Supply Company

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SUPPLY COMPANY

The authors of the volumes in this series of histories prepared under the supervision of the War History Branch of the Department of Internal Affairs have been given full access to official documents. They and the Editor-in-Chief are responsible for the statements made and the views expressed by them.

A supply point at the Hove Dump

Title page Official History of New Zealand in the Second World War 1939–45 SUPPLY COMPANY P. W. BATES WAR HISTORY BRANCH DEPARTMENT OF INTERNAL AFFAIRSWELLINGTON, NEW ZEALAND1955 SET UP, PRINTED AND BOUND IN NEW ZEALAND BY COULLS SOMERVILLE WILKIE LTD. DUNEDIN

Foreword

windsor castle

by lieutenant-general lord freyberg, vc, gcmg, kcb, kbe, dso

IT is a pleasure and an honour for me to write this foreword to the history of this fine unit.

The Divisional Supply Company went overseas with the First Echelon of the New Zealand Expeditionary Force and was among the earliest of our units to see active service in the Western Desert in General Wavell's 1940 campaign. In 1941 it served in the Greek campaign, where it lost its vehicles and all its equipment. When evacuated it fought as infantry in the Battle of Crete where it had heavy losses and fought with great distinction. It returned to Egypt where it was re-equipped and replacements found for its many casualties. It took a full part in the winter campaign in Libya. It then served in Syria and returned to the Desert for the great campaigns of 1942 and until the end in Tunisia in 1943. The Company continued to serve the Division in Italy until the end. In all it was more than six years on active service overseas.

I feel that our greatest contribution to New Zealand's war effort was in the North African campaigns, in which high mobility and sound administration were essential and often decisive. New Zealanders were ideally suited for this class of warfare, which required initiative, technical skill, and ability to find their way about the trackless Desert in the night, which they seemed to do by instinct.

The Divisional Supply Company was always an efficient and adaptable unit which served the Division well throughout its entire existence. Throughout the war the New Zealand Army Service Corps, of which it was a part, never failed us. I am certain that without their resourcefulness and skill we could not have attempted, let alone carried out, the long marches such as the turning movements at Agheila and the Mareth line.

This is a great story of the record of the service of one of the most efficient units of the 2nd New Zealand Division, which I hope will be widely read.

Deputy Constable and Lieutenant Governor

Windsor Castle

9 September 1955

Preface

WHEN New Zealand's first troops were sent abroad, to serve in the South African War, the fleetest transport was the horse and the strongest the bullock—an unequal combination in mobile operations.

In World War I motor transport was primitive and the horse still predominant. When World War II came along the Army hadn't any experience to speak of in what might be called motorised warfare, yet somehow the New Zealand Division seemed to fall quite naturally into a life on wheels. Nowhere was this more clearly shown than in the Army Service Corps, of which Supply Company was a part.

World War II contained something of everything: precipitate flight, dogged defence, confused manæuvre, swift pursuit. There were static periods, mobile periods, and there were times when, as a supply group, Supply Company hardly existed at all. The way in which it met each change of circumstance provides the student of supply and transport with profitable lessons, and should give the general reader, too, an insight into what is entailed in keeping an army in the field supplied with food.

Supply Company's history has its moments of glory, but it is largely a story of devotion, of behind-the-scenes work that was an indispensable part of every operation the Division ever did. It brought the Company plenty of adventure and excitement, and its fair share of hard work.

A great many people have helped in the compilation of this history, and my thanks are due to them all, both former members of the unit and members of the staff of the War History Branch. But particularly I must thank Messrs R. E. Rawle, J. R. Morris and W. G. Quirk, without whose willing backing the Company's story could not have been so fully told.

Contents

Page FOREWORD v PREFACE vii 1 MOBILISATION AND DESPATCH TO EGYPT 1 2 WAVELL'S CAMPAIGN 10 3 SECOND AND THIRD ECHELONS 23 4 WITH THE DIVISION IN GREECE 29 5 EVACUATION 50 6 CRETE 78 7 ADVANCE INTO LIBYA 132 8 FROM LIBYA TO SYRIA 184 9 RECALL TO THE DESERT 203 10 THE PURSUIT 234 11 TUNISIA 264 12 ARRIVAL IN ITALY 287 13 SANGRO AND CASSINO 293 14 HOVE DUMP 305 15 ROME AND FLORENCE 317 16 ON THE ADRIATIC COAST 325 17 THE FINAL ADVANCE 339 18 END OF THE WAR 354 ROLL OF HONOUR 361 SUMMARY OF CASUALTIES 362 HONOURS AND AWARDS 363 OFFICERS COMMANDING 363 INDEX 365

List of Illustrations

Frontispiece A supply point at the Hove Dump New Zealand Army (G. R. Bull) Following page The Sobieski A. A. Pullen 46 Supply Column on the after-deck of the Sobieski A. A. Pullen 46 Rough going behind Maadi in March 1940 G. S. Boanas 46 Supply railhead at Abu Haggag H. M. Jacobs 46 Railhead in the Western Desert New Zealand Army 46 Collecting unit rations New Zealand Army 46 Dumping petrol in the Western Desert New Zealand Army 46 Ration convoy New Zealand Army 46 Brewing up New Zealand Army 78 A dust-storm at the Supply Point at Qasaba A. A. Pullen 78 Sollum, December 1940 A. A. Pullen 78 Bardia Harbour from Upper Bardia G. S. Boanas 78 A Supply Column truck after a crash into an Egyptian petrol tanker in December 1940 J. H. Rich 78 Breaking camp at Qasaba before the move to Greece A. A. Pullen 78 Supply Column billets at Dene Lodge, Ash Green, England, in September 1940 R. E. Rawle 78 Lunch time in the Supply Column area in Katerini J. S. Tomlinson 78 Mount Olympus from above the camp north of Katerini R. E. Rawle 112 Field Supply Depot south of Olympus J. L. McIndoe 112 Livadhion, a village above Ay Dhimitrios J. L. McIndoe 112 Village belles, Tricola, near Salonika J. S. Tomlinson 112 Supply Column camp area south of Elasson R. E. Rawle 112 Cookhouse at Atalandi on 20 April 1941 H. M. Jacobs 112 On the Thurland Castle after evacuation from Greece J. S. Tomlinson 112 Approach to Kea Island early on the morning of 25 April G. S. Boanas 112 Above the harbour of Kea Island I. C. Macphail 144 The march across Kea Island I. C. Macphail 144 Ay Marina, Crete G. S. Boanas 144 The village of Platanias (high on left) from Ay Marina. Maleme is in the right distance—from the painting by J. L. McIndoe 144 The airborne invasion German official 144 A transport section with new trucks prepared to move from Helwan R. E. Rawle collection 144 Headquarters area near Fuka J. R. Morris collection 144 Truck on fire at Fuka A. B. Watt collection 176 Archie McMillan's LAD A. B. Watt collection 176 The approach march into Libya, November 1941 N. M. Pryde collection 176 Workshops Section under shellfire from tanks N. M. Pryde collection 176 Desert formation near Tobruk N. M. Pryde collection 176 Shell bursting on the escarpment above Tobruk C. N. D'Arcy 176 Supply Company Headquarters near Tobruk C. N. D'Arcy 176 Italian guns within the Tobruk defences C. N. D'Arcy 176 Rolling a truck at Ed Duda before dismantling for spare parts A. B. Watt collection 176 Crossing the Sinai Desert on the way to Syria G. Lyon collection 208 Supply Company butchery at Aleppo G. Fordyce 208 In the Lebanons G. Lyon collection 208 Ancient caves in the Bekaa valley, Syria G. Lyon collection 208 A crashed Stuka in the Alamein Line, August 1942 R. E. Rawle collection 208 Flood in the desert south of Fuka N. M. Pryde collection 208 On the ‘left hook’, El Agheila G. Lyon collection 208 NZASC marching past Mr Churchill at Castel Benito, near Tripoli G. Lyon collection 208 German prisoners at Tebaga Gap G. Lyon collection 240 Signboard R. E. Rawle collection 240 Italian muleteers packing New Zealand rations on the Sangro front G. Fordyce 240 A military policeman rings up another traffic post at the start of the Inferno-North Road tracks New Zealand Army (G. F. Kaye) 240 The Inferno track to Hove Dump New Zealand Army (G. R. Bull) 240 Supply Company vehicles at the Bailey bridge in the Fabriano Gorge D. R. Orange 240 Supply Point at Ancona New Zealand Army (G. F. Kaye) 240 Supply Point at Forli D. R. Orange 272 Bombed supply area at the silk factory, Forli D. R. Orange 272 Passing through Padua on the way to Trieste D. R. Orange 272 Maj I. E. Stock and Brig S. H. Crump 272 Maj E. J. Stock 272 Capt E. P. Davis 272 Maj N. M. Pryde 272 Maj J. R. Morris 272 Maj L. Bean 272 Maj R. E. Rawle 272 Maj L. W. Roberts 272

List of Maps and Diagrams

Facing page Central and Eastern Mediterranean 3 Supply Company Movements in the North African Campaigns 11 Greece 37 Crete 79 Southern Italy 281 Northern Italy 315 In text Page Composite Battalion, Galatas, 20 May 1941 90 Field Maintenance Centres in November 1941 Campaign 142 Eastern Mediterranean 198 Supply Company Movements, June-November 1942 212 Left Hook round El Agheila 245 Left Hook at Mareth 265 Gabes to Enfidaville 276 New Zealand Divisional Supply Routes in the Apennines 306

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

CHAPTER 1 Mobilisation and Despatch to Egypt

DOWN from the Greek hills came a straggling, weary line of Australian infantrymen. One company was missing, and they were all more than twelve hours overdue at their rendezvous with the trucks that were to carry them back down the road of retreat. It was now late afternoon, and twenty-seven New Zealand three-tonners had been waiting since shortly before the previous midnight. As the khaki platoons assembled, there began a deep chorus of motor engines, and soon hot tins of meat and vegetables were handed out to the troops. The stoves were the exhaust manifolds of the trucks. Then the convoy went twisting along the road, while the sprawling men under the canopies nodded into semi-somnolence, their minds blanketed under fatigue and the rhythmic whirr-whirr of engine and transmission. For them this was a pause between one losing battle and the next, a few miles gained towards escape from indefinite captivity.

It was still a young war on this April day in 1941, a time when the greatest virtue was valour in defeat. The battles then being fought would be recorded with pride, but shadowed in the memory by the towering victories of later years. Yet here, in defeat, those victories were born. Here, less than a year since these men had been scattered civilians in a thousand different jobs, they were knitted together in a joint enterprise against overwhelming forces. Here, without favour or prejudice, the clear mirror of adversity reflected their qualities and disclosed the nature of the battles to come—hard battles, made so by the spirit shown in Greece.

All this was clear enough from the fighting man's point of view. Fighting is the business of war, and it is in these terms that people think. But fighting is sustained only by a myriad of minor, unsung, often half-forgotten tasks; by such things as twenty-seven trucks waiting patiently for missing troops; by a hot meal, welcome and unexpected, thrust into the hands of the dog-tired soldier; by steady, skilful driving into the dusk along a strange road. That is the story of this history. Not precisely these things, because although these were trucks of 2 New Zealand Divisional Supply Column (later renamed 1 Supply Company), it was not the duty of the Column to carry troops or, directly, to feed them. But as part of the Army Service Corps, its duty was service, and service is a liberal word. This is a story of service.

Throughout the war Supply Column's job was to assemble food, carry it and issue it—just that. A simple task to define, more complex to put into practice. In terms of people, a division represents a fair-sized town—15,000 men or more. To these men for the greater part of six years, 365 days of each year, the Column brought three meals a day; they brought it across deserts, over mountains, through enemy fire, past prowling tanks. They brought it, and then in business-like manner set up shop and apportioned it out to the quartermasters, whatever the weather or the closeness of the enemy. This was their job, and like any soldier's job it took no account of difficulties and dangers. It was there to be done; it was done. If the Column stopped at all, it was to fight or to shoulder another task.

For this work they were known, with the soldier's irreverence, as ‘jam jugglers’, and for the early part of their life in the army there may have been a lurking suspicion that wizardry of some sort was going to be needed if their unit was ever to operate in the field. When Supply Column came into being at Burnham in October 1939 there was not even a skeleton to clothe: there was one permanent staff instructor, little transport to speak of, even less idea at first of what was expected of the unit, and certainly none of how it was really going to perform its task when it finally caught up with the war.

For that matter, it was not known in the beginning whether the unit would ever catch up with the war, because when the first volunteers of the 2 NZEF were mobilised on 3 October 1939 they were drafted into what was known as the Special Force, which had no specifically designated purpose, or none that was disclosed. Feeling its way through this haze of uncertainty, Supply Column gathered knowledge as it went along, and when it emerged into a clearer light found itself charged with the task of victualling the Division, or at any rate the First Echelon. Its guiding principle was: ‘The troops must be fed.’ It was, in effect, the last link in the supply chain to the forward troops, and as such it was one of the services that in part governed the mobility of the Division.

Though Supply Column was formed in October, a month after the outbreak of war with Germany, it came into being officially in November, with the issue that month of a provisional war establishment. On 8 December this provisional establishment was superseded by a new one providing for 280 officers and other ranks, plus four attached other ranks. It was split into headquarters, two echelons and a workshops section. Headquarters, which included supply details and tradesmen, had a strength of 38; Nos. 1 and 2 Echelons, each with a strength of 107, consisted of echelon headquarters, with supply details, and two sections, which in their turn were divided into sub-sections; Workshops Section, or J Section, was divided into section headquarters and a subsection. In theory, each echelon would carry one day's rations to the Division on alternate days, drawing from a railhead or a depot and distributing to units at a supply point. It was the task of Workshops Section to keep the vehicles on the road.

This strength, of course, was only for the First Echelon, as the Special Force became, and Supply Column was added to as the Second and Third Echelons were sent overseas. Later, when its name was changed, its composition was also revised.

So, as the Army drew up establishments and converted them into intricate tables of strengths of men, weapons and vehicles, Supply Column took form and began to scrape about for its knowledge. Staff-Sergeant Pullen

Capt A. A. Pullen; Burnham; born Calcutta, 13 Jul 1907; Regular soldier.

was the sole Regular Force instructor, and in their technical training the men were led through training manuals by instructors who kept one jump ahead of their pupils. Although the unit's operations were based on motor transport, there were in the camp only ten training vehicles, of which two were artillery tractors. These few trucks were shared with 4 Reserve Mechanical Transport Company, and until impressed vehicles improved the situation, technical training was confined mainly to lectures at which instructors were bombarded with questions, and not infrequently, to the satisfaction of the questioners, had to refer to the manual for the answers.

There was, of course, ordinary soldiering to be done as well. The Army Service Corps must be able to fight, and with the other units suffered gas lectures, tedious drill and weapon training, map reading and compass instruction, and all such things that to the soldier's regret go into his making.

Burnham in those days offered few of the off-duty comforts that later drafts enjoyed, and the ASC—‘still very much the Cinderella of the Division’, remarks Staff-Sergeant Pullen—was living in bell tents while most of the camp enjoyed the comparative luxury of hutments. But there were some comforts. The YMCA and Church Army provided their cups of tea; concert parties visited the camp; and eventually there was a bar, at the opening of which a clamorous mob, led by a piper, marched past the orderly room and the parade ground.

In all fairness it should be acknowledged that this was something more than just alcoholic exuberance, for there was among these first volunteers a natural buoyancy of spirit which often found its outlet in boisterous conviviality. This, for instance, is a mess parade, described by Sergeant Conway:

WO II H. H. Conway; born 8 May 1899; mechanic and fitter.

Late comers held up the queue, and those first in line would heap abuse on their heads. Although a reasonable amount of decorum was required in the mess rooms, no person within half a mile could possibly mistake the arrival of dixies from the kitchen, for this event coincided with the lusty singing of ‘He Careth for Me’.

An influenza epidemic, colloquially known as the ‘Burnham bot’, knocked some of the exuberance out of the troops in November, and for about a week the active strength of the ASC was reduced from about 550 to 200.

These were the beginnings. With these limitations and interruptions, training went ahead with nothing more definite in view than a possibility that the men when trained might be dismissed to their occupations on indefinite leave without pay. Doubt was resolved on 23 November, however, with an announcement by the Prime Minister, Mr Savage, that the Special Force would be sent overseas.

Training, for so long like a futile game of war, assumed a new significance, and though still hampered by the shortcomings of equipment, was carried out with more purpose. There was range practice at Redcliffs, an expedition that gave the motor-cyclists, at least, an inner glow of satisfaction by allowing them to deploy ahead of the convoy and hold up traffic at a busy Colombo Street intersection in Christchurch; there were unditching exercises with the diminutive fleet of transport, carried out in a state of high tension under the critical eye of the Commander NZASC, LieutenantColonel Crump;

Brig S. H. Crump, CBE, DSO, m.i.d., Bronze Star (US); Lower Hutt; born Wellington, 25 Jan 1889; Regular soldier; NZASC 1915–19; Commander NZASC, 2 NZ Div, 1940–45; commanded 2 NZEF (Japan) Jun-Sep 1947; on staff HQ BCOF and NZ representative on Disposals Board in Japan, 1948–49.

and, more fondly remembered, there was a night manoeuvre that ended, happily, near a country hotel, where impecunious drivers made good use of officers' higher rates of pay.

Training came to an end. The Advance Party of the Division sailed from Wellington on the Awatea on 11 December. With it, after three days' special leave, went Captain I. E. Stock

Maj I. E. Stock, MBE, ED, m.i.d.; Christchurch; born Christchurch, 24 May 1914; clerk; OC 4 Res MT Coy 26 Jun 1941–12 Sep 1943; OC Sup Coln 12 Nov 1940-5 Mar 1941; OC NZ Admn Gp Oct 1942-Sep 1943; OC NZ VRD, Bari, Sep–Dec 1943.

(not to be confused with the OC, Captain E. J. Stock

Maj E. J. Stock; Christchurch; born Ashburton, 19 Jan 1907; salesman; OC Sup Coln 3 Oct 1939–22 Sep 1940, 7–12 Nov 1940; wounded 22 Sep 1940.

), Staff-Sergeant Polson,

S-Sgt L. A. Polson; Christchurch; born Christchurch, 29 Oct 1911; clerk; p.w. 1 Jun 1941.

Sergeant Boanas,

WO II G. S. Boanas, EM; Christchurch; born Runanga, 13 Aug 1914; newspaper-runner supervisor.

and Drivers MacShane

2 Lt A. N. MacShane; born NZ, 24 Jul 1915; storeman timekeeper; killed in action 5 Nov 1942.

and Hinchey

Cpl L. W. Hinchey; Invercargill; born NZ, 19 Jan 1914; diesel tractor expert; p.w. 1 Jun 1941.

of Supply Column. The party disembarked at Port Said on 7 January 1940.

Meanwhile arrangements at Burnham for the embarkation of the main body were marked by the legendary clerical error through which, cynics hold, so many gain promotion. The victim was Captain E. J. Stock, who celebrated his promotion to major only to find in the morning that it was a mistake.

Those still in New Zealand went on fourteen days' special leave on 11 December, enabling them to spend Christmas at home—for many of them the last for at least four years. ‘Home for Christmas’ was to be a phrase that was to echo through the years. But in those heady days, when calamitous failures and bitter struggles lay unseen in the future, no one was thinking a great deal about coming home.

On the men's return to camp final preparations were made, and there was a farewell parade through Christchurch. The Column embarked at Lyttelton on 5 January 1940 with other units on the Polish ship Sobieski. The unit consisted now of nine officers, fifteen warrant officers and sergeants, and 265 other ranks. The Lyttelton group, Sobieski and Dunera, with HMS Leander as escort, sailed at 4.30 p.m. Cheering followed the ships as they drew away. ‘The people of New Zealand were eager to see their troops going to the help of Great Britain,’ was how it seemed to a Polish doctor on the Sobieski.

The following morning they joined the transports Orion, Strathaird, Empress of Canada and Rangitata outside Wellington. The convoy converged into formation, and under the escort of HM Ships Ramillies, Leander and Canberra, steamed westwards three abreast: Strathaird, Orion and Rangitata followed by Sobieski, Empress of Canada and Dunera. The three warships were ahead, Ramillies in the centre, and the other two on the flanks and a little further advanced. Low-flying aircraft dipped their wings in salute. At 6 p.m. those still watching New Zealand dwindle away between the blue sky and the bluer sea saw the last vestige of their country—the peak of Mount Egmont—go from view.

In impressive array, the convoy carved through the Tasman towards Australia. The men settled in—not very difficult in those early days when ships were still equipped for peace and most men had cabins. The cabins, in fact, had been the centre of a great deal of SYSTEMity before the ships left New Zealand. Only the poor old Dunera, which had been a trooper in the India service, was without luxury. She had little to commend her to soldier or mariner. Plodding along in the rear, she managed to keep station during the day, but at night invariably fell behind and at dawn would be some distance astern. The whole convoy would have to slow down to allow her to regain her position.

A spell of rough weather gave stomachs a fair test, but the convoy approached Australia across a glossy sea. On the 10th an RAAF Avro Anson droned overhead. Off the southern tip of Australia the convoy was joined first by four transports with Australian troops, Orcades, Orontes, Orford and Strathnaver, and later by a fifth, the Empress of Britain. Two more warships, HMAS Adelaide and Australia, came with them, and in three rows of three abreast, with Orford and Empress of Britain pairing off astern, the convoy passed through Bass Strait and into the storms of the Great Australian Bight.

The ships reached Fremantle on 18 January, and there was a brief pause and a chance to look over Perth. The convoy put out again on the 20th and plodded north towards the scorching heat of the Indian Ocean. Heat and limited space curbed any ambitious training, but if one observer is to be believed the daily physical drill, signalling and lectures were attended and performed with incredible enthusiasm.

‘It please me to see the soldiers doing their physical exercises and executing their orders cheerfully,’ the same Polish doctor wrote in the ship's magazine, The Transport Z6. ‘It is clear they carry out their duty as an order from their King.’

The doctor remarked on the ‘sympathy of the officers for the men, showing care for their well-being,’ and on the ‘great respect of soldiers for officers.’ This, he said, agreed with his mental picture of the English Army and the English people.

The Transport Z6 was a weekly, edited by Captain McIndoe,

Capt J. L. McIndoe, m.i.d.; Dunedin; born Dunedin, 18 Nov 1898; printer; p.w. 1 Jun 1941.

of Supply Column.

The convoy split while approaching Colombo, and the second half, which included the Sobieski, passed through the breakwaters on 30 January. There was leave on both days of the two-day stay, and a cricket match was played with a university team.

Nine days out from Colombo the convoy broke up before entering the Gulf of Suez. On 12 February a slender wedge of land became visible ahead to those on the Sobieski. It resolved itself into a crumbling escarpment, lying like a great wedge-shaped cheese tapering away to the south-east. At the north-western end it ended abruptly in a sheer bluff, at the foot of which was a long sweep of sand on which sat Tewfik.

At 9 a.m. the ship dropped anchor outside the breakwater. Across the water lay the jumbled town, and flanking it dunes of sand—a yellow-brown that became a most familiar colour over the next few years.

At 10.30 a.m. the British Secretary of State for Dominion Affairs, Mr Anthony Eden, accompanied by Major-General Freyberg, came aboard. Three-quarters of an hour later the Sobieski picked up her anchor and was towed in to the wharf near the Dunera.

With sleepy reluctance, the troops turned out next morning at half past four, breakfasted at five, and set about cleaning up the ship. At 8.15 a.m. the ship began to disgorge troops, and the train standing at the station to absorb them. Two hours later Supply Column men were watching the changing scene of a new country: streets, shops and houses of a foreign style but all passing too quickly to be seen closely; clay hovels, clustered together in primitive villages; flat infertile fields; and miles of sand.

And at last to Maadi Camp, near the rim of the Nile Valley, just beyond where the flourishing green of the Maadi township ends and the coarse yellow desert begins. The land rises here in massive undulations to where a towering escarpment, gashed and scarred by time and weather, walls off the spreading miles of arid country beyond. Here at the beginning of 1940 the First Echelon of 2 NZEF made its camp—a camp that was to be ‘home’ for the Division through the crucial years ahead.

CHAPTER 2 Wavell's Campaign

EGYPT in February 1940 was a long way from any theatre of operations. But Hitler's Axis partner, Mussolini, had troops in Cyrenaica and a dependable barrier was needed to protect the Suez Canal. Although there was no immediate enemy, there was serious purpose behind the New Zealanders' training and equipping.

The first consignment of trucks and motor cycles—on loan from the RASC—was issued to Supply Column the day after its arrival at Maadi, and the men settled down to accustom themselves to their tented camp on the fringe of the desert. In those early days the few huts were cookhouses, messrooms and canteens.

Training, which commenced in earnest on 19 February, included to the general dismay of the long-suffering men a continuation of parade-ground drill, with the added complication of keeping a rifle clean in a country where fine dust would parcel it up as it stood overnight in the tent.

One of the earliest tasks was the ‘peaceful penetration’ of an RASC depot. Early training in New Zealand had given members of supply details only a book knowledge of their work and they had contemplated with some trepidation the prospect of establishing a base supply depot for 4 Brigade. Their relief was profound when they found they were to take over an established depot. For two months RASC clerks, issuers and storemen worked beside the New Zealanders until, with some modification of system, things were working smoothly.

To all intents and purposes the depot worked almost on a civilian basis, but of course the issue of goods did not entail cash transactions. The accounting system was involved and its mastery took far longer than the manual task of handling and issuing large quantities of foodstuffs. Tinned foods formed the bulk of early issues, but fresh food, which saved shipping space and was better for the troops' health, was used in larger quantities as contracts came into operation. Local contracts for fresh vegetables, fruit and eggs were drawn up and approved when the depot commenced operations under Second-Lieutenant Quirk.

Capt W. G. Quirk, MBE, m.i.d.; Christchurch; born Timaru, 5 Apr 1911; accountant.

On the accounting side these contracts operated admirably, and all accounts submitted to the financial adviser and auditor were returned without a single observation or qualification.

In achieving fulfilment of contracts, however, the New Zealanders quickly learned that in Egyptian business all is fair that is not detected. Stones in the bottom of sacks and crates, and good quality goods stacked on top of those of inferior quality were among the tricks practised, and it took limitless patience to impress on the vendors that Tuesday was not a substitute for Monday, that lettuces would not do in place of cabbages, and that a specified weight was not something a little less.

One stratagem was far from original but highly successful for a while. A donkey train invariably delivered fresh, crisp spinach and was rewarded with unstinted praise. Soon, however, substantial and repeated discrepancies were noted between the amount received and that issued to units. An investigation disclosed that on approaching the depot the vendor halted his donkeys while he drenched his spinach in a nearby well, which incidentally had been condemned as impure. The absorbed water weighed to the vendor's advantage, but dried out by the time the spinach was issued.

This side of the Column's operations, covered by the general term ‘supply’, was of course the chief reason for the unit's existence, but far from covered its entire responsibility, for as a more or less self-contained unit its work fell into two distinct sections: supply and transport. During these early days the work was mainly static, but in the mobile warfare that lay ahead success depended as much on getting the food where it was wanted as on the unit's ability to apportion it out.

So while supply details were settling into depot duties, drivers were mastering the ways of desert transportation and NCOs the intricacies of desert navigation with prismatic and sun compasses. On hard, stony ground it was all straight going, but in the soft sand the two-wheel-drive Morris and Bedford trucks bedded down comfortably and moved on with great reluctance. A high standard of driving was quickly attained, however.

New trucks were arriving, and at intervals during March, April and May men were sent to Port Said and Alexandria to drive them back to a vehicle reception depot at Abbassia, where they were equipped with tools, wheel chains, sand mats and trays. Spare tires, which were to be so desperately needed in the desert, were supplied when available. At this time there was one to every ten trucks.

One drive from Alexandria to Abbassia was memorable. The convoy battled through a violent sandstorm and arrived at the reception depot with most of the paint sand-blasted off one side of the vehicles.

Thus training and equipping went on. Courses in motor transport and supply duties were held at Moascar, on the Canal, and at Abbassia mechanics were given trade tests. During April drivers took part in a three-day exercise held by 4 Brigade at El Saff.

Gradually a complete establishment of vehicles, including those for the anticipated Second Echelon, was accumulated. As vehicles were received—mainly Bedford 15-cwts and three-ton models, with a sprinkling of Fordson 15-cwts, Humber staff cars, Austin 8s and motor cycles—they were checked and serviced by Workshops Section.

Concurrent with this attainment of preparedness, world events were moving to a climax. During May the German forces were sweeping the Allies back across France. Then, on 10 June, when France was beaten and Britain apparently on the brink of defeat, Italy entered the war.

The peaceful aspect of the New Zealanders' life in Egypt disappeared. On the day Italy declared war Supply Column dispersed its vehicles over a previously arranged area, and next day it dug slit trenches. On the 12th two 30-cwt trucks were despatched with loads of high explosive for 2 Squadron, Royal Engineers, thought to be at Garawla, south-east of Mersa Matruh. The squadron had moved, however, and the trucks went on to Buq Buq, returning to Maadi on the 15th after covering 950 miles in an almost continuous run. This was the start. During June, July and August 4 Brigade was engaged in digging second-line defences at Garawla, and Supply Column shuttled battalions to and from the Western Desert. On 20 July vehicles were sent to a secret destination under cover of darkness: to establish a dump south of El Alamein—an obscure little place of no apparent significance.

The Column's first fully active part in the preparation to defend Egypt was to send a detachment of ninety-six other ranks to Mersa Matruh to relieve A Section, 4 RMT Company, which had been there for over two months. The detachment left Maadi on 14 August and on arrival immediately began convoy duties to Sidi Barrani.

It was a very quiet war, still. The front was silent, and the Italian Air Force never worried the Supply Column detachment. Savoias passed overhead to bomb Mersa Matruh, however, and once—on 23 August—a convoy on its way to Sidi Barrani saw fighters attacking a British tank.

The detachment's work was normal second and third-line transport duties that took it west to Sidi Barrani and east to Baggush. Supplies were carried for English, Indian, Palestinian, Cypriot and Egyptian troops, and occasionally reinforcements were taken up to the line and leave parties brought back to Matruh.

The detachment's only casualty during this time came not from enemy action but from a collision. On 23 August the detachment commander, Captain Taylor,

Capt N. Taylor; Christchurch; born Blenheim, 4 Jan 1905; salesman.

Second-Lieutenant Hastie,

Maj L. D. Hastie; Dunedin; born NZ, 9 Jan 1905; salesman.

and the adjutant of 4 RMT Company (Lieutenant Butterfield

Capt C. W. Butterfield, m.i.d.; born NZ, 23 Dec 1896; clerk; p.w. 2 Jun 1941.

), were returning from an Egyptian Army mess where they had been guests, when there was an almost head-on collision with an Egyptian load-carrier. Taylor received serious injuries necessitating his discharge from the Army as unfit.

There was a sequel to this accident. Early the following morning the wrecked car was found by Supply Column men returning from Sidi Barrani, and in time-honoured army fashion it was ‘ratted’ of battery, tools and upholstered seats. Unfortunately the seats were recognised the same day by Lieutenant Butterfield—whose only comment was, ‘Making it a bit thick, aren't you?’—and as the staff car driver was being court-martialled all articles had to be returned.

Back at Maadi, meanwhile, preparations were under way for a move to Daba, and on 4 September the Mersa Matruh detachment returned to the unit. Two days later an ASC reorganisation was effected. For operations in the Western Desert Supply Column was reduced to eight officers and 170 other ranks. The remaining three officers and 109 other ranks were amalgamated with one officer and twenty-seven other ranks of Petrol Company to form a composite ASC unit for base duties. The next day what was left of the Column moved out for Daba.

Supply Column at last was beginning to catch up with the war; obligingly the war came to meet it half-way. Four days after the Column reached the Western Desert Marshal Graziani's forces invaded Egypt.

The Italian forces, numerically far stronger than General Wavell's small army, came across the border on 13 September, three months after the Italian declaration of war, and as the British forces drew back penetrated into Egypt. At Sidi Barrani Graziani halted and began to dig in, and the situation in the Western Desert again became static. The enemy's intention was assumed to be a drive on the Suez Canal, but except for a tensely watched reconnaissance in force that moved forward 15 miles, no major move was made by the invader.

For the next three months, while General Wavell planned his counter-stroke, light British forces made sorties deep into Italian-held territory and harassed enemy positions.

The main body of Supply Column, consisting of eight officers and 170 other ranks, left Maadi on 7 September in a convoy of sixty-four trucks and thirty-four motor cycles. The yellow trucks rolled west along the desert road, reaching Daba the next day, and in typical desert style the unit went to earth near the coast. Abu Haggag became supply railhead on 20 September when the Column, with headquarters still at Daba, set up a DID (detail issue depot) there and from it supplied 4 Brigade, in a second-line defensive position at Baggush, and nearby British units.

The Column's first assignment of importance after its arrival in the desert was to transport 6000 gallons of petrol and 360 gallons of oil to Siwa, where 1 King's Royal Rifles was stationed. This was a modest enough task by later standards, but as one of the Column's earliest long cross-country runs under the security conditions of a war zone, it was of some significance in the moulding of the unit's competence. It contained a lesson no future transport officers should ignore. Supply Column learned it at the cost of its first casualty from enemy action.

Secrecy in these days was carried to the extreme of leaving the convoy drivers in ignorance of their destination—a sound enough general principle in theory. But in practice this is what happened.

There were fifteen vehicles in the convoy when it moved off on the morning of 22 September under the OC, Major E. J. Stock. The intention was to bypass Matruh, but at the gap in the fortress perimeter the convoy became entangled with an RASC convoy also heading westwards. When the confusion was cleared, Stock found he had only three trucks. The rest had gone on to Matruh and, though they weren't to know it, to their baptism of fire.

Stock despatched the three trucks through the eastern defences and, leaving Sergeant-Major Pullen to direct any further vehicles that might come through, went in pursuit of the rest of his convoy. He had just found and assembled the wayward trucks when fifty Italian aircraft droned overhead, very high. At a nearby railway crossing a train chuffed by while motor trucks waited for it to pass. It was the type of cluster airmen dream of, and the bombs came whistling down. From the safety of their high altitude, the Italian bombardiers were erratic in their aim, but there was an uncomfortable few minutes while the bombs erupted into billows of smoke and dust. When it was all over one Supply Column truck was out of commission and Stock wounded. A nearby RASC 15-cwt was blown up and its three occupants killed.

Major Stock was taken to hospital, and the command of the convoy passed to Second-Lieutenant Dill,

Capt B. R. Dill; Te Awamutu; born Australia, 19 Apr 1917; clerk; p.w. 15 Jul 1942.

of 19 Battalion, who was in charge of an escort detachment detailed to protect the convoy from any hostile bedouin. Dill took the trucks to the Siwa Track, where they were joined before dark by the other three. The complete convoy moved south and laagered for the night under the escarpment fringing the Siwa Track, and continued southwards in the morning. The convoy reached the oasis of Siwa after passing through a deep ravine, and saw in the last glow of sunlight a vista of two still lakes rimmed by thousands of date palms and olive, pomegranate and fig trees.

Captain Davis

Maj E. P. Davis; Nelson; born NZ, 4 May 1904; salesman; OC Sup Coln (actg) 22 Sep-7 Nov 1940; p.w. 1 Jun 1941.

and Sergeant-Major Pullen, who had left Baggush at eleven o'clock that morning, arrived in time to see the load delivered. The next afternoon, after a pleasant swim in Cleopatra's Pool, the convoy set out on the return journey. Daba was reached the following day (25 September).

Captain I. E. Stock assumed temporary command of the unit on 12 November.

For the next two months the Column was mainly engaged in third-line transport work, involving clearance of supplies, petrol and ammunition in addition to daily replenishment of its depot at Abu Haggag. There was little variation; on one occasion bombs were taken forward for the Desert Air Force. The road to Mersa Matruh was often congested, and frequently trucks had to use rough desert tracks.

