrange for the compilation and collection of all material, photographs and drawings. Final decisions and arrangements were vested in a Divisional Histories Committee and its editor. Alt the work associated with the writing and publication of these narratives has been done by officers, NCOs and men of the units and has been performed anonymously.

Acknowledgment is made for the use of unit war diaries and narratives, to which the writers were given access by the archives section of Army Headquarters. Photographs were collected from private and official sources, both New Zealand and American, and the drawings and paintings of two official war artists who went into the Pacific have also been used.

The copyright is held by the trustees of the Third Division.

This Book is Dedicated to

Those of our Comrades of

The Second New Zealand

Expeditionary Force who

Take Their Final rest on

Pacific Islands

Set up. Printed and Bound in New Zealand by

Hutcheson, Bowman & Stewart Ltd., Wellington

1947

Foreword By Lieutenant-Colonel B. H. Pringle

A history of the 36th Battalion would not be complete without some recognition of the sound command and guidance of its first commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel J. W. Barry, NZSC, and of its senior NCO Warrant-Officer First Class R. A. Arkless, a splendid regimental sergeant major and a fine soldierly example to all. Both these officers were experienced and efficient soldiers, and a great asset to the foundation of a battalion. Their influence and their military knowledge were great and have reflected throughout the battalion at all times.

The 36th has always had that fine quality, esprit de corps, which means so much to a unit. It has maintained a splendid spirit of good-fellowship and pride in itself. The battalion has been com-posed of men from all walks of life and from all parts of New Zealand. Officers, NCO's and men have given of their best.

At this date, 21 April 1944, the first chapter in the battalion history is drawing to a close. May the outlook of the 36th be always with it and with all ranks that have passed through it. This history of the battalion is a recording of its life from December 1941, until the dissolution in the latter part of 1944. Altogether it has taken 80 officers and 1300 other ranks to maintain the battalion.

In conclusion, on behalf of the battalion, I wish to thank all those who have so ably assisted in the production of this volume, those who wrote the history, contributed articles, verse and sketches and, in particular, the editorial staff.

Contents

Chapter Page One—Papakura 9 Two—Fiji 12 Three—Avondale 22 Four—Norfolk Island 24 Five—New Caledonia 31 Six—New Hebrides and Guadalcanal 41 Seven—The Treasuries 50 Eight—Invitation to Battle 65 Nine—In the Foxholes 68 Ten—24 Hours with the Signals Platoon 71 Eleven—Bogged Down 76 Twelve—'Mortars Up' 79 Thirteen—Galloping Gerty 84 Fourteen—Entertainment 87 Fifteen—Sports History 91 Sixteen—Unit Biographies 105 Seventeen—For Gallantry 107 Eighteen—Roll of Honour 110 Battalion Verses 112 Battalion Nominal Roll 119

Chapter OnePapakura

So many histories which describe the march of events in the Pacific commence with the words, 'on the morning of Sunday, 7 December 1941', that one has hesitation in using them. Yet the the birth of the 36th Battalion 2 NZEF must be attributed to the surprise attack by the Japanese on Pearl Harbour. At once the Pacific became the focal point of attention. It soon became apparent how little had been done to safeguard Britain's eastern possessions, while she had concentrated her resources for the life and death struggle for her own shores.

Before the close of the old year the Japanese forces had begun their irresistible advance south. The Philippines had been invaded; Shanghai had been occupied; Hong Kong had surrendered. Wake, Guam, the Gilberts and part of Malaya were in the hands of the enemy. The foe was at the gates of Singapore. Samoa had been shelled, and there appeared to be nothing which could stand in the way of the enemy's progress. The dark cloud of invasion loomed over the New Zealand horizon. This was the situation in which the New Zealand Government made its bold decision to fulfil its commitments and to defend with every available man those outposts which would have to fall before our country could be attacked. So it was that three infantry battalions were sent immediately to join the New Zealand garrison which was already established in Fiji.

With this background, let us follow the progress of one of these battalions; one which has known the rigours and hardships of tropical soldiering; which, like others, has had its lighter moments; which, after two longs years of garrison duties, at last found justification in action; and in which every man has been proud to serve, and, in serving, has been imbued with the spirit that only a really fine unit can give.

Under the command of Lieutenant 'Colonel J. W. Barry, the 36th Battalion was formed at Papakura Military Camp on 29 December 1941. The nucleus of the battalion was the Central District eighth reinforcements, who had just returned from final leave, expecting an early departure to join their brothers in arms, the Second Division in the Middle East. From a body of reinforcements the change had to be effected to a mixed infantry battalion, with its headquarters company, three rifle companies and a machine gun company.

The original officers were drawn largely from the Tank Brigade, some from the Divisional Cavalry and from the eighth reinforcements. The following were the original senior officers:—

CO, Lieutenant-Colonel J. W. Barry; 2-I-C, Major B. H. Pringle; adjutant, Captain W. B. Cameron; quartermaster, Captain N. J. T. Webster; HQ company, Major W. H. Allen; A company, Major W. Huse; B company, Captain A. H. Johnston; C company, Captain I. H. Macarthur; D (support) company, Captain I. G. O'Neill.

There were hectic last days at Papakura as 1941 drew to a close. Christmas had been celebrated a week before its time, as we had anticipated that we would be leaving early for the Middle East theatre of operations. No time was lost in festivities. Equipment was pouring in, and had to be allocated and packed immediately. The tremendous task of preparing rolls, marching in men from all parts of the country, who were arriving in small drafts at all hours, was expeditiously handled by the battalion orderly room staff. Finally the advanced party embarked for overseas at Auckland on 2 January 194a. It consisted of A company and one platoon of MMGs, a total of 176 men, who disembarked at Suva on 6 January. The main job was to get the camp ready for the arrival of the remainder of the battalion, while the liaison officer spent much time acquiring a knowledge of the tactical situation and of the role the battalion was to play in the defence of Suva.

The 36th Battalion now became part of the 8th Infantry Brigade, which was responsible for the defence of the Suva side of Fiji and which already comprised the 29th Battalion and the 34th Battalion. The brigade was under the command of Brigadier L. G. Goss, and it was part of the Pacific Section of 2 NZEF, which early in the year became known as the Third New Zealand Division. Shortly after our arrival Brigadier Goss was succeeded by Brigadier R. A. Row who, except for the final few months in Fiji, when he was relieved by Brigadier Hunt, remained in command of the Brigade till after the action in the Solomons. Embarkation of the main body took place on 10 January, also from Auckland, and we had a very calm passage in delightfully sunny weather, growing hotter each day. We reached Suva on 14 January, and trucks were awaiting to transport us to Samambula Camp, some four miles out of Suva.

Chapter TwoFiji

The month of January found the battalion settling in, occupying battle positions in the Suva town area and carrying out a complete reconnaissance for defence in depth. Then digging and wiring commenced, a task which was to occupy us continuously during our seven months in Fiji. Daily, companies could be seen, marching along the dust-clouded roads leading into Suva, ready for a day's hard work in the boiling summer sun, picking at soapstone, siting positions to give arcs of fire, erecting miles of double-apron fencing.

In Samambula Camp, on the rolling, guava-clad slopes overlooking the peninsula, airy huts suitable for army garrison use had been built. The use of Indians and Fijians for work in the cookhouses and for keeping the camp tidy freed the troops for more urgent tasks. In order to eliminate the daiiy march to town, billets were occupied at Huon Street Methodist School, St. Felix Boys' College and St. Anne's Girls' College. The two last were airy buildings, well ventilated and commanding a splendid view of the harbour. Few will forget the view looking up from Nambukulau Creek to the hillside below St. Felix, ablaze with pink and purple bougainvillea, hibiscus and the variegated reds of crotons and poinsettia, or the broad harbour outlook from the verandah of St. Anne's. Headquarters company found a permanent home at Huon Street, and one rifle company was maintained permanently at Samambula Camp. Besides facilitating work on the defences, the new arrangement of the companies now provided the maximum dispersion, and in the event of an emergency, we would be able to occupy our posts within a matter of minutes on the receipt of orders.

Suva and the surrounding countryside became well known to members of the 36th Battalion

Nobody will ever forget the rapid ringing of the alarm gongs in the dead of night; the frantic rush to dress in battle equipment in the dark; the march into Suva, with the tumble-down Indian houses silhouetted along the roadside and everything quiet but for the rhythmic crunch of marching feet. Then, the silent move into weapon pits against which the sea water was lapping, or into head-quarters tunnelled in the soapstone hills of the town. Here, we watched through the dawning hours and awaited the welcome 'All Clear', when we could march back through an awakening town.

By March the Japanese threat was drawing nearer. In rapid succession what had been assumed to be insurmountable obstacles to the enemy's advance were taken. Portions of New Guinea and the Solomons fell into enemy hands. Darwin was bombed. The threat to our homeland became more and more acute. The tempo of the battalion's work was stepped up. In the disastrous fall of Singapore we had seen what it meant to leave the back door unguarded, and, in our own defences, we were determined that, small though our force was, there would be no loophole or weakness.

The work on the 'Three Pimples' had been commenced by our predecessors in the Suva area, the 29th Battalion, and improvement and extension of the existing positions was undertaken early. It was foreseen that in the event of an enemy attack in overwhelming strength, every house which held a commanding position would become fresh protection from which to resist his advance, until finally in the 'Three Pimples' we had a defensive line where a last stand' could be made. Here miles of wire were laid, and each day would see hundreds of yards of apron fencing creeping round the hillsides and through the tall native grass. During this work we had our first introduction to the 'sensitive plant'. Its scratches rapidly turned septic, and we incurred for the first time those tropical sores, ulcers and skin infections, which were to be a constant menace to physical and mental health over two years of tropical soldiering.

Work was also commenced on what was known as the 'back line'. A natural obstacle was found for tanks in the terrain of this area. Deep, bush-filled ravines and a mat of trailing vines made it impassable for machines and hazardous for enemy infantry. Clinging to the ridges were the primitive Indian gardens, with their patches of dalo, yangona, tapioca and water-melon (irresistible to the thirsty New Zealander). For most of us it was a revelation to see the simplicity of these natives' lives, as they daily tilled their gardens, breaking in new land with nothing more than a hoe and living in shacks of corrugated iron with earth floors. In their eyes we New Zealanders must have seemed a strange sight as, toiling and sweating, we painfully hewed our weapon-pits out of the resisting rock. The war had no reality for them. They had probably heard of the advance of the Japanese almost to these shores, but still it must have seemed far-off. Now their own lands were being occupied by scores of soldiers, daily arriving at daybreak with their picks, shovels and the ever-present container of tea. These soldiers were a laughing cheery crowd, clad in boots and shorts, by now deeply tanned by the sun, full of curses about the heat, their tools, the rock on which they expended so much energy, but withal content, because there was point and purpose to their work. Such names as the 'Chinaman's Hut' and 'Dirty Corner' became familiar to us. 'Dirty Corner,' for example, was a tortuous system of ravines where five separate streams joined in an inextricable tangle of bush and vines.

At 2322 hours—or 11.22 p.m.—on Sunday, 9 March, a message was received from brigade headquarters that a Japanese convoy with naval support had been sighted some 60 miles north-west of the island of Mololo, off the coast of Fiji. Companies were warned to be ready to move at a moment's notice. Battle equipment and 24 hours' rations were issued, and we were allowed to rest, provided everyone remained fully clothed. Few had nerves strong enough to allow them to sleep peacefully under what seemed an imminent threat of invasion. At 3.45 in the morning a message was received to move to our battle positions. They were grim sentries who stood in their weapon-pits staring across the water as the dawn broke. The remainder of the men were working feverishly to complete defences. One company's arcs of fire were blocked by trees and hedges in the Governor's residence; so in a matter of minutes they were felled and cleared. Someone had discovered a grindstone, so whilst one party felled the trees the remainder ground their bayonets to battle sharpness.

Another company had constructed log frameworks which were strung with barbed wire, and could be hauled into position whenever required. When they came to put them in place, they discovered that the river barges had the previous day unloaded thousands of bamboo poles there. These were accordingly hurled into the harbour, and the fences erected. This was to cause the air force a great deal of work and anxiety over the next few days until all the bamboo poles had been retrieved, as they endangered seaplanes in the harbour. Streets and intersections were blocked. The citizens of Suva, arriving to work in the morning, were amazed.

At 7 am word was received that Nandi on the north-west side of the island had been shelled and that the Japanese convoy was approaching Suva. Our next information was that the enemy had landed and was advancing overland from Nausori. Since this was absolutely impossible, it was then that we realised that it was only a manoeuvre, and the keyed-up nervous tension relaxed. The exercise was not completed, however, until we had carried out a forced march of some ten miles to stem the so-called enemy. Never had a march called for such physical endurance. There was little spirit behind our footsteps and along the hot, dusty roads, every step was an effort. The manoeuvre was concluded at mid-day, and we returned to camp. All were annoyed at being hoaxed, but one thing was evident—that if and when the real test came, the enemy would have to face ready and resolute men who would make him pay dearly for any attempt to close with them:

This was but one of many alarms and stand-to's which were carried out in order that a continual state of readiness might be maintained. They were continued in earnest until after the Coral Sea Battle was fought on 4 May 1942. We knew of the concentration of enemy shipping in the Solomons which was expected to move south-west against Australia or south-east to Fiji, and thence to New Zealand. In that sea battle it was American naval supremacy which stemmed the Japanese naval penetration south and proved to be the turning point which led to the subsequent powerful wave of Allied sea, land and air power, which swept northwards.

Toward the end of March training exercises commenced. They were to cover, over the next few months, the wide range of country which surrounds Suva—mountains with their jungle-clad slopes, mangrove swamps, grasslands and paddy fields. On 25 March 1942, the battalion intelligence section under Lieutenant G. McL. Blyth, the intelligence officer, went out on reconnaissance in the Navua area. The section became lost and, after three perilous days, managed to reach a native village, and made contact with the battalion again. Lieutenant Blyth, however, had become separated from the party, and was subsequently found by a search party, accidentally drowned in the Wainikova River. This was the battalion's first casualty, and an impressive funeral, with full military honours was held at the Suva cemetery. As the initial digging and wiring plans were completed, more time was given to training. In May and June, two and three-day exercises were carried out in the back-line area. Route marching was begun, with distances of up to 25 miles in the hot tropical sun. The routes most favoured were those which provided for a swim to cool off at the mid-day halt. Many have very vivid

The Government Buildings, Suva, FijiCrossroads of the South Pacific, the Fiji Group lies some 1,100 miles north of Auckland. Largest and most important is the island of Viti Levu. Suva, the capital, with a population of 14,000, is the finest township and port in the South Pacific. The 100,000 native Fijians are usually described as Melanesians, but have many of the most attractive qualities of the Polynesians. They are now almost equalled in numbers by the Indian population. Fiji was annexed by Great Britain in 1874 and is administered as a crown colony by the Colonial Office in London

Looking west from the heights of Tamavua, behind Suva

Young Fijians take readily to the warm waterrecollections of the march to Nausori and back along Prince's Road, when, at mid-day, covered in sweat and dust from head to foot, they plunged into the swimming pool at Theodore's residence at Colo-Suva. C company climbed Mount Korombamba, whilst A and D (support) companies have painful memories of the time when they went in from Lami to climb Mount Nakombalevu. B company started the battalion's training in river crossing by a demonstration carried out on the Samambula River. Many ingenious methods were suggested by which a fully armed soldier could get across an unfordable river.

Perhaps the exercise which provided the high lights at this time— May, 1942—was the attack on the Indian mosque feature along the Nausori Road. Here 'Steggo's Panders'—comprising motor cycles, carriers and beaverettes, achieved lasting glory. One rifle section, could have been observed advancing gingerly along the half-submerged, narrow Indian tracks through the paddy-fields, and then taking the wrong turning to continue the rest of the journey up to their arm-pits in muddy water—a spectacle more amusing for observer than participant. By far the most important of our training exercises in Fiji was our clash with the First Battalion of the Fiji Defence Force. On this occasion the FDF was the enemy whose object it was to attack Suva and destroy installations. They were to land at Navua some thirty miles away, and the 36th Battalion was to go out to meet them and to prevent their advance at all costs. In order to provide training for the engineers, it was ruled by the umpires that all bridges were down, and that no transport could cross until new bridges had been constructed.

During the week preceding the exercise much thought was given to ways and means of outwitting the redoubtable Fijians. Colonel Barry appreciated the fact that, approximately half-way between Navua and Suva, the line of the Naikorokoro River provided excellent facilities for defence, and that the task before him was to ensure that he reached this point before the enemy. With the majority of the bridges down in his sector, it looked like a hopeless task. However, the idea of amphibious operations was just dawning. The CO decided to keep up with the times, and a barge was commandeered. At 0600 hours on 10 June the news that the 'enemy'— the FDF had landed at Navua had been received. By 6.30 'Steggo's Panzers' and Number 5 platoon of A company had left the Suva wharf by barge for the Besari River, well on the way to the proposed defence line, and by 8 o'clock this was manned by the advanced guard. Meanwhile, the remainder of the battalion went as far as they could by transport, and then began to march, fording or negotiating each river on rafts of petrol drums or ropes, The speed of this advance completely upset the 'enemy's' plans. Mid-morning saw the battalion plodding along in the midst of a tropical deluge, and since this showed no signs of abating, it was decided to call the exercise off.

Another minor but interesting experiment in this exercise was the 36th Battalion's first experiment in 'fifth column' work, when Corporal Cooke, dressed as a Chinese gardener with wide straw hat and a pole with twin baskets on his shoulder, together with Private Robinson, who had dyed his hair black and made up to look like an Indian, penetrated the Fijians' lines and returned with information as to all their dispositions.

It is well said that 'where there is smoke there is fire', particularly where rumours are concerned. These had been coming thick and fast for weeks past, but with the arrival of the Americans and the beginning of the New Zealand-Fiji ferry service, we knew that it was now only a matter of waiting patiently until our turn came. It was a shock to learn that there was still more defensive work to be done before the handing-over to the American forces could take place, but never was work done with such a will. The slogan was 'Dig for home'. Pits were dug and renovated and more miles of wire appeared.

It soon became apparent that the 36th Battalion would be the last to leave. As other battalions were being withdrawn from their sectors, our position as the battalion stationed in Suva, made us the natural rearguard. Between the months of July and August every effort was made to see places we had not visited before.

On 14 June an All Nations parade was held in Suva, where the growing strength of our American ally was to be seen. All New Zealand, Fijian, Free French and naval units were represented. It was an impressive sight as they marched past the saluting base. Athletic sports had been held at Albert Park under ideal conditions early in April. Few will forget the sight of the park that day, with beflagged greens and the background of palms and imposing buildings. The excitement was intense, as the companies fought for the lead. Sir Harry Luke, Governor of Fiji, presented a beautiful tortoiseshell shield which he had given for the competition to the A company team, as its first winners. At the end of July the battalion swimming sports were held at the Suva baths. Again competition was keen, and headquarters company narrowly carried the day.

The suggestion that a battalion picnic be held was greeted with subdued comments about 'Butchers' Picnics' and the like, but when we arrived at Nasinu experimental farm on a gloriously fine Sunday in July everyone set out to enjoy themselves, and there was plenty to do. Besides side-shows run by the companies, there were novelty races, swimming, and rest under the shade of mango-trees after a typical picnic lunch. At the conclusion, even the most critical voted it a first-rate day. Many members of the battalion were privileged about this time to visit the Fijian native collage at Sawani, also arrangements were made for each company to visit the Nausori sugar mills, where they saw the processes involved from the time the barge loads of cane arrived from the fields up the Rewa River to the final emergence of the refined sugar.

The Fijians took well to soldiering, and the well trained battalions of Fijian troops we saw parading outside their barracks in Suva, drilled with a precision and apparent liking for the job, reminded us of our Maori battalions. A considerable number of New Zealanders went to the FDF as NCOs and when it was first decided to form two Fijian commando units, it was natural that we should lose some members of our battalion to them. Among these were Lieu-tenant (now Major) C. W. H. Tripp, Sergeants F. Williams and P. Holmes, Corporals Collins (killed in action with the commandos in the Solomons), Conn and Jackson, Lance-Corporal Kells and-Private Larsen. Each of these men was later selected for the First Commando Fiji Guerrillas, a unit which, under Major Tripp, distinguished itself in action behind the Japanese lines in the early campaigns in the Solomons. Major Tripp was awarded the DSO for outstanding leadership and bravery, and Sergeant Williams (now Lieutenant) was awarded the American Star during action on Guadalcanal in December 1942. Sergeant Williams was the first member of the 2 NZEF to shoot Japanese in this war.

Looking across Suva Bay from St. Anne's College

No account of the battalion's activities in Fiji would be complete without at least a reference to the fine people who are the native inhabitants of these islands. The Fijian is of remarkable physical build, intelligent and friendly, and during our stay a real and lasting friendship was established between the New Zealand soldiers and the islanders. When, later, we met Fijian commandos on Guadalcanal, it was simply the renewal of an old friendship. Ethnologists may argue as to whether the Fijian is a Melanesian or a Polynesian —to us, he was a fine fellow and a loyal ally. When we were working under the blazing sun on unyielding rock, often a party of Fijian women and children would come up to us, bringing refreshing drinks of kava or baskets of mandarins. Should we pass by a Fijian village on manoeuvres or treks our reception there was that of visiting royalty. 'Isa Lei', the Fijian national song, became the best liked and most frequently sung melody for all New Zealand troops in the Pacific.

About this time, company dinners were held, and these functions took the nature of a welcome farewell to the tropics. Wonderful results were achieved by the various committees in charge of decorating and collecting festive fare. Perhaps the prize went to the brewers who concocted some wicked 'punches' which served admirably to 'break the ice', but every dinner went with a swing. On 20 July a guard of honour was provided by the battalion upon the departure of the Governor of Fiji at the conclusion of his period of office. Both the guard provided on that occasion and the representative company which marched through Suva on the departure of the band were a credit to the battalion. Our Fijian chapter would not be complete without recalling to the minds of those who were fortunate enough to enjoy them the sunny days of relaxation spent on Nukulau Island, and the two-day trips organised to Levuka. These are memories which will last when the darker days and hard times are forgotten.

The first days of August saw the handing-over to the American units completed and the final 'rush of packing. The President Coolidge had arrived, and at 1500 hours on 5 August the battalion embarked. There was still much loading to be completed, and advantage was taken of the delay to make final purchases in Suva. On the afternoon on 10 August the ship pulled away from the wharf to the haunting strains of 'Isa Lei' and 'Bless 'em All'. Perhaps it was as well for the safety of our return voyage that the weather was very rough and overcast, as reports had reached us that enemy submarines were operating in the area.

The welcome accorded us by the lovely Waitemata upon our arrival on Thursday, 13 August, was not outstandingly cordial—it was cold and bleak with continuous drizzling rain. But this was of slight importance, for we had at last reached home. Disembarkation was carried out on the following morning, and we entrained for Papakura. Here our advanced party under Captain D. C. Williams had prepared the camp sites and had already prepared all the rail warrants and other material necessary to get us away on our fourteen days' leave. The first draft left at 4 am on 15 August and in a matter of hours everyone was eagerly heading for his respective home.

Chapter ThreeAvondale

After an all-too short but welcome leave, the battalion returned to camp again. This time we were diverted from Papakura to Avondale, in the suburbs of Auckland. By 3 September the last of the leave parties had marched in, and we were settling down to life in 'six-man' huts. It was bitterly cold at nights and in spite of five blankets and greatcoats on top of them, we still couldn't get warm. But Avondale had its compensations. Every opportunity for leave was made full use of—together with unofficial leave, as was revealed by the crowded 6.25 tram from Auckland City each morning. These happy days looked as though they would be curtailed when a battalion advanced party left to erect a camp at Hunua. Before they had completed it, however, our fate had been decided, and they returned, having handed it over to the 29th Battalion. So we were left in peace for another three weeks in Avondale.

For the many strangers to Auckland in the battalion, the route marches, opening up new vistas of the lovely Queen City from Mount Albert and the Waitakeres, were really worth while. Refresher training was carried out in the racecourse environs and also at Glen Eden and Blockhouse Bay. C and B companies carried out a three days' exercise, attacking from Glen Eden over Mount Atkinson down to the Manukau Harbour, and tales are told of the wet nights in which boat-sheds and empty week-end baches were used as shelter.

We were sorry to see so many of our cobbers leave us at this time. They had given of their best, most of them had passed the forty mark, and in many cases they had families dependent on them. Reinforcement drafts arrived to fill up our ranks. A large number had already had a taste of garrison duty, having served on Great Barrier Island; others came from the south, and so established a friendly North-South Island rivalry which has existed ever since.

Once again the camp resounded to the hammering of crates and packing was soon well under way. We had brought a tremendous amount of junk and odds and ends, including the 'Ross Trailer,' with us from Fiji, but little had we realised how useful they were to prove. When we arrived at our new island home, every pipe, sheet of tin or drum, in the hands of the resourceful New Zealander, meant added comfort. On 18 September Colonel Barry and the intelligence officer left for Wellington, where they received their orders and embarked for Norfolk Island. The battalion was soon to follow, and on 7 October the advanced party comprising A company and the carrier platoon, together with other units of what was to be known as 'N Force', embarked on the transports.

Chapter FourNorfolk Island

There are few members of the 36th Battalion who will have other than happy memories of Norfolk Island. Some were unhappy in Fiji or New Caledonia; the Solomons never appealed to anybody as a tourist resort, still less as a battlefield; but Norfolk was different from these others, unique in the beauty of its scenery, the interest of its extraordinary history and the generous hospitality of its tiny civilian population. Norfolk Island is in no way tropical. It is situated well south of the tropic of Capricon, 630 miles north-west of Auckland and 900 miles from the eastern coast of Australia. Its climate is admirably temperate, not unlike that of North Auckland at its best. The first glimpse of the green slopes behind Kingston from the boat anchored in the bay suggests English down country rather than a Pacific island. The famous pines of Norfolk dominate the landscape with grace and dignity, far different from the' twisted niaouli of New Caledonia that we were to know later. Around the slopes of Mount Pitt patches of bush were strongly reminiscent of New Zealand bush, with their own pungas and nikaus. Nor was there even a single coconut palm. Yes, Norfolk was different.

