Diary of Ernest Kenyon Alexander (Part VIII)

NZ416235 W/O Ernie Alexander (Navigator)

Part VIII: Espiritu Santo

These experiences are from extracts of letters that I wrote to my grandfather Mr. A. K. Alexander of Hamilton, N.Z. when I did my aircrew training in Canada.

Our Squadron moved to the New Hebrides after this, at a place called Espiritu Santo. It was a French - British Condominium, but all civilians had disappeared with the war. A few Chinese remained and lived in one area. They wandered around the camp looking for scraps of food. Occasionally hill tribes came down from the mountains on a searching mission. They carried bows and arrows and long knives, but appeared harmless. I can well remember watching them looking for souvenirs which had been discarded by us. One of them found a shoe far too big for him, but he hobbled around in it and was as proud as punch. When one found something they all darted in his direction. In peace time the island must have run several herds of cows. When we arrived they were just wandering about with calves of all ages suckling them. Espiritu Santo was the site of hundreds of acres of coconut plantations owned by Lever Bros., a rather pretty river named Renee went through the middle. We did a bit of exploring and travelled several miles up stream. The jungle was very thick and several places there were malaria mosquitos.

Our camp consisted of Quonset huts spread under coconut trees. The Americans had an excellent anti-malaria unit which kept a watch out for malaria spots. Our squadron was based in Segond Channel, a narrow inlet well sheltered. Warships of all kinds used it too and at times you could hardly move. Pilots had to be very careful landing and taking off. One of our boys, Colin Burgess, water-looped his plane one night and sheared the wing off when he hit a destroyer. A bomb landed on top of an engineer, he was seriously injured and eventually died. At the end of the channel there were submarine nets and another pilot collected one of these when he took off. Several of the crew were killed.

Our flying was mainly patrol work on a different sector every day. Sometimes we were engaged on hunter-killer exercises. This involved searching for a submarine during which aircraft were constantly in the area for 100 hours. Destroyers also patrolled, the idea was that the sub would have to come up sooner or later to charge its batteries and then have to face attack. On one occasion a sub was chased in a 20 mile radius for three weeks. It was attacked many times but crash dived. Eventually we heard no more and could only assume it was on the bottom for good.

We carried anti-submarine bombs on our wings, they were pre-set to go off at a certain depth.

The weather could be quite bad at times and most unpredictable, once it almost led to our undoing. I normally set a course from base, but this time skipper, Bill Mackley, said he would fly up the coast and I could give him a course from a certain Cape. All went well until we ran into a blinding storm, next thing we knew we were heading for a cliff face and Bill took wild evasive action with inches to spare. He must have almost tipped the plane over because everything ended up in the bilge. After this experience a course was set from base. On another occasion our plane developed engine trouble, but we got back without much bother. We found the catalinas were equipped with wonderful motors, they purred away for hours.

We saw little Japanese aerial activity in Santos. However on the anniversary of a certan Prince's death they sent a plane over and dropped a load of bombs. The only casualties were a lot of cows which got in the way.

One of the boys who came back from Canada with us, Ron Payne, was on a Ventura Squadron on the other side of the island. We visited him one day and he was most unhappy. His pilot was anything but safe and had been involved in several close shaves. "He will kill us all one day" he said, and in a couple of moths it happened. They took off the strip which was facing the sea and dived into the drink. all were lost. Ron had been home on leave a fortnight previously and was married during his few days off.

[JS Note: 9 June 1944 RNZAF Ventura NZ4564 captained by P/O Baird travelled from Vila to Santo and bounced when landing on an uneven part of the strip, on attempting to go around again the port wing struck trees and the a/c crashed and caught fire. NZ416152 W/O Ron Payne, 25 (Navigator), NZ414900 W/O Ryder Wakely, 27 (Wireless Op.), NZ4215747 Sgt Alec Miller, 19 (Air Gunner) and NZ40729 W/O Roy Tarrant, 26 (Air Gunner) were killed. Source: Martyn, E.W., For your tomorrow, Vol. II]

We lost several of another crew at Santos. F/O von Tunzleman was on detached flight to Funafuti Island [Tuvalu] and during take-off the second pilot misunderstood instructions with the throttles. They waterlooped, tore a wing off, and almost sank.

I spent a few days in an American base hospital towards the end of our stay in Santos. I contracted piles, and elected to have them removed by local anaesthetic. In the ward there were about 60 servicemen, mostly Americans. It was quite interesting because they represented about 25 nationalities. One chap fought for the Germans in the First World War when he was 16 years of age. Many of them only emigrated to America in recent years. They all had one thing in common, a great love of their new country.

After my discharge from hospital our squadron moved to Halavo Bay on Florida Island in the Solomons. Our crew was the first to arrive.

Diary of Ernest Kenyon Alexander (Part VII)

NZ416235 W/O Ernie Alexander (Navigator)

Part VII: Fiji and Tonga

These experiences are from extracts of letters that I wrote to my grandfather Mr. A. K. Alexander of Hamilton, N.Z. when I did my aircrew training in Canada.

In due course we were crewed up, nine in all. My Skipper (First Pilot) was Bill Mackley DFC. He went to England in 1939 and won his decoration on Whitleys. After we met I discovered I had seen him at a model aeroplane display in Harrisville in 1938. Our farm was next door. Bill joined the RNZAF immediately after and was on operations soon after the war started. He flew with N.A.C. and Air New Zealand for many years after the war.

Second Pilot was Ray Freeman, a brother to the Freeman who was a N.Z. representative cricketer . Ray was killed in a crash near the end of the war.

[JS Note: NZ428759 Raymond Freeman (age 31) On 27 January 1945 Captain of 6 Squadron PBY-5 Catalina NZ4022 took off from Lauthala Bay on test flight following major overhaul. Stalled at 5500 feet but failed to recover and crashed in the vicinity of Mbenga Island. Six passengers and crew escaped the wreckage and were rescued the following day but Warrant Officer Freeman, 2nd Pilot Walter Geary (31), Wireless Operator Frank Wilson (22), Air Gunner Walter Boss (21), Wireless Mechanic Ray Allen (26), Fitter Victor McKain (25), Fitter Eric McLeod (25), Radar Mechanic John Stafford (22), Instrument Mechanic John Stewart (20), Wireless Mechanic Brian Stone (23), Armourer Arthur Thomas (21), and Fitter Robert Wright (31) were lost. Source: Martyn, E.W., For your tomorrow, Vol. II]

First Wireless Operator Gus Knox was trained in Canada and came back with us and continued to fly after the war. Second Wireless Operator Bill Jordan became a barman after the war. The three engineers were Ralph Rigger (First Engineer), Jack Fox (Second Engineer) and Johnny Cowan (Third Engineer). They also took turns on watch and cooked the meals. The straight gunner was Frank Cox, he never liked Catalinas and eventually went onto Venturas.

Suva was quite interesting, but very hot. The meals were very good and all served by Indian boys who padded around in their bare feet. We met a number of families and played a little tennis and also visited the N.Z. Club. However we were only here a month and fairly busy training in our new planes.

