So on the 25th of November, I reported to the troop movement office at Toronto Union Station to pick up my marching orders, or in this case train orders. On receiving them I was very surprised to find that I had been issued with first class tickets, entitling me to what was called a roomette. This was basically a room that at night converted to a sleeper. My room had two bench type seats - plush lined - on which I could stretch out if I wanted to. I was not confined to just my room as I could go on down to the club car where one met all types of people, who upon finding out who I was [A New Zealander] plied me with all the drinks that I could possibly down.
Of course I still had to eat, and again when I asked where I could get some food the conductor told me that I was entitled to go to the dining car and all meals were paid for care of the government. Boy who was I to get all this attention? Still I am not going to complain, especially as come night time my bed was made up for me and in the morning it was put away again while I could do my ablutions in my own cabin.
Oh brother, if this is wartime travelling what must it be like in peacetime? Enjoy it while you can brother, as you are bound to wake up tomorrow and find out that [a] it was a mistake and I would have to pay everything back or [b] this is all a dream. But for the next few days and nights, enjoy.
As we were traveling by THE CANADIAN NATIONAL RAILWAYS: [Government owned] we went through Jasper National Park and what a sight too. There were bears [Grizzlies] and wolves all around us and if you think that I saw any of them you would be mistaken. Not a sight of them. However I did manage to get a photo of Jasper Station. But now we are on the last leg of our journey and the west coast of Canada, where somewhere out there was a ship ready to take me home.
So after arriving in Vancouver I made my way to the Air Force station and reported in. Now it was a matter of just waiting for the next movement order, so lets do some sightseeing. Easier said than done as every bloody day I looked out the window all I could see was FOG and more FOG and I do mean FOG. If the fog in England was a pea souper what was this. It was so thick that you could cut a section out of it with a knife, which I always carried and take it back to the barracks as a pet. I had never seen anything so thick before and was told that this was normal for this time of year
However on one day the dawn broke and there was just no fog whatsoever, so I went down to the wharves as this base was a flying boat base and in the hangars were some Stranraer flying boat - an enormous biplane. So being nosey, I climbed aboard and had a look through it, climbing up into the tail position where a gunner would normally stand and on turning around found that the rest of the aircraft was ahead of me and I was one hell of a way up in the air. Now this and the front position were open to the atmosphere and offered no protection from the elements. Both positions had what was called a Scarth ring, on which the single machine gun was fitted and the poor gunner stood in the full blast of the wind. As these aircraft were good long range aircraft they were used both in England and Canada for anti submarine patrols, but I would have hated to have been a gunner in one.
Now on climbing down from the aircraft I went out to the dockside and there tied up to the side was a PT boat. As I have always admired these boats I decided to go on board and have a look see. Going on board, I looked for someone to give me permission to be on board but could find no one, so just poked my nose into every nook and cranny that I could find. These boats had as a propulsion unit not one but three Rolls Royce or in this case Packard built Merlins - two aligned fore and aft and one across and what beautiful looking motors they were too.
On the aft section of the boat [see I know quite a few nautical phrases] was a gun turret that housed four guns, and this was used for protection, and you most likely have seen in old movies these boats moving at great speed on their way to saving downed airmen. So I was very fascinated on looking over this type of craft. Well I had seen most of the craft when a siren sounded and a voice came from out of the blue, “Get off the
boat fast!”
So not asking any questions I took to my heels and departed the boat and on turning around to see what was going on I saw the boat already well away from the wharf, stern down and nose up and a huge stern wave. Where was it going?! I do not know as this was on the west coast a fully operational station so it was obviously on its way to some emergency. I did not bother to find out but just admired the speed and looks of the, I believe, Vosper boat.
Next morning on lifting up the blinds I was surprised to find that we had again got fog, glorious fog, and so could go out to shop, or stay in the barracks and play pool. Now Christmas was on us and what to do? The station had a great rapport with what was called “The friends of the station" who took in lonesome waifs [us airman from other countries] and took them home for entertainment. And so on this day they took a Johnny Baylis and myself home for Christmas, and what a Christmas it turned out to be.
However on the 27th of December our stay in Vancouver came to an end and we were ordered to board a train bound for San Francisco. Ah, what a name and soon we would be seeing that great city, or so we thought, as we had boarded the slow train to the bay. Yes, you see we were not a troop train and so had to park up at every passing loop just to let the troop trains or trains hauling war material pass us by. So we spent five hours at Portland, Oregon, and then three hours at Seattle, Washington, or was it the other way around? Who cares, as we still spent an awful lot of time admiring the scenery from within the confines of the train.