First let us consider the background of the war which made necessary the defence of this little island. All was not going well with the American Marine forces on Guadalcanal, and the Japanese were counter-attacking at all points. At the beginning of September they had climbed over the Owen Stanley Range and were rapidly advancing toward Port Moresby in New Guinea. In this little out' post of Australia, Norfolk Island, the allies had an important link

Garrison ruins in Norfolk Islandin the communication system between their battle fronts in the South Pacific and their rear bases. Therefore, although our stay in Norfolk could well be called the summer holiday of the battalion, there was justification for our presence there, and measures of preparedness were never relaxed.

The days of arrival, both for the advanced party and for the main body a week later, were unforgettable. The former saw Norfolk at its best on a gloriously fine day, while the main body arrived in pouring rain and made their way to their camp areas along roads ankle deep in mud. We were impressed by the masterly seamanship displayed by the Islanders as they skilfully ran their boats laden with men in on a combing wave through the narrow reef entrance up to the convict-built, stone jetty. The unloading of stores and equipment was to prove a very real problem during our six months' stay. The broken down equipment was never meant to handle such loads, but somehow in spite of many mechanical breaks, the job was done. We were always dependent on the weather, and should the swell run from the north, Kingston was the only anchorage which could be worked. Yet, with a change to the south, which could occur any time during the day, the ship would have to heave-to off Cascade. Whale-boats would then have to be loaded on trucks and carted across the island. Unloading was delayed to such an extent that a ship which, further north, we would have unloaded in two days, would take anything up to six weeks under Norfolk conditions.

Camp sites had been allocated to each company, taking into account its proximity to the defensive task allotted it. The force headquarters was in a central position and, fortunately, meeting all strategic requirements, the lovely house and grounds of 'Devon' were available. The name 'Whitewings' appealed to A company's fancy as soon as they arrived, and the beauty of the outlook from the place where they pitched their tents was a never failing source of delight. There were glimpses through the pines of the town of Kingston below, the surf beating against Nepean Island and in the distance the red barrenness of Phillip Island. A drive through beautiful park lands brought you to Anson Bay, and here, tucked away in the wild lantana, B company built its home.

Tall, grass-clad hills close to the coast at Cascade surrounded C company in the valley below. We all envied them their crystal clear stream which flowed through the camp, especially later when, in the dryness of the summer, their garden flourished whilst others wilted and died. Nestling under the tall, dark pines along Collins Head Road D (support) company's tents reminded us of happy days spent camping at home. Headquarters company was likewise situated beneath the pines on a level, green sward, and upon its completion their home was something to be proud of. Here, too, Padre Liggett set up his tents and named his area, the 'Four Pines'. It became the hub of entertainment and learning on the island. It is doubtful whether we will ever again have camp sites like these. It was in these idyllic surroundings that we were to work, have fun and know beauty, until the war called us north again.

Life during the first few weeks was rugged. The tents were still in the hold of the ship, and the weather precluded any speedy unloading. All sorts of temporary shelters sprang up. Two sheets of rusty corrugated iron (if you were lucky enough to get them) and a ground sheet made a home to keep out the worst of the rain. Some men slept in deserted houses and others under the pines.

The only food available was what little we had carried with us. It had been assumed that the cargo ship would be unloaded before our arrival. In fact it was not until one month later that unloading was completed. During this time we subsisted on bully beef, rock-

Norfolk IslandSix hundred miles north of Auckland and 1,000 miles north-west of Sydney lies Norfolk Island. Five miles long and three miles wide, intersected by dusty red roads and dotted with clumps of the famous Norfolk pine, it is picturesque beyond any other Pacific Island. It was a convict settlement in the 1840's and the stone ruins at Kingston mark that era of cruelty. In 1856 Norfolk became the new home of the Pitcairn islanders, descendants of the Bounty mutineers, who live there still to-day. Discovered by Captain Cook, it is now part of the territory of the Commonwealth of Australia. With a high, irregular coastline which defends it from the sea, Norfolk climbs by hilly roads 'up country' and gather in the centre to the bush-clad peak of Mount Pitt about 1,000 feet high. There is no harbour—landings are made by small boat at Kingston in the south and Cascade in the North. For its healthy climate and beautiful scenery. Norfolk has been called the 'Madeira of the Pacific'

Headquarters of C Company at Cascade, Norfolk Island

Bogged in Kingston Swamp

This Norfolk Island Jetty was built by the convicts

Landing on Norfolk

Among the whale bones at Ball Bay, Norfolk Island

A boxing ring against a background of Norfolk pineslike army biscuits—which proved the ruin of many a set of dentures, jam and life-saving tea. After some weeks the bakery commenced operations and the rations gradually improved, but the shortage of fare was ever present, and in spite of all that was done to supplement the rations, we never had the fully satisfying meals to which we were accustomed.

Soon after our arrival we said farewell to the company of the AIF we had relieved. Together with the small Norfolk Island infantry detachment, N Force commenced work on the defence of the island. A 24-hour watch was maintained at commanding observation points, and soon the coastline became dotted with defence works. These had to be continuously repaired, as the mutton birds would fly into them and start to burrow their way out again.

The greater part of the coastline consisted of sheer, rocky cliffs against which the Pacific rollers thundered, throwing into the air clouds of spray. Here enemy landings were impossible, but, wherever there appeared to be any possibility of the enemy gaining a foothold, positions were sited to beat him off. At dawn each morning the island coastline was manned. Though this was an enforced vigilance, the beauty of those early morning sunrises is in retrospect an unforgettable memory. The ruthless demands of war dictated that the stately 'Avenue of Pines' be destroyed in order that an aerodrome might be constructed. These pines had been a source of pride of the islanders and had delighted their eyes over scores of years. Tears were shed as the old gave way to the new and war, willy nilly, thrust progress on these home-loving, contented people.

When most of the defence works were completed, every effort was made to maintain interest, and prevent 'browning off'. Too easily a unit with nothing to do slips back. Route marches, plenty of sport and minor training exercises saw to it that the standard of efficiency of the battalion was maintained. In spite of its smallness —five miles long by three miles wide—Norfolk was able to provide up to 25-mile route marches by road without covering the same ground twice. One company commander in outlining the route to his company, declared that it was almost all down hill. Almost? He has never lived that statement down.

The 36th Battalion athletic sports were held in December and were convincingly won by D (support) company, who thereby gained possession of the Luke Shield. These were closely followed by N Force sports on Boxing Day. Perhaps the battalion had fared too well on the previous day, for the 215 Composite AA Battery carried the field at the conclusion of a splendid meeting.

Christmas Day on Norfolk will never be forgotten. Every company had gone to great lengths to make our first Christmas away from home a memorable one. Mess halls were decorated, table cloths were borrowed, as were also cutlery and plates, beer had arrived in the nick of time; there were even cigars, and the tables literally groaned under the weight of good things. Early on Christmas morning news had arrived that two planes laden with lamb, new potatoes and green peas were on their way from New Zealand. Exactly at a quarter to nine, the first plane dropped its load of parachutes over the drome. Some failed to open and the strip was strewn with potatoes and shelled peas. The other plane decided to come down and was thus the first plane to land at Norfolk. It was a great moment for the island people, and we were proud that it was the RNZAF which had this distinction. Before long these welcome Christmas presents from home were cooking in the company ovens. Some companies left theirs to the following day, as they had ordered supplies of pork or poultry earlier. At 'Whitewings', 'Steggo' as Santa Claus, dressed in a red dressing gown, a vast straggly cotton wool beard and a tin hat had everyone in fits of laughter, as he took down from the Christmas tree an appropriate present for every man, accompanied by his own inimitable comments.

New Year's Day was a momentous one for Major Pringle and the other farmers of the battalion, for on that day 300 sheep arrived from New Zealand. The difficult task of getting them ashore on lighters was successfully accomplished with the loss of only one overboard. Besides providing a subject for study and discussion for the many farmers in the battalion, they were—which was more important—a very welcome addition to our fare.

As each company completed the building and beautification of its camp area, it held an 'At Home'. These functions allowed us to reciprocate the hospitality we had received from the Norfolk people. Each company provided something interesting and novel, ranging from rides in bren carriers to gymnastic displays, wrestling, tennis, wood chopping, fortune telling and displays of weapons. One should not forget B company's scheme of 'how to destroy a tank', with the able assistance of the engineers, anti-tank rifles and 16 sticks of gelignite.

No record of how we conquered idleness would be complete without reference to the entertainment we had to make for ourselves. There were no picture theatres, so it was a question of co-opting all available talent. In the hands of Padre Liggett, Lieutenant A. G. Steggles, and Warrant Officer Second class R. J. Rough splendid concerts were produced each fortnight. Starting with the tray of a truck for the first stage at 'Waverney', before long a first-rate stage was built in Bailey's paddock. Here the whole military and civil population would gather on a Saturday night for an evening's thorough enjoyment. Let us not forget the officers' concert, either, when the combined officers of the force really let themselves go. The battalion and force swimming sports were held in the clear, blue waters of Emily Bay toward the end of February. Both contests were held in fine weather, when the beach looked at its best. The excellence of B company's swimmers gave the battalion an unassailable lead in the force sports. About this time the Force boxing championships were held at the stage in Charley Bailey's paddock. We enjoyed a good, clean afternoon's sport, under strict army rules of boxing, and saw the battalion team easy victors at the end of a fine contest.

When the late Rt. Hon. J. G. Coates arrived on a visit of inspection he found a hot bed of rumours. Were we going home, or were we going north to rejoin our old brigade in the Third New Zealand Division? Information was sought from him in his breezy visits to each camp, but upon his departure no one was any the wiser. Then, within a few weeks, movement orders were received. Our destination was to be New Caledonia. By now we were well versed in the art of packing. Soon it was completed, and we were making our farewells to the island people with whom we had been so happy.

The move was carried out in three stages. The advanced party, consisting of Major Pringle, the battalion's second-in-command, the company commanders and a selected party of handymen from each company, embarked under atrocious weather conditions on 29 March 1943. During the following week the handing over to the 1st Battalion of the Wellington-West Coast Regiment took place, and on 7 April the main body embarked. A week later the commanding officer and the rear party, who had completed the relief with the incoming unit, left to join up with the battalion in New Caledonia.

Chapter FiveNew Caledonia

The advanced party from Norfolk landed at Nouméa at 1100 hours on 31 March 1943 and moved to Bouloupari, where they were warmly welcomed by Brigadier Row and his staff. The brigadier was undoubtedly glad to have one of his battalions back, and the members of the advanced party felt—and this feeling was later shared by the main body—that, even after the pleasant Norfolk interlude, it was good to be back with the Eighth Brigade, to be able to renew old friendships and to be again part of an organisation that seemed likely to take an active part in the Pacific theatre of operations. On the following morning the advanced party moved into the new battalion camp site on the Ouenghi River, erected a temporary camp and immediately set to work preparing the camp for the main body.

The Ouenghi Camp, which was to be our home for the next five months, was in many ways the best the battalion has had in its wanderings. It was situated on a well-drained, sandy river flat of sufficient area to accommodate the whole battalion. This was a great advantage as, except for the brief periods spent in Papakura, Avondale and Samambula Camps, the battalion had not been together before in the one area. The Ouenghi, a sizeable stream, provided each company with a bathing pool, and on its banks were enough trees, the ever-present niaouli and the Australian sheoak, to give cover for tents and camp buildings. On the seaward side M. Peyrolle's broad fields gave an outlook to the camp and allowed the welcome sea-breezes in. The only real disadvantage, as we very soon discovered, was the myriads of mosquitoes, but as they were common to most parts of New Caledonia it was a case of grin and bear it.

The advanced party put in eight days strenuous work, laying out company areas, erecting tents and constructing such camp facilities as cookhouses, stores and latrines. Large quantities of niaouli saplings and bark were collected, and soon there began to appear in the various areas buildings of the Fijian bure type, except that the thatching was done with niaouli bark. Necal will probably always be to us the land of the niaouli. For the next five months we were never away from it. We made buildings of it; we used it for thatching; we burned it in our fires; and we burned the bark and green leaves in our tents to help suppress the mosquito menace; we trained in forests of it; it provided our jungle ranges; in short, what the pine was to Norfolk, the niaouli was to New Caledonia, only a hundred times more so. In addition to camp preparation, the officers of the advanced party found time to reconnoitre that part of the brigade area which the battalion was to defend, and to make themselves familiar with the guard duties at Tontouta, Oua Tom, Thio and La Foa. So, by the time the main body arrived on 7 April, not only was the camp ready for occupation, but the battalion's role was known, guard duties could be taken over and training commenced with the least possible delay.

New Caledonia marked a new phase in the battalion's history. For the first time supplies were plentiful. The advanced party was almost deluged with equipment of all kinds. New Zealand-assembled 'quads' which were soon to give evidence of an excellent cross-country performance; oil-burning stoves that gladdened the hearts of the cooks and mess orderlies; and a host of articles of camp equipment were made available. The rations, too, were abundant, though, being mainly American B ration, they caused the cooks and quartermasters a few headaches at first. We had been on them in the last days in Fiji, but from now on they were to be our staple diet, varied occasionally with fresh food from New Zealand, and later with the unforgettable C and K rations. Ammunition also was in excellent supply and the broad areas of Necal provided ample space for range shooting, jungle shooting and battle practices.

There seemed no doubt that a change was taking place—a change from the defensive to the offensive. We were to be equipped to

the last detail and trained ready for offensive action some time in the not too distant future, we hoped. After the arrival of the rear party from Norfolk early in April, the battalion commenced training in earnest and, except for periodic guard duties and some necessary camp improvements, training was the keynote of our stay in Necal. It must not be imagined that life at Ouenghi was all work and no play—far from it. There were excellent playing areas, and in spite of the heat, football and kindred sports flourished. Swimming was ever popular. Here, too, it was that we saw a movie for the first time in six months, and no time was lost by new arrivals in paying a visit to the movies at the negro camp 'up the road'. Neither will we easily forget the times we came back to the camp, pictureless, because the machine had broken down or the schedule had been unexpectedly altered. Another activity indulged in by its devotees was deer-stalking and pig-hunting, and often a piece of venison or pork would find its way to a company cook-house.

One incident of importance occurred toward the end of the first month in the new camp. Torrential rainfall was experienced on the afternoon of 27 April, and the river rose rapidly. By midnight the floodwaters were within a foot or two of the banks. Accordingly orders were issued to pack all equipment in preparation for an emergency move out of camp. During the early hours of the following morning the waters still rose and in some places broke over the banks. However, by 4.30 am the flood had reached its peak, and by daylight the rain had ceased, the waters had begun to subside and the danger period was over. The advisability of our remaining in an area subject to sudden flooding was discussed, but fortunately it was decided to remain.

Mention of training in Necal will probably always call to mind three exercises in particular—Ring Contour or Mé-pin, Dent de St. Vincent and the 'Bula' exercise. These exercises were carried out in the various types of New Caledonia country which gave scope for all kinds of manoeuvre. They were very strenuous, especially in the tropical heat, but the battalion acquitted itself very well and really enjoyed the feats of endurance; especially in retrospect.

The Ring Contour exercise, which took place early in May, was a one-day affair involving a battalion attack across undulating but rough niaouli-clad foothills to the enemy-held features of Sugarloaf,

New Caledonia landscape, Mount Dent de St. Vincent from Peyrolles RidgeNew CaledoniaThe largest island in the Pacific, apart from New Guinea. New Caledonia is a French colony. For 40 years at the end of last century, it was a convict settlement rivalling Devil's Island. There are 30,000 native Melanesians who in 1878 made a formidable rebellion against French rule, 8,000 indentured Javanese and Tonkiness labourers, and 17,000 French, the majority born in New Caledonia. The mineral wealth of the island is enormous. Compared with most Pacific islands, New Caledonia appears very bare, with its steep mountain ranges and drab niaouli flats. The climate is quite pleasant and dry. Nouméa with its population of 11,000 has a magnificent land-locked harbour

Ouenghi River, Now Caledonia, and the swimming pool

Nouméa township and harbour, New CaledoniaPinnacle Peak and, finally, Ring Contour. The battalion had moved north to Mé-Pin area at 1600 hours on the day preceding the exercise, and bivouacked for the night. At 0730 hours the following morning the brigade commander issued his orders and the 'battle' was on. The forward troops moved well through the thick niaouli; maintaining communication was not an easy task where there was little or no visibility. Then they deployed when 'enemy' opposition was encountered. At this stage the 3-inch mortars came into action with high explosive and smoke bombs, which gave a strong touch of realism to the exercise and provided a certain amount of battle inoculation for the troops participating. The man-handling of the supporting weapons across country and the splendid work done in maintaining the ammunition supply were a feature of this exercise. Here, too, the 'quads' came into their own. The way the drivers manoeuvred them over what seemed impassable obstacles was a credit to them.

Probably no member of A company will forget toiling up Pinnacle Peak, nor B company scaling the slippery and almost vertical sides of Sugarloaf. Nor will C company forget the mortar bombs which landed uncomfortably close to them as they commenced to move through to Ring Contour. By mid-afternoon the final objective was taken and consolidation commenced. At 1630 hours the exercise ended and the battalion retired to Oua Tom for a hot meal before returning to the Ouenghi.

The trek over Mount Dent de St. Vincent was first and last a feat of endurance. It involved climbing the high peak, Dent de St. Vincent, then moving across barren, rugged, high country to Mount Tonta and then down to the Tontouta River, where the exercise was to conclude with a river crossing.

On the afternoon of 17 May the battalion moved up the Ouenghi Valley preparatory to commencing the climb at daybreak the following morning. Every man carried five days' rations as well as his normal equipment. In addition, medium machine guns, mortars and ammunition, as well as battalion reserve ammunition and a reserve of water in two-gallon cans were to be man-handled over the difficult country ahead, and carrying details had been organised to this end. Dent de St. Vincent, a peak of some 5000 feet, rises almost sheer from the flat coastal land at Ouenghi. To the soldier carrying normal equipment it is a tough climb, but to the battalion, moving with heavy equipment and additional supplies, it was a terrific feat of endurance.

At 0530 on 18 May the head of the column passed the starting line, and throughout that day the column toiled up through the loose gravel, stunted niaouli and mountain scrub of the lower slopes of the feature. There was no shelter from the intense rays of the sun, and the grade was extremely steep. By mid-afternoon the first day's march was completed and the battalion bivouacked for the night on the open, razor-backed ridge immediately beneath the main peak. It was unbelievably cold, considering that we were in the tropics and at no great altitude. Every available clump of fern and stunted scrub was utilised for shelter, and the brews of New Zealand 'billy' tea helped to keep out the cold. The first and perhaps the most difficult part of the climb was over. Next morning the trail led upwards again, but this time through thick bush country, known in New Caledonia as cloud-forest. We were grateful for the cool shade, but the going was still very difficult. Rocky out-crops of from twenty to thirty feet high had to be scaled; the trail was nowhere smooth and always steep. We were ascending rapidly, though of necessity with frequent halts, to the summit. By 1030 hours the battalion had passed over the Dent and was moving eastward along the bush-clad ridge toward Mount Tonta where it was expected the 'enemy' would be contacted. That night was spent in the bush.

Next morning reconnaissance patrols located the 'enemy', and at mid-day the battalion advanced against his positions, maintaining contact with him as he retired from high, open country down to the Tontouta Valley. The advance continued throughout the night over extremely rough, broken country, and culminated, in the early hours of the morning, in an attack on the 'enemy' at the junction of the Tontouta River and one of its tributaries. The exercise finished shortly before daylight. After breakfast the battalion carried out the river-crossing exercise, using assault boats and a vehicle ferry manned by New Zealand engineers, and then moved on down the valley to the vehicles which took us back to camp. And so finished the most gruelling and difficult exercise ever carried out by the battalion. It it doubtful if we will ever think of New Caledonia without recalling vivid memories of the Dent de St. Vincent.

At this stage the battalion changed to a new establishment. It had become increasingly clear that for 'jungle' troops—and everything pointed to our becoming such—the battalion had too many heavy weapons. The Dent exercise—although the performance of the battalion and of the support company, in particular, in man-handling the weapons and supplies across such difficult country and in such good time was an excellent one—only went to show the short-comings of the old establishment for jungle warfare. So when, at the end of May, the change-over from the old to the new establishment took place, although it meant the breaking up of old friendships in many cases, it did not come as a complete surprise, or, rather as an altogether unwelcome change. One platoon of machine gunners went to the new brigade machine gun company; the remainder were distributed throughout the battalion, while the mortar platoon joined headquarters company. The old D (support) company vanished, and a new D rifle company was formed by taking one platoon from each of the other three rifle companies. The new D company quickly settled down to its new existence.

The 'Bula' exercise was carried out early in June. It was a brigade manoeuvre, and the ground covered during the five days it lasted stretched from Bouloupari to Moindou, a distance of some fifty or sixty miles, along the Route Colonaile, Necal's main highway. Unfortunately the few days prior to the exercise had seen very heavy rain, and with intermittent rain during actual operations the going was difficult, especially on subsidiary roads and across country. As a result conditions were very unpleasant, and the most enjoyable part of the exercise was the return to the Ouenghi camp at the end of it.

One of the outstanding features of the exercise was the splendid work done by the drivers. On the Ouameni—La Foa Road, in particular, the trucks were brought up through the mud with the greatest difficulty, and in places progress was maintained only by using winches. However, at night they came forward unfailingly with the cooks and the hot meal that brought cheer to the hungry, cold, wet and mud-bedraggled campaigners. Other memories are the swamp that was not on the map, the 'strafing' by fighter planes on the Saddle, the difficulties encountered in fording the Moindou River and the final assault on Red Farm near Moindou.

In June Lieutenant-Colonel Barry relinquished command of the battalion on medical grounds and Major Pringle took over the reins until a successor could be appointed. Colonel Barry was farewelled at a function held in the officers' mess on 21 June which was attended by the battalion's officers, past and present, and the next day the battalion paraded and marched past as a mark of respect and farewell to the departing CO. A month later Lieutenant-Colonel McK. Muirson, MC, arrived to take over. In the interim the battalion had taken part in a ceremonial parade on Dubois Field, near Ouenghi, when the Minister of Defence, the Hon. F. Jones, and the GOC, Major-General H. E. Barrowclough, CB, DSO, MC, inspected the troops.

Two days prior to this parade the battalion had received a large draft of reinforcements from the recently disbanded Ruahine Battalion. There were 89 NCO's and men in this one draft, and this number was gradually increased up to the time when we left New Caledonia, till it was well over the hundred mark. The battalion was the richer for this addition to its strength, the newcomers proving fine soldiers and quickly settling down to take a full part in the life and activities of the battalion.

By the end of July everything seemed to point to a move in the near future. Four months of intensive training had been completed, supplies of equipment had been coming forward in splendid style, so that the battalion had practically everything it needed for active operations. And then came the 'rest cure'. On 4 August the battalion, less a small rear party, moved to Thio on the opposite coast for a complete rest. For the next five days army routine and restrictions scarcely existed. We were free to enjoy what facilities Thio had to offer or simply to do nothing. During the day there was transport to take those who so desired down to the beach or up to the nickel mines—though many preferred to travel to the latter place by the quaint nickel train that connected the mine to Mission Bay. At night there were pictures. The screen was slung between two coconut palms, and the surroundings of this open-air theatre were more exotic and much more like the tropical scenery of 'romance' than were the niaouli-covered hills and plains around Ouenghi.

Here for the first time in Necal we found fruit in abundance, and very welcome it was. There was a 'pub', too, of sorts, where one could have a 'dollar' meal or sample the wines and spirits at exorbitant prices. Thio itself was a typical French-colonial village with its shuttered houses, its mairie and its gendarmerie and its strange collection of races made up of French, Tonkinese, Javanese and Kanakas. Our stay drew to a close all too soon, and it was with mixed feelings of pleasure and regret that we left our holiday camp.

The battalion returned from Thio refreshed and ready for the move they now knew was coming. Norfolk had revived the tan gained in Fiji, New Caledonia had deepened it, and Thio had put the finishing touches. The Australian journalist who, at this time, reported that the New Zealanders in Necal were 'lean, bronzed and hard' was probably not far from the truth, although it tickled our fancy at the time.

Now it remained only to make preparations for the move. Equipment was finally checked and made complete to the last detail. Our web equipment was camouflaged. Crates were marked, and loading and vehicle schedules prepared. During this period, too, and the few preceding weeks we had become malaria-conscious. We had listened to a series of lectures on the various aspects of malaria and the anopheles mosquito which carried it. We had learned what precautions we must take in order to avoid contracting the disease, and we now had specially trained squads of men in our own units whose particular task in the forward area was to fight the causes of malaria, and so help to reduce its incidence.

It was during this last month in New Caledonia that we became part of a combat team. This was the final stage in our preparation for the move north and the amphibious training we would undergo on the way. A battalion, with field and antitank artillery, engineers and other arms under command, was considered the ideal fighting unit for the type of warfare waged in the scattered Pacific islands. Its size was such that a medium-sized transport could accommodate it with all its equipment and supplies. It had its own support weapons and its own system of supply. In short it was a self-contained, independent combat team, which could be detached from the brigade and used for a separate task, although at the same time its organisation permitted it to work as part of a larger organisation. From now until we reached our forward base we were to move and undergo training as one of these teams. After that—well, it depended on what operations lay ahead of us.

Observers had been to Nouméa where the 14th Brigade was embarking and had studied the method of loading transports for amphibious operations. The principle that first things off must go on last, had to be applied to a complex combat team with an even more complex lot of weapons, equipment and supplies. It had to be applied to men as well as to equipment. And this was only the beginning. For landing operations the combat team had to be sub-divided into tactical groups which would leave the ship and hit the shore in succeeding waves. Each wave must have with it the necessary supporting arms and equipment. And since each assault boat, whether for personnel or for vehicles, had a definite capacity and a definite position on the ship, it is obvious that every detail of the landing and unloading operations had to be clearly understood before loading could begin.

On the return of the observers from Nouméa the final organisation of the 36th Battalion combat team took place, in readiness for the move north. All surplus kits were despatched to the base kit store. Crates and equipment of all kinds were allotted priorities for loading and unloading, and marked accordingly. Vehicle and equipment dumps were established near Nouméa, and here the stores of the various units comprising the team were received and arranged in their correct priorities for loading.