One weekend we went to Navua and it was hilarious. We decided to hitch hike and managed the thirty miles in five lifts. To our amazement we found the town consisted of a hotel and two stores. The hotel would not give us a bed because they were short of water and the proprietor and his wife had a violent disagreement. It was well into the afternoon and too late to return to Suva. Eventually a District Commissioner took pity on us. He gave us a Bure, native house, to sleep in. It consisted of one room and all made of thatched material. The roof was about a foot thick and you could see the stars through it. We met the Fijian Chief, a rather big chap and very kind. He detailed a boy called Joey to prepare our beds, which consisted of laying huge mats on the floor. We lay on them in our uniforms, and although very hard slept fairly well. When we woke we found we had spent the evening with feathered friends. A hen and a clutch of chickens were wandering around and in another corner there was a nest of eggs. Next morning we swam in the sea for our morning wash and were invited to breakfast with the District Commissioner. It was very decent of him, because by this time our four had increased to nine, including two stranded Americans.

We went back to Suva in a 'Wog Wagon', a derogative term for a service car driven by the Indians. It only cost us four schillings each. The trip to Navua was our only leave from Suva.

Getting used to flying in Catalinas did not take too long. Once we became accustomed to all the new instruments we were right. This took about 20 hours flying time.

Several aspects of Fiji were quite interesting. One was 'Peanut Alley', a picture theatre where all the locals went, Europeans, Indians, Fijians and Chinese. They ate peanuts all through the performance, and when the show was over the floor was literally covered in shells. Poor cleaner. Another theatre was more sophisticated. Then there were the football games. The Fijians just loved it and played in bare feet. I will never forget the tremendous kicking, it seemed as if they tried to beat one another in reaching the heavens.

Native laundries were quite a thing with all the servicemen about. The charge of 4/- per month was not too bad. However their methods were quite crude, hitting the clothes with sticks or swinging them over their shoulders onto a lump of wood or a rock. Just as well they were made of tough material. A lot of the dirt seemed to remain in the clothes.

An interesting experience was hearing a Japanese plane flying over one night. It was an exceedingly black night and I can remember very clearly hearing the strange motor and seeing the exhaust flame, but nothing else. Several of us saw it. Planes from Nausori went up to intercept but couldn't find it. subsequently we found it was a float plane from a Japanese submarine and was sunk at Noumea three weeks later.

Mail in Fiji was very prompt, only a matter of days. A contrast to Canada which took weeks. A lot of our Canadian mail posted after we left for home caught up with us in Suva.

I caught Dengue Fever while in Suva, a type of Malaria, but non recurring. With a temperature of 104 degrees you felt miserable. Like flu your bones ache and you come out in spots like measles. Later some of your hair comes out.

TONGA

Our first operational flight was at Tonga. Apparently there was a lot of Japanese submarine activity south of the islands, the route of the American convoys. We did patrol duty, flying on a different sector each day. All trips reached double figures in hours, and it was quite tiring rising at four o'clock in the morning.

We lived in Quonset huts, our first experience, and found them quite good. They held about 25 airmen, had a wooden floor and a half circle roof. They were all prefab, and could be made any size. We slept on camp stretchers and found boxes to put our gear in. A mosquito net and a blanket was our sole bedding. Tonga had a pleasant climate, at least when I was there. At night a pullover was all that was needed to make up for the loss of heat from the sun.

After we left Tonga an American troopship was sunk and it was a shocking affair. It carried about 1200 soldiers and over half were lost. Johnny McGrane was on patrol for about 20 hours circling the area. The water was smothered with bodies, oil was everywhere and it caught alight. The ship was on fire several hours before it sank. He said the whole sky was lit up. (See Sinking of the San Juan, by Bill Leadley )

Prior to the detached flight I did two travel trips to Tonga. Our cargo included 15 passengers, six live pigs, eight carcases of mutton one duck, and numerous bunches of bananas. Another time we had 24 passengers.

I never returned to Tonga, but was associated with a Tongan prince later on. His name was Bert Tupou and was educated at Wesley College. He was a pilot and well liked by everyone.

[JS Note: George 'Alipate Tupou volunteered for service in the RNZAF in 1941 and was awarded his flying badge in June of 1943. In September, he was posted to the RNZAF base at Laucala Bay in Fiji joining No. 6 Flying Boat Squadron. He was promoted to Flight Sergeant in early 1944 and was commissioned as a Pilot Officer in the NZ Airforce in September of that year. He served in different parts of the South Pacific for a year up to 1944. Pilot Officer Tupou was posted to the RNZAF Reserve of Officers in November of the same year. Elevated to the Tongan nobility as Baron Vaea during the course of his service, Pilot Officer Tupou was one of many Pacific Islanders who fought in the Allied cause in World War II. Source: http://69.64.79.247/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=1866&Itemid=57]

Our Squadron moved to the New Hebrides after this, at a place called Espiritu Santo ...

Memoirs of Arthur Manz

Arthur Manz
Otaki
8 June 1992

Of my course of Airman Pilots (No.1A) about half were retained in N.Z. to become flying instructors, (32 ÷ 2 = 16), attending F.I.S. at Hobsonville.

Time spent at Taieri was very busy indeed. We worked hard, my busiest month was 112.40 hours in March 1941, most being in the 80 - 90 hr. range with 140 - 150 dual instruction flights! Dunedin was very hospitable and flying 'wash out' days were spent in town where the Otago Squash Racquets Club made their courts available to us, the to Wain's Hotel followed by a meal down town & then possibly to the Regent Theatre. Senior instructors, Flight Commanders & above were all ex-aero club chaps, and although serious and devoted to their responsibilites they brought a Camaraderie to the camp which brought out the best in us all.

The group released from instructing before my turn all elected to go onto fighters and were trained on Kittyhawks & posted to the Pacific Islands. My wish was to go to the U.K. so when my turn came I asked for heavy bombers, knowing they had none in R.N.Z.A.F. They forthwith posted me to Waipapakauri to fly patrols with V. Vincents & Vildebeestes! In time no-one would sign these out as airworthy & the Squadron (7) was disbanded. These planes were just like Tiger Moths but ten times bigger. Part of our task was the escorting of boats in & out of Auckland, meeting them off C. Brett. Most were cargo vessles, a few naval. On one flight - I think it was the one on 6.4.43 "Outer A/S Patrol - Presidents Adams, Hayes, & Coolidge & two destroyers" with F/O Ritchie & Sgt. Webb-Pullman - it was not possible to get any response at all to our Aldis lamp challenge with the letter of the day. I sent the message - Can anyone read Morse? The correct letter cam back promptly. On reflection it would appear that on sighting our huge old bi-plane they all fell down in a fit of apoplexy, and only replied to keep us quiet.

Going from Vincents to Venturas on Ferry Command was a tremendous shock. Never had I seen such an array of instruments & controls. Fortunately F/O Alf Arnott knew more about such planes & I became a mere throttle holder. But it was good experience. Just one trip from Kaneohe Bay, Oahu, to Whenuapai via Palmyra & Canton Is. to Nausori to Tontouta (petrol fault), to Norfolk & N.Z.

