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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 for printing and distribution were vested in a Divisional Histories Committee and its editor. All 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.
Set Up, Printed and Bound in New Zealand By
Coulls Somerville Wilkie Ltd. Dunedin - 1945
The pioneer spirit which made New Zealand a nation is not yet dead. If there should be those who lament the decadence of the age, let them read the ensuing record of hard work, done under the most trying of conditions with, in many instances, little or no equipment, and then let them criticise the achievements and the morale of the new race of Pacific Pioneers.
In those years that the locust ate, the 'Coconut Bombers' followed not where glory but where duty led. But they made their effective contribution to the defence of New Zealand, if not always in terms of blood at least in terms of toil and sweat.
And not only so, but for the first time in her history this country is, we may believe, now truly conscious of her vital relationship with and her possible influence upon the Pacific groups. At no other time since Bishop Selwyn's vision of a greater New Zealand has this nation's true destiny been more clearly evidenced.
Is it too much to suggest that engineers and others of the Third New Zealand Division have helped to pave this path to future greatness?
The ancient title of engineer was originally a purely military One and it is only in the last century that the name has been adopted by the members of a civil profession now usually known as civil engineers. The name was previously applied exclusively to the body of men who had charge of the King's 'engines of war' and who were employed in the construction of fortifications Or in duties connected with their attack and defence. Those of us, therefore, who wielded the King's 'engines of war' on Pacific slands, whether those engines were picks, machetes, dozers or iraglines, are proud henceforth to be called engineers, even though ve may lack the accepted civilian professional qualifications of a B.E. (Civil) or an A.M.I.C.E.
Until comparatively recent times fortresses played a predominating part in every campaign Hence it was early found necessary to retain the services of engineers in peace as well as in var. Such men were, therefore kept for the royal service long before the introduction of standing armies. We are, perhaps, rather too modern when we quote Waldivus, chief engineer to William the Conqueror, 1066, as the 'Father of the Engineers'; n fact as the very first CRE.
When Edward the First conducted the war in Wales in 1287 here were 2,000 woodcutters and sappers employed with the army. These men were of the greatest service in making roads, rutting paths through the forest and assisting at the sieges of Welsh strongholds. At the siege of Calais by Edward the Third n 1347, the chief engineer had under him a body of 314 men, composed of masons, carpenters, smiths, engineers, tentrnakers, miners, armourers, gunners and artillery men. The last two had
These details may serve to remind us of the fact that the engineers were the first specialist troops of the army. Tf we are to believe all that we were told on first entering Trentham camp, we are the fount and origin of every other specialist corps— artillery, ordnance, tanks and even air force. Therefore are we all the more correctly termed 'Pioneers.' The history of the Pacific campaigns of 1940-1944 is a true pioneer record. Individual initiative and adaptability to new conditions; the ability to improvise effectively; the detailed co-operation with infantry and other units against the wiles of nature—all clearly illustrated the capacity of New Zealand troops to mould conditions and to make of the wilderness, if not a standing water, at least a habitable spot.
The wide and varied scope of modern army engineering is suggested in the following quotation defining the duties of engineers: 'The function of engineers is to enable the fighting-troops to carry out work which, without the skilled personnel and special equipment of engineers, they would NOT be able to do. It is not the function of engineer units to carry out skilled engineer works entirely by themselves, however. They may require assistance from other units in the shape of carrying parties, working parties or even from civilian sources. Since therefore their strength in a divisional or brigade group is less than 10 per cent, of total strength and demands for their work are wide and continuous, it is essential that other arms learn digging, wiring and the like to relieve engineer units of simpler tasks wherever possible.'
Such a general statement carries many implications varying widely with the conditions and the theatres of war. Summed up briefly our jobs were, in the main, communications, water supply, accommodation and field works. From the story of each company it is evident that we combined in ourselves the distinctive features of field companies with those of army troops companies and workshop units. The nature of the duties assigned' to the Third Division as a whole made this state of affairs inevitable and limited the scope of actual combat engineering. The role of the American engineer battalion was very similar to that of our own,
As for our opposite numbers among the enemy we had practically no contact with them. They had been used in the Solomons area on duties similar to our own, road and airfield construction. But because of our island hopping tactics and the by-passing of their largest concentration on Bougainville we remained in blissful ignorance of the Jap use of engineers in suicide demolition squads and in landing operations. Generally speaking, however, we feel that we have been around and done a few things. 'Dirty work,' of course, as the poet sings, but:
We went where duty and glory led us!
The general was speaking. The perfect blue of the Fijian sky above was reflected in the flying boat base which had once been peaceful Lauthala Bay. The reef beyond Nukulau creamed monotonously. But the general was thinking of another sky, dark with German planes. He was telling us—almost our first official story—of the invasion of Crete; of a blue sky black with Junkers, of the heavens filled with shooting, and of the men down below with no equipment. It was a hint of what might well happen again, for what equipment did we have? But let the pioneers of the 'Pioneers' speak; we, the 18th Army Troops Company, who blazed the trail of the dark blue pugaree and in fact of the whole NZEFIP in more ways than one.
We go back to 1936. It was then that the defence of Fiji was made her own responsibility. Problems of manpower and equipment were, however, so great that at a conference of New Zealand Chiefs of Staff in 1938 it was considered that the island groups of Fiji and Tonga, each approximately 1,000 miles north of New Zealand, should form portion of the outer ring of New Zealand defence in the likely event of war with Japan. It was therefore agreed that New Zealand should assist these groups by the provision of some arms and equipment. This decision was ratified by a Pacific Defence Conference held in Wellington early in 1939 and attended by representatives of the armed forces from all parts of the Empire. New Zealand was to be held responsible for defence along the line Tonga-Fiji-New Hebrides. It is interesting to note that an appreciation prepared by this conference correctly anticipated the moves made by the Japanese two and a half years later.
The strategic value of Suva as' a naval base in the South Pacific is obvious. It is as naturally the outpost for the defence of Australia and New Zealand as Pearl Harbour is for the western coast of the United States. It is a central point where great ocean routes meet, an important cable and wireless station, with a harbour of sufficient depth of sheltered water to accommodate a large fleet. So it was that with the rapid deterioration of the military situation in Europe, and the 10 years' alliance made by
Japan with the Axis powers in 1940, that the decision was taken to engage more actively in the defence of Fiji. As the result of a visit to Tonga and Fiji by the Chiefs of Staff in July, 1940, immediate arrangements were made to send a force to Fiji. Preliminary arrangements were made for the accommodation of some 300 engineer personnel, and later it was decided to establish a
Meanwhile in New Zealand it was rumoured that Churchill, as was only natural, wanted engineers. Everyone was keyed up by the stories of Dunkirk and the engineers were ready to go. The 8th Field Company was formed into two army troops companies, the 18th and 19th. We were all set to sail when, on further deliberations of the Chiefs of Staff, it was decided to attach the 19th Army Troops to the Third Echelon while we, 'the mugs,' were to be sent to Fiji as an adjunct to the newly formed B Force on a construction programme of camp buildings. B Force, consisting of Force HQ, two infantry battalions and a reserve battalion, one field battery, one ASC company, one field company and one field ambulance, with ancillary troops, was embodied in various camps in New Zealand where equipping and training commenced. The force had a final establishment of something over 3,000 men. Because the preparation of camps, prior to the arrival of troops in Fiji, was an urgent necessity the engineers arrived in Fiji within two weeks' time of their formation. 12 October, 1940.
An advanced party was ready with all the work mapped out. Plans had been prepared for such of our more outstanding memorials as the Samambula A and B camps and Borrans, the site chosen for headquarters. With a total strength of eight officers and 280 other ranks we started in. Contracts having been let to local builders also, there were some 500 natives employed during all daylight hours for seven days a week. The Fijian Public Works officials had been most helpful in the earlier arrangements and we found that conditions for working were at least reasonable. There were not many of us at first and the Suva folk welcomed us heartily and opened their homes to us as they were unable to do later on when the full weight of a division descended upon them. Our small company was moreover well divided. We had one section at Nasese where we assisted the PWD in the erection of huts; we had another section 120 miles away at Namaka, and the bulk of the unit centred on a pioneer cookhouse in the guava clumps which were to be Samambula Camp. One by one the huts went up and as they went up we occupied and fitted them. Rudimentary roads began to branch off from the main Suva-Nausori highway, winding around the mango tree
The handful of engineers had their work cut out to make the necessary reticulation with the Suva town water supply. Piping was, of course, in everlastingly short supply. Then, as each hut appeared from the hands of the carpenters, there was electric Aviring to do; there were the necessary conveniences to be arranged for and general digging to be done to clear the muddy areas into the intersecting gullies. A permanent force HQ had to be prepared. Borran's house commanded a grand view and made a comfortable headquarters, though rather a good target for a bomb. We saw to this weakness very early, however, by starting the construction of an underground battle chamber. We unloaded ships —this purely as a side line. In fact as 'accommodation works' were the order of the day we accommodated ourselves to anything that had to be done in order to make Fiji habitable for New Zealanders. In the brief three months that we spent there a big hole was made in the original programme and on 11 January. 1941, we headed back for New Zealand and our postponed trip to the Middle East.
The birthday of the senior Pacific engineer company, the 20th Field Company, coincides with the birthday of that singular body of men known as B Force. B Force and the 20th Field were born on 1 October, 1940, at Papakura. No silver spoon was our lot. From the outset training was limited by the lack of actual engineer equipment, but a solid basis was laid in infantry training and, as the men became acquainted with one another a grand company spirit was built up. Three months of comprehensive bull-ring supplementing the keenness of volunteer recruits was not without its disciplinary toning up, a feature relatively unknown to later, more hurriedly trained reinforcements.
By January, 1941, we were more than ready to go. On the sixth of that month we embarked on the Empress of Russia, arrived at Suva on the ninth and proceeded to Samambula camp, three and a half miles out, to take over from the 18th Army Troops pioneers and the Fijian PWD. One platoon left 24 hours later to take over at Namaka. No sooner, however, had we straightened out the take-over period than the hurricane came to upset our equilibrium. On 20 February, 1941, a hurricane, running at an estimated 110 miles an hour from 1000 hours to 1245 hours, resting for the siesta period, then going again at full blast till 1700 hours, hit Fiji. During the height of the storm two sleeping huts and one large MT building collapsed in B camp, while in A camp the mess hut became dangerous, one hut used as a quartermaster's store collapsed, and many buildings were strained at the corners and warped as a result of the terrific blow. Several months later when the relief force came looking for
By the time that ordnance had replaced some of the fire losses and we had finished clearing up the place it was late May. The Rangatira on 29 May brought the first relief and 60 odd men headed back home to New Zealand. But still we did works and mighty little field engineering training. Of four officers and 138 other ranks at the time in Suva over 100 were engaged on camp
A second relief which came on 21 August, 1941, had had little more field engineer training than the originals. However, it knew how to work. Division of forces between the Namaka and Samambula camps continued, but it became increasingly apparent that with the advent of the Japanese war a stronger grouping was required. On 14 January, 1942, therefore, a further reinforcement having arrived from New Zealand, there came into existence the Western Field Company, under command of Second-Lieutenant M. N. Bishop. This took place on the changing of the 8th Brigade Group into a division. Finally on 6 February, 1942, Mr. Bishop's section was transferred to form, with Major Black as OC, the Field Company, Western Section, under 14th Brigade command. It was later known as the 23rd Field. By a process of dismemberment and reunion the 20th had become the 20th. and the 23rd; and, as twins, each with three officers and 150 other ranks, they continued their workaday existence, squeezing in, as the situation permitted, an occasional titbit of field training.
Then after long agitation for something more suited to the needs of a defence area than two field companies doing a works programme, there appeared towards the end of the Fiji period a third company, scheduled to do works only. This was the primer stage of what was to be, in more spacious days, the 37th Field Park Company. In late May, 1942, a reinforcement draft of four officers and 150 other ranks arrived in Fiji to bring the strength of field companies up to establishment. This draft, after 10 days became officially the 24th Army Troops Company and, having canvassed the non-engineer units for keen workers, finally developed into a lusty child with a total of 194 all ranks—the largest therefore of the three companies in the island. Its equipment was similarly canvassed from such sources as the 20th Field and ordnance, but the greater proportion was obtained from visits President Coolidge, from our island exile.
On return from disembarkation leave we found ourselves among the evergreen of Hilldene macrocarpas and the totaras of Manurewa where our sturdy stock now burgeoned into new and spring-like growth—the Third Division Engineers. Reinforcements from NZE territorial units, who had been carrying out in New Zealand much the same type of work as that done by the older hands in Fiji, began to arrive. To bring units up to war establishment strength of divisional engineers an intake of approximately 50 per cent new personnel was called for. On 2 September the 24th Army Troops became officially the 37th Field Park Company in order to square with rearrangements pending. On 11 September there sprang into mushroom growth at Orford's an entirely new phenomenon, Headquarters 3 Div Engineers.
It was from
From December, 1942, then, we find the engineers in New Caledonia. HQ Div Engineers found a pleasant resting place beside the pool on the Moindah River, adjacent to divisional HQ, and remained there for the Necal duration. The 20th stayed at Népoui for December, then hastened up to pioneer the Taom Valley on 31 December. With the exception of the detachment at Bouloupari they remained there for the rest of the incident, growing gardens and shooting Colonel Dix's cattle and, of course, training. The 23rd, arriving early in January, 1943, ensconced themselves among Néméara's niaoulis, with a belated break at Bonloupari from June to July. They also trained. The 37th Field Park held the fort at Nepoui and unloaded such things as beer and ammunition for the months from January to August, 1943— and trained.
Then one by one we pressed forward to the 'ruthless' war. While advanced parties often preceded the main body the dates which follow here are approximately those on which the different units moved up. Boats and echelons, the units travelled in varied by a week or two.
The last of the field companies, recorded above as the 26th. had been one of the units of the extra brigade which, it was fondly hoped at the beginning of 1943, would bring the strength of the Third Division up to a full three brigade division. It had, after months of vicissitudes, survived to join the division. Survival, however, was attributable to that something extra above WE which the peculiarities of jungle warfare had proved desirable. The increasingly large amount of work called for from engineers in the new amphibious and jungle warfare had been underlined by the Australian experiences in New Guinea. Operations in the Solomons drove home the lesson. It was as a direct result of information there gained that the additional engineer company was sent from New Zealand; and this in spite of the fact that in all other arms except medical the division was kept on a two brigade basis.
The 26th had first seen the light of day on 12 April. 1943, when three officers and 24 other ranks from the Northern Military District units of engineers were mobilized at Papakura. Within days the company had grown to a strength of a company headquarters and two full platoons. Personnel were gleaned from territorial sapper personnel who for the last 18 months had been feverishly defending New Zealand from the Japs. Full strength was brought up by the survival of a complete platoon ex Norfolk on 31 July, 1943. The ever present leave problem had assumed its proper proportions when on 20 September they gathered themselves together again in Guadalcanal. Another two weeks and they were on
Such then, in brief, are the official movements of the company headquarters. Space precludes our enlarging on the flights back from the forward area; on the ambitious airmen who were lucky enough to be allowed to tear themselves away from their 'combat-
De mortuis nil nisi bonum, which put in plain English mentis, 'Concerning the things which are dead and gone let us speak nothing but what is good!'
So many and so varied were the holes dug by engineers in so many and so varied islands that a special section has been devoted to their description. For some sappers the knowledge of these hardly goes beyond the fox-hole stage, but for the old hands there are holes worthy of the name; and at least one company considers that its great memorial was just three extra big round holes. Historically speaking the sappers' job has always been to build saps and we have proved no exception to the historical rule. Armed with gelignite and monobel, with pickaxe, shovel and compressor, we have sapped many a sapper and many an officer. The general principle of action has been aptly summed up as: 'If the enemy doesn't get you, the sappers will.'
Long experience gave the sappers of the 20th Field especially the right to pose as experts on 'holes.' Infantry working parties of the 29th and 34th Battalions did their share of the work in Fiji but where explosives were concerned 'bungin' 'em in and blowin' 'em out' was the special delight of the sapper. On Suva side the 20th began with tunnels for air force reserve petrol, at Tamavua. Small ones 30 feet long and seven feet wide complete with doors were followed by a consignment of 10 more, 100 feet long and 10 feet square. It was a case here of all hands to the compressor. The bulldozer grunted about in a valley of limes, the high whine of the compressors was drowned by the clatter of a dozen airpicks biting into the soapstone, willing hands made lighter work of the heavy going and 'gelly' from being a mysterious and dangerous substance became an entrancing new toy. Not only did this and later work prove invaluable in the
The sappers' prentice picks were now turned to a bigger and still more important job. This was the Sealark Hill tanks, the biggest single work attempted by the engineers in the Pacific period, and a good job, well done. Excavations were begun on 10 November, 1941 for three bulk petrol tanks for the RNZAF. The project required digging in soapstone and rock three pits. 50 to 70 feet deep, one with a diameter of 58 feet and two with diameters of 48 feet. To dispose of the spoil into the muddy arm of Walu Bay the erection of an overhead runway became necessary. A twenty feet high tubular steel erection was therefore put up over the Walu Bay road for that purpose. In spite of doubts, which the designer never shared, it took the strain.
Operations began with the sinking of shafts near the Suva technical school and the simultaneous driving of tunnels from the cliff face near its base. The shafts were then enlarged, chutes were erected at the bottom and the spoil was trucked away as it was taken out from the top. In the bay the pile of spoil became more and more conspicuous to the prospective enemy plane and as the three months scheduled for this burrowing passed the adventures were many and varied. Courts of enquiry were held to account for at least one explosive charge, laid by an Australian, which effectively damaged a civilian's toe some distance away, a corporal's skull, a few Indian chooks, and the culprit's bank balance. Paddy's immortal lament, 'Ma nawz is broaken' was occasioned by an unexpected fall down the hole, but his was not the only crash. One officer, too industriously inspecting, fell down the shaft and suddenly turned up in the spoil at the bottom of the hopper. Sent to hospital with a broken leg, he earned fame as 'Chief scentsor'. The title was well earned by his attempts to gain experience of gas warfare He wore his respirator while reading the more putrid of sapper letters and, developing tinia beneath his plastered foot, unwittingly gave rise to doubts about the efficiency of drains.
Sealark, unhappily, was situated rather too near the main road for comfort. Since the proprieties must be observed, war or no war, it was considered infra dig to appear bare to the waist, even in 95 degrees of heat, Shirts must be worn, we were told. We might cool off in the camp showers at midnight, singing as we cooled, but even our cobbers did not seem to appreciate that. A taxi or two passing below collected lumps of soapstone, an RAF boat newly painted got spatterings of coral, a sapper collected a permanent headache from lumps of tubular steel, and at least one officer nearly collected a passage to glory before a truck of spoil rushing onward to tip itself into Walu Bay. Greatest of all the scoops, a Pleistocene whale's tooth was salvaged from the mud of countless centuries, evidence together with a broken prehistoric egg that, in spite of any suggestion to the contrary, romance still lingers. The job was finished two weeks before schedule and elicited complimentary letters from the air force and divisional headquarters as well as sighs of relief from the midnight shifts.
While the wet-siders grew grey with soapstone on Sealark Hill, battle headquarters and air raid shelter tunnels, the Namaka men, the 23rd, were also engaged on 'holes.' They were no three-holer team but specialised in a multiple type. Of their operations on a Black Rock, harder than Hardrock's, a later chapter gives more intimate detail. They had other feverish compressor tunnelling put into Red Hill Three shifts worked six hours each for some three weeks for this part of the big airfield protective scheme. Underground ADS shelters, 12 in all, timbered and often roofed with flattened tardrums, were a special line. One at least had concreted floors, walls and roof complete and was only excelled by the great underground hospital at Tamavua. This latter work was not wholly engineer, but provided facilities for Dad and the impish Dave, along with Uncle Bill, to poke about the nurses' home with theodolites, while sappers coaxed compressors and tried to stimulate the working parties to corresponding effort. The 24th Army Troops, not to be outdone, added their quota to the air raid underground shelters.
At the same time, smaller holes, too numerous to mention,. were dug from Suva Point to Londoni with preparations to blow up any Jap who might come. With jumping bar, pick shovel, and a little explosive we became more and more expert, our 'hole 'policy being eloquently summed up by a famous Scot. Our Scots-
We mapped our New Caledonian progress with a train of drains, latrines and gonophones. Holes were for once at a discount. But we were warned. Officers returning from the forward area brought back tales of diving into fox-holes while Jap planes strafed the countryside; and, while the padre meditated the chances of cornering us at last and having a real heart to heart talk, we pondered the wisdom of supplying ourselves with entrenching tools. We had practised slit trenches during the big scare in Fiji but the first real fox-holes we found were on Guadalcanal. Arrived there we found them really desirable, and though we did not produce anything much more than a slit trench type at first, we took cover on several occasions from the visits of 'Washing-Machine Charlie.' The shrapnel bogey did not seem to be as wicked as some had asserted and, anyway, it was much more pleasant to linger on the logs at the entrance of the hole, in brilliant moonlight, than to sleep or snooze in the continual droppings of dirt down the neck, the attentions of long-legged swaying insects or the fun of having ants in the ear. Searchlight displays and night fighters on the prowl kept the interest up.
HQ Div Engineers and the 20th, arriving first on
One tough sapper, sleeping nude beneath his net, woke to the din of ack-ack guns and the crump of bombs. He dived for his hole only to be bitten amidships by a snake. They say the snake died. But generally, in spite of the hovering noises overhead, we preferred to curdle up in bed and hope for the best. We could, if the swishing noises got too near, always roll off the camp stretcher and underneath it!
On Mono there was little need for the doleful wail of sirens to make us dig in, but again we found the coral beds none too easy to construct quickly. For our defensive positions against possible Jap infiltration we aimed at allowing room for four comfortably seated bodies, with possible space for two passers-by. Headroom was always a difficulty unless, as in some of the permanent American shelters, one went the whole hog and dug in sufficiently for bed and all. In solid coral, however, this is not easy. In later days on Nissan, when the evening hate against the pigs opened up, the engineers on Red Beach found a hole or two handy, but in other than these few cases we reverted to the well-digging and general holes of the New Caledonian days.
We have much to be thankful for in that, though we may have slept once or twice on Sealark shift at the bottom of the hole, or even dozed off for a few minutes in a fox-hole, we have not had to sleep in any of the holes we dug, except for the short periods of actual combat on Vella and Mono. Last war pattern trenches were left behind on the perimeter defences of Fiji and for sleeping purposes, and indeed for all purposes, we feel that the most useful holes that we have dug anywhere were those in which we interred 'for hygienic reasons' some of the Japs.