Meanwhile the advanced party, under Captain H. W. Williams, had already left for the forward area to prepare for the arrival of the battalion. Loading parties for both ship and shore tasks and personnel appointed to administrative positions on the transport left to commence their duties. Finally, on 2 September, the battalion left Ouenghi and during the afternoon of the same day embarked on the President Jackson at Nouméa. The 29th and 34th Battalions and their respective combat teams embarked at the same time on two sister ships. Another stage in the history of the battalion had been passed. Keyed up by the prospect of novel and interesting training and of action at the end of it, we welcomed what lay ahead of us.

Chapter SixNew Hebrides and Guadalcanal

Our American transport was a friendly ship, as becomes one with her proud record. She had carried US Marines for the initial assaults on Guadalcanal and Rendova in the Solomons. Her record appealed to us and brought back pleasant memories of that other US transport, which had taken us back to New Zealand from Fiji. But conditions on the ship were at times very trying, and it is still an unsettled issue whether the friendliness of the crew, the showers and the good food, the iced water and the pictures, made up for the almost intolerable conditions in the troop quarters. Accommodation was crowded and ventilation limited. The heat was overpowering. Few will forget the long periods of waiting immediately prior to boat drill or disembarkation practices. However, in spite of all the discomfort, the troop quarters were kept in excellent condition and all training was entered into with enthusiasm. The performance of the battalion while on board, in fact, created something of a record which was well in keeping with the tradition of the ship.

We pulled out from Nouméa on 4 September. The previous day had been spent in becoming accustomed to the ship and her rules, in practising boat drill and in arranging for cleaning fatigues, inspections and similar details of life on a troop-ship. On 5 September, our first day at sea, we commenced taking atebrine, for we were headed for a malaria zone. At 0800 hours next morning we entered Vila Harbour in the New Hebrides. No time was lost in going on with our training. The balance of the morning was spent in practising and making perfect the preliminary procedure for disembarkation and unloading. In the afternoon we had our first practice from ship to shore.

At 1300 hours the signal was given and the men of the first wave, wearing full equipment, dashed up to their boats, climbed aboard and were lowered to the water, then, under control of the naval personnel, set off for their first landing. Just half an hour after leaving the ship the assault boats hit the beach. Ramps were dropped and the first wave, nearly two companies strong, dashed ashore. Successive waves followed rapidly at regular intervals until all personnel, except those who had remained on board in charge of vehicles or for unloading duties, were ashore. That was sufficient practice for the first day. Everyone now understood which boat, which boat division and which wave he was in. By 1630 hours everyone was once more on board.

On each of the next two days landing operations were carried out on Mélé Beach. They were both tactical schemes and involved landing as a combat team and establishing a beach-head, and both were training in preparation for a brigade scheme. This was to be put into operation the following day when the ships would be unloaded, a full brigade supply system set up and a strong beach-head developed.

The brigade exercise was very successful. The initial landing hampered by 'enemy' aircraft, was well carried out and succeeding waves came ashore with clockwork precision, and moved to their positions. Communications were set up, supply dumps established, and ship and shore unloading parties worked so well that the whole operation was carried out in record time. That night was spent on shore as the exercise did not end till 5 am. This was the first occasion that we had to take full anti-malarial precautions, not an easy task on a wet night on manoeuvres, and we believe that it was here that our first malarial casualties contracted the disease. Reloading commenced at 0700 hours and by mid-afternoon all equipment and troops were once more aboard. The next day was spent in cleaning clothes and personal equipment and resting.

At daybreak on 12 September the convoy left Vila for Guadalcanal in the Solomons. This part of our journey took just over two days. It became increasingly hot, and the trip was rather monotonous as we were now crossing the open stretch of sea between the New Hebrides and the Solomons. Preparations were made for the landing in Guadalcanal. This was to be a 'commercial' landing, and not tactical, our aim being to clear the ship in the shortest possible time.

Our transport anchored off Point Cruz on the north-eastern coast of Guadalcanal at 1100 hours on 14 September, and almost before the ship had ceased moving the first boats were on their way to the beach. Six hours and ten minutes later the unloading was completed—a record performance.

That first day on Guadalcanal was an unforgettable one. As we landed we saw a derelict Japanese tank partly buried in the black sand of the beach. Higher up on the beach rusted barbed-wire and, behind that, shrapnel-scarred coconut palms told of the fighting that had taken place there. The place was redolent of war. The beach itself that morning was a scene of intense activity and apparent confusion. As each landing craft hit the beach, a swarm of men would attach themselves to it, and the human chain passed the stores up the beach where other parties seized them and conveyed them to their correct dumps. The great piles of rations, ammunition and the mixed dumps of unit equipment and stores did not suggest order to a layman's eyes, but there was order there, and if an occasional crate went to the wrong pile—well, it could be sorted out later; the main task was to get the ship cleared. Just in rear of the dumps, YMCA workers served out tea to never-diminishing queues of thirsty troops. In this part of the beach area companies had their temporary headquarters, where personal equipment could be left and from where advance parties departed with guides for the camp area.

To those who first went to the camp the four miles, in the dust and heat of Guadalcanal and weighed down with full equipment, seemed more like 14 miles. They were glad to reach their new home, even though at first sight it was not very prepossessing. The company areas had been located in deep gullies in the midst of vinetangled mahogany jungle. Only the shade was welcome. For the rest, obviously hard work was needed to make the areas habitable. Clearing commenced immediately and areas were laid out. By nightfall enough tents had arrived and been erected to house essential stores. Bed cots were set up in the open, and temporary frames of saplings made to hold the mosquito nets. Those who had been left at the beach to guard the stores bivouacked in a like manner. The evening meal was of K ration, washed down with hot tea. And so to bed.

But before the night was quite over we experienced our first air raid. The sirens woke us at 5 am and there was a scramble for tin hats and shelter. It was a single Jap bomber over Lunga Point and well away from us, but we heard the explosion of the bombs and the noise of the heavy ack-ack guns in action. We felt that at last we were getting nearer to the scene of active operations.

We spent a few days in establishing our camp, and then commenced our life at Guadalcanal in earnest. It consisted almost entirely of stevedoring and training. The stevedoring commenced immediately and lasted till near the end of our stay, over a month later. If we did not know it before, we certainly learnt then what enormous quantities of supplies were needed to keep troops in the field. And we learnt it under the worst possible conditions—that is, climatically speaking. The occasional air raids certainly added interest to the work, especially if the ship you were working on suddenly sheered off from the shore without giving you time to get off, or if you were working in the bomb or ammunition dumps. This latter was especially intriguing at night when the imagination somehow had a freer rein.

But it was the heat that was most trying. After New Caledonia Guadalcanal was humid and enervating. It was either hot, humid and dusty, or hot, humid and muddy. There was no happy medium. Nor did the heat lessen much with the night, especially as we were then fully clothed for protection against the anopheline mosquito. However, the work was very necessary to our existence and it was made interesting by the warlike activity all round us. Still we were very glad when we finally 'signed off' in order to get ready for our own active operation. As a training ground the part of Guadalcanal where we were was excellent. It provided us with all types of country for exercises, all within easy—or perhaps it would be more accurate to say short—distance of camp. No one would call the march up Mount Austin easy. It was a very steep climb, for nearly two thirds of the way exposed to the glare of the sun, and through bush for the last and steepest bit.

Mount Austin, with its Gifu strong-point, Hospital Valley and its many deep ravines each full of the marks of war, had lots of lessons for us. We saw all kinds of Japanese and American trenches and bunkers. We saw the road that the marines had built for their tanks which finally led to the capture of the feature. Later we cooperated with tanks from our own squadron in this same area in some very valuable and instructive training. The many gruesome reminders of the bloody fighting that had taken place in the area gave emphasis and added seriousness to our training. It was probably in some such country as this that we would be fighting in the near future.

In the thick bush behind Mount Austin we practised patrol work and movement by compass; we dug in on platoon and company perimeters; we defended our strong-points or attacked others; we grew more familiar with C and K rations and we learned again how important water was in the jungle; we stayed out for nights and accustomed ourselves to the jungle noises. In fact we carried out every kind of training that might be of use to us later on. From the top of the Gifu strong-point we had a splendid view of the north-eastern coast of Guadalcanal. Immediately below us were the upper reaches of the Matanikau River near the mouth of which we had landed, and where, earlier, the US Marines had fought some of their bloodiest battles. The Matanikau was another area we used for training. In the gullies on its left bank we had our jungle ranges, and there we carried out our battle practices with ball ammunition and high explosives. Further to the east along the coast we could see the remains of Japanese ships just south of Cape Esperance, where thousands of Japs had perished in a vain endeavour to relieve their hard-pressed garrison. Some miles away we could see the island of Savo, near where the Jap convoy had been engaged and destroyed. To the south, beyond the Lunga River, lay Henderson Field in the centre of the flat coastal area that had once been coconut plantations and where many of the palms still stood. About 20 miles out to sea were Florida Island and Tulagi. We were to know Florida better before we moved north.

The routine of training and working on Guadalcanal was varied in a number of ways. For instance, water was not plentiful. There was no convenient stream as at Ouenghi, so the battalion was allotted times at the washing place and the showers that the 23rd Field Company Engineers had constructed a mile away. At least twice a week each company made the trek, returning after an hour or two with haversacks full of clean clothes, and with bodies clean at least under the new layer of sweat and dust collected on the march back to camp.

Air raids, too, provided a diversion. Round about the middle of each month, when the moon provided sufficient light, the Jap bombers came over. It was said that that time of the month was chosen because Tojo's son had been shot down there on the thirteenth of the month during a large raid earlier in the year, and that these were raids of vengeance. Whatever the reason for them, they certainly broke the monotony. Memorable was the occasion when two bombers were caught in the searchlights and shot down by a venturesome American night-fighter who, regardless of the bursting ack-ack shells around him, dashed in and downed them both within a few seconds. The tracer from the fighter plane and the blazing Jap planes as they crashed made a brilliant spectacle.

Other interludes were provided by frequent picture shows at the 'Regent Theatre', the 'Plaza' and other nearby screens. Then there were visits from Major Tripp and Captain Williams of the Fijian commandos and Lieutenant-Colonel Whitcombe of the US Army, who described the Solomons operations to us, and showed us samples of enemy weapons and foods, giving us their impressions of Japanese jungle tactics. We found these visits most instructive and useful. At this time we received numerous reports of the doings of the 14th Brigade on Vella Lavella, where they were engaging the Japs. Visits were paid to the casualty-clearing station to visit our friends among the first casualties in that action. The New Zealand general election also took place while we were on Guadalcanal. Captain R. S. Lawrence was chief electoral officer, and he carried out his duties efficiently and expeditiously. On 19 and 20 September every member of the battalion passed through our jungle polling-booth and duly recorded his vote.

On 12 October all training suddenly ceased and packing commenced. Crates were made, repaired or altered to suit the next move. Load tables were prepared and the plans made for an amphibious exercise. It was to be the most important we had ever carried out. It was a rehearsal of a landing on hostile territory which was to be our actual task in the near future. We did not know where our actual operation would be, but we knew that the forthcoming rehearsal was to be made as like it as possible. We were to use the same type of transports and landing craft as we would use later, and the piece of coast chosen for the landing, an area on Florida Island, approximately as nearly as possible to the bit of enemy-held coast we were to hit later. By this time we had received our New Zealand pattern jungle suits and our face paint, all that was necessary to make us fully equipped.

At 6 am on 14 October the battalion, less A company, moved out of camp for the seven-mile march to Kokumbona Beach where our stores had been dumped the previous day. Because of a shortage of vessels A company was to carry out the exercise when the rest of the battalion returned a couple of days later. At 0930 hours we commenced loading the LCIs (landing craft, infantry) and APDs (army personnel destroyer), and two hours later we set off for Florida which we reached at 1300 hours. We had been given our tasks and we knew which wave we were in and just when we should hit the beach.

The battalion, with the 29th Battalion on its right, was to land in three waves. The first wave came ashore from the APDs in LCPs (landing craft, personnel), fast, small craft, each holding about one platoon of men. As soon as the beach was clear of men and boats, the LCIs grounded on the shore, the ramps were run out and the second wave went ashore. Meanwhile the LCPs had been back at their respective ships filling up with men, and by the time the LCIs were clear they were back with the third wave. No supplies were unloaded that day. The exercise was discussed, faults corrected and preparations made for the main exercise on the morrow.

At first light next morning the convoy travelled north to the place where the tactical exercise proper was to be carried out. Zero hour was 8 o'clock in the morning and the first wave hit the beach in fine style. Succeeding waves landed in order, and all except unloading parties moved inland to establish the perimeter and secure the beach-head. The stores were duly unloaded on to the beach and then transferred to a safe distance inland where dumps had been reconnoitred. At 1130 hours the 'war' was over and reloading commenced. By 1245 hours the convoy was on its way back to Guadalcanal. There was a moderate surf at Kokumbona and the unloading was not without incident and a few duckings. Our vehicles met us at the beach and by means of a shuttle service got us back to camp shortly after dark.

In the remaining time on Guadalcanal, a period of a little over a week, there was an air of expectancy in the battalion. We knew that we were going into action within a matter of days, and that we were to make a landing on enemy-held territory, but we did not know for certain where it was to be. There were many guesses as to our destination, some wild, others remarkably accurate. Maps of the Northern Solomons were in great demand, and they were eagerly scanned for a likely objective for the battalion. That it was to be the Treasury group was probably the popular choice, as, apart from Choiseul, it was part of the Solomons nearest to the islands the Allies already held, and what made this idea more convincing, Mono Island, with Stirling Island just off-shore, was almost exactly like our practice area on Florida Island.

During this period Lieutenant-General Vandegrift sent a stirring message to all troops in the First Marine Amphibious Corps, to which we were now attached, and at the same time Brigadier Row in a message to the units under his command told us as much as he could about our forthcoming operation, including the welcome information that the RNZAF would be assisting in giving us air cover, along with American planes, and that American warships would cover our landing. Conferences were now the order of the day. Preliminary plans were made, maps and aerial photographs studied and personnel allotted to the various echelons. The bulk of the battalion, with their war equipment and most essential supplies, was to move in the first echelon which would effect the landing.

The plan, as it affected the battalion, was a simple one. We were to land on a strip of beach between the Saveke River and Cutler's Creek, just west of the village of Falamai on Mono Island. The three forward companies, A, B, and D, would push forward to the final perimeter, deal with any opposition encountered, ensure contact with the coast by the Saveke River and with the 29th Battalion on the right flank, and then consolidate. C company and the carrier platoon were to unload the stores from the landing craft and establish dumps inside the perimeter. The MT personnel and other details of Headquarters company, who would arrive later in the day on LSTs with the vehicles and heavy equipment, were to relieve the carrier platoon which would then become available for patrol work. From information received it seemed obvious that A company was likely to run into most trouble. The Japanese headquarters was situated near the coast on the right bank of the Saveke River and they also had an OP on a high feature several hundred yards inland from their headquarters. Accordingly one platoon from C company was attached to A company together with a section of mortars. Another section of mortars was attached to B company, in the central position, the remaining section being held in reserve with battalion headquarters. Up to the last minute, as information came to hand, minor adjustments to the plans were made, but with no essential difference to the general scheme.

At daybreak on Monday, 25 October, C and D companies set off in the pouring rain and over roads clogged with mud for Kukum Beach to embark on the LCIs. Fortunately the weather cleared and they were able to go aboard dry. The equipment and stores which had been sent to the beach the previous day were loaded on board. A final practice at disembarking and unloading was held while the vessels were still at Kukum. Then in the evening they pulled out from the shore ready to leave in the early hours of next morning, together with the LSTs. A and B companies went aboard the APDs on the Tuesday morning. They left Kukum for the Treasuries at 1330 hours, the greater speed of the destroyers enabling them to overtake the slower vessels ahead. The battalion's first echelon, six hundred all ranks, was now all shipborne and heading for Mono Island and its first real taste of war.

Chapter SevenThe Treasuries

The Treasury Islands are only 300 miles from the 'Canal' and we made the voyage in perfect weather. This was very fortunate as the ships were packed with men and any sort of a swell would have made conditions very unpleasant. The American sailors did all they could to make us as comfortable as possible. We passed the Russell Islands, Rendova, New Georgia and dozens of smaller islands. It was an uneventful day, and the only planes sighted were our own. During the daylight hours maps and aerial photographs of our objective were made available to all ranks, together with every bit of information that was known regarding enemy strength and dispositions. Plans were gone over again and every detail checked until every man was sure not only what his particular job was, but how everyone else fitted into the general plan. By nightfall everything that could be done to make the landing successful had been done. We could only wait for whatever the morning might bring forth.

At 0500 hours on the morning of Wednesday, 27 October, the convoy was off the west end of Stirling Island. The naval bombardment was scheduled to commence at first light and zero hour was to be 0606 hours. For some reason, probably owing to bad visibility occasioned by heavy mists that hung over Mono Island and Blanche Harbour that morning, all times were delayed twenty minutes. Zero was now 0626 hours. As the dawn broke we could see in front of us the steep, rugged, jungle-clad slopes of Mono Island, wreathed in mist and looking very sombre and forbidding in the early morning light. Slightly to the right and nearer lay Stirling Island with vegetation of a lighter shade on its low, flat surface.

Preparing for a field day in New Caledonia, where training was hard and the country rough

Crossing a river on an improvised bridge. This sort of exercise was all part of the battalion's excellent training

Landing supplies from small craft at Lunga beach, Guadalcana

At 0545 hours the peacefulness of the scene was broken as the five-inch guns of the destroyers opened up and simultaneously the small landing craft pulled away from the APDs and dashed toward the entrance to the harbour. The first wave was on its way to the beach. As they raced up Blanche Harbour the LCPs were protected by gunboats which kept between them and the shore, all the time pouring a hail of fire into known enemy positions. Some small arms fire reached the LCPs but did not cause any casualties.

The naval gunfire lifted as the landing craft neared Falamai and, at a given signal, the line of small craft turned and sped toward the shore, hitting the beach as planned at exactly 26 minutes past six. It was during this last phase that the LCPs came under fire from enemy positions at Falamai, and a number of casualties were suffered. No opposition was encountered as the men of A and B companies raced over the lowered ramps and across the narrow beach to the thick cover that came down almost to the water's edge. Once there they formed up and moved inland, securing that part of the coast for the landing of the next wave.

The second wave, aboard the LCIs, had entered the harbour in the wake of the LCPs. Their speed was timed to make them reach the shore at 0646 hours. One of the immediate tasks of the first wave was to plant beach signs to indicate to the commanders of the LCIs the exact points to which they were to bring their ships, so that the second wave troops would land in the secured area.

At 0646 hours precisely the LCIs grounded on the rough pebbles and coral just east of the Saveke, twin ramps were run out and the remaining two rifle companies and battalion headquarters rushed ashore. D company immediately moved to the right flank and filled the gap between B company and the 29th Battalion, and the unloading parties, without a moment's delay, commenced their task. In less than 20 minutes the ships had been unloaded and had pulled out from the shore, leaving the beach clear for the LCPs which were again approaching the shore, this time with the remaining personnel and all equipment from the APDs. The movement of the three forward companies through the thick vegetation was very slow. Contact was difficult and A company had been momentarily disorganised by fire from the gunboat on to the mouth of the Saveke and the area just west, from which Japanese small arms fire had been coming.

While A company re-established contact and reformed for an attack on the enemy headquarters, Lieutenant T. G. Holmes opened fire with his 3-inch mortars and put down such a heavy and accurate concentration that it completely disorganised the enemy. Then in an encircling movement Captain K. E. Louden personally led his company across the Saveke and captured Japanese headquarters, driving the enemy on to the hill. In their haste to get away the Japanese had abandoned a large quantity of clothing, food and medical supplies and much documentary data of considerable interest. By midmorning the intermediate perimeter was established about 250 yards from the shore and extending from Cutler's Creek on the right flank and circling down to the shore west of the Saveke on the left, taking in the Japanese headquarters area.

Meanwhile on the beach the unloading had been proceeding, but not without its difficulties. From 7 am onwards the beach had come under fire from Japanese mortars and mountain-guns. They had the range to the beach well-gauged and their accurate fire caused some casualties. The LSTs which had arrived at about 7.30 am and were unloading the heavy equipment and vehicles on to the beach at Falamai, became one of their main targets, and our unloading party suffered a number of casualties. Other casualties, including Major J. F. Britland, who was mortally wounded, were inflicted by a party of a dozen Japs in a pill-box near the ships. The prompt action of a bulldozer driver put an end to their interference. He raised the broad steel blade in the front of his machine and, using it as a shield against the enemy's fire, drove forward and crushed the pill-box and its occupants. At just about this time also a single Jap plane managed to evade the RNZAF and US aerial cover, and he strafed and bombed the LSTs, luckily doing no damage. He certainly had not time to be very accurate, as he had a couple of Lightnings on his tail, and they downed him over the sea a few miles east of Falamai.

The highest credit goes to C company and headquarters company for the excellent job they did under the most difficult circumstances. Because of the rugged nature of the country and the almost complete lack of visibility from near the shore, it was not till about 10 o'clock that the location of the enemy's guns were narrowed down to the vicinity of the OP on the high feature to the west of the upper Saveke River. When naval gunfire failed to neutralise it, two patrols were despatched from the battalion to deal with it.

This map shows the tracks of the 36th Battalion patrols which searched Mono Island for Japanese stragglers

The carrier platoon under Captain H. W. Williams moved out through D company with the intention of turning left and crossing the Saveke behind the enemy position. Second-Lieutenant L. Booth with Number 6 platoon left from A company in the Jap headquarters area and advanced up the steep country on the right bank of the river directly toward the OP. At about 1100 hours his patrol made contact with the enemy, and after a hard fight uphill they captured two 75 mm howitzers and a 90 mm mortar, accounting for eleven Jap dead and suffering seven wounded in their own ranks. The other patrol had met with very difficult going; before it reached the river the action was over. Thanks to Second-Lieutenant Booth and his platoon the work on the shore proceeded without further interruption or casualties during the rest of the day.

In the meanwhile the battalion had been moving forward toward the final perimeter. Progress was of necessity very slow. Contact had to be maintained throughout, and the country had to be thoroughly combed to ensure the complete security of the beach' head. By 2.30 in the afternoon the front line had reached its furthest point inland, some 600 yards north of Falamai, and from there it curved round to the coast about 200 yards west of the mouth of the Saveke River. Patrols were sent forward and diffeing-in commenced. Inside the perimeter there was much activity. Battalion headquarters was established in approximately the centre of the area. The signal platoon under Lieutenant G. N. Utting, which had done a splendid job throughout the day, now established line communication with the various headquarters. The engineers had bulldozed rough roads along the foreshore to the various dumps, to the water point they had set up and to battalion headquarters. The battalion transport section did yeoman service, carting necessary supplies, equipment and water over the primitive roads, and it was not until evening that they and the beach parties came into an area near battalion headquarters to dig in for the night.

The memory of that first night on Mono will long remain with us. We had accustomed ourselves to the jungle noises by night on Guadalcanal, but the noises here seemed deafening by comparison, and to tired troops, with nerves keyed up and all senses alert to detect enemy movement, the night was never-ending. Nor did it pass without incident. In their hurry to get away from their head' quarters the Japs had left behind about ten tons of food, the main source of supply for their force. It was probably in an attempt to rectify this omission that they came into our lines during the night, causing some casualties.

There were other casualties by enemy mortar fire from an unknown location and from aerial bombing. We were visited throughout the night by enemy planes which were apparently based not many miles away, for they returned to the attack with horrible regularity at about hourly intervals. We could hear them approaching round the high land of Mono to the north; then they would cut their engines, and we could hear the soft swish of the planes through the air as they dived, followed shortly afterwards by the bursts of fire as they strafed our positions with uncanny accuracy; and then came the sibilant swish of the falling bombs and the crash and concussion from the explosions. We were grateful for the protection afforded us by our trenches. Cramped and muddy as they were, they were utterly desirable places that night. It was a relief when not on guard to stretch out in the muddy bottom of the trench and rest, perhaps even to snatch a little sleep. And so the seemingly interminable night wore on. When at last morning came it brought tremendous relief. The awful strain was lifted. We could relax, have a cigarette and, best of all, we could talk again. Never had the daylight been so welcome. It was a new and pleasant world. Even the planes overhead had changed, and what a thrill it gave us to look up through the trees and see our own planes, bearing the RNZAF roundel, cruising protectively above.

The next few days were spent in improving positions, in bringing up supplies of ammunition, food and water. The first cup of hot tea was made—a memorable brew. Patrols went forward daily and, though they found indications of the enemy's presence, there were no Japs to be seen. The area inside the perimeter was also scoured to make sure no enemy were concealed there. At night we were still visited by enemy bombers, but from the third night on, our ack-ack fire disturbed their aim, though they still inflicted some damage and casualties.

By 30 October it seemed apparent that there were few, if any, Japs left inthe vicinity. Our heavy concentrations of 3-inch mortar and 25-pounder fire which were laid down outside the entire perimeter, no doubt discouraged them. We felt that they had moved inland or around the coast to some spot from which they would attempt to be evacuated. Our task now was to prevent this from happening. In order to spare men for extensive patrolling it was necessary to have a shorter perimeter, and a reconnaissance to this end had already been made. Accordingly on 1 November the battalion withdrew to a shorter line and dug in. The second echelon also arrived that same day, and with them came a welcome mail.

Now patrolling started in earnest. The carrier platoon had already patrolled fairly extensively the coastal area toward Laifa Point and had captured without any casualties a 37 mm mountain-gun, together with a large quantity of shells, the enemy evidently fleeing at the approach of the patrol. On 2 November Captain H. W. Williams, with a small reconnaissance patrol which included two natives, went out to Laifa Point, intending to stay overnight and make a thorough search of the area for signs of enemy troops. The

Jungle giants in the Treasuriessame morning a large fighting patrol, comprising D company, an artillery forward observation officer and his party, and a line-carrying party of battalion mortar and signal personnel, left the perimeter and headed north across the island. The patrol, which was under the command of Major I. G. O'Neill, included a Solomon Island police boy, Sergeant Ilala, an experienced bushman and tracker and a fine soldier.

Because of the steep nature of the country, the dense vegetation and the weight of the heavy cable, progress was slow. However, communication was maintained with headquarters, and the numerous signs of the enemy, accurately interpreted by Sergeant Ilala, were reported to battalion. The Japs had obviously been making for the north of Mono; so the patrol pushed on toward Ulapu with the intention of catching the enemy between the Besara River and Soanatalu. Meanwhile the Laifa patrol had made contact with a small party of Japs, but without casualties to either side.