The imminent British attack was a close secret, but in the movements of the Column early in December the shape of things to come could be seen. On 4 December the Column shifted headquarters to Qasaba to take up transport duties in forward areas, and next day it transported ammunition from Qasaba siding to dumps in the desert. On the 6th the unit began general transport work from various railway depots to field service depots (FSDs) west of Matruh.

Three days later the British attack burst over the idle Italians. Sidi Barrani was in British hands on the 10th, and the pursuit was on—to Buq Buq, Halfaya, Sollum and Fort Capuzzo. In a week Egypt was clear of the enemy. Italians scooped into the bag totalled 40,000; British casualties were fewer than 1000, and these were mainly wounded.

The major part of the New Zealand forces ‘sat out’ this operation, but the three NZASC units—Supply Column and Petrol and Ammunition Companies—were drawn in to act as general carriers. Transport was one of the keys to this victory. This was the British Army's first experience of a blitzkrieg—in the right direction—and the swift thrusts put a considerable strain on lines of communication.

Through dust and rain and over atrocious roads and desert tracks, these three New Zealand units, generally known as ‘The Colonial Carrying Company’, kept their sorely tested trucks moving with supplies and earned for themselves a reputation for reliability, willingness and efficiency. How well the job was done is vouched for by the fact that never at any time was there a shortage of essential supplies in Wavell's forces, and though the sole credit for this is far from being theirs, the New Zealanders received special praise from General O'Connor, GOC Western Desert Force.

By 18 December advanced mechanised units were firing on Bardia, but the capture of this strongly fortified position required careful planning and preparation, and no assault was attempted that month.

Behind the army came the supplies, and each step forward brought new problems for the Colonial Carrying Company. On 15 December, six days after the first assault, the field depots were already on the move and had to be found in their new locations. Three Supply Column trucks under Sergeant-Major Pullen had to find 5 FSD on this day without aid of map or compass, and with very little help from men met en route.

Though it might not have occurred to anyone at the time, a new era was opening for Supply Column. The desert, dusty, rough and above all vast, lay before it, a strange desert now, but soon to become familiar.

It was also a new era for drivers—a comfortless era. A Supply Column convoy bouncing across the desert in search of the new location of 6 Ammunition Depot, for which it had two-pounder shells and .303 ammunition, broke front main springs in two 30-cwt trucks and had three blow-outs in rear tires. The convoy commander came home to report: ‘The desert travelling was very rough, and the road Sidi Barrani-Mersa Matruh is in very poor order.’

Except when compelled, trucks rarely went far from the one road, partly because of thermos bombs,

An Italian device that looked like a khaki-coloured thermos flask; it was exploded by vibration.

thoughtfully left by the Italians, and partly because the rough going made time-saving short-cuts costly in wear and tear. But the road itself was no smooth highway. In places the bitumen was completely gone, and it was rutted and dusty. Broken springs and burst tires became daily incidentals of convoy work, and to keep trucks moving was as often a test of improvisation as of driving skill. Spring steel was like gold and tires were almost as rare, and to abandon a broken-down truck was to surrender it forever; by next day it would be found stripped to the chassis.

Even worse than the break-downs was the dust. There was always dust on the road, curling up from the bouncing wheels and closing around the driving cab in fine, choking clouds as the day-long stream of vehicles, following in the same tracks, roared and whined through a yellow pall of their own making. When the khamsin blew—usually for several days on end—the dust became an impenetrable blanket over the whole desert, reddening the eyes, clogging the throat and laying over everything a smooth, yellow coat.

This was the sort of country in which Christmas 1940—the first away from home—was spent. But it wasn't a dull Christmas. The Column gathered at Qasaba, and with the aid of turkey, green peas, cabbage, baked potatoes, plum duff and a bottle of beer plus ten cigarettes and ten piastres a man, whipped up a fine festive spirit. Driver Deaker

Dvr A. F. Deaker; born NZ, 14 Jun 1908; butcher.

was even forgiven for drinking the brandy intended for the plum pudding.

While his advanced forces stood outside Bardia, General Wavell brought up the reserves that the first easy successes had left intact, and over the closing days of December Supply Column convoys, supplemented by trucks from Petrol and Ammunition Companies, moved 2/7 Australian Battalion forward to a position beyond Halfaya. Although unmolested by the enemy—the Italian Air Force had withdrawn to bases further back and was giving even forward troops little to worry about—these trips were not without their incidents, and rough going, unfamiliar terrain, darkness, and on one occasion the haste of a guide were complicating factors that brought convoys to their destinations short by half a dozen or so vehicles. To relieve the strain on the Bedfords, Italian diesels were pressed into service.

General Wavell began 1941 with a bombardment of Bardia on New Year's Day as a prelude to an attack on the 3rd. Bardia fell on the 5th, and the pursuit was on again. At Tobruk there was another pause while ammunition and supplies were brought forward.

The capture of Sollum had enabled supplies during this build-up period to be shipped through that port, and Supply Column was left in a backwater. It carried mixed loads: rations, petrol, bombs, clothing and ordnance stores. Backloads were invariably Italian prisoners, who, though an encumbrance to the fighting units, were at least useful to drivers. It was a common sight to see Italians changing wheels, fitting new springs, and generally being made to work their passage. Few convoy reports fail to mention delays through poor road surface, broken springs or tire trouble. Though it was winter, dust was still a hindrance, too. Four three-tonners that went to Baggush aerodrome on 16 January to transfer 202 Group RAF to Sollum met a pall of dust that suspended work and held back the convoy until the next day.

And there were other things beside the elements and the road. A picture of what could happen in the desert on a seemingly simple assignment is provided by the travels of a Supply Column three-tonner that went forward to an ordnance depot at Sollum with two howitzer barrels and a scammel tire. The truck cleared the ordnance depot at Matruh at 11.45 a.m. on 17 January. A blow-out, a broken spring and a dust-storm extended the journey to Sollum into the next day. At Sollum depot there was no way of unloading the howitzer barrels. Delayed still by the sandstorm, it took Driver McDonald

Dvr M. N. McDonald; born NZ, 16 Jul 1909; farmer; died of wounds 20 Apr 1941.

a day's touring to find someone who could relieve him of the tire and a second day to get rid of the howitzer barrels. But he was still a long way from home. Tobruk was falling, and the army was on the move again, and McDonald had trouble finding someone who had the time to pause and supply him with petrol. With a load of salvage, he returned to Matruh after a five-day round trip.

Attacked on 21 January, Tobruk was captured the following day, and the British forces moved on towards Gazala, thence to Derna. Still away back at Baggush, Western Desert Force Headquarters decided it was time to move, and it was Supply Column, with supplementary trucks from a Petrol Company detachment, that transported it. Force Headquarters moved forward into Libya on 24 January, with Gambut as its intended new location. But this was apparently too timid a move to match the high optimism of the army. When the convoy arrived it was found that Headquarters was to move to Bomba, beyond Gazala and only 40 miles from Derna. Gazala had fallen into British hands only the previous day (the 24th), and British forces were still outside Derna, where the Italians put up a strong defence. Bomba was reached on the 26th, two days before the opening of the attack on Derna.

On the spot when an urgent appeal for petrol was received from the RAAF next day, the New Zealand trucks were sent back to Gazala to pick up supplies and take them forward. That night was spent at Tobruk in drenching rain. Sodden blankets and a broken-down truck didn't provide the best of starts, and the convoy, now laden with prisoners, was late in moving off for the return trip to Egypt. After dropping their cargo at Matruh, the trucks reached camp on 29 January.

Derna fell after three days' fighting, and as the Australians pushed towards Benghazi, General Wavell swung an armoured ‘left hook’ around to Beda Fomm, 60 miles south of Benghazi, and on 5 February intercepted a very surprised enemy. After a lively thirty-six hours the desert looked like a fowlhouse after a terrier has been loose inside. El Agheila, the limit of the advance, was reached next day, and the campaign, Britain's first decisive victory of the war, was over. Wavell's 31,000 men had pushed back something like 180,000 Italians and had taken 133,289 prisoners.

The end of the campaign did not end Supply Column's work. Cold, rain and an occasional flooded road now added to the general discomforts. Battle dress was still unheard of in this part of the world, and Supply Column men were in summer dress. ‘We were damned cold,’ remarks Major Stock with some feeling. The obvious remedy was the acquisition of warmer Italian clothing that had fallen into British hands, and at times the New Zealander's only identification was his grin and his unmistakable vernacular.

The unit was now operating as far as Derna. Although road improvements were being made—a convoy report dated 10 February records with a note of incredulity, ‘Sidi Barrani road is now in lot better condition. Unbroken tar sealing extends to Kilo 61.’—the lift from Qasaba to Derna was considered quite a feat. In some places the road had been heavily mined and when blown was reduced to a rough track for scores of miles. Two convoys went as far as Derna.

The second was the unit's last in this phase of operations. While it was still in Libya, the rest of the unit packed up at Qasaba and on 20 February set off for Maadi. When its vehicles rolled into the camp next day, their occupants, after five months in the Western Desert, presented a startling spectacle to fastidious eyes, for from beneath the bronzed faces peering from the cabs of these battered, dirty trucks were blue-grey Italian uniforms.

At Maadi all this time the composite company of Supply Column and Petrol Company had been attending to base transport needs, and although its life was less arduous than that of its fellows in the desert, it was kept busy. On one assignment, the transfer of an ordnance depot from Abbassia to Maadi, drivers worked daily from 5 a.m. to 8.30 p.m. Mail and parcels were loads from Tewfik, and on one of these journeys Supply Column suffered its first fatal casualty; a three-tonner ran into a stationary Egyptian petrol wagon in the pitch black, and Driver Elliott

Dvr W. T. Elliott; born NZ, 12 Oct 1905; grocery manager; died on active service 18 Dec 1940.

was killed.

Lessons? Yes, there were plenty of lessons from this first taste of war. They were mainly elementary lessons of what service conditions could be like and of how to overcome the handicaps of inadequate equipment in a place where good equipment might be considered a prime necessity. Workshops Section, for instance, could do little but fitting work. Its workshop was a three-ton truck and its tools were what had been requisitioned from the kits sent out with the Column's trucks.

What Supply Column did not get, of course, was experience in working as part of a division. But this was not far away.

CHAPTER 3 Second and Third Echelons

THE war was still quiescent when the Second Echelon of 2 NZEF was mobilised on 12 January 1940, a week after the First Echelon had left for overseas, but by the time it sailed on 2 May the Norwegian campaign was in full swing, and when it was eight days out from New Zealand the German invasion of Luxembourg, Holland and Belgium, which was to develop into the rout of France, was begun.

Training of the Second Echelon details of Supply Column at Burnham was generally along the same lines as that for the First Echelon, although revised syllabi replaced earlier ones. After final leave the contingent sailed from New Zealand on 2 May in the ships Empress of Britain, Aquitania, Empress of Japan (later renamed Empress of Scotland) and Andes, all except the Aquitania, on which Supply Column embarked, modern vessels and designed for travel in the tropics.

These ships were joined in Australian waters by the Queen Mary, Mauretania and Empress of Canada, and continued west in two lines headed by the Queen Mary and Empress of Canada.

When the convoy cleared Fremantle early in May and headed north-west, Egypt seemed assuredly to be the destination, and in Egypt the First Echelon was preparing for the arrival of the Second. On 15 May, when near Cocos Island, the convoy abruptly changed course and on the 26th put into Cape Town. The Aquitania, being unable to berth in the harbour, had to go to the naval base at Simonstown. Here the officer commanding the Supply Column detachment, Captain Creeser,

Capt W. R. Creeser; born Manchester, 27 Dec 1908; company manager; died 31 May 1940.

who had become ill early in the voyage, was taken ashore, but died before he reached hospital.

The convoy remained at Cape Town until 31 May, but because of the difficulty of lightering, troops on the Aquitania had only one day's leave.

Continuing north, the convoy touched Sierra Leone, where there was no leave—and in the sultry heat no inclination for any. On 14 June, as the ships were approaching Britain, escort reinforcements consisting of six destroyers, the aircraft carrier Argus and the battle-cruiser Hood, joined the convoy. The next day the troops had a glimpse of the battle of the Atlantic. At 9 a.m. wreckage floated by, and later in the day the convoy passed a burning tanker, stern down and bow pointing to the sky. During the afternoon a lookout on the Aquitania reported that a torpedo, fired at long range, had passed astern of the Hood and between the Queen Mary and the Aquitania, and sank at the end of its run. The ships of the convoy heeled around at right angles and steamed away at full speed. The destroyers converged on a point away on the horizon and their depth-charges threw up white fountains.

On the beautiful morning of 16 June the convoy sailed up the Clyde in an atmosphere far removed from the disturbing news that French resistance was folding up. Supply Column members went ashore from the Aquitania in ferries, landing at the Glasgow suburb of Dunoon. The train journey was along the banks of the river, through vast ship-building areas, and on into the city itself, where the drab rows of slum houses struck a jarring note in the New Zealanders' introduction to Britain. Continuing through intensively cultivated market gardens, the train ran on to Edinburgh, where a meal halt gave the troops time for a glimpse of the Scottish capital.

The train crossed the border that afternoon and wound south through trim, hedge-lined fields and compact little villages. Yorkshire presented a less colourful vista of steel plants and coal mines, and vast networks of railway sidings. York was reached at dusk.

During the night the train halted for some hours in a tunnel, presumably because of enemy aircraft. As daylight broke the men saw sleeping villages and green fields flying past again. Reading station flashed by, and at Aldershot the train stopped. Led by the depot band of the RAMC, the troops marched through the town and across a common to a camp—Cæsar's Camp—at Bourley.

The New Zealanders immediately fell into the life of the besieged island. First tasks for Supply Column were the digging of slit trenches and the setting up of an anti-aircraft gun at which a spotter was on duty throughout the day.

Supply Column shared in the transport work allotted to the NZASC and then took up its duties of issuing rations, its primary task during the stay in Britain. On 15 August more trucks were received and transport was organised into two sections, together with a headquarters and workshops section. This simplified work and increased the unit's efficiency.

Life generally was fairly pleasant as neighbouring villagers offered hospitality in off-duty hours, and troops found the English pub a pleasant place in which to pass evenings. Two days' leave was granted soon after arrival; many men went to London, and others to see relatives or friends.

Fifth Brigade was ordered to a defensive position on the Channel coast, and on 27 August Supply Column moved to Hollingbourne, near Maidstone. The brigade followed nine days later and was held as a mobile reserve for counter-attack in the event of invasion. After a conference of brigade and unit commanders called by Major-General Freyberg, who had come to Britain from Egypt, an operation order was published saying that enemy landings by sea and air were likely, and the New Zealand Division was to be prepared to counter-attack vigorously any enemy landings in 1 London Division's area, especially north and north-west of Dover and Folkestone.

Though the invasion never came, there was at least one scare in late October when New Zealand Division (UK) issued an exercise order to test the time in which units could be cleared from their billeting areas. The orders to Supply Column were that it was to be ready to move two hours after midnight. Enemy planes were overhead while, in light rain and darkness, gear was loaded onto trucks. In the absence of any explanation, the opinion was strongly held that the enemy was expected, but after a cheerless night a cancellation order came at dawn, and the affair fizzled out dismally into another routine day.

The Battle of Britain was now being fought in the air, and Supply Column men at their camp in Kent could see the formations of German bombers passing over and the curling vapour trails of dogfights too high for the aircraft to be seen. Some bombs fell in the district.

Towards the end of September the weather became cold and wet and the unit moved into more comfortable quarters in Hollingbourne House. Fifth Brigade was withdrawn from its defensive position and spent October near Maidstone. Early in November Supply Column returned to the London area, where it was billeted in Dene Lodge at Ash, seven miles from Aldershot. During November and December normal duties were carried out with the new handicaps of ice and mud.

Seven days' leave enabled troops to go as far afield as Scotland. At Dene Lodge the Column had an enjoyable Christmas in an unaccustomed wintry atmosphere.

Snow was falling on New Year's Day when the Second Echelon began to move from Aldershot to embarkation ports for the transfer to the Middle East. The ship carrying Supply Column waited a few days before joining the huge convoy bound for Egypt via the Cape.

Third Echelon members of Supply Column who entered Burnham Camp on 14 May 1940 provided two operating sections (D and H) to complete the unit. After receiving training similar to that of the two previous contingents, the Burnham men embarked on the Orcades at Lyttelton on 28 August. The convoy was joined by the liners Mauretania and Empress of Japan in Cook Strait, and by the Aquitania, with Australian troops aboard, before reaching Fremantle.

The convoy arrived at Bombay on 15 September, and the next day the troops on the Orcades disembarked and in sweltering heat marched to the railway station. From there they were transported to the racecourse, where they bunked down in the grandstand. On the 18th Supply Column men embarked on the Empress of Japan, and the convoy, minus the Ormonde, sailed next day. The Ormonde, it was later found, had been delayed by the troops because of a complaint over the food and the dirty, crowded conditions.

Suez was reached on 29 September. The troops were landed by lighters the next day and marched into Maadi Camp late in the afternoon.

Headquarters 2 NZEF at Maadi stated on 2 October that it was intended to complete all essential training of the Third Echelon—including 6 Brigade—in six weeks. Because of the shortage of drivers in 2 NZEF almost the whole of D and H Sections of Supply Column were soon supplied with vehicles and immediately began general transport work. Many took part in convoys to the Western Desert.

When the main body of Supply Column returned from the desert on 28 February, the two Third Echelon sections joined it for the first time. On 2 March 5 Brigade reached Suez from Britain and next day the main body of Supply Column moved from Maadi to Amiriya, where on the 5th it was joined by five officers, among them Major Pryde,

Maj N. M. Pryde, MBE, ED; Papakura; born Waikaka Valley, Southland, 6 May 1899; bank accountant; Div Amn Coy Nov 1939-Mar 1941; OC Sup Coy 5 Mar 1941-5 Dec 1942; OC 2 Amn Coy Dec 1942-Jun 1943.

formerly OC Ammunition Company in Britain, who took over command from Captain Stock. The latter was transferred to 4 Brigade as supply officer.

At Suez the second draft of Supply Column, newly arrived from Britain, was hastily refitting. At Amiriya, the main part of the Column was busy, too. Workshops Section and drivers were stripping vehicles, replacing worn parts and generally tuning up trucks. One substantial task was the modification of the stub axles of 15-cwt Fordsons; desert experience had shown that these broke easily, and fifteen vehicles were fitted with stub axles of the unit's own manufacture. The trouble did not recur.

The Suez group joined the Column at Amiriya on 8 March, and for the first time the unit was complete: it consisted of Headquarters, Nos. 1 and 2 Echelons, each with supply detail personnel attached, and Workshops Section. Its strength was 484 officers and men.

It was a narrow time margin that exemplified the desperate straits of the British forces in 1941. The next day the move from Egypt was begun. Where the Division was bound for few knew. Sun helmets and tropical kit had been issued, and the Sudan and India were among the conjectures; another theory was an invasion of Tripoli in North Africa. Not until they were at sea did the men learn that their destination was Greece.

CHAPTER 4 With the Division in Greece

GREECE had been fighting Italy since 28 October 1940, and had been fighting with more than moderate success. The Italian invasion was thrust back, and the Greeks in their turn invaded Italian-held Albania. During this period Greece would accept only air support, but when the concentration of German troops in Bulgaria early in March 1941 made it clear that an invasion was imminent, she had second thoughts on the subject and accepted what troops Britain could spare from the Middle East.

Major-General Freyberg was told on 17 February that the New Zealand Division would be sent to Greece as an advance guard of an Imperial force, and he sailed on 6 March with the first flight of troops across the Mediterranean. They reached Piraeus next day. The second flight, with which Supply Column sailed, was less fortunate. Some of its ships were smaller and slower and ran into heavy weather. Vehicles and drivers of the Column embarked on two ships, the City of Norwich and a Greek coaster, Marit Maersk, on 9 and 10 March, and on the 11th the remainder of the unit embarked on the 3000-ton HMS Chakla, an old troopship. The convoy put out from Alexandria early on the 12th. The sea was choppy but not unduly rough as the troops watched Alexandria dwindle away to a pinpoint and disappear below the horizon, but clouds were banking up and a brisk wind came scudding across the white-flecked sea. Off Crete the storm burst over the convoy. Deluged by towering seas and buffeted by a tearing wind, the ships scattered.

Packed away in crowded quarters below, men found rest as best they could. The Chakla was tossed about like a toy and the 1000 men beneath her battened-down hatches lived for three days in a stifling, fuggy atmosphere of stale air and vomit. During one period of twenty-four hours she covered only 40 miles.

Some ships put into Suda Bay for shelter and later straggled into Piraeus in twos and threes. But of the poor little Marit Maersk there was no sign. Lord Haw Haw later reported her sunk. She wasn't, but there were times when some thought she might be. The Marit Maersk, with a top speed of eight knots, could make little headway against the gale and her master decided to run for shelter behind the south side of Crete. Water sluiced across the decks and poured onto the trucks below, submerging some of them in a glutinous mixture of oil and salt water.

By the time the main convoy had reached Greece the limping Marit Maersk had only reached a small cove on the coast of Crete. Here Sergeant Jefcoate,

Sgt H. P. Jefcoate; Dunedin; born Dunedin, 12 Jan 1908; mechanic; wounded May 1941.

who had been injured during the storm while assisting to move the kitbags of men who were ill, was put ashore. He was taken to Canea hospital, from which after a month's stay he was flown to Athens to rejoin the Column. The ship went on to Suda Bay, and from there was escorted to Piraeus by a Greek corvette, finally reaching port at midday on 17 March.

The only incident of note during this last part of the journey was Lord Haw Haw's announcement that the Marit Maersk had been sunk by a German submarine. Laughable as it might have been, the report showed one disturbing fact: there was clearly a close enemy check on what left Alexandria and what was arriving at Piraeus. Presuming the overdue ship to have been lost, the Germans were only too happy to take the credit.

The Chakla, meanwhile, had put into Piraeus at 11 a.m. on 15 March. Riding in open trucks along the wide, straight road to Athens, Supply Column men could see on their left the towering Acropolis, crowned by the ruins of the Parthenon. Italian prisoners on the march provided some men with their first close-up view of the enemy. The trucks crawled through the crowded streets of Athens, where Greeks waved and shouted their spontaneous welcome, and rolled on past the German Embassy, on which hung the swastika. There was some belligerent talk of pulling it down, but the men reluctantly deferred to the reasoning of their officers.

The Supply Column camp was tucked away in a pine grove at Kamponia, on the lower slopes of Mount Hymettus. It was a pretty spot, and looking up the men could see the mountains flecked with fresh snow.

There wasn't much time, and there was a great deal to do. The training programme, which included route marches through the picturesque, verdant countryside—soft relief for eyes used to the glare of Egypt—was pushed on, and Workshops Section faced the formidable task of reconditioning trucks that had come from the ships' holds sodden with salt water. Mechanical damage was extensive, and motors had to be dismantled and cleaned, electrical systems rewired, and parts replaced.

However, there was time to make friends with the Greeks and to see something of Athens and its inhabitants. There was champagne to be bought at 45 drachmae (1s. 8d.) a bottle, though it cost 440 drachmae in cabarets. There was also 1848 vintage wine to be bought at a monastery on a hill for 18 drachmae. Greek vocabularies that had been issued were well thumbed, and whether they went to see objects of ancient art or history or merely for entertainment, the men found the capital an agreeable city. The only note of unfriendliness was struck by a group of Germans outside the monastery who looked contemptuously at the New Zealanders and spat. On one day German civilians from the Embassy were uninvited guests to the Column's camp, where with interested eyes they strolled casually through the open park.

Within a few days of arrival the Column got down to serious work. On 19 March the unit was divided into two, and Headquarters, Workshops Section and No. 2 Echelon were sent to a staging camp at Kifisia, an hour's journey from Athens. No. 1 Echelon remained in the Athens area.

At 7 a.m. on 21 March the trucks of the Kifisia group climbed through the Thebes hills and ran north past Mount Parnassus through the richly green countryside on the first leg of the long journey to Katerini, in northern Greece. Their route took them through Atalandi and along the coast to Molos.

Greece was a country the New Zealanders took to their hearts. It was a country of warm friendliness, of spontaneous welcome: as the trucks whined by, exuberant Greeks waved and shouted, ‘Welcomss boyss howarya.’ It was a country of classic beauty, of green and purple and pale blue hills, of olive groves and vineyards; and through the green ran a tinge of red from the multi-coloured soils. It was a country with an old-world charm, with its quaint churches in which storks nested, plodding mules and trim little donkeys, and shepherdesses in colourful costume. In the disasters to come later men consoled themselves with the thought that Greece was a country worth fighting for; and later still in the war, when the future employment of the Division appeared to hang in the balance, there were veterans of Greece who hoped to return.

On 21 March Supply Column men drank in the impressions that were the genesis of this spirit. They laagered that night south of Lamia, by a small sea enclosed by Euboea Island, where olive groves reached down to the water's edge. Some went in for a swim, though it was a cool night and balaclavas were welcome. Next day the convoy drove north through the morning mist, across the plain of Thessaly and into the rail and road junction of Larisa, a sorry sight after the double destruction of earthquake and Italian bombing.

Leaving the cobbled streets, the trucks travelled on for another five miles before a halt was called, 60 miles from the destination. Next day, the 23rd, the transport crested the foothills to the north and reached the base of the towering mountain range dominated by the snow-capped Mount Olympus. The road zigzagged steeply through the wooded pass, then dipped down through a narrow, sunless defile where Ay Dhimitrios clung to the mountainside. That morning the convoy passed through Katerini and moved on another two and a half miles to the village of Neon Keramidhi, and in an environment so unwarlike as to suggest a rest camp preparations were begun.

It was a green, open country. A river ran by the tented camp, and the dominating mass of Olympus, its peak often wreathed in cloud, was a constant background. Red anemones grew wild, and butterflies added a final idyllic touch. In nearby Katerini men found plenty to interest them, and friendships were quickly made. The town's shops, quaint to New Zealand eyes, were well stocked, and meals of eggs and chips, and sometimes lamb chops, could be bought in its restaurants.

To supply the forward areas a chain of administration centres was set up. With Athens as Base, Larisa was chosen as Advanced Base. From Larisa four field supply depots were planned, at Katerini, Veroia, Edhessa and Amindaion. As the New Zealand Division was supplied by a daily train from Athens, Supply Column was free to help other administration units stock the FSDs.

The Column took over 4 FSD at the railhead at Katerini from an RASC unit, and moved the depot to a schoolhouse at Neon Keramidhi. The transfer took three days, and issues began to New Zealand units.

No. 1 Echelon, meanwhile, was still back at Athens carrying out transport supply duties in base sub-area. Over 26, 27 and 28 March this group moved to a point about 40 miles north of Larisa, hard up to Mount Olympus on the southern side, and came under the control of 1 Australian Corps, shortly to become Anzac Corps. Here, about three miles north of the Servia-Katerini-Flasson road junction on the Katerini-Elasson road, its transport section was employed in stocking up 1 FSD from the railhead at Larisa, and supply details worked beside RASC men preparatory to taking over the depot on the night of 6–7 April. This depot supplied some units, but the orders given to the officer in charge, Captain Jacobs,

Capt H. M. Jacobs; Dunedin; born NZ, 17 Nov 1909; tobacconist.

were to form and hold a depot which would operate as a reserve.

New Zealand units, as they moved up into position, drew from both these depots, those east of Ay Dhimitrios from 4 FSD and those south of Olympus Pass from 1 FSD. They called for supplies with their own transport, which left Supply Column vehicles free to do the tasks involved in establishing both depots and to bring fresh supplies from Salonika.

Thus, at the eleventh hour, preparations went ahead. Supplies, discharged from ships in the south, came north by rail, and thence by truck along the crowded, twisting roads. North along these roads, too, went other trucks, together with guns, miles of them. No one could know then that all this effort was too late and too little.

The prospect was appalling. For the defenders of Greece it was one of those moments in life when it is better not to know what the future holds. Here, at the beginning of April, Supply Column was assembling its dumps with the patient faith of a man setting himself up in a dry watercourse while his fellows construct a flimsy dam upstream to check a deluge it is known must come. And the dam was never finished.

On the Bulgarian frontier were about ten German divisions, with only weak Greek divisions to check them. New Zealand Division and 1 Armoured Brigade were in forward areas, and 6 Australian Division was arriving. The line chosen for the defence of Greece, the Aliakmon line, ran from Neon Elevtherokhorion, on the coast, to a point near Mount Kaimakchalan, with a detachment at Amindaion to cover the Monastir Gap, through which entry could be gained to Greece from Yugoslavia. Although it was hoped that the Yugoslavs would fight, a second position based on the formidable range around Mount Olympus and the western end of the Aliakmon River was reconnoitred; this line did not depend on Yugoslav participation.

New Zealand Division prepared to hold the east end of the Aliakmon line in an area just north of Katerini, which of course is why Supply Column set up 4 FSD near that town. Just behind this and forward of the Olympus positions, road and bridge demolitions were prepared. Fourth and 6 Brigades were in the forward line, while 5 Brigade was in reserve preparing positions on the slopes of Mount Olympus, with 21 Battalion at Platamon.

Detached from the Division, 27 (Machine Gun) Battalion, less two companies, was with the Amindaion detachment. A Supply Column vehicle attached to it operated with it throughout the campaign.

The Germans struck down through Greece and Yugoslavia on 6 April, and by the 9th Western Thrace and Salonika had been swallowed up. Supplies of fruit and vegetables ceased coming to Supply Column on the 8th, but the imminence of German occupation appeared to have no detrimental effect on the inhabitants' hospitality. Lieutenant Tomlinson,

Capt J. S. Tomlinson; born Dunedin, 7 Feb 1914; bank officer.

who visited the city on that day, returned with gifts of Albanian lace and memories of a hero's reception.

Driving down through Yugoslavia against negligible opposition, the Germans reached the Monastir Gap on 9 April, threatening to drive a wedge between the British forces in the Aliakmon line and the Greek forces still grappling with the Italians further west. The Amindaion detachment was reinforced, and 4 Brigade moved to Servia to act as a pivot for the now necessary withdrawal to the Olympus-Aliakmon River line; No. 2 Echelon of Supply Company helped to carry 20 Battalion in this move. This left 6 Brigade with an open flank, but on 9 April New Zealand Division was ordered to draw back to the Olympus Pass and Platamon railway tunnel positions. Sixth Brigade went back to Elasson, leaving 5 Brigade the forward positions on the Olympus line. By the evening of 10 April the New Zealanders were ready in the second line of defence.

All this shifting and shuffling would be complicated enough if it involved only troops. But there was a great deal more to it than that. The step backwards left Neon Keramidhi in no-man's-land, and in a hectic two days every pound of supplies, so carefully built up by Supply Column, had to be packed and shifted back; at the same time supply dumps had to be established for the new positions.

The first ripple of this upheaval reached the Column at 11 p.m. on the 8th in the shape of an order to dump ten days' rations in the battalion areas of two of 5 Brigade's battalions, which were already in their defensive positions at the northern entrance to Olympus Pass. In addition, thirteen days' rations were to be railed to 21 Battalion, which was guarding the Platamon tunnel, between Olympus and the sea. Loading began at 2.30 a.m. on the 9th, and though the Column was short of trucks because of the absence of No. 1 Echelon at 1 FSD, the supplies for the Olympus position were delivered by 8.30 a.m. that day, and soon afterwards the supplies for 21 Battalion were packed aboard railway trucks at Katerini.

That was a reasonably vigorous start. The next disturbance came from oral orders during the morning to evacuate 4 FSD. First 10,000 rations and 5000 gallons of petrol were to be dumped at the 9 kilometre post at the entrance to Olympus Pass, and 25,000 rations were to be dumped in 6 Brigade's area at Elasson; all that then remained at Neon Keramidhi was to be railed to Larisa. The order for 6 Brigade's rations was later cancelled.

The Olympus Pass dump was established, normal issues for the day made to units, and then the Column began its huge task of clearing away from the path of the approaching enemy 300,000 rations and 86,000 gallons of petrol, in all 1000 tons. Officers and men bent their backs, and by midday the trucks were shuttling over the three miles between Neon Keramidhi and the railhead at Katerini. Help arrived in the form of twenty three-tonners from No. 1 Echelon, which had come forward to carry back 20 Battalion but were not yet required. They continued to assist until evening.

As the work went on into the night, rain and mist came down and the wheels churned the ground around the railway sidings into cloying bog. At last, at 2.30 a.m. on the 10th, when the men had been working twenty-four hours without a break, work was called off for a few hours and there was time to snatch a little sleep. In the bleak early hours the men were roused, and the trucks began moving again. By midday there remained only twenty-five tons of biscuits.

During the morning four trucks were despatched to recover tentage left by 4 Brigade. On the assumption that it had been abandoned the Greek civilians had already descended on the camp and swept it clear of canvas, but after some hard talking it was recovered.

The pile of biscuit boxes was dwindling, and at 3 p.m. twenty Petrol Company three-tonners arrived and gave a hand with the remainder of the biscuits and with engineer stores that had to be moved from Gannokhora.

All this feverish activity was watched by the Greeks in bewilderment. They had seen no fighting to warrant a withdrawal, and they were aware of no imminent danger. One who spoke a little English asked, ‘What are the British going to do to stop the Germans?’

Still the Column's task, after more than thirty-six hours, was not ended. The dump at Kilo 9, established only the previous day, had to be moved back 12 miles into 5 Brigade's area; this was done by 7.30 p.m., and at last the Column was free to retire. In the grey dusk the trucks moved out of Neon Keramidhi. Mist turned to rain, and though the trucks ground up Olympus Pass with headlights burning, several jolted into the ditch and had to be coaxed back onto the road. In steady rain the Column reached the fork of Olympus and Portas passes—4 Brigade was in Portas Pass—at 2.30 a.m. on the 11th, just forty-eight hours after the unit began breaking up 4 FSD. It had been intended to join No. 1 Echelon, still under corps command, at 1 FSD, but this echelon had moved up to a new location four miles north of Elasson, leaving only supply details at the depot.

A laager was chosen for the main body of the Column, but it did not allow adequate dispersal and during the day the unit moved back to high ground south of Elasson.

New Zealand Division and other units in the Olympus area now depended solely on 1 FSD for their rations. This was a heavy undertaking for one depot, and to ease the strain No. 2 Echelon on 12 April set up a DID which worked in conjunction. This system was satisfactory.

While members of the main part of the Column had been blistering their hands and straining their eyes in long hours of work and driving, the transport of No. 1 Echelon had been busy too. On the day it helped to clear 4 FSD at Neon Keramidhi (the 9th) the trucks left camp at 4 a.m. and scrambled through Olympus Pass—‘A real mountain track,’ says a driver—in the dark. After helping at Neon Keramidhi they went on to the Aliakmon line, picked up 4 Brigade men and took them to Portas Pass, arriving back at camp at half-past two next morning.

After an hour's rest they were sent away again through Portas Pass and on beyond Kozani. With guns muttering in the distance, they loaded up stores from the Amindaion dump and moved south again, gathering up en route a host of refugees, many of them women and children.

There was time now for a brief rest; but the peaceful remoteness of the earlier days was gone, and Greece's beauty was veiled by rain.

On the 11th a No. 1 Echelon driver (Driver Coulson

L-Cpl R. K. Coulson; born NZ, 29 Jan 1917; farm labourer.

) noted cryptically in his diary: ‘In camp. Maintenance on truck. Raining like hell. Hard to keep dry.’

During 12, 13 and 14 April the Column was engaged in a variety of tasks reminiscent of its general-carrier role in the desert: it carried ammunition, wire and troops for corps, established dumps along the line of defence, and delivered rations for units unable to collect them. The black-crossed wings of the Luftwaffe were about now, but at first Supply Column escaped notice. For the first few days there was only one air attack. This was when a German plane swept down on a truck, shattering the windscreen and riddling the cab with machine-gun bullets. Driver Richards

Sgt R. W. Richards; Hororata; born Christchurch, 10 Jul 1912; truck driver.

and his companion escaped into a culvert. The plane returned and raked the culvert, but they were not hit.