As the result of a New Zealand Chiefs of Staff conference in 1938, survey parties from the aerodrome construction branch of the PWD conducted widespread investigations for possible airfields on a large number of islands in the Pacific. After consideration of the information received it was decided that two airfields would be constructed in Fiji and one airfield on Tonga. In August, 1939, construction was commenced on the work in Fiji at the Nandi Field. This drome had four grassed and well drained runways, two of them 800 yards long, and two 1,000 yards long, with all the facilities of an air force station provided. Seaplanes alighting areas at Lautoka and at Lauthala Bay were also constructed, buoyed and lighted at about this time. When the Japs attacked in the Pacific the immediate problem was to convert the existing drome into one suitable for use by Fortress and Liberator bombers. This entiled approximately 600,000 yards of excavation, the formation of two runways up to a mile in length with dispersal areas, as well as the diversion of both railway and roads. In this big job the New Zealand engineers were able to play a helpful part.
There were tall stories circulating in Fiji before the CCU (Civilian Construction Unit) appeared. We had heard that fabulous amounts were being paid the civilian workers in it and rumour ran riot. However, in our state of chronic shortages both in men and material, we had occasion ere long to bless the CCU most heartily for all the help, official and unofficial, which we received on our own army jobs. Happily for us, too, the famous signal 'Nandi aerodrome bombed' which stirred the Samambula
The original 8th Brigade Group had early in 1942 been brought up to divisional strength, but as engineer personnel had not been increased to the same scale as infantry totals, there was an inevitable lack of engineer gear and personnel. Equipment continually expected was slow in arriving, so borrowing perforce, we developed the technique of what were later known as 'Barrow-dough's Forty Thousand Thieves.'
Brigadier L. Potter, officer commanding the 14th Brigade, having decided on strategic grounds against the use of Namaka Camp as a central headquarters, a further network of roading became imperative. The transfer of the Namaka Hospital to Sam-beto, deviation around the airfield, the battery and water point access roads called for a heavy roading programme coincidental with an already full works and defensive demolitions scheme. For all these jobs, too, we were dependent upon loans from the Lautoka district engineer of his equipment The CCU helped with carryalls and bulldozers also. The 23rd Field provided the sappers to supervise gangs and, to the fullest extent of its limited personnel, co-operated with the PWD. Construction of vital communication roads was also a feature of the Suva fide works. Here the sappers with gangs of Fijians and Indians built Mead and Cunningham Roads which acted as communication lines between Samambula Camp, Tamavua Hospital and the perimeter defence area. Re-alignments necessary on the Nausori road bends occupied not only the 20th but also the 24th Army Troops when they came on the scene. At Wainimarama Creek, where
Route Coloniale No, 1. running the length of the New Caledonian south-west coast, was never designed to withstand the pounding of heavy convoys. It was already in a bad state of repair when we arrived. While some roading equipment was sent from New Zealand it was in poor mechanical condition and totally inadequate for the work involved. However we set about the task of maintenance and the roads showed a steady improvement throughout our stay, most notably the 23rd Field's Bourail to Houailou stretch and the 20th Koné to Kaala-Gomen stretch along which a dilapidated grader was always preceded by a red flag. Field Park had the busy sector about Nepoui to care for and was kept busy to say the least of it. But although we were glad enough to leave the whole job to the works company when it came, our road work in New Caledonia was the means of many happy contacts with the French and the Javanese. The men in the faded blue trousers who used to cut back the grass from the edge of the road and fill up the pot-holes in the crown with shovelfuls of sand and stone were fellow sufferers (though in even worse plight) with all who had no equipment. We did at least have a little, but for the boys of Bourail and Koné, as late as September, 1944. a bulldozer was still the centre of admiring astonishment. The French officials of the PWD were most courteous and let us have as many 'Javos 'as they could spare to help us on the roading. What we could have accomplished had the equipment been available, was seen on our return to New Caledonia from north in that part through the divisional area maintained by Works Services.
We paused at Vila in the New Hebrides to admire the all American coral roadway and then on Guadalcanal set to work to emulate it. Access roads to waterpoints and the road network throughout the Div ammunition dump were the first tasks. Later came formation, improvements and metalling in the Div HQ area, camp roading and bush logging roads. These jobs kept the 37th Field Park busy for months as well as metalling and maintenance on Wright's Road and alternative road to Div area, the roads about transit camp and FMC. We came at this place to marvel at the wealth of material possessions of the American troops. There were many gaping mouths as we wandered about the dumps at Lunga Point and several truckloads of useful matter passed back under the notice about illegitimate Japs to decorate
On Vella Lavella we got going. At last we had some bulldozers. The 58th Seabees had done the road from the Barakoma airstrip to Uzamba. We therefore tackled the five mile stretch from Uzamba to Joroveto for a start. Coconut trees lining the coast crashed into the ocean or over the sigs' telephone wires. Then they were bulldozed into breakwaters. The existing tortuous jeep trail through jungle night and creepers became within a few weeks a surfaced two lane highway with provision for temporary one way bridges at all river crossings. Difficulties of heavy equipment, of heavy daily rainstorms and of extremely heavy traffic caused by the necessity of unloading LST convoys under heavy ack-ack protection at the southern end of the island, meant that the progress on the road was not so fast as it might have been. By the end of November, 1943, however, an additional four miles from Joroveto to Juno had been added, thanks to the help of the 77th Seabees, so that problems of maintenance now began to come to the fore. The roadways were given a preliminarv road surface by dozing down to the solid coral. This solid surface was improved by fillings and providing in its very nature a good drainage medium it soon developed into a fine roadway. Speeds were kept down by Div orders to 20 mph for trucks and 25 mph for jeeps but difficulty soon arose in restricting the speeds to these limits.
This experience of roading, which clearly demonstrated the need for heavy equipment and plenty of it, led to the establishment of the 26th Field as the heavy equipment company. Their prentice hand in Vella was given full scope in the stretch from Ruravai to Lambu Lambu Cove, a stretch which involved several bridges and of which time prevented the finishing. Extensions to the Barakoma airfield also developed the latent talent of 26th's dozer drivers and gave them pleasant associations with the Seabees there. The value of this experience was to be soon apparent.
Meanwhile on Mono Island in the Treasury Group the 23rd Field Company was having a rather more difficult time with its roads. Mono had no fringe of coral about its shoreline on which
Acquaintance with the Seabees was renewed on Nissan. We had the pleasure here of assisting them to get the bomber strip finished in the time scheduled—a matter of less than six weeks. As in no other place we felt that we had a share in the Nissan strips. The formation of a compass octa-rose in concrete (a means of testing the accuracy of plane compasses), the clearing of coconuts with explosives and the later erection of huts gave us that righteous glow of co-operativeness whenever we heard the dawn patrol go out. Admitted that the early morning quota to a night of noises was at times disturbing. However, our efforts were also appreciated officially and our citation read that 'assignments were carried out in a most efficient manner and with untiring zeal and industry.'
The roads of Nissan which began with pieces of marsden matting in Pokonian Plantation on D-day became, ere we left, a lengthy monument of many miles to the work of the 26th Heavy-Equipment Company. The initial reconnaissance for the nine-mile stretch from Pokonian to the Roman Catholic Mission was not without excitement. Blissfully unaware of any Jap concentrations, the recce party was blazing a way through the jungle for the bulldozer 100 yards behind. In so doing thev caught up
Then on one other forgotten island the engineers made roads and aerodromes with borrowed tools. The tale of N Force in Norfolk conveys the same lessons which were learned by the remainder of the engineers further north. The principal road formation work other than re-grading the existing communications, was the access roading to heavy coastal guns. Through hilly bush country a sidling road was cut, formed, and metalled with crushed sandstone. Other roads were made around the air force camps to provide access to settlers' farms which had been isolated by the formation of the airfield. On 5 March, 1943, the airfield itself was taken over for maintenance. Fortunately we were also able to take over the necessary D-8 bulldozers, carryall, Gallion grader, roller, sprinkler truck and tractor. With these, and in spite of wet weather and bad initial drainage of the field, as well as washouts from beneath the metal matting, we kept the planes coming and going.
Some conception of the importance of communications to Pacific warfare may be gained from this record. The Seabees played a no less vital role than the Marines in island warfare, and it was our privilege to assist them in their construction works and to emulate them on the roads and airfields of the Pacific.
Since this has been a mobile war, a war of mechanised movement, the engineers have had to be extra busy. No longer are their tasks confined to mamelon and ravelin, to sap and bay, but, as do their vigorous colleagues, the tanks and the army service corps, they have hurtled along the highways of the world Where there were no highways, as in many Pacific islands, they have first dozed and then trucked them.
The fleet of trucks upon whose transport we depended for work and play demanded constant attention. In fact it was quite surprising that so many men did manage to get employed about transport and technical lines of the NZE, and to draw extra duty pay into the bargain. We are not concerned here with such technical details as the peculiar demerits of any one make of truck; nor yet with the intricacies of the diesel engine or any of those stationary engines which stationary sappers choked, or felt like choking, at all hours of the day and night. Suffice it to say that transport did a wonderful job. The drivers who negotiated the miles of jungle mud, winched themselves and their companions out by anchoring themselves to coconut palms, buried themselves in dust and clothed themselves in coral, were not always having a Joy ride. Midnight breakdowns and emergency calls, convoys, picnics, working parties, swimming parties, ball games and manoeuvres, involved long hours and, too often, not much thanks.
In Fiji, we chained up the tailboard on the lorry loads of sappers and infantry working parties and rushed them, no faster than an Indian taxi-driver, down the Walu Bay by-pass road to wee sma' hoors we hung about while reluctant and sleepy pioneers tottered dirtily on to the back of the truck and wet, with honest sweat, our insufficient seating accommodation. For miles and miles of dusty scenic beauties we crawled in convoy; and over the newer glories of our own soap-stone creations we bumped the gelignite and detonators tor the next big blow. A taxi service into Lautoka by a certain 'Dunkirk 'driver was a daily thrill for loads of chattering Indians until they were finally tipped once too often into the ditch. There was sufficient road hogging on the dry side to make anti-truck ditches in camp a necessity in order to lessen speeding habits and the resultant dust nuisance. We never found it necessary, however, as did the sappers in Norfolk, to lay sawdust on the road to lay the dust, then to set fire to the sawdust with sparks from the exhaust pipes. Borrowed horse rides from Nandi or borrowed bicycle rides into Suva were not unknown. The Don R had his motorcycle practice into town for a select brand of sausage roll each morning tea time. If MP's sought to chalk him up he was getting the OC's laundry. Waving merrily at the black ladies along the way, we transported the sportsmen to Davuilevu School through the rice fields, or loaded to the gunwale we devoured the dirt down to Saweni Beach and raced the sugar cane train, the CSR express. However, we didn't try to emulate the train's little trick of breaking in half on the hills. Occasionally we washed the trucks, hosed and groomed them, tried on their vau-bark overalls, and led them down to the car-park to stand in shining lines of green and yellow camouflage paint.
The value of jeeps having been amply proved in the Kaimai operations we had these added to the fleet by the time that New Caledonia was reached. Batmen drove them into streams, officers drove them into bridges, but the three or four per unit were invaluable. With chains they would take us over the paddocks to the scene of a manoeuvre in the worst of mud, without chains they would burn up the red dust of Plaine des Gaiacs until the jeep was as red as the dust beneath its wheels. They could also, if we were clever, be floated across streams. Experiments using eight kapok assault floats, tied in various positions, were a source of much delight, while one unit effectively floated their jeep in a 'magic carpet' tarpaulin.
Sunday by Sunday, the two six-by-tour GMCs, so scheduled, hit Voh or Koné just before lunch, or made 60 to 70 mile trips into the wilds to look at nickel or chrome mines like Tiebaghi or Chagrin. There were jaunts to Thio or Houailou for the lucky ones and a scenic tour down to the capital, Nouméa, when bush life began to pall. We recced with officers around the peaks of Koniambo and Kaala, up jeep trails which were deer tracks; by jeep, truck and quad we transhipped excited French friends to the races, or having trucked gravel, bamboo and niaouli bark for many miles we roused Charlie at the Temala Ford from his midnight slumbers and ran the gauntlet of his pet mosquitoes. We might, to suit our own convenience, sometimes use a ralentir ford instead of a ferry; but running instructions or no running instructions we contrived to use up our share of the rationed petrol.
Not satisfied with the existing transport, one
On Guadalcanal, Vella. Mono and Nissan Islands the really favourite pastime of all drivers was carting coral. Bulldozer drivers assisted by filling up the trucks through a loading bin located in the coral pit. Actually our first experience of quarrying had been at Lami in Fiji, where the dubious privilege of a couple of shotfirers was to supply metal for gangs of some 200 Fijians. The urgent upkeep of routes coloniales in New Caledonia gave us further insight into the mysteries of quarrying. Hundreds of yards of soft rock were excavated here for use on the original
As well as carting coral all day we found the usual busman's holiday at night. In clouds of dust and endless streams of headlights we rode around the highways to CB picture theatres, and there might well mislay our truck. Blacked out at one stage, with much inventiveness and variation in design, we had to crawl along with a half inch glimmer through the black visor slit; but in the later stages, with red and green will-o'-the-wisp lights of our own planes overhead, these precautions were no longer necessary. Through the gloom of semi-formed trails we poked our way, loaded with water-tanks, or struggled to the beach distilling plants to get a few drops of purified sea. Sometimes we got right into 1he sea. At Joroveto, until the 'million dollar' bridge was built, we had to chug our way over an American formed ford, which at high water might well let us in for a wetting from below.
Other and more obvious dangers lay in the brakeless trucks we inherited from allied '
The glory of later days was the heavy equipment. Bulldozers were so common that they appeared on Christmas cards in 1943, and even the most ignorant knew that there were at least D-4s and D-8s. Of the D-7s, which had once been in use, obituary notices read that they could not be kept in order by reason of age and should be regarded as junk. They were. The D-8, however, proved to be essential, as the D-4 was too light to tackle the heavy jungle clearing work. There were complications when the difficulty of manoeuvring big dozers on and off little landing craft led to the dozer, as at Pakoi on Vella, diving off into 'the drink.' No Moindah course of instruction had educated for such a contingency and when it was a borrowed dozer too, the saltwater in the works rather injured our chances of further borrowings. We recall a similar mishap to one of our earliest borrowings in Fiji. The Sambeto River rose to flood level and over. The dragline and the dozer together disappeared beneath the water and it was several days before the successful fishermen came to light with everything.
Such a story of roads and coral strips, of pushing down coconuts and rooting up larger jungle trees may seem to grow monotonous by its mere repetition of very hard and dirty work. There is, however, a thrill even for the dozer driver when it comes to action, a fact well illustrated in the accounts of the Mono and Nissan landings.
To the technical staffs belongs the credit for keeping us mobile under these primitive conditions and with the usual shortages of vital replacements. Odd and unusual jobs often came their way and in order to meet every contingency collections of spare parts were regularly made from the American dumps. Tt was from their use of such salvage that the 37th Field Park's 'Jungle Construction Company' gained its fame. Even before a complete workshop lorry had arrived from New Zealand this maintenance section had, from bits and pieces, made a very reasonable makeshift workshop. Pulleys of wood and machines built up from welded scraps were evidence of their ingenuity. Then, during the move of the 14th Brigade and divisional troops from New
To run a compressor up to the forward area for digging in the coral, or to run the risk of being picked off from the air while in an unidentified barge, these were some of transport and 'tech's' worries. Biggest worry of all, however, was transport home. For that we must be eternally grateful to President boats, Liberty boats, Victory boats and Dutch boats; and in some cases to those nice young Liberator fellows who liberated us from the more unwelcome aspects of transport through jungle paradises and over tropic seas, in order to bring us home by air.
There are two kinds of timber in the islands, coconut and the other kind. Since we have writhed under the label of 'Coconut Bombers' it is only fitting that in a work on the coconut engineers the noble palm should have its due meed of praise. Be it understood that no true engineer could content himself with just sitting under a coconut tree and drinking plain coconut milk. We have, we believe, added to the manifold uses of this plant, as known to the native peoples, and record for posterity its value as timber along with its potentialities as a source of 'plonk.'
In view of the general use of local timber, particularly coconut, in island operations, for bridge and other constructions, and in view of the lack of knowledge of the capacities of the various timbers, tests were carried out to determine the fibre stresses in bending of both coconut and some of the native jungle timbers. Several sappers did a lot of measuring and carrying of buckets of water on Nissan in an attempt to establish finally that coconut timber is really tough, can take it, and is, in short, typical of the 'coconut bomber' at his best. Official estimates reveal that dark red coconut timber, preferably from the bottom of the tree, will have a breaking strength of 10,000 pounds to the square inch. There is no available data for estimating what a sapper on an embarkation net will stand but it must be pretty near this. From the first Fijian days when the startling call of 'Timber! 'was to many a hair-raising experience, to the days which saw us with a full sawmill platoon conducting woodchops, we worked like Kipling's elephants a-piling teak (or some other wood) in the sludgy, spudgy creeks. But even within the depths of island
The heavy construction programmes which were continually on our orders made the timber situation always difficult. In Fiji the Fiji Kauri Timber Company at Nandarivatu and the Forestry Department came to the rescue with supplies, but in those days we often found that we had little or no adequate transport to bring the timber out. Light bush timber was hacked out from stands on the Lambau and Princes Road reserves for the Suva defence lines. Sandbag frames were made for the respective headquarters from these and the forest props were carted for the fencing of the camps and the strengthening of defence posts. At Singatoka we cut light stuff for the revetting of gunpits, and begged, borrowed or stole the needful from local contractors or from the CCU. Problems of costs were reduced one-sixth by the use of native timbers such as the very durable buabua, but the general problem of durability was not always so easily met. Work done, particularly in the defence lines, could not be left to the eager ravages of the toredo worm which would effectively deal with any post left in a tidal area within three months. Even when creosoted it was thought that six months would be a long life for mangrove swamp posts; but the situation being urgent, we went ahead and wound barbed wire around the donga stumps, with stakes and concrete posts alternating.
It was largely in connection with timber shortages that there grew up among the engineers a society of mutual help known as the 'Burglars Union.' This most praiseworthy society contrived, we know not how, over the course of years, to maintain a small stock of timber, yes, even for crates! From furtive attempts on the air services stocks in Fiji down to such indefensible proceedings as getting down on the CRE's private supply-in-reserve the true engineer adaptability to circumstances was abundantly illustrated.
We found that in New Caledonia we again had to fall back on local products. Mess rooms, tables, chairs, cupboards were largely constructed from dunnage, she-oak and local French timbers. Some of these like the tamanou and acacia (or gaiac) were beautifully figured woods and never bettered for furniture and inlay work; others, like the acajou, carried in their black hearts a vicious sap which produced the most alarming skin (Araucaria Cooki) which stick up like hatpins on the crests of the mountains, but we made up for this on Norfolk where the kindred Norfolk pines had to go down in hundreds to make room for aeroplanes.
Norfolk was one place therefore where there was no shortage of logs. The first logs were taken from the airfield there to the mill by a horse team (borrowed) but later on by a small tractor. The mill itself was operated by repairing the disused equipment
and gasoline engine already at the plant; and, although we were severely handicapped for belting and saws, the mill was in operation from the first week of the arrival of the engineers. A good class of timber was cut from the logs and within a fortnight of our arrival a building 60 feet by 22 feet was put up for force headquarters administrative purposes. Later on a second disused mill was put into operation and an average amount of 65.000 super feet cut in each month. The number of logs sawn by the
Memories of timber on Guadalcanal are for some confined to the topless coconuts which greeted us on Kukura Beach, decapitated by gunfire in the American attacks. Others may recall the sudden and eerie cracklings of the topmost branches above one of the fighting areas about Le Sage Trail. These large trees were so riddled by naval gunnery that a slight breeze might give the finishing touch to a tall dead stock or to the broken off branches suspended in mid air. Neither tent nor truck was guaranteed safe from their sudden falls. A similar experience was the lot of Div engineers at Nissan. Here in the Torahatup area the 25-pounders had shelled the Jap headquarters and the results, at least as far as the betel-nut palms were concerned, proved disastrous when a wind blew. We were hardly surprised when an American QM tent (acquired) failed to stand the combined weight of three betel-nut palms across it.
The clearing of fields of fire for the ack-ack batteries and field artillery developed into a big job when we hit the thicker jungle of Mono and Nissan. Here the big trees had to be felled or blasted out of the way in order to let the bofors boys see where they were aiming. A rather similar task on Barakoma airfield, Vella, was the efficient work of '
In November. 1943, Guadalcanal saw the formation of the sawmill platoon of the 37th Field Park Company. At last there was to be an official engineer timber company. Twenty-five men came from Field Park itself and the full quota of 63 was made up by an appeal for specialists or would-be specialists from the whole of the division. From this date onward the history of timber is largely that of the sawmill platoon. It would not do, however, to forget the part played by other companies. While the sawmill might or might not get enough timber for the engineers as well as for other units, it was just as well to rely on one's own initiative, The most effective use of timber in making bomb-proof shelters was in no way dependent upon the sawmillers as such. With raids occurring up to nine and sometimes twelve times a night 'it is obvious' says the CRE 'that two courses are open to personnel. They either leave their beds and go to the shelters
There was on Guadalcanal an RNZAF sawmill which had seen much better days. It milled mahogany and a wood known as 'rubber-wood,' both excellent in quality. Shrapnel unfortunately had spoiled a lot of this and with only a small saw it was not possible to manage the bigger trees. The suggestion that 3 Div's long expressed desire for a sawmill might be met by the 'air force's cast-off was not, however, kindly received hut, as usual, it looked as if we might be glad to father the bairn rather than ourselves be left destitute. Assistance was actually given to the RNZAF mill for some four months by men of the sapper units, two gangs helping with log supply from the bush in terrible conditions of mud and wet, and one shift working in the mill. This ensured an increased supply of timber for the army until we were finally able to enjoy the advantages of a fifty-fifty share in the Nissan Island mill run by the 37th CBs. Here our genius for sawmilling had free rein at last. The CBs, of whose courtesy and co-operation we have the happiest memories, worked one shift on the mill and we worked two. These were five-hour shifts covering 15 hours a day. We also worked two shifts in the bush since our job was to supply the logs for the mill and the CBs were unable to supply the necessary personnel. All the bush work was for us 'jigger' work, a method of attack unknown to the American lumberman who, having first cut the many sucker supports of the Pacific maple and the rubber wood, the typical Nissan timbers, preferred to push over the forest giants, shallowly rooted in coral, with a bulldozer. The tractor brought the logs from the bush, we cut them to the length required, and then they
A record turnout of 19,600 feet in a 15 hour day and a total of 800.000 feet for the period on Nissan (three months) is evidence of how much sweat we lost. Forty-two thousand feet of maple logs kept the 26th Field busy on Salipal pier; but since it was impossible to meet the demands of the multitude who sought 'just a few boards' we had on occasions, especially with the negro units, to try such frightfulness as hurling fuseless grenades in order to shoo them away. Our great day was the Allied Axe-men's Carnival held at the south end of the Nissan bomber strip on Sunday, 2 April, 1944. An earlier wood chop competition had been staged by 37th Field Park on Guadalcanal in January and its success emboldened us to back the 37th Battalion's Nissan carnival with both wood and choppers. Since of the 400 dollars of prize money on this occasion 300 dollars went to the engineers we didn't lose much on the day and the general enjoyed himself immensely. Liquid refreshments were supplied by the YMCA.