On 3 November another patrol, from B company of the 34th Battalion, which had relieved A company on the perimeter, ran into a small party of Japs in the upper Saveke area, killing one, the others escaping into the bush. In the afternoon of the following day the D company patrol which had found the going increasingly difficult reached the coast and was met near Ulapu by a barge with very necessary rations and additional cable. The next morning they set off along the coast on the last lap of the journey to Soanatalu. On crossing the Besara River Sergeant Ilala detected fresh Jap tracks leading up the right bank. A short distance inland a newly-constructed raft and paddles were found. The Japs had evidently taken cover and could not be found. After destroying the raft, the patrol followed another fresh trail, and about a quarter of a mile along the coast from the Besara, contact was made with the enemy. They had made their hide-out in a series of caves in the face of the cliff. In the ensuing action, which lasted about two hours, ten enemy were killed, and one wounded and taken prisoner. D company lost one sergeant who was kilted early in the engagement. The patrol pushed on to Soanatalu that night without further incident, and the following day returned by barge to Falamai.

During this period A company had been under command of the 34th Battalion. They had been withdrawn to Stirling Island for a spell, but they were not left long to enjoy their well-earned rest. On 2 November at very short notice, they were transported to Malsi where they were to give additional protection to the native village, a necessary precaution in view of the reported Jap movements. On 4 November A company made a through search of the country between Malsi and Soanatalu, accounting for one Jap and taking two others prisoner. Other patrols from the company were active on the coast both sides of Malsi but without further result, and finally the whole company left for Falamai on 8 November, sweeping the country as they advanced and arriving back with the battalion on the afternoon of the next day.

That same day B company left to cover the coastal area between Laifa and Ulapu. They had, a few days previously, relieved the carrier platoon patrol at Laifa, and set up a small base there. During the next three days the whole of the west coast of Mono was searched but without positive result. This marked the end of the phase of intensive patrolling. From now on we were to be mainly a garrison force. The few isolated Japs left on Mono could do very little harm, and an occasional small patrol would be sufficient to keep them on the run.

It is not possible to enumerate all the fine acts done during the action, but the battalion picture would not be complete without some reference to Padre W. Parker who, throughout the entire action and often under the worst possible conditions, always had a cup of tea and a cheery word for all comers. Nothing could deter him. Rain and mud could not dampen his spirits or extinguish his primus; enemy fire—and he was subject to plenty of that with one or two narrow escapes—did not interrupt his tea-making activities, and many a wounded soldier or weary patrol passing through headquarters has reason to remember the padre's kind services.

The battalion was now able to commence settling down. Pup-tents had been erected, cookhouses set up and a certain degree of comfort introduced. It was a treat to be able to shave off the 14 days' growth of beard, to wash and change into clean clothes and to enjoy a hot meal of B rations. The third echelon had arrived on 6 November, together with another batch of mail.

On Sunday, 7 November, a short but impressive thanksgiving service was conducted by Padre Parker and attended by all the battalion except A company who were still at Malsi. A tribute was paid to the fallen; 14 members of the battalion had made the supreme sacrifice. The battalion had suffered a large number of wounded, too; these, together with five cases of sickness, brought our total casualties at this time to 77. Four days later the fourth echelon arrived from Guadalcanal. Tents, bedcots and all equipment were now to hand, and we were ready to establish camps in areas which had already been reconnoitred and allotted to the various companies. B company were to remain on Mono Island, but they were to move to the mouth of the Avon River and establish themselves there. The rest of the battalion was to go to Stirling Island, battalion head-quarters, headquarters company and A company near Soala Lake, C company at Wilson's Point, alongside Lakemba Cove, and D company at Cummings' Point on the western end of the island.

Clearing began on the camp sites and within a few days the new camps were established. There was lots of hard work, however, before they were ship-shape. The ground was of uneven coral rock,

Unloading men and supplies: the second wave goes ashore

Under fire: charging on to the beach off an LCI, Mono Island

A panoramic view of Blanche Harbour, Treasury Islands, from the slopes of Mono. On the extreme left is the tiny peninsula of Falarmai where the battalion landed. The long strip of wooded island is Stirling, where glimpses of the airfield may be seen between the trees

An old man of Mono

A happy diversion—yachting in Blanche Harbour

The Union Jack flying over Falamai, Treasury Islands

HQ Company's diving board, Stirling Islandcovered with heavy timber. The tangled roots spread in all directions, rendering doubly difficult the task of clearing and levelling the surface. Crowbar and sledgehammer were used more than pick and shovel. But the results were worth while. The coral sand and rock made excellent flooring inside the tents. It paved our paths and cookhouses, and when the rain came—and that was almost daily— the water that did not run away was quickly absorbed by the porous coral. A young coconut palm planted here and there put the finishing touches to the final layout. The companies have good reasons to be proud of their efforts which, over a period of several months, produced really fine camps.

At the end of November Lieutenant-Colonel Muirson returned to New Zealand, and the command of the battalion was taken over by Lieutenant-Colonel Pringle, who, as second-in-command, had been with the battalion since its formation in Papakura in December 1941. Major H. F. Allen was transferred from divisional headquarters as second-in-command. At about the same time a large reinforcement draft arrived to fill the gaps in our ranks. Life once more became more or less a matter of routine with our time spent, when not on patrols or training, in improving our camps, or in unloading and handling supplies, or working on the new airstrip on Stirling Island, or on a host of other necessary tasks connected with the smooth functioning of the allied force in the Treasuries. Our anti-malarial squads scoured the areas about the camps, finding and destroying possible breeding places for mosquitoes, and oiling those places where water collected that could not be drained.

At first the principal means of transport was by barge, and each day the battalion barge crossed and re-crossed the waters of Blanche Harbour, taking rations, water and other things to the outlying companies and to the mortar detachments on Watson and Wilson Islands. Gradually the roads improved and our vehicles were able to take over a great deal of their work, only B company and the mortar platoon being entirely dependent on barge traffic.

Early in December, with Christmas less than a month away, we began to make preparations for that festival. Mess-rooms were improved and made large enough for everyone to sit down to Christmas dinner at once. Designs were prepared for souvenir menu cards which would be filled in later when the exact bill of fare was known. Even the weather had a hand in making it a pleasant Christmas. Up to 21 December we had rain almost daily; from then on until after New Year's Day, the weather, if a trifle hot, was beautiful. 'Nat. Pat.' parcels, fruit and cream—both in tins—the ingredients for Christmas puddings, cigars, and, last but not least, beer—all made their appearance. Finally, on Christmas Eve, the turkeys came. That clinched it. Christmas dinner was a great success. The day itself was a most enjoyable one, even 'Tojo' contributing to the fun by dropping a bomb at daybreak near D company's camp. Boxing Day was also observed as a holiday, nearly everyone attending the acquatic carnival at Falamai, where Americans and New Zealanders were competing in the various events.

Life soon became—well, not humdrum, but very well regulated. It was at all times interesting, watching the rapid growth and development of the strip and and the taxiways, and the many other activities in the area, but, except for an occasional patrol or a spell of training on Mono Island, we had almost ceased to be soldiers. We had become stevedores and lumberjacks and labourers in a host of jobs. True, we were still here for the defence of the islands, and the Japanese-held Shortland Islands were less than twenty miles away, but nothing ever happened. The seas around us were well patrolled. The only attacks we were subjected to were from the air. And there is no doubt that these raids, coming as they did for a period of over four months, served to break the monotony. At first they were nightly raids, just one or two planes that came over often, several times in one night. They were mainly nuisance raids and, while they kept us out of bed during the night, they did little or no damage, sometimes not even coming in close enough to drop their bombs. The anti-aircraft fire was particularly effective, and 'Tojo' had a whole' some respect for it. By Christmas the attacks had become less frequent, but with the air-strip coming into operation early in the New Year, the Japs became active again. Then the attacks were made in greater force, and in January and February the two biggest raids took place. There was some damage and a number of casualties. On these occasions the anti-aircraft barrage was a wonderful spectacle. The sky seemed full of tracer and the ground was lit up with the reflected light. The apprehension engendered by the sound of the planes overhead and the falling bombs was at times forgotten, as men left their fox-holes to view the brilliant sight.

By the end of February the period of air raids was over, and there was very little to disturb the serenity of our existence. There was some danger of our becoming stale. However steps had been taken early against such an eventuality. The companies organised concerts; race-tracks were constructed and meetings held, complete with 'totes' and horses made out of coconut or some similar material; card evenings were very popular, particularly as the cooks usually made something special for supper. Of course picture shows were more plentiful, and before long there was a movie on somewhere handy every night. Sports, too, began to make their appearance. There was very little suitable ground for games, but usually a tenni-quoit court was possible. As larger areas were cleared, basketball and baseball commenced.

There was one pastime that is worthy of special note, as it typified the New Zealander and his habit of adapting himself to his environment and making the most of the circumstances in which he found himself—the pastime of making things. It began with making his living conditions better. In his spare time he constructed tables, chairs, washing stands and improvised showers, and lots of other utilities that helped to make his tent a home. Once this was done, he began to look around for a suitable hobby. Boat-building immediately began to boom. One or two individuals had found broken native canoes and these were soon patched up and launched, but the bulk of the fleet which soon made its appearance was made entirely by the enthusiastic owners. Many and varied were the types of vessels constructed, perhaps it was only a raft of drums and coconut logs from which the owners could fish or swim, but which as a means of locomotion was an 'also-ran'. Others selected their tree, felled it and, with much painstaking effort, produced a dug-out canoe complete with outrigger. Still others undertook the more ambitious task of building sailing canoes and small yachts. This involved, apart from the tremendous amount of work, a very vigorous search for the necessary material. And what could not be acquired was improvised with so much skill that some really fine craft resulted.

Boat-building was by no means the only hobby indulged in. The Treasuries abound in fine timber. Saw-mills had been established during our first weeks here, and mahogany, teak and a number of other beautiful timbers were turned out. It was not long before useful and ornamental articles began to appear: trinket boxes carved out of solid pieces of teak, cribbage boards of teak inlaid with mahogany or rosewood, draughts boards, paper knives, picture frames and a host of other articles. Tools were at a premium and it was amazing what could be done with only a pen-knife. Some enterprising individuals constructed a lathe, and wooden bowls, candlesticks and other symmetrical objects almost entered the mass production stage. Of course knife-making was revived and with it lots of other metal work. Shell cases provided the material for paper knives, model aero-planes, ash-trays and articles too numerous to mention.

It must not be supposed that life in these islands was one long holiday. Far from it. There was always plenty of work. It seemed that no sooner had one ship finished unloading than another took its place. Unloading usually went on, night and day, until the ship was cleared. Still, there was an incentive to the work. We saw the bombs that we had unloaded being carried away on planes as they went out on a strike; we saw the machinery, petrol and supplies all put to good use. Perhaps we liked best to unload the ships that brought us fresh food. It was a pleasure to unload fresh meat, vegetables, fruit and New Zealand butter. We always knew when there was to be fresh food on the menu, and these meals were eagerly looked forward to. Not that our normal diet wasn't sustaining. It must have been, because we kept remarkably fit. We had expected a fairly large incidence of sickness, as the Solomons are notoriously unhealthy, but our food, our work and our play must have been well-balanced, because the number of our sickness casualties was very small.

Most of us had our share of heat rashes, eczema and other skin troubles, not the least irritating of which was the bite of the 'chigger' —for want of a better name— which burrowed into the skin and caused a very itchy spot which easily turned septic. But on the whole we were in good condition. Our spirits were high, too, though we continually wondered when and where our next move would be, and we felt that the sooner it came the better. We felt that we had already had our share of long spells in one place. We were ready to move at short notice. There was talk of fresh tasks for us, but none of them eventuated. In April the first of a series of events took place which ultimately sounded the death knell of the battalion. Due to increasing difficulty in maintaining production in several essential industries, the New Zealand Government decided to with-cludedwithdraw men from the Third Division to help to alleviate the manpower shortages in these industries. All those men who, prior to the war, had been employed in these industries were asked to volunteer to return to their old positions. Quite a number of men were affected by this scheme and towards the end of April the first draft of them marched out of the battalion under command of Lieutenant-Colonel Pringle.

Major Allan assumed command of the battalion and the outlying companies were brought in nearer to headquarters. B company reluctantly gave up its ideal camp site on the Avon River and came to live with A company at Soala Lake, while D company joined C company at Lakemba Cove. By now, those of us who remained realised that it would not be long before we, too, were evacuated from the area. Except for working parties very little work was done and the last few weeks in the Treasury Group passed by in comparative ease. The middle of May saw the arrival of a relieving American unit and on to May we embarked once more to return to base in New Caledonia.

This time back in New Caledonia all units of the division were centralised in the area around Bourail with the infantry at the old base training depot in Tene Valley. This was the first time in the history of the battalion that we had been so near to other units and many friendships were made or renewed. What impressed us most perhaps was the almost entire absence of mosquitoes and the extremely cold nights. Whereas we did not always use our one blanket in the Solomons we were only too pleased to crawl under three blankets and a great-coat back in New Caledonia. The general theme for life here was a rest from normal routine with trips and sport taking the place of training.

The country around Bourail was new to most of us and no time was lost in finding out the good spots. Most popular of all was Bourail Beach about seven miles from our camp. The new Kiwi Club was situated there and it was quite a treat to visit the club and have a meal prepared and served by New Zealand WAACs. From time to time we were able to send small parties to be guests of the club for a few days. Another popular trip was over the central mountain range to the opposite coast at Houailou (Walu). A small party spent several days' leave at the old Ruahine camp on the Houailou Road.

Inter-company and inter-unit rugby, hockey, cricket, soccer and basketball matches were played each week and the sports fields were seldom free. Perhaps the highlight of these inter-unit games was the rugby match against our old rivals, the 29th Battalion. We had our colours lowered again in a very close game—the only score being a penalty goal. Towards the end of June we received the news which was uppermost in our thoughts—the all important furlough. All troops were to return for leave on the basis that the longest away from home this time were to return first. Because of our stay on Norfolk Island, this ruling placed the old Norfolkians still with us in priority one for leave.

On 1 July these men departed much to the envy of those left behind. Lieutenant-Colonel Allan (recently promoted) remained in charge until he left several days later when Major I. G. O'Neill took over the reins.

Once more packing became the order of the day and all unit equipment was crated and numbered ready for despatch to New Zealand. The final leave draft left New Caledonia on 13 August 1944, after a few days' stay in Noumea, thus bringing the overseas life of the battalion to a close.

After a generous furlough in New Zealand, members of the battalion began to re-assemble in Papakura Camp until the Government brought out their new policy regarding the Third Division. The division was to be disbanded and the men were to be used to reinforce the Second Division overseas. As a result of this decision all ranks at Papakura were sent out to their various district mobilisation camps to await the day when they would proceed overseas once more. A small rear party under Lieutenant Tricklebank was sent to the Third Division Base at Mangere to return all unit equipment and officially wind up the Battalion. Thus the 36th Battalion becomes only a memory. We will be able to look back with pride on what has been accomplished and with many happy memories of the friendships we have made and the good times we have had together in the battalion.

Chapter EightInitiation to Battle

The night on board the APD is strained and quiet, with not a glimpse of light in the inky blackness. There is little room below. We sleep on deck. It is cooler here, but too crowded with men and gear. Often we wake with soldiers and sailors tripping over our legs in the darkness. We are up and about before dawn, standing in a seemingly unmoving queue, waiting for breakfast. Now it is time to clamber into our gear, and push our way to the boats.

The dawn is breaking, and shells are being pumped into the island which appears, wreathed in mist, two or three miles away, slightly to the port side. It is great to see the streaks of red, blue and white tracers as they whistle overhead, and we think of the panic they must be causing the Japs. We are in the boats now, and word is given to head for the shore. Planes appear overhead, but whether friend or foe we cannot tell. The coming brightness reveals the friendly star on the wings.

The boats move slowly. It is maddening, and the temptation to take a peep at the approaching shore is almost irresistible. Bullets begin zipping overhead, and a few splinter through our barge, snapping off a bayonet and grazing one of the boy's legs. The wound is slight, and he can carry on with us.

It is quite light now; and we can see the palms on the shore. We know our job, where we land and what we have to do. Our legs are cramped and stiff from crouching in the barge. As we loosen our life-belts, they fall off; the ramp goes down. The nose of the barge hits the shore; the sections file out in pre-arranged order, not on to a coral beach as expected, but one strewn with treacherous rocks. One or two get a ducking; we reach the shore in safety.

We have made it! In extended order we push through the for-bidding jungle, alert for snipers that may lie waiting in trees over-head or in fox-holes cunningly concealed. Nerves are taut. It is our first action. As a burst of machine-gun fire rattle out, bullets tear the undergrowth and ground about us. One of the platoon is hit. Who is it? Is he badly hurt? No time to find out; the best we can do for him is to push on and get at the enemy. Stretcher bearers are following. They will give him the best they can. We have our job to do.

A couple of hundred yards from the shore we meet up with the rest of the company and begin our encircling movement of Jap headquarters. Our platoon is in front, and somehow we follow the wrong creek for a time. An order is passed up the line. 'Come back'. 'Who sent that order?' It is a Jap trick to issue false orders, and we are not going to be caught. No reply from the rear. There is a short delay before we return, and by the time we catch up with the rest of the company they have captured the Jap headquarters. It is a mess, torn by mortar and shell, but the enemy is gone. It falls to the lot of a Taihape boy to pull down the flag of the Rising Sun. We search the fox-holes for hidden Japs and inspect the camp. It is a vile smelling place, and the most untidy disorder imaginable.

Japanese mountain guns open up from the hill above us. The fire is accurate, and our boys are catching it down on the beach where they are unloading stores and ammunition from the LSTs. The 'Boss' calls the platoon together, and we set off for the guns.

The pace is too rapid for such steep, rough going. Before we reach the objective, our own mortars begin to plaster the guns. The explosion of their bombs adds to the din and to our worries. We are in the line of fire, and are afraid that they may drop a few bombs short. With the boom of guns and the sound of bursting shells, it certainly sounds like war. From the beach below comes the crackle of small arms ammunition and louder detonations. The Japs have destroyed their own dumps. Explosions continue for a long time.

The guns are within a hundred yards now. They cease fire. As we go in we find that the enemy has fled. The guns are sizzling hot. Large piles of shell cases indicate the speed and efficiency with which the crews have worked. There is but one unfired shell. Gear and equipment is scattered about, and we are careful of booby traps, but the Japs have left in a hurry, and there are none. Our mortars have made a direct hit on one gun, and the wrappings of field dressings show that casualties have been inflicted. We try to damage the guns with grenades, but it is useless. The sights which we take away are the only moveable parts.

Anxious to catch the Japs we push on toward an enemy observation post which is known to exist higher up. We hope to find them there. The advance is slow and cautious. It is unwise to follow the tracks, so we push through the undergrowth, alert for ambush. We near the top of the hill, and sit down for a spell. The 'Boss' sends a section back to the guns in case the enemy returns.

A short reconnaissance brings the 'Boss' to the observation post. He spots the enemy. They have no sentries out, but sit talking jn the huts. What luck! The 'Boss' calls us up quietly. We open up with bren, tommy, rifle and grenades. The enemy panic, and the fight is short but sharp. Our fire is returned and grenades fall among us. We hurl ours at every presentable target. Where the Japanese grenades merely injure, ours kill.

The 'Boss' is calmly calling us forward. We drive the enemy out, as he leaves many dead. Our casualties are seven, but they are all able to walk and retire immediately. The 'Boss' moves forward to remove the barrel of an enemy mortar, which he slides away over the bank. His efforts to destroy the dump of bombs with grenades are futile. His courage and calmness throughout the day have been an inspiration to us all. Returning to our perimeter, the wounded are dressed, and as we shake their hands they head for the beach. They will be evacuated before dark. The 'Boss' makes his report and the engineers are coming to destroy the guns. The 'Boss' is going as guide, and some of us go with him. As we prepare for our first night in the hostile jungle, word comes round that the 'Boss' is to be recommended for the Military Cross. He has deserved it. We are proud of him, and settle down for our first long night.

Chapter NineIn the Foxholes

Technically speaking, the fox-hole is a shallow burrow scooped out of the earth or sand in which one may lie flat for temporary cover before one moves again. For us, the fox-hole was any hole in the ground, whether as primitive as this or the more elaborate structures roofed with ten-inch coconut logs we built later on against the air raids. For the fox-hole dominated our lives, during those days and nights in the perimeter that followed the landing. Let us not now discuss the theory of the thing. One must first describe what was. Above all the beach-head must be defended and maintained, and to extend the perimeter only meant thinning out the line for the sake of a few extra yards of jungle. The discussion on night patrols and mobile tactics is still open, but for this occasion the fox-holes were our masters.

Of course it rains. Tropical rain which runs straight through your clothes, splashing on your skin, but brings little or no refreshment. With the rain comes the mud, mud up to your ankles and, where you go down to get the water, up to your calves. Even this sun cannot penetrate through the thickness of the jungle—fortunately, perhaps—and the mud remains, trampled by the boots around the fox-holes. Tree fern fronds you have spread on the bottom for sleeping sink beneath the mud where you sleep.

If you were not wet with the rain, you would still be wet with the sweat. For the most part it is the two combined. The thick jungle uniform coated with green paint and further proofed against the air with its new coating of mud, is a very different affair from the white ducks and silk shirts of traditional tropical wear. Your clothes are continuously soaked in sweat, and when you lie down at night, huddled together in your little hole in the ground, you sweat again. Everybody knows how bad stale sweat smells, and each new day brings no improvement. The mud around the fox-holes smells of sweat and excrement and death. Even if nobody has died nearby, that smell seems still to be there, a third element in the total stench which can be described in no other way. After you have come down out of the perimeter, you will wash and boil and rinse the clothes you wore up there, but the smell still clings defiantly to them.

This is very noisy jungle at night, much more so than our New Zealand bush. As night falls, the hitherto silent jungle finds a multitude of voices. Then there is every kind of bird or insect or reptile that clicks or scuffles, whistles or hiccups, mockingly or threateningly. None of them is musical; all are unfamiliar and unfriendly. Probably you have heard them before, but they will sound different this time.

So, before night, you will prepare yourself against the noises. Perhaps there is a creaking tree or a stream that rustles the bushes. You will have them positioned during the daylight, for it is bad to make mistakes. You will observe the darkening outline of trees and shrubs and hummocks of mud around the fox-hole, noting where a tree-trunk might block the flight of a grenade and send it falling back into your own trench. For in the night that is coming there will be no outlines; only more solid lumps of blackness at best to guide you.

The last smoke and the last words of conversation. It will be eleven hours before the next. It may be decided to let one man watch and two sleep, one hour on and two off. Perhaps last night a grenade was thrown at your hole, so it will be two men on and one off, one hour's sleep in every three. So the silent, night-long watch begins, unbroken by a word, a movement or a cough. The weary knees crumple under you with sleep; the impending collapse of the body brings you up with a savage jerk that momentarily restores consciousness. Again and again this happens. You check up needlessly for the hundredth time. The LMG is pointing down that gully you were suspicious about; it is cocked, the action on automatic. The grenade is by your hand, and its pin is unsplayed. You loosen your knife in its sheath. Everything is arranged as it was the night before. So you wait.

Our artillery has opened up, and the shells are whining over your head. The first explosion jars through your body; then it is relief, good to think of the Japs getting hell outside the perimeter, some' thing to break the monotony and the waiting. It is not the same with the mortars, though. You hate our mortars—even if not as much as the Japs do. You cannot hear a bomb coming. Perhaps it will fall short. You wish they would stop. After a while, they do, and the silence is bad too.

After an hour which spans eternity, it is your turn to sleep. You pull at the foot of your relief and he takes over without a word, taking care to make no noise. Lying down at the bottom of the hole, the heat is oppressive; there is no position of comfort, and it is difficult to sleep, even though a few minutes before you had struggled desperately against sleep. Just as your cramped body is beginning to relax, there is a burst of machine-gun fire not very far away. You listen. Then a grenade exploding. Then furious firing, and several grenades. Are the Japs attacking, or is somebody just 'trigger-happy'? Firing at night is infectious; it will spread like wild-fire along the lines.

Somebody is kicking your foot, and it is time to go on again. So the night passes, or stands still, until the unexepected dawn, long since posted as missing, and the first cigarette and the first words with friends who watched through the same night. The officer comes round, and inquires for ammunition expended and casualties. So-and-so is dead; such and such a company had trouble with the Japs trying to infiltrate; no, he doesn't know whether we will shift out of the perimeter to-day or not. So the pattern of the night is pieced together, in the greater freedom of the day. This is an average. If you had dysentery it was worse. If your nerves slipped the leash and ran away with you, it was unendurable. If you were wounded, and had to lie all night in the fox-hole without the slightest attention, it was only to be endured as death is endured.

Ours was only a small action, a tiny link in the chain of the fox-holes of Bougainville, of New Britain and of China. We were only apprentices in the school of the fox-holes, but we will assuredly master them and the night. For the struggle against Fascism is the struggle against the night; it is fitting that we should start here—in the fox-holes.

Chapter TenHours with the Signals Platoon (Somewhere in the Pacific)

0600 Hours. Mono Island.—As daylight strengthens heads and then bodies begin to appear above the edges of fox-holes. An exchange operator has already given up any hope of reply from any of his subscribers. Only too well does he know the meaning of the light, easy turn of the generator handle. K rations are eaten with an air of acceptance of no alternative. A plaintive voice is heard calling 'Hullo Charlie Three. Hullo Charlie Four'. From BHQ comes a string of enquiries for news of the companies. The radio operator produces message pad and pencil. Back at the exchange, small parties collect cable, pliers and tape and reluctantly disappear in the jungle. Some are lucky enough to have an I Section guide, others can only hope to follow the remnants of the tattered lines. A worried looking lance-corporal makes his way slowly toward the beach where smoke is still rising from the dump set ablaze during the night. How much of his precious equipment will he find? Soon there will be calls for more cable, more batteries, more telephones, more—it is just the beginning of the second day on Mono Island.