So far aircraft were the only sign of the enemy around the Olympus line, and there was still time to reach forward and salvage supplies. On 12 April thirty-five Supply Column three-tonners carried 10,000 rations, petrol, wire and ammunition through Servia (Portas) Pass, across the Aliakmon River, through Kozani and back in a southwesterly direction along a shocking clay road. There were a few enemy aircraft droning about, and the front was not far away; the undertones of artillery fire could be heard just beyond a snow-capped ridge. Returning through Kozani the convoy was fired on by enemy artillery at long range, but the shells fell well away from the road.

On the run south the convoy halted, as ordered, at 2 FSD, north of the Aliakmon River bridge, but found it empty. After waiting about the men heard that a Captain Weir at 3 FSD, a British dump to the north-east, had no transport, and they retraced their steps. At 3 FSD they picked up 25-pounder ammunition, which they had heard was short, petrol, rum, tinned fruit, Papistratos White cigarettes and various other commodities, including woollen underclothing. They burned what was left and as a final touch squirted out the contents of fire extinguishers, and moved away south to reach the Aliakmon River bridge at Servia before it was blown at 8 p.m. The trucks rolled across with an hour and a quarter to spare. As the convoy twisted back in snow and sleet through the New Zealand lines in Portas Pass, some of the luxuries picked up from the dumps—in particular the cigarettes—were distributed. The transformation of expression on the strained, tired faces of the chilled men as they saw these ‘gifts from the gods’ handed down was reward for this thoughtfulness. It was a small but important part in fulfilment of the Column's role of catering for the troops. It was a constant task, not to be neglected even in the extremes of a snow-dusted withdrawal.

Aircraft came down as the convoy crawled through the pass, but the trucks got away unscathed.

The next day, 13 April, the Germans began to close in. On the left they came through the Monastir Gap; on the right from south of Salonika. With the support of some 5 Field Regiment guns, the New Zealand Divisional Cavalry, which had been patrolling the Aliakmon, delayed the crossing of this river. This group came back through Olympus Pass, the last of it on the afternoon of the 14th, and highexplosive charges closed the road.

Within two hours of the last cavalry group's passing, German motor-cyclists came riding brazenly up the pass road. On the coast 21 Battalion and New Zealand guns checked an armoured thrust at the Platamon tunnel, and in the Portas Pass 4 Brigade met forces coming down from Monastir.

Pressure in the form of dive-bombers came on Portas Pass on 13 April, and German infantry came into the attack after sustained bombing on the 15th. They were repelled with heavy casualties, and the next day the position was still held. In the Olympus region fighting began on 15 April, and here too the line was unbroken next day.

Aircraft were everywhere: droning Dorniers, screaming Stukas and whining Messerschmitt fighters. One of the lasting impressions the New Zealanders brought out of Greece was of the terror from the sky. On 14 April Supply Column had its first real taste of it.

No. 1 Echelon moved south a little way on this day and dispersed at a road fork near a bridge about a mile north of Elasson. During the morning the men watched Elasson ‘catch a packet’. In the afternoon the Stukas came back; their target might have been the bridge but No. 1 Echelon's area was well in line for its share. The Stukas came weaving through the black ack-ack rosettes, formed into line and came screaming down. From its high ground to the south Column Headquarters watched appalled as bomb bursts blanketed the area with smoke. Dive-bombing is an awesome spectacle. A New Zealand infantryman recalls: ‘We would stand and watch an area being plastered. The planes would come howling down, and the whole area would be smothered with smoke and explosions. All you could think was, “Poor bastards”.’

But the spectators at Column Headquarters had cause to think of their own safety too. Two Messerschmitt fighters broke away to machine-gun Australian transport approaching the area, and there was a scatter. Greek anti-aircraft guns brought down one plane.

Despite the noise and commotion, No. 1 Echelon came through unscathed. The raid clearly showed the vulnerability of its area, however, and it rejoined the rest of the unit south of Elasson. Except for the men at 1 FSD, the unit was again complete.

On this same day aircraft machine-gunned Greek Army transport south of Elasson. The drivers bolted, leaving the road cluttered with carts, mules and horses, which Column men cleared away.

The decision to withdraw to the Thermopylae line was made on 14 April, as the existing line was too long for the troops available. Sixth Brigade and Divisional Cavalry were to provide the rearguard for Anzac Corps. Fifth Brigade, less 21 Battalion, was to withdraw from Olympus, followed by 4 Brigade from the Servia position. The 21st Battalion at the Platamon tunnel was to withdraw through the Pinios Gorge, but as all roads converged on Larisa this battalion and additional Australian troops were to hold the gorge until the town was cleared. Careful timing was necessary to allow all groups to clear Larisa.

The thinning out began on the 15th. Troops had to be brought out of the line and stores lifted back, but in the confusion of a general withdrawal and constant air attacks there were inevitable delays and short tempers. Two convoys of trucks, one of them from Supply Column, went to Larisa to do a job that had been done earlier in the day by another group of trucks. Supply Column transport moving forward to a point north of Elasson to pick up ammunition was twice ordered back before, on its third run up, it completed its journey, on each trip running the gauntlet of bombers. Twenty-nine bombers were hammering Elasson during the last run through.

Elasson on this day was pounded to pulp. Buildings gaped open, streets were cluttered with rubble, wires were tangled across the debris. Dazed people wandered about as though in a trance. In the midst of this E Section of Supply Column, strung out through the town and around the square in the centre, was untouched, though buildings crumbled on either side.

At 9 p.m. oral orders came from Corps to send forward trucks to bring out 19 Australian Infantry Brigade from Portas Pass and a company of 2/4 Australian Battalion from the Corps Headquarters area near Elasson. Twenty-seven three-tonners sent to pick up 19 Brigade reached the rendezvous at midnight, an hour after the arranged time, but the infantry had not yet appeared. There was still no sign of them in the morning, and the trucks sat there until late afternoon, when the tired men came straggling out. Tins of M and V (meat and vegetables) heated on the exhaust manifolds of the trucks gave them a welcome meal; even while troop-carrying the column remembered its slogan.

The brigade was incomplete, however, and there were only enough men to fill twenty-two trucks. These set off for Dhomokos, about half-way between Larisa and Thermopylae, where a rearguard stand was to be made.

Still missing was a company of 2/4 Battalion, and though it was thought it might have been cut off, the remaining five trucks under Second-Lieutenant Ward

Capt D. C. Ward; Wellington; born NZ, 24 Apr 1905; motor driver; wounded Jun 1941.

waited in the pass. This decision was to give a queer twist to the story when the Column met up again in southern Greece.

The twenty-two trucks of the main convoy reached Dhomokos without attention from the enemy, but the seven vehicles under Lieutenant Tomlinson that had gone to the corps area to pick up the other company of 2/4 Battalion were not so lucky. These trucks picked up their men at 1 a.m. on the 16th, and as they drove south from Larisa were harassed from the air. Two Australians were killed and four wounded.

Having unloaded the troops at Dhomokos, all vehicles returned to the unit, where they were anxiously awaited.

Column Headquarters and Workshops were ordered back to Atalandi on 16 April while these two convoys were away. But simultaneously the unit was also instructed to send forward all available transport to a dispersal area at the junction of the Olympus and Portas pass roads to bring out 4 Brigade, which was still in position above Servia. Twenty-three vehicles under Captain Hook

Capt G. A. E. Hook; Hastings; born Marton, 10 Jan 1905; motor mechanic; p.w. 17 Jun 1941.

reached the area at 7 p.m. and settled down to wait.

This left the rest of the unit near Elasson immobilised, but the return of the trucks from Dhomokos saved the situation. Column Headquarters and Workshops moved out in heavy rain at 6.15 p.m. on the 17th. The protective rain kept up until they were south of Larisa. Journeying south J Section adapted itself to the role of an LAD and was constantly pausing to drag back to the road trucks that had gone astray. With tanks almost drained, the trucks reached Atalandi at noon on the 18th.

All this time Ward's trucks had been waiting patiently in Portas Pass for the missing company of 2/4 Battalion. Late on the afternoon of the 17th the watch was given up, and ammunition, petrol and various supplies loaded. The trucks had gone only 14 miles when they overtook seventy-five weary survivors of the missing company. Part of the ammunition was jettisoned and the seventy-five men taken on to Dhomokos.

Reaching Atalandi on the afternoon of 18 April Ward found himself the unit's deliverer. Petrol was critically short; Supply Column was almost immobilised and some trucks of Ammunition Company were drained dry. The petrol brought back from the pass enabled a petrol-seeking convoy to be sent out. On the discovery of petrol depended the Column's final withdrawal to Thermopylae and of course the withdrawal of the troops it was to carry.

While the rest of the Column had been making its various ways south, Hook's twenty-two trucks were still waiting for 4 Brigade. Under cover of darkness the exhausted, mudplastered infantrymen came out of their battle positions during the night of 17–18 April. Embussing began about midnight and the last vehicle cleared the area about 3.30 a.m. In pouring rain they trundled south along the slippery, winding highway, their occupants taking some comfort from the fact that every mile covered in darkness or rain was a mile further from the Luftwaffe. Still in darkness, they filed through Larisa, and as the first light of dawn was streaked across the sky were running across the plains of Thessaly along the only road to the south now open; the road from Larisa to Volos, along which it had been intended that the New Zealanders should go, had been closed by rain and incomplete reconstruction.

The bright sunlight of a clear day revealed a crawling nose-to-tail column of vehicles reaching across the plain. Four miles north of Farsala movement ceased. As far as the eye could see the road ahead was choked with idle transport—New Zealand, Australian, English and Greek. There was nothing to do but grumble, roll a cigarette and wait.

Around 8 a.m., with unfailing punctuality, a German reconnaissance plane droned overhead, then swung away home hot-foot with the glad news. There was a general stir on the ground as drivers and troops scattered in search of shelter. An hour later the throbbing note of approaching aircraft came from the north, and the first flights of fighters and bombers came winging down on the congested road. Unchallenged except for the futile spitting of Brens and rifles, they ranged along the road at tree-top level in roaring procession. The still sodden earth erupted into fountains, and machine-gun bullets spattered on culverts and ripped through canopies, cabs and windscreens.

Throughout the day the German pilots made the most of this gift target, and there was nothing else to do but grovel in a trench or culvert and let the storm pass overhead. Apparently something was happening up ahead, however, for during the afternoon the jam eased, and about 4 p.m., with the planes still biting at their heels, the trucks were moving along the road again. When dusk came the harassing planes drew off, and after ten hours' continual bombardment the trucks jolted along through the night in peace. The troops were debussed late on the morning of 19 April, and the vehicles rejoined the unit, now at Atalandi.

There were several stragglers on this trek south. One was the breakdown Thornycroft known as ‘Flannagan’, which became detached from the main convoy on the way to Atalandi. South of Lamia, Drivers Hyland

Dvr E. S. Hyland, m.i.d.; Amberley; born NZ, 18 Jul 1906; contractor.

and Roberts

Cpl T. Roberts; Invercargill; born Tasmania, 14 Jul 1903; fitter.

pulled off for a brew up. Nearby was a broken-down English quad to which was attached a medium field piece. The Tommies were having little success with their repair attempts and finally came over to the Thornycroft and asked for a tow.

The New Zealanders couldn't offer a tow for both the quad and gun, but as the Tommies were anxious to get the gun under cover, they were willing to take this. The Thornycroft paraded proudly into the camp at Atalandi with this piece of ordnance behind it—who else had got themselves a gun?—and Hyland offered it as ack-ack protection for the sorely tried Column. No one was willing to try his hand, and the gun remained a proud though idle possession until the artillerymen retrieved it.

Almost the last trucks to rejoin the unit were those of a convoy detailed to pick up quartermaster's stores that had been left at Elasson. These were salvaged without trouble, but yellow-nosed Messerschmitts hounded the trucks all the way south. As each attack came down the drivers fled for shelter, returning and continuing the journey when the danger had passed. After a hazardous trip of stops and starts they reached Atalandi, only to find that surplus equipment was to be destroyed.

When an army retires one of its incidental problems is to clear away its supply dumps—either to shift them back with it or to destroy them. An army naturally likes to take its supplies with it—as New Zealand Division did when it pulled back behind the Olympus line—but in mid-April 1941 the army had little time to withdraw the troops and wasn't particularly concerned what happened to supplies, provided the enemy didn't get them.

That left the issue delightfully simple: destroy everything left behind. Simple enough in principle, but in the circumstances in which 1 FSD found itself profoundly complex. Holding enough supplies for an army, it was not permitted to do anything that would give the enemy any clue of what was happening.

This order came to Jacobs and McIndoe, who were in charge of the DID, from General Headquarters in Greece and was given orally by an officer, who told them the date of the intended withdrawal and that Corps would advise them later of their destination. Jacobs asked whether he could blow up his dump, as explosives were available from Ammunition Company across the road. The answer was no.

As a precaution Jacobs placed petrol tins near all dumps and applied himself to a less conspicuous way of destroying the dump.

The enemy undoubtedly knew of the dump, for a German Fiesler Storch, a slow-flying reconnaissance plane, had already circled the area, apparently taking photographs.

‘I ordered all details out with their rifles and we opened rapid fire,’ writes McIndoe. ‘It was apparently effective because the Jerry fired a white Very light, probably hoping to induce us [to believe] that he was one of ours, and lit out smartly.’

Jacobs and McIndoe asked Division for some protection, and two or three carriers were sent and took up positions on high ground around the FSD.

The breaking up of the dump began on 15 April, as trucks streamed south past the area. Standing on the roadside, a group of men threw onto passing vehicles anything troops wanted or would take. When units came for their normal issues next day they were simply given as much as they could take, and were told there was more if trucks were brought back for another load. The open-handed issue continued from the roadside and appreciable inroads were made into some commodities, but there were still large quantities of foodstuffs on the ground. Staff-Sergeant Reese

S-Sgt T. C. J. Reese; Christchurch; born Christchurch, 5 Nov 1905; civil servant.

writes:

The final day (17 April) in the life of this supply point was a miserable one. A thin, misty rain made the already wet ground a quagmire. Units drew into the area for the last time, and the issuers saw that all went away with as much as they wanted. Drivers from the units and the staff exchanged brief farewells, cheerily making appointments for the next rendezvous. They had grown to know each other well. We all knew that bitter fighting was going on and we wondered if and when we would see each other again, though no one had any premonitions of impending disaster.

Units had now taken all they could, and still there was more. Jacobs had already informed the gendarmerie at the nearest village that villagers could take what they wanted on the final day, and dozens of Greeks now stood around. They were told to help themselves. Reese continues:

They rushed from place to place, picking up this and that. Bewilderment was soon written on their faces. They could not read English and did not know what was in the various tins. The chaps led them from one stack to another and told them what to take and what to leave. Small donkeys were soon seen, heavily laden, being rushed away and brought back for more loads. Tea, flour, sugar and salt they recognised, and many disturbances had to be quelled as they fought to secure possession. The depot staff quickly checked this by taking charge and issuing to the people, who were told to file past in line.

The Sobieski

Supply Column on the after-deck of the Sobieski

Rough going behind Maadi in March 1940

Supply railhead at Abu Haggag—Capt H. M. Jacobs

Railhead in the Western Desert

Collecting unit rations

Dumping petrol in the Western Desert

Ration convoy

Anything that could be used as a container was pressed into service. Old men and women—even toddling kiddies—came past, and one or other of the various commodities was doled out into sacks, hankies, hats and shirts. One man took off his boots and filled them with salt. A woman turned her back and a minute later faced about with a pair of long-legged bloomers in her hands. By tying the extremities with string she had a pair of twin sacks, into one of which a soldier poured flour while a sergeant gravely filled the other with tea. We found old sacks and reserved them for the kiddies, giving them as much as they could carry.

Some folk were greedy and loaded so much on their donkeys that they collapsed under their loads. Never had these people seen so much food before. To them it represented a time of plenty—if they could hide it from the advancing Germans.

But still there was more food than could be given away. Cases were smashed open, tins pierced, and petrol poured over biscuits. Hour after hour the destruction went on: two or three men spent the afternoon on a huge stack of tinned milk, puncturing each tin and tossing it into a nearby creek.

A trickier prospect was an adjoining petrol dump, which was not really Supply Column's responsibility at all. Here Petrol Company had about 25,000 gallons of petrol in cases and 1000 gallons of oil in steel drums camouflaged under prickly scrub in small gullies. A sergeant and two men were operating the dump.

On 15 April McIndoe was told by the sergeant that he had no orders, but that he thought the ASC would lift the dump. Three three-tonners turned up a day or so later, loaded up and left.

At 3 p.m. on the 17th, while Greeks swarmed over the supply dump, McIndoe walked over to the petrol dump and was appalled at the huge quantity of petrol and oil still remaining. The sergeant and two men had gone. McIndoe decided to destroy what was left. He summoned all men available and set to work with axes and spades, gashing at cases and tins and spilling the contents on the ground. A few cases were set aside for Divisional Cavalry, which was to fight a rearguard action.

‘Rivers of pink petrol were soon running down the gullies, and the men were ankle deep in it,’ writes McIndoe. ‘The fumes were overpowering at times, and I was afraid a spark from an axe or shovel striking a stone would send up the whole area, including ourselves, in a gigantic burst of fire.’

For two hours the men toiled, their hands torn by the thorns of the camouflage, their clothes soaked with sweat. Petrol fumes rose around them in an invisible choking fog. When the petrol was gone, they turned to the oil.

Jacobs, meanwhile, still had no orders to withdraw, but about 6 p.m., learning that the Maori Battalion, the last troops between the depot and the enemy, were pulling out, ordered his men to stand by and asked whether the battalion's Bren carriers could shield his convoy while it got away.

As they slashed at the oil drums, the men in the Petrol Company area could see the others perched on top of the loaded trucks, anxiously watching the thinning line of vehicles go by.

Just before we emptied the last of the oil drums (says McIndoe) a despatch rider left the road and bumped over the rough ground in our direction. He pulled up and saluted and said, ‘Excuse me, sir, but I think you had better start moving. The Jerries are just coming down the pass.’ There was no time to waste. We nipped over to our trucks—the engines were running—clambered aboard and were off at the high port. On the way down the road we passed Div Cav carriers, which had taken up positions to fight a delaying action. I advised their commander where I had left the petrol.

The convoy shuffled south along the sloppy road, part of a column crawling along without lights. At the top of a hill north of Elasson Jacobs encountered Major-General Freyberg and Colonel Stewart

Maj-Gen K. L. Stewart, CB, CBE, DSO, m.i.d., MC (Greek), Legion of Merit (US); Kerikeri; born Timaru, 30 Dec 1896; Regular soldier; 1 NZEF 1917–19; GSO1 2 NZ Div 1940–41; Deputy Chief of General Staff Dec 1941-Jul 1943; comd 5 Bde Aug-Nov 1943, 4 Armd Bde Nov 1943-Mar 1944, and 5 Bde Mar-Aug 1944; p.w. 1 Aug 1944-Apr 1945; comd 9 Bde (2 NZEF, Japan) Nov 1945-Jul 1946; Adjutant-General, NZ Military Forces, Aug 1946-Mar 1949; Chief of General Staff Apr 1949-Mar 1952.

and was told to go back to Thermopylae, where he would be further directed. Elasson was a complete ruin, and at Larisa there was an interminable wait caused by bomb craters. The trucks drove south throughout the night, squeezing through Lamia, crowded with Greek soldiers and refugees, just before the Luftwaffe gave it another plastering. Near Thermopylae the convoy was directed to Atalandi.

CHAPTER 5 Evacuation

CHECKED only by 6 Brigade's covering action at Elasson, the Germans drove through Greece towards the new British line based on a spur of the Pindus mountains, where the Anzac Corps had taken up its positions by 19 April. The central rail and road pass of Brallos was covered by the Australians and the famous Thermopylae Pass by New Zealand Division. Positions were dug, barbed wire erected and guns sited in preparation for the stand.

The main part of the rearguard came scrambling back during the night of 18–19 April, and Australian units, which with the support of the NZ Divisional Cavalry and 7 NZ Anti-Tank Regiment had manned the Dhomokos position, came through the line the following night.

The assembly of Supply Column four or five miles east of Atalandi was completed by the 19th. Atalandi, in low, tree-covered hills, was admirably placed to provide cover and was within easy reach of the Molos and Thermopylae positions.

Fatigue now hung heavily on everyone. In the ten days since they had begun to clear away 4 FSD at Neon Keramidhi, the Supply Column men had worked and driven long hours, sometimes with rests of only a few hours in several days' continuous driving through darkness, rain and sleet and along rough, winding roads under the pressure of imperative speed and air bombardment.

But there was always something to do. Food, fortunately, was plentiful, thanks to the wholesale distribution by 1 FSD, but petrol was low. Supply Column did not have enough to travel ten miles; Petrol Company had even less, and one of its sections was completely immobile. Where petrol was to be found was a problem, and until Second-Lieutenant Ward's convoy arrived, how it was to be obtained was even more puzzling. No dumps could be found around Atalandi. Divisional and Corps Headquarters were still on the move and could not be found, and all that could be learned from Force Headquarters, then 12 miles east of Thisvi, was that dumps were being established at Kifissokhori, Levadhia and on the coast road four miles north of Livanatais, but how much was there, if any, was uncertain. The Column was asked to try the first two dumps first, as the Livanatais one was intended to supply forward troops.

Their tanks replenished with the petrol brought down from Portas Pass, six Supply Column and six Petrol Company trucks, all under Second-Lieutenant Ward, set out for Levadhia. They reached the railway station some time after midnight on 20 April and found on a siding a mixed pack train. Petrol was found and loading begun, but because it was difficult in the dark to distinguish what was being handled, work was suspended until it was light. In the morning it was found that the train contained high octane aviation spirit which the RTO had orders to hold. It was therefore decided to complete the load with oil.

Half a load of oil had been stacked on the first truck when the familiar angry drone of aircraft was heard. There was a scatter as the first Stukas peeled off and came screaming down on the station. Bombs squarely hit the trucks containing the aviation spirit, and the rake flared up in a towering sheet of flame. In a moment the blaze had spread to adjacent ammunition wagons, and 25 and 60 pounder shells erupted with a roar. Only 20 feet from the blazing train were stacked 2000 rounds of high-explosive shells and mines.

The RTO may have been justified in pronouncing the situation hopeless, but there were at least two who did not agree. Driver Macdonald,

Dvr J. G. Macdonald, MM; born Oamaru, 18 Jun 1909; clerk; killed in action May 1941.

of E Section, Supply Column, and Sergeant H. Killalea, of the Australian Corps of Signals, who had been on line maintenance, sprinted for the only engine in sight, several hundred yards down the track, where it had been abandoned by its Greek crew. Neither knew how to operate a locomotive, but while Stukas and Messerschmitts swept the area with fire, they got this one into motion and brought it back to the trucks. They hitched up twenty-eight trucks laden with petrol, oil and ammunition, severed the coupling with the burning wagons, and drew the load to a safe distance down the line.

The others began moving shells and mines from the burning, exploding rake, and Macdonald and Killalea came back to assist with this. Throughout the hour's raid, amidst smoke and flames, oil was loaded onto trucks and shells and mines stacked safely away.

‘Everything that was saved,’ said Ward in reporting the incident to his commanding officer, ‘was due to the initiative and courage of these two men, who were the first to attempt salvage.’ Macdonald was awarded the MM.

All trucks were loaded by late morning and set off for Atalandi. They were trailed on their homeward journey by planes, and 15 miles from Atalandi bomb splinters punctured the tire of one truck and severed an oil pipe. The tire was changed in haste and the truck towed back, reaching its destination late in the afternoon.

The day—it was Hitler's birthday—had been a stormy one at Atalandi, too. Supply Column sprawled on either side of a small blind road near a crossroads. Headquarters was in a wooded, boulder-strewn island area bounded by a curve of the highway. An officers' EPIP tent had been set up, an orderly room RD tent faced the road, there was an RD tent for the CO, and sitting across the road was the cookhouse. Ammunition Company was nearby. This point had been chosen because no maps of the area had been issued, and in the meantime the Column had to be where units could find it. But the enemy had eyes too.

The morning passed quietly. The only incidents of note were the smashing of an effigy of the Virgin Mary at the crossroads by an Ammunition Company truck that missed its turning, and the return of a despatch rider, Driver High,

Dvr K. High; born England, 14 Jan 1916; lorry driver.

who en route to Headquarters Command NZASC at Lamia had been strafed from the air and had his headlamp sheared off by bullets.

After lunch an artillery convoy trundled past the crossroads. A solitary Stuka came over to have a look, dropped a casual bomb and lolled away. About 1.30 p.m., just as another convoy was moving out to load at Levadhia, a swarm of aircraft swept down and opened up with their machine guns. Rather than give away the position of other vehicles camouflaged from sight, the convoy was left where it was and everyone went to ground. Headquarters and Workshops took the worst of three-quarters of an hour's machine-gunning.

A lull followed, and into it innocently drove Driver McDonald, the unit's bugler, with the Headquarters' ration truck. Major Pryde and Staff-Sergeant Mitchell

S-Sgt J. A. Mitchell; Christchurch; born Christchurch, 21 Jan 1907; fruiterer.

were talking to him when the planes came down again and let go their bombs. Pryde and Mitchell dived for a sheltering cave that tunnelled under the road. The roof had long since collapsed, and as the first stick of bombs fountained up a few yards away dirt and dust showered down on the deafened occupants, about fifteen in all. Sergeant Jelley

Sgt J. Jelley; born NZ, 20 Jan 1904; lorry driver; died while p.w. 15 Aug 1941.

received concussion and Driver Rod,

Dvr J. W. Rod; born NZ, 5 Jul 1914; tailor; died of wounds 20 Apr 1941.

who was unable to reach cover, was wounded and later died.

Sup Coln's first fatal casualty in Greece was Dvr J. W. F. Welsh, killed on 18 Apr 1941.

When the attackers drew off, the ration truck was found to be smouldering. Its driver, who had taken shelter under a nearby tree, was wounded. As the fire in the truck took hold the burning canopy was torn off and water flung over the flames. McDonald later died, and his bugle was inscribed and sent to his home at Waimate.

The respite was brief, and soon afterwards the planes returned. As everyone went to earth, bullets came zipping through the trees. The attack continued spasmodically for about three hours. The planes followed each other into the target area, let go their bombs, and, as leisurely as though they were over a practice target, returned and sprayed the area with machine-gun fire. Forty bombs were counted in the Column area. Casualties were three men killed, one wounded and one missing. This last, Driver Hansen,

Dvr W. A. A. Hansen; Fairlie; born NZ, 9 Oct 1918; labourer; p.w. 29 Apr 1941.

suffered concussion and wandered off into the hills. A long search failed to find him, and he was taken prisoner. Material damage from the raid was light: two vehicles were damaged.

Death and destruction apart, one of the most maddening features of the one-sided air war in Greece was the inability of the men on the ground to do much to help themselves. The inevitable frustration found its outlets in various ways, few of them much good except as an escape valve for the emotions. Supply Column's particular emotional outlet was a .55-inch Boys anti-tank rifle mounted on a truck as an anti-aircraft weapon. The theory—quite sound as a theory—was that its armour-piercing bullets could penetrate the armoured cockpits of the enemy planes that shed ordinary bullets like so much rain. Workshops Section contributed the mounting, and the day of the Atalandi strafing offered opportunity for its use.

The gun was with an E Section convoy under Lieutenant Tomlinson that left the unit area in the morning before the hate began. Messerschmitts were playing havoc with road traffic, and after taking two hours ten minutes to cover five miles, the convoy turned for home. Setting out again in the afternoon, the convoy was about a mile from the crossroads when the fun started at Column Headquarters. Riflemen, described as being ‘somewhat organised’, and the Boys anti-tank gun, manned by Corporal Starkey

Cpl S. Starkey; Outram; born Dunedin, 31 Jul 1911; carpenter; p.w. 1 Jun 1941.

and Driver Le Compte,

Dvr D. E. Le Compte; Gisborne; born Christchurch, 2 Aug 1918; farmhand; wounded 30 May 1941; p.w. 1 Jun 1941.

let fly. The gun engaged planes three times and got away twelve shots before it over-balanced backwards and sent the firer spinning.

After the raid Column Headquarters moved away from the danger area until nightfall, when it returned to move vehicles to a new laager a mile east of the junction.

C and D Sections, which had been on the point of leaving when the attack began, moved out at 3 p.m. On their way to Levadhia they were delayed for an hour and a half by 4 RMT troop-carriers travelling in the opposite direction. They reached Levadhia in the early hours of 21 April and found that the rake containing rations had been moved some miles south of the station. By 7 a.m. they had loaded thirty tons of hard rations and dispersed near Atalandi Pass. Because of continued air activity, they remained here during daylight and reached Atalandi about midnight. The rations were delivered to 10 FSD, four miles north of Levadhia, which was taken over on 21 April by Supply Column men of No. 2 Echelon, under Lieutenant McIndoe.

Camouflaged from sight in its new area, Column Headquarters escaped further attention on 21 April. Regularly at 6.50 a.m., 11.50 a.m. and 6.50 p.m., flights of bombers and fighters winged overhead on their way to harass the ports of southern Greece. On one of the return flights two fighters skimmed by at tree-top level but did not open fire.

A firm British line faced the Germans, who without attempt at concealment were preparing for their attack. To the west, on the other side of the Pindus mountains, however, Greek resistance was crumbling; caught in a hopeless position, the Greek Army of the Epirus was attempting too late to move back, and on 21 April news reached the British authorities that this army had surrendered. The British flank was now wide open.

Already, however, evacuation was decided on. When General Wavell reached Athens on 19 April the beginning of the evacuation was fixed for 28 April, but the collapse of the Greek forces resulted in the date being advanced to the 24th.

Anzac Corps planned that 4 Brigade would retire to Kriekouki and there prepare positions for the final rearguard. While 6 Brigade covered at Thermopylae, 5 Brigade was to move directly to embarkation points. Sixth Brigade was then to disengage, destroy its guns and withdraw to embarkation points too. Events, however, forced modification of timing, and 5 Brigade moved south on the same night as 4 Brigade (the 22nd). Sixth Brigade withdrew on the night of 24–25 April.

The decision to evacuate Greece was made known to the troops on the 22nd. Explaining the decision to Supply Column, the Adjutant (Captain Morris

Maj J. R. Morris, m.i.d.; Dunedin; born England, 8 Dec 1911; salesman.

) said, ‘The evacuation will be arranged by the Navy. I think we shall be in good hands.’

The end was in sight, and sentence of death—it was almost that to NZASC drivers—had to be pronounced on unwanted trucks. Twenty-five of the most roadworthy of No. 2 Echelon three-tonners were selected for troop-carrying, and nineteen three-tonners and 30-cwts were retained to evacuate Supply Column itself.

With ten of the troop-carrying trucks, Tomlinson left for 10 FSD with rations at 6 p.m. on 22 April. After unloading he took his vehicles to a dispersal area near the coast road. He was joined there next day by the remaining fifteen troop-carriers under Second-Lieutenant Surgenor,

Capt G. R. Surgenor, m.i.d.; Auckland; born NZ, 4 Mar 1913; storeman.

and twenty-five vehicles from Petrol Company. That evening these vehicles came under the command of Major McGuire.

Lt-Col W. A. T. McGuire, ED, m.i.d.; Auckland; born NZ, 22 Dec 1905; police officer and motor engineer; OC Amn Coy Oct 1939-Oct 1941; OC NZ Base ASC 1941–44.

Heavy black clouds hung on the horizon on 23 April, and rolling thunder overlaid the rumbling guns. Inquisitive planes skimmed low over the trees but though there was activity beneath, there was little to be seen from the air. On the off chance, they sent down an occasional hail of bullets. There was an eerie atmosphere of tension, accentuated by rumours that parachute troops had landed in the area. It was a moment of desperation and distrust: sheep in a nearby field appeared to be mustered into formation, and fires were lit. Already, two nights earlier, a Greek who aroused suspicion had been shot.

Throughout the day the Column, in a mood as black as the sky, carried out a systematic course of destruction. The drivers had acquired an affection for their vehicles that had grown over thousands of miles of road and through scores of adventures. They knew every squeak and rattle, and the precise pitch of the engine's note when everything was running well. They knew their vehicles' moods and how to coax them when the going was hard. They had adorned them with the names of their best girls or with monograms or symbols. At least one driver, with tears in his eyes, flatly refused to wreck his vehicle. This was Hyland, driver of ‘Flannagan’; he moped away while someone else did the butchery for him.

With reluctant hands the drivers drained away the oil and set the engines running until bearings seized. With sledge hammers they cracked open engine blocks and stove in radiators; they slashed at tires with axes and soused equipment with acid. Workshops Section tearfully hammered at brand-new equipment, only a week out of the case, and destroyed a pile of gear that had been obtained only a week previously at a Greek base workshops at Larisa.

All that could not be destroyed, including personal gear, was buried, and when the work was completed the men each had a rifle, steel helmet, greatcoat and pack, into which were stuffed as many rations and cigarettes as could be carried.

In spite of rumours and scares, the day passed quietly. During the afternoon Captain Boyce,

Capt A. H. Boyce, ED; Seddon; born Blenheim, 8 May 1905; farmer; p.w. 1 Jun 1941.

Lieutenant Rawle

Maj R. E. Rawle, MC; Wellington; born Wellington, 2 Aug 1911; civil servant; OC Sup Coy 18 Apr 1944-29 Nov 1945; wounded 25 May 1941.

and five other ranks made a reconnaissance of a back road from Malesina and established control points. As a road it was a poor affair—the headlamp of one of the motor cycles was shaken off—but it was a way of escape.

At 6 p.m. 10 FSD closed. Supply Column cleared the area at 7.30, and as dusk came down was jolting and jarring at a cautious pace over the uneven surface. Sidelights in the half light were useless, and about half the distance to the main road had been covered when the fifth vehicle from the rear ran its back wheels into a ditch and slewed at right angles across the road. Using lights, the front part of the convoy went on and at the main road joined the ASC convoy. It took about an hour to free the ditched truck, and the tail-enders reached the main road some miles behind the main convoy.

Traffic packed the main road. Nose-to-tail and with lights burning, trucks were threaded in an endless stream through swarms of refugees, their carts stacked high with belongings, past wrecked and burning trucks, and across bridges where toiling sappers were preparing demolitions. Like an unending glittering snake, the column of trucks droned along the flat at a good clip, but as it wound up into the hill country south of Thebes it dropped to a snail's pace.

The New Zealand Provost Corps did a commendable job in keeping traffic in the right direction. Men at each crossroads directed trucks with the aid of lighted signs and arrows set in the road.

Athens, reached in the early morning of 24 April, was a dead city—how dead after its warmth and life a month earlier. Streets were deserted, and nowhere along their empty lengths were there to be found pickets to direct traffic. For several hours trucks roamed aimlessly down silent streets until at last Movement Control was located at Force Headquarters in the Hotel Acropole. After some delay in mustering wandering transport part of the Column's convoy was led to a dispersal area on the plain of Marathon, eight or ten miles from C Beach at Porto Rafti. Unable to find the leading section of the convoy, Boyce took the remaining Column trucks to Kamponia. He was directed by Movement Control to embark that night at D Beach.

Fifth Brigade, too, was ready to embark. Throughout this day its men had lain concealed within sight of the sea, and that night, under the cover of the same moonless darkness that was concealing the withdrawal of 6 Brigade from Thermopylae, they converged on the beaches.

Beneath the trees the Supply Column men had a sing-song while waiting for the order to start for the beach.

In Morris's field notebook the orders looked like this:

“D” Beach Starting 8 p.m.

Drivers to remain with vehicles

embarking takes place 1 hr after dark

90% 3500 approx tonight

Beach cont. off for Aus Maj Sheppard

NZ Maj Bertram [Bertrand

Lt-Col G. F. Bertrand, OBE, ED; New Plymouth; born Urenui, 9 Feb 1891; school teacher; 1 Bn Wgtn Regt 1914–19 (OC 1 HB Coy 1918; wounded three times); 2 i/c 28 (Maori) Bn Nov 1939–Oct 1941; CO 2 Maori Bn and Maori Trg Unit (in NZ) Apr 1942–Oct 1944.

]

All ranks carry three days rations

in their pockets

Not to go to Refini [Rafina]

25 men in each veh.

remaining veh. dest.