The Seaplane Training Flight was rare fun. They don't build planes like the Walrus any more. On take off - Full R rudder and L aileron (or was it the other way?) to counter the torque. And at night the straight exhaust ports from the radial engine gave the appearance of a giant catherine wheel - the only plane which I have flown with a 4 - blade pusher prop. My flying partner was Geo. Scholes and on one of our last flights I thought that it would be a good idea to try an 'emergency' landing on Lake Pupuke on the North Shore. No Problem! But once on the water the take off run looked very short with the high volcanic rim rising up and covered with houses. There was no problem however. We kept quiet about the escapade, but in the mess the night before our departure S/Ldr Bill Willis made veiled reference to it - just to let us know that he knew - but didn't wish to take the matter further.

The G.R. School at New Plymouth was value for money. Work was the order of the day, and the knowledge gained proved invaluable later in the Pacific, especially navigation (D.R. & Astro), signals & W/T, ship recognition & much more. Some of the Astro Nav results were a bit hairy (ask Russ Carleton) putting the Bell Block aerodrome as much as 50 miles out to sea! But nevertheless I managed 95%.

At Lauthala Bay Dave Sheehan was training as Captain and I became his 2nd Pilot doing some solo work myself under the tutelage of F/O Dan Carlow (who entered the Air Force with me in 1940) We joined the Squadron 19.12.43 at Segond Channel just as they were about to move to Halavo Bay - we flew up there 23.12.43.

Flying alongside Dave Sheehan in the Squadron was valuable learning experience, his thoroughness, reliability, unflappability were examples for me to remember. Most searches & patrols were routine but one take off experience will never be forgotten. After slipping the buoy Dave taxied out to the appropriate position, tested the motors, opened the throttles and away we went. But half way along our run, unusual porpoising was occurring the plane was reluctant to get up on the step to gather speed by planeing, and it was only by holding the yoke hard against the panel that Dave was eventually able to become airborne. And thus it continued until we were up a few hundred feet. Obviously something was wrong, but we knew not what it was. It was only when a crew member opened the bulkhead door at the rear of the blister that the reason became obvious. Water poured through the door into the blister compartment - gallons & gallons of it. The bottom hatch used for drift taking with a bombsight had not been securely locked, and each time aircraft porpoised a 'mouthful' of water was scooped up, to be locked in by its own weight on the hatch until the next porpoise. The total quantity could only be estimated - perhaps 50 - 100 gallons - certainly enough to radically upset the trim. This security 'oversight' could probably be attributed to a crew member who on entering the aircraft & not long out of bed, hastily relieved himself through the hatch which he opened. This was not unusual in itself but this time the result was, well shall we say 'educational'!

Whilst at Lauthala Bay in March 1944 undergoing training while getting my own crew, it became necessary to evacuate several Cats from the path of an advancing hurricane. I'm not sure how many planes took off - 4 or 5 perhaps - heading for Noumea, my co-pilot being F/Lt. Jack Butcher. After a day there, the advancing storm made us go further. Jack had to take over another crew and my No. 2 then became 'Bert' Tupou.

[JS Note: Hon. 'Alipate Halakilangi Tau’alupeoko Tupou (1st Baron Vaea of Houma, 15th Vaea), born 15th May 1921, Baron Vaea of Houma [cr.1970] by HM the King of Tonga, appointed to the title of Vaea on 16th May 1942, educated in Tonga and at Wesley College, Auckland, served in the RNZAF 1942/1945, member of the Tonga Civil Service 1945/53, ADC to HM Queen Salote 1954/59, Governor of Ha'apai 1959/68, Commissioner and Consul in UK 1969, first High Commissioner to London 1970/72, 1st Minister for Labour, Commerce and Industries 1972/1991, acted as Deputy Prime Minister on numerous occasions, and as Minister of Education and Civil Aviation, and of Finance, 11th Prime Minister of Tonga 1991- 2000, married 1952, Tuputupukipulotu Ma'afu, born 1920. He died 7th June 2009.].

We landed in the Brisbane River, just below the town, next day heading south to R.A.A.F. Seaplane Base at Rathmines. Their hospitality was overwhelming. They flew us in their Cats for an overnight stay in Sydney (40 in the plane I was in), after which we returned to Lauthala Bay by the Rathmines - Noumea route. The officer in charge? S/Ldr Maggie Makgill! A fortnight later we rejoined the Squadron at Halavo, whereupon F/Lt Butcher got his own crew - he had considerable experience as a test pilot in N.Z. and 2nd pilot was far below his ability level. P/O Fred Whillans took his place beside me, having previously been a radio operator on Tasman Empire Airways.

Much of our flying was routine - patrols, searches, shipping escorts & supply trips to radar stations. It was not unusual for the pilot of a U.S. transport plane en route from the States to report a possible submarine sighting in our vicinity. We then had to cover that area with an expanding search for 3 days. At times our crews would report a whale or a floating tree or log at the reported position, but higher command on Guadalcanal always decreed that the search continue. Occasionally they would cancel the search early, perhaps about midnight so that all their staff could go to bed (?), leaving the search plane & its crew airborne until daylight came enabling us to land (Halavo had no night flying facilities). This did not endear them to us, although on one occasion we decided to fill in the hours with a joint up to Ontong Java Reefs. We could discern the white surf breaking on the reefs in the night light before returning to Halavo at dawn. On our descent from about 6 - 8000 ft (?) into the lower warm humid air the whole aircraft interior, skin & equipment, was dripping wet with condensation. I was quite concerned lest a short occurred in the electrical circuitry causing mal-function or at worst, a fire. Fortunately no problem occurred.

We periodically took supplies & mail to the N. tip of Malaita Is (C. Astrolabe??) and on one occasion after securing our plane to the strop of the mooring buoy, we cut the motors and most of the crew went ashore where a vehicle waited to take them to the coast-watching station. I stayed aboard with an engineer (either Sam Parry of Mac McPherson) and relaxed, expecting to wait for half an hour or so. No hurry - it was a pleasant day. However it soon became apparent that the island was slowly moving away from us. We were adrift, with the strop, buoy, cable and the seabed anchor weight all suspended from our keel. Not a happy situation to be in! By starting both engines, heading back to where the buoy had been anchored and then giving the motors full throttle for a short burst, the anchor weight was dragged some way up the sandy (?) bottom sufficient to hold us until the other crew members came aboard again. Back at Halavo Bay we reported "N. Malaita buoy - insecure".

Periodic engine changes for our squadron were done at the U.S. Naval Air Force Base on ile Nou, Noumea Harbour. The liberty barge across to Noumea jetty was popular, as was La Grande Hotel du Pacifique, fruit machines and all. On one occasion, I had difficulty making the beaching buoy at the slipway on Ile Nou, due to a very strong on shore wind and a rocky foreshore. Although holding the plane out of wind with starboard drogue and port motor I could not judge the buoy close enough for the bowman to pick up the floating strop. The pilots' hatches were back for better visability and the U.S. beaching crew ready to enter the water with the beaching wheels. On my second attempt, very slowly and carefully, I missed again, but the beaching party thought we had succeeded and entered the water with the gear. My co-pilot, P/O Fred Whillans, saw what was happening and, standing up, waved his arm to indicate to them we had missed again. Unfortunately the starboard prop. hit his fingers damaging them quite badly, but I was not immediately aware of this. Navigator, F/O Jack Lockington, got the Radio Operator to call the shore base and an ambulance was waiting when we made the buoy on the third attempt. Fred was in the U.S. Naval hospital there for some time, followed by leave in N.Z., before returning to his seat beside me as a valued crew member - with slightly stiff fingers, I recall! After that engine change in NZ 4008 'Lockie' was both navigator and second pilot to Lauthala Bay, and again on the return to Halavo in NZ 4018 via Santo (June 5 - 16, 1944).