0800 Hours. Aboard one of His Majesty's troopships. Avondale Racecourse is a recent but already fading memory. Since day light eyes have been peering through the rain at this new 'home'; Paradise of the Pacific. First impressions are not good. A small jetty is seen on the shore—but the waters seem very high and ship lies anchored well off-shore. Small boats make their way alongside, nets go over the rails and the mystery is solved. All we have to do is hang equipment on every available corner, don a life-jacket over everything else, scramble down the net and hope for the best. If we don't get drenched going through the gap in the reef or miss our footing jumping for the jetty steps, maybe we'll get ashore. The local roads are a sea of mud, advance party transport is hopelessly bogged, there are no tents. It has rained for three days already, but why should a private do his scone—others of higher rank are paid to do that; or are they?

1000 Hours. Necal.—From their hiding places they gradually emerge bold and purposeful, all making in the direction of the cook-house. The early birds returning to their hide-outs are questioned eagerly, Ts there any sugar in it to-day'? Probably there isn't, and the signallers return to their tents ready to ward off any enquiring orderly officer who wonders why so many signallers are always resting. 'Exchange duty, sir.' 'Duty DR, sir.' 'Picket last night, sir.' Strangely enough the stories are usually accepted, but the appearance of Sergeant Hill struggling under a load of shovels causes consternation. Excuses are no use now. 'All out, Number One platoon. Three trucks are waiting in the shingle pit.' Wearily they climb aboard the next truck.

1200 Hours. The signallers share the anticipation of all the company. What's for lunch to-day? It is always an occasion of limitless possibilities—fresh bread, real New Zealand butter, tea with sugar, maybe even fresh meat. Or maybe—'Sorry. No bread to-day. A tree fell on the bakery last night'. Every possibility is covered by that mysterious document: the ration scale with all its wonderful alternatives 'in lieu of'.

1400 Hours. Maybe Mono Island or just another manoeuvre. Through the trackless jungle wanders a small party seeking the platoon they have been following for the last hour. Coy HQ it is. Far in the rear struggle two forlorn figures. Stumbling, cursing, sweat-drenched and mud-Stained they trudge onwards. Coy HQ pauses for a spell. At last the stragglers catch up, but a message comes down to them. Off comes the 48 set, up goes an aerial, headphones and microphones are plugged in and in no time at all more information is on its way to those ever enquiring minds at BHQ. Sighing with relief, they relax but Coy HQ have already vanished. At the edge of the tiny clearing stands a guide. 'They went this way', he calls and he too disappears. They climb to their feet and stumble on.

1600 Hours. Guadalcanal.—Lightheartedly he climbs the hill above the camp. He is 'retained for essential duties'. In go his phones, over goes a switch and presently in come the reports from a relay station on a distant hill top, in touch with out-Stations far below in the depths of Death Valley. Hidden in the gullies, clambering over rocky river beds, tripping over fallen trees, go those hapless parties attached to companies in jungle training, striving vainly to find a comfortable area for the night bivouac. Bronzed, lean and hard is their ideal; they have already gained one-third of their objective.

1800 Hours. Stirling Island.—Gathered round a small table the card players cut, shuffle and deal. All is peaceful in spite of a rising moon. From the exchange dug-out comes a muffled shout, 'Brigade's line's out again'. Resignedly the line men lay down their three aces and promising flush, gather their cable, climbing irons and other gear. They'll be back again soon before the sirens begin their nightly wail —perhaps.

2000 Hours. That line is still out. Sirens have blown red and green. Down in the exchange the operator prepares to continue his letters. Up comes the adjutant's light. He wants to call Captain Fitz—about barges for working parties. Then begins a period of ringing, calling and waiting. Strange names are exchanged—Fini, Riga, Canary, Cabinet. Some are helpful, others not. Up comes brigade light. Swiftly he plugs in—'Line party here. What line is this? Who? Chariot? OK.' That voice was never educated in New Zealand. So the struggle goes on until finally with an air of triumph he connects the adjutant. 'You're through, sir', but the adjutant has gone for a cup of tea. Finally located he is brought back to the phone but his other party has grown tired of waiting. So it starts all over again. The rumble of approaching thunder, flashes of lightning increasing in brilliance make the operator cautious. Electric storms are no pleasant experience.

2200 Hours. Force HQ. Norfolk Island.—It is far from a pleasant night and the rain which has poured down all day shows little sign of slackening. The night operator watches with sleepy eye for the occasional call, glancing enviously at the duty DR sleeping peacefully near by. The Cable Station is calling. Just as he expected, a batch of official cables is waiting ready for delivery. Callously and violently awakened the DR curses all messages and their originators, struggles into boots, leggings and cape and disappears into the night. The stuttering of his motor bike settles down to a steady roar as he slides gracefully out of the gates and continues to slide all the way to Anson Bay. The ghostly moans and eerie shrieks of mutton birds fail to inspire him and the fact that he knows now just how bad the roads are is little consolation.

2400 Hours. Normally this is a very peaceful period and the operator just beginning his spell of duty knows his hardest job will be to fill in time. A few check calls, perhaps a report from an OP where a troop look-out is seeing lights on the horizon, maybe a 'condition red' that will call him and his men and draw fluent maledictions from all those he rouses from their slumbers. His only visitors are likely to be bats or land-crabs lurking in the crevices of the coral of his underground shelter. Those strange rustlings outside may be night birds or crabs or snakes or Japs; and the bird calls repeated with slight variations may be natural. In the meantime other eyes are watching and other ears are listening. So his weary hours go by.

0200 Hours. It's Stirling Island again, and the night operator is all alone in his little world. Just an hour to go, and with luck he'll catch up with his mail. Outside a full moon shines in the peaceful waters of Blanche Harbour; around the islands, other lights twinkle, indications that others share his lonely vigil. In the distance a siren begins its mournful wail. Others take up the call; a light flashes on the switch-board. 'Condition red.' Out he goes to add to the wailing. Louder and higher shrieks the warning and from the nearby tents dash the rudely awakened sleepers. Already the crash of AA fire is speeding their flying feet. Some are booted and tin-hatted; muffled curses from the fox-holes show that sharp coral points have once again reminded the unwary of the folly of not trimming the walls of their shelters. The crash of guns dies away, ears strain for the welcome single wail but again the unwelcome visitor returns. Finally the all clear sounds and only now does the operator realise it is 0400 hours—one hour of precious sleep lost and those letters still unanswered.

0400 Hours. The loneliest watch of all. Message writers, working party organisers, all trouble makers are fast asleep. C Coy's light flashes. Probably someone wants the exact time, but no—the trucks have not arrived to collect the unloading party waiting to go to work. A strange time to go to work surely, but this is Guadal-

An LST preparing to unload at Falamai, Mono Island

Basketball in the Treasuries

Fox-holes at Malsi, on Mono. Some were covered with palm fronds, some with pup tents. As morning broke, the underground population emerged after an uncomfortable night Native guides on Mono. They knew their way through the jungle The beginning of the journey home. Men waiting in Blanche Harbour to climb the ropes of the troopship that was to take them back to New Caledonia

A patrol sets out to seek fleeing Japs on Mono. The men in camouflaged jungle clothing almost merge with their surroundings

An artist's impression of A company moving out of Malsi when the battalion was relievedcanalGuadal, a forward area where the fighting 36th work six hour shifts at any time during the night.

The tale is not complete. Stories could be told of broken lines torn to shreds by all the mechanical demons of a modern army, of branches that crash on unsuspecting tent-dwellers, of manoeuvres and exercises, of weeks of procedure to say things in a new way, of inspection parades that even 'On duty, sir' cannot avoid. Enough has been said to rank the signaller with Gilbert's policeman whose 'life is not a happy one'.

Chapter ElevenBogged Down

For the members of the carrier platoon, memories of Fiji and Norfolk are the most fruitful, for we left our carriers behind when we made our first step forward to the eventual battleground of the Treasuries. Our thoughts wander back to the gargantuan clouds of dust we raised on Norfolk roads, lantana hitched fast to every moveable part, tracks which flew off on the steepest hill-sides, and the really-impressive roaring and clattering we made as we dashed out to repel yet another landing by some pleasantly co-operative and docile enemy. But not always was the enemy so docile, as the following story from Norfolk bears witness.

It all began when the captain came in to the morning parade, with a light air of malevolence. 'We', said the captain, 'are going to get a carrier bogged.' A mutter of abuse followed this rather erratic statement, sad experience having proved for us that carriers are cranky critters at best and that life could hold no greater thrill for them than plunging belly-deep into sticky mud. 'Why', we asked ourselves, 'should we pander to this swamp phobia? And probably spend several muddy hours prising the aforementioned vehicle loose from its ooze?'

But orders are orders. We dutifully trooped over to our carriers, started up and made our dusty way down to the bogs of Kingston. And now a word as to these bogs. No mean species of bog these, deceptively docile to outward appearances, even vaguely attractive where lilies showed their pale beauty, but—treacherous, odoriferous and sticky beyond belief. A skiff of dirty brown water covered tenuous reeds, and under these an unbroken sea of mud ran in an impassable line for a full quarter of a mile. Such was the captain's idea, apparently, of a really sound bog.

The halt signal came from the HQ carrier, and we wheeled into line of sections on a dry patch of ground just at the rear of the morass. Next came the signal to dismount, and we gathered round to learn just who had been the unlucky crew chosen.

A Puckish sense of humour must have crept into the captain's mind for a moment, for his choice of crew was truly appropriate. First there was one known as 'Bog-Orange', whose cognomen seems to have sprung from his Irish ancestry and rich brogue; then came he of the creaky joints, the Loch Ness Monster; and, last but not least, behind the wheel, the irrepressible Jake. Away they went, tracks clanking and the carrier bobbing up and down to a spot on the far side of the swamp, dipped over a three-foot high wall, and ran into the outer fringes of the mud. Soon the carrier began to resemble a pouter pigeon, mud piled high as the guards and water surging and undulating against the front. Cheerful grins watched the faces of all three occupants, who seemed to have no doubts as to their ability to cross this muddy Styx.

So, much to the captain's chagrin, the vehicle ploughed steadily along, showing no signs of doing the decent thing and getting itself stuck. More chortles by the spectators, capped by a warlike shriek from a Maori member, whose eagle eye had spotted an eel weaving its bewildered way back into the mud. A wild pounce and the eel was floundering on the grass. Summary execution, and Hone Heke's face was a glow of pleasure. But not the captain's. 'Go back', said he, 'And—get yourselves stuck this time!' So, with looks of weary resignation, off they went. Once more, the same journey along the dry road to a spot opposite the bog, a wild dash, more seas of mud and dirty water oozing into the driver's compartment, and—yet another unsuccessful journey to within a few inches of the now enraged captain. No word came from him, just a silent gesture, and away they went. But with a difference this time. Half-way across, the carrier seemed to tire of these queer proceedings and settled gracefully to a sticky rest. A happy smile creased the captain's face, and ropes and pulleys and chains sprouted mysteriously from the interior of his carrier.

A tow-rope was quickly hitched to the nose of the bogged vehicle, a block fastened on another carrier on dry land, and a third was hitched on to the loose end of the tow-rope. Then all three started their engines, but beyond madly spinning tracks and enough noise to arouse all the ghosts of Kingston, not a thing happened. Again the process was repeated, and again complete and absolute failure was the result.

'Drive it out', said the captain, with a certain shade of displeasure in his voice. Jake pushed the starter button, the engine roared fiercely, and a mixture of mud, water-lilies and tadpoles flew from the exhaust. The carrier surged forward, with mud whirling high from the wildly clacking tracks, seemed almost to make the dry land; then, one track caught on a hard ridge of dry bank and the other sank deep into the slime from which it had almost risen. Canted to a crazy angle, it seemed as if it would never appear on terra firma again. But carriers are hardy, if perverse, specimens, and with a few wild stabs from the clutch, it heaved itself back on to an even keel.

'Once more, and keep her rolling', said the captain. So, again she surged forward, again she almost made it, but, alas, this time the left track straddled the dry ridge and flew away from the bogies, curling itself into a self-satisfied and confused knot immediately under the front idler.

Mercifully, a curtain was drawn over the rest of the proceedings, for the majority of us were sent back to camp for mess, while two crews and a highly irate captain remained behind to do battle with carrier, swamp, Dame Fortune and anything else that happened to drop in. Second-hand we learned of the successful combination of two ropes, two carriers and sundry very muddy and bad tempered carrier-men. But that is all past history now.

Despite all the trouble and bother the carriers seemed to drag us into, we all felt rather bereft when the time came for us to hand over to the relieving troops. All we had to remind us of our wagons was a brace of inspection lamps, a few matchettes, an odd seat or two and dollops of assorted spanners. But, as we moved forward, we took with us the bonds of unity and comradeship which have stood the Carrier Platoon and the battalion in such good stead in the sterner trials which are recorded in the history of the battalion.

Chapter Twelve'Mortars Up'

We should have known better, but our spirits were bruised and shaken, and the haze of Christmas jollity inclined us to think well of our fellow man. Clustered on Papakura's green sward with the sun lulling us into what we hoped was an unobserved doze, we listened with one ear as the sergeant pleaded his case, our thoughts busy with the events of the last few days.

Christmas we had spent at Trentham, but the army, full of that kindly solicitude which impels it to care for its lowliest children, suddenly recalled the Railway Department's appeal 'travel by train this Christmas' and rushed its speedy machinery into motion to whisk us away. The colonel was a gay old spark—'Let's make it a surprise' he chortled, withholding the glad news until noon and then suddenly announcing: 'Everyone packed ready to move by 1300 hours—eat when and as you can'. At 1340 hours, complete with sandbuckets and spades (plus a couple of hundredweight of odd baggage) we found ourselves herded aboard the train and away. Every care had been taken to assure our comfort, and all night we plugged steadily on, carriages devoid of steam heat, with one delicious meal of lukewarm tea and a cold pie to keep spirits soaring until out of the dawn mists our new home appeared and we tumbled out stiff and sore in every limb. So here we were next day, 31 January, silently weighing the curly haired sergeant's appeal as he rambled on.

Even the army's kindly trip had failed to ease our bruised spirits —four hundred of us had been torn from our units after months of specialized training, plonked down here and cryptically told, 'You're in the infantry now'. Dark suspicion clouded our minds as the sergeant continued, extolling the virtues of his unborn mortar platoon, working up toward the final call for volunteers.

'No route marching' he cooed. 'Specialist work interesting—no monotony—initiative required.' Then with the cunning of a serpent and the voice of a dove he produced his joker: 'Of course, no fatigues for mortarmen—too much training for that'. The words had scarcely crossed his lips before a swift amazed glance had sizzled between Ted, Harry, and myself, and as one man we arose.

We retired that night in the spirit of the old hymn: 'Where every prospect pleases and only man is vile'. I repeat, we were but recruits, and the grim cynicism born of experience had not yet replaced the rosy illusions of civilian life. Next morning found us paraded expectantly, to be marched off to the training area where we were to make our first acquaintance with our instruments of torture.

The blight settled early: gone was the easy going, wooing sergeant of yesterday. Though his bodily form was the same, a human dynamo had suddenly commenced whirring in his breast. Relentlessly he drove us—base-plates crashed on toes as we inexpertly set them down; bipods invariably showed their evil spirits by twisting round back to front and we knew not how to correct them; layers stoods hopelessly searching for vanished sight standards. After two days of this puishment we usually managed to mount the mortar more or less correctly in about two or three minutes. Goaded to fury, our tormentor stormed and raved: 'You're not mortarmen's toenails (or words to that effect)—the standard time is 60 seconds, and not a man passes till that is done'.

The third day he sensed our flagging enthusiasm and sought to encourage us with a lecture. Smiling sweetly he produced an evil looking ten-pound bomb and blandly announced: 'This is a live three-inch mortar bomb fused and ready for firing. I will now demonstrate the firing mechanism'. A detailed technical description followed, complete with lurid details of the circle of destruction cleared by the exploding projectile.

An evil gleam lighted his eye as he stroked the nose-cap meditatively. 'The slightest obstruction touching this cap during the bomb's flight is sufficient to set it off immediately. 'But', he went on cheerfully, 'it's perfectly safe, as I shall now prove by dropping it nose first on the ground.'

Five minutes later he was still rounding us up from the surrounding ditches, the record being 150 yards covered in ten seconds flat by our fastest sprinter. The average was round about 100 yards, which he rated not bad from a standing start. His language was frightful. 'You chicken-livered lot of greenhorns', he bellowed. 'I told you it was safe.' Good taste prohibits a full report of his peroration, but we gathered he was not pleased. His lecture on safety devices somewhat restored our faith if not our self respect. Nothing can quite eclipse such incidents as these of our early training until after arrival at our first overseas destination.

The sudden voyage released us from much irksome work, and we fondly nursed the illusion the worst was past and only practice was now required to make us mortarmen extraordinary, the pride of the battalion.

Alas for the hopes of man!

First days ashore revealed a deluge of new terms cloaking unimagined horrors. The first blow fell out of a clear sky. 'Well', observed the sergeant, his voice fairly dripping the milk of human kindness, 'to-day we commence something new—long carries.' Groans escaped our clamped lips, but a sergeant is an ugly customer with whom to argue, so meekly we shoulder our crosses as designated. Numbers 1, 2, and 3 found themselves humping an average of just under 50 pounds of cast metal apiece, each part especially designed to bruise the human frame in as many places as possible simultaneously, and a triumph of the designers' art.

To the craftier brethren, who had hovered in the background, 'ammunition carrier' had now become a grim reality. Sixty pounds apiece was their portion—six bright shiny new bombs which they grew to hate with a consuming passion as the morning sun climbed higher and hotter. Across streams and marshes we lugged our mortars, through brush and thorns, up precipitous hillsides in agonized toil, muscles groaning and bodies a bath of sweat.

Enviously we gazed at the once despised infantry sections marching past us with ease, burdened only with rifle and web, hurling taunts as they went. Wending our tortuous way forward, we reflected on the heartlessness of men in general, and the duplicity of sergeants in particular.

Long ago the fair promise of fatigueless days had proven a mirage. Cookhouse, sanitary, guard, tunnel driving in solid papa rock all made their cheery appearance in seemingly endless succession. Sandwiched between all this, our mortar education was at last approaching the stage of an advanced art where the last subtle tortures were being absorbed. About here we began to realize the parts of the mortar were no inanimate hunks of metal, but perverse ghoulish beings possessed of temperament and subject to moods.

Who but a trained mortarman appreciates the fiendish delight a base-plate takes in live shoots? Carefully select a hard even surface having every appearance of solidity, place it down tenderly, and what will it do? Chortling with glee it leaps, twists and burrows with each shot, invariably discovering a mountainous rock on which to bend every strengthening rib and bounce every bubble askew. Then with a contented sigh it snuggles down deeply until picks and crowbars barely suffice to prise it loose. What shall we say of the contrary levelling bubbles, drunken with tropical heat, splitting into a dozen miniature globules and stubbornly refusing to centralize? Or the snapping of jaws of bipod locking nuts, gouging great lumps of flesh as the unwary snap them shut? Who shall tell of the highly strung recoil spring, joyfully fastening on all and sundry with the sheer joy of living as the bombs chash away. We found them difficult creatures these ghouls, demanding care and consideration before consenting to work in harmony with their sweating slaves the crew.

But at last we found them happy, when the great day came and our mortars poured their iron hail of destruction on a live and vicious foe, proving our toil was not in vain nor our understanding wasted. Base-plate and bipod, barrel and sights clung together in sweet accord, temperament stilled and each giving of its best as the rhythmic crack of fired bombs merged with exploding crashes as they burst among the Japs position ahead in the jungle, spreading confusion and death among the sons of Nippon. Affectionately we patted them, hastily feeding their hungry mouths with missiles of death as they gleefully spat them away with every bubble central and base-plate steady as a rock.

Soon the yellow men were falling back before this vicious curtain of fire, beyond our range, so tenderly we took them down, cleaning and oiling each part with new regard and affection. Forgotten was every tantrum, every hour of sweating toil—we were battlemates at last.

As we took our ease we felt as those who had found the truth, and the truth had made us free.

Let the infantry march lightly by, batmen smile in their easeful sinecures, the carriers may ride for all we care—when the bullets fly the cry will arise: 'Mortars Up' and we will be there.

Almost we forgive that sergeant—we're proud to be 'Mortars'.

Chapter ThirteenGalloping Gerty 'New Zealanders on Pacific Islands build and operate own sawmill' News Items, New Zealand Papers.

We don't think that headline referred to the outfit operated by B company at Anson Bay, Norfolk Island, but we certainly did 'build and operate' our own sawmill. As every man who took part in that campaign well remembers, the first two months were remarkable for two things; scarcity of food and entire absence of stores. Every enquiry elicited the same reply: 'They are in the bottom of the ship; Tents, stores, rations, tools, all were in the bottom layer of the holds. So, in desperation, B company set to work to provide for themselves.

Reconnaissance patrols speedily located quantities of good wire strung along on posts like telephone lines. Some over-honest soldier was heard to murmur about passion-fruit orchards, but this was treated with contempt. Pieces of lovely pipe and rusty sheets of corrugated iron were found and with our Fiji training we felt confident of being able to construct an entire camp complete with all the usual facilities out of this abundant material.

One 'patrol' brought information concerning an engine and circular saw for cutting firewood. At first this news failed to register in our minds. Never in all our experience had we had any machinery available. But the Kiwi's brain is equal to any emergency and soon the thought of building a saw-mill was born in a resourceful imagination. Could we casually 'acquire' the whole outfit? For a company that had scrounged a complete bath-tub and fittings from the grounds of a gaol, almost anything is possible, but we hesitated about a saw-millsawmill, mainly because the noise of its operation would make concealment of the 'conversion' difficult. So other methods were tried.

That most engagingly diplomatic officer, the company commander, soon brought the owner under his spell to such an extent that permission was granted to take the whole plant away and use it for our own purposes. The 'works' comprised a 10 hp garden tractor that had lain idle for a considerable time, a perfectly good spindle and a slightly cockeyed oval saw, on a bench rather the worse for exposure to Norfolk's lovely weather. The company 'engineers' got to work, and soon the tractor was heading for its new home in uncertain dashes between accumulations of rust in the carburettor. Immediately the name 'Galloping Gerty' was bestowed upon the machine and its sex definitely established as female. She had other and less affectionate appellations hurled at her radiator cap at times but the less said about that the better.

Of course, even island troops require tools to build a saw-mill. We had 'em; an axe found under an empty house and Jack Donnelly's hammer. Under the cunning, if heavy, hand of Alf Tinkham the thing took shape. Two logs roughly squared, a large quantity of wire, four staples and sundry stakes formed the bench. The spindle was held in place by nails, a belt turned up rather mysteriously, pulleys were adjusted by the simple expedient of wrapping sacking, rope and wire about them and such incidentals as rollers and 'gates' were cheerfully dispensed with. In the preliminary gallop various difficulties cropped up, as is only to be expected when pure science and mechanical theory emerge into practical experience. The belt promptly ran off" the pulley, so one man held it on with a crowbar. The belt slipped and our scanty supply of treacle was sacrificed to the cause of progress. The bench proved to be too low on the ground; a trench for the 'shovers in' to walk along put that right, and soon the great masterpiece was in full blast.

For each day's operations the following personnel were detailed:—

One mechanic (drawing 2/6 extra duty pay) to keep Gerty going. One man to keep the belt on with crowbar. One man to pour treacle on the belt. Two strong men to carry the free end of log. CSM Tinkham shoving and guiding logs on to the saw. One man pouring water on the saw. One man 'tailing out'. Two axeman squaring and de-barking logs. Four men getting logs from Anson Point. One RAP attendant to take care of casualties.

And, finally, carpenter Donnelly waiting to pounce on each board as it was produced. In action, it was a fearsome spectacle. Gerty roaring, coughing and belching black smoke; the mechanic as busy as a Kiwi on an ants' nest, pulling on wires, shoving levers, coaxing and cursing; the belt holder-on struggling violently with the crowbar; the treaclepourer trying vainly to get the stuff on to the belt as it flapped madly about its uncertain orbit; the log-carriers, water-pourer and tailer-out covered in wet sawdust. Presiding genius and directing brain of the entire performance, Tinkham pushed and heaved, all the while shouting orders: 'Hold it higher!' 'Lower it down!' 'Push the b log in!' 'Pull it out! Pull it back!' 'Oh! You brainless fool!' This last as Gerty labouring under the strain, finally tears the belt off the pulleys and with a triumphant roar, begins to leap up and down, threatening to take off and fly away.

Captain Britton hovered about, alternating between jubilation, when things went well, and exasperated rage when they didn't. Over the scene swirled a cloud of tow torn from the sack pulleys, fragments of belting and a fine mist of treacle. Altogether a good show, a source of endless interest to B company, the neighbours and even the CO of the 36th Battalion.

But, did we get any timber? We certainly did. The mess room was completely outfitted with tables and forms; furniture for our recreation hut, the tables in Anson Bay Hall on which Christmas dinner was spread—all came from Galloping Gerty, B company's saw-mill. When the time came to leave our island home, Gerty was sadly hitched to a truck to be returned to her owner. But the old girl had one more surprise up her sleeve. At the first jerk on the tow-rope, she dug in her toes and bucked violently, tossing Alf Tinkham high in the air, then waited for him to come down on the numerous sharp levers protruding from her hindquarters. Which he did, breaking three ribs in the process. Last round to Gerty.

Yes—'New Zealanders on Pacific Island build and operate own sawmill'.

Chapter FourteenEntertainment

For troops in modern war not only must supply lines of ammunition and rations be maintained, but means of entertainment must also be priority one, if a high morale is to be maintained. In the isolated outposts and forward areas of the Pacific, this is a tremendous problem. It is no small tribute to all companies of the 36th that so much was done, under such difficult conditions, to relieve the monotony and isolation of our life by the entertainments we enjoyed.

Apart from the motion pictures, which we will mention separately, and the occasional welcome visits of the Kiwi (Divisional) and Tui (Brigade) concert party, the divisional band and travelling USO shows, most of our amusements were the result of our own efforts.

In Fiji the problem was least pressing. Stationed in or near the township of Suva with its baths, hotels, two picture theatres and the fine New Zealand Club and hospitable CWO—these two were our homes away from home—no great importance was attached to the organising of entertainment. Yet it was here that the first and only battalion concert—as distinct from the many later company concerts —was held, and Padre Pearce's skilful direction made it an outstanding success.