Body arrangements not unit

Trucks took the men to within two miles of Porto Rafti, and as they trudged on towards the beach they could hear behind them the clatter of the last vehicles being destroyed. Thoroughly exhausted—the men had spent most of the campaign in their trucks and were anything but fit—they reached a feature overlooking the Aegean Sea. Here a naval officer was directing troops and urging haste. From one of the evacuation ships standing off shore a signal lamp was winking. On shore the embarkation officers kept up a running description of the progress being made.

The men felt sand under their feet; it was now about 8 p.m. Ahead of them stretched a dark queue of the thousands who had been waiting for interminable hours to be taken off by the landing craft running a shuttle service between shore and the ships.

There was no end to time. Every so often the line of men, exhausted from tense days, sleepless nights and long journeys, shuffled forward a few yards. Intermittently the cool voice of a naval officer said, ‘Keep together in line. There must be no smoking. Troops will not lie down.’ To have lain down would have induced the slumber of fatigue that would have dislocated the evacuation.

It was about seven hours before the last of the queue in front of Supply Column men melted away and the lapping sea lay before them. The night was nearly gone. At 3 a.m., when the operation was about to end, the first Column men scrambled into landing craft, the engines gave a surge of power and the water creamed up behind as the boats faded away into the darkness. Left on the beach were about 500 New Zealanders, half of them Supply Column men. The deadline had been reached, and to be clear of enemy aircraft before daylight the ships could wait no longer. Captain Morris and Sergeant-Major Pullen could have gone in a launch in which two seats had been reserved for them, but preferred to remain on shore with the men. Morris was the senior NZASC officer present.

A naval officer said, ‘Attention everybody. It is too late to take any more off tonight, so the rest of you will disperse and sleep. Be here tomorrow night and the Navy will try to take you off. Gentlemen, I am sorry. Good luck to you all.’ Then, almost before the despair of this announcement had taken effect, his voice came again, ‘Remain where you are.’ The faint throb of a motor came in from the sea, and as the men stared into the darkness a tank landing craft took shape and bunted inshore. The queue moved forward and the men groped their way into the black depths of the craft. Slowly they packed in till it was full; there was still a crowd on the beach. Those on board compressed themselves further into the boat, and the remaining men came on. The barge pulled itself clear of the sand and moved away from the deserted beach.

But though these men were off Greece, they were a long way from rescue. The Navy was already heading for the open sea.

Crowded into the thick atmosphere of diesel fumes and unwashed bodies, the 500 men in the pitching tank landing craft, held awkwardly upright by their pressing neighbours, consoled themselves that their destination could not be far away. Heavily overloaded, the craft rose sluggishly to each wave and slapped sickeningly with racing propeller into each trough. At every cant of the ship the compressed mass of men leaned on each other; around their feet bilge water lapped and gurgled. Many men, dressed still in their greatcoats and carrying their packs, slept as they stood. Others, less fortunate, were seasick.

The landing craft continued to labour interminably through the heaving sea. Then from the hatch above Captain Tui Love,

Lt-Col E. Te W. Love, m.i.d.; born Picton, 18 May 1905; interpreter; CO 28 (Maori) Bn May–Jul 1942; died of wounds 12 Jul 1942.

of the Maori Battalion, called for attention. ‘The warships have gone and you are being taken to Kea Island,’ his voice said through the darkness. ‘It is the best the Navy can do. When you reach your destination you will disperse but remain on call in case the Navy can arrange to pick you up. Otherwise you must find your own way to Crete. One last word: you must expect aerial attacks and be prepared to repulse landing parties.’

There was a general grumble of discontent from various parts of the barge, and a member of the Pay Corps, speaking in a loud, high-pitched, nervous voice, began to curse the whole Army, Navy and Air Force. Fearing panic, Pullen flashed his torch on the man and told him to ‘Shut up’. Nothing more was said.

Kea Island lay 15 miles from the Greek coast, but the craft took four hours to make the journey, and in the welcome sunlight of 25 April—twenty-six years after the Gallipoli landing on a beach not so very distant—the men waded ashore. On the beach stood several islanders, including small children holding hands. Others, fearing that this was a German raiding party, had fled but soon returned.

In compliance with orders, the men dispersed into olive groves to sleep, and within half an hour the only outward sign of activity was the tank landing craft putting out from the bay.

Kea was typical of the many picturesque islands scattered across the Aegean Sea, extending Greek territory almost to Turkey. Behind the tumbledown fishing village, with its cobbled jetty and anchored caiques, the green hills rose steeply. Dotted here and there were white houses and an occasional church. Like so many parts of Greece where these men had been, it had an idyllic tranquillity that until it was sharply shattered by the Luftwaffe seemed a stubborn denial of reality.

While the men rested, the senior representative from each of the eleven groups attended an officers' conference called by Captain Love. Infantry, engineers, NZASC and medical were the main groups, the largest, under Morris, being Supply Column. Love was selected as OC troops.

A stocktaking showed that resources were low. The only food was the few biscuits and tins of bully beef the men had in their packs, and the islanders, themselves on a frugal diet, could not for too long support their uninvited though not unwelcome guests. Jacobs was instructed to use regimental funds brought from Greece to secure what food he could.

Ammunition was down to ten rounds a rifle. The officers resolved that in the event of invasion, and in the absence of any evacuation arrangements, the small force was to resist to the limit of its resources, and after that there was no alternative but to give up.

A further problem was the presence of medical men, who of course were non-combatant. Arrangements were made to put them aboard a steamer bound for Turkey, which was anchored in the harbour. They were lightered out, but when they were 300 yards from the ship a shot skipped across their bows. With understandable discretion they turned back to shore, and it was later found that the ship's captain had decided that whether they be combatant or non-combatant, he wanted nothing to do with soldiers. The ship was, in any case, already overcrowded. As it turned out it was a fortunate twist of fortune. The ship was later sunk and all those on board were lost.

Several officers, Love among them, took up quarters in a large, square, white building on the waterfront formerly used by the Danish ambassador as a holiday residence. A quarter of a mile along the road Sergeant-Major Pullen, Sergeants Balkind

WO II I. H. Balkind; Auckland; born Melbourne, 14 Feb 1905; mechanic.

and Sargent,

Sgt F. W. Sargent; born NZ, 7 Jul 1915; law student and solicitor's clerk.

and Lance-Corporal Duke

Capt W. S. Duke; Dunedin; born Dunedin, 28 Jan 1913; butcher; p.w. 27 Nov 1941.

set up another section of Headquarters under a culvert where the road began to climb into the hills. This was a comfortable nook and a good administrative centre—if only there had been something to administer. The only misfortune was the presence of a dead cat.

Jacobs, meanwhile, was going about his task of finding food. Collecting several NCOs from No. 1 Echelon supply details, the entire strength of which was on the island, he went to a nearby village and, after making himself understood with difficulty, bought a small supply of fresh vegetables, which included lettuces, onions and radishes. He also bought a baker's meagre supply of black bread and arranged for him to bake more later in the day. More bread was found to be available at a village four miles away in the hills. A party was despatched, but on arrival found that the bread had already been sent down on donkeys; bush telegraph had been well ahead of them.

From under a tall hedge by a goat track, supply details distributed the food. There was insufficient to go around, and the two headquarters groups on the waterfront and under the culvert made do with a redolent meal of spring onions and garlic from a nearby garden patch. Other men scoured about for food, one or two finding chickens.

The future food situation was precarious. The island's flour resources were low, and though villagers promised to search the island for more, there was a limit to what could be found.

Several times during that day the bell of St. Agrystrakos church tolled a warning as Messerschmitts swooped down over the island and swept the valleys with machine-gun fire and dropped bombs in the harbour. At each alarm the islanders fled and the New Zealanders concealed themselves.

By evening there was still no clue as to how a rescue could be made, and various schemes for escape were hatched. The men were told that if the Navy could not take them off they would have to make their own way to Crete in whatever boats were available. Morris and Rawle had befriended the Greek harbourmaster, Spiros Bogdanos, who would have been useful in securing a small craft for the Aegean crossing. Crete and Turkey were about equidistant, though Turkey had advantages: it could be reached by island-hopping and the route was less likely to be watched by Germans. Evacuation, however, was still a reasonable expectation and no action was taken.

Next day (the 26th) a bullock was bought for 8000 drachmae (£16) and slaughtered, but was never eaten. The carcass was being cooked around noon when a naval lieutenant in white shirt and shorts came panting over the island with the news that the men would be evacuated by a ship that would leave the other side of the island at 8 p.m. that day. It was agreed that the signal for assembly would be three shots from Morris's pistol at 2 p.m.

The six or seven miles to the other side of the island was considered by the natives to be arduous, and surplus gear was dumped. Morris still had with him a suede-covered portable gramophone that he had bought at Athens and which one of the men had dutifully carried to Kea. This, he decided, must go, and he selected as its recipient a pretty 18-year-old Greek girl who was a nurse in an Athens hospital. She bristled with suspicion when he attempted to press the gift on her, but with the aid of the village barber he made her understand what it was all about. Her mother insisted on paying for it with four eggs and a hatful of peanuts.

Four eggs in this situation were precious, and Morris approached ‘a seedy looking individual’ whom he took to be a fisherman, and asked him to tell him where he might cook them. The ‘fisherman’, in a cultured English voice, told him a sailor standing by a brazier on the deck of ‘that fishing smack’ would cook them for him. Taken aback, but by now ready to accept almost anything as possible, Morris went aboard and, gesticulating to the sailor by the brazier, said, ‘Agfa—you cook please.’ The reply, in broad Cockney, was that he would be pleased to, for the price of one egg.

Morris might have been excused if all sense of reality left him, for he found he was on board a ship that had all the qualifications of fiction. The ‘fisherman’ was a naval officer assisting in the evacuation of Greece. The fishing-smack was a powerfully engined ship; in a huge radio compartment into which Morris had a glimpse, a radio transmitter was in constant communication with the War Office.

Morris fired his pistol at 2 p.m., and after assembling at the church the men moved off in groups of twenty at two-minute intervals under an officer or NCO. Some were missing, but time was too short to wait until they could be found.

For three miles the road followed the coastal shelf. Near a placid inlet, where a caique lay anchored, the hills came down to the sea and the track wound up into the mountains. The pace slackened and the groups began to string out. As the faster climbers of each group overtook the stragglers of the group ahead, a continuous line of men was formed plodding in the broiling sun up the twisting track. As aircraft zoomed overhead the men flattened themselves under cover, and the planes passed without seeing them. These rests were welcome, but it required a stern effort to set legs moving again on the seemingly unending climb. Each crest was an illusion; beyond always lay another. Some lightened their loads by throwing away what they could.

As the peak was breasted the pace became rapid. At the risk of wrenched ankles, the now straggling line made good time down the rough track. There was no time to lose. At 7.50 p.m., ten minutes from the deadline, the tail of the column was still making its way down the mountain, and valuable minutes were lost taking cover when aircraft came over. These men could see the waiting landing craft, the same that had brought them to the island, barely discernible beneath the evening shadow of the sheer bluffs. At last steep steps led down into a cove, and a goat track to a rocky area and the 12-inch board that was the gangplank of the barge. There were a few who had a swim before they were dragged, dripping and blasphemous, aboard the landing craft.

At the tail of the column came a New Zealand doctor, De Clive Lowe,

Maj S. G. De Clive Lowe, m.i.d.; England; born NZ, 27 Feb 1904; medical practitioner; medical officer 5 Fd Amb Mar-May 1941; p.w. May 1941.

leading a donkey laden to capacity with most of the effects discarded by the men on the mountain, and much of what had been cast aside could be reclaimed.

There was a brief alarm when a German plane skimmed across the entrance of the cove about 100 feet from the water, but it went by without seeing the ship, and the craft moved away from the blurred outline of the rugged coast. Ten members of the Supply Column who were missing when the trek started had still not arrived.

As the craft headed for the open sea a watch was kept for floating mines. For some hours it churned through the Aegean. Then its engines were shut off and it lay for a while in the darkness, surging in the lapping water. The distant sound of surf could be heard. A light winked in the void. Minutes passed, and a ship took shape; it was the trooper Salween. The Navy, as usual, was in a hurry, and minutes were precious. A swell was lifting the two vessels and joggling them now together, now apart, and every attempt to tie them together failed. A few men scrambled up a rope ladder, but at the end of an hour the landing craft had to pull away with most of the men still aboard.

The craft next picked up the low-decked flak ship HMS Carlisle, and the Kea men were quickly put aboard. Among the ship's passengers they found two Greek girls in New Zealand uniforms.

Fourteen times aircraft attacked the convoy on its way to Crete. On board the Carlisle New Zealanders helped to man the anti-aircraft guns, and very pleased about it they felt, particularly when a Junkers 88 tumbled into the sea. Sitting on the deck the Maoris let go their anger by firing skywards with everything at their disposal: rifles, Brens and even pistols. Says one passenger: ‘A solid hail of lead seemed to be flying heavenwards.’

The Salween, with the lucky few, went on to Egypt. The Carlisle put into Suda Bay, Crete, at 7 p.m. that day, and the men disembarked.

While the Carlisle was steaming towards Crete, there remained on Kea several men to whom the future seemed to hold little chance of escape. Four of the ten left behind were taken off the same night; the remaining six, who had set off in pursuit of the main party, reached the top of the island in time to see the landing craft pulling away.

Three of those who were left, Drivers Baldwin,

Cpl R. A. Baldwin; Christchurch; born Christchurch, 4 Jun 1914; woolclasser.

Williams

Dvr T. H. Williams; born NZ, 19 Nov 1904; insurance agent.

and Teague,

Dvr A. J. Teague; Wellington; born Stratford, 8 Jan 1906; carrier.

were taken off that night by the destroyer Nubian, and after running the gauntlet of German aircraft returned to Egypt.

Another taken off that night was Driver Bradshaw,

L-Cpl J. S. Bradshaw; Napier; born England, 9 Jun 1921; student.

whose linguistic abilities were almost the cause of his downfall. Greek was among the languages he had mastered, and when most of the men were setting off for the other side of the island he was still talking with villagers. He, too, was rescued by a destroyer.

Six others, including Drivers McArthur,

Dvr A. W. McArthur; born NZ, 26 Dec 1919; kiln-burner.

Palmer,

Dvr L. Palmer; Reefton; born Invercargill, 20 Jan 1918; bricklayer.

Broadbent

Sgt H. F. Broadbent; born England, 27 Jul 1914; school teacher.

and Honniwell,

Dvr C. V. Honniwell; Timaru; born NZ, 7 Nov 1905; lorry driver

were less fortunate. They had taken up their quarters in caves on the second day on the island. At midday they ate their slender ration of bully beef and stretched out to sleep.

‘Suddenly I woke to what I thought was the sound of three shots,’ writes Broadbent. ‘Some of the others were already awake, but as they appeared to have heard nothing I decided I must have been dreaming, and let the matter drop.’

The rest of the afternoon was whiled away at poker and pontoon. About 5 p.m. a Greek boy came to the mouth of the cave but failed to make himself understood. He went away and returned in a few minutes with an old man, who began gesticulating frantically in the direction of the mountains and repeating some such words as ‘Tria stratiosis’.

It was gathered that the others had gone, and gathering up their equipment, the six New Zealanders followed this energetic old man along the coast and up the mountain track. As they reached the peak at dusk they heard what they took to be a German plane. Then in the bay far below they saw the smudged outline of what was obviously the landing craft pulling out to sea.

On the point of exhaustion, the men rested for a while before they returned the way they had come. They reached the inlet at the base of the mountain about midnight, ignorant of the fact that again they were missing rescue by a destroyer by a narrow margin, and settled down thankfully in the church by the sea to sleep. They were roused at the chilly hour of 4 a.m., and led by their Greek friend, skirted the bay in darkness. The seizing of the caique anchored off shore was mooted, but their guide shook his head. They were given food at a farmhouse, and reached the port in daylight. A medium-sized Turkish ship was anchored on the far side of the harbour, and two French civilians at the village, one a journalist, said they were sailing on her for Turkey. The six New Zealanders decided to follow suit unless something better turned up that day. Like the earlier ship, this one also was later sunk.

During the morning they bought bread and found there was meat to be had that had been paid for by Jacobs. After their meal they went to a hotel and slept until midday. An hour later two medium-sized caiques came into the harbour and tied up at the jetty. From one stepped the trim figure of a British naval officer. He greeted the New Zealanders' recital of woes with only casual interest, but assured them that they could go with him when he sailed in about three hours' time. There were, he said, already about sixteen New Zealanders in the hold.

Asking the New Zealanders to carry two wounded Greeks up to the village, he went off for some sleep. At sailing time—4 p.m.—the six men were told to go below and stay there. Enemy attacks were likely if it was suspected there were troops on board.

There were fifteen New Zealand sappers and a Greek officer in the hold, and scattered about was a quantity of ammunition, hand grenades and TNT. In the centre was a keg of rum, and watching over it an inebriated sapper. The caique, he said cheerfully, hadn't a hope of getting through. The beach it was going to was already in German hands. As the caique chugged slowly towards the open sea, the rum went the rounds, and everyone began to feel better.

The first three-quarters of an hour passed peacefully. Then a sapper who was peering through a hatch said tersely, ‘German planes coming’, and as the men flattened themselves among the cargo of explosives, three planes dived. They roared low, spattered the ship with bullets, and passed on. Half an hour later four fighters came down and, skimming just above the surface, poured machine-gun and cannon fire into the ship. The bullets plopped against the stout timbers, and then these planes, too, went on their way. As the sound of their motors died away and the men in the hold picked themselves up, one of them emerged from beneath boxes he had piled on himself. Questioned by a sapper, he pleaded ignorance on their contents. ‘Just grenades,’ said the sapper. The laughter lifted the tension.

Twice more aircraft swooped down and sprayed the ship from sea level before land was sighted about dusk. More stragglers were picked up from the mainland, and early during the night the caique met the cruiser Kimberley at a rendezvous at sea. Crete was reached next morning (28 April).

While Supply Column men were making their devious ways from Porto Rafti to Crete, the melancholy business of Greece was drawing to a close. It was a creditable ending, in the best traditions of orderly withdrawal.

With the complete artillery of the Division thundering behind it, 6 Brigade met determined attacks at Thermopylae and hung on to its positions in the face of severe mortaring, bombing and tank attacks. The brigade withdrew on the night of 24-25 April through 4 Brigade which, with Australian artillery and anti-tank guns, was screening the evacuation with a line at Thebes. To relieve the strain on the evacuation beaches near Athens, 6 Brigade crossed the Corinth Canal one jump ahead of the German paratroopers, and shedding as it went trucks that had given up the ghost, made its way to ports in the Peloponnese.

As the Germans pressed south the situation became critical, and into this confusion were precipitated a number of stragglers from Supply Column. Sixth Brigade slipped across the canal on the night of 25-26 April. At first light next day the Germans began a furious air attack on the canal area, culminating in an airborne landing that failed in its object of securing undamaged the bridge—blown up at the height of the attack after splendid efforts by individuals from British units, among them two men from 2 Section, 6 Field Company. The actual cause of the explosions remains a matter for conjecture.

At Thebes, meanwhile, 4 Brigade and the Australian guns were hitting hard at a surprised enemy, whose reconnaissance had failed to reveal the existence of the rearguard line. When the link with the Peloponnese was cut, however, 4 Brigade was left in a tight corner and was evacuated from Porto Rafti.

In the Peloponnese the final evacuations were carried out at the three ports of Navplion, Monemvasia and Kalamata in a tense atmosphere and with some disappointments. In addition to the paratroopers who had come down at the Corinth Canal, a second German force, thrusting down from the east, had crossed to the Peloponnese at Patrai. As the Germans began to squeeze up the last part of British-occupied Greece, each minute at the evacuation beaches became vital, and at Kalamata delay turned certain rescue into bitter disappointment for 7000 men, among them some from Supply Column.

At this point the evacuation of Greece disintegrated into individual escapes, and here again Supply Column men were among those who, by whatever means they could, cleared the Greek mainland under the eyes of the vigilant Luftwaffe and patrolling launches.

The last organised group of Supply Column on Greece was that which had been put under the command of Major McGuire to help bring out 6 Brigade. This brigade was embussed on NZASC transport during the evening of 24 April—just about the time that the rest of Supply Column was joining the embarkation queue at Porto Rafti—and the trucks were away by 11.15 p.m. Almost blind with only the meagre glimmer from sidelights, drivers smashed dusty windscreens, but even so bumpers, mudguards and lights suffered as trucks crashed together. Moving back through 4 Brigade's positions, the convoy halted at dawn and dispersed under cover. Tomlinson found at this halt that the tray of his 15-cwt was littered with grenades that had tumbled from their container. Still with him was his inseparable companion Mitzo, a St. Bernard he had bought as a month-old puppy on 2 April for 200 drachmae (13s.). The dog was a well-known personality in the Division until accidentally shot a year later at Baalbek in Syria.

The convoy moved on at 6 p.m., rumbled across the Corinth bridge and twisted through burning Corinth itself. Trucks now were being discarded as they broke down. As each was jettisoned, its passengers piled out and swung themselves aboard the next. Stragglers, too, were grasping at tailboards, and soon some trucks were stern down under double loads. Straining, overheated engines were drawing up petrol at the rate of a gallon every three or four miles.

There was little cover to be found at dawn on the 26th, and trucks dispersed as best they could. The planes came down with joyful gusto and kept up their pounding all day. South again that night, and at daylight dispersal. Tomlinson found that his ten trucks were reduced to six, all heavily overloaded.

During 27 April 6 Brigade formed positions around Tripolis. The 26th Battalion moved out about midday, but the other two battalions remained. Tomlinson went off to a nearby village to see if he could get any of the famous Greek brown bread for the men, who were heartily sick of army biscuits. He was gladly given what he believed was the village's last loaf and was not permitted to pay for it, in spite of his protests. He encountered here a number of Greek officers, including a general, in a great state of alarm. They had apparently deserted their troops and begged Tomlinson to arrange for their evacuation.

The remainder of 6 Brigade pulled out at 9 p.m. and at dawn were a few miles from Monemvasia. Throughout the 28th the infantry, concealed from searching planes, was prepared to meet any ground attacks. That night trucks moved off in groups. At Monemvasia, when troops had debussed, the empty vehicles were toppled over a cliff into the sea or otherwise destroyed, and the remaining distance was covered on foot. Mitzo alone was privileged; he was carried by his master.

The first men who crunched down on to the sands searched the night for the rescue ships. Nothing stirred on the flat calm sea, and for hours as the crowd grew they watched and waited and listened, feeling every precious minute slip away. At last, silent shadows in the darkness, the destroyers moved in. There were more delays and heartbreaking uncertainties, and a probability that because there were not enough small craft one battalion would have to wait another day, but as more boats were gathered up and put into service and more ships arrived with additional landing craft, the operation gathered pace. The last boat, in which were the admiral and Major-General Freyberg, ran alongside HMS Ajax at 4 a.m.

As he came aboard HMS Isis each man was given a steaming hot mug of cocoa—a miraculous sustainer for morale and warmth for the dead-tired. To provide it the Navy used its precious fresh water reserves. Even Mitzo, with his master on the Isis, was capably cared for. At Crete men were transferred to the Thurland Castle, and they reached Port Said on the morning of 2 May.

Not far behind 6 Brigade across the Corinth Canal were three Supply Column men, Drivers Swale,

Sgt A. T. Swale; Tuatapere; born Bush Siding, Invercargill, 20 Apr 1918; sawmill worker.

Hetherington

Dvr J. Hetherington; born England, 4 Jan 1907; plumber.

and Hay,

Dvr W. Hay; born NZ, 16 Dec 1915; farm labourer.

but the few hours made the world of difference to their comfort. Involved in a motor-cycle accident when the unit first arrived in Athens, Swale spent three weeks in hospital and was still at a New Zealand transit camp near Piraeus when the evacuation order was given. He went with British troops to the evacuation port of Megara, between Athens and Corinth, arriving there on the morning of 25 April. After lying up all day he joined up that evening with Hay, but after a long walk the two reached the evacuation beach at 2 a.m., only to find that no more troops were being taken from it. They were told to go to Navplion. Hetherington joined them at the beach.

At dawn the three men decided to try to repair one of the destroyed trucks in the area. They found one still in good condition, and picking up a load of men drove down the road to Corinth, along which others of the beach party were straggling. They had crossed the Corinth bridge and were still north of the town when the German blitz burst around them. First silencing the protecting Bofors, the bombers came over in droves, rocking the earth with their bombs. Fighters swept low and raked the area with machine guns and cannons. Then from their hiding places the men saw parachutes blossoming in the sky as with textbook precision the Germans developed their airborne attack.

None of these troops dropped near the Supply Column men, but when the Germans began to deploy it was clearly time to leave. As paratroopers approached, they made a dash for their truck, a few yards away, and set off to the south. They raced through Corinth, flattened by the air bombardment, and drove on to the south-west. They passed through 6 Brigade's defensive positions at Argos and went on to Navplion. They found evacuation ships either sunk or burning in the harbour, and returned to Argos. Next day (the 27th) they went to Kalamata, where they were taken on a destroyer which went direct to Egypt. Bombers attacked the convoy and two ships were sunk.

Not so fortunate were Drivers Gibson,

Dvr M. R. Gibson; Hanmer; born Christchurch, 2 Feb 1920; labourer.

Wright

Dvr F. T. Wright; Auckland; born NZ, 13 Oct 1917; truck driver; p.w. 29 Apr 1941.

and Fraser,

Dvr A. Fraser; born Waipori, 15 Aug 1904; grocer; p.w. 29 Apr 1941.

who were among the 7000 left at Kalamata the following night (28-29 April). Gibson was another who had been sent to hospital when the unit first reached Greece, and was at Piraeus when the evacuation order was given. The three men travelled with a convoy across the Corinth Canal and south through the Peloponnese. After encountering air raids and a resultant traffic block in the Corinth Pass, they reached an area north of Kalamata at nightfall on 28 April. With many other New Zealanders they converged on Kalamata, to which the cruisers Phoebe and Perth and six destroyers had been sent to make the last evacuation from Greece.

Many who were evacuated from Greece could almost feel the breath of their pursuers on their necks; the men at Kalamata on this night found the Germans not merely behind them but in front of them too. The German forces that had crossed the Gulf of Corinth at Patrai moved on to Kalamata via Megalopolis. They penetrated into Kalamata with light forces, and when the ships arrived at 9 p.m. a spirited battle was in progress for possession of the jetties. Owing to an error in judgment all ships except Hero withdrew. Late that night three other destroyers arrived, but due largely to the earlier capture of the Naval Beach Officer and his staff no ships came to the quays and only a handful of men were evacuated by the ships' boats.

The last organised body of New Zealanders in Greece turned their backs on the sea and found refuge where they could. The three Supply Column men went up into the hills, returning next day. They repaired a semi-demolished truck and, picking up other New Zealanders, drove into Kalamata. While Fraser and Wright stayed with the truck, the others went into an orchard and were peacefully peeling oranges by the roadside when a German armoured car went by at high speed. Believing it to be a captured one, the New Zealanders ignored it, but at that moment four more came into view. One opened up with a machine gun, killing or wounding four of the eight on the roadside. The two with the truck were taken prisoner.

Gibson, and a Maori, Private Atta,

Pte C. Atta; born NZ, 26 Oct 1913; farmer; p.w. 1 Jun 1941; died 26 Nov 1947.

reached safety by squirming through a culvert under the road and making back into the hills. From here they could look down on the final battle and the surrender next day of the exhausted New Zealanders. They made their way down the coast, and on the night of 1 May fell in with a group of nine New Zealanders who intended sailing that night in an 18-foot boat. There was room for two men but a shortage of food and water.

On a calm, still night, they rowed steadily down the coast; along the shore the fires of German bivouacs glimmered. They put into shore at first light, hid the boat and took refuge in a house. In this fashion they reached the tip of the Peloponnese in three days. Their next objective was Kithira Island, about 25 miles south-west of the mainland.

‘We were ready to sail just before dusk,’ writes Gibson, ‘when a Greek caique pursued by a German launch appeared in the inlet. Fortunately for us the chase continued out of sight. We waited some time before setting sail.’

They reached Kithira early next morning and were informed that the Germans had not yet landed there. They went out again early in the afternoon and when about two miles off shore were closely inspected by a low-flying Messerschmitt. They apparently passed as civilians for the aircraft turned away. Three hours later they pulled in at the tip of the island for a spell. An English-speaking Greek volunteered to inquire whether there was any planned evacuation from the island, but returned with the alarming news that the Germans had landed the previous evening and patrols were out in search of stragglers.

In spite of this information, the New Zealanders decided that the safest course was to wait until dusk before resuming their voyage. Again fortunate, they were on the point of leaving when a rowing boat with a German launch in pursuit came into view. The launch was seen to pull alongside the boat, then darkness concealed the scene.

Still unobserved they reached the open sea and the next morning were at Antikithira, 26 miles away. Greek soldiers gave them food, and at nightfall they set out for Crete, 30 miles to the south-east. Guided by anti-aircraft fire over Suda Bay and hurried along by a strong following wind, they reached Crete at 9 a.m. next day (14 May), twelve days after they had set out from Kalamata.

Another of those left high and dry in Kalamata was Corporal Begg,

L-Sgt J. W. Begg; born Dunedin, 4 May 1918; salesman.

who was in hospital at Athens when the withdrawal from Greece was ordered. When the German forces came into Kalamata on 29 April Begg was hiding beneath trees with a number of other New Zealanders from various units. About midday they heard a car pull up on the road nearby. A sergeant and a corporal who went to investigate found it to be a German staff car in which was a blue-uniformed officer, revolver in hand. He called on the New Zealanders to surrender, but with an automatic stuttering behind them, they wheeled and dived back under cover like rabbits. The whole group took to their heels, racing madly across vineyards and open fields and bursting through cactus hedges with little attention to the jagged thorns. When they paused for a rest, a count showed there were now twenty-two of them, including three officers.

Crawling through ditches, sneaking beside hedges to evade the constantly patrolling aircraft, and finally wading a waist-deep swamp, they made their way to the coast about a mile from Kalamata. Not far away the guns were hammering, and Greeks told them that the Germans were in the town. Civilians guided them to a nearby village, where they acquired two small boats and a larger one. Begg was in the larger one.

The plan was for the three boats to keep within hailing distance of one another, with the largest leading. With little wind to aid it, however, this boat was left behind by the other two and contact was lost in the mist.

Wielding cumbersome oars with difficulty, those in the large boat made tedious progress. About 3 a.m. they heard what sounded like turbines, and shielding their torch with a steel helmet they flashed an SOS. Their signals were either not seen or ignored.

Contact with the other boats was regained at dawn, and the three put into the shore again. Utterly exhausted, they slept until the roar of low-flying aircraft disturbed them. Well-meaning Greeks brought food and water, but their attentions were an embarrassment for they were likely to attract the interest of German troops who passed their shelter throughout the day.

Stocked with food and water and helped along by a slight breeze, they pushed off that evening, navigating towards Crete by using the stars. Again the large boat was left behind. At dawn it was decided to make for an island some distance off. German aircraft passed continuously but ignored them. At midday the wind dropped entirely, and again the men took up the heavy oars and dragged the boat towards the island. Like a mirage, the island never seemed to come closer, and when night came the boat was still far out on the empty sea.

They toiled on wearily. Attempts to snatch a little sleep between turns at rowing were frustrated by a leak that demanded the energies of every spare man to keep the boat bailed out.

About midnight they were jerked back from nodding fatigue by the sound of throbbing engines. Peering through the darkness they could make out the shapes of three warships approaching. Again they tapped out an SOS with their torch, and the ships began to circle and come in closer. An English voice was heard, and shortly afterwards they were scrambling up rope ladders put down by the nearest ship. They were taken direct to Egypt.

And so it was that in one way or another almost every man of Supply Column came out of Greece; only eleven failed. Some of these were caught when the Germans descended on Corinth on 26 April. Others fell into German hands through various misfortunes during the scramble of the evacuation.

Otherwise casualties were light and give a guide to the amount of bombardment by high explosive that men can endure almost with immunity. Three were killed, two died of wounds, and five (including one of those captured) were wounded and survived.

CHAPTER 6 Crete

IN a sense Greece was a prelude—or perhaps the battle around the outer walls before the withdrawal to the citadel, Crete. Here, in this inner keep, all men stood to their arms. Drivers without trucks, artillerymen without guns, cavalrymen without tanks fell in beside the infantrymen, and with rifle and bayonet prepared to face the enemy's airborne attack.

A small section of the Supply Column men who stayed on Crete continued supply work, but most of them joined the ranks of the fighting men, and in the final defence of Galatas made a stand that provides the highlight of this history.

With Greece in German hands, Crete became a shield for General Wavell as he dealt with the complexities of Middle East problems: a newcomer to the desert, Rommel had in a few days swallowed up most of Wavell's hard-won gains in Cyrenaica and now stood on the Egyptian frontier; there was a revolt in Iraq to be put down; and in Syria German infiltration made action imperative. A British division was to be sent to defend Crete and the disorganised Australians and New Zealanders taken back to Egypt, but the task of escorting large convoys was beyond the overworked British Navy, and the Anzacs stayed.

From 25 April until 1 May ships streamed back and forth between Crete and the evacuation beaches of Greece. As each wave of men came ashore on Crete it spread west and south-west, flowing along the narrow tracks between a jumble of hills and seeping away into the shady olive groves.

In the beginning it was a disorganised army, without guns or trucks and seriously lacking in other equipment. With the irrepressible spirit of a phœnix it pieced itself together, gathered in supplies as quickly as they could be brought from Egypt, gave every armed man a fighting role, and set about arranging yet another reception for the constantly following German forces.

Brewing up

A dust-storm at the Supply Point at Qasaba

Sollum, December 1940

Bardia Harbour from Upper Bardia

A Supply Column truck after a crash into an Egyptian petrol tanker in December 1940. Both drivers were killed

Breaking camp at Qasaba before the move to Greece

Supply Column billets at Dene Lodge, Ash Green, England in September 1940

Lunch time in the Supply Column area in Katerini

The first organised group of Supply Column men came with the first arrivals on 25 April; the last organised group was that from Kea Island, which arrived on the 27th. Thereafter the stragglers came drifting in in all manner of craft.

The ships of the first wave moved into Suda Bay on the afternoon of Anzac Day. The white walls of Suda clustered at the water's edge; rolling hills went back to snow-capped mountains. And in the foreground, intrusive and incongruous, bomb-scarred ships were discharging into a multitude of small craft shuttling back and forth between ship and shore. The stocking up of Crete was now a top-priority task, and everywhere there was movement, unceasing and urgent.

Landing craft took the men ashore. On the docks they threaded their way through a litter of military stores, wandered on along the palm-lined waterfront, where Bofors squatted in sand-bag nests, and tramped out along the white coast road to the west. At the end of a dusty march they found hot cocoa, chocolate, five cigarettes each and oranges waiting for them at a field kitchen in an olive grove several miles from the docks. From here they moved on to an overnight resting place under olive trees.

The next day the remnants of Supply Column formed up and to the skirl of pipes played by Driver Munro

Sgt R. D. Munro; Timaru; born Timaru, 13 Dec 1911; butcher.

marched the 10 miles to Ay Marina, a small village almost midway between Canea and Maleme, where New Zealand Force Headquarters was set up. As they stepped smartly past a field hospital nurses came out to cheer and to ask whether they thought they had won the war.

A schoolhouse on a terrace facing the sea became Column Headquarters, and the men scattered among the groves, each group selecting and settling around a tree as though it were home. There was a technique to dossing down under an olive tree. Once a man had some security of tenure and knew that the effort was worth while, he would choose the biggest tree he could find so that its ample trunk would provide a windbreak, then hollow out a shallow trench, building up the sides with the excavated spoil. The bottom was then padded with green oats, wheat, tares, grass, or whatever was handy, and a groundsheet—if a man was lucky enough to have one—was spread over the top. Whatever bedding a man had was made up on top of this. This was a comfortable arrangement, and though the nights were chilly at first, spring warmth soon provided an ideal climate for alfresco living.