Now, even though we had departed Vancouver on the 27th we did not arrive at San Francisco until the 29th, having spent a couple of glorious days trying to get sleep at night on bench seats, with no blankets - just our great coats to keep us warm. Food brought to us á la picnic style and not being able to get off the train for fear of the train being made to move if a space suddenly appeared. And in this time we still had to do our ablutions and make ourselves look like we were airmen and we were enjoying ourselves. However the day arrived when we duly arrived at this great big city. So with our taxi awaiting to pick us up [the usual covered truck], which in turn took us down to Fisherman's Wharf where we caught a ferry for our next destination, Fort McDowell, a small Island in San Francisco Bay.
Before we got to the Fort we had to call into the USA Government-owned Hilton Supreme Hotel, complete with porters armed with either a Tommy gun or else a shotgun. And to think that one had an island with no cars on it and all expenses paid and all one had to do to get on it was commit murder or some other high class crime . Yes this was ALCATRAZ before it was downgraded. So on both the outward and the homeward journey we had to call in to unload or pickup the wardens families or to drop off prisoners who once there virtually died there.
So every day we were given leave but had to make sure that we were back on base at the time stipulated on our passes, which was generally midnight. If you missed the ferry you could not hitchhike or even swim to the island, so you could then be picked up by the shore patrol who did not not care what nationality you were and they were not gentle with you either. So beware, just get the boat or else.
Comes New Year's Eve, and again leave had been granted until, yes you guessed it, midnight! So off onto the ferry and Fisherman's Wharf. There it was a case of getting one of the famous cable cars into the main part of the city and if I am right it was Market Street. This street was wide enough for two tram tracks alongside one another and it was great fun watching them [the trams that is] trying to beat one another to pick up passengers, as they were two companies operating and so they fought for passengers.
Well come late afternoon and I met up with a couple of GI Joes who had just got back from the Pacific war and a period in NZ on R and R, and they were most insistent that I join them on their tour of the town as the people of NZ had shown them nothing but kindness, despite rationing, and they would just like to repay some of that kindness - so THE DRINKS ARE ON US - and so was everything else. Now the crowd was starting to get intense and in fact you could barely move. Comes time to get the ferry and we must take our leave, at least that was the intention, but on the way I lost my hat and then I was hoisted onto the shoulders of my new found allies and with them singing out for everyone to hear KIWI'S KIWI'S and somehow the crowd seemed to know who we were. Time just disappeared and so did the last ferry.
What now? No worries, just follow us and some how or somewhere we spent the night, but next morning, after getting my eyesight back, I found myself down at the wharf at Chinaman's cove having a feed of steak and eggs [well done, not easy over] and surprise, surprise, my hat was now upon my head.
So what to do now?! Had the boat gone without me, I knew that I was AWOL but what can I do?!
I know I'll just pretend that I have just come into town and that my leave pass was for the 1st of the month so with that firmly in the back of my mind I spent the day again sightseeing and drinking.
Comes the evening and time to get back to the Fort and suffer the consequences of my actions, and so back to the Fort I head. And upon arrival I flashed my leave pass [blue, which I have kept] as I passed through the guard house and nothing. I was through and I couldn't have been missed. Whew!
However next day I was again given leave so off to the city once more, until the 4th, when I was told to get my kit bags together and climb into that there boat. That there boat just happened to be a landing craft and this time across the bay. We did not stop at Alcatraz but headed straight to the main wharves where we pulled alongside one huge ship. Hanging down the side of the ship was climbing nets which we were now expected to climb and me with not one but two kit bags. So quickly tying both together I slung them around my neck down under my arms so they hung to the rear of me, and started to climb the side of the ship until I got to the top of the net. So far so good. Now where?!
“Right oh fellas," our minder said, “Just find a hammock and make yourselves comfortable.”
Wait a moment, we were on the outside of the ship on what was called the Mezzanine deck, and we were going to go home via the outside of the ship! You had better believe it as there was 8000 Yanks to get on board, and this did not count the detachment of Royal Marines already on board who would man the big gun hanging out the rear of the ship. Then there's the crew and also some Aussies who were on their way home. So you can see we were pretty crowded.