Norfolk Island faced us with the problem in its full magnitude. Here there was no township, no movies, nothing in the way of entertainment at all. Certainly our morale would have dropped to zero and remained there, had nothing been done. The necessary committees promptly got to work. It was discovered that a set of band instruments were available, and no time was lost in setting up a battalion band, which later became the force band. When the 'At Home' afternoons, organised by the various companies, were under way—first at C company—the band was available and contributed greatly to their success.

Great praise is due to Padre Liggett for his organising work on Norfolk. Under the greatest difficulties for lighting, costumes, and all the necessary material for a successful concert, his first concert was staged in the Four Pines area with outstanding success. The back of a truck was the stage; curtains and scenes were of scrim; but it was this success which led to the formation of a force concert party which attracted a large audience of soldier and civilian at fortnightly intervals throughout our stay on Norfolk. Then Major Pat Webster introduced an indoor race meeting system on different lines. The radio was tuned into New Zealand for the acceptances, bets were placed accordingly, and later the radio was again tuned in to hear the winners. The familiar indoor racing, where model horses fight it out with the aid of dice or cards, was a steady favourite to the end. Most companies organised these, and they again proved popular in the forward area of the Solomons.

Other companies organised their debating and 'Critics' Clubs', which provided many lively evenings. Among lectures which were organised were RSM Arkless on 'My Experiences as a Prisoner of War 1917-1919'; Major Webster on 'A Tour to England with the All Blacks'; Neil. Pharazyn on 'Experiences with the International Police in Shanghai', and Gordon Watson on 'Impressions of Modern Russia'.

One or two dances were held on Norfolk, although there were far too few womenfolk on the island to provide partners for the many who wished to dance. However, these evenings were always enjoyable and showed the hospitable Norfolk Islanders to best advantage. It was not until the advanced party had already left for New Caledonia that the talkies arrived on Norfolk, with the advent of a 16 mm machine, donated by the National Patriotic Fund Board, and we were favoured with only three screenings before we left.

From the entertainments point of view, first impressions of New Caledonia were hopeful, and these impressions were correct, as leisure hours were fairly well occupied. A nearby American negro engineers' camp generously gave us permission to visit their theatre, which gave a regular show of either movies or the current USO performance.

Oddly enough, it was during our brief stay on Guadalcanal that entertainments reached their peak. In the first place, there was a nightly picture show at the 'Regent', right on the outskirts of the camp; and Kiwis, Tuis, the USO and even a concert party given by the Fijian and Tongan commando units, passed before us in rapid succession.

It was not long after the last shots had been fired in the Treasuries that the 'silver screen' appeared again in the dense jungle, and brought relaxation to the hundreds of action-weary troops. With the Japs all the time only 18 miles away from us, it is really amazing how much was achieved in the Treasuries.

Gala days, which were really a brigade carnival, with side-shows, sports, races, wood-chopping events and boxing and wrestling bouts were very popular. With practically no material at all A company broke the ice and produced the first local concert, on a small rough stage with pup-tents for a curtain. One especially amusing feature of this show was a 'cavalcade' which presented the history of the battalion from the humorous side. Then Padre Parker, whose efforts on behalf of the men were always unremitting, and his HQ Company Committee introduced the most successful 'Coral Diggers' concert party. Two shows, 'Coral Diggers of 1943' and 'Coral Diggers of 1944' were presented—an amazing medley of can-can girls, choir, ballets, hill-billies and bar-room singers. D company put on two shows on the excellent stage in their own area, 'Fuel Dock Follies' and 'All Over the Place', while the outstanding item in B company's lively concert was the sergeants' ballet.

Movies were not as handy as on Guadalcanal, but were always well patronised. Perhaps a few words are needed about our 'theatres', lest the wrong impression has been conveyed. The thickest of the undergrowth was simply cut away and the screens set up. There were no usherettes, no cushioned seats, no Neon lights and no waiting in queues. The sky was our roof; logs, stumps and even the ground our seats. After the first few performances, however, ingenious souls got busy, and within a few days every movie-goer had his own little folding seat which he carried to and from the various shows. Many a time Tojo interrupted us, but as soon as the all clear sounded, on went the show.

Reference must be made to a few of the outstanding personalities of the concerts. Female impersonators who will be remembered were Hal Robinson, Athol Wheatcroft and Athol Isdale, while prominent among the comedians were 'Steggo' (Lieutenant Steggles), Frank Carroll, Roly Rough, Murray ('Pinocchio') Bowie, 'Lofty' Gregory and Freddie Frith.

It was found that the most popular item of any concert was the ballet, and we pass in quick review the unforgettable Suva Ballet, the Officers' Ballet on Norfolk, and the famous Sylph Flussian Ballet of the Treasuries which presented two numbers, 'There are Fairies at the Bottom of our Garden' and 'Schehzerade'. In the forward area, where only absolutely vital equipment could be brought up, improvisation was the law for all concerts. Atabrin and jungle face' dyes, it must be confessed, played a prominent part in the dyeing of frocks, scenes, draping and costumes.

The conditions were not often favourable for the production of company newspapers, though headquarters company published Butch's Block, B company ran a regular weekly paper called Strewth on Norfolk and D company produced a Christmas edition of an elaborately illustrated wall-newspaper. A great part of all this work would not have been possible without the co-operation and assistance of the YMCA, and special credit for their work goes to its field officers, Keith Harwood, Stan Olds, Roy Trigg and 'Thornie' Dick. So, when for the 36th the curtain of happy times is lowered and the lights of laughter have faded out, the memories of comradeship gained will still remain.

Chapter FifteenSports History

IRugby Football

Rugby found many supporters in the battalion, and featured prominently in our life, wherever circumstances permitted. I am sure that some of the matches played will long be remembered. Though some of the grounds on which we played were far from good, who will forget those two wonderful grounds at Suva—Albert Park and Nasova Field? These two were indeed better than most New Zealand fields.

From March 1942 to August 1943, football was played almost continuously, inter-company competitions on Wednesday afternoons and inter-units contests on Saturday afternoon. Company teams were fairly evenly matched, so that one was always certain of a keen and vigorously contested game.

In the inter-unit contest the battalion fifteen, though unable to claim an unbeaten record, did play football of a consistently high standard. The selection of the first team was no easy matter, and though there were many subsequent changes, it is interesting to note that many who played in the first game still represented the battalion in the last game, that memorable match against the 29th Battalion in New Caledonia.

On 3 March 1942, the battalion scored a win in its first inter-unit game. From then on the standard of play improved, and continued to do so until our move from Fiji, and toward the end of the season we were able to field a team that played rugby of New Zealand inter-provincial standard. Though the inter-unit competition was not completed before our departure, we were in a favourable position, and might possibly have emerged the winners.

Games that will long be remembered are the two matches played at Albert Park against a fifteen from HMS Leander. Here football was seen at its best. The pack, led by W. E. Thompson, played an outstanding game and more than held their own against the heavier Leander forwards. The backs handled well and took advantage of every opening—the result of the training and coaching provided by Jim Dempsey, ex-league player and undoubtedly the best back who has ever played in our fifteen. At this stage the battalion was field-ing a back line which functioned as well as at any time in its history.

Here are the results of the games played in Fiji:— v. Div. HQWon 13-9v. 34th BnWon 6-3v. RoversWon 19-8V. S/L BtyLost 5-6v. 52nd BtyWon 18-15v. Bde. UnitsWon 8-0v. "HMS Leander"Won 6-3v. 2nd FDFLost 4-5v. 34th BnWon 9-8v. S/L BtyWon 21-0v. RoveraLost 5-6v. "HMS Leander"Won 12-3v. "HMS Leander"Won 11-9

On Norfolk Island the position of rugby as the leading sport was seriously challenged, and inter-company football created more interest than inter-unit, because of the lack of opposition caused through the smallness of the force.

Teams playing on their own grounds usually won the matches because of their greater knowledge of the many irregularities of the fields. Anson Bay Field—B company's home ground—was almost completely covered by a thick mat of buffalo grass, and for some considerable time only B company knew of the less thinly covered areas where running was possible! Nobbs' paddock—the home ground of C company—had such an uneven ground that, until visiting teams learned its tricks, they were inevitably beaten. At the ground shared by HQ and D (S) companies, Bailey's paddock, visiting wing three-quarters soon found that the easiest path to the goal line was down the centre of the field, and not down the side lines. Inter-unit matches, though not of a high standard, were played regularly, and the battalion fifteen maintained leadership without a great deal of effort, and was able to claim an undefeated record. We were fortunate here in having R. W. Nieper, ex-Southland and Otago rep., a versatile player capable of filling a place in the forwards or the backs equally well, whose knowledge of football proved invalu-able in the training of the fifteen.

In New Caledonia inter-company football showed a consistent improvement, with a greater number playing rugby, with the result that both companies and battalion were able to field A and B teams. Inter-unit contests commenced soon after our arrival. Two rounds of the competition were played, and in both rounds the battalion fifteen finished second.

The matches which created the greatest interest were the two against the 29th Battalion, the winners of the championship. The first game drew a large crowd, as the result would settle a controversy as to the better team which had begun in Fiji. Both teams were fit, and, as had been anticipated, the game was a fine exhibition of football. Highlights of the game were the sweeping rushes of the battalion pack, and the breakaways of Eastwood, the 29th's speedy wing three-quarter.

The second match drew an even larger crowd as a win would have placed us as leaders in the competition. It was without doubt the best game the battalion fifteen ever played. The two teams were as follows:—

29th Battalion.—Burke, McKenzie, Swinburne, Barlow, Gillespie, Conder, Waugh, Wright, Campbell, Meadows, Jordan, McDonald, Thurston, Bolt.

36th Battalion.—Thompson, Duncan, Werner, Forsyth, John-stone, Chilcott, Armstrong, Lister, Baynes, Glen, Chilton, Quinn, Blackmore, Nieper.

Here is a description written by the battalion reporter at the game:

'From the outset of the game the 36th proved the superior forward team and realised it. They kept the ball among themselves to stage spectacular dribbling and passing rushes. However, they were competing against Barlow who was having a field day as far as penalties were concerned. Through the entire game the 29th did not once cross the 36th line. In. the early stages 36th. Battalion forwards were all working with sting and determination, and led a rush on to the 29th line, the ball passing through several hands to Thompson who scored. Wagner converted. Later Barlow kicked two penalties for the 29th and also kicked a field goal, giving the 29th a lead of 10-5 at half-time.

'Again, in the second half, the 36th forwards displayed even greater initiative and determination, leading rush after rush on the 2.9th line, some almost three parts of the length of the field, sweeping ball and all before them. From two such positions Duncan scored, and immediately after Nieper went over. Neither kick succeeded. Lister attempted a drop-kick, but did not get time for careful aim. From a penalty a considerable way out Barlow again converted for the 29th. The 36th forwards lost none of their dash, despite the heat and hard play, keeping the ball in the 29th quarter for the rest of the game.'

These are the results of the games played in New Caledonia:— v. 34th BnWon 6-3v. 7th Fd. AmbWon 14-0v. 37th BtyWon 16-0v. 29th BnLost 17-9v. Bde HQWon 8-3v. 4th RMTWon 14-8v. 34th BnWon 8-0v. 7th Fd AmbWon 20-10v. 4th RMTWon 10-0v. 29th BnLost 13-11

IIAthletics

Early in March 1942, Lieutenant-Colonel Barry called together all company sports officers, informing them that Wednesday afternoons would be set aside for organised sport and that he would like to see the first battalion athletic championships held in April.

In order to find out what athletic talent there actually was in the battalion a series of 'tabloid' athletic meetings was first held, followed by company championships. In Fiji there was little difficulty in finding grounds, and the companies were able to hold their own meetings at Albert Park and on the Samambula, St. Felix and Huon Street 'arenas'.

April 8 was the big day of the battalion championships. Albert Park had been transformed through the work of an energetic subcommittee under Major Pat Webster. The grass was closely cut, and the white track shone out against the vivid green. At intervals around the 440 yards track small yellow and black flags had been placed, while from a high, white flagpole in the centre of the ground, the big battalion flag fluttered proudly in the breeze.

The heats occupied most of the morning's programme, together with the 880 yards event, which demonstrated that the battalion had a first-class middle distance runner in J. J. Wallace. His long stride and effortless style were a pleasure to watch, and his time of just over two minutes was a very creditable performance after less than a month's training.

The afternoon's programme began with a march past of the company teams, a splendid sight as they circled the grounds, tanned bodies clad in khaki shorts and white singlets, marked by the vari' coloured company sashes. By now quite a large crowd was present, which included the Governor of Fiji, Sir Harry Luke, who was the donor of the handsome tortoiseshell shield which was the prize for the competition.

The afternoon's contests produced some splendid performances, notably B. B. Quinn (A company), winner of the sprints, D. W. C. Lange (A company) in the jumps, and J. J. Wallace (HQ company) peerless in the middle distances. To A company went the honour of being the first holders of the Luke Shield.

The results of the finals were:— FirstSecondThird100 ydsB. B. QuinnH. WaughW. Tricklebank220 ydsB. B. QuinnJ. W. CowleyW. Tricklebank440 ydsT. L. HaroR. W. StarrD. R. OrtonOne mileJ. J. WallaceH. E. McDonaldS. A. Aim220 yds hurdlesA. P. ThomasH. WaughC. C. WildHigh JumpI. G. BlakeJ. BoolE. A. StrattonBroad JumpD. W. C. LangeJ. BoolC. A. CardieHod. Step and JumpD. W. C. LangeW. H. HartgillO. G. DaveyShot PutH. W. WilliamsD. W. C. LangeE. P. RutherfordRelay RaceHQ CompanyA CompanyC Company

Next came the brigade championships on 22 April, open to all troops stationed on the Suva side of Fiji. Although some of our representatives put up fine performances—notably B. B. Quinn who finished a close third in the 100 yards, and J. J. Wallace, second in the mile after a grand race—it was those magnificent athletes, the Fijians, who scooped the pool. At the end of the day, the First Fijian Defence Battalion was on top, closely followed by the Second FDF, while the 36th Battalion, well behind, finished third. We were the only New Zealand team to win a place.

Athletics then gave way to Rugby, and it was not until we came to Norfolk Island that activities were resumed. Unfortunately, then, some of the stars of Fiji were missing, notably J. J. Wallace, D. W. C. Lange and I. G. Blake.

On Norfolk company championships were first held on paddocks in the company areas, and then on 17 December the battalion meeting took place at Lee's paddock. Again Major Webster's committee had made an excellent job of the ground, though it was more restricted than Albert Park, and it was impossible to get more than 330 yards track.

B. B. Quinn again won the sprints in a convincing fashion, while a newcomer, L. H. Bedford took over Wallace's mantle in the longer distances. A. M. Stuart of C company surprised all but his own company by running away with the mile and three-mile events. He proved himself in a class of his own in the three-miler, and easily lapped the field, after establishing a big lead in the first lap. Mention must be made of the sterling performance of A. C. Cook of D (support) company in the three miles. 'Cookie' ran a wonderful race, and displayed such great heart and stamina that when he finished in the third place, the ovation which greeted him could have been no greater had he won.

Individual results were as follows:— FirstSecondThird100 ydsB. B. QuinnA. P. ThomasE. A. Major220 ydsB. B. QuinnJ. W. CowleyN. E. Palmer440 ydsL. H. BedfordT. L. HarpB. H. Bousie880L. H. BedfordT. L. HarpJ. J. Morione mileA. M. StuartI. T. GallowayG. W. BroadThree milesA. M. StuartJ. G. MullerA. O. Cook220 yds hurdlesA. P. ThomasG. C. WildA. F. McKenzieHigh JumpA. F. McKenzieT. HaroldJ. W. WaewoBroad JumpJ. W. WaewoC. P. HaverbierD. P. TaylorHod. Step and JumpE. A. MajorN. E. PalmerE. D. ButchartShot PutH. PlowmanH. W. WilliamsC. Harold

Winners of Luke Shield: D (S) company.

Battalion championships were closely followed by the force meeting on Boxing Day, when the civilian population, including the Administrator, Major-General Sir Charles Rosenthal, turned out in force. Though we were confident of a win, we had to give way to the fine team put up by the ack-ack, who were fortunate in having such a fine athlete as Second-Lieutenant Thornton, the winner of the 100 yards, the 2.20 yards, the 220 yards hurdles and the broad jump —a remarkable performance.

L. H. Bedford won the 880 yards convincingly, and the mile was a triumph for the battalion, as I. T. Galloway, C. W. Broad and C. Clibborn filled all the places. A. M. Stuart won the three-mile as easily as he had done in the battalion competition.

Hardly were we off the transports which took us to New Caledonia than word was received that the 8th Brigade championships were to be held on Anzac Day, 25 April. This gave little more than a week for training, and so it was decided that the team which had represented us in Norfolk should take the field again.

The contest was held right at our back-door on the Ouenghi sports ground, which though big was rather uneven in its surface. Again we proved that we were the best athletic team in the brigade, and came home the winners with the 34th Battalion second.

B. B. Quinn won the 100 yards flat and the 120 yards hurdles and L. H. Bedford the 880 yards, while we repeated our Norfolk performance of gaining all three places in the mile, with I. T. Galloway, C. W. Broad and C. Clibborn. A. M. Stuart romped home once again in the three-mile.

An 8th Brigade team travelled up to Moindah for the divisional championships on 8 May. B. B. Quinn finished third in both the 100 yards flat and the 120 yards hurdles, while Stuart won the three-mile.

About this time the battalion lost the services of its capable sports officer, Major N. J. T. Webster who excelled in the organisation of athletics, and his departure for New Zealand left a big gap.

Since New Caledonia days, it has been impossible to organise further athletic meetings, but what has been accomplished will always be a source of pride and happy memories.

IIICricket

Though cricket may not have played so spectacular a part in the battalion's history as other sports, our eleven has at least had the distinction of having had its colours lowered by no other unit—no mean achievement.

In Fiji cricket was not very popular, mainly because of the intense heat of the early months of 1942. In addition, the tactical situation demanded a six-day working-week, which left only Sundays to play games and prepare everything else for the following week. Still a few enthusiasts got together, and arranged friendly games against other military and civilian teams. Possibly the most enjoyable games were those played against the Fijian native police on their picturesque ground at Nasova Barracks. No player will ever forget the wonderful bowling performances of Villiami,. the big Fijian constable. For long spells, unchanged, he would bowl those medium fast in-swingers which few could play with any confidence. In these games E. G. Batstone and W. Barr-Brown proved themselves first-class batsmen, and any runs made by them were well worth watching.

It was not until Norfolk Island that cricket really came into its own. The interest was very keen, and a good rivalry soon grew up.

However, there was a great difficulty in preparing wickets. Norfolk had only one good wicket—the concrete matting one on the Kingston Oval. Some of the companies set to work on the rough paddocks, and produced quite fair wickets, possibly the best being 'Orton's Oval' of C company. HQ company had quite a good wicket on Ike's paddock, but the boundaries were short, and very often a lucky snick through the slips would go for a six over the fence into the vegetable garden at one end or on top of the tents on the other.

On Wednesday afternoons inter-company games were played, in which HQ company and C company proved the strongest teams. Two complete rounds were played, with HQ the winners in the first and C in the second. Nevertheless, due to the vagaries of the wickets, either of these sides was liable to collapse and several times was beaten by other companies. Later in the season the RNZAF entered a team in the competition, and this brought rivalry to its keenest pitch.

On Saturdays an inter-unit competition was held with eight teams in it, including a civilian side, one from the Australian forces there, and one from an Australian Construction Unit. Our battalion eleven performed consistently well throughout the season, and remained undefeated champions at the end. Perhaps the closest shave was against the Force HQ team when the issue was in doubt right to the finish. When Trevor Lyons and W. Thompson became associated

His Excellency the Governor-General, Sir Cyril Newall, meeting: men of the battalion in their jungle camp during his tour of units of the Third Division

Intelligence at work

BattalionCommandersAbove left: Lieutenant-Colonel J. W. Barry, the battalion's first commander. He was succeeded by Lieuten-ant-Colonel K. B. Me-Kenzie - Muirson, MC, (above right), who took the battalion through the action in the Trea-suries. On the left is Lieutenant - Colonel B. H. Pringle, who took command of the battalion after Lieu-tenant-Colonel McKen-zie - Muirson returned to New Zealandin a tenth wicket stand nine runs were still required for victory. Only after the 'maestro' Trevor Lyons had survived two confident lbw appeals was victory achieved.

Our main rival, though, was the ack-ack team. Our first clash took place on the tricky Hutchinson Domain wicket. On the first innings the battalion team was slightly in the lead, so the ack-ack went after the runs in their second knock and declared, leaving us 80 runs to get in forty minutes. Mainly due to a great knock by E. G. Batstone of 45 runs in fifteen minutes, we did the trick and wrote off the runs with five minutes to spare and with eight wickets in hand. In the second encounter, held in Kingston Oval, we batted first and made 135 in two and a half hours. In the same time the ack-ack made 87 for seven wickets, and we claimed a moral victory. Lyons' feat of bowling for two and a half hours unchanged and returning four for 32 was a great effort.

The third and final game was held at Kingston late in March 1943. Again we batted first, but could make only 98 runs. The ack-ack went in full of confidence. A thrilling finale to the season came when their last man, in attempting a big hit which probably would have given them victory, had his stumps spreadeagled by a good length ball from W. Tricklebank.

The battalion eleven more or less picked itself, in the company games, and remained fairly constant throughout the season. Our regular players were T. Lyons, R. E. Thomas, E. G. Batstone, A, Siddall, D. R. Orton, W. Barr-Brown, W. Tricklebank, E. Densem, A. B. Willis and W. Thompson. As the season progressed, the civilian eleven could not field a full side, so members of the battalion under T. Welch helped them to maintain their side. Toward the end nine members of the battalion were playing regularly for their., and met with average success.

IVSwimming

Swimming was at first given little consideration in the battalion sports world, and the first competition was not held until 20 June 1942, in the Suva public swimming baths. No outstanding times were recorded, as there had been very little intensive training. It was a close contest, with HQ company winning by a narrow margin from A and D (S) companies which tied for second place. The fastest swimmers proved to be: R. Starr, E. S. Densem (BHQ), D. W. C. Lange, S. C. Armstrong (A company), J. F. Ryan, R. S. Lawrence [D (S) company].

On Norfolk Island swimming was taken much more seriously. A company had lost a good swimmer in Lange, but B company came to the top with the addition to their ranks of R. K. Wood and J. Hanafin, two fast swimmers over all free-style distances. In the sports held at Emily Bay on 26 February 1943, B company came in an easy first, with HQ company second. The fastest times were recorded by R. Lawrence, R. Starr (BHQ), S. C. Armstrong (HQ company), R. K. Wood and J. Hanafin (B company). Later on 11 March, a force carnival was held, again in Emily Bay, when the 36th Battalion won with a large margin. Both these meetings were held in the open sea, and despite the many difficulties they were excellently run, mainly because of the work done by Lieutenant Leuchars, who had also organised the Fiji carnival.

A feature of the force carnival was the emergence of a battalion surf life-saving team, trained by Lieutenant Leuchars. They gave a good exhibition of reel and beach work, and provided a regular beach patrol, necessary for the rough waters around Norfolk.

Camped on the banks of the Ouenghi River, the battalion found New Caledonia an ideal place for fresh-water swimming. The first carnival held here was a brigade meeting. The pool was formed by two stagings right across the river, making a thirty-three and one-third yards bath, and at this spot the current was negligible and did not impede swimmers. This was the first occasion in which the battalion team had met really good competition, and all the events were keenly contested with our team winning by a narrow margin from the 34th Battalion. Our team swam well and deserved its win. A battalion carnival was held in the same pool on 2,1 August and resulted in a win by one point for B company from D company. This occasion marked the first appearance of R. Gurr who swam for D company.

With our arrival in the Treasuries swimming really came into its own, both for pleasure and for sport. Because of the natural condi-tions it was almost the only sport which could be held, though the battalion team did not have much chance of training as a team, in view of the scattered nature of the companies' positions. Water-polo was played for the first time as a battalion sport, and a number of inter-company games held. B company had the best team, with HQ company holding second place. The battalion team benefited considerably by these games, as was proved when they defeated all-comers at the 34th Battalion gala day held at Malsi and in subsequent games in the brigade competition. New-comers to the swimming strength of the battalion in the Treasuries were R. Shepherd and C. N. Chamberlain, both keen water-polo players and swimmers.

In the first brigade carnival held at Falamai on Boxing Day, we filled fifth place in the final results; our team swam well, but was outclassed. On the later brigade gala day, the 36th Battalion won the surf race from Watson Island to Falamai, with a team consisting of R. K. Wood, J. Hanafin, J. W. Clarke, C. N. Chamberlain and R. Shepherd. In the last carnival held in the Treasuries, on 18 April, we made a poor showing, with a number of our best swimmers not available, although R. M. Gurr took a place in the 50 yards, and R. Shepherd came second in the 2.20 yards.

Although the results in competitive swimming were not outstand-ing in the Treasuries, there has been a great improvement in the general standard of swimming throughout the battalion. All com-panies did considerable work in improving their company swimming areas, and excellent stagings and diving boards were erected. The percentage of non-swimmers, quite high in Fiji, was almost negligible in the Treasuries, where it had shown a greater reduction than in any other place we were stationed. And this is probably the best achieve-ment of battalion swimming.

VBoxing

The Auckland Boxing Championships of 1942 were the first in which members of this battalion took part. Nicolle, Huzziff and Bates took part. Nicolle put up a remarkable performance in the first round of the heavy weight, as, after taking a lot of punishment for the first two rounds and most of the third, he knocked his oppori-ent out in the last half-minute. Unfortunately he was not able to box in the second series, as in his first fight he had damaged his knuckles. Huzziff easily won his weight, and the third entrant had the misfortune to suffer injury to his eyes. Altogether it was an auspicious start for battalion boxing.