For all its pastoral beauty and apparent remoteness from the pursuing Germans, Crete was not entirely peaceful. Already there were disturbing stories of an attempted sea invasion, and on 29 April sounds of gunfire were heard out at sea. Aircraft were in the sky, and for a day or so at least they were friendly, but it was not long before the familiar hostile drone of enemy machines sent men for cover, and the anti-aircraft guns began to bark.

Crete for a while offered a respite, but no real security and very little chance to rest. There was work to do. Supply Column, of course, had the inevitable job of feeding the troops, and on 28 April—the day of arrival at Ay Marina—a DID was set up at the schoolhouse by No. 1 Echelon supply details.

Next day the remainder of the Column was organised into three groups of about 100 men each. They were:

Headquarters group, consisting of Column Headquarters and J Section. Its officers were Major Pryde, Captain Morris and Lieutenant Julian.

Capt J. M. R. Julian; Wellington; born Hawera, 13 Mar 1913; motor mechanic.

No. 1 Echelon group, which became a ‘company’ of four platoons under Captain Hook. Platoon commanders were Lieutenants Hastie and McKenzie

Capt J. B. McKenzie; born NZ, 8 Aug 1912; stock agent; p.w. 17 Jun 1941.

and Second-Lieutenants Hunter

Capt J. P. Hunter; Hamilton; born Auckland, 20 Aug 1912; clerk; p.w. 1 Jun 1941.

and Henshaw.

2 Lt D. J. Henshaw; born NZ, 20 Mar 1909; grocer; killed in action 20 May 1941.

No. 2 Echelon group, similarly organised under Captain Boyce. Its platoon commanders were Captain Radford

Capt L. A. Radford; Maeroa, Hamilton; born Hamilton, 19 Aug 1910; machinist.

(an Ammunition Company officer), Lieutenants Rawle and Ward, and Sergeant Earl.

WO II F. R. Earl; Wellington; born Lumsden, 12 Feb 1905; engine driver; p.w. 1 Jun 1941.

Major Davis and Captain McIndoe operated the DID, and Captain Butterfield was requisitioning officer.

Thus reorganised, the Column began an unaccustomed life as an infantry unit.

The following day (30 April) Major-General Freyberg assumed command of the forces on Crete and the responsibility for the island's defence. He might have been excused misgivings. He had a curiously assorted army, much of it poorly equipped and untrained as infantry, and the territory he was to defend was a 160-mile-long island with its most easily defended coast facing away from the enemy. He formed four centres of resistance: Maleme, Suda-Canea, Retimo and Heraklion.

The New Zealanders, under the command of Brigadier Puttick,

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

prepared defences in the Maleme and Suda-Canea sectors. Maleme, with its vital airfield, was given to 5 Brigade. Galatas, a pivot of the Suda-Canea defences, became eventually the responsibility of the heterogeneous 10 Brigade, which was formed partly from the unequipped ASC, artillery and Divisional Cavalry detachments and grew from what was first known as Oakes Force. Fourth Brigade, less 20 Battalion, and 1 Welch Regiment were west of Canea as a force reserve. The 20th Battalion was later incorporated into 10 Brigade, but as the divisional reserve it was not to be used without permission. Three Greek regiments, each of two untrained battalions, were also allotted places in the defence plan.

In the brief weeks before the German invasion there was much to do. Quite apart from the main task of preparing the island's defences, there was a vast amount of organisation to be performed, supplies to be obtained, and thousands of daily problems to be overcome.

From the Middle East weapons, ammunition, food and equipment had to be brought. So urgent was the need for these and so inadequate the ports of Crete to handle the ships that the bare necessities of life for the men took second priority, and the thousands without so much as ground sheets, blankets and razors could not be immediately provided with these things from imports. To give each man at least one blanket, a general collection and redistribution was ordered.

Many men had saved their weapons and nothing else, but there were literally thousands without arms, equipment, essential clothing and other necessities, and many without even parent units to look after them. There were estimated to be 10,000 other ranks without arms, and according to an official report, ‘with little or no other employment other than getting into trouble with the civil population.’ All these were an encumbrance to the island's strained resources and were to be shipped away at the earliest opportunity. Most of the Supply Column men were included among those to be sent to Egypt; Captain Boyce's No. 2 Echelon group alone was earmarked from the start for a place in the defence forces. Of the rest of the unit, one group, the Headquarters group, was sent away. Captain Hook's No. 1 Echelon group remained in a state of suspense and in the end stayed to fight.

The Column was split within a few days of its conversion to infantry at the end of April. Boyce's group moved over to Galatas to join Oakes Force, one of the defence groups set up in the early days. Hook's group and Headquarters group awaited developments at Ay Marina, where of course the DID was operating.

About a week later—on 8 May—Headquarters and Hook's group were moved to a camp near Galatas. Nothing was known for sure, but there were rumours that Supply Column, Boyce's group excluded, was to be evacuated, and as if to confirm the story those at the Galatas camp began a march next day towards the port. While approaching Canea they were overhauled by a despatch rider and diverted to Camp A, behind Canea. Major Pryde and Sergeant-Major Pullen, however, embarked on this day at Suda as ship's staff on the vessel Rodi, a battered, former Italian vessel that had been captured at Tobruk.

The remainder of Headquarters and Hook's group settled down beneath the thick spread of the gnarled olive trees at Camp A. Life was leisurely and boring. Rations were short, but eggs, bread and oranges could be bought, often by barter with cigarettes. Enemy aircraft were not unduly troublesome, and the only duties were standing guard at the villa near the camp where King George II of Greece, Prince Paul, and their staffs were living.

When the Dutch ship Nieuw Zeeland, bringing among other things six I tanks and their crews and the Kiwi Concert Party—all most welcome—dropped anchor in Suda Bay on 14 May, there was again speculation among Supply Column men on their chances of being taken off. But space was limited, and when Headquarters and J Section had been allowed for, the situation resolved itself into an issue between Hook's group and Ammunition Company, an issue that was settled by a toss of the coin. The ASC padre, Father Henley,

Rev Fr J. F. Henley; Eltham; born Palmerston North, 10 Sep 1903; Roman Catholic priest.

spun the coin. Eyes followed it through the air, and Hook called. As the coin fell to the ground someone in Ammunition Company said, ‘Now hook your frame out of it.’ Hook had lost.

With 1658 passengers—troops and civilians—on board, the Nieuw Zeeland put out from Suda at 1.40 p.m. as low-flying German planes came whining in for an attack.

Evacuation was always a possibility for Hook's group, but it never came. For the next week or so the men lounged about, dug a little, and uneasily watched the increasing activity of the air raiders. Some men helped unload ships.

King George and Prince Paul were visitors to the officers' mess during this period, and several times had cause to borrow a slit trench.

On the morning of the invasion Hook's group was still at the transit camp and still awaiting embarkation. It stayed to fight as part of a battalion under Captain Page, of the Royal Tank Corps. For its task it had, besides rifles, only two Bren guns, and a limited amount of ammunition.

Boyce's group went through the pre-invasion lull in a different frame of mind. It had for the time being to forget its nostalgic longing for its trucks and for the perks that went with ASC work and go back to foot soldiering. ‘I felt like a cowboy without a horse,’ was how one man put it.

From the time it was peeled away from the rest of the Column, Boyce's group wandered from place to place, and was in five different positions before it finally established itself in what became 10 Brigade's defence line. When it left Ay Marina on 30 April it marched down the coast road to an area near Galatas to join Oakes Force, and the next day moved to Ruin Hill, a commanding feature west of Galatas that took its name from a ruined crofter's cottage on the crest. The group made its presence felt very promptly by seizing three warders from the nearby Aghya prison as suspected fifth columnists, but released them after questioning.

With a broad panorama of land and sea below them, the men settled here for a few days and adjusted themselves to Crete and the makeshift ways of their reorganised lines. Laden with pack, rifle and fifty rounds of ammunition, they could hardly be said to be reconciled to their earthbound existence, but they made the best of things. The cooks, in particular, adapted themselves to their primitive facilities—four-gallon petrol tins. They turned out breakfasts of tinned bacon and beans, and lunches of M and V, and sometimes boiled rice flavoured with dried fruit. With each meal was an issue of one and a half slices of bread a man, margarine and marmalade, golden syrup or cheese, and sometimes bully beef and salmon. To supplement this diet there were always oranges to be bought from the ubiquitous vendors, who throughout the Middle East had a habit of rising as though from the ground in the most unlikely places. On Crete they came with two brimming baskets slung across a donkey, or sometimes the vendor was just a boy carrying a single basket.

On 6 May the men loaded themselves up again and trudged down the prison road, past the massive, stone, white-painted prison that was soon to become a central feature in their lives, and down to where Russell Force was established near the Aghya Reservoir, at the foot of Observation Hill. Russell Force, created two days earlier, consisted of Divisional Cavalry and Petrol Company turned infantry. Its commander was Major Russell,

Lt-Col J. T. Russell, DSO, m.i.d.; born Hastings, 11 Nov 1904; farmer; 2 i/c Div Cav 1941; CO 22 Bn 7 Feb-6 Sep 1942; wounded May 1941; killed in action 6 Sep 1942.

of Divisional Cavalry.

Water was simmering over a fire and the men were settling in when an aircraft droned into view. Over went the pots and the fires hissed and spluttered, but the plane turned away with apparent disinterest.

The atmosphere here was pleasant if primitive. The men ate from tins, cooked their food with wood gathered from far and wide, and lived in bivouacs of grass. The main task was to keep lookout from a steeply rising spur just above the camp known as Observation Hill. Training included the siting and digging of section posts along the ridges, linking up with Divisional Cavalry to the west, and the preparation of range cards. From Divisional Cavalry they learned the rudiments of morse and semaphore.

Off duty there were diversions: a pool to swim in, wine to be bought and a few villages to visit, and there was even scope for misbehaviour. CB for the rebellious included climbing Observation Hill and reporting back as many times as possible in daylight, a form of punishment that at least helped to toughen up. On marches there were excellent beaches at Ay Marina where hot, dusty troops could cool off.

Food, which had to be packed across the fields from the road, usually around midnight, was in short supply, and the men contributed ten drachmae each to buy a sheep.

A mock battle staged by 19 Battalion for the benefit of Greek troops was the next disturbance. Boyce's group was on the ‘battleground’ and moved aside. After watching mortars plaster a hill, it moved back to its camp, but the next day—it was now about 13 May—shouldered belongings and moved back to Ruin Hill.

On the 12th a composite brigade, which later became 10 Brigade, had been formed from Oakes Force and 6 Greek Battalion. Colonel Kippenberger

Maj-Gen Sir Howard Kippenberger, KBE, CB, DSO and bar, ED, m.i.d., Legion of Merit (US); Wellington; born Ladbrooks, 28 Jan 1897; barrister and solicitor; 1 NZEF 1916–17; CO 20 Bn Sep 1939-Apr 1941, Jun-Dec 1941; comd 10 Bde (Crete) May 1941; 5 Bde Jan 1942-Jun 1943, Nov 1943-Feb 1944; 2 NZ Div 30 Apr-14 May 1943, 9 Feb-2 Mar 1944; 2 NZEF Prisoner of War Reception Group in UK 1944–45; twice wounded; Editor-in-Chief NZ War Histories.

took command on 14 May, and next day Oakes Force became the Composite Battalion. Composite Battalion consisted of three groups, each of which caused some confusion by calling itself a battalion. They were: RMT group, consisting of 270 officers and men of this unit commanded by Captain Veale,

Maj L. H. Veale, ED; Wellington; born Christchurch, 1 Nov 1911; insurance clerk; 4 Fd Regt Oct 1939-Jun 1941; p.w. 1 Jun 1941.

of 4 Field Regiment, and with other artillery officers; 4 Field Regiment group, consisting of about 200 officers and men, mainly from this regiment, and commanded by Captain Bliss

Maj H. C. Bliss, m.i.d.; Christchurch; born Christchurch, 22 Sep 1914; dairy farmer; bty comd 7 A-Tk Regt Dec 1941-Jul 1942; p.w. 22 Jul 1942.

; and a mixed group under Major Sprosen,

Lt-Col J. F. R. Sprosen, DSO, ED; Christchurch; born Christchurch, 20 Jan 1908; school teacher; CO 4 Fd Regt Apr-Jun 1942, Sep-Oct 1942; 5 Fd Regt Oct-Nov 1942; 14 Lt AA Regt Nov 1942-Jun 1943, Dec 1943-Nov 1944; 7 A-Tk Regt Nov-Dec 1944; wounded 24 May 1941.

of 5 Field Regiment, consisting of 250 men of Petrol Company under Captain McDonagh,

Capt W. G. McDonagh, m.i.d.; born Ireland, 13 Oct 1897; motor engineer; killed in action 20 May 1941.

about 140 of Supply Column under Captain Boyce, and about 150 officers and men of 5 Field Regiment directly under Major Sprosen.

The brigade consisted of this battalion, a Divisional Cavalry detachment, and 6 and 8 Greek Battalions.

Boyce's group itself was reorganised at this time. Radford became divisional ammunition officer, and the group—a company, really—reformed into three platoons under Lieutenants Rawle and Ward and Sergeant Earl.

Rumours and official and unofficial speculation of the probable invasion date were rife when Boyce's group was absorbed into these forces. There was an air of tension, and suspected fifth columnists, among them the warders from the gaol, were rounded up and imprisoned—the warders in their own lock-ups.

Preparations were pushed ahead. All this time shipping had been running the gauntlet of prowling German planes, and under the rain of their bombs had been discharging at Suda. Ships were sunk en route and blown up in the harbour, and the supplies reaching Crete were a dribble. There was, fortunately, plenty of wire, plenty of light automatics, a fair number of mortars, six I tanks and sixteen light tanks, and even a few trucks had been brought ashore. Forty-six field guns, each with 300 rounds, reached Crete, but the New Zealanders had been busy forming an artillery force of their own with guns of various nationalities—3.7-inch British howitzers, French and Italian 75-millimetre pieces and a German 77-millimetre—and had been repairing them, devising sights and calibrating. Two items of which there was a desperate shortage were picks and shovels.

The general policy of Creforce was to seek arms and equipment rather than reinforcements, but before the German attack part of the Mobile Naval Base Defence Organisation arrived with coast and ack-ack guns, searchlights, and crews—a total of 2000-odd Royal Marines.

With this material and equipment the island's forces were formed.

Composite Battalion's positions were on a ridge running south from the sea just west of Galatas. Rising almost from sea level, the ridge ran inland in a series of rounded peaks to Ruin Hill. From there southwards the ground fell away into a valley of fields and groves. The Composite Battalion line followed this ridge inland to Ruin Hill, then with a bend like a hockey stick turned to the east to shield Galatas from the south.

Ruin Hill, a lozenge-shaped feature dotted with trees and crowned by a patch of wheat, was a key point. Northwards the men had a vista that took in Theodhoroi Island (seen over by Ay Marina), the Composite Battalion line (running from Ruin Hill itself, down over the hump of Red Hill to where the ridge tailed away into the sea), the white tents of 7 General Hospital, the village of Galatas, and beyond its off-white walls the town of Canea. To the south-west they could see across to a system of ridges which, piling up to a peak at Observation Hill, near where Divisional Cavalry was still in position, curtained Maleme and Galatas from each other. To the south they looked down on quilted olive groves, through which were traced cart tracks and ditches, and onto which was printed a clearing of fields, the white prison road and the prison itself. Behind all this were heaped the White Mountains, the backbone of the western half of the island. To the east and just south of Galatas was Pink Hill, and a little to the right of this and further away Cemetery Hill, where 19 Battalion and 6 Greek Battalion sheltered the other side of Galatas.

From its admirable grandstand Boyce's group saw everything that went on about it. Bombers, becoming ‘more prevalent’, as one man expressively puts it, could be seen hammering at the Suda Bay area and snapping back irritably at the anti-aircraft guns on the surrounding hills. RAF fighters from Maleme were seen to come out and, in spite of German fighter escorts, chase some of the invaders out of the sky. On 18 May one bomber of a flight attacking the port was seen to break away and, swinging over the clearly marked hospital area, let go a stick obviously aimed at a group of men bathing on a nearby beach. The first bomb burst billowed up among a row of bell tents at the northern edge of the hospital area, and from the hill men could be seen running about. Two NCOs were killed. The other three bombs of the stick fell in the sea, one near the bathers. Another incident seen from the hill was the machine-gunning of a small boat in the bay. Soon after another boat was seen to pull out from land and tow the craft in.

Orders to wire its area were received by Boyce's group on 17 May, and the next day dispositions of platoons were settled. As wiring was pushed ahead battle positions were assumed, ranging carried out, arcs of fire determined, LMGs sited, communications linked up and ammunition and water details dealt with. All the while a constant lookout was kept towards the sea.

There were three Bren guns—one to each platoon—but the group had as well a .55-inch Boys anti-tank rifle for which there were three rounds—one, it turned out, a dud.

The wiring plan, finished on 19 May, not a day too early, included a cunningly conceived ‘mat’ rigged by Lieutenant Ward in a vineyard to such effect that the invaders almost certainly believed it to be a heavily mined area; possibly it influenced their line of attack, which ignored the hill.

At evening on 19 May Boyce's group was ready in its defences. To the left (east) and slightly to the rear was the 5 Field Regiment group, and to the left of this again Petrol Company, these two forming the southern side of the Composite Battalion sector. To the right and north of Ruin Hill was another artillery ‘company’.

There was one other important Supply Column group on the island: the men who operated the DID and fed the Division. The Crete battle leaves in the mind a confused picture—like a hot mud pool bubbling and spurting steam at random—but through it ran a thread of organisation. It was a frail thread, not always equal to the strain, but along its slender length the army services continued to operate, improvising where necessary and taking the initiative where a break was found. The supply of rations was one of these services.

There was never enough food on Crete, but what there was had to be distributed somehow to the scattered New Zealand units. The prospect was not encouraging: the Column, as a supply unit, was whittled down to a skeleton; transport was negligible; and units were dispersed. The transport problem was solved by reversing the usual procedure: instead of units coming for their rations, the Column delivered to units, and these deliveries were to be maintained through almost continual strafing and bombing.

For the first few days the Division was supplied from an existing DID through a Supply Column officer, Lieutenant McIndoe. As the New Zealand forces grew the Column set up its own DID on 28 April in the disused schoolhouse at Ay Marina. Four Supply Column men, Sergeant Dunn

Sgt G. C. Dunn; born NZ, 12 Mar 1912; clerk; died while p.w. 1 Feb 1942.

and Drivers Brown,

Sgt G. S. Brown; Dunedin; born Dunedin, 28 Apr 1912; railway employee; wounded 14 Jul 1942.

Fisher

Cpl N. G. Fisher; Christchurch; born Southbridge, 22 Aug 1916; bowser assistant; p.w. 18 Jun 1941.

and Chinnery,

Cpl L. M. Chinnery; born Christchurch, 6 Nov 1912; interior decorator; p.w. 1 Jun 1941; killed in motor accident Nov 1946.

were posted to the RASC depot at Canea. Although he was a sick man, Dunn kept his little section operating so that the DID was kept fully supplied with its requirements. Of these four, only Brown escaped from the island.

Composite Battalion, Galatas, 20 May 1941

The ration scale was lower than usual, and was further reduced during the campaign on the orders of Force Headquarters. Requisitioned oranges and potatoes supplemented the diet.

The New Zealand DID had to divide its attention between the Maleme and Galatas areas and between the British and Greek ration strengths. In addition to supplying the Division, it fed 600 RAF personnel at Maleme, the 1300 Greeks of 8 Greek Regiment, which was down the prison road opposite the Divisional Cavalry, and 300 Greek officer cadets some miles past Maleme. Before the invasion a reserve of 80,000 rations and 5000 gallons of petrol, oils and lubricants (known to the Army as POL) were stocked up. To enable it to handle its divided area the Column dumped 20,000 of these rations and 500 gallons of POL south-east of Maleme.

To do its work the unit had at first only one 30-cwt truck on loan from 1 Welch Regiment. Later three three-tonners with Cypriot drivers were received, and eventually the fleet grew to five trucks. The Cypriots proved unsatisfactory—they drove poorly on the narrow roads and were unsteady under fire—and Supply Column drivers took over the vehicles.

The insecurity of the DID in no-man's-land between Maleme and Galatas was pointed out on 13 May by Brigadier Hargest,

Brig J. Hargest, CBE, DSO and bar, MC, m.i.d.; born Gore, 4 Sep 1891; farmer; MP 1931–44; Otago Mounted Rifles 1914–20 (CO 2 Bn Otago Regt); comd 5 Bde Jan 1940-Nov 1941; p.w. 27 Nov 1941; escaped Mar 1943; killed in action, France, 12 Aug 1944.

and it moved on the night of 18–19 May to an open position under olive groves on the prison road, two miles south-west of Canea, not far from where Hook's group was still patiently waiting. The move to this new location was begun at 8.30 p.m., and by midnight all rations and every tin of the POL was stowed away beneath olive trees. The only shelter here were slit trenches that had been dug by the Welch Regiment.

Operating from here as it had done from the earlier position, the supply section despatched trucks singly, each with a driver and NCO, to unit meeting points. Carrying parties shouldered the rations to their positions.

On the evening of 19 May, therefore, Supply Column was in three parts: Boyce's No. 2 Echelon group on Ruin Hill at an angle in Composite Battalion's defences; Hook's No. 1 Echelon group at Camp A, waiting and wondering; and McIndoe's DID on the prison road; just off the Canea-Maleme road.

As industrious as ever, the enemy all this time had been preparing to put into effect his Mercury plan. The island defenders were expecting at the most 10,000 airborne troops and 20,000 seaborne troops. This, in fact, was what the enemy was planning to send. Shielded by 650 fighters, bombers and reconnaissance aircraft of the German 8 Air Corps, II Air Corps was to bring in troops in 600 to 650 troop-carriers and seventy to eighty gliders. The Assault Regiment was to capture Maleme airfield. The 3rd Parachute Regiment was to capture Canea. Two battalions of 2 Parachute Regiment were to take Retimo and probe into Suda. The 1st Parachute Regiment, supported by a battalion of 2 Parachute Regiment, was to take Heraklion. To follow up by sea and air was 5 Mountain Division.

When the men on Crete went to bed on the night of 19 May this German force was stirring to life. In Greece, in the Dodecanese and on some of the larger islands of the Aegean there was movement of men and planes. The propellers began to spin and equipment-laden troops filed into their aircraft. The clock ticked past midnight, and the first troop-carriers roared, lifted cumbrously into the air, and swung away to the south.

Out of the clear Mediterranean sky around 6 a.m. on 20 May the first throbbing flights of bombers came down over Maleme for the usual session of ‘morning hate’. For about an hour they beat up a thunderous pall around the airfield, then droned off to the north. Quietness settled again. ‘An unnatural quietness—like the heavy, tense atmosphere that precedes an electric storm,’ wrote Rawle, who from Ruin Hill had heard the rumble of heavy bombing coming from both Maleme and Canea. ‘Even the birds were silent, as though they sensed the distant pulsating engines before the human ear could hear them.’

The men at Maleme had finished their breakfast in peace when the bombers came again and for ninety minutes pulverised the earth around the airfield. After each wave of bombers came the fighters, raking the ground through the rising dust. Then, as the blitz lifted, the tri-motored Junkers 52s spread across the sky and paratroops fluttered away behind them.

Galatas escaped the main weight of this air bombardment, and while those at Maleme were flattened to the earth, the troops at Galatas were already dealing with the first invading Germans. The first enemy troops bumped on to Cretan soil here about 8 a.m.

In the ominous lull after the first Maleme bomb the Supply Column men on Ruin Hill bolted their breakfast; they were hurrying to their battle stations about 7.20 a.m. as the drone of the first Galatas-bound aircraft came from the north. Skimming low over Theodhoroi Island, they came over at a cheeky altitude. Then down came the bombs and a curtain of machine-gun fire, erupting around Galatas, the ridges running down to the sea and between the prison and the lake or reservoir of Aghya.

On Ruin Hill the men had still not reached their trenches when the aircraft came over, and they flattened where they were. The strafing dragged through its clamorous course of howling engines, blasting bombs and tearing machine guns. Then about eight o'clock the situation changed abruptly.

‘By now the air was full of aircraft and the roar and din was deafening,’ writes Driver Farley.

Cpl C. Farley; Wellington; born Halcombe, 18 Sep 1906; construction worker; p.w. 1 Jun 1941; J Force Mar 1947-Oct 1948.

‘Someone ventured to look up, and then exclaimed, “Hell, look at the size of these things.” I took a glance and saw planes bigger than anything I had ever seen before, and they were just crawling through the air like a hawk compared with a sparrow.’

They were not so large as they may have appeared, but to these crouching men their tapered wings seemed to span the sky. The men who had reached their positions saw more.

As the Germans' zero hour ticked by ‘we saw three gliders flatten out near the dam,’ writes Rawle. ‘A state of paralysis seized us. Our mouths went dry. Then a wedge of low-flying Junkers, trap doors open, came in over Theodhoroi Island, lazily droned inland and split up into groups of three.’

Spraying explosive bullets as they went, these machines banked in over the tree-covered plain and the hills behind Canea. Then the fighters and bombers drew off and the air barrage ceased. The slow, heavy machines were down to about 300 feet when the parachutists came plummeting out, their parachutes snapping taut and ballooning out. Rawle says, ‘We could see every detail: the swinging trap doors in the belly of the fuselage, the pilots craning to see their handiwork.’

Then the spell broke. Machine guns and rifles crackled on all sides and the bullets went zipping among the descending enemy. From one plane dropping in this area, only three men reached the ground unhurt, and those dropping nearer the British lines were mostly killed in the air or on the ground.

Parachutes could be seen sagging to earth around the prison, on the rising ground near Galatas, in the groves around Ruin Hill, in front of Petrol Company and on the heights south of the road across the valley. Around the prison men could be seen freeing themselves from their harness and arranging their parachutes as ground signals.

At 1200 yards these men were a tricky target, and the Bren guns of 1 and 2 Platoons, which were given the task of checking this activity, were indifferent in their aim. However, the spattering of bullets sent the prisoners running for cover, and they did not appear again until later in the day. An enemy mortar to the right of the prison also withdrew behind the shelter of the building.

The paratroopers continued to drift down from passing flights of Junkers. About 150 who landed near Galatas found themselves in 19 Battalion's area: they were quickly dealt with. Composite Battalion kept up fire from behind its defences but made no sorties. In their training the men of this unit had given an unfavourable impression and it was feared that in an attack they would be unable to hold together; their consequent disorganisation would have left a dangerous gap in the defences. Colonel Kippenberger pleaded unsuccessfully for either 19 or 20 Battalion to be brought under command to counter-attack.

On Ruin Hill Boyce's group had a purely defensive role too. It was to hold the hill and that part of the line behind the wire between the hill and Petrol Company's right flank. Supply Column men had to watch in maddening frustration while the enemy troops did as they wished around the prison—even to the extent of driving a British truck up and down the road between the prison and the dam as they concentrated their troops—and they were disappointed they could not patrol. But here again the decision against patrolling was based on what had been seen during training. ‘I am sorry I didn't give permission to use patrols, but anyone who saw the ASC patrols would understand why I did not,’ Colonel Kippenberger explains. ‘Under fire their common-sense asserted itself and they did patrols much better than in exercises, which they undertook unwillingly.’

Thus free to move about as they pleased, the invaders quickly gathered their forces and within an hour put in a thrust towards Galatas. The 6th Greek Battalion, straddling the prison road, had not distributed ammunition received the previous day, and when the Greeks' few rounds were expended they withdrew. The German drive came on Petrol Company. Weaving through the thickets and groves, the Germans approached to within 100 yards before they came into the open. The Petrol Company commander, Captain McDonagh, was fatally wounded and the second-in-command, Second-Lieutenant Jackson,

Lt E. J. Jackson; Christchurch; born Greymouth, 4 Mar 1906; company representative; wounded 20 May 1941.

seriously hit. Senior NCOs took over, and the line held. Some of Pink Hill, which had not been properly manned, was lost, however, and Galatas was threatened.

As the racket of the approaching battle clapped down around them, civilians on the outskirts of Galatas panicked, and their screams as they fled from their houses could be heard from Ruin Hill above the general din. Three Greek girls who found their way into Supply Column's lines took refuge in Lieutenant Ward's slit trench and huddled there until driven out by mortar fire next day.

Galatas, meanwhile, was threatened from the north also. Paratroopers had captured 7 British Hospital and drove some of the staff and patients along the road to Galatas. The 18th and 19th Battalions took a hand, rescued the prisoners, recaptured the hospital and wiped out the enemy.

On the south of Galatas Greeks formed a line and advanced, linking up with 19 Battalion to the east. In Galatas, however, there were still a few stray Germans.

About midday bullets came whizzing up from the groves towards Supply Column on Ruin Hill. The Headquarters runner, Driver Johnson,

Sgt A. J. R. Johnson; born Rangiora, 8 Dec 1917; truck driver; wounded 20 May 1941.

unwillingly provided a bright interlude when he was shot in the buttocks. As the others went to earth he was heard to cry, ‘My God, I'm hit in the bum,’ and there was a general howl of laughter. Corporal Ewing,

Cpl B. C. Ewing; born NZ, 30 Mar 1914; mental hospital attendant; killed in action May 1941.

of the RAP, responded to the distraught pleas of a Greek couple whose child had been badly injured in the aerial blitz; he went to their cottage and was not seen again.

Things began to warm up again on Ruin Hill about 2 p.m. when mortars, machine guns and aircraft swept the area in support of the attack against the Petrol Company positions. The Germans advanced some distance towards Petrol Company without encountering opposition, then abruptly met withering fire from rifles and machine guns. With 50 per cent casualties, half of whom were killed, the Germans fell back to the prison, now being used as a dressing station. Some detachments, however, still remained on Pink Hill.

Away to the south-west, near the dam, Divisional Cavalry was isolated and threatened by superior forces, a situation in which it had been ordered to withdraw. A patrol was sent out to tell it to come in, but Major Russell was already bringing his force in. The group took up a position at Galatas.

As dusk approached all German thrusts had been repelled, but the situation was uneasy. A German prisoner said that more troops were arriving that night, and at 7 p.m. Colonel Kippenberger suggested to Divisional Headquarters that if no counter-attack could be mounted to clear the prison area, where it was suspected that a landing field was being prepared, 10 Brigade should withdraw after dark to a shorter line north and south, straddling the Maleme road.

The attack was ordered and assigned to 19 Battalion. It might have accomplished a great deal, but actually achieved nothing; it falls into the category of ‘might have beens’, which are fairly freely scattered throughout any battle, and of which Crete had its fair share. One company passed between Ruin and Wheat Hills, and the other company between the latter and Galatas; three light tanks of 3 Hussars were in support and one of them became noisily entangled with Supply Column's wire. There was a certain amount of vagueness about the whole affair. Composite Battalion men might have lent supporting fire, but knowing nothing about the counter-attack, could do nothing to help. The attackers themselves, with no clear idea of where their objective was, settled down for the night after going a few hundred yards. The operation was to have been resumed in the morning but was called off.

As the noise of this skirmish died away, Supply Column men not engaged in digging better positions with the few precious picks and shovels available tried unsuccessfully to sleep.

Hook's group, at Camp A, had put in a very useful day—a rather busier one, in fact, than Boyce's. Breakfast was sizzling over the fires when the air blitz started, and the men grasped their rifles. For a while they were spectators. They watched the first flights of Junkers come in lazily from the sea and spill out parachutists over Galatas. The multi-coloured parachutes drifted out of sight behind a ridge. Elsewhere things were happening; they could hear the battle of Crete crackling to life, but they had nothing to do but watch the north. At last, between 9 and 10 a.m., as a number of civilians and evacuated seamen were wandering through the positions, a flight of broad-winged Junkers flew over them and some parachutists came swinging down.

Bren and rifle muzzles went into the air and the bullets tearing upwards caught several Germans as they swung in their harness; the fabrics of some parachutes ripped to shreds and the men fell like stones. One whose parachute became entangled in an olive tree was quickly disposed of.

Those who reached the ground took refuge in heavy undergrowth close to Hook's group. Lieutenant McKenzie set about organising a defence line, linking up with Australian troops on the left and a New Zealand ordnance group on the right.

In the midst of all this a British captain, resplendent in brass buttons, sat under an olive tree, apparently taking notes on what was happening.

In front of 4 Platoon was a clearing about 100 yards broad, ending in a partly dry creek. Into this clearing parachuted a large, bright container. Second-Lieutenant Henshaw and Sergeant Jefcoate debated its contents; possibly it was a booby trap.

‘I asked Corporal Campbell

Cpl G. S. Campbell; born NZ, 26 Jan 1905; tractor driver; p.w. 1 Jun 1941.

to jack up a couple of shots into it to see if it would explode,’ says Jefcoate. Campbell was applying this test when a runner came forward from Hook with instructions to clean out a machine-gun post the enemy had established beyond the creek—about 300 yards away—opposite 4 Platoon and covering the container. Jefcoate says:

Henshaw immediately said to me, ‘Come on and bring the boys,’ and he dashed off ahead. Darcy Hatsell

Dvr C. D. Hatsell; Spreydon; born NZ 28 Nov 1917; labourer; wounded 20 May 1941.

was on his right, I on his left and slightly behind, and Campbell, Jim Washer

Dvr L. H. Washer; Lyttelton; born Christchurch, 13 Oct 1915; labourer.

and Wickie Newman

Dvr T. W. Newman; Auckland; born Mangere, 18 Jun 1914; taxi-driver; p.w. 1 Jun 1941.

on my left. As Henshaw neared the container, which we had to pass, we met a burst of fire. Henshaw fell beside the container. Hatsell said, ‘I'm hit,’ and I felt a crack on my right ribs.

Henshaw was dead and Hatsell wounded in the right lung. Jefcoate, who was carrying the spare ammunition in his haversack, told Hatsell to crawl back to the lines while he went on. Jefcoate dashed for the creek with bullets whipping up the dust around him. He flung himself into the creek bed—and landed in the platoon's latrine.

I joined Campbell, Washer and Newman in the bottom of the creek (Jefcoate's story continues). A redheaded Tommy sergeant came from somewhere. He had a few hand grenades and was trying to get close to a house near the creek in which some Jerries were sniping from a window. He went off on his own job, and we tried to find out just where our objective was hidden.

At this stage two Greek boys, civilians, armed with old Greek rifles with long octagonal bayonets attached, came along the creek and said to us, ‘We find 'em,’ and away they went too. The next thing we knew a grenade exploded near us. Several more arrived and exploded too close for comfort. I stood up to have a look in the direction from which they were coming. Campbell stood up also. The next thing I knew a grenade hit me in the stomach with an awful smack but did not explode until it was passing my right knee.

That put Jefcoate out of the running, but the other men went on and flushed a German nest from a grain field.

The English sergeant, meanwhile, was working in towards the house, visible also from D Section's positions under the olive trees. During this time the metal container was recovered and found to contain a Spandau machine gun and four boxes of ammunition, which Driver Drake

Dvr J. R. Drake; born NZ 21 Oct 1901; labourer; p.w. 1 Jun 1941.

brought into action as English troops closed in on the house. A grenade through a window finished the job, and shortly afterwards the English troops emerged escorting twenty-seven Germans and displaying a red and black swastika flag.

This ended the day's excitement for No. 1 Echelon. Unmolested for the rest of the afternoon, this group utilised the time digging in, arranging passwords and organising pickets. During the night there was only one disturbance. Hearing movement in the undergrowth, the sentry, Driver Taylor,

Dvr W. G. Taylor, m.i.d.; Collingwood; born Wakefield, 6 May 1912; driver; p.w. May 1941; escaped 1941.

called halt three times, and receiving no reply fired a few shots. The noise ceased, but it was an uneasy night. A search at first light revealed a dead donkey.

The DID on the prison road escaped attention from paratroops on this first day, though the men there saw them fall some distance away—too far away to deal with. Their open dump, however, was an invitation to aircraft, and fighters prowling around at tree-top level came down with machine-gun and cannon fire at the slightest sign of movement.