A very enjoyable trip, made several times, was to the Stewart Islands, some 2 hours flying time eastwards from Halavo. The inhabited island was at the pointed part of a pear-shaped coral reef, there being three very small islands at the 'blunt' end. Landing in the lagoon was easy, the water being flat calm, but to taxi towards the beach on the island was unnerving as the water was of such clarity that the coral heads always appeared as though they would rupture the plane's hull, whereas on a lead-line measure they could be anything up to 30 ft. or more below the surface. The natives were delightful, much fairer skinned than the Solomon Islanders we had seen open & friendly by nature, readily paddling their canoes to meet us after we dropped anchor. Their lives appeared to be simple & satisfying. On one trip I took several U.S. Naval Officers. They brought with them some supplies from a U.S. hospital on Guadalcanal which I understood had closed down - tinned meat, candles, lengths of cotton material and such like - and the islanders were delighted with these gifts. Before the war, one of these officers had captained a ship which had relocated a good many of the natives to the mainland in order to relieve overcrowding on the island & the consequent pressure on their available food supply. Imagine the pleasure & excitement when the officer produced recent photographs showing the same people, now some years older and by remarks & gestures, the younger ones had grown much taller.

We shared Halavo Base with a U.S. Cat Squadron, and our daily sector patrols were shared with them, each plane covering a 9° sector for an outward distance of 650 miles then across for 50 (?) miles, and 650 miles return. The general direction of the area covered was towards Nauru Is. occupied by Jap forces, so needless to say, the 50 miles across the top was done as close to the water as possible to avoid radar detection, for their land-based planes (e.g. Bettys) would have been more than a match for our flying boats. However, the Squadron Dumbo board records some outstanding rescues made by crews from No. 6 Squadron whilst on such patrols. My Dumbo rescue on 1.5.44 was much more mundane. A crew member on a U.S. freighter was sick (appendicitis?) and my crew went to pick him up off the Southern point of Malaita Is. The sea was moderate so there was no great difficulty there. It was mcuch more worrying when after cutting the motors a short distance from the ship, they brought the patient towards the plane in what resembled a very solid heavy ships life boat. I feared for our plane as they came towards the blister, lest their vessel puncture the plane's skin. There was much manoeuvering & fending off before the seaman on his stretcher was man-handled aboard. The flight to Lunga Point was uneventful.

I am sure that aircrew had the best of life at Halavo. Whether flying or enjoying a day off we could generally beat the heat, whereas ground crews, especially those servicing planes, had no means of escape. The interior was like an oven. Some servicing was done with the Cat in a nose hangar which provided shade and platforms of varying heights.

Beaching crews were slick operators. Before props stopped turning they were into the water witht he beaching gear which was rapidly attached, as was the towing cable attached to the tractor. There was a competition to determine the fastest crew. I do not know the winning time but it was probably under a minute.

The U.S. Malarial control team were ever alert, spraying puddles and stagnant pools and supervising the disposal of tins and other receptacles - any possible mosquito breeding place. Atabrine tablets (and salt tablets) were always on the meal table, and i do not recall anyone on our base contracting the disease, but we all did change appearance to an atabrine yellow.

Our evenings were usually spent enjoying a cool drink in the mess and many hours were spent around the piano singing songs of various shades of colour. Reading, letterwriting and washing clothes were other pastimes. There was some wild life about. Centipedes 6 - 10" long, and W/Com John Agar can testify to their poisonous ferocity after he attempted to put on a flying boot which was occupied. They could sometimes be seen crawling across the inside of our hut walls. Mosquito nets gave us some sense of security.

A visit to our outdoor movie cinema was best on fine, dark nights. Moonlight on the screen was a disaster. Rain or wind were less than welcome - they added to the discomfort experienced when sitting on coconut logs throughout a feature film. Those with Jeeps could have more comfort, parked on the roadway behind the 'auditorium'. A visit from an American U.S.O. (??) group was something really special! Metropolitan Opera stars comprised one group, and after being entertained by the V.I.P's, they duly appeared on the stage in front of the cinema screen. We may have been a great distance away from civilisation and its conventions but one custom was not overlooked.. F/Lt. Selwyn Field was prepared for the occasion, having prepared a presentation sheaf of wild flowers, and in the presence of all camp personnel he confidently walked down the centre aisle, mounted the platform and presented his token of respect & admiration to the lady in the group. Sel got raspberries & laughter from the troops who were doubtless not used to such 'cultural' behaviour, but he didn't bat an eye as he smilingly returned to his seat.

After leaving the squadron, Hobsonville's Seaplane Training Flight was like a comfortable retirement including a variety of duties such as testing, taxi driving to other dromes, islands and searches. The war was over, but New Zealanders overseas found it difficult to get back home. On 21.12.45 I took a Hobsonville Cat to Rose Bay, Sydney (10.25 hrs), returning on 28.12.45 to Mechanics Bay, Auckland (9.45 hrs) with a full load. A radio failure in Australia meant a trip to Rathmines to obtain a replacement unit. Months later, questions were asked as I had signed for it.

After marriage to Betty Field (Sel's cousin) in Auckland on 5.1.46, I was posted to No. 5 Squadron in Fiji, arriving on 25 January. My wife was not permitted to fly in R.N.Z.A.F. aircraft, so she made the trip on the island supply ship R.C.S. "VITI", a very small vessel, once the Fiji governor's yacht. After checking with the Suva office about shipping position & ETA, we thought it appropriate to do a 'navigation & interception' exercise to meet the Viti about 100 miles out. A bunch of flowers was put in a paper bag & suitably inscribed, and after a few low passes over the ship we commenced our 'bombing' run. But the trajectory of a paper bag had us fooled and the missile fell short into the sea.

To her great embarrassment, Betty had been thrust up onto the bridge and to her greater embarrassment the Captain (JS Note: John 'Jack' Cummings) turned the ship about to retrieve the floating bag of flowers using a long boat hook. It was a warm welcome to Fiji. After a week staying in the Grand Hotel we moved into a house at Suva Point and were immediately invited into the local cocktail circuit, but we soon realised that the pace was too great for us. We enjoyed station life under W/Com John Bray and were never short of good company.

On 1 April 1946 three Cats were dispatched to New Caledonia to search for a U.S. R4D aircraft missing from Guadalcanal to Noumea. We searched for a week but without success, the crashed plane later being found in bush high on the N. slopes of New Caledonia. I recall hearing that aboard was a V.I.P. naturalist who had been researching and collecting in the S.W. Pacific. On the first days search the weather deteriorated to such an extent that it was deemed wise to land in the sheltered Touho Bay (N.E. Coast) where we spent the night swinging at anchor. CNB Noumea expressed his high appreciation, donating binoculars to each captain and an iced water machine for the Lauthala Bay hangar (tricky to get it into the blister compartment from a boat!)