Norfolk Island was the scene of the first battalion tournament. A hard working committee had gone to a lot of trouble, and the tournament proved that their efforts had not been in vain. All bouts were fought strictly according to Army rules, and the following were the winners of their respective weights:— Heavy WeightE. P. NicolleWelterJ. A. F. RobertsonLight HeavyR. L. ColeLightA. E. BryantMiddleL. F. HuzzifFeatherL. W. Petersen

Following the battalion tournament an island tournament was held open to all units of the force. The battalion had its full share of entrants and of its team the following were successful:— Heavy WeightE. P. NicolleMiddleL. F. HuzzifLight HeavyR. L. ColeFeatherI. W. Petersen

It was not until an island tournament was held on Stirling Island in the Solomons that battalion boxers were again to the fore. Com-petition was here much more severe, mainly due to the competing Americans. C. C. Forbes, L. F. Huzziff and J. L. Rea were the battalion entrants, and of these three Forbes and Rea both reached their respective finals only to be beaten. Rea was unfortunate enough to run into a man very much older than himself and, although he fought pluckily, was soundly beaten. Forbes quickly became a favourite of the crowd because of his tear-away tactics. For a man of 42 his stamina was amazing, and an education to most. Boxing in the Solomon Islands is not easy, and most fighters were obviously tired at the end of the third round, but not so Forbes who at the end of his fights was still on the offensive. Although beaten in the final he lost nothing by the decision, as the result could just as easily have gone his way.

To Captain H. W. Williams and E. P. Nicolle must go much of the credit for what battalion boxers have accomplished.

VISoccer

It was in Fiji that association football became recognised as a battalion sports activity. The first game was played early in March at Samambula Camp, and from then on weekly inter-company games were played. These early games were played on grounds where, one week merely falling over would mean skin off in several places, whereas during the next, one could scarcely move for mud. Later a Brigade Soccer Competition was organised, and the venue was the mission grounds at Nausori, where two comparatively level and well-turfed grounds were available. Some good football was seen, and battalion A and B teams held their own against other units. Perhaps mention should be made also of the Riwa Hotel, popular rendezvous for players after a game, where more games were lost and won over a glass of iced beer.

When we played a team from HMS Leander we struck very different opposition from anything previously experienced. Several of the Leander's players had been members of first-class English teams before the war, and the first five minutes' play showed what we were up against. Beamish, captain of the Leander team, delighted the spectators with an exhibition of soccer at its best. We considered it no disgrace to be beaten by such a team—0-7. On a return match with the Leander team we held them down to a 3-0 win. Our team exploited the 'kick and rush' tactics so beloved of English Cup finalists, and succeeded in upsetting the planned football of the sailors.

Another interesting match was against the Suva Indian team, winners of the Fiji championship at Lautoka in 1941. The Indians demonstrated that their standard of play was comparable to that of the Indian hockey team. Sheer speed—for they were all slim, almost frail youngsters—overwhelmed our team, which had to be content with the wrong end of a 4-1 decision.

Playing conditions on Norfolk Island were more suitable than the tropics, though the grounds were poor. Bailey's paddock, our main ground, tested the players' capabilities to the full—the folds in the ground, including one four feet deep, often resulted in players disappearing completely from view!

A competition was organised involving two teams from the 36th and several teams from other units on the island. At the close the battalion A team was still unvanquished, while the B team suffered defeat only in their encounters with the A team.

In New Caledonia a brigade competition was organised, and soon inter-unit games, together with the company games on Wednesdays were in full swing. Here also many very rough grounds were encountered, and many a member of the battalion team will remember one ground in particular with grass which was knee-deep.

Nevertheless we had a successful season in New Caledonia, and lost to only three teams during the season. The best match of all was that in which a very strong field regiment was defeated by three goals to one.

There are quite a few of the battalion's soccer players who played alike in Fiji, Norfolk and New Caledonia, notably E. Harwood (captain in Fiji and Norfolk), A. Niven (vice-captain in Norfolk and captain in New Caledonia), G. Batstone, C. Cardie, A. Pink-stone, and A. McGrath.

During the course of the soccer activities several officers did their share in making each game a success, including Mr. Steggles in Fiji and Norfolk, and Mr. Utting and Mr. Hutchinson in New Caledonia. Mention must also be made of the help of the National Patriotic Fund Board who, by the supply of the necessary gear, enabled the team to look spick and span.

All in all, players and officials of the team co-operated to the fullest, and the games were thoroughly enjoyed and played in the best of spirits.

Chapter SixteenUnit Biographies

Lieutenant-Colonel J. W. Barry

Lieutenant-Colonel Barry was on active service overseas with the Rifle Brigade during the last war for nearly three years. Joined the New Zealand Staff Corps. Was area officer at Wanganui when present war began. Left for Trentham in mid-October 1939, when he organised training staff there for Second NZEF. Went on a special mission to French Oceania. Formed and temporarily commanded Second Battalion Tanks. Formed the 36th Battalion and commanded it in Fiji, Norfolk and New Caledonia. Commander of N Force on Norfolk Island.

Lieutenant-Colonel K. B. McKenzie-MuirsonMC And Bar

Served with Australian Military Forces 1914-18 on Gallipoli from landing until last lighter left on morning of 20 December 1915. Commissioned at Anzac. Subsequently organised and commanded 15th Machine Gun Company, AIF. Awarded MC on the Somme and a bar at Passchendale. Mentioned in dispatches five times. Subsequently transferring to the Indian Army. Saw action on the Indian frontier during the Afghan war. At beginning of this war was appointed to a training unit in Trentham. Held various staff positions in Central Military District. Commanded First Battalion New Zealand Scottish Regiment, and finally the 36th Battalion in the successful attack and capture of the Treasury Islands group in the Solomons.

Lieutenant-Colonel B. H. Pringle

Service with Mounted Rifles from 1924-41. Commissioned with the Wellington-East Coast Mounted Rifles in 1926. Captain with Manawatu Mounted Rifles from 1933-37. With the Wellington-East Coast Mounted Rifles from 1937-41. Enlisted for overseas service in September 1939. Captain with the Second Battalion Tanks in September 1941. In December 1941, went to 36th Battalion with rank of major as second-in-command. Became CO of battalion with rank of Lieutenant-Colonel in December 1943.

Warrant-Officer 1st Class R. A. Arkless, RSM

Warrant-Officer Arkless was appointed Regimental Sergeant-Major of the battalion at its inception in December 1941, and remained in this position until invalided home in July 1943. During this period, which was largely spent in training for a more active role, the battalion benefited greatly by his many years of army experience.

Enlisting at the beginning of 1915 he served in France with the British Army, and took part in the battles of the Somme, St. Quentin, Ancre, Messines, Cambrai, Nieuport, third battle of Ypres and second battle of the Somme. Taken prisoner early in 1918, he was repatriated early in 1919. He was on service in India from 1919 to 1923 with the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders. He came to New Zealand in 1926, and with the outbreak of war again in 1939 he joined the Second Echelon, being transferred to the New Zealand temporary staff early in 1940. It was this rich experience of soldiering which was placed in the service of the 36th Battalion when he became its RSM.

To his WOs and NCOs, Warrant-Officer Arkless was always a friend in need, always ready to give advice when needed, a firm but fair administrator of discipline at all times. It is in a large part due to his efforts and to the fine example which he set that the battalion attained such a high standard of efficiency.

Corporal D. W. Forsyth Killed in action

Corporal E. N. Noonan Killed in action

Corporal B. B. Quinn Killed in action

Private P. G. McLennan Killed in action

Private E. S. Cripps Killed in action

Private D. C. Hanson Killed in action

Private M. Weaver Killed in action

Private I. A. McMeekan Killed in action

Private S. G. Wilkins Killed in action

Sergeant W. A. Collins Killed in action

Lieutenant G. McL. Blyth Accidentally drowned

Corporal W. G. Biggar Died in Fiji

Lance-Corporal C. F. Hodder Died on Norfolk Island

Private J. Nash Died on Norfolk Island

Private J. D. Taylor Died in New Caledonia

Corporal P. E. Swarbrick Died on Norfolk Island

Chapter SeventeenFor Gallantry

The following awards were given in recognition of the gallantry displayed in operations against the enemy during the action in the Treasury Islands.

Military Cross: Second-Lieutenant L. T. G. Booth

At approximately 1030 hours on 27 October 1943, he took part in the assault on the Japanese headquarters. At this time, the beach and the LSTs were being subjected to very heavy and accurate mortar fire from a high ridge west of the Saveke River. Casualties were being suffered by the unloading parties and the unloading operations on the beaches were in danger of being disorganised. Second-Lieutenant Booth was ordered to attack and capture the mortar posi-tion. Only a general indication of the direction from which the fire was coming could be given. Second-Lieutenant Booth led his platoon up a very steep ridge in face of heavy machine-gun fire and rifle fire.

Although the enemy was in considerable force on this ridge, Second-Lieutenant Booth succeeded in driving the enemy from the ridge and captured two 75 mm howitzers which had also been shelling the beaches. Both guns' barrels were hot when taken. Realising that the enemy still had a mortar in operation higher up on the ridge, Second Lieutenant Booth left one section to hold the gun positions and pushed on up the ridge.

After an advance up a very steep ridge the platoon encountered a strong position surrounding the mortar. Despite being outnumbered, a determined attack was made on the enemy with tommy guns and grenades and the position was captured. The enemy fled, leaving ten dead around the position.

With the mortar was approximately 500 rounds of mortar ammunition and a large quantity of grenades and small arms ammunition. One light machine-gun was also captured. Second-Lieutenant Booth destroyed the mortar and howitzers and withdrew. His platoon suffered seven casualties, wounded, in this action. Second-Lieutenant Booth showed himself an officer of outstanding courage and initiative and the successful termination of the unloading of the LSTs was due in no small measure to his action.

Military Medal: Corporal F. A. Armstrong

On 5 November 1943, Corporal Armstrong, as a member of a fighting patrol from his battalion, was acting as a point scout with Sergeant Ilala, a native guide, when a Japanese fired at Sergeant Ilala. The native sergeant's rifle jammed when he tried to return the fire, but Corporal Armstrong ran toward the Japanese and shot him at close quarters. The Japanese was not killed, however, and fell down a cliff; and in following him a strong Japanese party armed with one light machine-gun, rifles and grenades was discovered in a series of caves on the sea shore. In the ensuing action, in which ten Japanese were killed and one captured, Corporal Armstrong displayed an absolute disregard of personal safety and by his courage and leadership inspired his section.

One of the enemy was hidden in a cave from which he was able to shoot and kill Sergeant Baird. Fire could not be brought to bear on him and when grenades were thrown into his cave, he scooped them out. Corporal Armstrong then took two grenades, and crawling down the cliff to a little ledge above the cave, he pulled the pin from a grenade, held it for three seconds and then tossed it into the cave. He repeated this with the second grenade and then jumped into the cave to find the Japanese dead. Had it not been for Corporal Armstrong's action, the casualties suffered by the patrol would in all probability have been heavier.

For Distinguished ServiceMilitary Cross: Captain K. E. Louden

Captain Louden has ably commanded his company at all times. He commanded it during the landing on Mono Island on 27 October 1943, when it landed on the left flank in the face of machine-gun fire. The main enemy force on the island was then across the Saveke River. Captain Louden personally lead his company across the river in an encircling movement, driving the enemy from their headquarters area on to the hill.

He then held with his company an extended and difficult defensive position for five days. During this time, his company withstood the greater part of the enemy's attempts to penetrate the brigade perimeter during the nights. In the day time and later at Malsi, he organised and personally led patrols in order to locate the enemy. At all times he set an example of courage and leadership.

Chapter EighteenRoll of Honour

Killed in Action

Treasuries Major J. J. G. Britland. Second-Lieutenant E. G. Williams. Sergeant W. R. Baird. Sergeant H. Gregory. Corporal D. W. Forsyth. Corporal E. N. Noonan. Corporal B. B. Quinn. Private E. S. Cripps. Private D. C. Hanson. Private P. G. McLennan. Private I. A. McMeekan. Private J. L. Nohelty. Private M. Weaver. Private S. G. Wilkins.

New Georgia Sergeant W. A. Collins (ex 36th Battalion). Sergeant G. Conn (ex 36th Battalion).

Italy (ex 36th Battalion) Private J. Aldersly. Lieutenant J. D. Bedingfield. Sergeant D. W. Lange. Corporal E. A. Major. W.O.II R. J. Rough. Private A. I. Roulston. Private J. D. Sanson. Private C. G. Watson.

Died on Active Service

Fiji Lieutenant G. McL. Blyth. Corporal W. G. Biggar. Private R. B. Parsons.

Norfolk Island Corporal P. E. Swarbrick. Lance-Corporal C. F. Hodder. Private J. Nash.

New Caledonia Private J. D. Taylor.

Egypt Major O'Brien, N.Z.M.C. Private J. L. Peebles.

For the Fallen Now singing days are over; scattered, song And singer lie Silent, as silent as the crosses are At Falamai. Pohutukawa sprinkles blood to some North Auckland beach, Too distant now for these our homeless dead Ever to reach. No little thing is life, and brave the breath That parts the lips. Can more be given to the scales before The balance tips? Weigh this; the greater loss and death of all, Should Queen Street see The Bloody Sun displayed, and horror fall On Lambton Quay. Our stream of battle joins the sea of war. Each silent lad Is kin to those who held El Alamein And Stalingrad. The stranger palms shall shed no tenderness, Nor softer sky Be theirs; the more must we stand guard for those At Falamai. —Gordon Watson.

Paradise of the Pacific Islands of tropical magic, whisper of wind through the palms, Moonlight on silvery waters, freedom from care and alarms, Music of soft island voices charm of the Southern seas, Islands of dreams and of romance; tourists will tell you of these. Thunder of deafening barrage, crashing of answering fire, Flashing of guns in the jungle, seeking the planes soaring higher, Rattle of rifle and bren gun, silence of hidden disease. Islands of mud ever-dinging Third Div. can tell you of these. Visions of wonderful beauty, garlands of beautiful flowers, Madness of long clinging kisses whiling away stolen hours, Lilting of soft girlish laughter, humming of birds and of bees. Butterflies bright and gay insects—tourists will tell you of these. Darkness and fear in the fox-hole, tenseness of nerves under strain, Sweating of tired mud-Stained bodies hauling out trucks after rain, Half-stifled groans of the wounded, taint of decay in the breeze, Valour of deep-buried comrades—Third Div. can tell you of these. Tight enclosed track in the jungle, limitless roll of the sand. Snipers that lurk in the darkness, panzers that roar o'er the land, Army and Navy and Air Force, roaming the Seven Seas, All in the cause of New Zealand—History will tell you of these. —G. N. Utting.

Silent Night Now the glow of the sunset has faded, the shadows of night softly creep On a world that is tired from its labours and surely is ready to sleep. So we welcome the hush of the evening and relax in the rest truly earned With never a care for the morrow—that's one of the lessons we've learned. But the peace of the night is soon shattered by the croak of unmusical toads And the whining of gears on the roadway, heavy trucks groaning under their loads And the rumble of stuttering motors, only source of electrical power And the whistle of home-coming fighters—so we put off our sleep for an hour There are night-flying birds in the jungle, harsh cry of the gay parakeet, And a rattle and hiss in the coral, and the scrape of the crab's armoured feet. So we toss and we turn on our bedcots, half-awake, half-asleep as we roll Till we're roused by the roar of the bombers warming up for the early patrol. We look back on advice of our training, and the lessons when first combat-bound 'Whatever you do in the jungle, keep silent and don't make a sound'! —Pronto.

Captain K. E. Louden, MC

Lieutenant L. T. G. Booth, MC

Sergeant F. A. Armstrong, MM

Warrant-Officer R. A. Arkless

Major J. J. G. Britland Killed in action

Second-Lieutenant E. G. Williams Killed in action

Sergeant W. R. Baird Killed in action

Sergeant H. Gregory Killed in action

Operation Order Secret H2 36 BN No To OC—Coy You've joined the army to fight, my lads, to fight for your country dear. In case you may never see a Jap, we'll make the story clear. There's holes to be dug in the coral sand; we'll have to have a well, And in between you can stack, those bombs, and there's all those trees to fell. We have to send a few to Brigade to help them pitch their tents; There's not much beer at the ration dump, but they say they want a fence. Another ship's just in at the dock, unloading day and night; You'll need a guard on the canteen trucks, and the petrol dumps are light; You can send the rest of the company out to the ammunition barge, And send a patrol to Laifa Point—I hear there's a Jap at large. And if there's still a few of them left, they'd better drain the lake. You've joined the Army to work, my lads, so work for your country's sake. Capt Adjutant —Pronto.

Coconut Grove Would you like to go to the movies in the cool of the evening air? There's a jolly good show at the CB camp, but I'm sorry you can't go there. You can catch the barge to Falamai—it's a show you've seen before; You're sure to arrive too late for a seat, but there's always room on the floor. Or take a walk to the Bomber Group, as long as the strip is clear, And in between the roar of planes there'll be a bit you'll hear. As sure as you go too far from home we'll get 'condition red'. So don't forget you old tin hat, lest shrapnel strike your head; And if perchance your luck is out and you're caught in pouring rain By the time you've sweated the long trek home, you're nearly dry again. There's hardly a thing to do in camp, no matter how hard you try, So take a chance at a movie show, out under the starry sky. —Pronto.

Isa Lei(Song of Fiji) Isa Isa, vulagi lasa dina, Nomu lako au sana rarawa kina, Ava beka koya mai cakava, Nomo lako au na sega ni lasa. Chorus: Isa lei—Nanoqu rarawa, Miko sana vodo e na mataka, Bau nonuma, na nodatau lasa, Mai Suva, nonuma tikonga.

(Note.—In Fijian G is pronounced as NG, D as ND, B as MB and C as TH in 'the'.)

The English Words Isa. Isa. You are my only treasure, Must you leave me so lonely and forsaken? As the roses will miss the sun at dawning, Every moment my heart for you is yearning. Chorus: Isa Lei. The purple shadows fall, Sad the morrow will dawn upon my sorrow. Ah, forget not when you are far away Precious moments beside dear Suva Bay. Isa. Isa. My heart was filled with pleasure From the moment I heard your tender greeting. Mid the sunshine we spent the hours together— Now so swiftly those happy hours are fleeting. O'er the ocean your island home is calling, Happy country where roses bloom in splendour. Oh if I could but journey there with you, Then forever my heart will sing in rapture.

Dedication These were our authors:— The broken night and the dawn patrol, The fellowship of the tent, The limping feet and the pounding heart, Fever and punishment, Mud-slobbered trucks and green-painted men, Jesting and salty speech, Letters from home and the grinding barge And the dead on the beach. These were our artists:— The electric storm splitting the skies, The bomber's too lovely moon, Niaouli flat and mangrove swamp And quiet, unrippled lagoon. Phosphorous wake on the black sea, The flitting spark of the firefly, The searchlight's slim fingers, the pattern The tracers tear in the sky. May you be our publishers:— All the brave people of the happier years, Children of the after-time, In the untroubled homes of the new land, Where the steady hills climb, Living amidst the lights, and calm, And looking with level eyes On clean, straight cities and rich fields And kind New Zealand skies. Certainly, you will publish us. —Gordon Watson.

Nominal RollThe 35 Battalion

The following roll which includes both present and ex-members of the battalion has been compiled from those records which have been available to the battalion at the time.

The significance of symbols used is as under;— ∗Original member of Battalion still with Unit on 1/4/44.†Participated in Landing on Mono Island on 27/10/43 as a member of the Battalion.(d)Mentioned in Dispatches.(k)Killed in Action.(w)Wounded in Action.(ak)Killed, or Died on Active Service.