When the move to return south was started, the sawmill plant ordered for the Third Division was actually crated in Wellington, awaiting shipment forward. From the foregoing therefore it is piain to see that with this mill in being the New Zealand engineers really would have shown the world a thing or two.
In actual operations the bridging work accomplished by the 'Pacific Pioneers' was very different from that which was originally thought probable. The circumstances of 'island hopping' completely altered the whole appreciation of the problem and the geographical conditions encountered called for a change in bridging policy. Limitations on shipping space precluded the carriage of bulky and slowly unloaded bridging equipment which, in any case, could not be transported to the sites until roads were formed. Island water obstacles, usually small in span, were therefore surmounted initially by the construction of fords, replaced early by temporary timber structures and eventually by more elaborate bridges. While such bridging was necessarily slow compared with the erection of standard equipment, the usual lack of roads and tracks meant that speed in bridging was not, at least during the assault phase, a vital factor. So, while roads and tracks were being constructed, the native timber bridges could be simultaneously completed.
In Fiji, since our role was chiefly a defensive one, the preparations made envisaged extensive bridge demolitions, rather than bridge building. Working platforms were therefore the first care of the carpenters and the would-be demolitionists. These were constructed by the 20th Field Company under every sizeable bridge along King's Road, Queen's Road and Prince's Road, on the Suva side, with preparations for the same in other sectors. Under the decking and steel girder spans of Tamavua's composite creation, neat working decks were built and boxing for the charges placed on the girders. This treatment was also accorded
Five bridges from Nausori to Mbau, 11 bridges from Nausori to Londoni, another 12 bridges and additional culverts in the peninsula proper, these would have provided us with many a headache if D, for demolitions, day had arrived. We toured around in cheerful lorryloads to argue underneath the arches as to the best means of their disposal. Even on that elegant engineering feat, the Rewa River bridge, we plotted devilishly its overthrow and rather hoped for a quiet chance to practice the laying of gelignite plasters on 'third points 'of the spans. However, in spite of our increased glibness on trusses, stresses and RSJs, we were fated to leave every bridge in Fiji still standing. We even supplemented the existing ones with some new creations of our own: a bush timber bridge produced on the first engineer manoeuvre in Fiji, a 40-foot span bridge in concrete and wood down through the yangona plantations on the Samambula, a 12-foot span timber effort on the Vunda Valley road, on which we gave a hand to the FDF, and also a smaller bridge on the new Momi road. Survey of the bridges in the sectors for their tank carrying capacity was carried out and the strengthening found necessary was in several cases carried out by the 24th Army Troops. The same job, reporting on the strength and carrying capacity of bridges, was our introduction to the bridges of New Caledonia.
The possibility of defence still had to be borne in mind when we arrived in the 'Pearl of the Pacific' The 37th Field Park, it is true, had been formed in New Zealand and was to follow the advanced guard with loads and loads of heavy equipment and bridging gear. But Guadalcanal fighting was still headline news and we were not sure that Necal might not be the same before long. We therefore plotted the 57 bridges running over the burns of the south-western Caledonian coast and at the same time charted tank detours when the bridge appeared delicate. For the most part, however, we found that the type of bridge with which we were to be most concerned was the 'manoeuvre' type. The
Not content with the army issue article we set to work with barbed wire and niaouli and she-oak to make a 100-foot span suspension bridge 20 feet above water level as an access to the Taom River roadhouse and cinema. More substantial access bridges were built by the 23rd Field to Whare puhunga and to the Scots Battalion. It is recorded of one such suspension bridge that 175 man-days were consumed in the task of unwinding barbed wire cables, cutting" it into hangers of suitable length, climbing up she-oaks to affix the cables, swimming across the stream to hitch up the hangers, chopping neat sections of niaouli for the decking, tieing up sacking on a barbed wire section to act as a handrail. Niaouli being a medium hardwood timber and heavy, two fat anchors. 10 feet by 12 inches diameter, rested on the bottom of seven foot holes and successfully carried a heavy traffic. With these bridges successfully achieved and the great thoughts we cherished about exactly where, how and when to build similar ones, we were well equipped to meet the problems of the Solomons campaign. When we remember, too the number of officers and NCOs who went home at this time for bridging courses and combined operations courses, etc. etc., it is apparent
We pass by the Guadalcanal diary to record our monuments on Vella and Mono. In the CRE's intelligence summary the epitaph reads as follows:—
The above displays of engineer skill, industry ami powers of improvisation show a singular agreement in the unit rates of construction. It is estimated there from that a good sapper working at his usual rate, tropical, can easily build one square fool of bridge in about 1.77 hours.
Almost all of these creations were built on coconut crib piers and decked with coconut logs and coral surfacing. The full description of the Joroveto bridge on vella Lavella is given since the two bridges built at that spot best illustrate the problems attendant upon the use of rough timber and inadequate bridging equipment. The first bridge built here was typical: it was of two spans 30 feet long, resting on a centre crib pier 10 feet long, the length between bank seats therefore being 70 feet. Loose shingle and mud formed a difficult bottom with a high water level of seven feet six inches. The sills, one on each bank, were of local bush timber, mahogany, procured on the site, but the other timber including the stringers was all coconut. There was, as usual, difficulty in obtaining sufficient straight coconuts of a similar size and this was added to by the complete lack of bolts or spikes. The crib, 14 feet by 12 feet base, 14 feet by TO feet top, and nine feet six inches high, had to be lashed in the following manner A half inch steel rope, the heaviest available, was placed completely around the timbers of the crib's high side, the ends of the rope were then spliced together and a pole four inches in diameter and six feet long was inserted in the rope and used to twitch it tight. It nearly parted under the strain but not quite. The crib having been constructed on the left bank of the river, it had to be warped out into midstream position. Skids were
The glory of the second Joroveto bridge excelled that of the first by reason of the quality of timber used in its construction and the ingenious devices adopted for pile driving in the absence of proper equipment. Mahogany from beautiful big trees was used for piles and bank seats—logs measured up to 60 feet long and 30 inches diameter. Being near the site they were readily hauled into position. Since, however, there was no pile frame available, attempts were made to sink the piles by combined water and air jetting. This method provided insufficient penetration on the first pier so an improvised piling hammer or monkey weighing approximately 2.000 pounds, was rigged up. A timber guide piece was bolted to the head of the pile and the monkey loosely fastened over it. Control of the monkey during driving was thus ensured. By this means a penetration of up to seven feet six inches was produced into the bed of the stream—a most necessary precaution at a site subject to such heavy flooding. The decking was at first of coconut but was later replaced by sawn timber from the Seabee mill.
In view of the difficulties encountered by the American forces in getting equipment ashore from the LSTs through heavy surf during their operations on Bougainville, a new eventuality had to be provided against in the proposed Nissan operation. It was
Meanwhile the unwanted Bailey bridge equipment, the small box girder bridge etcetera remained with the field park at Guadalcanal to be spat upon and polished, repaired and maintained, ready for instant use. Except on the one occasion when five bridges were swept away there in one night's flooding there was never much likelihood of its being used. On that occasion the US authorities thought that it might come in handy but later changed their minds. A fitting postscript therefore to our bridging operations is provided by that same neglected small box girder adorning the Baraoua stream, an ingenious bond between the four field companies returned from the field and the works company who had remained with the stuff, between the new officers' mess with its parsonical murals, and the
'Last scene of all which ends this strange eventful history/ November, 1944, is the Bailey bridge, in all its glory, erected at the foot of Queen Street. Auckland, bv a remnant of 3 Div Engineers, to make a victory loan holiday for a tankload of pretty girls.
On a certain mysterious document called the war establishment table (WE) it is recorded that there shall be 32 carpenters in every field company and a good many more in a works company. The chippies therefore constitute a majority among pioneer tradesmen and get a whole chapter to themselves. Strangely enough, in spite of their skilled work and lots of it, they do not appear in that select band of specialists who draw ED pay.
We carpenters came well into the limelight every time there was a move. In fact we came a little too much into it. For most moves crates and boxes had to be made for all and sundry, sometimes for ourselves. They were usually ordered in a hurry and meant a picture of frenzied activity for some weeks. All around would be pumps, saws and lighting sets being prodded, wrenched or cursed into working order and coaxed into crates. Boxes would be packed, unpacked, repacked, broken down, remade, packed again, lost, put on the wrong trucks, added to lists, crossed off lists, hoisted by swearing, sweating sappers and dropped by the same sappers still swearing. Throughout such a 'scone-do' of the finest baking we chippies would carry on doing our bits. Once we had moved to the new home we started work again on messrooms, huts, hospitals, whares, bures, ro adhouses, YMCAs, tentfloors, QM stores, cinema seats and budgie cages. May the following bear testimony to the Carpenters' Union:—
In the big work of hut provision, for the 8th Brigade Group which was to settle in Fiji, we had the honour of having a big hand. At first the use of Fijian style bures such as the Samambula YMCA chapel or the Namaka 'Three Tree' Nat. Pat. hut had bures as possible accommodation. So we lived in huts.
Since the construction of huts called for the employment of specialists the heaviest work of hurricane reconstruction and preliminary hospital building was ours. The erection of all necessary stores and conveniences was again ours, these last including refrigerator stores in camp and Suva conveniences as well. Most of the work was done by contract under PWD. The preparation of Samambula rifle ranges and river booms for defence devolved on the carpenters too, as did the timbering for tunnels and underground hospitals. A total of 86 huts, S4 feet long by 21 feet wide, worth a paltry £160,000, was built by PWD and local contractors, engineers assisting, in Samambula A and B camps and at headquarters round Borran's House. A matter of 825 PWD non-permanent hutments were put up on the Namaka side, these worth another cool £60,000; and when the 300-bed Tamavua Hospital, the 50-bed Namaka Hospital and the 200-bed Sambeto Hospital are added into the total worth, it appears that we helped to add some £500,000 to the war bill.
On many of these bigger jobs we were as much sightseers as overseers, but it was always a pleasant task while boxing concrete for the New Zealand Club footpaths or the adjacent sea wall in Suva to watch the girls go by to the Government buildings, or to take a lemon squash with them inside the club each morning. None of this work, it is true, was the pioneer carpentry of the later period, but it served to emphasize the big part carpenters must play in any engineer unit.
Back to New Zealand in August, 1942. we blazed our way from camp to camp, Manurewa. Opaheke. Hilldene to Papakura, huilding in each case YMCAs for the benefit of the next draft
Although there were next to no nails on Norfolk we contrived to build, in 12 scattered headquarters, cookhouses, stores and other 'basic accommodation requirements.' Because of limited supplies some were not finished until the end of our sojourn there. Force works included a bakehouse and oven, a slaughterhouse, stores and a hospital. An old house, taken over for the hospital, had to be renovated and, when the wallboard came to hand, an operating block provided. Later we managed a ward of 20 beds, an X-ray department and administrative block, but throughout we were on the cadge from the Australian CCU and felt our poverty.
Arrived in New Caledonia we went native and built no longer six fathom bures but roadhouses in complicated metricals. With working parties of other units we put up the roadhouses at Taom River (14th Brigade), Houailou Road (15th Brigade) and Nepoui Valley (35th Battalion) as well as smaller efforts, In native materials, such as messrooms, cookhouses, and other facilities. Problems of supply of niaouli bark thatching, bamboo seating, heavy timber frames and finally, suitable reed thatching, involved much research far a field in jeep and truck; much gesticulation and vague interpretation with Frenchmen and Kanakas, and some argument with proprietors when we go down on private willow withies or spare thatch huts established for the use of Colonel Dix's 'Forest Rangers.' As a means to supplementing our comfort and general well-being the use of these home-grown materials in place of then unprocurable prefabricated buildings was most helpful. The facilities of the roadhouses were greatly appreciated and at Taom River especially the location of the road-house and the work done in its erection and maintenance was a feather in the engineer pugaree. We freely admit that the bugs got into the roof, especially in St Christopher's Chapel, and showered fine dust upon the forms and altar cloth. Maybe we had failed to take the natives' hint to cut in the last quarter of the moon when wood boring insects are less apt to infect the wood, the sap being down. At Moindah the passing engineer drivers had their fair share of the buns and did not fail to enjoy the blessings of Wharepuhunga as a half-way house on the dusty road to the capital. Both the Nepoui Valley and Houailou Road
On Guadalcanal the chippies of 37th Field Park did the bulk of the carpentering. Yet another hospital begun by 26th and 23rd was completed as No. 2 Casualty Clearing Station. It was built, rebuilt and rebuilt again, the buildings being typical of the usual body-snatcher outfit. We did an operating theatre, wards, stores, messes, showers, water supply, cookhouses to feed 300, lean-to wash-ups to go with them, and floored and fly-proofed IPP tents, the original wards. Two six-holers, four four-holers and for special patients, special accommodation, not of the steel drum type, however, were also part of that programme. These things are mentioned in such intimate detail as providing a typical outline of our versatility in providing for the mental, physical and moral needs of any or all of our fellow men. Timber was in short supply and slow. So were the necessary machines. However, we salvaged a winch from a derelict Jap barge, cast some pulleys from aluminium plane salvage, and produced a home-made spindle and drive whereby our circular saw could rip battens and slats as required. Large scale production was facilitated by cutting parts to length before sending to the job and also prefabricating where possible. This method kept the sappers busy on the unit site, while building proceeded apace on such as the CCS, the FMC headquarters and recreation hut, the five-ton ice-making plant, the post office and ordnance stores. Malthoid walls, in American style, were a feature of the FMC buildings.
Even in the thick of the fray, however, it was amazing how the CRE contrived to keep us out of mischief. To build a cemetery gate or even assist with a chapel was not an unexpected sort of job when chaps were being buried every day; but no sooner had we settled on Vella than the requests for jobs began to pour in: rifle ranges which everyone else shot to bits, odd jobs for generals, bishops, governors-general, and plain ordinary staff-wallahs, filing boxes, cabinets, bakery safes, folding chairs, sugar bins and flour bins, stools, ramps, signposts, cinema sound-shells, theatre platforms, YMCA forms, tentfloors, not to forget brigade rifle boxes ad lib and particularly rustic seats! We repaired Mr. Gill's house for him. Mr. Gill was the man who lent his coconut trees to the division and was then refused admission to the theatre
We concluded the tour, however, by working for the Americans on Nissan. On this island there were large quantities of stores, huts and tentfloors to go up as a semi-permanent camp for service command personnel. There was a post office also whence we could, by Yankee mail, order our copies of Time, Life and the pulp magazines With our own sawmill platoon on the job and priority requests for timber we hutted here for weeks, enjoying the additional comforts of a well-stocked post exchange and excellent lighting and entertainment facilities. The unselfish spirit so developed expressed itself in making betel-nut floors for the officers' tents and then finally blossomed forth in perfect flower when the remnant got back to New Caledonia.
Inevitably we repeated the tale of camp construction on our way back. We recall that, in the final stages, the faithful few who had resisted the temptation to go off 1o the manpower authorities, were dragged back from their prospects of leave to
The first care of troops in tropical islands must be health. This is so much so that a whole chapter of this story has been devoted to the RAP and its achievements. Prevention, however, is better than cure and one special task of the engineers has always been to provide a pure and if possible, tasty supply of water for all purposes.
The problem in Fiji was a particularly complicated one. Streams in the coastal areas there are all polluted, some seriously, and could not be countenanced for human consumption, at least by our standards. Many small seasonal streams running down the soapstone gullies, and shaded by hibiscus, provided little more than breeding places or choir stalls for introduced toads. Necessity for treatment was found even with well supplies; and although a lower standard could be accepted for use in washing and bathing it was essential that all supplies should be kept under constant supervision. The initial problem of a satisfactory supply for the troops expected in Samambula was simplified by the existence of an excellent town supply from Tamavua. This had only to be connected with the camp to meet all drinking needs. A reservoir receiving 36,000 gallons an hour and capable of holding 10,000,000 gallons, in a climate which over 56 years has averaged some 120 inches of rainfall and rain on 250 days in the year, was not likely to let us go dry. The task of maintaining this supply presented a growing problem when numbers in camp increased. Consumption reached tremendous figures as the months went by and the weather grew thirstier. Maintenance repairs brought down the total used from 88 gallons a man to 68. Later
On the dispersal of troops, however, the work of water supply was greatly complicated and the increased roading and bridging was chiefly on account of the need for water access, even the 'Singatoka Special' being impressed for transhipping water to Momi. Not that rain was unknown on the dry side Official figures given for 29 years at Lautoka showed an average of 70 inches a year with rain on 111 days, so that every now and then one might expect a little shower to lay the dust.
Again in New Caledonia we found that purification of water was necessary. In spite of what appeared to be ideal sources of supply, medical testing indicated that all Necal water required treatment before use by the troops. Rainfall was only 40 inches per annum and streams often ran very low. Water point surroundings, however, were in some cases idyllic: trees, grass, a tent, the ripple of sparkling green water and the insistent whisper of the inescapable 'mozzie.' Yet with a book in the shady nook and the regular customers satisfied with their quota from the S tank's store of properly bug-proofed and tasty can, the water point was at least restful—unless the pump broke down. Driving the water cart might offer more worries, especially in the wet times when the roads were difficult and the prehistoric Water carts failed to behave sensibly on the slippery bits. We had upset several of the water carts before we were finally reduced
The erection of showers came regularly within the purview of the waterman. Every camp site had to have new ones, on the bank of the stream preferred, lest by soaping the water in the river we should kill the cattle downstream. Finer points were occasionally worked for brigade units by introducing a 'hot-shower unit' lorry. Such was that on the banks of the Taom to which long files of dusty infantrymen trapsed across a suspension bridge to wash their bodies in the lukewarm water. The 37th Field Park had an excellent private hot-water system made from petrol drums which they carefully took with them on their moves. It was heated at first from wood tires, later from oil burners. Since no valves were available they had an ingenious device whereby the water was turned on when the rose was unscrewed. The 23rd Field Company showed its superior capacity for keeping on the water waggon by erecting, on Guadalcanal, a structure known as the 8th Brigade showers. These were run by another ingenious contraption of plugged stoppers in a wooden trough, fed from a small stream by a No. 4 pumping set and producing an excellent shower bath over a platform based on abandoned bridge piles.
It was the same old game again on the 'Canal. We recced for a water point, we established a water point, S tank and stand complete, not forgetting to advise HQ of its whereabouts. Then day in and day out we ran the point for streams of water carts who would try and double their quota of cans and, by all correct army drinking standards make our sums come out wrong. From
If no water point were adjacent we had recourse to the water diviners. These gentlemen astutely discovered water near the sea and provided us with wells. A diviner's life was not always a happy one, since majors and sergeant-majors were known to threaten one at least with ceremonial burial in his own well. This particular feat of divination was one of two, still bone dry at 20 feet down. With pneumatic tools and explosives; however, results might be regularly expected at 15 feet. If good water was found a shower of sorts could be rigged up, with bucket brigade or pump, in order to wash off the brine of a warm and sticky ocean swim. Reconnaissance along mud jungle trails for a suitable water supply, and that perhaps under fire, was the next advance in our water trail. Rough corduroying of access tracks became immediately necessary in the jungle areas of Vella and Mono and added to difficulties of successful provision. On Mono on the first day of operations, two water points were set up at opposite ends of the perimeter formed across the base of the Falamai Peninsula tongue. Past these sets on the next three nights the Japs infiltrated, imitating toad calls and bird shrieks, tapping and scratching the sets in the pitch black darkness, but strangely enough making no effort to sabotage the plant or to tamper with the yards of canvas hose which lay about waiting to be cut to ribbons.
The value of bulldozers as a means of getting water trucks out of difficult holes was amply demonstrated in the early days of both shows. A single 1,000 gallon canvas tank on a stand of rough timber was the usual picture of a water point, and upward of 2,000 troops might be supplied from one base point. The true nature of the engineer's work in water supply is even better illustrated in the detailed account of water reconnaissance supplied in
Washing difficulties were met more easily in the forward area since the streams were purer and water supply abundant. A typical rainfall sequence for Vella was 1.05 inches on the first, 1.9 inches on the second and 4.14 inches on the third day of the month, and this at the end of 50 consecutive days with rain! Mono was little better. Engineer improvisateurs, however, often
As soon as we heard of the peculiar nature of our last island home, Nissan in the Greens, rough attempts were made by some engineer officers to make condenser sets for sea water. The recce patrols assured us that there was no water at all to be found there and that we were in for a dry time. They little knew the mind of the sapper! It was on Nissan, however, that we dug our last well Once more, in spite of diviners, we were still dry at 30 feet, so we used it as a rubbish dump and ceased to recce for water. With the assistance of the gear of the US naval construction battalions (otherwise the Seabees) we were able to provide 250 gallons of fresh water an hour from the Cleaver-Brooks distillation units. This water was quite clear and not salty to the taste, nor did it need any chlorination. It was in this island that sappers were first heard to cheer at the onset of tropical showers. They were badly needed to fill with water the 44-gallon drums, the Jap saki bowls, the tin hats or captured rice bowls, all of which collected by means of betel-nut or bamboo spouting from the tent roofs. This water could not be used for drinking or in the cookhouse because of its flow over camouflage paint, but it was most acceptable for ablution purposes. In fine, a total output of 5,000
In the pioneer days of darkest Fiji the unloading of boats was not an unknown feature of sapper activity, but it was never a popular one. The Wharf Operating Company of the works services took over official responsibility in New Caledonia, but since they were not near enough to help unload LSTs in the Solomons, the task of playing wharfies was never confined to one of the companies alone.