Now, attached to the side of the ship was what I would have thought was the luggage rack, so what better place to bunk down if we had a mattress. Talking to our minder he arranged for half a dozen mattresses to somehow find there way to our position, where upon I was fortunate to grab one and made a bed for myself up out of the way. I must say that we were not open to the elements as there windows along the rail for just a short distance so we did have some protection from the elements
About 6.00pm we were hitched up to a couple of tugs and slipped out into the harbour, where we turned and headed out to sea via under the Golden Gate, and what a sight it was too. And guess what, we again got fog. Now the name of the ship was NIEUW AMSTERDAMN, and no I don't think that I have spelt it wrong, and if I have, tough cookies.*
Yes it was, I believe, at this time and place the fourth largest ship on the ocean. Well now with all these bods, over 8000 Yanks on board, feeding them and us was going to be a problem - but no, things were well and truly organised. Apparently there was to be six sittings at the mess room on our level, and remember that there were other levels also. Us KIWIS were lucky in that we were the first sitting, but meals were only served twice a day, so it paid to take what food you could stick into your pocket and there was plenty of fruit and also baked potatoes. These turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
Well the first day out we had just a gentle swell and so on for just about the whole trip home. It was noticed that on the second day out, there were quite a few vacancy's at the tables and come the third day there were masses of vacancy's so there was plenty of food for us and boy did we make the most of it. Now as the days progressed we had to step over the Yanks who were having four meals a day [two down and two up] and most were just hanging out over their hammocks throwing the contents of their stomachs just as far as they could. We just couldn't let an opportunity like this go to waste so very politely we would ask them if they would like us to get them some nice greasy pork chops or something just as slimy which would make it easier for them to digest and also bring up. Somehow they didn't seem to appreciate our help as all it did was seem to make them try to throw what they had left in their stomach just a little further [Poor buggers].
This being sick did nothing for us Kiwi's, as we had to walk through all the mess to get to the mess room. Of course some of them, the Yanks that is, started to recover fairly soon and it was quite funny seeing them sitting up against the wall looking very gray indeed. Still we did offer to bring them food to which most changed colour again. Now also in the second day out, a wooden target was dropped over the stern of the ship and after going a few miles from it the six inch gun at the stern opened up, the first shot falling short to which the Yanks who were still standing said ”Look the goddamn Poms can't shoot.” So on the next shot the shot went over the target and again laughter from the Yanks BUT on the next six shots the target just disappeared never to be seen again and nor was any laughter from the Yanks heard.
After this shoot, the ack ack guns on the side of the ship opened up and just fired up into the sky just for practice, and so with these niceties out of the way we settled down to the long haul to NZ. One thing about being on our deck was that we could jog or go for a walk around the deck as it was four times around we had covered one mile, so we could keep fit and in fact were encouraged to do so, nay ordered to do so by our minder. One just could not get away from PT. Now as we approached the equator we were privileged to just sit and watch as we had already been across. But there was no real intimate tomfoolery as there was just too many bods to go through the process so to speed things up a large fire hose was brought into use and so King Neptune visited us once more.
If he could find us how come the Japs or the Germans couldn't?
All they way down [and also when we came up] there were masses of flying fish which were very interesting. I must say that going home was easier than when we came up as it was all down hill and we hardly noticed the bump as we passed over the equator. So now it was all down hill but early one night, or was it morning, it all depends on how close to midnight we were, suddenly the throbbing of the motors increased and the stern was throwing up a great plume of water and then we did a high speed turn of about 45* the boat heeling over alarmingly to then straighten up. This was repeated time and time again at about 30 Knots zig zagging all the time for quite a few hours. So what were we running from! Could it be a Jap submarine or was it a German surface ship or submarine? Who knows as no one confided in us but just let us spread rumours around as the Yanks will believe anything anyway, as they were on their way to North Africa or so they thought but when we told them that we were heading home they then started to listen to us.
Now as the temperature was starting to drop rapidly we knew we were getting close to the South Pole, and if the ship could keep this speed up we might just be able to ski to the Pole. But then just as we had suddenly increased our speed so we dropped down to our normal cruising speed and began a beading Northward again, so the helmsman must have seen the end of the world and turned just in time because no one on board was ready to get off anyway.
Around the 12th of January 1944 in the morning there appeared to our left [port] side a piece of land [The Great Barrier] and in the distance on our starboard side was an even greater mass of land which we took for the North Island and so we are going to disembark at Auckland, or at least we hope to.
Now the Yanks had a funny thing about letting anybody see their troops and so ordered everybody EXCEPT the KIWIS to go below decks, while the KIWIS were to assemble on the top deck in their No. 1 uniforms for PT. Are they completely mad? How do they expect us to do PT in our uniforms? Still orders is orders, and who were we to disobey them?
So up onto the top deck we go, and our minder made us form up and then told us to do a couple of exercises and then he had the audacity to stand us down and relax just when we were starting to enjoy ourselves. But wait there's more, as just at this moment from behind us an aircraft flies into view which turned out to be a recco Hudson with roundels on its side and so we knew we were home. Why were we on the top deck? Well the explanation was that as most of us had not seen our home country for so long we may as well have a first class look at it.