My last Air Force flight was when Betty & I returned to Auckland in a Sunderland, captained by Dan Carlow assisted by Russ Carleton, Bill Mackley and Gus Knox, on 30 Sept. 1946.

Sinking of the San Juan, by Bill Leadley

It all started on the 8th of November 1943, when Crew 5 of No. 6 Flying Boat Squadron was taken off patrol section search operations to fly a skeleton crew down to the Ile Nous Naval Air Station, Noumea, New Caledonia. The purpose of the flight was to pick up a PBY5 Catalina flying boat, No. 4017 XXT which had undergone extensive repairs over the last month under the supervision of Flight Sergeant Jack Bartlett. Squadron Leader McGill with skeleton crew was to fly her back to Espritu Santo (a welcome break from flying operations).

Crew 5 members were as follows:
Captain: John Macgrane of Auckland (Flying Officer).
2nd Pilot: Sgt. Harry Farmiloe of Auckland.
1st Wireless Operator: Flight Sgt. Abb Ormesby of Auckland.
2nd Wireless Operator: Flight Sgt. Larry Heath of Waimate.
Navigator: Pilot Officer Ross Laurenson of Wellington.
Chief Air Gunner: Sgt. Walter Leadley of Wellington.
Chief Flight Engineer: Sgt. Ralph Rigger of Hamilton.
2nd Flight Engineer: Sgt. Noel Melvill of Timaru.
3rd Flight Engineer: Sgt. Jack Wakeford of Wellington.

0755 hours - 8th November
Given the green light from the sea plane tender, the U.S.S. Wright. Within minutes we were airborne from seagone [sic] channel Espiritu Santo and heading south. Landing XXR in the harbour of Noumea at 1255 hours, we buoyed up at Ile Nous Naval Air Station. At 1400 hours we boarded a Nats Barge which transported us to Noumea for a look at the town. We had just begun to enjoy ourselves in this very French town with its very public toilets and quaint little wine shops, when a couple of jeeps pulled up by us, manned by American M.P.s. Their only comment was "Nu Zealand Airmen? Get in" !! We didn't argue as they were armed. Back on the docks into a Nats barge and whisked back to the island of Ile Nous, marched straight into the American Navy briefing room, where we were informed XXT was fueled up and armed with four 250lb depth charge plus ammo and food.
We were to proceed once airborne to a position off the coast of New Caledonia where we would rendezvous with a convoy of 14 ships and conduct a square search around and ahead of her. A torpedo attack had been made on this convoy by a Japanese sub only four hours before.

1820 hours
Airborne again with a difference in the crew - Squadron Leader McGill had taken over as Second Pilot, Sgt. Jack Bartlett as Chief Engineer, Sgt. Ron Snodgrass of Nelson, a Chief Flight Engineer assisting. Sgt. Rigger and Harry Farmiloe stayed with XXR and held her in a state of readiness.
Rendezvous with convoy around 2000 hours and proceeded with square search. Flying at 6000 feet we took turns at radar watch. Chief Engineer Sgt. Bartlett reports malfunction of temperature gauge starboard motor. The square search started at the convoy, built up to the longest leg of a square (being a square of 100 miles long), then we reversed the procedure till we were back with the convoy, then away we would go again.

0100 hours
It was a bright moonlight night with a little cloud around, the sea was rough and a high wind was blowing. The crew was getting pretty tired and the roar of the twin 1250 h.p. Pratt and Whitney engines had a tendency to mesmerise or woo one to sleep. We were back on the 100 mile leg, only this time the Skipper was using George (the Automatic Pilot). Suddenly the starboard motor lost power and while the pilots were busy getting George disengaged the aircraft went into a flat spin. Sitting in the blister compartment I was suddenly pushed hard up against the bulkhead. Looking down I could see the sea springing up towards me at an alarming pace and I thought of my parachute in its rack only six feet away, but the force of gravity (or in this case centrifugal force) kept me forced into the corner. Somehow I managed to get my Mae West out from under the seat I was on, then I set to, to get the blister open. I broke just about every fingernail opening, and at 1800 feet it came open. The aircraft shuddered violently, gradually stopped spinning and at 500 feet Flying Officer McGrane had control again. I wasted no time putting on my parachute harness and placing my chute under my seat; likewise other members of the crew were doing the same. I had barely sat down when power faded again, only this time Johnny McGrane was ready for it. The flying boat went into a large yaw and then held course again - down in the tail end it was like being on the end of a large pendulum and 5 minutes later it happened again. I slipped forward to just below the tower. I grabbed Sgt. Bartlett's leg, he took his earphones off and bent down. "What gives?" I yelled. His reply "Number one plug is loose, possibly out". I returned to the blister compartment, plugged in my intercom and waited. The reassuring voice of Squadron Leader McGill came through, "I say chaps, nothing to worry about, just a little water in the carburettor, but just in case put your chutes on" !!! After a couple of hours and several dozen yaws I came to the conclusion two things were radically wrong. 1. My stomach wasn't as strong as I thought it was, and 2. If I didn't move forward smartly I would leave my supper all over the ceiling.
I made my way forward to the front gun turret and slowly regained my equilibrium. We stayed with the convoy until daylight, then returned to Noumea, landing at 0610 hours. (Note: No further attack was made on the convoy).
Footnote. Shortly after the starboard motor lost power, Flight Sgt. W.A.G. Ormesby made contact with Ile Nous Air Station, informing of them of our situation. Their advice was to return to Noumea, point the nose out to sea and bale out. We could not land as a high wind was blowing. the flare path would not hold and there was too much shipping in the harbour. (Had we bailed out with that high wind God only knows where we would have finished up). Now straight to the ablution block, a shower and then some breakfast, afterwards to commune with Morpheus for a long, long time. But it was not to be. The 500 hours check was due on XXR.
We had been awake since 0530 hours the day before, and had flown 16 hours 10 minutes. Airborne again at 0805 hours, this time with our original crew on board. At least Sgt. Farmiloe and Jack Rigger had had a night's sleep.
We landed at Lauthala Bay, Fiji, 7 hours 5 minutes later, on 9th November. After debriefing most of the crew hit the sack and slept until late afternoon, on the 10th. On the morning of the 11th of November, Crew 5 boarded XXR, gave her a good clean up and individually did all the checks, made sure all personal effects were packed up and left her for her 500 hours check by the team of expert ground crews.
On that afternoon we went into Suva and let off steam, but fortunately most of us were back at base by 10.00 p.m. Little did we realise that the events of the next 36 hours would affect us all for some time to come.
On the morning of the 12th November we were on standby to fly 4021 back to Espiritu Santo as soon as she had been test flown; however a malfunction on the run-up meant delay. I reported to sick bay as I found I was partially deaf in one ear. The flight Sgt. took a look - "yes, I can fix that". Out comes a syringe full of water and after several squirts, "Thanks Flight, that's great, I can hear again - what came out?" "Two frogs and a ton of wax", was Flight Sgt.'s reply, "Where were you last night?". At 11.45 I walked into Sergeants' Mess and at 12.10 the Orderly Sergeant arrived. "Crew 5 at readiness? Quad waiting to take you to briefing in 3 minutes". "Hold on Sergeant, is this the test flight?". "No way", replied the Sergeant, "it's on ops".
I ran to my quarters, grabbed my flying kit, plus gas mask, water bottle and Luger pistol. On the way down to briefing, somebody volunteered the information that a troop ship had been torpedoed 100 miles south of Tonga. At briefing we learned that the San Juan, carrying some 1,429 service personnel was torpedoed at 0900 hours. One torpedo in her engine room and one in her No. 1 hold.
F/O Stan Kirk of Auckland replaced our Navigator, P/O Ross Laurenson of Seatoun, Wellington - a welcome break for Ross as he was really tired. We were airborne by 1250 hours and arrived in the area at 16.20 hours, it being covered by a tropical rain storm. There was only one approach and that was a low level run at 70 feet. We levelled out and even then visibility was poor, but any lower was dangerous as we could have run into the stricken ship.
We had covered about four miles when suddenly there was a clear patch in the weather. What a slight unfolded before us! Hundreds of men in the sea below us and many, many more crammed onto bits of timber, life rafts, Carley floats, duck boards and pitifully few life boats. Off to the left, and right, on the edge of the rain, was a liberty ship [JS Note: 1561 SS Edwin T. Meredith] with landing nets or cargo nets over the side. The captain of the ship was steaming very slowly through the survivors. Many were able to climb up the nets to safety; however, he did not stop for fear of being torpedoed himself. When he cleared the rain squall - full steam for Noumea, we spotted a few seconds later the Martin Mariner, a Pan American Airways flying boat, but were unable to make radio contact with her. We estimated a 16 foot swell was running. It had picked up some forty-plus men and was not happy about taking off as he had damaged his starboard float. We continued flying around in a tight sweep, flying very low; some survivors waved to us and others I sadly noted were floating face down in their life jackets. Harry Farmiloe's came through the intercom system. "Stand by, the PBM is going to attempt to take off". We all offered a prayer for any wounded and the passengers in that aircraft as we knew full well what they would go through in the next 2 to 3 minutes.
The Mariner turned into the wind, looking like a massive bird with her gull wing and twin tail, and then I became alarmed that she was riding too low in the water. I racked my brains on aircraft recce - yes, she had a carrying capacity of only about three tons, with 40-plus men on, at least an extra 1 1/2 tons!!
She was now riding the swell and gaining speed into the wind, leaving a white trail of foam behind her. Suddenly she altered course to port, thus giving a little more lift to the damaged float on the starboard wing.
At this point she started to go through the tops of the swells, the tips of her propellors striking the sea, sending up great clouds of spray. The revs of the motor would drop rapidly, then as she went into the trough she would build up to full revs again, repeating the performance again and again, until sufficient speed and wind built up under the wings to give her lift, then she started hitting the tops of the swell with a mighty thump, leaving a trail of evenly-spaced white patches of foam behind her. Suddenly they ceased and, thank God, she was airborne.
Navigator, a new course for American flying boat base Tonga, and we were on our way climbing to 2000 feet; still lots of cloud, and poor visibility and we did not make a visual sighting of the stricken ship.