In fact the most comprehensive work of this nature was done by the little flock in Norfolk. When N Force hit the piers and moles of Cascade and Kingston. Norfolk, they were not only in a bad state of disrepair but had obviously never been intended for the loading and unloading of a great amount of stores and equipment. At Cascade a little old concrete slipway was broken up, then enlarged and regraded for the hauling up and berthing of barges. The pier adjacent was enlarged to sufficient width to accommodate a mobile crane. At Kingston the old stone mole of the convict period was in very bad repair also and under the heavy loads of vehicles and equipment began to disintegrate rapidly. During heavy seas portions were washed away. Reconstruction was therefore carried out by re-setting the limestone blocks and filling in at the back with concrete up to the original surface. Because of the need of working with heavy steel barges and of beaching all craft at night, a concrete slipway was made adjoining the mole.
Two launches, two whale-boats, two flat-topped steel barges were taken over from American stores and the port was worked by sapper personnel with the help of parties from other units Ronaki, the usual supply ship. She carried a total of 220 tons and was unloaded into whaleboats and usually cleared in three days. On one occasion, however, the ship Karsik was off the island for a period of 23 days in order to unload some 1.500 tons.
Daily work entailed the placing of launches and whale-boats in the water and, if it was possible to use them, the barges also. Before dark each evening they had to be hauled out again. For one period ships were being handled for 30 days continuously and the D-8 was accordingly tied up for that period. It further fell to the lot of the engineers to carry out salvage of the Ronaki when, in spite of weather report warnings given during the day, she went aground off Kingston on the night of 17 June, 1943. The crew was got off in rough seas and later salvage of the cargo and equipment completed in three days. During this period engineer personnel kept watch on the vessel, secured her by steel cables and worked for every long periods under extremely;, adverse weather conditions.
Népoui Dock and the unloading of the early New Caledonian transports was the first job for most of the actual 3 Div Engineers. The unloading was made more arduous by reason of the need for haste. Dock facilities at Noumea were already seriously overtaxed but, since only one boat at a time could dock at Népoui's rudimentary wharf, speed was essential. Considering the rate at which we put through the loads of beer, ammunition, pears and other army necessities and laid them out on Népoui Flat to simmer, we are rather inclined to think that we scabbed on the watersiders' rates. T 51, T 52, T 53 went quickly through the hands of the 20th Field. On Christmas Day, 1942, we were still
The use of the captured Jap barge—christened Confident—on the Doveli-Maravari run at Vella, made necessary the next adventure with wharves proper. Near Maravari the sudden drop from shore line to coral depths had been amply demonstrated on landing day by the abbreviated CSM who, crying heartily, 'Follow me, my men,' stepped off the landing platform of an LCT into eight feet of water. The Confident drew about seven feet but it was the location of the ASC stores at Maravari which really determined the locale of the new wharf. An interesting feature was the unusual tides (one tide cycle in approximately 24 hours) and the average variation between high and low tide of only two and a quarter feet. Hardwood jungle timber served as a base for this jetty, the logs being set into a coral shelf. Ten-inch diameter coconut logs formed a simple crib superstructure which was packed up with coral spells. Old truck tiers made good fenders and when access road and mooring bollards were finished the 14th Brigade had a first-class jetty of its own. Along with this work other mooring bollards were requested for the LCTs and LSTs which were the regular supply ships. On several of the beaches therefore along the eastern strip of Vella solid mahogany blocks 18 inches in diameter were sunk to a depth of four feet six inches into bankers of coral on the foreshore bottom. The use of these made it less likely that a bulldozer would be called upon to push off an LCT which had buried its nose too deeply in the margin of the bay. It was also found necessary to call in an engineer to do the diving necessary at some of the Biloa jetties on Vella. To blow up underwater coral, with or without a diving helmet, by engineering one's way underneath coral mushrooms to fix electrically fired charges was a job worth mentioning in despatches.
Later developments in the wharf line came on Nissan. At the mission landing there we made a decent landing stage for the daily ferry Lct and the smaller Lcvp boats which dashed about the lagoon with mail, working parties and 'tourists.' The coral
The Nissan lagoon, eight miles long by three and a half wide, was well stocked with fish, and clear, but without the coralline beauties of off-shore Vella and Mono. Moreover it was shallow and difficult to enter by reason of coral reefs. The heavy demands on LSTs for more forward areas made it necessary, after the first few convoys, to supply Nissan with liberty ships. These, however, could not get into the lagoon and since unloading docks on the outside coast were impracticable, it became necessary to tranship stores from the Liberty boats to the LCTs. The latter were slow unloading from the end so, to speed things up, two docks for side unloading with cranes were ordered. Naturally the engineers got the rush job and while the 20th got busy at Halis, the 26th dashed ahead with construction work at Salipal. Timber was supplied by the 37th Field Park sawmill platoon and from the coconut logs of the Tangalan plantation. Bulkhead piers of 200 feet, providing for two LCTs end to end, and four feet above high water mark were built. With these were required mooring bollards, light standards, corner fenders and cleared and fenced areas for storage immediately inland. There were again peculiar comings and goings of the tide. The normal cycle was 12 hours but about every 14 days it changed to a 24 hour cycle, taking three days to make the change to and from its 24 effort. The maximum tide variation was only two feet nine inches and so no great difficulties were presented to the jetty builders.
The Halis job was particularly memorable for a 'Light that Failed' to shine at the appropriate time for offshore boats. During the early course of its construction, too, the logs for cribbing, to the incredulous amazement of US officers, were handled not by cranes but by submersible sappers. Two power saws bit heavily into the coconut logs, the bulldozer filled the finished crib with spoil and, a matter of 12 days after construction commenced, the dock was already busy. End unloading as well as" side unloading was provided at this pier but, even with that addition, the need for immediate use lengthened the period necessary for completion to three weeks.
At Salipal the first task was also the clearing of dump areas with the bulldozer and rooter. But here the coral had to be shifted with explosives and, from the blasting, huge coral blocks of one cubic yard or more in size, were dropped by crane behind a retaining wall to fill up the steep slope of the lagoon at that point. Cranes handled the heavier timbers, as shown in the photograph, the cribs being constructed later on shore and launched. Many days were spent waiting here for some bar steel which was finally located joy-riding backwards and forwards on the LSTs from Guadalcanal.
Over each job hung the shadow of impending departure. This factor, however, in no way impeded the work. If the building of a wharf were to bring us any nearer the day of crawling up the ship's gangway—or even, if need be, of crawling up the nets again—then we were 100 per cent, there! It was in fact from the Halis jetty that, on one sunshiny afternoon of May, 1944, the engineer remnant hustled aboard a LCT and, heading out towards the green haze of Sirot, said 'good-bye to them all.'
An adequate description of jobs done by the various engineer units in the Pacific war zone is quite beyond the compass of this work. Such details, however, as are mentioned here will, it is hoped, serve to call to mind other jobs which have slipped the memory and to delight the conscientious with the recollection of 'duty nobly done. In any case it is certain that not only were many camps built but that the man hours spent in their main-tenance must have been worth thousands of pounds.
On taking over camp works from the 18th Army Troops in the Samambula camps the first problem which presented itself was mud. Obviously this was a foretaste of the good mud to come. These two camps in January, 1941, were far from com-plete. Roading in particular presented an ever present source of difficulties as the heavy Suva rainfall was making the existing tracks a bog. Sluicing parties and fatigues were kept busy eliminating mud from all sorts of unlikely places. Jobs mounted up from day to day until the very limited personnel, 130 odd, were almost completely involved in purely maintenance work. Here are a few of the immediate jobs which absorbed the tradesmen of the original engineers and which were typical of many a camp thereafter.
First of all we minded the cookhouse. There were grease-traps and sumps to be kept in order, there were odd repairs to rosies and dixies, there were endless goings-wrong with oil-burner stoves, taps leaked, flues got choked, windows got broken. All of these the engineers fixed, as well as opening blocked drains, flushing bad lavatories, mending cisterns which overflowed at the wrong times and keeping the hygiene squad out of business.
Repairs to huts which bent before hurricanes, barriers to keep out the next hurricane, steps in concrete and edgings about the cookhouse, electrical wiring, painting, plumbing, draining, black-smiting, concreting or just plain digging work kept not only the select camp maintenance staff busy but were for the most part just the daily grind. The good fairies of the engineer maintenance workers lived down in the back of the camp among the lilies and lime trees. Here, in the blacksmith's shop, the improvising genius of the natural engineer had free rein. We produced anything there. Anything might well be asked for since we had nothing. Ack-ack tripods of steel supplied one vital want, jam tin bombs full of nails another, molotov cocktails of bitumen, petrol and home-made fuses another. If electric detonators were required and the OC had a brainwave, then we made the detonators: fuse powder filled up the commercial detonators and with a small piece of iridium wire inserted on a wooden bridge in the powder, the end sealed with shellac, we could fire successfully a series to rock any bridge in Fiji. Mending compressors, welding whatnots from precious gas cylinders, sharpening bayonets or just sharpening picks, all came easily—the achievements of the blacksmiths have been the glory of the engineers even if they did wake the camp up every morning with the ringing of their hammers! In Norfolk the blacksmith manufactured by hand out of bars taken from the old convict gaol the necessary bolts for a high level tank. Door-hinges, box-hinges and lumps of steel for the dinner gong, screws, bolts, pipe-fittings or knives from jeep springs, they made them all and they all worked.
No engineer, be it repeated, is satisfied with doing the routine job. We recall other efforts such as the attempt to grass the Samambula parade grounds with native grasses and native labour. Even on soapstone soil there was a little leprous growth from the carpet grass, and at all events we remember lots of the bula boys spending long and picturesque hours with a variety of fearsome looking cane-knives, chopping some grass around the huts to lessen fire risk and keep the camp tidy. Wiring around the camps was good practice for later efforts among the mangrove stretches, while digging was always practice for the future fox-hole.
On the dry side (Namaka) maintenance problems loomed large after the conclusion of the original works programme. The usual shortages were evident but the pioneer period had been meant to
So it was but natural that our later path through the Pacific should be pock-marked by the wells dug for many another camp and our route outlined in drains we dug or latrines we blasted out of the coral.
The glory of maintaining our own camp was, however, always evidenced particularly in the care we lavished upon our cook-houses. A Solomon's cookhouse, complete with old mosquito netting sides (acquired), with guttering of tin and roof of
Of course everyone didn't have a lighting set, even after black-out days were long forgotten. Those who did made the best use of it and even turned their mess rooms into recreation rooms, using an ingenious remote control in the operators' tent for air raid blackouts. Some bright improvisatetirs kept their lights running on truck batteries or, not content with the problems of Coleman lamp lighting, hurricane lamp smells or guttering candles, possessed themselves of batteries which were not in trucks. Some went so far as to have battery charging sets which, for a con-sideration, they might loan to the transport section or to the officers' mess. At one stage of the tour a certain major carried the idea of self-sufficiency so far as to suggest that we grow a garden. Judicious selection of sappers who were in need of cor-rection and others who had no care for the interests of their 'best friend' led to the digging and planting of a sizable plot, some 20 yards square. One junior NCO in a burst of inspired enthusiasm contrived to get his whole section there one evening. The beans came up and the beeves came a-browsing. Then one dark night a venomous bloke pulled the beans up, and since there was a rumour about the Americans giving us their very special rations in the forward area we let the garden go. It finally became a tenniquoit court.
Additional duties were laid on the broad back of the sappers when malarial control was decentralized and each unit had tc train its 'mozzie' man. In this respect some excellent work was done by all the companies keeping all puddles and likely breeding spots checked up and oiled up. On Guadalcanal in particular, where the field park had a large area to cover, and the malarial mosquito was particularly evident, a truck and mechanical spray-ing equipment were supplied and the fullest use made of them. It would appear that no duty more clearly shows the versatility and adaptability needed by the modern engineer sapper than this duty of camp maintenance. Literally a 'jack-of-all-trades' he is the key man in any large camp and a boon to the smallest bivvy.
Peanuts were sixpence a bag so we bought two bags, one for attack and one for defense. It has not yet been finally established whether the peanut boys regathered their stock from the floor and resold it to us next night at the guardhouse gate. That was the Samambula theatre and the boys were Indians with shining teeth and skinny legs. It was not built by us but enthusiastic sapper projectionists were the first to find a long-lost projector and pro-vide the evening entertainment Non-picture nights there brought ? us native concert parties, noteworthy boy choristers and Fijian basso profundos. The days saw us stretched out corpse-like after recent TAB or tet prop inoculations, or bearing up with difficulty under the heat and burden of a compulsory church parade.
Namaka nights saw us looking out to sea from the back of the hospital and enjoying the flicks on the brow of the hill below the fig trees. Even after the 'great scatter' we enjoyed our regular pill at the adjacent ITS screen on Three Tree Hill or ventured back to Namaka camp. In those days, however, our interest in theatres as such was no more than second hand. When we started to build for ourselves, something quite out of the ordinary appeared on the landscape.
To the many thousands of our patrons who came to see the movies at Engineer Theatres Unlimited, we wish to say, 'Thank you.' Theatres of the open-air variety have been our speciality and not only have they been heated nightly for your comfort but seating has been, on occasions, of the finest milled timber in the world. We feel that when the average production of the film industry reaches the quality of our cinemas de luxe then no
Our first contact, after Fiji, with the open air theatre was at the US airfield of Plaine des Gaiacs in New Caledonia. From Nepoui, the nightly truck ran us up to lie on hard ground or ant-hills and watch the silver screen mirror the mozzies. A possible alternative then was to brave the red dustiness of Nepoui and visit the negro camp for their show. This was often a special treat since they might well lift up their voices and sing as for the jubilee.
We started our cinema building proper on the slope behind Taom roadhouse. This was a handy spot with a fine outlook on to Mt. Taom, especially fine when a full moon lit up the bush, river and mountain. Bamboo seating installed for upwards of 2,000 personnel was usually filled. Additional bodies lay at all angles to the platformed screen. The maintenance of bamboo seating when folks would persist in walking over the terraces proved a problem but, for the period that we stayed, the road-house cinema proved a most valuable adjunct in morale building. Not only pictures but USO shows, the Kiwi concert parties, the div band (when 'in the mood'), and most noteworthy the 37th Battalion show, all performed on our stage and were most wel-come. We might walk over through the moonlit glades of acajou and pandanus to a boxing tourney starring demoiselles on the whitewashed walls of Bourail Place. Only such films as could be, by any means, construed as 'propaganda' were ever com-pletely unpopular, but those were even more unmistakably howled down than were the ball game shorts.
The Guadalcanal theatre off Le Sage Trail was a triumph for Mrs. Miniver, we might well expect to have a condition red upsetting things for a while. The frequency of conditions red (enemy attack imminent), however, was not so great as to worry us unduly after the first or second week; and since condition yellow (all clear) came back soon enough, and no condition black (in-vasion) appeared, we were able to enjoy our movies in relative peace, provided always that the mosquitoes were not feeling too aggressive. When the 14th Brigade moved on, personnel of the Field Park enjoyed themselves with the US rehabilitation sec-tion's shows or later still with the 4th Special Battalion.
Beyond the 'Canal' we improved ourselves and our theatres too. On Vella, the coconut plantation at Joroveto lent itself more easily to theatre building than had the Guadalcanal area since there was not the same amount of clearing to be done. Coconut logs made a smoother, less knobbly, seat than some jungle furn-ishings might. The Joroveto amphitheatre, seating 3,000 men, was such a pleasant spot in consequence of our fitting it up that even on the wettest night chaps could be found waiting patiently for the stroke of 7.15 p.m. For a recalcitrant dynamo they would wait till 8.30 p.m. The effective staging of band concerts here as well as of native shows, of 26th Field concerts with the 'Rhythm Rascals' or church parades with carol choirs, was greatly en-hanced by the provision, by 20th Field carpenters, of an elegant sound-shell in redwood. The whole thing was built up in strips and effectively threw out the sound to the 22nd Field Ambulance personnel seated up in the 'gods' behind the gonophones.
Here again we were delighted by the efforts of the 3rd Div band and able to make suitable comparisons. Here especially we listened in amazement to the Vella native Christians singing Handel's Hallelujah Chorus unaccompanied and in excellent Eng-lish. On this stage, Christmas Eve, 1943, Padre Voyce of Kahili, Bougainville, paid public tribute, on our behalf, to the loyal and enthusiastic support of the fine native people of this island. The bats wheeled overhead with short shrill shrieks; around our socks, trouser legs neatly tucked in, the mozzies whispered. Between films we played a hand of bridge or chased a match up one side of
But what was perhaps the finest engineer built jungle theatre was that of Torahatup on Nissan, the 20th's final work of art. Jt provided once more operator and stage and screen for half a brigade and more. Constructed in similar fashion to the Joroveto theatre it had the added advantage of a greater space cleared and smaller numbers to accommodate. Tiered seating was vastly-superior to anything the CBs showed us. Different films for 16 millimetre and 35 millimetre projectors enabled us to seek variety if there were no show for us. 'Snafu' appeared to remind us that mosquito repellent was for external application only. Here we saw ourselves as others saw us; landing on a waterless island and littering the jungle trails with dead Japs, LSTs giving birth to endless streams of lorries and dozers, the first few coconuts falling to the airstrip builders.
Not even the memory of a real white woman—and blonde-' coming in on a wing and a prayer,' or the vision of en route home) can efface those starlight nights of the silver screen in a setting of jungle shadow. It was by keeping our movies outdoors that we maintained that fine old Shakes-pearean tradition of 'holding as 'twere the mirror up to nature.'
It will be readily apparent from the foregoing chapters that little time was available to engineer companies for field engineer-ing training. Nor indeed, in the light of later events, would such expenditure of time have been entirely justified. The role which the engineers played when actual fighting was encountered differed vastly from that of the engineers in the Middle East forces. The use of booby traps, land mines and other specialized field work was reduced to-a minimum; and the really valuable training was found to have been in the development of qualities of individual initiative and adaptability. A great deal of the works programme, however, put through in Fiji and elsewhere, provided in itself the necessary preparation for the field engineering. Confidence in the handling of explosives came more readily after weeks of shot-firing than through any number of formulae memorised for the destruction of bridges. Understanding of the effects of gelignite was often better obtained through using sand-bombs and making battle noises than by months of blackboard explanations.
While it might have appeared that solid infantry training given to the veterans in Papakura and Trentham was frittered away in the Fijian soapstone, there yet remained, even to the date of 3rd Div's demise, a nucleus of well trained sappers scattered throughout the corps. Among them there were those who could recall the pride-tickling voice of the announcer at the Auckland domain civic farewell, prior to Fiji, saying: 'The 20th Field Company is now taking the field' and every inflated chest went out a fraction further to make good marching reach the best bullring standards, until the band gave out. For route
It was early in January. 1941, that the first surveys of machine-gun coastal emplacements were carried out and work was commenced on the Suva perimeter defence scheme. This involved a line of tank-traps and anti-tank ditches with a six-foot high sea wall enclosing the whole of Suva Peninsula and incorporating natural features as much as possible. The line ran between 'Tamavua and Samambula Rivers to a five and a half mile peg on Princes Road. What is described officially as a 'protective stone wall' took priority on the jobs. This was the early stage of what developed into the 'great wall' of Suva, eight and a half miles of it. Its most outstanding run was across the gap between the New Zealand Club and the Grand Pacific Hotel, although many yards of concrete went into other sections of the promenade. An engineer cement store in Suva supplied the necessary and there was also a concrete mixer on which Fijian and Indian labour gangs vied bitterly with each other, egged on by sapper personnel. At one point of the wall a small outflow from the town drains ran across the seawall area and this led finally to the disastrous collapse of the six to seven foot anti-tank barrier right in its middle and right opposite the Government buildings. Legend has it that one small boy was overheard to say, 'We've been waiting for this wall for 25 years,' so our work was at least appreciated, if not from the useful point of view, then from the ornamental. As to its likely efficacy as a tank-stop, combined with natural features and MG posts, there appears to be little doubt, although there were, as always, scoffers.
A warm welcome would have greeted the invader from the gunpits. These were a standard type, carefully designed, and on both the right and left flanks of the proposed defence were put in with concrete and all needful revetting and camouflage. The gun position was first excavated and then the sap work carried out later so that sand bagging might be reduced to a minimum and so that the earthworks might be as little conspicuous as possible. Forty-four alarm positions in all were finally tabulated. Material
The Namaka men of the 23rd Field were behind in no detail. ? Stand-to at dawn and dusk went on, at intervals, for many months. Revetments for MG and AA posts, carefully sited and concealed, were urgently produced in sandbag and donga stake, on account of the light soil. Prepared Malolo demolitions, explosives instruction at Natambua, endless sandbagging, revetting and concreting, excavating, wiring and boxing, all this was training, even if only for defence. Above all, the 'strong point' of the western area defence scheme, 'Black Rock' brigade battle headquarters, was an engineer monument. As from 4 February, 1942, the sappers tackled this job enthusiastically. The 'Rock', situated on a van-tage point above the Nandi plain, commanded the whole of the western area towards the sea. Underground, with a ceiling of some 10 feet made of bomb cushions and resisting slabs, was the main chamber, 32 feet by 22 feet and eight feet six inches high. The inside of the chamber was finished with 16 inch sand-bagged walls and cement spray, four smaller rooms were excavated and thus a central assembling point for administration purposes provided. Connecting tunnels, revetted with four inch timber rounds and up to seven feet high, continued into the hill and came out on the other side into observation posts. Materials for all this had to be taken up a steep hillside and the demand on material, owing to the rapid progress of the work, produced a
But we were not content with concreting alone. We had con-trol of wiring parties along the waterfront, around the wharves, and finally out into the depths of the mangrove swamps of the peninsula and Namaka beach defence areas. In the latter case the sugar cane was cut back a mile from the shore also. Along the tide line were wire belts on which the infantry worked. These were in 16 foot lengths with vertical sides of four feet six inches, six foot lateral and eight foot cross spacing. They helped to tangle the natural mangrove defences of the island most effectively. We had, on arrival, heard rumours of disaffected elements in Fiji, who might lurk in the mangroves or sugar cane waiting to knife us, so we refused to encourage the bright, hibiscus-crowned young ladies who hung about the working parties, and who used to say, fortunately not always in English, the most surprising things. To supplement the actual coastal lines of resistance we placed river booms—baulks of wood anchored to concrete blocks—in the Tamavua River, Gaol Creek, Walu Bay Creek, Leveti Creek, Vatuwangga Creek and Samambula River in that order. A Suva harbour mouth boom was also put in to supplement the existing submarine net. An outboard-motored boat, which usually hid in the mangroves behind Samambula camp, was used to reach these booms. Even officers of high rank who might abscond with this precious piece of equipment would come in for the heartiest abuse from the sappers who ran it. They, of course, found it useful for other purposes than concrete piles or river booms, and our first fish caught, but not with worms, were landed from this vessel. We added some £100,000 to the national debt by all the extra concrete we mixed—road-blocks, aeroplane stops, tank-traps, booms and defence roads. This figure may or may not include repairs to the concrete mixers we dropped in the tide and the denial of other invaluable resources to the enemy.