Lieutenant Colonels Barry, J. W. McKenzie-Muirson, K. B., MC and Bar † Pringle, B. H.∗ † Majors Allan, H. F. Allen, W. H. Bell, G. H. † Britland, J. J. G. † (k) Brooks, P. H. Cameron, W. B. Felton, N. E. G. Huse, W. Johnston, A. H. Macarthur, I. H. Marshall, J. R. O'Neill. I. G.∗ † Ross, L. A. S. Tripp, C. W. H., DSO, SS (USA) Webster, N. J. T. Williams, D. C. † Captains Boult, J. E. Britton, B. S. Broad, G. C.∗ † Collins, L. B. Cooper, S. A. Davey, O. G. Dowell, J. A. H.∗ Fitzpatrick. N. I. M.B.E. (d) Galloway, I. T.∗ † Hutchinson, W. J. B. † (w) Lawrence, R. S. Leuchars, W. D. Louden, K. E., MC Iverson, C. E. McKechnie, H. McWilliam, D. J. Orton, D. R. Williams. H. W. Young, D. G. Lieutenants Bedingfield, J. D. † Blyth, G. McL. (ak) Bool, J.∗ Booth, L. T. G., MC † Broad, C. W. (w) Connell, R. W. Fitness, D. T. Flaws, E. M. P. † (w) Fraser, E. W. J. Galloway, J. McD. Gandell, J. W. † Gurr, R. M. Hayter, D. G. Hockey, L. J. Holmes, A. B. † (w) Holmes, T. G. (w) Holmes, P. E. Kerr. H. A. Leatham, D. Liversidge. W. G. T. Martin. N. W. Mitchell, M., M.B.E. Nelson, G. S. Purves, W. G.∗ † Richardson, F. A. † Rogers, A. S. † (w) Russell, W. H. Rutherford, S. L. Ryan, R. L. Seccombe, B. † Shepherd, R. Siddall, A. Smith, P. A. Smith, V. J. C. Soanes, R. B. Steggles, A. G. Stevenson, W. † Tricklebank, W.∗ Utting, G. N. Waugh, H. Wyatt, J. L. Second-Lieutenants Barry, J. R. Fullerton-Smith, A. D. Quill, A. M. Scott, T. N. Williams, E. G. † (k) Williams, F. E., SS (USA) Warrant-Officers 1st Class Arkless, R. A. Carroll, F. A.∗ † Warrant-Officers 2nd Class Armstrong, S. C.∗ † Bradford, C. R. † McCluggage, W. J. Morris, J. B. Rough, R. J.∗ † Tinkham, A. G. † Welch, T. C. ∗ Woolston, H. C. Staff-Sergeants Cairns, J. D. † Clarke, J. S.∗ Goodman, R. F. A. Guthrie, I. R. G.∗ † Kurta, S. J. Thomas, M. J. G. Wild, C. C. Sergeants Armstrong, F. A., MM. † Ashman, H. W. Avery, M. D. Baird, W. R. † (k) Bentley, E. J.∗ † Blake. I. G. Canty. L. J.∗ † Chamberlain, C. N. Collins, W. A. (k), (d) Conn, W. G. Cotter, G. H. Dockary, R. P. Duurloo, R. A. W. Eaton, D. H. Falconer, H. D. Feather, G. Fenwick, F. Foster, G. D. (w) Gemmell, A. Glen, B. G. Gregory, H. † (k) Harcourt, J. M. Harp, T. L. Hartley, G. † Hill, C. R. † Hutchings, A. W.∗ † Hutchinson, V. R. G. Jackson, L. V. Johns, G. W. I.∗ Knight, C. L.∗ Lissington, R, G. Lowe, C. M. McCallum, D. † MacDonald, I. MacKenzie, A. F. McMaster, D. S. Marshall, C. A. Martin, A. C. † (w) Mitchell, W. C. Montgomery, H. E.∗ † Murphy, D. R. L.∗ † Ness, J. L. D. Pharazyn. N. C.∗ † Pindar, G. B. † Plowman, H.∗ † (w) Purdy, R. E.∗ † Raven, R. N. Renshaw, B. S. Rowland, G. R. Ryan, J. O. F. Schumacher, C. A. J. † Smith, D. C Smith, I. H. Smith, W. McL.∗ † Somerville, R. K. Stallard, C. K. Stevenson, R. W. Stewart, S. L.∗ † Taylor, D. P.∗ Thomas, R. E.∗ † Trigger, W. H. † Turnbull, T. A. Webby, N. R. Wheatcroft. A. E.∗ † Witcher, A. C. Wood, L. M.∗ † Lance-Sergeants Adolph, A. J.∗ † Baty, N. A.∗ † Brader, J. A. Claasen, O. A. † Darling, C. M.∗ † Donnelly, J. A.∗ † Jackson, E. Lehndorf, A. C. McGrath, A. Morice, D. M. † Newell, V. J.∗ † (d) Corporals Aim, S. A. Barber, F. E.∗ Barr, J. F.∗ † Bedford, L. H. Bennett, A. G. † Benson, F. C.∗ † Biggar, W. G. (ak) Bogue, T. L. K. Bourke, S. H. Bradley, K. Brown, H. G.∗ † (w) Bruce, F. W. Cameron, R. B.∗ † Cartwright, M. R. J. ∗ † Chilton, R. M. ∗ † Clapham, E. T. † Clark, W. A. Clibborn, E. H. ∗ † Connor, W. J. ∗ † Cooke, L. H. Coory, F. Dawson, C. H. ∗ † Dempsey, J. G. Dick, A. M. ∗ † Eccleshall, R. G. A. ∗ Elbourn, H. J. Finlayson, C. M. Fleming, D. S. ∗ † Forsyth, D. W. † (k) Gair, M. Gallagher, J. A. Hair, D. Hancock, G. A. Hand, J. J. Harris, E. C. ∗ † Hartnett, M. E. Haverbier, B. O. F. † Hill, F. M. Hughes, G. R. Jack, R. A. Jeager, E. P. Johnston, N. G. A. Julian, L. G. Kirkham, E. W. ∗ † Langford, T. A. Lange, D. W. C. Lineham, C. W. ∗ Lowe, J. T. ∗ † McAllum, O. McClimont, H. G. M. McKay, R. E. J. † MacLaughlan, M. E. ∗ † McMahon, L. Mantell, C. H. Marr, J. T. Meek, L. L. ∗ † Miller, N. B. Nash, W. E. Nieper, R. W. † Noonan, E. N. (k) Osborne, W. H. Patterson, R. M. Petersen, I. W. Quinn, B. B. † (k) Radford, C. A. Rendle, A. E. Ritchie, R. ∗ † Rose, A. H. Rosewarne, L. B. H. Sanson, J. D. Smith, R. L. ∗ † Smythe, T. F. E. Starr, R. W. Stowell, A. G. Swarbrick, P. E. (ak) Symon, W. C. B. ∗ † Talbot, C. V. Tanner, L. W. J. ∗ † Thomas, A. P. ∗ † Turkington, D. A. ∗ † (w) Turnbull, D. G. Tutty, G. H. F. Underwood, E. H. ∗ † Vercoe, G. F. † Welch, L. A. ∗ † Wards, M. Williams, J. E. ∗ Williams, L. R. † Wolstenholme, J. ∗ † Woolhouse, A. R. Young, W. A. D. † Lance Corporals Anderson, J. E. ∗ † Anderson, R. J. Anderson, R. W. ∗ † Andrews, M. D. ∗ † Batstone, E. G. Bickford, D. H. Bolton, F. A. Burling, R. J. † Campbell, N. J. F. Cardie, C. A. M. ∗ † Charters, J. G. † Clark, K. G. Coughlan, J. W. † Coutts, J. C. Day, F. H. Dimmock, G. W. P. † Ellis, H. J. ∗ † Francis, W. G. Futcher, A. A. Gibson, J. A. Hanafin, J. D. † Henshaw, W. Henshilwood, G. G. Hodder, C. F. (ak) Hopkins, L. G. Howard, N. W. ∗ † Huntington, J. Innes, A. Isdale, A. W. ∗ † Jordan, R. W. Kier, J. E. ∗ † Kells, W. V. Keoghan, N. L. King, R. H. Laidlaw, A. Lanauze, D. (w) Lawn, R. G. ∗ Lees, R. R. ∗ † Lynn, L. A. (w) † McBeth, D. V. MacDonald, J. MacKenzie, B. C. Major, E. A. Milne, A. L. Morrell, R. R. S. ∗ † Mulinder, E. J. ∗ † Newman, D. R. ∗ Old, D. M. † Orr, R. M. Prendergast, J. L. T. ∗ Priestley, A. Ritchfield, K. J. † Russell, A. R. ∗ † Sargeson, B. P. Scown, N. J. Sexton, R. J. Shaw, R. A. H. † Sims, N. M. ∗ † Sinclair, J. A.∗ Small, K. J.∗ † (w) Smith, W. E. ∗ Squires, A. R. Spearing, J. F. Stroud, A. V. Tall, C. W. Taylor, R. E. Tempter, M. D. ∗ † Trafford, E. ∗ † Tresize, W. H. ∗ Udy, C. J. Wagner. B. K. † (w) Ware, T. R. (w) Wiley, R. J. Williams, A. R. † Wilton, I. F.∗ † Privates Adams, A. H. Adams, G. C. Adams, P. B. Adams, W. E. B. Aldersley, J. H. ∗ † Alderson, W. ∗ † Aldridge, M. B. Alexander, R. I. Allen, G. E. Allen, G. R. Alley, C. R. Alley, M. I. Amoore, L. S. Alloway, F. B. Anderson, D. M. † Anderson, H. ∗ Anderson, I. H. † (w) Anderson, S. C. ∗ † Anderson, S. G. R. Andrew, E. H. C. Andrews, D. B. H. Andrews, N. Annison, T. † Ansin, D. S. Archbold, D. J. W. Archer, L. E. Armistead, V. August, L. P. August, T. J. T. Bacon, S. C. Bailey, H. C. Bailey, H. F. ∗ † Baker, C. A. Baker, C. L. Baker, L. (w) Baldwin, L. B. Ballantyne, B. Bamford, A. E. Barlow, H. S. C. Barnett, C. E. † Barr-Brown, H. † (w) Barrett, J. T. Batchelar, O. L. Batchelar, R. M. Bates, J. P. Bathhurst, A. G. Baxter, H. E. G. Baynes, M. G. ∗ † Beattie, I. A. Beattie, J. G. Begbie. A. T. ∗ † Bell, E. J. T. † Bennett, N. Benseman, A. E. ∗ † Benseman, J. E. † (w) Blackmore, J. R. ∗ Black, H. Blood, G. L. Bonney, L. O. Booth, A. S. † Booth C. H. ∗ † Booth, J. B. Bourdot, H. T. ∗ † Bourke, J. J. Bousie, B. H. Bovis, E. E. ∗ † Bowcock, A. M. Bowden, C. L. Bowie, M. A. J. Betten, G. H. † Biddle, E. W. E. † (w) Biesiek, A. Birss, C. Birt, D. Bishop, N. F. ∗ † Boyce, D. R. Boyer, C. G. T. Braddell, C. J. Braddick, G. H. Bradley, R. E. Braid, A. T. Braidwood, D. A. Brears, H. J. Brehaut, W. D. Brenton, A. R. Brett, G. Bridger, A. R. Briggs, A. W. † Brisco, L. J. † (w) Broad, A. R. Broadbent, D. B. Broderick, A. R. Brogden, G. † Brophy, T. N. Brough, H. G. Brown, C. A. Brown, C. D. Brown, C. T. Brown, M. R. C. Brown, R. W. Bryant, A. E. ∗ † (w) Bryant, K. J. ∗ † Buchanan, A. S. Buchanan, J. Buckley, F. R. Buckthought, S. E. Buddicom, A. G. † Bull, J. L. Bunning, D. H. Burn, J. C. † Burnand, E. J. Burnett, R. Burns, G. E. V. Burtles, L. Burton, L. G. ∗ † Bush, C. G. † Butchart. K. D. Butler, R. H. Butler, R. H. M. Byron, C. G. Calcott, C. F. Calvey, J. B. Cameron, B. Cameron, W.∗ Campbell, G. T. † Campbell, P. E. Camwell, G. H. W. ∗ † Caple E. R. Carr, B. J. Carr, L. W. ∗ † Carrig, P. J. Carrodus, J. H. Carruthers, B. V. Carter, C. C. † Carter, H. G. Casey, P. W. ∗ Castle, L. W. Cate, C. J. † (w) Chapman, F. J. Chapman, F. R. Chappel, L. Chappell, T. H. † Charman, G. ∗ † Chatterton, C. V. † Cherry, B. C. G. † Chesterman, R. K. Chilcott, R. J. Chinnery, A. Chittenden, B. K. † Chittenden, D. H. † Clareburt, V. B. † Clark, W. G. Clarke, J. W. ∗ † Clarke, L. D. Clarke, N. W. Clarkson, R. M. ∗ Cleaver, T. ∗ † Clelland, M. W. Clements, W. A. Cochran, M. R. ∗ † Cogan, L. P. Coira, J. V. Coldstream, L. U. Cole, R. L. ∗ † Collins, M. J. Compton, T. Cook, A. C. Cook, G. H. Cooper, A. Cooper, J. R. Corkill, S. D. Corlett, H. † (w) Corney, L. Costello, H. L. L. Coulson, R. A. Coupland, R. W. Courtney, J. C. Cowan, R. Cowley, J. W. ∗ † Cox, H. W. † Craig, J. H. Cramond, R. V. Cranefield, W. J. Crean, J. P. Cripps, E. S. † (k) Cripps, K. L. (w) Crooks, J. J. Croskery, C. L. M. Croton, J. R. Crudis, F. L. ∗ † Cruickshank, G. I. ∗ Cudby, D. D. ∗ † Cumberbeach, H. R. Cummings, G. W. ∗ Cunliffe, E. J. B. Currie, G. B. Curry, J. B. Cursey, A. J. ∗ Cutforth, A. S. † Dacombe, C. C. Dahlenburg, J. P. † Daisley, B. R. Dalziel, G. R. ∗ Dare, L. Davenport, G. Davey, C. Davidson, K. A. †. (w) Dawson, J. E. † Dawson, K. J. Day, G. S. Dee, J. D. ∗ † Dell, J. F. W. Dempsey, T. G. H. Densem, E. S. Dernehl, E. H. V. Devlin, M. J. Devonport, F. W. Dick, W. G. Dickey, L. B. Dimmock, W. J. Dixon, H. K. ∗ † Dobson, R. R. Dodd, E. N. Dodd, K. J. Doherty, J. T. Donaldson, A. D. Donaldson, W. D. Donovan, M. H. Dowling, W. † (w) Downes, H. E. P. Downey, T. Drayton, P. A. † Duignan, E. R. Duncan, A. Duncan, J. W. Dundon, M. W. Dunlop, R. G. † Dunshea. L. C. Dykes, D. Eade, K. L. ∗ † Edgar, W. Edginton, B. O. Edward. R. F. Edwards, A. T. Edwards, C. E. Eggers, T. H. (w) Ellery, B. G. Ellis, T. W. Emmett, T. P. Enright, R. L. † Estreich, R. J. ∗ Evans, J. Everett, C. Evers, J. Ewing, A. R. T. Eynon, J. Fahey, M. P. Fairclough, J. T. ∗ † Fairweather, E. J. ∗ † Falck, G. B. Fama, R. B. A. † Fanthorpe, R. A. J. ∗ † Farr, E. Feaver. J. P. Feck, H. Fehsenfeld, A. E. Fifield, B. V.† Findlay, E. C. Findlay, H.∗† Finlay, E. G. Finlayson, L. C. Fisher, L. C. Fitzgerald, N. H. Fitzgibbons, T. L. Fitzwater, C. H. Flanagan, T. G. Flavell. L. H.† Fletcher, A. E.† Fletcher, J. H.† Fleming, A. J. Fleming, D. Fleming, D. Flood, H. F.† Flood, S. M. Flynn, J. M.∗† Fogarty, A. W. Foley, P. 0.∗† Foley, W. L.† Folwell, W. J. Forbes, C. C. Forbes, D. Forne, J. E. Foster, C.† (w) Foster, R. E.∗ Fowke, F. Franks, C. H. Franklyn, L. D.† Fraser, R. W. Frederick, M. E.∗† French, H. G.∗† Frew, M. W. Frith, F. H.∗† Fuller, J. L.† (w) Galbraith, J. B. Galloway, G. W.∗ Geange, T. E.∗† Gibbs, R. W. J.† Gibson, W. T. Gilbert, F. J. Gilder, W. J. E.† Gill, K. Gillies, D. A.† Gilligan, E. J.† Gilmore, J. A. Gilmour, A. J. Gilmour, W. R.∗† Glass, J. Glover, T. N. Godfrey, M. R. Gold, J. R. T. Golding, A. J. Goldsbury, B. Goodin, O. J.† (w) Gordon, D. T. Gordon, N. W. Gordon, W. R. Gore, J. N. Goss, R. A. C.∗† Gover, F. G. Gowans, R. G. Greaves, L. E.† Greer, E. A. Green, L. G.t Gregory, F.† (w) Grice, W. H. Groufsky, A. J. Grumball, C. W.† (w) Guiness, G. W. V.† Gunn, B. Hackett, J. Hale, E. T. ∗† Hamilton, I. R. Hamilton, N. H. Hammond, G. H. L. Hancock, F. P. Hancock, J. I. Hanrahan, J. Hansen, D. C.† (k) Hardy, J. P. Hare, H. C.∗† Hargreaves, V.† Harland, T. W. Harnett, E. V.∗ Harold, T.∗† Harrison, R. L. Harrold, C.∗† Harper, B. Harper, C. W. Harper, W. P. Hart, P. E.∗† Hartgill, W. H. Hartland, T. J.∗† Harvey, H. J.∗ Harvey, M. E.† Harwood, E. T. Hastings, W. R. Hawthorne, A. D.† Haycock, R. W. Hayes, W. M.∗† Hayes, C. A. Heap, M.∗† Hennessy, D. Hermansson, H. E.∗† Hickey, M. J.∗ Higginson, G. Hight, R. L.† Hill, G. McA.∗ Hill, H. R.∗† Hillyer, L. J.∗† Hinsley, E. E. Hitchman, J.† Hobbs, R. A.† Hockey, T.† Holdem, W. J. Hollands, L. C. Holmes, H. E. Honey, G. E. B. Honeyman, A. E. Hood, J. Hooper, C. J. Hooper, E. A. S.† Hooper, J. B. Hooper, K. W.∗ Hooper, N. C. Hooper, D. E.∗ Hopkins, E. R. Hopkins, L. Hopping, B. A.† Horgan, J. M.∗† Horne, H. A. Hoski.ng, D. H. Hosnell, C. H. Hosnell, L. J.∗t Houston, W.∗† Hughes, R. O. Hunt, S. L. Hunter, J. D.∗† Hutching, H. K.∗ Hutchinson, J. Huxford, A. J.† Huzziff, L. F.∗† Hyde, L. R.† Hyde, R. R. Imlach, G.† Isaac, I. E. W. Jacobs, L. G. Jackson, N. M. Jackson, W. D.† Jamieson, F. R. Jeffery, A. N.∗† Jeffery. S. W.∗† Jenkins, A. A.∗† Jenkins, V. J.∗† Jesson, F. A.∗ Jewiss, D. R. Johansen, C. W.† Johnson, A. C.† Johnson, A. J. Johnson, F. H. Johnson, S. R. Johnston, J. P. Johnston, N. F. Johnstone, V. H. Joiner, S. A. Jones, A. J. Jones, C. R. Jones, L. G.† Jones, S. W.† Jopp, J. W. Jordan, L. C. E. Judd, D. J. Jury, T. L. Kane, T.∗† Karalus, G. M.∗† Karst, S. A. Kearns, S. Keats, T. F. Kelly, B. L.∗† Kendall, D. H. Kendall, H. J. Kennedy, E. W. Kennedy, G. A.† Kennedy, J. F. Kennedy, L. S.† Kemsley, C. W. Kernot, G. K. Kilmister, J. K. Kimpton, N. King, L. E.† King, S. J. Knight, R. C.∗† Kyle, A. S. Lamb, R. C.† Lamond, D. E. Lane, L. R.† Langdon, H. Langton, C. Lankshear, J. E. C.∗† Larsen, C. R. Larsen, M. R. Larsen, P. L. Latham, K. G.† Latimer, L. H.† Laurer, V. I.† Laurie, E. G. Lavery, S. F.† Lavender, O. R.† Law, E. Law, G. D.† Law, W. M. Lawlor, J.† Lawrence, J. E.∗ Lawrie, W.∗† Lawson, R. J.∗† Lawton, R. G. Leigh, D. H.† Leitch, B. A.† Leslie, L. E.∗† Lett, D. M. Lewis, A. L.† Liggett, A. G. H. Lile, W. J.∗† Lindsay, H. K.† Lissaman, A. S. Lister, N. C.∗† Lister, R. H.† Littlejohn, N. W. Lloyd, D. K.∗† Lloyd, R. D. Logan, R. J. Logan, T. A. Lomas, L. C.† Long, C. R. Lovelady, J. Lovett, T.∗† Loye, N. G. Lucas, L. C. Lynds, G. J.† Lyon, T. Lyons, H. M. McAnulty, D. R. McCallion, J. W. McConnell, N. J. McCormick, N. W. B.† McCracken, D. H. McCreanor, J. P. McCullum, M. S. McDonald, A.† McDonald, A. H. MacDonald, C. McDonald, C. P. McDonald, D. M.† McDonald, H. E. McDonald, H. E. G.∗† McDonald, J. A. MacDonald, L. McDonald, J. H. McDonald, W.∗ McFall, R. P. McFarlane, H. J.∗† McGhee, A. P. McGregor, A. D. Mcintosh, R. W.† (w) Mclntyre, S.∗† McKay, A. C.∗† McKay, J. D.† McKechnie, F. J. D. McKenzie, D. R.† McKenzie, J. P. McKeown, R. J. McKinnon, R. McLachlan, J. C.∗† McLaren, I. A. McLean, R. A.† McLennan, P. G.† (k) McMahon, E. R.† McMeekan, I. A.† (k) McMillan, A. McMillan, H. G. McMillan, L. J.† McNall, J.∗† McNeill, W. H. McNeill, C. R. McNish, R. W.† MacQuarrie, D. MacQuibban, G.† McRae, G. O. McSwigan, I. J.∗† McVey, M. R.† McVey, N. H. T.† Mace, D.∗† Mackie, W. A.† Maginess, C. S. Magnussen, W. F. Maine, K. F.† Malcolm, J. L.† Mann, C. F.† Mann, N. Marris, J. A. Marsh, J. A.† (w) Marsh, R. G. Marshall, A. O. Marshall, E. Marshall, E. J. Marshall, G. F. Marshall, J.† Marshall, R. J.† (w) Martin, C. Martin, J. J. Martin, W. Marx, E. A.∗† Mason, C. A.∗† Mason, G.∗† Mather, G. A. E. J. Matthews, A. Mattock, L. G.† (w) Maxwell. G. H.† Mayo, G.† Meads, R. L. Mercer, C.∗† Meredeth, A. M. Mexted, L. W. Miles, M. N.† (w) Millar, C. L.∗† Millar, D. H.† Millar, J. Millar, T. B.† Miller, A. M. Miller, R. C. Millman, V. G.† Milne, J. W. Mills, J. Mills. J. E. Missen. L. J. G.∗† Mitchell, A. M. Mitchell, F. C. Mitchell, N. V. Mitchell, P. B. Mitchell, W. J. Mitchell, W. R. Moffat, I. L.∗† Molesworth, C. L. N Moir, L. J. Monk, B. F. Moon, A. H. Moor, T. S.† Moore, W. J.† Moore, W. M.† Moran, G.† (w) Morgan, H. C.∗ Morice, A. C.† Morine, R. P. Morris, C. J. Morris, J. D.∗† Morris, L. V. Morrisson, J. W.† Mowat, J.∗† Muller, J. G.† (w) Murphy, J. B. Murray, T. S. Myocevich, J. C. Nash, J. (ak) Neal, E. W. Nelson, H. J.† Nelson, R. M. J. Nesdale, L. Ness, J. D.∗† Newell, J. J.† Newell, R. L.† (w) Newman, T. F. Nicol, A. W. S. Nicolle, E. P.∗ Nicholson, L. T. R.∗† Nielsen, N. B. Niven, A.† Nixon, G. C.† Nixon, J. H.† Nohelty, J. L.† (k) Nolan, M. G.∗ Norton, G. F.∗† Norton, W.∗† Oates, M. W. O'Brien, T. J. B. O'Byrne, A. C.† O'Connell, C. C.∗† O'Connell, D. J. Odey, E. V.∗† O'Donnell, J. E.† O'Donoghue, J. W.∗† O'Keefe, L. W. Oliver, A. J.∗ Oliver, O. T.† Olsen, C. F. O'Riley, F. Orr, J. Orr, K. W.∗† Orringe, F. T. Orsborn, G. R. Palmer, C. D. Palmer, J. J. Palmer, N. E. Parker, E. L.† Parkhouse, P. J.† Parsons, R. B. (ak) Parsons, H. D. Patchett, C. H.† Patchett, T. C. Paton, I. J. Patterson, D. H.† Payne, J. R.∗ Pearce, E. W.∗† Peat, A. F.† Peebles, J. L.∗† Pendergrast. C. S.† Peters, G. K.† Peters, J. P.† Petersen, G. C. Petersen, P. M. Percy G. L. Perry, F. W. Phillips, A. G.∗† Phillips, E. G. H. Phillips, E. J. Phillips, G. V.† Phillips, S. L. G.† Pickering, J. E.† Pierce, J. C.† Pinkstone, A. V.∗† Pooke, A. J. C.† Poole, D. T. Pooley, J. Pomeroy, R. C. Portch, L. Porter, E. B. Pretious, E. A. Prictor, A. V. Priest, R. T. Pritchard, L. G. W. Pumphry, C. A.∗† Pyne, H. M.∗† Pye, E. Quaife, L. W. ∗ Rae, R.∗† Ramsay, R. C. Rasmussen, A. J.† Rea, J. T.∗† Rea, L. J. Reardon, G. Redward, H. W.∗ Reed, L.∗ Reeves, C. A. R.† Reeves, J. C. Reilly, J. R. F. Reid, J. Rendle, R. M. Rennie, J. Reynolds, R. M.∗† Riordan, J. W. M. Ritchie, W. J.∗† Roadley, H. S.† Roadley, K. D.† Robb, C. W. Robb, J. A.† Robbie, H. A. Roberts, H. J. Roberts, J. L.∗† Robertson, F. R. Robertson, J. A. F. Robinson, A. W. Robinson, G. V. Robinson, H. G. Robinson, I. J.† Robinson, S. J.∗† Rodger, J. W. Roebuck, F. J. I. Rogers, E. C. Rolfe, R. R. Roulston, A. I.† Rouse, N.† Rowe, E. N.† Roy, J. R. Rudings, A. H. Russell, A. T. D.∗ Russell, G. E. Russell, J. G.† Russell, R. W.∗ Rusden, C. N. Rutherford, E. P. Rutland, A. H. G.† Ryan, J. D. Ryan, N. B. P. Ryan, T. K.† Sadler, F. E. Sadler, T. A. Salt, H. F. R. Samson, L. R.† Sandilands, K.∗ Sankey, G. M. Sargent, C. J. Sattler, E. G. Sawyer, L. A. J.† Saxton, P. J. G.∗† Schischka, F.† Schroder, A. T.† Scobie, A. E.† Scobie, R. H. G. Scott, C. N.† Scott, G. D.∗† Scown, E. T. Scrivener, P. Sedon, E. A.∗† Sellwood, A. J. J. Senior, A. M. Seymour, B. J. A.† Sharpe, B. Shea, J. R.∗ Sheehy, M. M. Sherman, E. W. Shirriffs, R. M. Short, F. A.† Sierverts, E. J.† Sigley, J. G. Signal, N. E.∗† Sim, E. P. G. Simmonds, K. L. Simpson, R. E. W.∗† Simpson, V. W. Simson, R. J. Siversen, A. B. Skeen, F. W. Skulander, T. N. Slako, M. Slowley, K. H.∗† Smart, R. A.∗† Smith, D. M. Smith, J. A.† Smith, J. J.† Smith, L. Smith, R. F.∗† Soar, G. H. A.† (w) Sole, J. P.∗† Sotham, R. O. Souter, R. J.† Southee, L. A. Southee, P. R. Spiers, R. S. K. Standing, T. J.∗† Stanley, G. Stanley, J. W. Staple, G. W. Starrk, J. Steadman, R. S.† Stenhouse, J.† Stericker, E. D.† Stewart, G. G. Stewart, H. T.∗ Stewart, I. A. Stewart, M. H.∗† Stiles, E. F. M. Still, J. H.† Stockdale, R. S. Strombom, W. W. D. Stone, W. H.∗ Storey, V. C.∗ Stratton, A. E. W.∗ † Street, J. B. Strong, L. Strong, W. M. † Stuart, A. M.∗ † Stuchbery, G. J.∗ Stupples, O. S. Swetman, F. G. Sullivan, K. Sumner, D. T. Sutherland, I. J. Symon, R. W. B. † Tait, H. R. Taplin, A. W.∗ † Taplin, L. G. Tapp, A. W. Taylor, C. K.∗ † Taylor, E. D. Taylor, E. L. Taylor, H. W. Taylor, J. D.∗ Taylor, J. P. Taylor, L. N.∗ Taylor, N. J.∗ Taylor, W. R. Theobald, D. W.∗ † Third, A. Thomas, A. G. T. † (w) Thomas, G. O. Thomas, J. F.∗ † Thomas, K. E. J. Thomas, K. H. Thomas, O. L. Thorns, W. L. Thompson, C. R. Thompson, C. W. Thompson, L. R.∗ (w) Thompson, N. A. (w) Thompson, T. E. J.∗ † Thompson, W. E.∗ † Thomson, H. J.∗ Thomson, H. L. Thorhurn. D. K. Thome, V. J. Thornhill, E. J. Tiffen, L. A. Tobin, D. W. Tobin, P. J. Todd. J. O.∗ † Todd, L. J. † Tofts, C. L. O. Tohill, G. A.∗ † Tong, C. R. Tootell, G. E. N. † Tourell, H. R. Townley. E. B.∗ † Tozer, E. A. Trainor, E. H. † Trembath, F. S.∗ Trist, E. A. Trotter, C. A. R.∗ † Trumper, R. Tucker, C. D. Tullett, C. F. Tunnicliffe, G. O. L. J. † Tunnicliffe, H. B. Tyson, J. N. † Vanstone, J. D. Veitch, D. W. H. Vickers, B. † Vidulich, G. C. Vowles, E.∗ † Vowles, H. A. Wackrow, A. A. Wackrow, E.∗ Wackrow, J.∗ † Wadams, K. W.∗ Wakefield, C. C. R. Walker, D. R. Walker, F. J. Walker, G. Walker, J. D.∗ Walker, L. W. Walker, R. A. † Walker, W. J. Wall, A. W.∗ Wallace, J. J. Wallace, J. W. † Waller, W. F. † Walsh, J. Walsh, J. P. Walsh. S. E. Wan, N. W. Ward, E. J. Wardell, R. H. Wasley, S. J.∗ Waswo, J. W. Watson, A. S. M (w) Watson. E. Watson, C. G.∗ Watts. G. M. Watts, L. W. Weakley, F. G. Weaver, M. (k) Wells, R. G. (w) Werner, W. K.∗ West J. Whaitiri, J.∗ (w) Wheeler, R. J. Whipps, G. E. White. A. G. White, A. W. Whitford, H. Wiffen, S. H. E. Wilkes, N. M. Wilkin, F. E. Wilkin, M. R.∗ † Wilkins, A. W. G.∗ † Wilkins. S. G. (k) Wills, H. E. † (w) Wills, F. T. (w) Williams, E. L. Williams, H. F. Williams, H. O. Williamson, A. L. Willimott, P. Willis, A. B. † Willis, F. C. Willis, I. C. Willoughby, R. H. Wilson, A. A. † Wilson, J. C. Wilson, J. G.∗ † Wilson, J. K.∗ † Wilson, J. L. Wilson, J. S. Wilson, M. D.∗ Wiltshire, M. H. Withers, A. E. C. Withers, A. L. ∗ † Withey. W. G. Wood, E. R. Wood, E. R. H. † (w) Wood, J. K. Wood, R. K. † Wood, W. E. Wooding, A. E.∗ † Woolford, C. J. Worthington, E. T. † Worthington, H. C. † Wootton, J. H. Wrenn, P. Wright, A. F. M. Wright, D. H. Wyatt, C. A. J. † (w) Wybrow, A. H. Wyley, G. R. J.∗ Wylie, A. E.∗ † Wylie, H. Young, D. Young, N. M. Zohs, V. †

The complete set of unofficial histories of the Third Division, 2nd NZEF IP, is as under:— Artillery UnitsEngineer UnitsDivisional Headquarters, 8th Brigade Head-quarters, 14th Brigade Headquarters, and Divisional SignalsMedical UnitsBase Units, 15th Brigade Headquarters, 1st Scots and Ruahine BattalionsArmy Service Corp UnitsTank Squadron, Ordnance Units and Machine-gun Companies29th Battalion30th Battalion34th Battalion35th Battalion36th Battalion37th Battalion

This Locality Map Indicates the Third Division's Long Lines of Communication in the Solomons and the Landing Dates on the Islands on which Units of the Division were Engaged