1730 hours
Landed at flying boat base Tonga, secured aircraft to buoy and awaited arrival of double ender boat. "You guys want supin?" came from two American sailors. "Yes please, fuel and depth charges". "Well, hell, the officer is away on leave. Anyway you want it, you've got it - might take a while though".
The barge finally arrived and we topped up the fuel tanks. Then while we were waiting for the depth charges we managed to get some tea which consisted mainly of spam and dehydrated this or that. The four depth charges duly arrived sitting in their cradles in the bottom of a Nats barge and at the same time the wind and the rising sea.
Flight Engineer Sgt. Rigger and Wakeford, the two Americans and myself managed two depth charges under the port wing. When we started on the starboard side the fun really began. The rising sea now a 2-foot chop rose to a 6-foot chop. The wind made the Nats barge do everything but stand still, unscrewing the protecting plate; fixing and lowering the hoist wasn't so bad, but when we took up the slack and started raising the 250lb depth charge a wave would pass under the boat, which slammed the boat up against the depth charge with considerable force, smashing the ply flooring.
The second and third wave made a shambles of more flooring as the barge had shifted position on each wave. Two things went through my mind: 1. How sensitive was the explosive?, 2. There was every likelihood of the depth charge going through the bottom of the barge.
After a very hairy performance we finally got the last one into position. By the time circuits were locked up it was dark, so another long wait while the flare path was laid out. Example - a number of 3-foot clingy type boats with an electric light on the top of a 5-foot pole powered by battery. These boats were anchored about a chain apart in a straight line directly into the wind.

2210 hours
Airborne at last, all feeling a little seasick. Within half an hour we sighted the torpedoed ship, about 20 miles away and burning brightly. Throughout the night we would use her as a bearing. Our job was to conduct a radar search and keep that sub down or sink her.
The night dragged on and the twin Pratt and Whitney engines droned on. Relentlessly, again and again we returned to the burning ship and started yet another square search. Sgt. Harry Farmiloe had decoded a message notifying us to expect a destroyer [JS Note: USS McCalla] and two sub-chasers in the area by daylight. We were to direct them to the survivors and that was another two hours away.

