Memoirs of Dennis Donovan

Dennis Donovan
Christchurch
25 February 1992



I was in the Marine Section of the RNZAF and, after doing a twelve month stint at Laucala Bay in Fiji I was posted to take charge of the Section at No 6 Squadron which had just then transferred from Segond Channel (Santos).

In this capacity I relieved my friend Corporal Dave Cambie who was itching to get back to godzone. This was to the best of my recollection in late 1943 - or early 1944. My rank at the time was a newly reclassified L.A.C!

Halavo Bay at this time was an American base - home to a squadron of PBY5 (Catalina) flying boats and the N.Z. Squadron had not been long in residence under the stars & stripes. Residences consisted of 6 - 8 man tents sited on boggy ground and not entirely waterproof. My own bunk (a collapsible cot) was sited right alongside a huge fallen coconut trunk which was home to a large colony of scorpions. The tent floor was sections of Marston matting laid on coconut logs - and the water level was usually about an inch or two below the level of the matting! You took your boots and your .303 rifle to bed with you inside the mosquito net.

I arrived to inherit a rather unhappy state of affairs. The main task of the section there was to service the needs of the flying boat (kites) and their crews. The kites had to be armed, fuelled and rationed by sea - and when they had to come ashore for servicing the Marine Section got them there. Beaching space was limited as were the number of serviceable marine craft for these functions. It had therefore been decreed - just prior to my arrival - that ALL these functions were to be in the hands of New Zealand crews. I was told this was so because the U.S. personnel were below standard in these tasks.

Perhaps as a result of this decree - or perhaps because of a natural antipathy - it was difficult for us - at my level anyway - to get much co-operation from the Yanks. (But see below re Gavutu Island). We did all our own boat repairs and our one engine mechanic, Reg Grenfell, was starved for spares for the hard working Chrysler Crown petrol engines and the Buda diesels in the refuelling barges. However, we carried on with our principal task which was providing a taxi service to the 'Cats' - both U.S. Navy and RNZAF.

Another area of discontent emerged because of the current method of providing the taxi service. When a kite returned from a patrol there was always a certian amount of tidying up to do before the crew were ready to go ashore. They then signalled the tower by radio or Aldis lamp to send a boat - and the boat was nor [sic JS 'not'] always as prompt as one could wish. The boat crews complained that often as not, when the got to the kite they had to hang on "for ages" before the aircrew emerged. I changed that procedure. In future whenever a kite returned to base there was to be a boat alongside as soon as she picked up the moorings. My boat crews remonstrated that they would then have to wait for the crew whereupon I told them they may as well wait alongside the kite as alongside the jetty! The word got around and I subsequently heard on the grapevine that the marine crews at Halavo were "right on the ball". And relationships between the marine crews and the rest of the base improved no end.

My immediate superior was the Squadron Intelligence Officer - one David Russell, a farmer from Waipukurau - who had to be officially responsible to the C.O. for the Marine Section. Cambie had given me a bad report on Russell but he never once interfered with my running of the section. We got on quite well - here are a few 'trivia':-

I found on my arrival that it was the custom on a quiet day for the C.O. and a few of the Officers to take one of our fast 24 foot launches - personnel boats they were called - out in the bay waterskiing. Because of maintenance problems mentioned above I frowned on this practice but let it go. But when, one very calm day, I was asked to provide a second boat to rough up the surface of the water I dug my toes in and stopped the whole procedure. I was not very popular in the officers quarters as you might imagine. A mere bloody L.A.C!
[JS Note It was a procedure in calm weather for boats to be used to rough up the water as flying boats attempting to take off had difficulty breaking the suction that occurred between F/B and the water]

One of our Navy Fairmiles came into Tulagi Harbour one day. Russell came to me saying he had an officer friend in the Fairmile and he'd like to pay him a visit that evening - could I lay on a boat. So I instructed the duty crew accordingly. One of them, Alf Pine, came to say let Green have the night off and come myself and he explained that Green did not drink! I got the message and the three of us set off - Russell, Pine and me. Getting there was fine in broad daylight and stone sober. Coming back was another matter - pitch black and all of us drunk as lords! I suffered badly the next day. An excess of navy rum attracts the flies in the tropical sun.

Then there were the chickens. The Americans were shifting out of the base at Tulagi and Russell discovered they would be leaving an unknown number of chickens behind. There would not be enough for the whole camp - but the Officers may as well have them? So at dusk we three or four boats to Tulagi and rounded up as many fowl as could be found asleep. I think there was an extra issue of beer for the Marine Section.

I had a good friend in one Jim Beattie - Flight Lieutenant and Senior Ops Officer. His offsider was F/O Butch Wardon and we used to play chess together - Butch just a learner. But Butch had his hand on the wrong end of a Very pistol one day and he had to be sent home. Beattie had been a Sgt. Photographer with the R.A.F. in Singaport. Once a week a kite would proceed to an island (called KIA I think) to collect crayfish for the officers' table. Beattie always went along because he was familiar with the native languages. Of course, Jim always managed to snaffle a few crays for his own purposes and he and I would have a feed over a game of chess. But he always sent the duty driver up to the mess to collect his share of the crays. Otherwise they might suspect him!