As a means of perpetuating local industry it was found that the local hibiscus or vau tree produced a bark which, when made into a net, would hide anything from an anti-aircraft battery complete with searchlight to a despatch rider's motor cycle. Knowing
It was an exciting day when the first Airacobras began to dash about from their Vuthimatha runway at Nausori. This looked a bit more like defence and our hearts wont up. Dutifully a few sappers got into their slit trenches but, emergency practice or no, the camp for the most part stood still and gaped into the heavens speculating about speeds and cheering the frightened natives. We learned later that theoretically we had all been wiped out, but we were borne up by the knowledge that we no longer relied upon the few antiquated machines on the Nandi drome to keep us in the picture. We had, moreover, seen to it that there was plenty of petrol for the planes now that they had come. We had dug Sealark into three beautifully rope-net camouflaged petrol stores to whose existence only the reclamation in Walu Bay bore silent witness. We had further helped to prepare, just below that same hill, an extra special petrol tank holding 30,000 gallons. This was of concrete, surrounded and covered with water. The tank was always full of liquid as when the petrol was drawn off water replaced it. The pressure of water outside the tank was thus effective in preventing any leakage of petrol through the concrete. When at last the American flying boats began to drop in on Lauthala Bay as a stage between Port Moresby and Pearl Harbour we knew that the Americans were not far away; and that from purely defensive measures we were at last moving to the attack.
The spasmodic gunplay and hikes to Albert Park which had characterized the workaday Toad Valley life in Fiji were now replaced by sterner training. We had spent long hot nights unloading ammunition and knew that, at last, there was some. The blue and purple hills of New Caledonia therefore had their echoes sent flying by sappers on the target and when jungle practices
Route marches around the ricefields and down 'strategic lines of communication 'to swimming parades in Fiji were replaced by big parades for Free French days in Noumea or long walks through kilometres of chrome-coloured Koumac dust to see the brigadier. The final echo of the famous Trentham wail 'Any boots to be nailed? 'faded out in the fastnesses of Vella and Mono. There we walked softly over the coral and through the mangroves in our bottlegreen jungle boots only to startle from his stateliness the blue nankeen heron and to smile at the bunny, bob-tailed snipe.
Booby trapping, in spite of many an afternoon's stumbling among the gaiacs, did not prove the most productive line of training. As far as can be officially ascertained an odd land crab on Mono is about the only recorded victim of these weapons. If so, it was not for want of trying. There were at least hopeful indications about Falamai village that the Japs may have had to carry back a body or two from the trip wires. On Nissan we set a few booby traps across the native trails in the evening and removed them at first light; but owing to the large number of natives moving through the lines we ceased this on D plus one day, the score nil—nil. Types used both here and on Mono were the No. 4 trip mechanism or the No, 36 grenade with safety fuse replaced by instantaneous fuse. All this work, as with the use of landmines was, in the islands, subordinated to more ancient sapper behaviour without modern mechanical horrors. Sample landmines and training were indeed met with in Papakura after our return from Fiji. A wooden detector and other improvisations were interest-ing, instructive and not quite so dangerous as the real thing. The 37th Field Park put in better training while at
There were too many skilled disposers of bombs who, having dodged the splinters flying on Moindah courses, considered them-selves equal to anything with a fuse on it. The fruit of their training came in the early clearances of Guadalcanal camp sites and later occasional urgent summonses for disposal when the air raiders had passed. As a result of this work, and for the guidance of souveniring sappers who would wander around old battle-grounds, some wonderful museum pieces were collected and dis-played.
Early training in spars, knots and lashings came in handy for model tank stands, with S tank complete, such as those erected for brigade displays and general utility purposes. It was handy, too, for tying up bridges and observation towers when the nails gave out. Flying foxes, other than those which chirred nightly over the cinemas and scrabbled horribly in the fruit trees, were flown over many a creek. We learned all about compasses—the ones which worked—and lost each other traversing the lantana and speargrass with one eye cocked on the tip of Ouazangou or Ouameni, a blue jagged crest against the New Caledonian skyline. We had lessons, too, in wireless telegraphy and some in semaphore. We sketched the graceful poplar lines of the bancoulier and the surrounding countryside through lorgnettes of cardboard and wire and we gauged inaccurately the slopes of the river banks.
But as the months of Caledonia slipped by we began to feel, particularly when amphibious training started, that at last we were getting something which would be useful in the picnic impending. Rope ladders thrown over the she-oak branches, miniature disembarkation nets erected on the banks of rivers, these things looked serious. The lurid stories of advanced party com-manders did not distract us unduly since, although we laughed at the Kiwi picture of lean, bronzed and hardy types, there was a greater feeling of confidence on the eve of operations than we could have thought possible in the dark days of 1941-42.
Von Tempsky's Forest Rangers of the Maori War would, it seems, have been born again in the Kaimais, ready again for their 'Bush and mountain warfare.'
Whether it was to test out the capacity of engineers as wet weather road builders or not, the fact remains that on those occasions when manoeuvres were the order of the day rains always seemed to descend, floods seemed to come and both of them to beat upon us hard. Of course we just carried on as if nothing had happened. Pick and shovel jobs shovelling up the earth that fell from cliff-faces and the extraction of trucks from the mud which had bogged them are only to be expected in training for a jungle war. Above all, such manceuvres are valuable as training in self-control and patience.
In Fiji it was the custom to 'stand-by' or 'stand-to.' The gunpits we had built and adorned provided a home away from home in the dark midnight hours. In fact so smart did we become at settling in at our prepared positions that a couple of hours' notice sufficed to man the guns and check the demolition points. Battle headquarters, carved from rock, developed with, the months into comfortable caves, complete with lighting plant—albeit a little overfull of carbon monoxide fumes from the petrol engine. Cosy huts of acquired timber and boardwalks added to the later conveniences and ere we left the island we had but lingering memories of sitting for weeks in slit trenches as practice on abortive alarms or chasing each other in convoys to meet the 'foe' at Navua's screwpine beach. Nor was it only the weather that hampered us on these occasions. The problems of a fleeing civil population were made all too apparent to some engineer drivers, at least, along the Suva-Nausori highway. However, just as we had learned, after much practice, exactly where to go and what to do if It happened we came home to smite the Kaimais.
From 20 to 28 October 1942, the warriors of the 20th and 23rd Field aided by 37th Field Park detachments, warred with jungle ferocity in the fastnesses above Matamata and Tauranga. We started off in lovely weather and were set for a rapid advance on the foe. Five miles of jungle track appeared like magic, the bulldozer working overtime to make a jeep trail along which Jehu officers drove furiously. While testing the capacity of the jeep on a down grade it was nothing for companion officers to be thrown out clean upon their heads. Enthusiastic sappers with visions of promotion recced for prisoners who could give information. They sneaked up on gun positions, planted the MGs, sur-rounded the crew and then found them brothers in arms, fighting a foe invisible to both parties. Then, with the usual spot of rain, the fun started. The jeep trail disappeared under a sea of mud, trucks already in got stuck, others coming in got stuck. Food grew scarce. The sappers began to tear tree ferns to bits in order to make corduroy. A 'Devil's Staircase' of bush tracking brought up the field park quota. The home guard rallied round. Perhaps it was as well since we had a 10 day ration equal to their two day ration. Supplementary geese, duck and sheep murdered while on the preserves cost the 23rd Field a small matter of a fiver in fines. We returned to
Once fully established in New Caledonia as divisional troops it became the joy of the field park bridging section to rush about the countryside worrying other sappers with their equipment. With the folding boats on behind they roared through the dust or mud to share in the exercises at Pouembout, Tontouta, at Bouloupari or on and around Mt. Vincent. Assault crossings with gear were practised in odd corners, the small box girder was shoved from one end of Nepoui flat to the other, in mud; the priceless folding boat equipment was folded and unfolded with loving care. Tubular steel connectors and couplers were cheerfully trodden into the river banks. With happy abandon loaded lorries were driven, in Stygian darkness, up to within 40 yards of a water jump and the sappers piled out. A few saplings might suffer in such a drive but will-o'-the-wisp lanterns in benzine tins, slit-numbered, served to guide us. Under the watchful eye of the supposed enemy, the FBE, the SBG, the TS and the timber were all unloaded. In a silence broken only by an occasional
Other manoeuvres were enjoyed by sapper representatives sent out among the battalions to startle with their sand-bombs. Saws and barbed wire were also carried for miles in the early morning mists while suitable bridging sites were located. Platoon com-manders took their men on three-day hikes along the deer trails, and stragglers therefrom straggled back down the green ribbons of moisture which cut the wildernesses of niaouli. Finally the formation of battalion combat teams gave one platoon the opportunity of the first amphibious training on board the ill-fated John Penn. For the remainder, however, amphibious training en route north was all sufficient though none the less appreciated as neces-sary and useful.
Arrangements for going aboard the transport after a long trip down the length of New Caledonia were better for the engi-neers than for the infantry. We at least walked up the gangway for a start. Later on we had a fair share of up and down the nets—diamond pattern preferred. Three times in the morning and three in the afternoon, then a little practice in quick unloading, one-third cargo off in daylight, then one-third off at night, one-half off in daylight and later one-half off at night. This game we played in the outer Noumea harbour. Thence, by President boats and others less commodious, we shipped north. With prac-tice even the lighter chaps loaded up with gear had finally learned to make the top rail and not have to walk up the gangway, so we
Here we had the first taste of the job in front. It looked like warm work anyway whether we were opposed on landing or had a nice ride into shallow water as at Vila. Sure enough it was going to be a 'ruthless' war!
The following reports serve to illustrate the standpoint and reactions of the sapper and of the engineer officer, to the jungle war as the engineers met with it
On 22 September, 1943, we landed at Boro with the 37th Battalion combat team without opposition. After a lunch of K rations we went on recce for water and found two clear springs of drinking water at each extremity of the perimeter. These required a minimum dosage for purification. We recced the bridge-head perimeter and Boro village. There were no signs of Jap occupation and it was a clean and altogether delight-ful spot We dug in and manned portion of the perimeter defences. Apart from a heavy shower, numerous foraging land crabs and falling coconuts, the night was uneventful. We dis-covered two US type life rafts and a 30 foot native canoe well concealed in the mangroves next morning. An engineer recce party in the native canoe went to Paraso, a narrow peninsula on the opposite side of the cove. We found the village deserted but there was evidence of Jap occupation by tracks and discarded ration tins, clothing and bandages. Further out on the peninsula we discovered in the mangrove swamp further tracks and bare feet marks, and hidden away, camouflaged with palm leaves, a 14 foot dinghy without oars or rowlocks. We assumed that these would be hidden away for safety but could not locate them. Palm leaves were well dried off and appeared to have been there some Ghq stressed importance of the men becoming air minded. Bans were placed on the use of fires and lights at all times and also on pleasure canoeing, swimming and fishing. Work was held up on account of the numerous air alerts. We cleared a field of fire for the 207th Lt AA battery near the jetty by sawing and felling trees and we later assisted by hauling logs into position. We cleared the source of the spring water supply and improved the flow. We recced for bamboo piping but were unsuccessful in finding any. As we were not engaged on other work we assisted to unload ammunition.
We felled and cut up the palms, improving the AA field of fire above, and further assisted in construction of this position. Further recce was made for suitable gun positions, but mangroves and other trees offered difficulty of access and obscured the field of fire. The engineers found a possible route circumventing swamps and more suitable for bringing anti-tank guns into posi-tion, but this was too soft for the heavier AA. A recce party sent in another direction for bamboo was successful, bringing back three 30-foot lengths of four inches diameter. We prepared these for piping and brought three leads of water out from the spring at the north end of the perimeter. The spring was well back under a large hibiscus tree and we were fortunate enough to get one lead high enough to provide an improvised shower. As it was essential to clear barges as speedily as possible and avoid enemy observation by plane we further assisted in unloading ammunition and stores. An enemy plane dropped four bombs (250 kgs) in a direct line with our bivvy but some 200 yards beyond in the bush. We straightened up the end of the existing stone jetty to give the barges better access.
We assisted in bringing captured gear ashore from the Jap barge. Felt concussion of five bombs dropped this side of Paraso Bay, and thus brought to an end our stay at Poveli Cove. We were reasonably comfortable but caused some little inconvenience by heavy showers both day and night. Some had to vacate fox-holes on account of flooding. In observance of precautions on air alerts, cleanliness of unit area and willingness with which they worked the engineers gained special mention.
The recce party left on 30 September for Timbala Bay, arriving in heavy rain but unopposed. In ground of hard coral and mud we commenced to dig in taking up positions on the
Lieutenant Syme, Sergeant Burnie, Sappers Philip and Find-lay, the last named the diviner, went on a water recce to Susulatolo Bay Two infantry officers and six guerillas accompanied us and left us shortly after arrival to recce for a stream which was thought to be not far away. We had four guerillas to picket us while we worked, since freshly opened coconuts and some Jap clothing hung up to dry gave evidence of enemy troops in the vicinity. We dug a trial hole first about 50 yards from the shore and had to place a small charge to breach the coral. The water cleared rapidly but was slightly brackish and suitable only for washing. We then decided to move into the jungle, strong indica-tions of water being found about 250 yards in. We had just begun to dig when the picket corporal warned us that Japs were coming. We immediately took up our weapons which were handy and made a dive towards where the corporal was. Before we reached him we heard him call, 'Hands up' and then a shot. This was followed immediately by another shot from Sergeant Burnie who had moved up to assist the now spread out covering party. The corporal had seen two Japanese and thought that he had winged one. The other escaped in the denseness of the under-growth. Sergeant Burnie said that the Jap fell to the corporal's shot just as he himself had fired. Upon going forward we found that the Jap was indeed killed. He had a rusty knife in one hand and a grenade firmly clasped in the other. He wore trousers and a green cap with an anchor worked on it and had a purse with several coins and two 10-yen notes. We continued with our water hole. Water was struck at two feet six inches below the first layer of coral and proved to be almost pure. The recce party returned having failed to find the stream as the going was very arduous and mostly through mangroves with very little visibility. After we had told our story the whole party moved into the jungle in search of the escapee and any others who might be about. We
An infantry patrol reported on 3 October having found a parachute hanging from a tree 200 yards outside our perimeter. Upon investigation it was found to be attached to a large canvas bag containing medical supplies, food and cigarettes. It had prob-ably been dropped by aircraft the previous night as it was thought the bombs dropped in the sea nearby were a signal to the Taps in the vicinity.
We moved to Susu Bay, prospected for water and found indications but were unable to dig wells before stand-to, on account of the difficulties in digging in. At 0100 hours there was heavy gunfire from the west, fighters drove off the enemy recce planes and about 0300 the gunfire ceased. In the morning we commenced digging wells. Indications of water divined by Sapper Findlay proved correct and we obtained good flows of clear water in two places about 200 yards apart, one 70 yards from the sea and the other 200 yards further inland. Both required the minimum dose for purification. We had to place a charge in one well as the coral was very hard and the going slow. We took both down five feet six inches, placed clean coral on the bottoms and then boxed them around to the full depth, finishing the tops with log sur-rounds and coral aprons. The RMO expressed his satisfaction with the water and the way in which the wells were finished. At each well a picket supervised and chlorinated the water on the spot. We then set up a grating over a sump and a drain for the men's ablutions clear of the well. We felled trees and built a landing jetty. The logs were anchored and wired up, then fine coral and sand used as covering, the whole working very well. Heavy rain at night but the improvised shelters of leaves gener-ally shed the water well. If we had not had any other special work on hand we assisted to unload rations.
We cleaned our weapons and moved to Warambari. A bridge-head had been established despite opposition and early flights had suffered casualties. We were prevented from digging in until 1730 hours by enemy LMG, grenade, rifle and sniper activity.
The front line was only about five yards from our allotted posi-tion. Eventually the trees were cleared of snipers, one being actually inside our perimeter. The ground was soft and muddy owing to the denseness of the jungle which extended right down to the sea and thus excluded all sunlight. Water quickly filled any attempted fox-holes so we had to lie on the ground with little cover except in some cases half rotted logs which were lying about. Visibility in our area was limited to 15 to 20 yards. There were a few exchanges of rifle fire and I.MG fire during the night accompanied by fairly heavy 25-pounder series from both the NZ combat teams now converging. Two enemy planes came over but were driven off by fighters and forced to jettison their bombs in the sea. The next day we spent digging wells after a successful recce. As the infantry were suffering from dysentery and were all required for patrols and manning the perimeter defences, we assisted by digging graves and burying the dead. We boxed in and finished around the wells, water being clear after several balings out but of a slightly sulphurous odour. Hence it was not suitable for drinking unless boiled, so we had to continue bringing water from Susu Bay wells by barge. These new wells, however, provided plenty of much needed water for ablutions. Some of the detachment spent the rest of this day also digging further graves and burying the dead. We later shingled over the graves.
The C and K rations seemed to become more distasteful by their monotony and most men found that all they could eat was a few biscuits followed by water and cold coffee. We suffered, as did the infantry, from dysentery, but after several days fasting and a course of sulphathiazole tablets, recovery was complete. We finished covering the graves and surroundings with coral and fine sand and then constructed a railing enclosure to the graveyard.
On 8 October we made further recce in search of fresh drinking water but all discovered had the same sulphurous odour. One suitable spring discovered was not available as the wide expanse of shallow approaches would have made it detrimental to include it in the perimeter defence. We went beyond the peri-meter and buried three Japs for hygienic reasons. We dug another well outside the perimeter and struck a good flow which promised to be pure but later developed again the slightly sulphurous smell, At 1130 hours on 10 October we left Warambari to return to Doveli. Arrived back we unloaded barges and then carried on with
On 13 October we had our first hot meal for 21 days, the benefit of proper meals being immediately evident. A large flight of 102 bombers and fighters was seen proceeding towards the newly opened front on Princess Augusta Bay. Bougainville. The tremendous uplift to the morale of all the troops by these con-centrations of aircraft has been most heartening. Later the men had their first shave for a month, kits having arrived with the mail by the barge Confident.
Despite the trying conditions and the gruelling patrols the health was generally good. After we left Doveli all water had to be obtained from holes dug in the ground, there being no running water of any sort. As expected in this type of warfare we were called upon to perform very few of our normal functions, but since we were not actually fighting we felt it our duty and were pleased to assist in other ways. Thus we were kept fully occupied.
A fine, very hot, sunny day. Most boats landed without opposition except for the Higgins boats which were machine gunned on landing. LCIs beached at 0640, LSTs at 0715, LCTs at 0830. Shortly after the LST's started unloading Jap mortars and mountain guns opened up on the LSTs and beaches. Our Hq and stores area came in for a pasting but the value of digging fox-holes immediately was proven, as we had only one casualty. Hq then moved 100 yards inland to the village and the OC and 2/ic recced for a more permanent site 200 yards into the jungle. We started immediately to move the Hq and stores and had just got the first load of stores up when the village was shelled and subjected to mortar fire. No casualties ensued but a fair amount of equipment, including a No. 4 pump set, two S tanks and four assault boats were destroyed. Most of the company records and stationery also went up in flames when the village caught fire Hq was then bombed and shelled. Sergeant-Major Beehag was killed and three other men wounded. The rest of the day was spent digging fox-holes and salvaging stores. The Japs infiltrated at night and air raids were continuous. It was a very anxious time. The OC transferred to Stirling Island and a combined engineers Hq was set up with No. 3 platoon, which had landed unopposed on Stirling. No. 1 platoon which had landed under command 36th Battalion started immediately putting dump roads in their area and cutting tracks towards Saveke River for the infantry and towards Keogh's Creek for a water point. Bulldozer operators, Sappers Duncan and O'Rourke, did a very fine job keeping going through shell and mortar fire, as also did Sapper Hammond in acting as bull-dozer covering party. Booby traps were prepared for the infantry and an anxious night was also spent here. No. 2 platoon, using the D-4 for making tracks, laid down beach matting and recced for water points and further roads. The D-4 broke down at 1030 hours, having been hit by shrapnel. Lieutenant Symon, who had been early wounded by mortar fire, and all other wounded were evacuated on LSTs in the evening to Guadalcanal.
28 October: All platoons, continued roading on Mono.
Roads to water points on Keogh's and Bryant's Creeks were finished and purification sets taken up and set in operation by 1600 hours. Construction of stands and turnarounds for the water carts was begun. Corporal Mackersey and four sappers demolished two Jap mountain guns on the heights above Saveke River. Hq bulldozer was again in action but broke down finally with its crown wheel and bevel pinion gone. On Stirling the D-8 completed 500 yards of track towards Soala Lake. Wells were dug and water obtained from hand-operated German filter sets, each capable of producing 40 gallons an hour A demolition party blasted the coral reef at the PT boat dock. Hq and parties from Numbers 1 and 2 platoons searched for stores buried by bombing yesterday. Fox-holes were dug or improved for another sleepless night.
29 October: D-4s prepared sites for bofors guns and for the radar. Dump roads were continued and improvements to water points and stand erection continued. It is very muddy for " miles. The men are continually wet and sleep in wet clothing. About 20 have only what they stand up in, since valises were burnt in the village. Supplies were being unloaded at the dumps.
On Stirling the water point at Soala Lake is in operation and the D-8 working with the CB machine has made 1,900 yards of road. Defective artillery ammunition and grenades were demolished.
30 October: Corduroy turnarounds for the water points being completed. Great difficulty has been experienced in installing the NZ water purification set. Roads are in a terrible condition, but clearing and making of new tracks continues. Hq is still sorting and collecting equipment. There are still a few Japs around at night, especially in the Saveke area. No. 1 and 2 platoons booby trapped this area and about six traps were sprung. Bloodstains were found but the dead, if any, were carried away. We were ordered at one hour's notice to prepare the road from Falamai to Malsi. A recce party was sent out.
The name given to this operation, that is, the capture and development of Nissan Island in the Green Islands Group, was no doubt inspired by the shape of the island. This is a perfect atoll, a fringe of coral surrounding a lagoon. Was 3rd Div. to be the unfortunate 'square' peg in the round hole ? In January, 1944, advice was received at Div. Hq that this, or another island situated nearby, was to be captured by the New Zealanders. Preliminary investigation might disclose insurmountable difficulties in the construction of the essential airstrip on Nissan and no knowledge of the ground conditions other than from air photos was available to intelligence. Orders were therefore issued for a preliminary reconnaissance to be carried out some ten days before the day for the actual assault.