So we progressed down the coast until we entered the Rangitoto channel, when over the cone of the icon came four P40's and they proceeded to fly on the port side low down in line astern just for the hell of it I suspect. By this time we have picked up the harbour pilot as we proceeded slowly around North Head and into the harbour proper to have the two tugs, one the Te Awhina and the other the William C Daldy, take the mooring lines aboard and slowly inch us towards Princess Wharf. With the mooring lines on the starboard side now firmly attached to the wharf, we the KIWIS were told that we would be first off, so collect your gear and be ready to disembark. Did we need any more persuasion? Not bloody likely.
So as soon as the gang-plank was lowered we were down the thing smartly. But, and there always has to be a but. before we could go anywhere we first of all had to go through Customs, which turned out to be just a mere formality as the Custom officers were more interested in where we had been and wanted just to welcome us home.
This formality over, we were then ordered to climb into our Air Force blue taxis, that looked a lot like trucks with a roof over the top and lined with a bench seat down either side. We couldn't complain, for after all we were on home soil. Picking out the softest metal seat possible by just seeing which one had the most paint off it, which would then show that this was the seat of choice, I sat down and wondered where we would be heading to, so as soon as the back cover was lowered we were off. And where to? Why out to a place called Mangere. [where else?] Here we dismounted and were taken to a barrack were we sorted out a bed each and waited for the next move. It was not long in coming and an Officer came in and asked us;
“Who comes from Auckland?”
Well naturally I stuck my hand up and the man said, “Right oh, you can go home for the night, but you must report here again tomorrow morning for your next move."
"Please, sir, can Johnny come home with me?”
“Where does he live?” was his question.
“Kaitaia sir," was Johnny's reply.
“Yes you can go providing you both report back here tomorrow.” As if we would do a thing like that and not show up. Shame on the man's thoughts. So it was out to our awaiting blue taxi for the ride into town again, this time with no kit bag to hold us up.
Well the Air Force bus or taxi dropped us off not in town, but at the Air Force base in Parnell, and so catching a tram [does any one remember them?] and paying the huge price of two pence each, we got to the bottom of town where we endeavoured to get a taxi out to St Heliers Bay. But as no taxi driver liked going out to the bay as they didn't stand a chance in hell of getting a return fare from out there, so the driver who we selected to do the honours of taking us was trying to drum up more people wanting to go out our way. But boy, was he out of luck. This was called touting and was permitted with the first hirers consent. Remember this is war time and fuel is rationed together with food and clothes. Still we haven't got much time for niceties so with a fair bit of cajoling, we were off.
Now we approached my house, which was at the end of the main road, but the last four houses were cut off by another main road, so our section was pretty quiet. I told the driver to go to the end of the street and turn as this would put the house on the left side and easier to get out. Out side the front of the house was my father watering the garden. One thing both my mother and father took pride in was their garden and no matter what they put in everything seemed to grow beautifully, even bananas believe it or not.
So having told Johnny to hold my old man off, I paid the taxi driver off, and then all hell broke loose as the old man saw me and turning round ran up the few steps onto the front porch and singing out,
“Kitty! Kitty! He's home, he's home!”
He ran inside still with the hose going full blast and still in his hand. Now Kitty was dad's name for mum, and having made sure mum had heard him he was out to the porch again still with a very active hose going and then again turning he went inside once more to tell mum that,
'He's home, he's home Kitty.”
Once more to appear out at the front porch. Well by this time I have got to the hose tap and turned it off and went up the stairs to go inside. As mum had a lot of pot plants inside, I don't think that she wanted as much water as dad had put in the hall and the front room as well as the ceiling and anything else that happened to get in the way. To say that there was a mess was an understatement and to this day I can still see my old man with a hose in his hand watering the plants inside the house.
As we only could stay overnight, there was a lot of catching up to do and even though rationing was in place, mum still managed to turn on a superb meal, which both Johnny and myself thoroughly enjoyed. It was certainly great to sleep in one's own bed again, even though it was only for a night. Of course the old man thought that I was home for good and was horrified when I told him that it was possible that I would be going overseas again as soon as I had passed my medical.
So next morning both Johnny and myself said goodbye and caught a bus [L.J.KEYS] into town and made our way to Parnell, where our Air Force bus awaited us to take us back out to Mangere. On arrival, Johnny and I parted, although this was not the last time that I would see him. Remember he was an air gunner. My orders were to report down at Rongotai where all this started and so on the 14th of February 1944, I caught the train down to Wellington and got settled in for the next stage of what the Air Force wanted of me.
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Note 1: See more on the ocean liner Nieuw Amsterdamn here and here