From the moment of the invasion the distribution of rations was immensely complicated. Fortunately many of the troops were too busy and too tense on the first day to give food even a thought; movement on the roads in daylight became impossible for ration trucks. That night the trucks growled cautiously along dark roads as drivers peered about for familiar landmarks—and for any sign of the ubiquitous enemy.

At the end of the day the enemy in the Galatas area was on the defensive; but at Maleme he had succeeded in getting a toehold on the vital airfield and by the next morning was in full possession of it.

Further east, at Retimo and Heraklion, German parachutists and glider-borne troops had come down as scheduled during the afternoon, but at neither place had serious threats developed, and when darkness came the situation, though uncomfortable, was in hand.

While, under cover of darkness, the defenders of Crete were swinging picks to improve positions, watching for signs of the enemy or just trying to sleep, more planes were droning down from the north. First came the brisk little Messerschmitts and the Dorniers, and behind them the Stukas. As the sun came up over the island the fighters and bombers went to work again with punctual enthusiasm.

At Maleme soon after 8 a.m. a Dornier that had been bombing the airfield perimeter swooped down and landed. Shellbursts blossomed around it, but the plane gathered way again and was quickly off the ground. From this the enemy learned that although he held the airfield it was still not his to use at will. Elsewhere—on the beaches and further inland—troop-transport machines crash-landed, and more paratroops came showering down. Not until late in the afternoon did the enemy attempt to use the airfield for a hazardous air ferry service. Like firewalkers, the Ju 52s skimmed down, discharged their troops, and took off again.

At Galatas the day began with the expectation of trouble. During the night a message had come from Force Headquarters that the German plan was to mass parachutists along the valley road and thrust through Galatas and the hospital and along the main road to Canea. Ammunition was to be dropped at midday at points to be indicated by the enemy with green smoke signals. In addition to this, other reports said that the Germans had landed on the coast by the hospital.

As it turned out the day was relatively quiet along most of the front—to begin with, patrols failed to locate the reported landing parties—but there was a spirited dispute over the possession of Cemetery Hill, which the Germans had occupied during the night. Apart from this the main activity consisted of exchanges of fire: mortar bombs and machine-gun and rifle bullets from the enemy, and artillery, machine-gun and rifle fire in return. This included fire from two Vickers established that morning on Wheat Hill, to the left rear of Captain Boyce's company, where 5 Field Regiment group was in position.

The Luftwaffe, of course, was everywhere, though Ruin Hill escaped attention for some time. During the morning it was allotted its share of mortar and machine-gun fire, and a platoon headquarters sited in a hole on the slope of the hill was demolished by a direct hit from a mortar bomb, fortunately while the platoon commander, Lieutenant Rawle, was away.

The scene of the main action of the day was Cemetery Hill. A company of 19 Battalion, with some help from two light tanks and supported by mortars, pushed the enemy off this feature soon after midday, capturing about fourteen machine guns and ammunition, destroying four mortars and taking several prisoners. But the hill was bald and a most uncomfortable spot from whichever way it was defended. Machine-gun and mortar fire sent the 19 Battalion company back, and the hill became no-man's-land.

Enemy attention to Ruin Hill became more troublesome at midday, and the first casualties of the day came in the afternoon. A mortar bomb burst right in a trench, wounding five, two seriously. Lieutenant Ward was stunned by flying rock. The three Greek girls in his trench fled. One of the wounded died shortly afterwards; it was the first death.

Because of casualties and fire, it was decided about 4 p.m. to pull 1 Platoon back from the forward positions. A Bren gun was moved up to the crest and installed in the ripening wheat.

The attack from the valley was still expected, and the Ruin Hill defenders, on their important feature, were not altogether happy. However, reinforcements in the form of twelve gunners under Lieutenant Dill

Lt J. P. Dill, m.i.d.; born England, 20 Aug 1915; fur merchant; died of wounds May 1941.

enabled 1 Platoon positions to be manned again. No. 3 Platoon, less one section, took up positions on the eastern side of the hill, the remaining section linking up with Petrol Company across the hollow, 200 yards back from the wire.

The day drew on but there was no attack. The atmosphere was taut and the tension was reflected in an inability to swallow food. ‘I recall on about the second day there was bread and margarine with cheese passed around,’ says Farley. ‘It took me all my time to swallow a bit of bread. It just seemed to stick in my throat. A drink of tea was a Godsend; in fact I drank it out of an unwashed M and V tin that was at hand on the bank and declared it the best drink I had ever had.’

But though there was no attack, the enemy was visibly active. Away on Observation Hill (also known as Signal Hill) to the south-west, Greek civilians who had been released from the gaol could be seen driving a laden donkey up to the summit, possibly to establish a German observation post.

Hook's No. 1 Echelon group did little this day. In the morning it retired sixty yards nearer Canea with the intention of digging an anti-tank ditch. However, a new order sent it further away from its old position, and after taking up a new defensive position it was engaged in digging and wiring, a task in which it persisted in spite of constant air attack.

As darkness closed down on Crete again the men on Ruin Hill saw red, green and white flares, darting tracer and bursting shells scintillating over Cemetery Hill. Around midnight vivid orange flashes stabbed the darkness out to sea and searchlights swung across the sky. Guns grumbled, then explosions erupted dyspeptically. A searchlight's beam would sweep an arc then freeze onto a spot, with tracer darting after it. Then the steady glow of fires tinged the night. All this, although it was not clear to those on land at the time, was the intercepting by the Royal Navy of the Germans' first attempt to bring in troops and equipment by sea. Not one craft reached the island.

As the clock turned around into 22 May—the third day of the invasion—the New Zealanders were preparing a counter-attack to retake Maleme airfield. From the start everything seemed to go wrong. There were delays that held up the zero hour three hours. It was 3 a.m. when 20 Battalion and 28 (Maori) Battalion went forward. In the darkness they made headway, but as daylight showed the Germans what was happening, intense mortar and machine-gun fire, and the omnipresent Luftwaffe, checked the advance on the edge of the airfield and drove it back.

The attack had failed and the Germans now firmly held the airfield. But it was still an unhealthy spot, and the constantly landing Junkers bringing in more troops put down and took off with alacrity among shellbursts. Some were hit; others careered into wrecked planes or cartwheeled into craters. The alert infantry claimed some with small-arms fire. It was a rare chance for them to tackle aircraft on their own level. But the planes kept on coming.

The comings and goings at Maleme began a hopeful story. Perhaps because men were seen to run to some planes as they touched down, a report got about that the Germans were getting out. These men were observed to be working parties unloading stores, but the report of possible evacuation outstripped the true facts. It was carried to Headquarters New Zealand Division by Brigadier Hargest and filtered down to the troops as a rumour offering unbelievable hope. The constant stream of planes roaring up from Maleme and wheeling out to sea past Theodhoroi Island seemed sure confirmation.

To test the story 10 Brigade was instructed to apply pressure. Patrols were sent out and one attack was made by men of 19 Battalion south across the valley road in the mid-afternoon, but after three hours' desultory fighting they withdrew. Composite Battalion did its part by sending out patrols: to Ay Marina and Stalos, towards the Aghya Reservoir, and into the hills directly west of Red Hill. Some found Germans and exchanged unpleasantries. Others found absolutely nothing. The two patrols that went towards the reservoir were commanded by Captain Boyce and Lieutenant Dill. They met and disposed of light opposition. Except for Boyce's batman, no Supply Column men took part.

Apart from these activities, 10 Brigade contented itself with silencing several mortar positions, shooting up some near the prison with machine guns, and blasting the Signal Hill position with artillery.

By the morning of this day—22 May—the Supply Column men on Ruin Hill were weary. They had had little sleep and had been under fire from the air and ground; lethargy hung on them, and they had to resist a desire to stretch out in a slit trench and let the heat and the pulsating throb of aircraft engines lull them to sleep. Even under attack the desire to sleep became almost overwhelming.

Snipers' bullets began to fly about during the morning from among the olive groves and the cottage close to Ruin Hill. The few targets that were seen were fired on promptly, and 3 Platoon in particular had good shooting that morning. One rubber-booted German, however, slipped right through the platoon, glimpsed but not tracked down.

Aircraft were left strictly alone as the Luftwaffe was quick to resent interference from the ground. Supply Column sent back a report on the mortar position on Observation Hill and as shellbursts mushroomed on the summit a cheer went up. The guns then turned on the prison.

There was swift retaliation: enemy mortars and an automatic firing explosive bullets began to bark, and like angry hornets six Messerschmitts whined down and sprayed everything in sight, Ruin Hill included, for forty-five minutes. When the strafing eased up the bombers blanketed Wheat Hill. Then incendiary bullets set alight ripe grain near 1 Platoon's Bren gun on Ruin Hill.

Petrol Company, almost next door, continued to take punishment from mortars and machine guns, and Sergeant Earl's platoon, on a flank extended to support Petrol Company, took the overs.

No one in Supply Column had a busier day than the group's commanding officer, Boyce, for in addition to his sortie in charge of a patrol, lack of communications made him a regular commuter between Ruin Hill and Battalion Headquarters.

The enemy appeared to have a fixed idea that the best way to Galatas was through the Petrol Company positions and, come hell and high water, he was going that way, for around 7 p.m., after sitting back and watching the softening-up from the air, he came forward again from the valley. He pushed up to Pink Hill on the verge of Galatas, and from Ruin Hill the Supply Column men could see screaming women and children fleeing in front of the Germans, who could be seen darting among the houses below the town. Divisional Cavalry, on Petrol Company's left flank, counter-attacked with a troop. A platoon of 19 Battalion and a force of Greeks also attacked, and a platoon from Composite Battalion Headquarters cleaned up. The line was re-established, and a second Russell Force was formed by placing a platoon of 19 Battalion and Petrol Company under Major Russell's command.

The enemy in the valley now was badly knocked about, but his movements following the attack suggested to the men on Ruin Hill that the German force might be moving away from the prison to behind Observation Hill. A report to this effect to Divisional Headquarters created an impression that an attempt was being made to cut off 5 Brigade.

When the day was over the Galatas defences were intact, though the defenders were wilting. At Maleme, however, things had been going badly, and a withdrawal by 5 Brigade to near Ay Marina was ordered. The brigade pulled back and during the morning of 23 May established a new line east of the Platanias River. The Germans followed up and pummelled the new positions. In the Galatas sector adjustments were made to meet the new situation, and patrols from 10 Brigade linked up with patrols from 5 Brigade to safeguard the two-mile gap now separating the two formations.

Usual straffing at dawn, but enemy and machine-gun fire quieter. Constant arrival of troop planes at Maleme aerodrome. Enemy presumed to be massing behind Observation Hill. Enemy reconnaissance plane landed at prison, apparently not taken during the night as ordered. Information poor. Range of enemy mortars increases. Shells landed in company reserve.

This terse summary in the Supply Column war diary eloquently expresses the situation the tired men on Ruin Hill faced that morning on 23 May. The day was comparatively quiet, but clearly something was brewing. The enemy was steadily moving into position on the high ground west of 10 Brigade, and large carrying parties could be seen. The next drive must come from the west on the part of the line as yet untouched.

Most of Composite Battalion, in fact, had done little more than watch the war at a distance and pass the time of day dodging mortar bombs and bullets, sending a few in return. But they were tired men. The battalion now consisted of 4 RMT Company, 4 Field Regiment, No. 2 Echelon of Supply Column, and a 5 Field Regiment detachment. Petrol Company was with Russell Force.

On their dominating feature Supply Column men may have drawn more fire than detachments further up the line. They were, in any case, not sorry when 4 Brigade, previously in reserve, came forward to take over Composite Battalion's front. The 18th Battalion relieved Supply Column—or supposedly relieved it. In actual fact, when Boyce withdrew his company from the hill between 10 p.m. and 11 p.m., the hill was virtually given over to the enemy; it seems that Lieutenant-Colonel Gray,

Brig J. R. Gray, ED, m.i.d.; born Wellington, 7 Aug 1900; barrister and solicitor; CO 18 Bn Sep 1939-Nov 1941, Mar-Jun 1942; comd 4 Bde 29 Jun-5 Jul 1942; killed in action 5 Jul 1942.

commanding 18 Battalion, decided to shorten his line by excluding this feature. Later, when the Germans moved onto the hill, the defences were enfiladed by their fire. Ironically enough, a Supply Column detachment was to be one of the chief sufferers.

Cold and tired, the men of Boyce's group tramped back along a winding track behind Wheat Hill. In darkness they ‘followed the leader’ up and down hills, over walls and ditches until at last they climbed a steep track up to olive groves north-west of Galatas. They were now—for confusion—on Ruin Ridge, very close to the town. Composite Battalion Headquarters was in a nearby building.

During the night the situation had been changing. Fifth Brigade had taken another step back and was now behind the Galatas line near the village of Efthymi. Fourth Brigade faced the enemy.

Out in front of the old Composite Battalion defences there was movement after dawn on 24 May. The 18th Battalion could see men moving into position in the broken country to the west. In the prison valley there was considerable activity, and from Ruin Hill the enemy had a clear view over much of the Galatas defences.

Beneath their olive tree and prickly-pear plants on Ruin Ridge the Supply Column men began digging in as soon as there was enough light to see. After breakfast there was a chance to wash and shave, almost a novel experience by this time. But though this was a reserve area it was far from peaceful. Positions had hardly been completed before mortar bombs came down with deadly accuracy. One hit a machine-gun post among prickly pear, wounding Lieutenant Ward, Sergeant Clarke

Sgt L. G. Clarke; Oamaru; born Oamaru, 22 Jun 1913; transport driver and mechanic; wounded 24 May 1941; p.w. 28 May 1941.

and Corporal Jackson.

Sgt W. D. Jackson; born Alexandra, 19 Nov 1912; transport driver; wounded 24 May 1941.

No. 2 Platoon came under the command of 1 Platoon.

At 9 a.m. a rude shock came. Captain Bliss had been told to take his group to reinforce the line between Wheat and Pink Hills. As it turned out the whole manœuvre was like a punch at cotton wool—there was nothing to hit—but in its beginnings it had promise of excitement. Boyce brought back orders for a counter-attack down the slope and through the olive groves to the southern extremity of Wheat Hill. The men formed into an irregular line. They had rifles—though few had bayonets—Bren guns and grenades. There was a certain amount of surprise among the men in the front line at all this activity, but the Supply Column men went forward. They had in any case worked up a battle spirit.

‘At the order to charge the “jam jugglers” surged forward, yelling and cursing and taking all obstacles in their stride, possessed of a queer, murderous enthusiasm born of the intense excitement of the moment,’ says a report by Rawle.

In the best Balaclava tradition they plunged down the slope and through the trees, alert for the slightest movement ahead. But there was no movement and no sound. Panting, they came to the end of their run and found themselves in undisputed possession of the olive grove where the Petrol Company had had some fierce clashes. Unburied dead sprawled in the undergrowth and equipment littered the ground.

In the advance the flanks had come unstuck: a party of Greeks was supposed to be on the left and an artillery group under Major Sprosen on the right. A party went to the right to see what could be found. They wormed their way through crops on the lip of Wheat Hill to have a look at Ruin Hill. Some machine-gunners, when told what was going on, implied that they had taken leave of their senses, and they objected strongly to the patrol moving in front of their guns to have a closer look at Ruin Hill. The abandonment of this feature was rankling.

An attack from the enemy was still apparently possible, and Boyce's group settled down into apprehensive idleness; the stimulus of the attack had worn off, and they were weary men again. Milk and sugar found near an olive tree were mixed with water and handed around; everyone felt better.

For the next seven and a half hours the men sat here and waited for the enemy to act, and they were not sorry when they were told to fall back. By the time an enemy attack broke against 18 Battalion the Supply Column men were sheltering behind a stone wall flanking the road near Galatas. A few overs came their way.

The clamour that could be heard from the west was the opening scene of the last act in the defence of Galatas. It was an act in which a small group of the Supply Column was to play an important part.

Heavy pressure had come on 18 Battalion late that afternoon, and C Company, in the centre, was pushed off Red Hill. Lieutenant-Colonel Gray asked for a company to stiffen the battalion. In compliance Lieutenant MacLean's

Maj G. MacLean; Wanganui; born Wellington, 13 Nov 1915; farmer; twice wounded.

platoon of 4 Field Regiment was sent from 10 Brigade Headquarters. It was followed by most of Bliss's men: two more 4 Field Regiment platoons and the Supply Column group, about 120 men in all, under Boyce.

As Boyce's men moved forward in the growing dark, red tracer snaked through the pale moonlight. For the men this was another follow-the-leader move to nowhere in particular. They dragged heavy feet over rough tracks and kept a bleary eye on the next man in line ahead. Fatigue hung on them and their rifles and packs dragged on their shoulders. Just how tired they were is graphically described by Farley who, in common with the others, dropped to the ground as soon as a halt was at last called.

It was not long before I was asleep, along with many others, and when I awoke I heard someone calling, ‘Come on No. 2 platoon,’ which was the platoon I was in. Sleepily I arose, and, fumbling about in the dark, managed to get my things together and slung on my back. By this time the head of the platoon was moving off and all I had to do was keep the rear man in sight to be with them. When a halt was called and we got together I found I was not with our platoon at all, but a No. 2 platoon from another unit. There were several other chaps from the supply unit who made the same mistake as myself.

On the face of it, these reinforcements, so tired, so untrained, were a weak reed. This, at least, appears to have been the view of Lieutenant-Colonel Gray. His opinion may have been influenced by the already unfavourable impression the Composite Battalion positions had made on him when 18 Battalion took over—trenches were too wide and too shallow and badly concealed, and wiring poor—but in the result it was an exceedingly tough reed, and certainly these drivers and gunners turned infantry could not be blamed for the final collapse in front of Galatas.

D Company of 18 Battalion was still where RMT had been in the earlier days of the invasion, from the bluff inland to Red Hill. Red Hill, however, had been lost, regained and lost again during the afternoon and evening, and C Company was now back on Murray Hill. A Company was on Wheat Hill. No. 11 Platoon of B Company was wedged between D and C Companies and 10 Platoon of B Company between C and A Companies. Across the southern flank—on Pink Hill and across the road south of Galatas—was Russell Force, consisting of Divisional Cavalry, Petrol Company and a 4 Field Regiment platoon.

The reinforcements were to be fitted into 18 Battalion's defence line. At a track junction they were split up, some men in the confusion going astray. Sixteen men of 1 Platoon of Boyce's depleted group were given two Bren guns and all the digging tools and set the task of improving old Welch Regiment trenches on Murray Hill. The rest, under Boyce, were redisposed by Bliss in support of 18 Battalion, left centre.

Rawle led the sixteen men up through vineyards to the hilltop where, in the light of the insipid moon, they began hacking at stubborn rock. The trenches were lined along the hump of the feature, and the working men may have sensed the menace from the darkness to the west. As they swung their picks, there was movement nearby as Corporal Mitchell

Cpl J. McD. Mitchell; born Wanganui, 8 Jan 1916; labourer; died of wounds 25 May 1941.

and about ten men of 11 Platoon 18 Battalion brought up another Bren gun and set about siting it in the trench on the right. Another early morning arrival—about 3 a.m.—was Sergeant Bradshaw,

Sgt W. M. Bradshaw; Wellington; born Wellington, 25 Nov 1916; cost clerk; p.w. 25 May 1941.

of 27 (Machine Gun) Battalion, with a section of seven men. With his Vickers, minus tripod, Bradshaw had been in action in various parts of the front and had been detailed to assist Rawle's detachment.

By the time the moon was set, the only appreciable inroad that had been made was the removal of a soft upper stratum in one trench, enabling one Bren gun to be set up. Elsewhere, the trenches remained shallow, but the best had to be made of them. Branches, grass and wheatstalks were woven into camouflage both for the guns and the men's headdress—rolled balaclavas—and as the first light of Sunday 25 May came into the sky the men were in position and watching for the anticipated attack.

On the extreme left was a Bren gun manned by Drivers Cox

Dvr G. Cox; born NZ, 24 Sep 1913; labourer; killed in action 25 May 1941.

and Gibbs.

2 Lt M. K. Gibbs, MM; Owaka; born Owaka, 20 Dec 1914; truck driver; wounded 25 May 1941.

To the right of this was another trench, then a fig tree, by which the Vickers had been set up on an ammunition box. To the right again was a long trench in which the second Bren, manned by Driver Le Compte and Lance-Corporal Langdon,

L-Cpl L. G. Langdon; born Ashburton, 23 Jul 1916; lorry driver; wounded May 1941; died 21 Jul 1954.

was set up. In the fourth trench, on the extreme right, was the 18 Battalion Bren. Two fig trees just to the north of this marked where the ground fell away sharply to D Company's positions. To the south the hump of the hill fell away more gradually to C Company's positions. There were some 11 Platoon men in the vines down this slope.

As the sun came up behind them the men on Murray Hill looked across a gully to Red Hill, about 400 yards away. Half left from their position and almost due south of Red Hill was a small feature on which there was a grove. In the saddle between the two was a vineyard. Further south still was the familiar shape of Ruin Hill, now in enemy hands. The assignment of the men on Murray Hill was to keep the enemy off Red Hill, which was slightly higher than their position, and to stop him coming through the grove and the vineyard to the south. They were to hang on at all costs. Information, water and rations had been promised at dawn but had not arrived.

Strafing planes were spitting viciously all along the front, but on the ground the enemy kept out of sight. Somewhere behind the curtain of trees and vines and beyond the blind ridge of the hill the Germans were deploying and moving up, but the sun was high before the first trace of movement could be seen from Murray Hill. About 8 a.m. the first heads showed on the crest of Red Hill, and the first impetuous bursts from Brens and Vickers stuttered across the valley.

There was a broad, deep sangar on top of Red Hill built up with loose rocks. At one point there was a niche through which men could peer, but Bradshaw had been there the previous day and knew where to shoot. So whenever curious German eyes sought to look across to the New Zealand line they met a stream of lead. Observing with binoculars from near the fig tree on the right, Corporal Starkey, of Supply Column, kept the machine-gunners posted as their shots went home.

About 9 a.m. mortar bombs and shells came down along the whole front. The battle was stirring to life, and from its iron throat came a blast of sound; guttural booming, staccato crackling, thunderclap banging, all tumbled together with howling aircraft engines into a powerful surge of noise that enveloped and dulled the senses.

And what the senses of these men recorded is all that is left for us to know. Certain things are established and reasonably certain; broad outlines are clear. But who did precisely what, and when, are imponderables that no one can ever know—and those who think they do know will never agree. It is possible to bring out of battle a connected story, provided there is a boldly defined chain of events to impress the mind, but here on a hilltop, huddled in trenches and immersed in confusion and racket, there was nothing so tidy as that. Certain things were close and real: noise, fear, smoke, heat, dust, sweat, the smell of burned cordite. These were immediate, forceful, inescapable. For the rest, there were snap impressions, linked together in some vague way: figures moving and coming closer; men bleeding, falling; other men moving about with an apparent plan in an apparently planless maze. There was no time, only the present. The last second was gone, the next might never come. For the man in the trench the whole of creation centred around a jittering Bren gun or a jerking rifle, and obscure figures down among the trees.

Mount Olympus from above the camp north of Katerini

Field Supply Depot south of Olympus

Livadhion, a village above Ay Dhimitrios, where potatoes were bought for the Division by Supply Column

Village belles, Tricola, near Salonika

Supply Column camp area south of Elasson

Cookhouse at Atalandi on 20 April 1941—Driver R. Eastwick standing

On the Thurland Castle after evacuation from Greece

Approach to Kea Island early on the morning of 25 April

These figures were working forward, and as the morning progressed spandaus began to hammer at the ridge from close at hand, and rifles cracked from among the groves. Bullets snicking through the vines on the left bowled over some 18 Battalion men, and a sergeant-major brought the rest of the men closer in to the detachment's left flank.

At every observed movement across the valley the machine guns chattered. Cox by midday had shot his way through a box of ammunition—1000 rounds.

Though many men were too busy to see it, there was one brief, heart-lifting incident early in the afternoon. Like a vision, six Blenheims in neat formation, their red, white and blue RAF roundels showing clearly, droned by in a sort of vacuum; a moment before the air had been full of wings with black crosses, but now these six flew overhead in a clear sky, coming from the direction of Maleme and heading towards Suda. Tired eyes followed them, half joyfully, half wistfully.

To the west there were Germans everywhere, from the coast, along the ridges and down to the prison valley. While they gathered for the assault, the mortars and machine guns directed fire at the New Zealanders, and in the early afternoon steel splinters and lead were flying freely about Murray Hill. A mortar bomb burst near the centre Bren gun, shell-shocking Langdon. Le Compte took him out at great risk.

The crest of Red Hill had been kept clear, but behind it the Germans were forming up. D Company, on the right, took the worst of it and for an hour fought furiously. In the south A Company and the troopers and drivers held their ground. At 3 p.m. a lull settled.

In this lull Farley, in a reserve position behind C Company and thoroughly tired of crouching and hiding, took an excursion to the front line. He says:

Away to my right, and well out in front of our line were many figures. These I took to be patrolling parties from our side, though I could not be sure. The men were moving in different directions, some coming towards me, others going towards the German line. There were two figures very noticeable on their own because they were crossing an open wheat or rye paddock. The enemy must have seen them, too, but he was not uncertain, for the next minute a mortar bomb plopped by them. When they dropped a tree in the line of vision hid them from view. I only saw one reappear afterwards.

But the lull was only comparative, for Murray Hill was still lively, and about 3.15 p.m. a bullet furrowed Rawle's skull and he went down. For a while he looked convincingly dead, particularly to men who could only spare a glance from their work. Still working on their original orders to hang on at all costs, they kept at their guns and rifles, and were agreeably surprised soon afterwards to find him, head bandaged, with them again.

Fire was pouring in from Ruin Hill and from points to the south-west, and though Red Hill had been made too hot for Jerry, there was a lot of movement in the grove and the vineyard. A runner was killed, and attempts to make contact with Battalion Headquarters failed.

Things began to go wrong. A brisk wind from the sea swept up over the hot rock of Murray Hill and tore away camouflage. Mortars or incendiaries set fire to scrub around the central fig tree. Then two Brens went out of action: Cox's (on the left) had a stoppage and Mitchell's (on the right) was permanently wrecked by a mortar bomb.

The Germans grasped the opportunity to set up a machine gun on Red Hill. Cox cleared his gun and in five minutes his bullets had sought out and accounted for both this and another machine gun in the grove.

Opposite the 18 Battalion front—from the sea to Wheat Hill—were two enemy groups: the Assault Regiment against C and D Companies and a battalion of 100 Mountain Regiment against A Company and the 4 Field Regiment detachment. There was a second battalion of 100 Mountain Regiment in the prison valley to attack the southern curve of the line. Remnants of 3 Parachute Regiment were between the prison and Perivolia, and two battalions of 85 Mountain Regiment were brought against 8 Greek Regiment at Alikianou.

The mortar barrage was working up to a fury, and to the north screaming Stukas could be seen plunging on D Company. About 4 p.m. the enemy came out of the olive trees on each side of Red Hill and jabbed at either flank of Murray Hill. They came towards D Company in a solid wave, ignoring the bullets whipping through their ranks. Bradshaw, behind his Vickers, became aware that there was a movement en masse to the east. At first it was difficult to sort friend from foe; everyone seemed to be running at full pelt. Then, as he sorted them out, he fired at the enemy as hard as he could.

About this time what is described as the first message of the day came through, but it was more likely a report from Starkey, still spotting on the right. It simply said that ‘18 Battalion on our right’ had surrendered. The next message, passed from mouth to mouth, was for the 18 Battalion men on the hill to fix bayonets and prepare to counter-attack under the covering fire of the ASC men. ‘This was later washed out, but I admired the way the men of the 18th got ready to do their stuff,’ says Driver Philipson,

Dvr J. B. Philipson; born England, 11 Nov 1899; tractor and truck driver; wounded May 1941.

of Supply Column.

To the south the line was cracking also. A Company, on Wheat Hill, under intense fire from Ruin Hill, was forced back through Galatas. C Company, with exposed flanks, was ordered to withdraw.

The attack was now swirling around Murray Hill like an incoming tide. On either flank the infantry was falling back. Men in reserve gathered up their equipment and took to their heels when they heard breathless warnings. Everywhere there was a note of urgency, everywhere men in a hurry. Farley says:

I ran up to the hedge line and retrieved my pack. Had my rifle and ammo already on. Away we tore, hell for leather. Never even took time to slip my pack on properly but just carried it on one strap. As I beat it down the track there were men running before me. Every possie I passed was well cleared out…. I panted up the slope towards Galatas, getting near winded with my pack and rifle becoming near a ton weight: I had passed many articles of discarded gear and decided to get rid of my pack. I placed it by the side of the track and memorised the place as I thought I would pick it up later. Instead of going straight up into Galatas we made a left turn and went along a sunken pathway until we were on the seaward side of the village. Then, by various tracks we made for the top of the ridge and so to the road and shelter. But the face of the ridge was absolutely peppered with bullets from rifles and machine-guns, and from the latter they were explosive ones. The sun was well towards the west, and from the angle it was shining it showed up the trail of nearly every bullet—made a silvery trail of smoke.

So far the climb had been among trees and huge cactus bushes and below firing level, but now we had come up to the level of this lead barrage and there was a clear strip to cross to gain the shelter of the eastern side of the ridge. It was into this strip that most of the bullets were driving. I waited a few moments and mapped out a course: south under cover, here and there, of cactus bushes for about three chains, then turn left and make straight through to the road using the few olive trees as cover. The distance across the danger zone would be about 100 to 125 yards.

I made it. Others had gone before me and made it except one. He had got half way across and stopped a slug. He was on his knees with blood pouring from his mouth and nose. Ahead of him by some 20 yards was apparently his mate, who had turned and seen his plight. He seemed undecided whether he should turn back. The wounded one waved him on weakly.

Once the road was made I was able to breathe a little more easily. There was quite a gathering of men on the road and below it, most of them Supply Column chaps, including an officer who was wounded but who was still able to carry on. After a few minutes confab we decided to keep across open country. Nobody knew where we were going, so it was a sort of every man for himself affair.

But they were still not out of trouble, for mortars burst about them ‘with a shattering wham. It was like a charge across no-man's-land.’ And so the mad rush went on, harassed by mortars and aircraft.

On Murray Hill Rawle's men were fighting it out. Precariously placed on an insecure salient, they were fighting still on their first orders—‘Hold out at all costs’—unaware that a heavy Stuka raid on Galatas about 4 p.m. had broken all communications and that their chances of hearing a withdrawal order were remote. At 4.30 p.m. the enemy turned his attention to the troublesome hill. Mortar bombs and bullets showered in from three directions: front, right and rear. At 5 p.m. a strong formation began to close in from Ruin Hill. Cox swung his gun to meet the straggling line of men, and in so doing exposed himself to fire from Red Hill. He was pounding away when a bullet caught him between the eyes. As he fell dead, Gibbs took over.

The enemy was pressing close and stick bombs were flying in from the left and bursting in the central trench. How long this furious battle kept up is hard to determine. Eventually a runner came through from the rear holding a white-lined British warm in front of him. The enemy presumably took this to be a white flag, for fire eased appreciably, but as the runner threw himself flat on the hilltop, the hammering began again. The runner jerked out to Bradshaw, ‘You're to get out if you can.’ Bradshaw passed the word down, and Rawle, his face white and his head bandaged, appeared and asked, ‘What's going on?’ Bradshaw told him, and the retirement began. As the men jumped up and dashed for cover, Bradshaw and Gibbs stayed at their guns. One or two men fell.

Gibbs was pounding away on the left, with bullets whipping about and the Germans advancing up the hill.

Bradshaw's gun was still stuttering when he turned to find three Germans spraying into the trench with tommy guns. With two other survivors of 27 Battalion he was taken away a prisoner. When they were taken beyond Red Hill they saw to their satisfaction that the ground was liberally littered with German dead. Their sweeping of Red Hill had been effective.

The others who had gone back had crawled off Murray Hill on their bellies through grape vines with bullets plunking around them and Germans only fifteen feet away. They reached the shelter of a low stone wall, then made an S movement through German detachments to the old Battalion Headquarters area. They finally reached a deep gully, where they met Bliss and were guided back to Ruin Ridge ahead of the German advance.

The detachment suffered 50 per cent casualties on the ridge. There had been further casualties on the way out, and at least four men, one of whom was wounded, surrendered.

For his leadership during the battle and for his skilful extrication of the detachment, Rawle was awarded the MC. Gibbs, for his covering action and for his consistently steady behaviour during the campaign, was awarded the MM.

The German advance was now rolling forward. In the south Petrol Company, Divisional Cavalry and the 4 Field Regiment men were holding, but around Galatas resistance was crumbling.

The RMT group, in reserve on Ruin Ridge, was told to hold, and while 18 Battalion stragglers streamed back through their lines, these men stood their ground. Fire was coming in from three directions. News came that Major Lewis's

Maj H. M. Lewis; London; born Wanganui, 27 Dec 1908; company secretary.

headquarters had gone, and the RMT group, too, withdrew. There then remained only two companies of 20 Battalion. They were in good order and stood firm. The 23rd Battalion came up, and the 20 Battalion companies were pulled back to form a line from the coast to Galatas.

Meanwhile, east of Galatas a force was accumulating on Church Hill from the bits and pieces of 18 Battalion and Composite Battalion. Some men, however, were scrambling back hot foot, and were not to be stopped.

That night the various detachments of Composite Battalion made their way back to Transit Camp A to reorganise and prepare to fight again. However, already dispersed in various positions when the German assault began, the different parts of the battalion were never able, in the confused situation, to pull themselves completely together again, and some men who had joined the mad stampede were roaming without orders or without any idea of what they should do.

Between the coast and Galatas the enemy's way was barred by two companies of 20 Battalion. South of Galatas Divisional Cavalry, Petrol Company and the 4 Field Regiment group drew back before the Germans entered Galatas in force.

The German intention was to form on a line running from the hospital, just east of Galatas, through Cemetery Hill, and then to the south-west. Two battalions of 100 Mountain Regiment advanced on Galatas, one from the west, past Wheat and Ruin Hills, and one from the prison valley to the south-west. Along the coast the drive—if it could now be called a drive here—was made by the dog-tired remnants of the Assault Regiment, which halted roughly on the line C and D Companies of 18 Battalion had occupied in the morning.

The critical point was Galatas. There seemed a very real danger that the Germans were coming on. The New Zealanders' reaction was firm and decisive.

Two light British tanks came out of Galatas with a report that it was full of Germans, and they offered to go back if they were given a machine-gunner and a driver to replace casualties. These were supplied by the New Zealanders, and under the orders of Colonel Kippenberger, two companies of 23 Battalion, parties of 18 and 20 Battalions and men from other units formed up for a counter-attack. As the light faded and flares began to sprout up from Galatas, the line moved forward, and in a hectic twenty minutes' fight swept through the village. Whether or not the attack achieved what was intended, it certainly left the Germans in a more sober and cautious mood and prompted a request from 100 Mountain Regiment that the next forward movement should not begin until about 3 p.m. as Galatas was not completely clear.

The New Zealand units were now very much the worse for wear. The battalions of 4 Brigade were depleted and, except for 19 Battalion, split into separate detachments. Most of 5 Brigade had been out of the line for a few hours but got little rest, and three battalions, 21, 22 and 23, were whittled down to weary survivors; only 28 (Maori) Battalion and the Engineer Detachment had escaped heavy losses. Composite Battalion was out of the running, and Divisional Cavalry joined 21 Battalion on 26 May. Apart from Divisional Cavalry, few of these amateur infantrymen took any further organised part in the fighting.

The new defence line extended from 7 British General Hospital to the right of 19 Australian Brigade. The 21st Battalion was to be on the right, 19 Battalion, the strongest of the 4 Brigade battalions, in the centre, and 28 Battalion on the left.

When Boyce and his men fell back, they were placed in a position beyond the area where Hook's company had first camped. Hook's company was close by but still inactive. Throughout the day the men of No. 1 Echelon group had listened to the sound of enemy mortaring and machine-gunning coming closer. A patrol was sent out to contact the Marines, who were supposed to be on the group's left flank. They had vanished, leaving the flank open. So, while the battle drew closer, the company sat and waited.