After some discussion it was decided to carry out this reconnaissance in force by sending ashore a full infantry battalion to cover the activities of the specialists who were to investigate the island's suitability as the locale of an airstrip. Tentative plans for the actual final operation were made at Div. Hq. Information, however, was so scanty that Hq Div. Engs. persuaded the GOC to send in, with the commando raiders, engineer representatives who would collect all data necessary to enable the formulating of the final plan. The particulars urgently required were first, the possibility of taking assault craft into the lagoon—landings
While preparations for this raid were under way, a scale model of the island, developed from aerial photographs, was constructed by sapper personnel in the lines of the 37th Field Park Company. These men were drawn from all engineer units and had been trained in the work in New Zealand per medium of one of the much sought after special courses of instruction. The model proved invaluable in the planning for the operation. It was so well constructed that US senior officers arranged for our men'to instruct opposite numbers in the American services how to build up such models for use in other operations. The benefits of this method of making all concerned familiar with the scene of pending operations is incalculable and is steadily finding special favour with our allies. We of 3rd Div. can rightly claim the title of pioneers in this field of the Pacific theatre.
On 31 January the commando raid took place as arranged. With the 30th Battalion went two sapper officers and two senior NCOs. They had explicit instructions as to the information required. In spite of a diversion, in which one of these officers was led astray from his real task to fight Japs, the data collected and brought back to Hq was accurate and clearly set out. Cross section profiles of each landing place were plotted, on to which scale models of LSTs were placed. These indicated just how close to the shore and in what depth of water the landing ramps would be dropped. From this we were able to advise the American naval authorities that no trestle bridging would be required and to tell our GOC just where the vessels could be placed for the unloading of essential equipment. Also from the surveys of the sapper personnel it was possible for our Hq to estimate the amount of work required at each landing place. Units participating were thus detailed to provide the personnel, tools, materials, and equipment required in the first assault waves of landing troops. Preliminary works to be done ashore and to facilitate the beaching and unloading of the all important LSTs were also made plain. The experiences of one of these shore parties are described in detail elsewhere although, fortunately, the difficulties experienced at this particular spot were not repeated Hq Div. Engineers a complete and uncompromising vindication of the accuracy of the information collected by our corps.
The careful planning of ship loading, whether for engineer personnel or equipment, which was generally acclaimed as the highlight of the whole operation, was carried out by engineer corps Hq rather than by the individual engineer companies. These latter had their own problems but it was the task of HO sjtaff to organise and co-ordinate the work of all three units concerned— the 20th, 26th and 37th—as well as moving and working as a subdivided headquarters—part on Vella and part on Guadalcanal. In addition to this work careful estimates had to be made of the possible demands for engineer stores, both during the operation and for a period of one month after D-day. This was complicated by the fact that no definite appreciation of the enemy's reaction to the attack could be made The operation could be truthfully described as one in which we were 'sticking our necks out.' Our objective was closer to very powerful Jap strongholds than to our nearest allied base and anything might be likely to happen if the enemy had decided to blast us off the earth from his nearby bases. If this latter eventuality arose the proportion of the various classes of engineer stores required would be radically altered. A decision had to be made and fortunately it proved to be the correct one. The proper proportions of explosives, sandbags, camouflage netting, digging tools, wire, nails, timber and dozens of other items too' numerous to mention were indented for. The obtaining of these essentials was another headache. By co-operation between ordnance. 37th Field Park and Hq Div Engineers the troops went forward with the bulk of the stores required, taking into account the limitations of shipping space and the availability of the stores themselves.
Arrangements had also to be completed for the constant replenishment of these stores with succeeding echelons of supply vessels; and when this was arranged the 'buck 'was passed to the hack of the engineer companies—the 37th Field Park—for execution. That this unit, the only New Zealand engineer unit on Guadalcanal, and already 'flat out' on many maintenance jobs, should have done so well in its onerous task of supply is worthy of high commendation. After the landing, Hq Div Engineers had the task of co-ordinating all engineer services within the division and of carrying out the policy and priority of work as ordered by the general staff. This proved to be no easy task with demands for assistance far outnumbering the men and equipment available.
Unit personnel, including officers, saw little of this activity on the part of a headquarters which, to the lay mind, was in existence only for sending reminders for returns of all kinds, for shooting along blasts for work not done to schedule, for demanding regular shaving and camp cleanliness, for annoying officers and men alike with apparently contradictory orders and generally disturbing the even tenor of the sappers' way. Its mere existence, however, was a blessing, albeit very much in disguise. Through its efforts the sapper was diverted from many of the menial tasks of digging ack-ack pits, of filling sandbags, of clearing fields of fire except in very thick jungle, of unloading ships after the assault phases were over and, in one memorable instance, of clearing out a septic tank. This enabled the specialist troops to be concentrated more effectively on the more interesting work which could not be so readily undertaken by the other arms of the service.
The 'Squarepeg' operation is used as an illustration of what went on behind the scenes, to give the ordinary reader of this unofficial history some reasons for the existence of a divisional headquarters, engineers, and to justify the theme song of their little unit paper The People's Vice—' Last with the latest always!'
The immediate task of the engineer section attached to the 37th Battalion combat team for the Nissan Island attack was to blow down a face of coral cliff opposite Tangalan Plantation and thus provide the necessary beaching area for the LSTs with
Laden with cases of TNT and other accessories we duly landed from the LCIs on to the jetty and prepared our charges. Fortunately for us no one else was about with explosives and we had a clear run. Considerable delay was caused by the officer in charge of a nearby LCM who misunderstood our signals to move out of the line of fire along with his craft. The LSTs were gliding all too rapidly across the lagoon from the entrance and the precious minutes were getting fewer and fewer. The official photographer was standing by to record the doings, the sergeant in charge of the demolition becoming more and more agitated. At 0730 hours the charge went off—a failure! The resultant damage to the cliff face was inadequate to give the bulldozer the desired ramp.
Hurriedly alternative action had to be taken. Coconut palms on the plantation edge above were felled and pushed over the cliff face to make a very rough slope up which the bulldozer from the LST was trying to climb within ten minutes of the first charge's failure. We had some doubts whether the dozer would make the grade but after some tense moments of teetering on the top of the pile, the big blade tilted forward and sufficient grip was obtained on the edge of the coral shelf to pull the machine up into the plantation. This preliminary action over, we proceeded to cut down coconut palms for the bofors boys to provide them with something like an arc of fire. Two sappers lending a hand with the guns when the first planes came over claimed to have had a share in shooting one down and considering the number of times that we moved the AA posts before satisfaction was given, we reckon that the prize was earned. AA pits were made of coconut logs nicked with the power saw on the
'Come and get it' someone yelled, so we went and got it. And what did we get? Well, there were vienna sausages and dehydrated potatoes and cubed carrots and bully beef. And there were a lot of other things hardly balanced in their protein and carbohydrate elements, we fear, but at least capable of sustaining life. In Fiji there was dalo—alias taro. It grows all over Fiji and can be well cooked—if baked—but the secret seemed to elude the army. Dalo can also be turned into sweets. At least when chief 'Joe' took us up the Rewa delta he turned on disguised dalo—the disguise consisting of grated coconut over cooked dalo. And we tasted breadfruit there, too. But neither dalo, cassava (tapioca) nor breadfruit could ever take the place of a plain polato on an engineer's diet. We found that out from bitter experience in the potato famine. Kumala, yes, not bad, but dalo, no, not much.
For the Suva-sider at least Fiji provided the delightful privilege of being able to turn up his nose at army rations and go elsewhere. Money only being needed he could turn in at the Samambula Cafe or in town to the Chungking Cafe or the Peking Cafe and order steak and eggs followed by fruit salad of pawpaw and an odd banana or, alternatively, he could go all out on a crab omelette. In Lautoka one dropped in on Mrs. Thomson for a cool drink, as well as to eat off something other than tinware. An Indian meal, Hindi, Tamil or Goojarati, with chapattie plates, and several dishes of curry and spices was a rarer treat since opportunities of enjoying these were not great. Fruit, however, was enjoyed in plenty. Water melons of even too great a
We not only ate the best but often, under the best of conditions, thought disparagingly of Mob. camp messes. The pale0, nile-green painted mess room, done up for Christmas dinner, adorned with pin-up ladies and painted ones, as well as being scrupulously clean, was not bad for army engineers. Out in the country even we did reasonably well for food, while on manoeuvres under a large mango we tested out home-made oil drum ovens. These offspring of the blacksmith's teeming brain cooked first rate meals. Bully was, of course, the great standby, garnished occasionally with gherkins. Fresh meat, however, supplied from engineer-run refrigerators, was still obtainable. In those days, too, orderly officers used to come and listen to our complaints, even if they didn't do anything about them. Mess queues marched over under the watchful eyes of orderly corporals and bugles blew to summon us to sup. In short we used to do things in style. We had, just prior to leaving Fiji, a real foretaste of the good things to come in the shape of US rations. Morning pancakes and maple syrup, spam and viennas began to put in their appearance. They really were a novelty once. Then the long queues of the President Coolidge gave us a thirst, though not for 'cawfee '; and the transports en route to New Caledonia carried on the good work of preparing our stomachs for the worst.
We found that in New Caledonia there were redeeming features about meals—home products like oeufs\ The actual supplementing of egg powder with the real article was surprisingly frequent among engineer units. Fruit was not always so plentiful but mangoes in wondrous baskets and an occasional bunch of green bananas could be found hanging in the tents, while in season some glorious oranges and mandarines were to be bad pommes candles and at coeur de boeuf in the gardens of French friends; but recognised a near old friend in the barbadine or grenadilla and making equally short work of the rarer watermelons and ananas or pineapples. Fresh meat was hard to get officially, but an occasional dish of venison, the connivance of local farmers and accidents to Colonel Dix's cattle before they reached the Ouaco factory—though these last were inclined to be expensive all round—eked out the chili con came, the M and V and the sauerkraut.
Then we met with the field rations C and K on the infinite desirability of which the Vella campaign speaks volumes. Suffice it here to say that a prisoner condemned to close detention was also threatened with the awful prospect of a week, not on dry bread and water, but on C ration. A really good ration would, we are assured, this being Thwigg's Own., contain the following elements: meat (bully preferred), palatable (mark the word) nutritious biscuits, compressed fruits, glucose sweets, salt tablets, chewing gum, cigarettes, compressed fuel, wet-proof matches, coffee, tea or other beverage, dried whole milk powder, vitamin capsules, and other fortifying foods with vitamins. Fresh lamb, green peas and new potatoes, followed by apple pie and cream will, however, still demand a readier allegiance from the average sapper.
As we advanced north fresh meat and vegetables began to appear in greater quantity again. The refrigerator system began to operate for us as well as for the air force and CB units. On Vella and Mono, however, our chief recollections seem to centre around the Vienna sausage:
Viennas came disguised as rolls, but as a ready alternative spam (spiced 'am) was always ready. Fresh bread came from the bakery unit and considering that the men of the last war enjoyed dog biscuit only, for the greater part of their time, we have, it appears, cause for gratitude to the ASC once again. Scones were the specialty of cooks and some others. Some were baked, some were just 'done.' We could usually supplement the en route home.
Though no engineer would trust an ASC driver any further than an ASC driver would trust an engineer we must admit that they kept us existing. On one occasion only did they try to poison us and that with Australian rations too. It was early on in 1943; Nepoui Valley the scene There came an urgent midnight Don R with summons to the OC 'Hold that beetroot! 'Tinlined stomachs, however, were already well established among us and we could take it. No engineers died.
At the beginning of each 10-day period we recall that we ate well. Breakfast might include porridge (yes, even in the tropics), sausages, tomatoes, bread AND butter AND jam. The trouble was that towards the end of the 'break,' commons became noticeably shorter. Then of course we were glad to have Nat. Pat. issues of cheese niblets, if there were any left over after setting our patent rat traps. Dried milk and dehydrated cabbage were watered up to grace the festive board. A Nissan porker or two, satisfactorily clean billed by our freezing workers for suspected TB, was a welcome addition to fresh meat supplies. These particular pigs, incidentally, were often, to their sorrow, mistaken for the elusive Jap. They fattened themselves to truly amazing condition on succulent fruits. On Nissan, too, we enjoyed supplies of fish dynamited by official permission. The days of Saweni's surreptitious shootings and Tinipp's explosive trawlings were done with, and the army pamphlet 'Food is where you find it' was at last true for us too.
Finally we give thanks for that special fare which was forthcoming by the courtesy of our allied epicures on such high days as Thanksgiving and Christmas. Turkeys of a formidable, size, prepared for enjoyment down to the last drop of cranberry sauce, were a piece no sapper could resist. Grace, difficult perhaps to utter before bully, is surely fitting even after the memory of such meat.
If justification for the inclusion of a chapter on 'Plonk' be needed, it must be found in the close association between supplies of the same and the general morale. After all there are only two subjects supposedly open to the discussion of men, viz., beer and women., and when the latter subject is heavily censored the former must have its quota of interest.
We do not intend here to expatiate on the relative merits of the Garrick, the Club or the Metropole and the after hour possibilities of
In Fiji things were reasonably wet, although there were some shortages of the necessary. In the extraction of bottles from the wirenetting enclosure at Samambula Camp the engineers enjoyed some notoriety and especially over the festive seasons no doubt had their fair share. A reputation for 'running the cutter' in a piano accordeon case and the connivance of 'Ernie' with a crown top and his refrigerator was amply borne out by the major's amazement at a palliasse of empties which welcomed the dawn'of 1942. That the road from Suva was long and the taxi service rotten; that the road was longer still from Lautoka and the taxis non-existent; that the wog waggon from Nausori was erratic and that kava was a poor substitute at any time, these were but a
It was after an all too brief soak in New Zealand beer that we went to the dry and thirsty land of New Caledonia. But good wine, it has been said, needs no bush, and we had little trouble in locating it as soon as we knew the word vin. In fact we located some biere before we had even met with the vin. The provost corps certainly had some trouble in checking up on the correct number of bottles ex the holds of several ships. A whisky case which went overboard was retrieved with grappling irons as well as other things. The demand from the negro camp at Nepoui always exceeded the supply, too, so some assistance from transport in the way of jeeps became essential. Along with the very acceptable oeufs we found that New Caledonia could produce, in some circumstances, quite a creditable selection of drinks. Anise at four to ten dollars a bottle was very tasty but inclined to knock if taken neat. The general principle with this drink is to begin, at three years of age, with a nip and gradually get to like it. Liquorice mixed with gin at two to 15 dollars a bottle depended on the depth of the purse, Then the infamous vieux rhum alias butterfly brandy sold at almost any rate since it contained some 80 per cent kerosene, 14 per cent water and a soot residuum, sO they said. The general influence of this so-called drink was to make the head as light as the New Caledonian butterflies, and colours as brilliant and variegated as those of the butterflies to dance before the eyes. Plain ordinary vin rouge (80 per cent water and 20 per cent rouge) could be consumed in rather larger
Up Voh and Temala way it was necessary during long droughts to try various substitutes. Raisins, sugar and yeast with the help of the cookhouse staff were a useful line, and when supplemented by fruit juice had astounding effects. A dash of essence of lemon for one warrior produced an illusion of reality to the silhouette targets on the jungle range and with blood curdling whoops, better suited to the real thing, he stalked upon and wrestled with the unresisting cardboard. Raisin 'plonk' was not necessarv to the playing of midnight sirens among the gaiacs, nor to New Year celebrations by majors and sergeant-majors in the swimming pools. The niaouli tree, in grey and ghostly moonlight, also leant itself to the fevered imagination, and we have heard of sappers who, getting into arguments with Melaleuca (niaouli) came out second best with fists like footballs. There was, too, L'affaire Thio, in which a birthday party was celebrated well but not wisely.
Impressions of the poor quality of issue liquid were often recorded by the Engineers' Epistle and the Cactus Chronicle. In fact both quantity and quality of the drinks were below par and frothy. The 23rd Field, however, is the only one known to have made contact with what was known as Vila-nous ' plonk'; and it was not until we had all reached the high-water mark at Guadalcanal that we began to understand what 'plonk' rightly meant. A certain padre when describing the devastating effects of 'plonk' to the assembly of Presbyterian divines, explained the origin of the word by suggesting that it was so called because 'you plonked it into the system and then you plonked on the ground.' His recipe was coconut milk, rice and raisins, left for three days to work, with, if desired, a dash of hot stuff, in the shape of a couple of bottle of insect repellent. We can do better than that, however; recipes bettering Beeton's. The Gonophone, official organ of the 23rd Field, suggests the following:—Select and chop down a well-laden coconut palm. This is the hard part. Pour the contents of 24 nuts into a captured Jap bucket. Eight mugfuls equal one gallon. To each gallon add three pounds of sugar (white sugar
Some well-advertised brands of US beer were purchased for sixpenny souvenirs from the Americans we first contacted. When we got north, however, we made shift to supply the Americans with our own efforts and got the souvenirs back, or equivalent cash. A roaring trade in private stills and the problem of how to get the dollars back to New Zealand were incidental to the war effort but none the less essential. By the time we reached Nissan there were no longer 'scattered remnants of marines' to liquidate in an engineer 'binge-or-near.' Supplies there were supplemented by regimental funds and when earlier manpower drafts had missed their share of the good things offering we could almost imagine ourselves back at home—almost! Adam's ale being in short supply we naturally sought to eke out the supply by improvisation. Our success was as great as our ready overcoming of adverse circumstances under more serious deficiencies.
It is a sign of grace in a combatant soldier if he seizes every opportunity possible to relax—in order, of course that he may be the fitter for the fight. To the average sapper this comes as no hardship. Trained under New Zealand's free, compulsory and secular system of education the three R's are well known to him. Resting is only one of them; he is equally familiar with rugby and racing, and all three together are the effective means of keeping him sane under garrison and jungle duties.
From the earliest days of Fiji the rugby game was kept up with enthusiasm. The hardness of the Albert Park grounds; the prospects of over-sweating; the difficulties attendant upon obtaining adequate gear, especially football boots; all these were nothing if a game were at all possible. Engineer teams, noteworthy for the toughness of their forwards, gave a good account of themselves, particularly in pre-Jap days. The long hours of perspiring digging failed to keep the rugger men, at least, from their Saturday game and, if at all possible, a mid-week game too, against other divisional' units or the Fijian Defence Force. It was not remarkable therefore that in more temperate New Caledonia the component parts of a divisional engineers' team gradually emerged. Both 20th and 23rd players having acquitted themselves with credit in the respective area competitions, it was a husky band which gathered at Nemeara to gallop over the lumpy paddocks in match training for the Barrowclough Cup, New Caledonia's Ranfurly Shield. Intervals for the cutting of niaouli and liquid refreshment were taken philosophically. No better description of pacific pioneers at play can be found than Kiwi's description of 6-0. In it occurs this pregnant phrase, 'the back lines showed enterprise in attack and ruggedness in defence' us, to a T. The later game in which the divisional engineer team played divisional headquarters as curtain raiser to the Barrowclough Cup final was an even better showing. The CRE had come across handsomely with presentation medals and the representative sappers quite outplayed the General's Own on the Moindah ground, winning the game by eleven points to five.
Then in May, 1943, while right on the top of our form, we starred in the Div. sports. Here as once long before in Suva there were no barefooted Fijians to show us up. A representative team with Dr. Gordon as shotputter and vin rouge were brought along in lorry droves and jeep loads. The excitement provided by the big race day was to them but a small repayment for the break that their homes afforded us from camp life monotony. It was a reward, too, for the younger lads whose keen interest in soccer and baseball was at times embarrassing to their soldier teachers. Considering the minimum amount of secondary school French possessed by the majority of sappers it was interesting to find how well we managed to enjoy ourselves with monosyllables and the folies de jeunes filles: Kanaka tribesmen appeared at the races with the huge delight of children. They hung on the engineer-erected railings or draped the foreground, and the view, with their picturesque colours. Unhappily their zest for horse racing, whipped up by the successful first Taom meeting, led to the ire of the French authorities. No time could be spared for the Kanaka training of the champion Necal hack. In itself the turnover from the reed-thatched totalisator, 31,700 dollars, would have sufficed to stimulate interest in the royal sport.
For both highbrow and lowbrow there were occasional other entertainments—soccer, boxing and swimming, cricket, athletics and yachting, as well as varied forms of mental fag. In all these sports, however, as with rugby, the organised competitions between units, were in many cases held up by jobs which had to be urgently finished. Even the keenest of sportsmen, at such times, found siesta sackdrill a serious counter attraction. A swim in the shady depths of Nasinu's experimental farm pools or in the salty, barbed wire waters of Suva Point and Sawene Beach was a glad respite in Fiji. In Necal, rather to our surprise, sterner progress in swimming was enforced and, fir-shaded in many a babbling brook, water polo teams reappeared and brigade sports were swum off in pools improved by engineers and adorned with our valued timber as diving boards or access bridges. Cricketers, used to lounging under outfield palms in Fiji, had now perforce to make their own pitches. The 37th Field Park, after long experimenting, triumphantly found a cowdung plus clay composition (proportions are a secret), spread this with a trowel between wooden edging, and then rolled it into a billiard ball surface. They then improved their outfield with a planer improvised from rails and RSJs. Bourail Beach, with its visions of Waacs, and the fine curly combers breaking on the sands was, on Sundays, the happy venue for the easy-livers of the 23rd. The men of sterner metal scaled the 3,000 odd feet of red and blue splotched Homedeboa or Koniambo peaks, though chrome and nickel mines paled into insignificance when the gold of Guadalcanal valleys could be prospected for. The heather purple heights of Suva's Korombamba— 1,200 feet—the cannibal altars of Mbau Island and the swallows-nest caves of Kalambo, were a worthy Fijian training for such hikes as these. Through the niaouli glades of Les Trois Frtres, the deerhunters pursued the graceful Sumatra deer, while entomologists waved their fairy wands over the golden monarchs,
Still other adventurers in those days sought fish in the salt water mosquito marshes off the Caledonian coast. Lacking the Kanaka's wood-bespectacled skill at spearing, they had little success, but they learned to admire the superb aerobatics of the little swifts in cropping moustiques. The weary sought organised tours by lorry to such delightful spots as Pam, home of the ultimate mosquito, Tiebaghi mine, the largest and richest chrome mine in the world, Pagoumene or Houailou to see the sea, or even for a whole week to the transit camps in the capital. The capital, regrettably, had fallen into a complete inertia from which even a beer garden in its middle failed to awaken it. Souvenir hunters had to be content with palming off polished pennies on the more gullible of the allied forces. There were even fewer souvenirs to be had in Noumea than had been the case in Suva after the New Zealanders had finished their buying. Tn spite of dubious possibilities debated by the People's Vice, organ of Divisional Engineers Headquarters, it appears that week-end leave was not entirely unknown among the companies. We never again repeated, however, the carefree Fijian week-ends of taxi-ing around Viti Levu's 320 mile coastal road, or slipping across to Levuka, the Empire's most easterly township, to see how the colour problem may be swallowed up in a cosmopolitan cricket club.