It was in the first light of dawn that we first spotted them. Just a voice on the intercom said "On the starboard quarters". I strained my eyes in that direction but all I could see were the black spots that I had seen on occasions for the last three hours, but wait, we were losing height and those spots were turning into blotches as we got closer, then the blotches turned into men standing on rafts, some waist deep in water. We climbed away from them and set course for the blimp on the radar screen some fifty miles away. About twenty minutes later we spotted the destroyer and sub-chasers. An enemy sub would have been bad news for the survivors at this stage of the flight. Flight Sgt. Heath came into the blister compartment, plugged in the aldis lamp and signalled the destroyer's given course and distance to reach survivors. The destroyer responded immediately and off we went to case the area of sea where the survivors were.
We came over them at 3000 feet and discovered that during the night they had spread out over an area of approximately five square miles. We flew right around the perimeter, then turned into the centre where there was a great number of life rafts. It was at this point that Sgt. Melville pointed out to the skipper the presence of sharks. The first pack appeared below and to the right, some 25 to 30 sharks moving inwards just below the surface; we were down to 500 feet and closing in, the first rafts very close now.
The second pack of sharks loomed up, only this time they were right on the surface, the centre of the pack thrashing the water and then, to my horror, I saw the two grey life jackets in the middle of the white water. Down to 100 feet we passed over the first of the rafts. Twenty to twenty-five men were standing in a tight bunch shoulder to shoulder up to their waists in the sea and the outline of rafts could be seen below them, the sheer weight having submerged it. Floating around the rafts were from four to nine men, some face down, then an astounding thing happened. After being in that exhausting position for twenty-one hours they each raised an arm very carefully not to upset the next fellow on the raft and waved to us. In the next few minutes we had passed some twenty rafts in a similar situation and they all waved. I believe it was their way of saying "thank you" for staying with us all night.
The intercom crackled. "Air Gunner stand by with the 05s will you, we'll give the sharks something else to occupy them". Quickly I locked the bulkhead doors, opened both blisters and switched on the reflector sights. Sgt. Farmiloe's voice came on the intercom, "Portside coming up, Bill". Unclipping the port browning machine gun I swung the barrel over the side, pulled the breech block back and let it fly forward taking the first half-inch armour piercing bullet into the breech, then I braced my legs as we went into a vertical bank. Suddenly the sharks were plum in the middle of the reflector sight, no lead was necessary as we were now doing a tight turn around them. I pressed the firing mechanism, putting three bursts of 25 rounds into the pack. One or two of the wounded sharks leapt right out of the water and when they fell back in the other sharks just tore them to pieces, the water coloured and turned pink, the carnage I had caused below was completed. We moved on quickly shooting up some ten packs of sharks. Some packs were swimming too deep, these we passed by. It was while we were moving onto the next pack that I spotted the duckboard. It was on the extreme out perimeter of the survivors with one man clinging to it, his legs in the water but his torso was on the board. He raised one arm and waved to us and a few minutes later we passed over a long beam with five men sitting on it and seven in the sea holding onto it and not far away three more floating face down.
At last the Destroyer and sub-chaser had arrived. We circled her while she made the first pick-up, landing nets over the side and three tiers of three sailors starting at water line to assist these exhausted men up to the deck. The destroyer stopped, then she rolled, the first two tiers of sailors disappeared under water and a minute later she rolled the opposite way, up came the sailors and each one was hanging onto a man. She rolled again and 15 to 20 men were on the nets, eager hands helping them over the rail to safety, where their clothes were stripped off them and they were taken below for a shower as most were covered in oil or diesel fuel.
The picking up of these men was being made difficult by the high swell that was still running; not only that, but when the destroyer headed for the next raft she only saw it when it was on the crest of a swell, what she did not see were six or seven survivors in between and directly in her path. When she did it was too late to dodge or stop. I watched them slide down the side of the ship, only one managing the net, and then to my horror they disappeared under the stern no the ship.
It was Sgt. Farmiloe's quick thinking that saved the day. He suggested that we use our nav smoke flare to not only mark a clear passage, but to indicate those who desperately needed to be picked up.
Flight Sgt. Ormesby got busy on the aldis lamp again, the destroyer Captain welcomed the idea and so away we went, laying a smoke flare every ten minutes, also using the aldis lamp when necessary. After an hour of this we broke away and did another sweep aroun the rafts and bits of wood, shooting up the odd packs of sharks which were still around and in large numbers. Then I spotted him, the man on the duckboard. He did not wave, he just lay there. I called up the skipper, pointing out the fact that he was all alone and obviously exhausted and would not last much longer. "Could I drop a smoke flare by him?" "How many smoke flares left Bill?" "Five" I replied. "Sorry" said the skipper, "He's only one, there are others worse off than him". I was about to reply that he had no-one to help him, no-one to keep his spirit up especially now that help was so near, then the skipper's voice came over the intercom - "Bring her round Harry, a raft has capsized over there, Larry contact the sub-chaser, get her over right away".
Half an hour later we were back near the duck board and I heaved a sigh of relief, he was still on and the sub-chaser wasn't far away. The men on the long beam got the next smoke flare and I secretly cheered as the sub-chaser headed over, but then she had moved away from the man on the duck board.
At last the survivors were few in the water and both the sub-chasers had left. Out round the perimeter again and eagerly I looked for the guy on the duck board for by now I was sharing his ordeal and then I spotted it. It took a full minute for me to accept that the duck board was empty - only another ten minutes and he would have been picked up.
My eyes searched the sea around that duck board, but no trace of him who had fought alone for thirty hours. A final low run around the wreckage in the sea and suddenly we all got a shock, for there below were three men in a rubber raft pulling the fourth one in. The rubber raft had been dropped the previous day by RNZAF Hudson bomber of No. 2 Squadron. The destroyer was 20 miles away and heading home. We soon turned her back and what a sight when he gave her full speed ahead. In no time the men were picked up and on their way home. I had a strange feeling that the sea had given back those four men.
The PBY4021 touched down at 12.25 on the 16th November 1943 at Lauthala Bay, Fiji, after 24 hours ops done on a test flight and flying 19 hours of the past 24 hours. Of the so-called few days off operational flying we had flown 44 hours 30 minutes on the 8th, 9th and 12th November 1943. Of the San Juan we heard much later - of the 1,429 Service personnel on board, apprximately 300 were lost.

Wing Commander John Agar

Wing Commander John Agar
Commanding Officer No.6 Squadron
August 1944 - June 1945.

Nelson
16.03.1992

"I joined the Squadron in August 1943, in Fiji where we had a conversion course to Flying Boats. Our first move was to Tonga Tabu where we took over from the U.S. on Anti-Sub patrols. In November we moved to Espiritu Santo, New Caledonia, again from the U.S. on A/S patrols flying from Segond Channel our base - We then moved to Tulagi Is. Halavo in the Solomon Islands in Jan 44. [JS Note first ops flight from Halavo was 25.12.1943] Our base there was very comfortable with an outdoor cinema, and a nice beach for swimming etc. We also had a tennis court and good accommodation. We lived on U.S. rations with extras from N.Z. whenever possible. Our A/S patrols were from daylight to dusk 10 - 12 hours each from the base towards Nauru Is in the N. Pacific. We also were on standby for Dumbo rescue work daily and each crew took turns in this duty. Later - - this tour we had a detachment of 2 Boats for extra Dumbo work at green Island, Emirau Is, Treasury Is. these covered strikes over Rabaul from Bougainville by RNZAF Venturas & fighters. Our A/C were based on U.S.S. Coos Bay, U.S.N. near Bougainville at Treasury Is. Crews lived on board the ship. While at the Treasuries I did a 'spotting' mission for the U.S.N. bombardment of Choisel Bay, we straffed the area with our .5 guns afterwards - No opposition seen. I had 2 U.S.N. Naval observers on this trip. There was a Mission Station on Malaita Is which we visited frequently with medical supplies etc. We were very welcome there by the mission sisters. Another of our routine patrols was for subs in the area. In the vicinity of Guadalcanal and Florida Is, we called it the 'Slot' and it was patrolled daily from dawn to dusk. On one occasion an ammunition ship was blown up off Henderson Airfield, we heard the explosion at Halavo, and of course it was put down to a Jap Sub, but nothing was ever found _ night patrols were started for a time.
In April 44 we attached I think 2 crews to the Pacific Ferry flight to collect replacement Catalinas from San Diego U.S. Air Base. These were to flown to Suva, Fiji for fitting out for the Squadron. The crews of which mine was one comprised of myself as Capt. F/O B. Stringer Co. Pilot F/O W. Murray Navigator W.O. Thoroughgood H.L. W.O.A.G. F/Sgt Cranston J. 2nd Eng. We were flown to the U.S. by N.A.T.S. via Henderson Field, Santos, Funafuti, Canton, Palmyra , Honolulu, San Francisco. Taking 3 days at San Francisco we had some leave & were the guests of the U.S.N. till arriving in San Diego. Here we were very well entertained and looked after, and fitted out with new uniforms as we had arrived in tropical kit only. The hospitality in the U.S. was simply 1st Class. We had about 2 weeks rest in San Diego Naval Air Station getting ready for the return flight to Fiji. This time was spent in recreation and flight testing our aircraft. By 30 April all was ready and we waited for suitable weather conditions for the flight to Honolulu. This would take about 18 hours so extra fuel tanks had to be fitted. On May 6th we left at about 4.30 P.M. and arrived safely at Kaneohe Seaplane base 17.30 Hrs later (i.e. next morning) after an uneventful trip. It was abright moonlight night and flying at about 8,000 ft (most economical height for us) with a carpet of white cloud below and bright stars above was a beautiful sight. No sensation of speed - just the drone of our two engines (Pratt & Whitneys) which never missed a beat was an experience I will never forget. However on arrival it took a time for our heads to clear (and ears) and our wits back to normal and get some sleep. From Kaneohe (Honolulu) we left for Palmyra a coral atoll about 1/2 way to Fiji. These islands are only a few feet above sea level and very difficult to locate however, with radio it was no trouble to my Navigator to find OK, and after refuelling at the U.S.N. Base we left next morning for Canton another Atoll 5 Hrs flying away, this was also located and after refuelling and another stop over left next day for Fiji where we arrived 8 Hrs later. Next day after delivering and handing over our Catalina to the RNZAF at Fiji we left again for another trip to bring another Cat. back to Fiji flying to the U.S. by U.S. Navy P.B.M. (Martin Marina) [sic.] [JS Note: Martin Mariner see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/PBM_Mariner] flying boat. On our return after another uneventful flight we returned to New Zealand for some well earned leave, then back to Halavo our Squadron.