Boyce's wounded joined the interminable queue at the crowded dressing station near Canea; Rawle and his wounded went back to an RAP for dressings. On his return he found that Boyce and Hook, acting on instructions, had moved further to the rear. His plight was shared by other wounded of Supply Column who were still awaiting attention when their unit moved.

The order to Boyce, which came from Force Headquarters about midnight, was to move to an assembly point south of Suda Bay. As the group moved through the darkness, desultory shots were heard from the coast, and fears were entertained for the safety of the wounded still at Canea. Men from the dressing station overtook the Column next day, weaving their way en route through the Luftwaffe's bombing of the groves between Galatas and Canea. When the trek across the island to Sfakia began, however, the Column was still split up, and in its various parts joined the rag-tag and bob-tail migration over Crete.

The move to Sfakia on the south coast of Crete began on the night of 26–27 May in all the confusion implied by the situation. To begin with, Composite Battalion, although largely reassembled, was lost as far as 4 Brigade Headquarters was concerned. Split up to suit the requirements of the fighting on 25 May, the battalion had been unable to reform immediately on withdrawal, and the groups did whatever the various officers who were doing their best to control troop movements told them to do—or they did what seemed best. There was, however, a general trend towards the transit camp, and during 26 May most of the detachments arrived there. By the end of that morning most of the battalion's survivors had assembled, but there were odd groups, among them Supply Column men, who were still wandering, and there were others who had attached themselves to 19 and 21 Battalions, which were in the line fighting

Colonel Kippenberger spent some hours during that day trying to find Composite Battalion, without success. During the afternoon he was placed in command of 4 Brigade when Brigadier Inglis

Maj-Gen L. M. Inglis, CB, CBE, DSO and bar, MC, m.i.d., MC (Greek); Palmerston North; born Mosgiel, 16 May 1894; barrister and solicitor; NZ Rifle Bde and MG Bn 1915–19; CO 27 (MG) Bn Jan-Aug 1940; comd 4 Inf Bde 1941–42 and 4 Armd Bde 1942–44; comd 2 NZ Div 27 Jun-16 Aug 1942 and 6 Jun-31 Jul 1943; Chief Judge of the Control Commission Supreme Court in British Zone of Occupation, Germany, 1947–50; Stipendiary Magistrate.

was instructed by Force Headquarters to take over a new brigade of British troops. About midday Colonel Gray and Major Lewis reported to him, and Lewis said he thought he knew where most of the battalion was. Colonel Kippenberger instructed him to assemble the unit at what appeared to be a monastery, which he could see between Canea and Suda Bay. Lewis went away and did not return. Runners who were sent to the monastery by Kippenberger about mid-afternoon reported that they could find no one there.

The 18th Battalion and Composite Battalion, in fact, instead of going to the monastery were moving eastwards on orders from Divisional Headquarters, confirmed en route by General Freyberg.

Feeling, perhaps, that the defence against them was cracking, the Germans chose this day to launch the heaviest air assault of the campaign, inflicting greater casualties among the New Zealanders than on any other day. And the base troops from Suda, poorly disciplined and panicstricken, chose this day to flood onto the roads. In this chaotic situation, Colonel Gray was able to hold together a core of 18 Battalion, but Composite Battalion had little chance of retaining cohesion and broke up. The morale of the Composite Battalion men, however, was by no means broken.

The plan now was to use Sfakia as an embarkation point, but the men, and indeed many officers, at first had no idea what was going on. A clue had been given the previous day, however, when General Freyberg sent trucks to explore the possibility of using Sfakia for evacuation. Base troops correctly guessed the meaning of this movement, and like water in a porous pot the story seeped out. This was the most some people ever knew—and there were some who were trying to lead men who did not even know this much.

‘Information was difficult to obtain; no one seemed to have any knowledge of our ultimate destination,’ said Second-Lieutenant Hastie describing the withdrawal of Hook's group. ‘It was simply a case of the blind leading the blind.’

‘The lack of orders and communications was astounding,’ wrote Captain Jacobs in a report on 15 June after his return to Egypt. ‘Actually I was shown by ADMS Suda Area the force order for evacuation, but that was just luck, and I have not met any NZASC personnel since who saw it.’

Looking back on it, the absence of orders and communications would hardly appear astounding, but the fact that they seemed so at the time—or at any rate, immediately afterwards—is an indication that morale was high enough to expect such everyday amenities.

So while 4 and 5 Brigades and 19 Australian Brigade fell back, a procession that must be one of the most oddly assorted of any retreat in the war was set in motion over 35 miles of winding mountain roads and tracks. Along with the New Zealanders jostled Greek civilians with donkey carts, Greek troops, Cretan peasants, Royal Marines, Commandos, Australians, RAF men and Cypriots. Among the mob were observed three women in battle dress. The straggling column wound up through a burning village, round spurs and into valleys of the White Mountains, through the Asifou Plain and down the far side towards Sfakia.

Most or all of the Supply Column men seem to have joined the trek on the first night. This includes the men of the DID, who on this night got themselves awheel and drove into the mountains. But they were not just fleeing pell-mell. They still had a job to do, and they did it.

They had been doing it, in fact, right through the campaign, though not entirely with success. Crete is not a campaign supply men would care to hold up as a model of supply operations, but it is a campaign from which lessons can be drawn. From all the difficulties of the situation, two stand out as primary factors in preventing the efficient distribution of food: lack of information and lack of suitable rations.

In the circumstances lack of information was understandable, but it immensely complicated the work of delivering rations, particularly under cover of night. Supply Column was the only organisation that could give the troops the food they needed to keep them going, yet it was not kept informed of new locations of units when they were shuffled about. Supply Column men did their best, but ‘Men to whose units I delivered rations say they never received them, yet I took them to where I was instructed,’ reported Corporal Palairet.

Cpl A. F. G. Palairet; Tolaga Bay; born Gisborne, 17 Jun 1910; bank clerk; p.w. 1 Jun 1941.

Some men went almost a week without food.

The type of ration that would have been of immense value on Crete was a compact battle ration, similar to the American type seen later in the war. Rations involving cooking on a fire or in an oven were useless in these conditions, and their bulk was an embarrassment. Packaged rations would have enabled units to carry several days' food without much inconvenience.

To add to the supply troubles, 4 Brigade lost its supply officer, Jacobs. The brigade moved on the night of 25–26 May while he was absent, and like others who were anxious to track it down, he was unable to find it. He joined up the next day with the DID.

In general the supply position was about as difficult as it could be. In the first bombing raid an attached driver, Derrett,

Dvr L. A. Derrett; born NZ 10 Dec 1907; sheep farmer; killed in action 26 May 1941.

was killed. As the stick of bombs fell straight through the depot, a bomb skidded along the ground. Derrett, sheltering behind a tree, stood up apparently to have a closer look; at that instant the bomb exploded.

Later, overs from the Galatas battle came zipping through the DID. In the circumstances serving the odd men who came along during the day looking for rations became a grim game of running the gauntlet—and during the last days there was a flood of hungry men in search of food. Dashing across the open from dump to dump, Supply Column men frequently risked their lives to serve these men. Corporals McAra

Cpl D. T. G. McAra; Queenstown; born Invercargill, 8 Mar 1915; grocer; p.w. 1 Jun 1941.

and Rutherford,

Cpl D. W. Rutherford; Timaru; born Timaru, 26 Nov 1913; grocer; p.w. 17 Jun 1941.

particularly, showed courage in carrying out their work.

There were narrow escapes but only the one fatality. McIndoe was talking to a unit quartermaster one day when a bullet snicked between them and half tore away the patch pocket on the QM's pants. On another occasion a bomb burst right beside a slit trench where five New Zealanders who had come for rations were sheltering. They emerged, yellow with dust but unhurt.

One bright spot in the tedious and often hectic daylight hours was provided by Captain Butterfield, who was to be seen brewing up and taking tea around to men in the midst of air raids.

At 5 p.m. on 26 May, Major Davis

Lt-Col F. L. H. Davis, m.i.d.; Burnham MC; born Feilding, 23 Jan 1909; Regular soldier; CO 29 Bn 3 NZ Div 1943–44; wounded, Italy, 15 Apr 1945.

of Divisional Headquarters came to the DID with orders to load five trucks with rations in preparation for a move to a rest area east of Suda Bay. As the trucks were pulling out six hours later an SOS was received from 28 Battalion for a truck to carry its wounded, so one was sent down the prison road, where the Maoris had been fighting at the southern end of the New Zealand line.

The other trucks went on, and while bypassing Canea by a back road, the leading vehicle bogged down in a water-filled bomb crater. The second truck dragged it backwards, and the hole was filled sufficiently to allow the vehicles to pass. Following up later, the detached truck with 28 Battalion wounded ran foul of the same crater and was unable to get out. Both wounded and rations were lost to the enemy. The driver later turned up at Sfakia.

The 27th May was spent by the junction of the SudaRetimo-Sfakia roads. That night, with weary troops clinging all over the trucks like flies, they drove on southwards to a village half-way to Sfakia; trucks were dispersed, and the men took to the hills. On returning they found that most of the rations had been taken by 4 Brigade and other fighting troops in the area. After serving walking wounded, the Supply Column men issued the remaining rations to anyone who was hungry. The trucks were driven on to the end of the road, where orders were received to scrap them.

This DID group was the last of Supply Column to hang together in a disciplined organisation. Padding across the island on weary feet, the rest of the Supply Column men were just part of the mob. Air attacks broke up groups, and the less swift were left behind. A graphic picture of what happened is given by Farley. Writing of 27 May, he relates how German planes probed about for the concealed, resting men. Farley himself spent most of the raid skipping from one side of a stone wall to the other, depending on the direction from which the planes were approaching. A friend was clinging to an endless chain of buckets down a well, and other men nearby were crouching beneath a bridge, oblivious to the water swirling around them.

While the strafing was at its height, a racket of bullets, mortars and shells exploding had started up about a quarter of a mile away. It sounded as though the two sides were having a set to. Even the sky was obscured, and my first thought was that parachutists had been dropped to cut off our retreat…. I saw a column of smoke drifting overhead, then smelt burning rubber. This was merely a lorry load of ammo set on fire.

Impatient to be moving, the men were crowding onto the road long before dark—dusk was 8 p.m.—and the faster walkers were pushing past the slower and more tired.

In the centre of the village there was a divergence of roads (Farley continues). An order had been passed back that no troops were to pass through the village until eight o'clock, with the result that between the bridge and the crossroads—about quarter of a mile—there was a good gathering of soldiers. If an enemy plane was seen, the warning, ‘Aircraft!’ was to be given by word of mouth or by the blowing of a whistle. Nerves were at a high pitch, and suddenly someone cried ‘Aircraft!’ and there was an immediate panic. The first into cover yelled for the rest to stand still but their cries were not heeded until all had found some sort of concealment.

No plane came, but this hysterical scatter served a good purpose by dispersing the crowded men. They were back on the road before time, however.

On entering the village we found an officer had taken up point duty and was directing, or trying to direct, the men. Apparently New Zealanders and Australians were to go one road, and English units another, but he had a hopeless task. Everyone was asking questions at the same time and arguing the point among themselves about which was the right way, while others carried on regardless of the officer's instructions. The officer threw up his hands in despair and guided only those who would listen to him.

While Farley was trying to hear above the babble of noise what the officer was saying, a Supply Column officer came along and got his instructions. Farley followed him,…but the pace became too hot for me and for many others, so we gradually dropped back to make our own pace. Many of us were beginning to look sorry sights. It was five days since I had had a shave, my trousers had given in the seam and were open from the calf to half way up the thigh on the inner side, and the boots of some men were falling apart.

Every now and then we had to get off the road and let motor traffic through. These were mainly lorries carrying wounded who were unable to walk; wounded who could walk had to do so. The trucks were full to overflowing, for when drivers had to slow down near groups of men they seized the opportunity to clamber aboard until the trucks would hold no more.

The footsore march went on. At each rest there was an almost overpowering desire to fall down and sleep. At last ‘breasting the top of a hill we could see a bright fire burning. The route took us closer until we entered a village. Everywhere were signs of bombing, and the fire we had seen was one of the largest buildings burning. By this time it was a smouldering shell.’ Beyond the village a parachute flare glowed and glared down, and everyone froze until it had burned out.

Water bottles were getting low. At some wells there were orderly queues, but at others

…each in his turn cursed and chafed at the delay, to say nothing of the jostling and pushing that was done. Animosity towards different countries sprang up. The New Zealanders cursed the Englishmen, the Englishmen cursed the New Zealanders, and the combined efforts of both were directed towards the Cypriots and Greeks, who were in a minority but who were much to the fore in undisciplinary actions. God knows, our discipline left a lot to be desired, most of us acting like starving wolves. The Cypriots had no idea of taking their turn, but just pushed in and to hell with the rest.

Next day Farley and his companions grew tired of the delay involved in hiding from aircraft, which on this day seemed to be quiet, and they went on.

It was our first chance to look around as we travelled. What a trail! There was discarded gear everywhere: clips of cartridges, loose rounds, web gear, broken and dismantled rifles, cases of rifle ammo, photos, letters, overcoats and lord knows what. Now and then we passed an army truck which had been run off the road and over the bank.

After a hot, dusty climb the men came in sight of the Askifou Plain, a basin less than a mile across in the mountains. ‘Below us lay a pretty, fertile basin, as green as an oasis. It was surrounded by rocky hills, with the road winding its way to the bottom, skirting the western edge and then disappearing away to the south…. The basin was a parched man's paradise, for there were wells everywhere.’

At 8 p.m. that day Farley and his friends reached a control point and, like thousands of others, became ‘organised’ for the final leg of the journey.

The road to Sfakia came to an end on the brink of a 500-foot high escarpment, and from this point the beach was reached by a goat track. The beach was too small for assembly, and the climb from the beach to the road took two hours. The complications this added to an already difficult evacuation were enormous, and to check confusion a rigid control system filtered the men approaching the port.

The policy was to take off organised groups first and give detached groups and individuals second preference—which in practice meant that many of them stayed on the island. This was a bitter blow at the end of a bitter campaign. These scattered groups of gunners and drivers had done their share of fighting and had earned qualification for inclusion among the fighting troops. The priorities, fixed by Force Headquarters, did them an unwitting injustice. The overriding need was to preserve the main fighting units intact and thus save the force from destruction. In the case of New Zealand Division the loss of, say, a brigade would have been a major disaster.

But though quite convincing as a theory, in practice the evacuation of troops worked out rather differently. The policy so restricted movement to the beach that boats had to put out with room to spare. On the first night, when all priorities had been fulfilled, the Navy was appealing for, ‘Anyone else?’ and in the end had to leave with partly filled ships.

However, the wanderers and stragglers were not entirely ignored. In the hills groups of fifty or so were organised and placed under the charge of officers, and in this way Supply Column men, though not belonging to any major formation, were taken off the first night (28–29 May) and the following night.

Control officers had no easy task. They were to organise into orderly groups hundreds of men who all wanted to be first. Here again Farley gives a vivid picture:

When evening approached there was a general movement for the road. This time we were put into batches of 50 and sent on. About a mile further in we came to a large U-shaped turn. Here were accumulated hundreds of soldiers; they covered the sides and bottom of the gully that ran into the bottom of the U, and the roadway itself was one hell of a mix-up of soldiers trying to get or be put into some sort of organisation by a very exasperated senior officer.

The trouble was that every man wanted to be first away as this was supposed to be the last stage to the boat, and nobody wanted to miss the first night off. The result was that when a call was made for 50 men, 200 tried to get in. Finally the officer drew his revolver and threatened to shoot any man trying to create panic and disobeying orders.

….At last we were heading for the boat. The road was now on a down grade, and the going was much easier as we were on a bitumen surface in the cool of late evening. Numerous vehicles passed us, travelling the opposite way. We made a halt on a large bend. The party ahead could be heard right below us, and we could hear the roar of several trucks working uphill in low gear. Apparently some vehicle was in trouble, for the sound of engines finally died out, and voices and the sound of tinkering with vehicles could be heard below us. Half an hour passed, then an hour. Two hours went by. This was past being a good thing and we were growing restless at the long delay. It must have been two and a half hours before we got going again. After marching a bit we came to what was evidently the cause of the delay. The road ended abruptly. It appears that the engineers had been extending the road down the hill and had been interrupted in their task before its completion. From here on was a mere donkey track, and the narrowing of the route meant a straggling out of the men. It also seems that most men were not sure of the way.

While these troops were scrambling as fast as they could to safety, others were making a fighting withdrawal across the island. Originally it had been planned to keep Suda open by relieving 5 Brigade with a newly formed British brigade, consisting of 1 Welch, 1 Rangers and Northumberland Hussars, which was to be commanded by Brigadier Inglis. On the night this was supposed to happen (26–27 May) a criss-cross of messages and orders prevented coordination of the move, and as the New Zealanders and Australians stepped back, the new brigade stepped forward into the enemy's arms.

Fifth Brigade, with 19 Battalion, A Company 20 Battalion, the Divisional Cavalry detachment, and 7 Field Company under command, took a new line across 42nd Street, with the Australians to the north. A bayonet charge here sent the enemy back a mile and a half. There was serious danger, however, from a strong force making an outflanking move with mule trains to the south.

That night, the 27th–28th, 5 Brigade and 19 Australian Brigade moved back to Stilos, then withdrew back through a battalion of Layforce—a Commando formation which had only recently arrived in Crete. The 2/8 Australian Battalion and some members of 5 Brigade Headquarters made a stand later that day at Babali Hani. On this same day 4 Brigade was perched in positions up on the Askifou Plain to guard against parachute landings.

On 29 May the main force was clustered in the Askifou Plain. That night 4 Brigade moved down towards the beach; 5 Brigade was already in the lying-up area. While 5 Brigade waited its turn, 4 Brigade was taken off on the night of 30–31 May.

On this night Supply Column performed its final service on Crete. The only food dump from which troops could be supplied was a depot of sorts at the beach itself, a most unsatisfactory location as everything taken back to the troops had to be manhandled up the winding track.

Captain Jacobs first became aware of this depot when he met Lieutenant Hastie early on the morning of 30 May. The food, which included tinned meat and biscuits in quantity, was stored in an old warehouse, part single and part two-storied, near the landing. The Australian depot keepers, about three of them, had had no orders for a week.

Jacobs told Colonel Gray about the dump and was told to collect volunteers to carry back whatever could be sent to the rearguard troops. No particular unit was specified, and Jacobs assumed Gray meant 5 Brigade, but 19 Australian Brigade was also in the line suffering from a shortage of rations and water.

The Australians willingly surrendered their dump to Jacobs, who set about organising the most primitive transport service in Supply Column's history. At midnight a volunteer party of Australians and men from Force Headquarters paraded; they had nothing to carry rations in, so stuffed their shirts full, leaving their hands free for climbing. But few of them had the strength left to complete the journey up the track—and some men went straight off to the cave area with their loads. Of 1400 tins of meat taken away that night, only 400 reached the troops in the line above Sfakia.

On 31 May some 10,000 troops still awaited evacuation, Supply Column men among them; those Supply Column men who escaped from Crete seem to have got away on the first two nights in organised parties. Those now remaining were mainly stragglers.

The Navy could not do a great deal more, and on the night of 31 May-1 June ships came in for the last lift. They reached Sfakia soon after midnight, and when they pulled out again at 3 a.m. on 1 June there were 4000 men on board, mainly 5 Brigade and the rest of 4 Brigade. They were watched from the beach by the forlorn remnants. About an hour later those on the beach were told to surrender and hoist the white flag as a sign that arms had been laid down. Others who had been further back from the beach when the last boat pulled away merely heard, ‘No more for tonight.’ Later they heard the bitter news, ‘We are capitulating. The boats are not coming back.’

CHAPTER 7 Advance into Libya

LONG trains, piping shrilly and jolting along with the unpredictable whim of the Egyptian railways, roared south from Alexandria in the closing days of May and early days of June 1941. Tired men lolled in their seats and watched the familiar yellow and green of the Delta flow by. The New Zealand Division, or what was left of it, was back from Greece and Crete and very ready to acknowledge—for the time being—Egypt as home.

For the men there were days of relaxation ahead; comfortable days on the Mediterranean shore and in Cairo bars. For the headquarters staffs there was a heartbreaking totting up of casualties and a complex sorting out of reinforcements. For the more seriously wounded there was the hospital ship Maunganui to take them home—right home.

The ASC normally suffers light casualties, but in Crete almost everyone was a front-line soldier, and now the ASC was short of 1100 men. Supply Column itself could account for little more than half of its strength, and less than half had returned to Egypt fit and ready to carry on. By 4 June the Column could compile a roll of nine officers and 196 other ranks who were classified as ‘in Egypt’. In addition there were fifty-one other ranks in the ‘X’ lists.

‘X’ lists: men posted to a headquarters or extra-regimental unit; men evacuated to hospital; prisoners of war and men serving detention or imprisonment; unposted reinforcements.

One officer and seven other ranks were known to be dead. But some-where on the other side of the Mediterranean were six officers and 210 other ranks ‘not accounted for’.

Fifth Reinforcement quotas, calculated before these losses were incurred, were hopelessly inadequate for the ASC, and after absorbing 580 of its own reinforcements the corps was still looking around for more. Volunteers were called for from other arms, and as a last resort men were compulsorily transferred. Even then there was a shortage of skilled trades- mentradesmen. The 6th Reinforcements, which reached Tewfik on 29 July, brought a meagre 249 men for the ASC in a total strength of 3808.

With the exception of 6 Brigade, which went to the Canal to set up a defence scheme at Moascar and Ismailia, the Division camped at Helwan while it built up its strength and gathered in new equipment. Still without trucks, the ASC, Supply Column included, had to put in the earlier days unhappily tramping the desert and filling in time with drill. To overcome the transport problem, trucks were pooled and 2 Armoured Division Troops Company RASC lent a hand with trucks and drivers.

Ships were already on their way up from the Cape, however, with brand-new American vehicles, and as these arrived the ASC regained its mobility. In Supply Column both new and old hands had much to learn. These new four-wheel-drive three-tonners had to be mastered, and before the Column could be ready to play its part again there was plenty to be done. As the weeks went by the men learned not only to drive in good and bad going, but to unditch, make good mechanical faults, carry out repairs, and generally keep their trucks on the move.

Though the men were not to know it, there was a desert campaign ahead, and all this training was to have an important bearing in giving the ‘service’ part of the ASC some significance. For ‘soft-skinned’ transport mobility is the only defence, and in the highly mobile campaign ahead of them ability to keep their vehicles moving, and when they broke down to get them rolling again as quickly as possible, was sometimes to mean the difference between a successful operation and the loss to the enemy of supplies, men, and, more important, trucks. If there is a suggestion of callousness in placing trucks before men, war has a habit of switching values. In the jargon of a ‘Confucius Say’ sign that appeared later in Tunisia, ‘Easy get new driver, difficult get new truck’.

So there were manoeuvres, exercises and general training programmes. The working part of Supply Column's activities was mainly the old general carrier role. Being close to a DID and base transport services, the Division did not use to full capacity its ASC vehicles, and Supply Column was called on to do a variety of jobs. A supply point was operated for 5 Brigade, which was digging defences at Alamein.

While the New Zealanders were fighting, resting and training, the world about them had been changing. On 22 June the Germans on the Continent turned east in a gigantic attack on Russia. In the Middle East the British and Australians had made Syria secure, but in Libya the arrival of General Rommel with German troops had completely changed the scene, and General Wavell's brilliant gains were swallowed up as the enemy surged forward again to the Egyptian frontier. Tobruk, the relief of which was to be one of the chief objectives of the New Zealanders' next action, was held against heavy German attacks and remained as an embarrassing thorn in the side of the enemy forces.

While over the weeks the various units developed their training, Supply Column took its trucks along the roads and out into the desert on full-scale exercises designed to give the men some idea of what went on when the unit became mobile. The results are reflected in a comment in a convoy report late in September: ‘Standard of driving by our drivers was uniformly high…. Driving in desert formation was of high standard.’

In September New Zealand Division went back to the desert. The brigades settled into a troglodyte existence in the Baggush Box, and with the rest of the ASC the Supply Column established itself at Fuka.

The journey back to the desert was full of interest, particularly for the old hands who had come this way so often in 1940. Where there had been open desert there were now army camps and airfields on which trim fighters and broad-winged bombers were to be seen. To men accustomed to a hostile sky, the air seemed almost crowded with friendly planes.

Of passing interest is the fact that the Column took from dawn to dusk to travel from Helwan to Amiriya. Nine months later, when the Division came down from Syria in very much of a hurry, the Column travelled from Suez to Amiriya, double the distance, in the same time.

A freedom-loving soldier, the New Zealander was always glad to get away from base where, it seemed to him, senior officers, for lack of something better to do, were apt to pester him with too much ‘soldierliness’. It is a natural line of logic that the greater the opportunity to break away from this, the greater will be the transgressions, and Supply Column found a mobile life eminently suited to exploitation along these lines. Free of the restraints of an official frown, the men would strip off their shirts, boots and socks and enjoy the comfort of old clothing or practically none. Once away from Helwan on this particular journey back to the desert, they were not slow to dispense with their clothing. Major Pryde, who had left the camp at Helwan last to ensure that everything was left as it should be, found when he overtook the convoy that his men had already stripped for comfort. At Amiriya that night he told them just what he thought of the ‘circus procession’ they had staged through Cairo, and with some force complained that the men were even wearing ‘bloody football jerseys’. By a curious chance, the ‘bloody football jerseys’ caught on and echoed through the unit for years and is still heard at unit reunions.

But the men were not as free as they expected to be. Though Fuka was in the desert, there was still too much of the restrictive air of a base camp for the men to be altogether happy. An understandable nervousness over enemy aircraft—memories of Greece and Crete were still fresh—was reflected in various orders, and to make things worse, after there had been several drownings, even swimming became implicated in sternly worded ‘thou shalt nots’. The result was a curious eagerness to carry sea water needed by the cooks to lay the dust around the cookhouse.

There was justification for precautions against the trouble from the air, however. Fuka station and airfield were not far away and enemy aircraft gave their attention to both. Incendiaries intended for the aerodrome on one occasion fell in the Column area. Fuka station went up in spectacular pyrotechnics when an ammunition train was hit, and the railhead was temporarily shifted back to Daba.

Supply Column was engaged in many jobs, but its primary task was to build up No. 2 Forward Base at Bir el Thalata, a dump of ammunition, petrol and supplies that formed part of over 33,000 tons stocked up in the forward areas for the coming attack. Loaded trucks went forward from Fuka in the afternoon and laagered a few miles from the dump, which was in view of the enemy, until dark. Then they moved forward again and unloaded. As the trucks turned away home, an Indian labour corps pulled across the camouflage and smeared away the wheel tracks.

In this work Supply Column saw something of the shocking waste of petrol that was the result of the use of the four-gallon petrol can, commonly known as the ‘flimsy’. And flimsy it was. As an expendable item, it served a good purpose in less rigorous civilian life, but in the Army its expendability began the moment it was moved, and all sorts of calculations have been made about the percentage of petrol that survived the long jolting journey into the desert by the Egyptian State Railways and ASC trucks. The flimsy even inspired a cartoon by Brian Robb, who in his series ‘Little Known Units of the Western Desert’, drew a three-tonner packed with flimsies and leaking a small Niagara of petrol through the tailboard. Its title: ‘Vehicle of the Petrol Dispersal Column’.

There was also the customary job of supplying the Division to be done; in fact, the point at Sidi Haneish fed not only the Division but British and South African troops and the RAF as well. Supply details opened shop here on 17 September in a depot about the size of a tennis court and ankle deep in dust. While British fighters and bombers roared low overhead they unloaded their equipment and got down to business. Supplies were drawn from 18 DID at the railhead twelve miles away. Dust and heat, and winds carrying both, made conditions unpleasant, particularly when it came to handling fresh meat and vegetables. Dull routine was occasionally broken by air raids on the nearby railway station, and on one occasion—on 14 October—the OC supply details, Captain Quirk, received an unwelcome souvenir, an unexploded bomb placed on his table. He called in the engineers to remove it.

The following day a Supply Column man had an even more hair-raising experience when, while testing Captain Roberts's

Maj L. W. Roberts, MBE, ED, m.i.d.; Auckland; born Wellington, 4 Sep 1911; clerk; OC 2 Amn Coy 1943, 1 Sup Coy 3 Oct 1945-18 Jan 1946; Regular soldier.

car, he collided with a Hurricane making a forced landing. The Hurricane sheared away the radiator and hood, and made a good landing on one wheel. The driver and a passenger in the car were unhurt.

By November the Division was ready and there were signs that something was in the wind. Supply Column received more three-tonners to bring its transport up to establishment, and a number of anti-aircraft trucks—mounting ineffectual Bren guns—were assigned to it. Trucks were loaded up. Although the intention may have been reasonably obvious, the Division's movements were concealed behind a pretence of manœuvres. On 10 November a Supply Column operation order said: ‘The NZ Div Sup Coln is carrying out supply of NZ Div during exercises No. 4.’

Pryde called a conference of officers on this day. Afterwards, he called Roberts aside and told him that during the ‘exercise’ the Division might undertake manœuvres as brigade groups. If this happened brigade composite companies would be formed, and the first would include a part of each of Supply, Petrol and Ammunition Companies under Roberts's command.

The happy thought of taking his echelon, No. 2, away from the Column in a detached role brought a smile to Roberts's face, and Pryde looked stern.

‘And listen, laddie,’ he added, ‘I'm not fooling.’

Roberts soon found that he wasn't.

Out from the hillocks and wadis of the Baggush Box streamed an unending line of vehicles. One by one they jolted on to the coastal highway, a black strip of bitumen across the dusty yellow desert, and turned west. First came the trucks of Headquarters 5 Brigade, and after them the hump-backed quads and guns of 5 Field Regiment, then the anti-tank portées and the long-barrelled Bofors. After these came trucks, miles of trucks, crowded with sappers and infantrymen of four battalions—21, 22, 23 and 28. A company of machine-gunners followed, and then an assortment of ASC units, 5 Field Ambulance, and at the tail, Supply Column (less four sections), which had driven up from Fuka during the morning.

The date was 11 November 1941, and the first part of the New Zealand Division was moving out for its first full-scale offensive action in a campaign with the code-name Crusader. At the Baggush turn-off New Zealand's High Commissioner in the United Kingdom, Mr. W. J. Jordan, a short, stocky figure in a grey suit, stood by the road and waved his black Homburg to the passing column.

Also on the ground to watch the spectacle was Major Pryde, who stood with Brigadier Hargest at a check point near Mersa Matruh. Pryde had reached this day with a feeling of complete confidence in the ability of the Column to carry out its task. Unlike the Supply Column that had gone to Greece, which had been thrown together barely hours before sailing, the unit now had been training as a team for months and was ready for the future. With justifiable pride Major Pryde watched his vehicles go by with almost perfect spacing, and with satisfaction listened to Brigadier Hargest's compliment.

To the bystander a passing convoy is an impressive spectacle: the slow-moving, winding line of vehicles and guns seems to glide forward with the inexorable power and weight of a battleship. But for the men, seeing little else beyond the road sliding away from the tailboard and under the nose of the next truck in line, there is little romance to relieve the tedious, crowded, uncomfortable hours on a whining three-tonner. In any case, the Army inures the most romantic soul to anything calculated to stir the emotions.

‘It was,’ a Supply Column man recalls, ‘like lining up for another job. I remember it took a long time to get started as there was so much traffic on the road.’

Column Headquarters, A, C, E, G and J Sections followed 5 Brigade group out on this day. At Matruh A and E Sections broke away and made off to Smugglers' Cove, where they would be in a handy position to draw from No. 1 Forward Base on the morning of 12 November.

The rest of the convoy turned down the Siwa Road and halted at Sidi Husein, 17 miles south-west of Matruh. During the move the Column broke bulk and issued 6700 rations. The headquarters of No. 1 Echelon and B and F Sections left Fuka next day, joined 4 Infantry Brigade group at Baggush, and drove forward with that formation to the divisional assembly area. Finally, the headquarters of No. 2 Echelon and D and H Sections joined 6 Infantry Brigade group on 13 November at Baggush and the whole group moved up the same day, thereby completing the Division's assembly in the new area.

Crusader was different from any previous campaign. True, the British had been this way before, but this time the principal enemy, in strength if not in numbers, was the German armoured group. And this was Eighth Army's first battle, and its aim was a resounding victory.

Across the Libyan border were 100,000 enemy troops—one third German and two thirds Italian—equipped with 357 tanks, of which 227 were German. Eighth Army was 118,000 strong and had more than 800 tanks, of which 500 were cruisers and 273 infantry tanks. General Cunningham's first aim was to destroy the German tank forces. The main attack was to be made by 30 Corps, under Lieutenant-General Willoughby Norrie. Thirteenth Corps, commanded by Lieutenant-General Godwin-Austen, was in the first place to contain the enemy troops holding the frontier positions. New Zealand Division was part of 13 Corps.

German and Italian positional troops manned the frontier posts and contained Tobruk. Two German and two Italian divisions were preparing to attack Tobruk and a German and an Italian armoured division, together with an Italian motorised division, formed a mobile force to meet any British threat.

In the desert south of Matruh the New Zealand Division prepared for its part. During 12 and 13 November the Division grew to full strength, and Supply Column began to learn what it was like catering for a full division in the field. On the 13th it broke bulk for the whole Division twice—35,000 rations—and next day issued hard rations. On the 15th the whole Division moved forward in daylight to Bir el Thalata, 55 miles to the west. There were vehicles as far as the eye could see, almost 3000 of them on a six-mile front, each with its trailing cloud of dust, rolling across broken, stony ground.

That night and all next day the Division remained stationary, but forty Supply Column vehicles went back to 29 FSD to draw four days' rations—74,000. There was a hitch at the depot; delivery was refused, and No. 2 Forward Base confirmed that issues would not be made here as the dump was being held until the battle commenced. After a tussle with colonels and majors, Quirk secured permission to draw, and at last, at 2.15 p.m., loading began. The dump was 15 miles square, and consequently the task was a long one, and as vehicles were feverishly loaded an anxious eye was kept on the time. It was 8.15 p.m. before the convoy pulled out, and the Division was already on its way west again. Despite a clear, starry sky, it was pitch black, and without the aid of a compass the convoy moved north until it found the green lights marking the divisional axis. During the march a solitary bomb burst about half a mile away, though no plane could be seen. The Division was overtaken in the early hours of the morning.

On 16–17 November was the first night move of the Division towards the frontier. By day vehicles were checked and repaired, and Supply Column went about its duties. At night the only lights were the track markers; the going was rough, the sand sometimes soft, and inevitably there was some confusion—‘Wrong guff, wrong areas, muck ups from HQ.’ It was tense and tiring, and it was shown quite clearly that the vital thing was to keep drivers awake so that not only they but the following vehicles should not be lost. There was a strong temptation to find solace in the forbidden cigarette. When Sergeant-Major Beer,

WO II T. A. Beer; Spreydon; born London, 22 Sep 1902, transport driver.

a former Imperial Army man, found a Supply Column man smoking he bawled him out in a proper manner. A few minutes later the Sergeant-Major was back.

‘You still got that cigarette going?’

‘Er, yes.’

‘Give me a light, will you.’

The night marches showed, too, that Workshops could depend on plenty of work after movement in darkness. Springs were broken, radiators stove in as drivers, unable to see what was happening ahead, charged halting vehicles, and differentials were dragged out of position when vehicles crashed through slit trenches. On movements such as this workshops men travelled all night then worked all day repairing the night's damage.

The breakdown truck itself—‘Flannagan II’, a Chevrolet, driven by Driver Hyland, with Sergeant Goulden

Capt D. H. Goulden, m.i.d.; born Southbridge, 15 Dec 1917; motor mechanic.

in charge—was detached on the first night. On 19 November it overtook two three-tonners that had collided and become immobilised. One truck was got working and the other was towed, the vehicles joining up with the Column on the 21st.

As the Division moved forward on the night of 17–18 November, lightning was flickering in the north-west, and next day gunfire could be heard. At dawn 30 Corps crossed the border and advanced into Libya, meeting no resistance. The enemy was blissfully ignorant that a major attack was pending. The following night the New Zealand Division crossed the border also. Sappers tore out a 300-yard gap in the frontier wire and the vehicles streamed through.

