NZ416235 W/O Ernie Alexander (Navigator)
Part VI: To the Pacific
These experiences are from extracts of letters that I wrote to my grandfather Mr. A. K. Alexander of 15 Oakley Avenue, Hamilton, when I did my aircrew training in Canada.
[JS Note: After leave in the United States] Our journey back to Canada was non-stop, and we were posted to Halifax, for embarkation. When we arrived we found 7,000 fully trained aircrew waiting for their notices. We were stony broke and had to wait about 10 days for some pay. We had less than we should have had, because Mick Cassidy lost $25.00 and we helped him with his loss. And to cap it all, Colin Bailey was looking through his money belt as he did periodically, and found $2.00 just as our pay came. How we could have helped him spend that $2.00. A money belt was worn around your waist under your clothes and contained many compartments for your money. All servicemen were issued with these.
We stayed in Halifax for six weeks and had a good rest. The course was strenuous and the leave quite hectic, having travelled many thousands of miles. It was good to see some of our friends who trained at other stations in Canada. I don't think we went far afield in Halifax , because we were on 24 hour call. Bob Shewry was one of our course who never came to Halifax. He married a Canadian girl and was posted to the Bermudas. Later he operated from Ireland.
One thing that amused me was when a bottle of Coke formerly priced at 5 cents in a Coke machine, was increased to 6 cents. Their answer was to leave every sixth bottle empty. What a joke it was to be caught with a bottle of nothing.
In Halifax we had time to reflect on the past 10 months. What a wonderful training we had received, we all agreed the Empire Training Scheme was a great success. All the allied nations sent their airmen to Canada to train. In Toronto one station was called 'Little Norway', all the trainees had escaped from Norway in boats. There were Frenchmen, Belgians, Poles, Americans, and all the Empire nations.
Our mail was fairly regular, about six weeks to two months, and as far as I know I never lost any. Censors never worried us, as we soon learnt to keep any mention of the war or our movements out of them.
While in Halifax we received news that several of our mates who went to England as bombardiers were already killed in operations. It was a particularly bad patch in the war, with heavy raids. The Atlantic was also a hot spot with heavy submarine activity. We were told that batches of 20 airmen were being sent across on freighters, as that was the only way. We waited for our turn and then one day a call came. In alphabetical the names were read, Alexander, Bailey, Cowern and so on. We were off to England, we thought. As servicemen we were never told our destination. We said our hurried farewells, "see you on the other side", we cried. On the train and south we went. The next we knew we were in New York. An army truck backed up to our carriage, loaded us in like cattle, took us to the ship, repeated the performance, and the gang plank was up. It was night time and we soon settled into our bunks. The boat was the T.S.S. Akaroa. Next day we discovered we were heading South, but at this stage it did not mean a great deal. We were in a convoy, destroyers and cruisers as escorts, and aircraft and balloons overhead. What a contrast to ten months ago when we were on our own. during that period the German subs sank 400 ships in three months. The Americans didn't realise the reflected lights from the coastal cities were silhouetting shipping and the Germans just sat and waited and picked them off. However blackouts changed that.
In a day or two we knew we were headed for the canal again and it was the Pacific for us. In six weeks we were home and after a weeks leave sent onto the islands. First of all Wing Commander Freeman, later killed on Kittyhawks, interviewed us and said we would fly on Catalinas. What a thrill, on of the biggest planes about at that time.
[JS Note: NZ1026 Wg/Cmdr Trevor Freeman DSO DFC, officer commanding the RNZAF Fighter Wing, on 17 December 1943 flying P-40N Warhawk NZ3153/F and leading 24 aircraft, arrived over Rabaul 1030 hours. Was seen under attack by seven or eight enemy fighters at 1500 feet near Hunter Point, SW New Ireland. Lost without trace. Source Martyn, E.W., For your tomorrow, Vol. II]
Some of the boys were put on Hudsons and Venturas. So in due course I was a navigator on No. 6 F.B. Squadron in the Pacific.
A week in New Zealand soon went and we boarded the Matua for Suva. The temperature rose quickly as it was only a three day trip north. Everyone enjoyed sitting on the deck lapping up the sunshine. the meals were excellent and the cabins first class. shorts were donned on the second day and some of them did not fit too well. One chap, Bill Jordon, a short fat chap found his came below his knees. "If that is what they give me, I will wear them" he said, and he did. He subsequently became 2nd wireless operator in our crew.
It was a different feeling leaving home the second time. Most of the boys were quiet, nobody talked, just wandered to their cabins as the boat sailed. hard to explain how we all felt. Going to a war zone was different perhaps.
In Suva we were sent to Lauthala Bay, allotted wooden huts in a dispersal area. They were small but adequate, about two or four of us in each. One door and four wooden windows which we pushed outwards. We slept on stretchers and had a mosquito net suspended from the ceiling. when you piled into bed you made sure it was tucked in.
Coming direct from a Canadian winter we were all pretty pale even though we passed through the tropics. The mosquitos obviously knew this and enjoyed their feast. For the first ten days they simply ate us alive. They mostly attacked us in the evening when we were taking star shots. We were anxious to perfect our astro and practised quite a lot. In a few days I had my first flight as second navigator. We were aloft 7 1/2 hours and I thought this was terrific. Having meals in the air was a new experience. It made me realise that navigating a flying boat was no walkover and we were going to be real busy.
From the air the islands looked beautiful, the colours and coral reefs were terrific. Lauthala Bay was known as an Operational Training Unit.
It was strange being on a flying boat and landing on the water. The creak as the hull hit the water was quite strange, and if the landing was a bit off we would rise momentarily before we hit again.
After a trip or two I found to my delight I was not being airsick and this was a great relief. After my experience in Canada I wondered just how I would be. Throughout my flying career I was never ever sick again, even though others all around me were. I put it down to the fact that in Canada I was so anxious to do well I must have suffered some sort of nervous anxiety.
In due course we were crewed up, nine in all. My Skipper (First Pilot) was Bill Mackley DFC ...
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