Then, far away, beyond the seas and mountains which separated us from the pen friends of Kone, and where there was no Voh or Temala to gather fruit from, we turned our hands to woodwork and metalwork. These recreations had first come into their own with the gouging of gaiac wood into many a fine shape, but it became a passion when mahogany grew at the back door and when broken planes were to be had for the picking up. With the help, therefore, of both natural and artificial shells, and hacksaws officially and unofficially borrowed, the Mono engineers triumphantly won the 8th Brigade arts and crafts competition and the Vella engineers judged the 14th Brigade arts and crafts competition a tremendous success. The 44-gallon 'double bass 'of the 'Rhythm Rascals' symphony orchestra, 20th Field variety, was unfortunately not exhibited.
With no cleared ground for more than a game of tenni quoit or of basketball we managed to lose some more perspiration oh both. The Yanks from the army units stationed nearby came to visit us and showed us how to play basketball their way. The memories of baseball, first attempted in Fiji, were revived. At Biloa boxing nights the engineers were represented both by pugilists and vocalists. Vocally, at least, we won the tourney against the Americans. We enjoyed the facilities supplied by our carpenters for swimming and diving. We failed to show the Americans how, in this case, but as far as the Third Division was concerned we walked off with the Joroveto aquatic tourney with 38 points to the runner-up's 23. The coral beds off the coast lent themselves to shell hunters and swimmers who, minus their jungle boots, courted septic cuts. Sea-masked sappers swam after the coral fish between rainbow coloured bunkers. Lobster pots of liana were dropped by optimistic professors on the edges of the shelf. Early difficulties about shocking the Jap aviators by swimming in the nude disappeared with the disappearance of Jap aviators. We were then free also to paddle the native canoes a little further out into the straits and admire their speedy cut even when propelled only by coconut leaf fronds. On Mono, and to a lesser extent on Nissan, canoeing gave place to the more exciting sport of yachting. Such early attempts at yacht building as Sapper of Lauthala Bay, Suva, were supplemented by fresh attempts and the Treasury Yacht Club was the final full-blown fruit. Dipping through the tropics by the palm-green shores these engineer creations would have left the quinquireme of Nineveh tide-bound on a coral shelf.
In other spare time at Christmas, 1943, we staged a tug-of-war and pulled the provosts, almost, off their beetle-crushers. We collected pigeons with practised shots, and murdered little bats in their underground caves 'for examination purposes only.' Our inventive genius produced a series of washing machines which made it no longer necessary to get sharp little shell-fish in the feet while standing at the coral spring or to draw water laboriously from a rather smelly sulphurous well. We had, of course, in the far north no kindly French madame to wash for us, for a consideration; no beaming Charlie to cart our laundry through the hut calling out numbers in oriental sing-song; and no hot point to pop into a benzine tin full of clothes and so save lighting up the copper.
Highbrow standards were maintained by chess clubs, personnel largely from sappers, and also by the quiz contest men who held their own with the best on many an intellectual night in the recreation tents. We contrived, when necessary, to make our fun, like we made our 'plonk.' We were never really at a loss for something to do since ceiling inspection through a mosquito net was an ever present resource. Resting, we have no occasion to doubt, is the summum bomim of the engineer's life and wasn't it Shakespeare who quoted sleep as 'chief nourisher in life's feast'?
It is true to say that the work of the engineers in providing suitable sanitary camps and regular supplies of fresh water has always helped materially in keeping up the health of the troops, and their own. There remains to be explained away, however, the long queues at the regimental aid post of an early morning and the heights to which sick and hospital graphs have been known to soar. The RAP way, though longer than any other method known to the soldier, was the safest and surest as a means to getting home. There was, for instance, one sapper who, having got mixed up in a town brawl, came off second best. A big black eye and a badly bruised thumb took him to the RAP smartly next morning at 0630 sharp. At 0710 hours he received attention. Said the doctor, 'You've got a chance.' 'What!' said the too eager sapper, 'of being boarded?' 'Oh, no,' replied the cheerful medico, 'of living.'
Parades for inoculations, vaccinations, blood groups, boards, reboards, more reboards and dental, these were our closest contacts with the army medicos. We recall that stirring cry of the orderly corporal in the bright, warm mornings of Fiji, 'Anybody sick ?' There would be a stirring as of the seven sleepers and the tentaitve lifting of mosquito nets. 'What's your number ?' asked the corporal helpfully as he wrote your name, woefully misspelled, in the sick book. 'Now, get a move on, parade in five minutes.' At 0625 a sleepy band might straggle out to be marched, still dormant, over to the RAP. Strange how the habit seemed to wear off as the months went by
Of course the doctor often became-annoyed at the tardiness of the field company. He was a very busy lad those mornings, but we had a good excuse. There were shift workers who needed attention and one could become a shift worker for the occasion. Not unnaturally one can't go on blowing holes without getting hit sometimes. Accidents will happen on the job too. People get hit with all sorts of things. One sapper finally 'made it' with a perpetual headache received by connecting with a lump of tubular steel. Another fell over a bank on a dark night and got a headache. Headaches are hard things to localise. Then we used to hear of a new disease called 'fibrositis.' This was not a headache, or a heartache, but a backache. It varied in position according as to whether one leaned on an engine or sat on a shovel. However, it was a good line and sounded mighty serious. Suva side was not good for" rheumatickies.' It was the wet side. The invigorating sunshine of Namaka was required to make us 'lean, bronzed and hardy 'in the traditional 3rd Div. style.
There was one big bogey for the Fiji boys, the dreaded hookworm. Legends about hookworms were something like fishermen's yarns and some mighty fish could have been caught on the hookworms of the sizes we heard about. The little Indian boys who helped in the cookhouse were allegedly worm-eaten to a remarkable extent. In fact we recall that the US cooks would have no dealings with these bright lads, probably on that account. But the strict injunctions to keep your boots on were reasonably well kept and even digging in soapstone and other kinds of Fijian dirt did not manage to worry us to any extent. The hookworm caught up on us years after, however, and took his toll. We were on Nissan then. The battalions had been found to be with hookworm. Stories of hospital dosage reached our ears and rumour grew big. Then one day we had a gentle jab in the thumb, a slide of blood taken and an eosinophilia count made. If we had more than five per cent, of these we were unlucky and had a spot of the doings and an entry on our malaria card, just to show that we'd had something anyway.
Malaria was not common, though field park at Guadalcanal had several cases. Here the miasma of the Matanikau and a lot of extra hard work lowered resistance. With other companies the little yellow atebrin pill contrived to keep us going, and until
Considering the number and variety of native plagues with which we were threatened in the Solomons it is remarkable that more than five per cent, of the engineers staggered back home. There was one circular telling us what to expect—anything from elephantiasis to bed-bugs. We had had bed-bugs in Fiji though. How happily we recall squeezing the life out of the little brutes who squatted gloatingly in the top corners of the mosquito nets each morning. Elephantiasis, or any of the intermediate scourges, were a different matter. However, the fat malarial control man assured us that the mosquito doing the damage was easily distinguished and that he would deal with it. We have to thank him and his colleagues, occasionally boarded with us, for doing so effectively. We did lend an occasional practical helping hand by filling in bad breeding holes with the bulldozer.
It was the weather that made the RAP book bulk so large in the sappers' lives. If seriously affected by the heat, one might even go 'troppo,' but for the majority getting malua was sufficient. Malua is no more than utter weariness of the flesh; it is not everyone who can maintain the completely 'gone' effect so well as to cultivate over a period of months imaginary budgerigars, mongooses or boy friends. Overwork came second only to the weather as a potent cause of illness as well as of malua. One interesting development from the damp weather was the moulds and fungoid growths which did not confine themselves to clothing in kitbags but attacked even the skin of the sapper. For these ailments paint was provided in three colours, brilliant green, purple and brown. But the usual acute shortage of supply made it often necessary to accept weaker substitutes such as the pink stuff called calamine. Anything from sunburn to mosquito bites would be accorded this last treatment. One man in spite of warnings, got 'bitten' badly by the black sap of the New Caledonian acajou and as a result was badly tied up inside. Black widow spiders also were a constant threat to the exposed portions of the anatomy, and their bites unpleasant. Then there were the strange 'caterpillar' rashes which the sweaty sappers of Nissan found it necessary to scratch so vigorously and the even more severe ankle rashes caused by the red mites of Mono tickling up the hairy legs. Even the universal panacea of hot water was not sufficient
A particularly rich source of RAP complaints was found in the games we played. Football grounds in Suva and Namaka areas sent many a fine lad home to New Zealand with concussion or broken bones; and if they couldn't do that much for us they gave trouble to the RAP attendant sufficient to bring forth boardees as late as two years after the Fijian injuries. The sick book after Wednesday sports usually showed an appreciable bump up and indeed, as a refuge for those who did not want any compulsory sport of the army variety, the RAP was well known to the CSM. It is also on record that even a certain medico found it desirable, after the brigade sports, to have himself granted three days light duty from lifting heavy weights.
We remember with delight those early morning visions amid the gaiac or the mahogany when the patient patients were at last rewarded. The engineer's doctor was at one with his patients in that he was tired as well as honest. His ministrations, strangely enough, were required not so much for the old men of the outfits as for some younger malingerers. At one stage of the tour a powerful factor became operative on regular LD's and ED's— the prospect of being sent to the infantry. A remarkable improvement in the general health of certain sappers was immediately recorded and a powerful amount of work put in for about a week. Amazing revelations of RAP grafting by one or two was the immediate fruit of this attack on engineer prerogatives and some few did actually land among the infantry to afflict others with their 'belly-aching.'
Summed up, we often felt bad, but hope that we never looked quite so bad as the jungle soldier on the 1943 Div. Christmas card. He, poor chap, was doubtless graded out. In spite of all the complaints—and they were legion—we note with gratitude
Officer of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (Obe)
Officer of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (Obe)
OC 20th Field Company, for long and valuable services in Fiji and later in command of a field company of engineers in New Caledonia, Guadalcanal and Vella; Lavella. This officer has successfully undertaken many responsible engineering projects and was for a time CRE, Third Division, in Fiji. His record is one of hard work, skilful direction and untiring energy and is a credit not only to himself but to the corps to which he belongs.
Member of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (MBE)
Warrant-Officer First Class Clifford Rae Bayley, Hq Div. Engineers, has a record of distinguished and faithful service covering a period of three years with 2nd Nzefip in Fiji, New
Hq Div. Engineers;
The graves of most of these men are now to be found, not in the steam of the jungle, tended by native Christians, but in the cemetery which crowns a hill near Bourail, New Caledonia. Many other names, should be recorded here. There are sappers who shared the Pacific with us and, passing in time to other units with the Middle East or Central Mediterranean Forces, were there killed or wounded. We can but salute their memory with the engineers' legend:
Quo Fas Et Gloria Ducunt
This is the story of carpenters and plumbers, road makers and hatchmen, drainlayers and tally clerks, truck drivers and winch-men, concrete workers and blacksmiths. It is the story of their contribution to the defence of their homes and their country in the South Pacific. The story opens in the summer of 1943 and ends with the spring of 1944. It is not the whole story. That, one never gets from history. But it is a selection of events, incidents and personalities which tie together the motif of the story. Such a selection must omit much that is of interest, much that is true, and much that is relevant. Perhaps it is this necessity for selection that makes all history something of a liar and all liars something of the historian. What to the participant was vital may, in the story, be skimmed over, and what was elaborated with some detail may be thought trivial. In this story some readers may think the shortage of equipment and tools should have been more strongly underlined, others that the food and living conditions should provide the background music to the story, while others again may want the story told round the doings of 'The Elephant Boy' 'Panhandle,' 'The Bog Ape,' the 'Black Tracker 'and 'Angle Iron.' The shortage of tools and equipment was important, so was the food, so were the climate, 'The Elephant Boy,' 'Angle Iron' and the 'Bog Ape.' But they were never more than parts of the whole picture.
In preceding chapters of this book the story of field company engineers in the South Pacific has been unfolded, and it will be observed that much of their time was taken up with base construction work, as distinct from combat training. In January of 1943, Lieutenant-Colonel Murray, CRE, advised the GOC, Third New Zealand Division, Nzefip, that field company engineers had so much base construction work on hand that no combat training could be undertaken, and he recommended that a construction unit should be sent to New Caledonia from New Zealand. It is not necessary here to follow the negotiations which followed, nor is it necessary to discuss the preparedness of New Caledonia to accommodate several thousand allied troops, but it is worth noting that since the entry of Japan into the war, the South Pacific had become a busy workshop for New Zealand engineers. As already indicated in this volume, engineer activity in Tonga, Norfolk, Fiji and Samoa was no minor contribution to the defence scheme in the South Pacific. It was against this background of construction that Works Services Engineers took form under the supervision of Lieutenant-Colonel C. J. W. Parsons, Assistant Director, Fortifications and Works, Army Headquarters, Wellington. Apart from such precedents, Works Services Engineers had respectable parentage in the British War Office Manual of Engineer Services, War, 1940, and a first cousin in similar units in Australia.
By April, 1943, the war establishment of the new unit had been given form by the organisation of the following components:
Hq Works Service, NZE.
Works Construction Company, NZE.
Works Service Wharf Operating Company, NZE.
Army units already formed in New Zealand, the air force, and civilian sources were combed for skilled tradesmen and artisans. From the air force were recruited men who had construction experience in British Malaya and Fiji. Wharf operating personnel were chosen by virtue of experience in capacities as winchmen, hatchmen and tally clerks.
Hq Works was the organisation and direction of engineer tasks within the scope of works services engineers as an Nzefip base unit. Works service construction company was to have been under the command of
Hq section was made up of administrative personnel, surveyors, chainmen, draughtsmen, cooks and general duty personnel. The building section was composed mainly of carpenters. For administrative purposes it was a self-contained group, and under the command of Lieutenants S. T. Tremain and W. F. Wise. The services section included such groups as mechanics, welders, plumbers, electricians, bulldozer operatives, road and drainage men. This section was under command of Lieutenants R. Gilmour and
Works Service Wharf Operating Company was the first of its kind to leave New Zealand: it had a total complement of 79 men and two officers. While in New Zealand it was under the command of Captain E. Blacker and Lieutenant L. B, Wright. Personnel, as has already been indicated, consisted of experienced wharf workers, to which was added administrative personnel which made the company a self-contained one.
The choice of Captain Boyd as officer in charge of formation and training in Waiouru was a happy one. He quickly realised that in building up the sections of the unit the chief emphasis was to be placed upon the men as tradesmen and artificers rather than as soldiers. Military training was carried out in terms of combat training, and members of the unit went away as fully trained for combat service as did the divisional troops. All the cultural amenities available through the Aews were utilised. A committee to organise dances and card games for the unit managed to hold two successful evenings before embarking. By the time the troops assembled for departure they were a well organised unit with officers, NCOs and men on a friendly footing.
Saturday, 25 April, 1943, was D-day for Major West,
Thev were not truck loads of noisy soldiers so much as they were truck loads of very curious soldiers who for the first time in their lives found themselves on foreign soil. The cosmopolitanism of the East which Noumea presents to the new arrival is as unexpected as it is colourful; the Javanese women with their doll-like figures; the Tonkinese, their teeth and lips stained by betel-nut chewing and their stocky figures accentuated by their national costume of slacks, all stood in sharp contrast to what the New Zealanders had left behind only a few days earlier. As the convoy of trucks moved north on the hundred odd mile trip to Route Coloniale, native bures, terraced hillsides, mosquito infested swamps. French and native labourers working barefooted on the roads all combined to give a bizarre effect that robbed the rain, which fell most of the journey, of its discomfort.
As trucks jolted through Paita to Bouloupari and on tp Moindou and the Pass, the advantage of New Zealand's manifestations of local government became almost pointed. Curiosity, however, did not flag, but as small tented camps among the mud and niaoulis passed in monotonous succession there grew the restive suspicion that the camp towards which the convoy was making was just another bunch of tents among the trees.
Their suspicion was soon justified. A few candles blinking between tent flaps; a watery light from a lantern that attracted more insects than it guided tired, wet sappers to safety. 'Helluva place this,' someone was heard to mutter, 'not a bloody light in the place.'
Yes, it was dark, it was wet, it was mud up to the boot-tops, and there was a biting welcome from mosquitoes. 'Who was the silly b—who said we were coming to a place where we would have a garden farm, wooden huts and a beautiful stream?' Unpleasant as the arrival was, the morning revealed how much more desolate it might have been. Members of the advanced party had erected tents, had made some sort of a road into the site, had
The following morning found everyone discovering that the red dust from the roads had been washed into uniforms, that kit bags resembled a pulpy mess, and that the art of sleeping under a mosquito net had to be learned—the hard way. 'Old timers,' those who had been in New Caledonia for six months, were ready to tell the symptoms of 'going troppo' which were distinguished mainly by the belief that not only did one talk to the niaouli trees, but that the trees answered back. Instead of trying out so unusual a claim, everyone was busy hacking down saplings with pocket knives, debarking trees with anything and scooping out drains around tents—military reasons rather than modesty conceals just what was used for the purpose.
The first day was not over before it was discovered that works services engineers had arrived in New Caledonia almost entirely without tools and equipment. Brat not quite; by some freakish twist of affairs four hammers and a saw found their way among the cooking gear. Someone had blundered, or surreptitiously borrowed and forgotten to return. The position was not eased when it was learnt from the advanced party that they., too, had arrived with little more than knives and forks, but a fair supply of spoons. A naive transport sergeant, Charlie Rye, really expected to find the number of dump trucks and GMCs he had been told would be waiting for him. A camouflage expert,
When shortages of equipment and tools were found to be a characteristic common to most units in Nzefip at that time, and not the particular prerogative of works services engineers, what was said by the sappers is still regarded as 'information that may be valuable to the enemy.' But it can be revealed that one of the effects of the discovery was a feeling of irritation and frustration. Men, who for the first time in their lives were separated from their homes, from their families, friends and a familiar pattern
The complex background of a country such as New Zealand which has no heavy industries to produce the tools and equipment required was overlooked; the fact that shipping space was rationed on a priority basis, and that the organisation for the war in the Pacific was thrust upon the country unexpectedly— all these subtle points were brushed aside as though they were attempts to explain away. The adjustment to the new life had not yet been made. A solid group camaraderie had not yet developed. The mood was more of that expressed in the song composed by
On the evening of 29 May, 1943, just a week after the arrival of works services, its wharf operating company arrived. A camp had been prepared for these men on the spur of a ridge some 20 yards from the company headquarters, and very soon personnel of wharf were settling in. Though the wharf company was not with the main body of works services for more than a few weeks, its members identified themselves with works services as their parent body but they stoutly resisted the idea that they were just 'part of works.' No, they were the 'wharfies,' and before the last ship for home had been loaded they looked upon themselves as the 'bad boys' of the works services engineers.
Before the first month had passed works sports representatives had worn a track—there were other tracks too—to the headquarters of the New Zealand National Patriotic Fund Board's office in Bourail. Rugby and soccer balls, boots, jerseys, shorts— and socks 'if we can get 'em,' were obtained and football clubs had been formed. Practice matches were held, in bare feet it is true, and two games were played. Works' team had defeated BRD B team 13-0; the soccer team had gone down before BRD's soccer team. Those games were a tribute to the dictum 'the game's the thing.' Men played in underpants alone; or in underpants plus sandals; or in underpants plus sandals plus shirt—for a time. The ground was hard as it never is in New Zealand; or as slushy as it is in Rugby Park on a Ranfurly Shield day. Boots, shorts, and jerseys did eventually arrive in quantity and at the end of the first round works engineers had knocked up a good score for a team that started late.
Next in pugnacity came the works debating team which started with inter-unit debates and finished up with an unbeaten record against 4th New Zealand General Hospital and the transit camp. Subjects ranged from subsidising marriage, the economics of advertising, the welfare of Pacific natives, social security and the virtues of socialism. Ted Knowling, Aews bulletins provided the topics which
Boxing classes were also held, and could still claim pupils after 12 months. Two tournaments were organised, but neither was finally held. Most consistent among the 'fightin' men' were
The first effort in camp was euphemistically known as 'the carpenter shop' where D. P. O'Connor commenced by making a species of kitchen chair from niaouli saplings. The 'shop' was without walls, floor, or roof. Periodic thunderstorms swept sawdust, shavings and any borrowed tools D. P. had left lying about down to the plumbers' 'stand.' The luxury of a bench, tarpaulin roof on niaouli frame, and box for tools were not added until 'Bunny' Spencer and Aews, fittings and accessories for public relations Nzefip, tool chests for base unitsmortuary caskets, crosses and pegs.
Plumbers Charlie Storey and
Perhaps the busiest men in camp at this time were bootmaker Les Day, quartermaster
While the camp was thus taking shape a group of carpenters under Sergeant Fred Watts and Corporal George King moved down to the 4th General Hospital in Boguen Valley where badly needed repairs were carried out. Another party under Corporal 'Aussie' Page was at Base Reception Depot from where they built bures for pay, stationery and records departments.
The bure is to the islands of the South Pacific what the whare bures remains very much the same from island to island. The material of the framework might in New Caledonia be niaouli saplings, in Fiji bamboo, in the Solomons the 'Pacific maple,' but the pattern remained the same. When works completed the frame of their 180 feet bure mess building, natives were employed to give instruction on the thatching. This is started from the lower corner of the roof, and is laid on the horizontal purlins. The first layer of grass, which resembles raupo and which is cut some time previously by the natives, is put on with the roots downwards along the entire length of the roof. The next layer is laid directly over the first with the grass roots up. At intervals the thatch is securely lashed to the purlins. By the time the mess was completed Harry Page, bure became the headquarters for all bugs, insects and things that creep and crawl for miles around.
Services section tasted the shortage of tools and equipment when a party under Gordon Berry began the road into base training depot in the Tne Valley. The tools available at the start were 28 shovels and picks, two GMC trucks on day loan, a swamp plough and a Farmall tractor. What this meant is most easily grasped when it is realised that it took 40 men one month to complete the first mile. Shingle for the road had to be hand shovelled into trucks, and what metal was required also had to be hand quarried. Some of the lads began to feel like Cinderella before the prince gave her the glass shoes. Work on the remainder of the road was speeded up when equipment was loaned by United States forces for a short time.