During the 18th the Supply Column issues had given units rations for the 19th and 20th, plus three days' reserves—a contrast with the seven days' reserves that units were to carry a year later. The Column moved forward about 7 p.m. in the cold and starry darkness, with gunfire and bombing rumbling and flashing to the north. On arrival at the new area at El Beida the Column found itself in difficulties; some units in the line of march were out of position, and the Column had to settle down in a temporary area. On the afternoon of the 19th the unit moved to its correct area as Messerschmitts came down on a nearby RAF airfield.

About five came skimming towards Supply Column ‘with a nasty screaming sound’, and as they began to spray the desert the vehicles scattered. The planes did no damage and left to chase a Tomahawk.

Pushing west on 19 November 30 Corps began to beat up trouble. The New Zealanders on the 21st began their encirclement of the frontier positions. While Supply Column remained anchored with the administration group at El Beida, the fighting units pushed north and then fanned out, 5 Brigade to Fort Capuzzo and Sollum Barracks, 4 Brigade to the escarpment west of Bardia, and 6 Brigade westwards along the Trigh Capuzzo to come under command of 30 Corps.

Field Maintenance Centres in November 1941 campaign

Capuzzo fell to 5 Brigade on the 22nd, and 4 Indian Division captured part of the Omar forts, but a substantial pocket held out in Libyan Omar. Wherever the enemy was still holding out in the frontier area, he was cut off from his main forces in the west.

Back at El Beida there was at first little excitement but plenty of hard work. ‘Two uneventful days supplying our troops,’ is how Quirk summarised it. This entailed sending convoys back to 50 FSD

An important innovation for Crusader campaign was a Corps organisation for co-ordinating supply and maintenance of the fighting formations, known as a field maintenance centre. This would contain an FSD, a field ammunition depot, a petrol, oil and lubricants dump, a water point, a prisoner-of-war cage, a field post office, a NAAFI/EFI store (for canteen supplies), and other services, all functioning independently but making economical use of a common labour and transport pool and subject to the headquarters of the FMC for the initial layout of the whole area, the marking of routes and traffic control, local administration, security, and general co-ordination. Each corps had several of these FMCs, those of 13 Corps numbering from 50 upwards and those of 30 Corps numbering from 60 upwards, with the chief components similarly numbered. Thus 50 FMC, just inside Egypt and three miles east of the frontier wire at El Beida, included 50 FSD, 50 FAD, and so on. As it happened this FMC had a NZ headquarters—‘A’ NZ FMC—and the co-ordination was therefore carried out by New Zealanders, although the dumps and services were operated by troops from the United Kingdom. The headquarters of another NZ FMC—‘B’—was at that time waiting at 50 FMC to move forward and set up 51 FMC some 20 miles west of Sidi Omar. Some idea of the enormous size of these installations can be gained from the fact that 50 FMC covered an area of 35 square miles. So wide was the dispersion and so effective the camouflage that a German armoured division later drove through the northern fringe of this area without realising that the supplies and services for the whole British corps lay within its reach.

and sending rations forward to a prearranged supply point. For this short period, at least, the Column was able to work to the book. It was one of the few occasions throughout the war that it did. ‘The book’ was still the system of echelons, in which certain vehicles were earmarked to carry rations for specified units. This was found to be clumsy and uneconomical for transport, and it meant that B echelon transport from the units had to find particular trucks at the supply point.

The rations in this campaign were not good. No ration scale had been discovered for this period, and the nearest battle ration scale, that for some time in 1942, may be slightly more generous. This provides for two ounces of bacon, nine ounces of biscuits, three-quarters of an ounce of cheese, three ounces of jam or marmalade, one ounce of margarine, two ounces of milk, nine ounces of M and V, three-sevenths of an ounce of salmon or herrings, four ounces of sugar, half an ounce of tea and half an ounce of salt each day, and finally 50 cigarettes a week. In the early part of Crusader corned beef was served more often than M and V, there was little bacon, and the salmon was labelled fifth-grade and, even so, rarely reached the fighting units of the New Zealand Division. The main meal of the day was generally bully and biscuits, although extras carried by the cooks' trucks and careful cooking helped make the food more palatable. When a comparison is made with later British ration scales and the current German rations, however, the Army at this stage was poorly catered for.

Orders to move north came to the Column at 1 p.m. on 21 November, while No. 2 Echelon was away at the supply point and No. 1 Echelon on its way back to 50 FSD. Column Headquarters and J Section went on alone and were overtaken by the echelons early in the evening at the new position south of the Trigh el Abd, previously occupied by Divisional Headquarters. Next morning a similar move, this time of 22 miles northwards, was executed to Abiar Nza Ferigh; Column Headquarters, J Section and the attached water section moved on, and Nos. 1 and 2 Echelons finished their tasks and followed up.

The 22-mile trip to Abiar Nza Ferigh taught another lesson. Before setting out a course was set by sun compass, but after the Headquarters convoy had been travelling for an hour or so the sky became overcast—nearer the coast it was raining—and a switch had to be made to navigation by magnetic compass. The change created an error that gave the unit a slight swing to the east, and shells that came droning in on to the right flank showed that it was too near the Omars for comfort.

The convoy sheered away to the north-west for three miles. This threw it across the front of another convoy moving up on its left, and the Column switched to the north again. In heavy rain the vehicles moved on. When the estimated mileage was up, it was found that because of the changes in direction the unit was seven miles too close to Capuzzo—no place to be near on the 22nd—and it moved to its correct area.

Above the harbour of Kea Island

The march across Kea Island

Ay Marina, Crete

The village of Platanias (high on left) from Ay Marina. Maleme is in the right distance. The painting, by J. L. McIndoe, was carried with him when he was taken prisoner.

The airborne invasion

A transport section with new trucks prepared to move from Helwan

Headquarters area near Fuka

That night tracer could be seen cutting through the darkness, and the men went to sleep with the rumble of artillery in their ears.

While the New Zealanders had met with reasonable success at the frontier, further west in the Tobruk area the plan was coming unstuck. The British armour that had set out to smash the German panzers had come off second best, mainly because of superior German tactics, and 7 Support Group was now hard pressed.

Sixth Brigade was promptly ordered by 30 Corps to go to the aid of the support group on the Sidi Rezegh escarpment. The order came to Brigade Headquarters on the afternoon of the 22nd; the brigade travelled all that night and in the morning had a short, sharp and very satisfactory skirmish with an enemy group that was found to be part of Afrika Korps Headquarters. Valuable documents were captured.

The brigade then moved on and 25 Battalion went straight into an attack on Point 175. There was bitter fighting, but with the aid of 24 Battalion about half of the feature was captured and held. Meanwhile 26 Battalion had swung to the south-west to link up with 5 South African Infantry Brigade. This brigade, however, was overrun during the afternoon, and 26 Battalion, after fighting off enemy attacks, rejoined the rest of 6 Brigade that night. The latter brigade settled down under cover of darkness and prepared to meet tanks next day.

Unaware of 6 Brigade's situation, the Division made plans to send it supplies. On the afternoon of 22 November a 6 Brigade Company was formed consisting of C Section of Ammunition Company (Second-Lieutenant Butt

Capt F. G. Butt, m.i.d.; Seddon; born Blenheim, 8 Dec 1913; farmer.

), D and H Sections of Supply Column (Second-Lieutenants Daniel

Capt W. J. Daniel, m.i.d.; Auckland; born England, 15 Aug 1912; accountant; wounded 25 May 1941; p.w. 22 Nov 1941.

and Lyon,

Capt G. W. Lyon, m.i.d.; Wellington; born Foxton, 16 Jan 1915; clerk.

with Second-Lieutenant Demouth

Maj H. J. Demouth, m.i.d.; born Levin, 25 Feb 1919; warehouseman.

as Supply Officer), B Section of Petrol Company (Second-Lieutenant Swarbrick

Capt W. A. Swarbrick; born NZ, 6 Dec 1917; clerk; died 12 May 1951.

) and six vehicles from B Section 4 RMT to carry water. Headquarters of No. 2 Echelon Supply Column also went along, and the commander was Captain Roberts.

The 22nd November was the last day of comparative peace for Supply Column. Further west a hot little cauldron was bubbling to boiling point and was soon to boil over; whoever was abroad on the desert would have to move quickly or be scalded. On 23 November, when 6 Brigade Company began its operations, the pot was already simmering.

At 7 a.m. B Section (Petrol Company) and D Section (Supply Column) were sent off to 62 FMC to load. They were to join 6 Brigade Company at Bir el Chleta, where 6 Brigade Headquarters was thought to be. Two hours later the company itself set off from Abiar Nza Ferigh for Bir el Chleta. At 10.15 a.m. it met two officers also on their way to 6 Brigade Headquarters—Captain Hooper,

Capt D. M. Hooper; Auckland; born Auckland, 22 Aug 1915; manager.

6 Brigade liaison officer, and Captain Squires, who was leading B echelon transport of C Squadron 8 Royal Tanks, attached to 6 Brigade. Hooper warned that enemy tanks were on the Trigh Capuzzo at Gasr el Arid.

Roberts set a course to the west, proposing to turn north at a point west of the reported tank concentration. The convoy had not gone far, however, before enemy armoured fighting vehicles ahead prompted a quick turn around. The AFVs disappeared, and the convoy resumed its journey westwards.

It soon appeared that the desert in these parts was fairly crawling with the enemy. As the trucks swung north about 2 p.m., unidentified AFVs were seen about a mile to the west. They were travelling away to the west and were accompanied by several trucks. And while the New Zealanders were watching and wondering, their trucks ran among the slit trenches and weapon pits of a recently vacated Italian camp. Italian wine bottles and Italian food tins were littered about, and the dying embers of a fire were still smouldering.

The convoy ran north across the almost table-flat desert. Soon after 3.30 p.m., when the Trigh Capuzzo was only five miles away, three armoured cars came in from the east, and to avoid being headed off, Roberts speeded up his convoy. But he had barely escaped from this danger when he encountered a fresh hazard.

Approaching Bir Nza er-Rifi, where the ground falls away to the Trigh Capuzzo, he saw a large concentration of transport spread across the slope on the far side of a wadi. Roberts halted his trucks half a mile to the south and Lyon went forward to see whether the transport was friend or foe. He was not left long in doubt. About fifteen minutes later machine guns began to crackle and long arcs of tracer came darting towards the New Zealand convoy. The fire was coming from three armoured cars, two light machine guns in prepared positions, and several small-calibre guns, probably anti-tank weapons.

As the convoy turned south and fled, large concentrations of trucks were seen to the east moving in a north-westerly direction. After covering eight miles the convoy changed direction east and set a course for Bir es Sufan, where it laagered for the night. During the night tanks and motor vehicles, not identified, passed close, travelling south-east and, unknown to Roberts, NZ Divisional Headquarters Group, with 20 and 21 Battalions and a squadron of I tanks, passed close by on its way to Bir el Chleta. In the morning the broad tracks of German tanks, as it was thought, were found on the ground.

At daybreak another column was observed approaching from the north-west, the general direction in which the hostile vehicles encountered the previous day had lain. As the convoy was about to set off for home—Abiar Nza Ferigh—a solitary vehicle approached from the west. In it were one officer and two near-dead soldiers of 5 South African Brigade. They were taken to Supply Column Headquarters, reached at 10 a.m. without loss of men or vehicles, and sent on to Divisional Headquarters.

The 6th Brigade Company was disbanded without having accomplished its mission. Daniel and Demouth, meanwhile, had run into trouble of their own. After loading up 4000 rations at 62 FMC, the convoy, headed by Daniel's truck, set off for Bir el Chleta at 12.30 p.m. After an overnight halt the journey was resumed at first light, and about the time that Roberts was making for home, Daniel's trucks were rolling west along Trigh Capuzzo. The convoy was not running in blind ignorance, however, for that morning a warning had been received that there were enemy columns about, and Daniel went 600 to 700 yards ahead to act as scout.

All went well until 9 a.m., when the convoy was about three miles east of Gasr el Arid, where tanks had been reported the previous day by Captain Hooper. At this point the road dipped abruptly into a shallow wadi, and for a minute or two Daniel's truck disappeared from the sight of the following convoy. When it was seen again the truck was off the road and was heading north-west straight towards a large group of tanks and trucks. Machine guns spluttered to life and bullets came zipping around the laden trucks.

As the New Zealanders put about they saw Daniel's truck apparently still heading into what appeared to be a hail of explosive bullets and anti-tank shells. What happened to him no one waited to see. At that moment there were other things to think of.

Unexpectedly the Column adjutant, Second-Lieutenant Watt,

Capt A. B. Watt; Wellington; born NZ, 8 Aug 1904; company manager; Adjt Sup Coy 1942-43.

appeared on the scene. His mission was to turn back both Roberts and Daniel. Learning that the 6 Brigade Company scheme had been cancelled and that these convoys had been sent into what was now believed to be enemy-held territory, Watt left Column Headquarters at 5.30 p.m. on 23 November and headed his Dodge ‘bug’ towards the setting sun. When darkness fell he halted and bunked down. Watt slept in the truck, his driver, Myers,

L-Cpl R. J. Myers; Christchurch; born NZ, 3 Jun 1920; assistant slaughterman.

underneath.

At dawn Watt woke with a feeling that everything was not quite right. ‘Crawling over the tailboard I gently woke Myers. Do you see what I see? A mashie shot away were some tanks, about eight of them. We climbed into the bug and prayed that the motor would start immediately. Thanks to our ever faithful Workshops Section, off she went after a couple of kicks.’

Away they went at top speed to the north-east. When they stopped for breakfast they were thoroughly lost. For a while they cruised around, and at last saw through the haze a convoy that looked familiar—Daniel's.

Several miles back down Trigh Capuzzo the now retreating convoy encountered a British headquarters. When Watt reported to ‘a thoroughly English colonel’ that there were tanks a few miles up the track he was laughed at. ‘Treated me as a case of wind up, I think. However, I insisted that I send a message to our own headquarters. He reluctantly introduced me to his adjutant, who was much more sympathetic. In fact, he almost believed me. Driver and I jogged along not knowing what to do about the other convoy until some time later (it was 25 November) we ran into our own Supply Column moving up with the rest of the Division.’

And Daniel? He now was a prisoner of war. Demouth reported that Daniel's truck had inexplicably driven on into a hail of bullets, but this was an illusion in the midst of a ‘flap’. As his truck had nosed down into the wadi, Daniel, seeing a concentration of tanks and armoured vehicles about half a mile to the right, decided he would drive over and verify his position as direction had been lost the previous night. His driver, Keppel,

L-Cpl C. P. Keppel; Oamaru; born Foxton, 7 Sep 1916; clerk.

remarked that the vehicles did not look British, but Daniel, believing there were no enemy columns as far east as this, insisted on going over.

When about 200 or 300 yards from the group, Keppel again said he did not think the vehicles were British, and while he eased up, Daniel poked his head through the roof and put up his binoculars. Instantly tracer came darting towards them. Keppel swung hard on the wheel, but the motor, apparently hit, cut out, and the truck coasted to a stop. Bullets slashed through the radiator and hammered out holes in the cab and even in the water tank in the back. Flying glass cut Daniel's hand, but otherwise the two men were unharmed.

An armoured car came over and took them prisoner.

Keppel, later released from Bardia, came through his adventure with one bright story. After the usual interrogation—what unit (no answer), where were they going (they were lost), why did they volunteer to leave a good country like New Zealand to fight in a country like this, and why did Churchill do this and that—the questioning officer, who did not press for an answer if one was refused, saw a medal Keppel had been awarded for winning the mile championship in the 1941 divisional athletic championships.

‘I see you are a good runner, but you didn't run fast enough this morning,’ said the officer.

Keppel agreed. The officer, who said he had got to know the New Zealand champion runner Jack Lovelock during the 1936 Olympic Games at Berlin, asked Keppel whether he knew him. Keppel replied that he did, and that he had in fact competed against him.

‘What a pity you could not run as fast as him,’ replied the German. ‘You would have been half-way to Cairo by now.’

Shot up, shelled and bombed as it went, this enemy group made its way to the Egyptian frontier and made the attack on Sidi Azeiz. Keppel, sent into Bardia, was searched by Italians and lost his medal, but he complained to a German guard, who retrieved it for him.

While all this was going on, Supply Column, back at Abiar Nza Ferigh, was carrying out, or attempting to carry out, normal supply duties, as well as trying to handle a small horde of prisoners that fighting units were sending for transport to the prisoner-of-war cages further back. With many men away on other tasks, the Column had a worrying time providing guards for the Germans—the Italians were no bother—and the situation was not improved when infantry escorts, contrary to orders, refused to remain with prisoners until the Column was able to release them. But this reluctance of infantrymen to remain, whatever difficulties it caused, hardly called for a reprimand; their keenness to return to their units typified the high morale of the Division in this campaign.

On 23 November No. 1 Echelon was sent back to 50 FSD, taking with it 150 German and Italian prisoners. No. 2 Echelon broke bulk and at 2 p.m. was ordered forward to a supply point at Point 212 on Trigh Capuzzo.

Fourth Brigade was now on its way westward. On the morning of 23 November, with C Squadron of the Divisional Cavalry and 44 Royal Tanks (less one squadron), the brigade moved cautiously towards Gambut. Shelling halted it for a while in the morning, but by mid-afternoon it had secured the Gambut airfield.

After 4 Brigade came Captain Quirk with thirty No. 2 Echelon vehicles to set up his supply point at Point 212. But somewhere things went wrong. Along the Trigh Capuzzo there is first a Point 212, seven miles west a Point 213, which is at the map reference given in the war diary as the Point 212 where the supply point was fixed, and six miles further west again a second Point 212. In general, no one at the time seems to have been clear which was which. The outgoing supply convoy was given a wrong map reference and away it went. It overtook 4 Brigade on the move, and when the brigade stopped ‘moved up through artillery and odd parts of the division’. Watched no doubt by wondering infantrymen, it disappeared in the direction of the enemy to the supposed supply point. ‘We thought the place was not quite right,’ writes Quirk.

‘An officer came up very fast and told us that the blotches on the horizon were German tanks, that our general was preparing to engage them and that we were in the direct line of fire, would we please move our transport,’ he recalls. ‘We moved smartly to the rear of the division and sat there to see the outcome. However, darkness was coming on very fast and there was no engagement.’

That night a supply point was set up, but in the dark several units failed to arrive, and an instruction was given by the Assistant Adjutant and Quartermaster-General (Lieutenant-Colonel Maxwell

Brig D. T. Maxwell, OBE, m.i.d.; Wellington; born NZ, 13 Jun 1898; Regular soldier; DAAG 2 NZEF1940; AA and QMG 2 NZ Div Oct 1941-Jun 1942; comd British Commonwealth Sub-Area, Tokyo, 1946-47; comd Area 5, Wellington, 1947-48; NZ Joint Services Liaison Staff, Melbourne, 1948-51; comd Cent Central Military District 1952-53.

) that supplies were to be taken forward to them.

During the night a message was received that the trucks were in a dangerous area and that preparations were to be made in case of attack. Later tanks came clattering through the darkness, but they were friendly and parked nearby. They were a rear group of 13 Corps, lost and seeking its location. Quirk was able to assist.

The next day Quirk returned to the unit while Watt and Second-Lieutenant Latimer

Maj R. P. Latimer, m.i.d.; Dunedin; born Dunedin, 10 Mar 1915; assistant company manager; OC 1 Amn Coy Sep 1944-Feb 1945.

went on in search of the units that had not received rations. This was easier said than done. The convoy ran into a tank battle and was unable to move until dark, when it finally located the remainder of 4 Brigade B echelon.

On Monday, 24 November, the pot was boiling hard. On this day Rommel launched his counter-thrust to the Egyptian frontier. The New Zealand Division, meanwhile, was pressing forward to secure the vital ground outside Tobruk—Belhamed and the escarpment at Sidi Rezegh. For Supply Column there was now trouble wherever a convoy turned.

Point 175 was securely held by 24 and 25 Battalions. Fourth Brigade cleared Gambut and came up abreast of them. Early on 25 November 4 and 6 Brigades pushed on, 4 Brigade to take Zaafran, and 24 and 26 Battalions along the escarpment to seize the so-called Blockhouse and the Sidi Rezegh airfield. Ahead still lay Belhamed and the escarpment by the mosque of Sidi Rezegh.

Rommel's counter-stroke, meanwhile, was scattering Eighth Army supply transport in all directions. To save his invested frontier positions he despatched 15 and 21 Panzer Divisions and the Ariete Division, and as they struck eastward they inevitably created alarm and confusion in all directions.

To Supply Column, now busily weaving a web of supplies across the desert, all this was most disconcerting. In the course of 24 November the Column had no fewer than seven convoys in various parts of Libya: Quirk was bringing in the No. 2 Echelon group from supplying 4 Brigade, and part of this, under Watt and Latimer, was still chasing up the rest of the brigade; Roberts was returning with his unsuccessful 6 Brigade Company, and Demouth was bringing in his part of it; No. 1 Echelon returned from a routine visit to 50 FSD, and later in the day went out to victual the Division; and Second-Lieutenant Battersby

Capt T. M. Battersby, m.i.d.; Rotorua; born Auckland, 30 Apr 1911; garage sales manager.

set out for 50 FSD, only to find his way blocked by tanks.

After the mishaps of 23 November no convoy was sent to the supply point on the 24th until the Commander NZASC reported that the area chosen was clear of the enemy. Then, escorted by two Bren carriers and a Honey tank, Morris set out at 3 p.m. with No. 1 Echelon.

The trucks did not get far. Seven miles out they ran into a soft pan, and half a dozen of them sank to their axles and gear boxes. The Honey could make no headway with the floundering vehicles. More Bren carriers came into view some time later, and after the trucks had been unloaded, the carriers, three to each vehicle, dragged them clear. After that it was time to brew up.

It was now too late to continue, and the convoy laagered in square formation and Morris sent back to the unit for hot rations. The night was pitch black—fortunately. In the early hours of the morning the roar and clatter of trucks and tanks came across the desert from the north and steadily swelled into a tremendous clamour; armour moving at night sounds like a horde of racing cars belting along with long strings of old iron trailing behind. The armoured column, identified as German, rolled past the laagered trucks; only 500 yards away, the column was between Morris's convoy and Supply Column Headquarters. ‘If Jerry had chosen a course 500 yards west of the one he took he would have driven clean through us in the dark,’ reports Morris. By daylight the enemy had gone.

On the way to the supply point that morning the convoy was stopped by an armoured patrol and told to wait for instructions. Two miles due south British tanks attached to 13 Corps were engaging the enemy, and ‘anything was likely to happen’. After about half an hour's waiting around Morris was allowed to speak to Rear Divisional Headquarters on the radio of one of the AFVs and was given a new point at which to rejoin Column Headquarters.

Then down from the hazy sky came screaming Stukas, about eighteen of them, and bombs began erupting. ‘Still no casualties, but we were glad when things quietened down for a bit.’ At the supply rendezvous the Supply Column men found the Division engaged in an artillery duel. Vehicles were dispersed, supplies distributed to units who came for them, and a small quantity of 25-pounder ammunition was delivered to the guns. More enemy planes came down, but though there were casualties around about, the Supply Column came through ‘without more than a fright’.

But the job was still not completed. Hot spot though this might be, there were still troops somewhere to whom rations must be taken, and part of the convoy under Rawle went forward. The trucks went over the escarpment where 6 Brigade had only recently fought, and on to the road. Shellfire was splashing about, but no one was hit. The convoy went west along the road, through the artillery, and dispersed and halted while Rawle made a reconnaissance. Bombers swooped on the trucks and nearby 25-pounders and anti-tank guns, and while the Supply Column men flattened themselves against the ground, jagged holes appeared in their vehicles. Again no one was hit. The artillery kept hammering away.

When Rawle returned the trucks moved forward again and no time was wasted in unloading at the various cooks' trucks. Then they pulled back behind the artillery and camped for the night. Artillery officers asked if they had any ammunition as they were running short. That night the guns were busy, and counter-battery fire from the enemy kept things lively. When the convoy pulled back in the morning, the drivers could hear behind them the chatter of machine guns and the crack of mortars and artillery.

The other section of the convoy had also spent the night abroad in the desert. It camped between General Freyberg's headquarters and the enemy at Gambut, and a runner came out with the suggestion that it would be safer behind the tank screen. Morris preferred to stay where he was, however, and was granted permission ‘at his own peril’. Both sections rejoined the unit that day.

Back at Abiar Nza Ferigh all this time the rest of the Column was having trouble of its own. At 4 p.m. on 24 November the water section, under Battersby, set off for 50 FSD to replenish. The trucks carried wounded. At 8 p.m. Battersby was back with the information that he had met enemy AFVs 15 miles to the south, and as he was carrying wounded he could not risk an attempt to run around them. This was alarming news, for 50 FSD was the source of supplies, and that morning a No. 2 Echelon convoy under Second-Lieutenant Cottrell

Capt A. B. Cottrell, MC; Bay of Plenty; born Rotorua, 25 Mar 1915; carrier.

had set out for this depot to load up.

At 10 a.m. next day 13 Corps reported that the route to 50 FSD was open, and away went Battersby again. He returned at 1 p.m. with the news that the enemy was still astride the route and in fact had moved eight miles to the north. Nothing had been heard from Cottrell and all that was known of him was that he had been seen by a tank officer passing through the wire into Egypt at 5 p.m. the previous day. His non-return was presumed—rightly—to be due to the presence of enemy armour.

Here the lack of something was shown. ASC units were not equipped with radio and once abroad in the desert had no way of calling up their headquarters. ASC convoys, criss-crossing the desert on their various tasks, could have been useful as reconnaissance patrols, but whatever they saw on their travels and whatever trouble they encountered, they could do absolutely nothing except run. Had Cottrell had wireless, he could have told Column Headquarters the previous night that the enemy was closing in on 50 FSD and that it would be useless and dangerous to attempt to reach it.

But although the unit was not aware of this, it certainly knew all was not well in the south, and Pryde went across to Rear Division to say so. He was being assured—as the ASC was so often assured during Crusader—that there were no enemy tanks for miles and that Battersby was undoubtedly seeing things, when a despatch rider rode in from Supply Column Headquarters with a message that clouds of dust were approaching from the south-south-east and the indications were that they were hostile. It was about this time that news of the raiding of 50 FMC was received, and a prompt order was given to Supply Column to move west forthwith to Bir el Haleizin, detaching before it went a group to supply 5 Brigade, which was still at Sidi Azeiz. Nothing was known of what had become of Cottrell's convoy.

‘What a scatter to get going,’ and the Column's departure was given added urgency when an RASC driver pulled in and asked, ‘Have you any petrol?’ Certainly, he was assured. Would he like some. ‘No, chum, I don't want any petrol. You'll need it all yourselves. Jerry's about 20 minutes behind me.’

The effect on loading operations was marked. As twenty minutes ticked away, eyes anxiously watched the south, but no one was more perturbed than the remnants of the Italian prisoners of war still on hand. Few load-carrying trucks were available to carry them. Most of them were stowed away among various loads, but when everything was packed and the Column ready to move, a few prisoners of ‘little military value’ were still on the ground, and were to be left to be collected by the approaching enemy. The prospect did not appeal to them and they became highly excited. Finally, as the trucks began to move off at 3.30 p.m., their feet found wings, and they came pounding through the dust of the convoy and swung themselves aboard wherever they could. Some must have run at least a quarter of a mile and no doubt broke a few records.

When the dust had settled the group left behind to supply 5 Brigade had the desert to itself. This was another composite ASC group, again under Roberts, and it waited around for half an hour for a section of Ammunition Company to arrive. Lyon was sent out to patrol the eastern approaches.

While the group was waiting around it was decided to blow up a nearby German ammunition dump. Several attempts were made before the dump caught, just as the Ammunition Company detachment arrived. The whole group moved away to a pyrotechnic send-off.

There were two other absentees from Supply Column on its move west. At 10 a.m. Demouth had set out for the supply point, now located seven miles south of Trigh Capuzzo, and Latimer was away with a convoy carrying prisoners and about seventy British wounded.

Darkness closed down before Supply Column reached Bir el Haleizin, and behind the jolting trucks, flares, so beloved by the enemy—brilliant reds, greens and oranges—were sprouting. As the new area was approached artillery was whipping the night and machine guns were chattering. Not far away the infantry was getting ready for the final breakthrough to Tobruk. At 9 p.m. 18 and 20 Battalions advanced on Belhamed. Two hours later 21, 24, 25 and 26 Battalions thrust at the escarpment above the Sidi Rezegh mosque, intending to go through to Ed Duda. In the Tobruk salient the besieged garrison made a thrust outwards to Ed Duda. The fighting went on throughout 26 November and it was not until early on the morning of 27 November that 19 Battalion (and not 21 and 26 Battalions as had been planned) reached Ed Duda, gained by the Tobruk forces the previous afternoon. So on the morning of 27 November the New Zealanders held the way open to Tobruk and had possession of two of the three escarpments that formed terraces inland towards the Libyan plateau. Fourth Brigade held the high ground from Zaafran to Belhamed and Ed Duda. Sixth Brigade, on Point 175 and the escarpment above Sidi Rezegh, held the second escarpment. But the enemy was still on the third and southernmost escarpment and was making good use of his observation.

Throughout all this Supply Column was not very comfortably placed. If it had previously been too close to the fire for comfort, it was now in the centre of a thoroughly stirred-up pot, and it could be fairly sure that in whichever direction it turned it would meet trouble. With enemy tanks astride the supply lines, the supply situation became serious, and rations were cut by half and the water ration reduced to a quart a day a man for all purposes; not much is left when you have to cook and fill the radiator. Beards began to sprout.

From the time the Column halted at what was presumed to be Bir el Haleizin on the night of 25 November there were worries. The first was whether, in this lively part of the desert, the unit was in its correct location. After travelling by compass and speedometer, there could be no way of telling until daylight permitted a resection to be made. Morning showed that the unit was just short of where it should be.

There were plenty of other worries. A count showed that all that were present of Supply Column were three officers, Pryde, Quirk and McLaughlin,

Dvr T. McLaughlin; Westport; born NZ, 27 Jul 1912; shop assistant.

fifty-one other ranks and nine vehicles. Cottrell was still missing, and at 8.30 a.m. Latimer turned up with three vehicles to report that Demouth and seven other vehicles were missing and were probably captured. Latimer had spent the night with tanks on his heels and had come home with a splintered but still intact windshield and a broken pistol. An attempt to smash the windscreen to give better vision during the night flight had been a proving test for triplex glass.

Demouth, however, was not a prisoner and was himself wondering what had become of Latimer. Since he had left the unit the previous day Demouth's wanderings had taken him far. He located the supply point easily enough at midday on the 25th, only to find from Watt, who had arrived earlier, that it had been moved forward. They were searching for the new supply point when, at 2 p.m., Watt learned that Latimer was at the previous supply point, and as the divisional administration group was about to move west to its new area at Bir el Haleizin, Watt instructed Demouth to intercept Latimer and guide him there. But by the time Demouth reached the old supply point, Latimer had gone off to 13 Corps Headquarters. Demouth overtook him there at 6 p.m. It was now too late to return to Supply Column Headquarters that day, and Demouth decided to assist Latimer.

Latimer's convoy, which consisted of five Supply Column trucks and some 4 Brigade vehicles, had picked up wounded and prisoners from an advanced dressing station near Sidi Rezegh and, on instructions from Colonel Maxwell, had set out to take them to 30 Corps. En route Latimer encountered a British tank and was told that Bir Gubi had been overrun and that he should go to 13 Corps instead. Thirteenth Corps, however, declined to take over Latimer's load, and although flares were visible in the direction of Sidi Azeiz, a brigadier told Latimer to go to 5 NZ Field Ambulance.

The convoy set out, but when an enemy concentration was sighted ahead, put about and returned to 13 Corps. Latimer said he would attempt to get the wounded through but would not take the prisoners. The brigadier emphatically assured Latimer that the place was not surrounded—the old story—but agreed to take over the prisoners.

Away went the convoy again along Trigh Capuzzo, with Demouth at the head and Latimer at the tail. It was now dark, and about five miles to the east, when not far from Sidi Azeiz, the head of the convoy ran right into a panzer laager. Upon them before he was aware of their presence, Demouth ran through the tank lines and past Germans standing smoking by their vehicles, swung about and headed back towards the convoy again. As he emerged a green flare glowed up behind him, and the whole convoy put about and fled west. Somewhere in this scramble for safety the convoy split. Latimer, heading west along Trigh Capuzzo, came across an anti-tank screen about two miles along the road and warned them that tanks were nearby. He pushed on for three or four miles, and when he stopped to check his convoy, tanks fired on him from the rear.

Thinking these were the same tanks that had been encountered earlier and that Demouth and the others had been overrun, Latimer set off again. The following tanks put up flares, bronze and white, from which it seemed that there were half a dozen or so of them. The convoy left Trigh Capuzzo and made tracks for Gambut. Another group of tanks appeared from the south.

At dawn Latimer turned his convoy, and passing barely 200 yards from the nearest German tank, set a course for Bir el Haleizin.

Demouth, meantime, had bivouacked for the night with the remainder of the vehicles. In the morning, of course, he could see no sign of the others, and started to think about what he was going to do with the wounded. G Branch 13 Corps Headquarters could not even tell him where he could get urgently needed petrol, water and rations. At last he came across 4 and 5 NZ Field Ambulances about four miles west of Sidi Azeiz, just as they were on the point of moving out. These units took over the wounded, and because of the strain this sudden influx placed upon their transport, Demouth put his vehicles at the disposal of 5 Field Ambulance until the hospital was shifted. He finished this task at 3 p.m. and reached Column Headquarters an hour later.

All except Cottrell were now either present or accounted for.

The Column now was casting about for fresh supplies. Since Cottrell had not returned and all supply lines were blocked, nothing had been received for two days. At 3 p.m. this day (26 November) Division advised Column Headquarters that Trigh Capuzzo was clear as far east as Sidi Azeiz and that a convoy was to be sent immediately to 51 FSD, a new depot, in 13 Corps' area.

No. 1 Echelon, under Morris, was selected for this task. When he received his instructions, Morris reported to Colonel Crump that the area concerned had been under fire the previous day. Crump showed him a situation report declaring the area clear. But Morris was not entirely convinced. Before starting he arranged with his second-in-command, Rawle, that if trouble was encountered Morris would give three long blasts on his car horn and signal a change of direction. Each vehicle was to turn and set off at full speed and in line.

‘This was the only time I ever lined up all the drivers and went through this preliminary drill to ensure perfection,’ says Morris. ‘Oddly enough it was the only occasion I was ever called upon to make this manœuvre.’

The trucks set off on the high ground above the escarpment south of Trigh Capuzzo. Trouble soon came—from an unexpected quarter. About forty Marylands came over and, presumably mistaking the trucks for a German convoy, let go their bombs. No one was hurt, and an explanation was forthcoming shortly afterwards. Three armoured cars halted Morris and told him he was in enemy-held territory. He explained what he was doing and was allowed to go on.

A few miles further on shellbursts blossomed to the left. At first it was thought they were overs from a tank battle near Gambut, but when shells began to fall among vehicles, there was no doubt about for whom they were intended. Morris ‘pounced’ on the horn and as he signalled the trucks swung south. ‘I was grateful the drivers were so cool,’ says Morris. As the vehicles turned south Rawle looked across to Morris, grinned, and gave the thumbs-up sign.

About two miles to the south the convoy swung left, halted to check course, and set off again. The journey was continued into the night. A few miles from where 51 FSD should have been, the convoy met another column of trucks heading west. This was 13 Corps Headquarters, which was leaving, Morris was told by Major Sanders,

Lt-Col G. P. Sanders, DSO, m.i.d.; Linton; born England, 2 Sep 1908; Regular soldier; CO 26 Bn Jun-Jul 1944, 27 (MG) Bn and 27 Bn (Japan) Nov 1944-46; Director of Training, Army HQ, 1949-54; GSO 1 NZ Div 1954-.

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