It was great to get home to the family but all the harder to say farewell for a 2nd tour in the islands. I think we all felt the same. For me I was then appointed C.O. of the Squadron it had its advantages with more responsibility of course. We kept very good health[?] in the Islands with the Medical Officer insisting on proper Malaria Control at all times 'Atebrin' Tablets daily and long sleeves & trousers in the evenings to prevent mosquitoes getting at one & Mosquito nets at night. I had one trouble with a 'Centipede' which bit me on the big toe when I put on my boot one evening, a thing I will never forget - they are very poisonous & I was in agony till the M.O. gave me an injection of 'Morphine'. I was very comfortable after that!

I finished my tour in August 1945 and was sorry to go but felt I'd had enough and it was time to get back to my family in New Zealand (Wellington)."

F/O Noel Haglund, W.O.A.G.

425839 F/O Noel Haglund (dob 25.12.1921)
St Heliers, NZ
1992
Aircrew W.O.A.G. Served with No. 6 Squadron 11.04.1944 to 06.08.1945
Spent short time at Espiritu Santo on detachment with VP 54 see http://www.fortunecity.com/millenium/redwood/372/vp54.htm ‘The Black Cats operating under Commander Air Solomons (COMAIRSOLS) were included in the below quoted appraisal by Historian Morison (Vol. VI, page 290) Airsols, despite a heterogeneous composition (planes of U. S. Army, Navy, Marine Corps, and Royal New Zealand Air Force), was one of the world's finest, with matchless Esprit de corps. Its fighter planes kept guard over every convoy running north of Espiritu Santo; its "Black Cats" scoured the darkness, its "Dumbo" rescue planes picked up shipwrecked mariners and bailed-out aviators, delivered rations to beleaguered coast watchers, and rushed spare parts to the fighting front. …’
Living conditions? “Halavo Quonset Huts and later in new position 2 and three man huts Showering and toilet facilities fairly primitive. Good Officers Mess made possible by our own efforts. Food mostly American style but quite reasonable.”
Operational procedures? “Halavo Bay Shipping patrols and escorts anti sub patrols, aircraft and missing crew searches dumbo work maintenance trips to Fiji and ile Nou island in New Caledonia ferry trip to N.Z. to pick up new aircraft. On 27.7.44 we located the wreckage of an American C87 [JS note Derivative of B-24 Liberator] transport plane all 17 on board lost their lives. On 7.9.44 we rescued 9 people from a ship which had struck a reef on Halalei Island.”
Recreation? “Halavo Mainly using the mess going to the odd picture show or u.f.o. [sic] concert when on and when supplies were available taking a few cans of beer to our ground crew mates down on the tarmac. We enjoyed their company and they enjoyed our beer as they were pretty strictly rationed as far as liquor supplies were concerned. We also had games of baseball and cricket with the Americans and our own airmen. We went on various barge trips around the area and also used to visit the N.Z. Fairmile patrol boats when they came into our base for a short stay.
Detached Flights? “Served on detachment at Santo with W/O Donaldson which has already been mentioned. Other detachment with F/L D.L.M. Martin at Green and Emirau Islands from 4.6.45 to 23.6.45. Did ferry trip from Green Island to Jacquinot Bay transporting airmen and army personel. From Emirau we were Dumbo cover for American planes on strikes over Kavieng and Rabaul. … We were at Green Island when Sir Cyril Newall the N.Z. Governor General paid a visit.”
Happiest memory? “The happiest memory would probably be the day 27.7.44 when my best friend F/O Owen Girven [JS note O.E. Girven 2nd W.O.A.G.] and I commenced flying together in the same crew. We were known as the heavenly twins but I don’t think there was anything very heavenly about us.
Saddest memory? “would be when we learnt of the crash in Fiji where W/Os Freeman & F/S Geary and others lost their lives. Also the loss of our own aircraft on 12.10.44.”
Other memories “The visit of Bob Hope and Patty Davis and other USO entertainers. The American pilot who was visiting and ran his Martin Mariner F/B on the reef in our bay and holed it badly.”

Robert Coulter - Radar Unit 53

Robert K. Coulter
Timaru.
06.05.1992
Around Xmas 1944 I passed through Tulagi (Florida Island) on route to an island called Malaita, I was a wireless operator posted to a radar unit 53 said to be the most isolated post of all RNZAF stations. This unit was situated at Cape Astrolabe, Malaita & operated from second week October 1943 until closure approx end February 1945. This unit was serviced by NR.6 Flying Boat Squadron, also American vessel called once each month.
We boarded the Flying Boat at Halavo Bay & flew to Cape Astrolabe where they dropped smoke bombs (for wind I think) & landed in the sea. I am not sure whether we had to swim or were picked up by a dinghy. I remember with the American vessel most of the cargo especially fuel in drums was pushed over the side, & we swam it all ashore. Had a lot of native help & I needed it because I was very poor at staying up in the water. …
There was a Missionary Hospital further down Malaita & 6FB Flying Boats would unload supplies for us & then take aboard some Radar Operators, Wireless Ops also natives as guards & drop them all off at the Hospital, they would all walk back after about four days Holiday.”