What the services lads felt on the road, a party of builders tasted with engineer stores headquarters. This warehouse measured 108 by 48 feet and was the first prefabricated effort of the unit. From the clearing of the site to the tightening of the last hurricane stay 23 men had done the job in less than a week, and the only tools they had were four hammers and one saw. Those who could not lay hand on one of the hammers grabbed a monkey wrench or anything else that would hit the nail. The construction party no sooner moved off the job than Lieutenant Brooker, stores officer, made a dash for possession. For almost a month he and his staff
On 12 June the unit newspaper, Dozer dust, published its first issue, and continued with a weekly issue of three pages until a few weeks before the unit returned to New Zealand. The paper followed very much the same lines as most army newspapers. Dozerdust was probably the only army paper in the Pacific theatre of war that published a weekly summary of camp rumours on the assumption that the readiest way to scotch a rumour was to publicise it.
It also featured a series of articles entitled 'Personality Parade' for which Sergeant Lipanovic, NCO in charge of camouflage and in civil life a commercial artist, did a weekly cartoon of a member of the unit. The accompanying column was written by Sergeant Alex Bowman under the nom de plume of 'Major Sucker. OBE.' The series, which was very well done, drew favourable comments from New Zealand and American sources. The drawings, it is worth noting, were done with the aid of a six-inch nail in the absence of a stylus pen. Another series which excited a good deal of amusement was the 'Write Your Own Obituary Notice.' The following extract is taken from that written by
' Born in Stratford. Taranaki, in the year 1916. he attended the local poker school where he rapidly reached the proficiency stage; he then took to scrounging at street corners in New Plymouth until he was moved on. Entering the House in 1950, on his discharge from Works Services Engineers, as a candidate for the Waacing Party in the Taranaki electorate, he fought an untiring battle against fat spread which soon replaced the heavy, sickly Taranaki butter once popular in Invercargill. In his latter years, as Taranaki declined into the insignificant province it now is,
Towards the end of July, 1943, the first change in Works Services personnel occurred when Lieutenant-Colonel Jones, CRE Works, returned to New Zealand. Lieutenant-Colonel Jones had been associated with Works Services since the inception of the unit; in the first two months when equipment and tools were as short as tempers he had an extremely difficult task as CO of the unit. Major West, staff officer, replaced Lieutenant Colonel Jones as DCRE. Captain Blacker, OC of wharf operating company, was transferred as OC to works construction company with the rank of major, and Captain Clark, adjutant of works construction company, was transferred to wharf operating as OC. With the exception of Lieutenant Brooker, and his staff, and Sergeant G. Aim (later staff-sergeant) and Sapper F. Harrison, all Hq works
On Sunday, 15 August, 1943, Sapper J. Winterbourne while bathing in relatively shallow water, along with other members of this unit, was suddenly swept out to sea. His comrades went to his assistance, but only Warrant-Officer Gordon Berry was able to stay with him owing to the heavy surf. Berry endeavoured for almost half an hour to support his badly exhausted friend while the rest of the party made rescue preparations from the shore. At last, exhausted by his efforts, Berry became parted from Winterbourne, and almost lost his own life, having to be hauled from the sea in a state of semi-collapse. Sapper Winterbourne was a popular and hard-working member of his unit and was Held in high esteem both by his officers and his mates.
By mid-August, 1943, an outline of the construction programme which lay ahead was known to include the 4th New Zealand General Hospital in the Dumbea Valley which was to become the most elaborate general hospital in the South Pacific war zone; the New Zealand Kiwi Club, and the convalescent hospital at Kalavere. Repairs and maintenance to roads, vehicles, water points, electrical lighting plants and further construction in the Nzefip base area was to come under the charge of Lieutenant Gilmour with a detachment of 50 men and Lieutenant Scott of Hq Works. The construction company was to move down to Dumbea for the construction of '4th General.' Before the general exodus an invitation to dinner and a dance was extended to members of the Kiwi Waac company, stationed at 4th General Hospital, Boguen Valley, and to sisters of the hospital
The field bakery, through the courtesy of the Patriotic Fund Board, supplied a block of fruit cake; the cooks, bure for the big dinner and dance. Many sappers took the precaution of visiting bure into a blazing flame on Saturday morning. Fortunately all hands were at breakfast. Though it was only a matter of seconds before the ladders were lined up against the building the flames were scorching along the roof; the relay of buckets kept up a stream of water that would have done credit to a metropolitan fire brigade in the time of our grandfathers. In the panic one over-zealous sapper rushed the cookhouse for a bucket of hot water which he promptly threw over
The first week in September. 1943, found construction company Hq and personnel in the Dumbéa Valley, where a camp had been established by advanced parties. The division had moved into action, it was rumoured. The hospital site was still much of a wilderness. Bulldozers were terracing great chunks of earth in three shifts. Operators Ike Smith,
In the camp hot showers were quickly installed; insect proof kitchen and hot water system erected for a constant supply of boiling water, and every precaution taken for the elimination of waste and refuse in the coming heat of summer. An electric floodlight system was installed at points on a hospital site where prefabricated parts were to be unloaded from convoys of trucks, and prefabricated huts erected for company administration. A deadline had been set for the completion of phase one of the hospital. No one in the ranks knew what the date was, but there was a shrewd suspicion that it would mean the skill and stamina of the sappers against time. When Major Blacker announced that from 11 September the work would be on a seven-day week basis everyone welcomed the call which demanded of their best!
Here is a résumé of opinion at random among unit personnel on the question: 'Can we meet the deadline?'
I'm b—— sure we can.—Herme Palmer.
We showed what we could do with the warehouses: we'll do it with this job.—
Jimmy Ellery .Look here, all we need to do is get together.—
Ray Barnaby . Don't worry about what we can do.—Jim Taylor . It would be a fearful thing if the casualties arrived before we had the hospital readv.—Jim Paterson-Kane .Show me an engineering outfit that can't do the job.— Gordon Berry.
I'll work these wheels (grader) till they won't go round. —'Bog Ape 'Macale.
We can keep the cookhouse end up.—Maurie Corrie.
Sure we can, but we'll be so b—tired we won't know whether we're coming or going.—' Red 'Brownlie.
Do it? Of course we can. What the hell do you think we are?—
Bill Morrisey .Sure, we'll make it, if I have to mend boots night and day.—Les Day.
This was the spirit of the men who were to build the 'million dollar' general hospital; it was part of New Zealand's answer to the challenge from a hostile neighbour. What the casualties would be, and how long the contest would be fought were questions
Works services personnel were not as well equipped with heavy machinery as the job demanded. Of the two graders only one was serviceable; of the four planers only two were up to mechanical standard; the six tractors could hardly be certified 'fit for active service in the tropics.' The advantages of heavy equipment to men working to a deadline, as these works men were, was well illustrated when, with the loan from a United States engineer regiment, a power earth auger with one operator, one truck driver and two labourers dug 85 holes per man per eight hour day. Men using hand methods—picks and spades—were able to dig only 24 holes per man per day. And the men who did the digging will not have forgotten how tough the going was.
One of the answers to the irritation and annoyance caused by frequent breakages was summarised by the way in which one of the Perkins graders, which was always breaking down, became known as 'Mrs. Perkins.' 'She' became the 'old lady' who was always in trouble. Suspicion attached itself to operator 'Bog Ape' Macale who was suspected of harbouring questionable intentions towards the 'old lady.' In an official report on equipment the grader is referred to as 'Mrs. Perkins 'without the dignity of inverted commas. Such is fame!
On 14 September prefabricated parts for the building began to arrive on the site. Thirty-seven United States and New Zealand GMC trucks made up a convoy that worked a continuous 17-hour day from Noumea wharf for almost a week. Tn the course of delivery there was a fine 'batch of scones baked' when it was discovered that prefabricated parts belonging to the United States forces had been mixed up with New Zealand parts. Works Services liaison officer at Noumea, Lieutenant S. R. Mann and Sergeant 'Skip' Bark, both subsequently swore they worked a 25-hour day for weeks on end during the period.
The working day began with whom? With the cooks who rose at four o'clock in the morning? With the orderlies who arrived on the job at 4.30 a.m. ? With the dozer drivers who started the first of their three shifts at 5 a.m. ? With the first stirrings in the tents as the dawn broke over the valley? Or was
On the terraced hillside where the ward sites had been cleared a survey party moved in for the main setting out. Next came a 'template' party which placed pegs in correct positions for the men who dug the holes for the ward piles. Another survey party gave the levels for men who set in the piles and these were followed by another party which set sleepers and flooring. In this way walls, roof, windows, doors, interior finishings and hurricane stays were all erected on the assembly line principle. The method was exceptional. With the exception of the warehouses, prefabrication was new to the men. The method adopted of erecting the wards presented a problem that was not just an academic exercise to those planning the work. A clumsy plan at the beginning would cause endless delay and dishearten the men who were ready to give of their best. Yet willingness to experiment, preparedness to take risks and back one's judgment against the future was unavoidable.
With the arrival of the prefabricated hospital parts from New Zealand on 14 September phase one of the hospital started in earnest. Builders set to on the erection of the four 60-bed hospital wards, an operating" theatre in which all major operations could be performed, a hospital laboratory and dispensary, kitchen and cooking facilities, and a skeleton staff quarters for hospital personnel.
Services section had on short loan a Barber Green ditching plant, but for the most part the sappers were the ditching plants. Pipes, joints and all the hidden paraphernalia of sewerage systems had to be made in the concrete yard, cured and carried up to the job where they were promptly put underground and covered up. Culverts had to be dug. Roads had to be formed round each ward and the' whole scheme had to be designed to withstand the possible torrential downpour of a hurricane—which did come in January. The proximity of wards, operating theatre and kitchen to the roads made tar sealing essential.
The building of the Kiwi Club involved a water supply. After much argument a well was sunk at the expense of the
About this time Nzefip paying for his own memorial.
While works construction company was preparing the hospital site in Dumbéa Valley, wharf operating company was settling in at Nepoui wharf. The term 'wharf' is something of a courtesy title, and meant no more than a jetty alongside which the ship was able to berth while three of the five holds were unloaded at one time into the waiting trucks below. In the 17 months in which the wharf operating company supplied winchmen, hatchmen and tally clerks for loading and unloading vessels an average of two ships a month was handled, and during that period not a
The American method of loading or unloading a ship was to have only one winchman and one hatchman to a hold. The New Zealand method was to have two winchmen to a hold: one on the amidships winch and one on the yard winch, with a hatch-man to each hold. Working on this system the wharf operating company found heavy and difficult cargo more easily and safely handled. One of the fastest jobs of unloading was that of a ship loaded with 11,000 drums of fuel oil, 24 large piles 65 feet long, and a two-ton launch. The captain of the ship estimated that it would take at least ten days to unload, and made arrangements accordingly for shore leave. When the ship was unloaded just under three days, the captain had to revise his shore leave plans. Among the most difficult cargo to handle were the GMC six-wheeled trucks. They were big and cumbersome and were usually in the lower hold. Mechanical shovels, Valentine tanks. DS bulldozers, heavy field guns and other awkward equipment had to be loaded or unloaded from the primitive jetty with the ship's winches.
In the camp overlooking the wharf the greatest difficulty was experienced in keeping up the supply of fresh water for cooking and drinking. The nearest supply centre was at least six miles from the camp. A truck driver was kept going most of the day carting water to the camp in 44-gallon drums. During the last three months camp amenities were considerably improved. A shower and hot water system was improvised out of oil drums; a cooking oven also from oil drums was contrived by
The wharf personnel were the most isolated of New Zealand forces in New Caledonia. They were compelled to make their own fun to a much greater extent than most other troops. The
The detachment of services section under Lieutenant R. Gilmour, at the base camp, had been working seven days a week. Their work was mainly that of servicing units in the base Nzefip area. Electric light was installed in Hq, Nzefip, in the Ymca, the Aews building, postal, and the New Zealand chapel which had been build at Bourail. The water points in the base area were under the care of Works, likewise the servicing of the electrical generators and the construction of a bridge on the Tene Valley road.
Road maintenance presented a problem of finding a continuous supply of shingle. When that was found, the second difficulty was that of constructing drag lines to get it out of river beds. This was Lieutenant Gilmour's chief source of headaches. It also kept
'The welding crew were always overworked and put in a considerable amount of overtime, their work being invaluable and even irreplacable in many phases of the construction programme. The importance of good welding equipment and skilled welders cannot be overstressed. It is considered that welding machinery, both gas and electric, ranks in importance
with the bulldozer in modern warfare. It is of special importance in a war zone where the supply position is often difficult and where the application of welding permits improvising of much useful equipment.'
This tribute to the welders of Works Services bestows well merited praise on men who worked very long hours under climatic conditions that made even a normal day's work exhausting.
The deadline was closing in on the 230 tired, grimy and sweaty sappers. The seven-day week, the 6.30 a.m. to 5.30 p.m. working day, the heat, the food, and the unbroken monotony were beginning to tell their tale of irritation and frayed nerves. The division was in action. When would the wounded arrive? There-was a rumour that the staff of the temporary 4th NZ General Hospital in Boguen Valley was moving into Dumbéa. Wards two, three and four were completed; in five the plumbers were installing the lavatory system and carpenters were finishing the mosquito netting along the windows. Each ward was a self-contained unit, consisting of two 30-bed wings well ventilated and insect proof. Between the wings was a service block consisting of kitchen for washing up, a linen room, a sterilising room, staff rooms, showers and lavatories. Electric light and hot and cold water were installed throughout. Just above the wards was the operating theatre. Until ready for an operation it was like a Rolls Royce chassis without an engine. Electricians were installing powerful electric lights, painters were busy on reflectors, plumbers hurried on with the sewerage. Everywhere men were swarming over the building; it had to be rushed, but it had to be accurate.
Across the road from the operating theatre a dispensary, a laboratory and a kitchen were being wired and internal fittings, shelves and sanitation completed. The carpenters, plumbers and electricians were beginning to see an end to the first part of their job. But not so the other services section men who were on the roads, the drains, the culverts, septic tank and watermains. Situated on the steep sides of the valley, hospital sanitation, sewer
The effort made by the men at the end of the construction end was paralleled by the technical staff of surveyors, draughtsmen and orderly clerks. From the commencement, records of building costs, progress charts and many graphs were kept of the progress of all phases of the work carried out, This accounting system was one of the most thorough undertakings in the Nzefip theatre of war and, along with official reports, should prove a valuable basis for future work in the islands of the South Pacific.
On Wednesday night, 4 October, the evening before the arrival of the first battle casualties, Works Services completed phase one of the 4th NZ General Hospital. Within a month the men had transferred what had been a scrub-infested wilderness into a working hospital capable of allowing the New Zealand troops to receive the best medical attention their country could give them. By the end of the week plans for a four-day holiday had the first party out enjoying a complete break from camp. Through Mr. Ymca at the New Zealand transit camp, arrangements were made with the United States base recreation officer for the use of American facilities at Ducos, Anse Vata and Shangri-La, three rest camps in Noumea, Daily launch trips, the Hickson picture theatre, and various other outings were so planned that those who wished first to sample the various brands of Noumea entertainment were at liberty to do so.
Phase two of the hospital included the building of a further six 60-bed wards all of which had to be connected up with the main sewerage, road and electric systems. Ward one, which was the last to be built, was erected under test conditions in less than a day and a half, which gives some idea of the skill with which prefabrication had been mastered. The administrative block, which covered pay, records, registration, medical, receiving and discharge office, all had to be fitted into the general plan. To this had to be added the hospital services such as laundry, boilerhouse, power plant, dietician, massage, staff kitchens, mess halls and recreational facilities.
It will not be surprising then to know that 60 chains of roads had to be tar sealed, access roads and paths formed, over half a mile of watermains installed, a reinforced concrete 68,000 gallon water storage reservoir built, and a 30,000 gallon septic tank constructed. 'HMS Neverfail' churned out well over the 2,000 cubic yards of crushed metal. Such an array of figures conveys little of what that means in terms of energy to the New Zealander who has not laboured under the tropic sun. The names of those men did not reach the headlines, but the did a job that demanded everything they could give in terms of exertion.
How the units of the Third Division celebrated Christmas, 1943, unit historians will no doubt reveal with reservations. For Works Services the occasion was one that cannot be allowed to pass unrecorded. The recorder, like the recording angel, has not unfortunately, the power of omniscience which would have permitted him to chronicle the celebrations of the wharf operating company, and that of HO Works and the detachment at base camp. The reader is invited to believe that the company happenings were duplicated. Under the supervision of
With phase two of the 4th NZ General Hospital almost finished, plans for the erection of the Kiwi Club at Bourail Beach, and the convalescent hospital at Kalavere, were drawn up by Hq Works. Soon parties of men under command of Lieutenant S, R. Mann moved up from Dumbéa Valley. The club site was forbidding. Huge cacti, stunted niaouli trees, swamp grass and masses of drift wood constituted the home of sandflies, stick insects and bugs that cluttered up one's hair and ruined the flavour of the tea.
The club occupied 26,000 square feet of this ancient habitation which was transformed into a spot where the best meal on the island, with a bottle of beer, could be obtained for the sum of one and threepence; moreover it was served by a member of the Kiwi WAAC Company. As a rest spot it was almost ideal. There was a writing room, a reading lounge, cafeteria, large kitchen, servery, and bulk store.
From the Kiwi Club to the convalescent hospital site at Kalavere was only a matter of 20 miles. There were almost as many miles of mud around the 'Con Depot.' It was just one 'helluva place' for red slush. Here the wharf operating personnel became, in their own language, 'thoroughly browned off 'with so much drain digging. They did have some justification for their attitude for they had dug holes until they went through the motions of digging as soon as they sighted a shovel. They had dug drains at the 4th General Hospital, they had dug them at the Kiwi Club and they dug them at the 'Con Depot.' A man would go through the soles of a pair of working boots in a fortnight.
The New Zealand Convalescent Hospital was situated in the same area as the Kalavere Hospital, a 3rd Division hospital for the area. The 'Con Depot,' as it was known, was a four-warded hospital which followed in small scale the '4th Gen' in Dumbéa Valley. To the four wards were added the operating theatre, female ward, administration block, laundry, bulk stores and
The following quotation, taken from an official report by Major Blacker to Army Hq, Wellington, on the works services programme, is applicable to the personnel who worked on the 'Con Depot' as much as to any other party:—
'The writer would like to place on record his appreciation of the fine work done by all ranks under his command. The fact that the many problems encountered were successfully overcome was entirely due to the interest, enthusiasm, ingenuity and resource of the rank and file without whose efforts, often under arduous conditions, the programme entrusted to Works Service Engineers could not have been carried out.' On 3 May, 1944, the Construction Company Hq. and all personnel at 4th General, but for a small detachment, returned to the base camp at
As works programme of the construction company tapered off the engineer stores staff had to be increased to handle what looked like a Christmas rush with Lieutenant D. Brooker likely to play Father Christmas. In the preceding 17 months the stores had been the receiving and distributing centre for engineer stores and equipment. The big warehouse was none too large for the supplies which ranged from 1,000 tons of cement, 100 tons of nails, a complete ice-cream plant, 27 different types of water pumps and spare parts, 20 electrical lighting plants, bridging equipment, wire ropes, nuts, bolts, fittings and accessories for anything from hospitals to baths. In the timber yard there was over 250,000 superficial feet of timber, box girder bridges, and heaps of prefabricated panels.
As tools and equipment were handed back to the engineer stores from construction company personnel, and the return of 3rd NZ Divisional Engineers from the combat zone brought more work, Lieutenant Brooker would have been mistaken for a New Hq Works, Sapper 'Hec' Mulholland and
'Men full of strange oaths and bearded like pards 'who told fantastic stories of 'jungle juice' and Japanese in the 'forward area' now took up quarters in works base camp area. They were the Div. Engineers returning from the combat zone. 'A tough bunch of pretty good guys' an American soldier described them. They looked a piratical crew in moustaches and beards that would have done credit to the Spanish Main, the pride of crop being the 'Handle-bar Hank' of
Among the field company personnel who returned were
There was no rest in the final weeks in New Caledonia. Crates and boxes had to be made. Carpenters, mechanics, welders, 'plumbers and painters all joined in the double shift at the saw bench. Crating up and cleaning the equipment fell to the staff of engineer stores who had all the checking and consigning to handle as the convoys set up a continuous procession to Nepoui wharf, where the wharf operating company was working the clock round.
By the beginning of September, 1943, works service engineers had packed up. All that remained was to embark for home. The war of the South Pacific had shifted to Central Pacific waters. Noumea was no longer protected by blimps; airfields no longer bristled with fighters and bombers; American regiments which had loaned equipment and had placed their entertainment and canteen facilities at the service of works personnel had moved north. 'Kaiwai 'and Yank friendships cemented over a period of living
At 2 p.m. on 20 September 'the boys' embarked at Noumea. For some it marked the end of their military obligations; for others it was but an introduction to the historic battlefronts of Europe. As a summary of the 17 months in New Caledonia the following extract from a contribution to Doserdust by the CO of the construction company, Major Blacker will serve as an epilogue:—
'I do not think that New Zealand could have gathered together in one unit a better array of technical ability than has been assembled in this company of ours which, after its initial growing pains, built itself into a good team. I am aware that many of our members would have preferred to have taken a more active part in the forward area, but I think you will all recognise that you were the right men in the right place. Had it been necessary, as it might have been, I am sure you would have done equally well in the forward area had you been called upon.
'I have no hesitation in saying that the conduct of the unit both at work and at play has been creditable both to the Kiwi Force and to New Zealand. I hope that the year that has passed has cemented friendships that will continue in the future and that our experiences here have given us a wider understanding of New Zealand and the Pacific'
In the compilation of this nominal roll of engineers who served with B Force and the Third Division a check of all routine orders and embarkation rolls was carried out but great difficulty-was experienced in tracing the movements of personnel within the different engineer units and X lists. Omissions, however, have been safeguarded against as carefully as is possible in the circumstances. Ranks given are, as far as can now be ascertained, those held substantive on transfer from the corps of engineers, rather than those last held in any particular unit.
It has, unfortunately, not been possible to record the sphere of service individually, but the islands on which each company was represented are set out below:—
The complete set of unofficial histories of the Third Division, 2nd NZEF IP, is as under:—
Artillery Units
Engineer Units
Divisional Headquarters, 8th Brigade Headquarters, 14th Brigade Headquarters, and Divisional Signals
Medical Units
Base Units, 15th Brigade Headquarters, 1st Scots and Ruahine Battaliosn
Army Service Corp Units
Tank Squadron, Ordnance Units and Machine-gun Companies