Diary of Ernest Kenyon Alexander (Part II)

NZ416235 W/O Ernie Alexander (Navigator)

Part Two: Panama to New York & Toronto 1942.

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.

Back to sea again and the same old routine, but lots to talk about this time. Items on the notice board concerning ships sunk in the Carribean made us realise that there is a war on. Fortunately our boat was capable of 17 knots and too fast for subs, still the news we were receiving was disconcerting. Our watches became more real. One funny incident which happened in the mid Pacific just comes to mind. It concerned Jack Blank when he pushed the button of a six inch gun and a shell roared across the Pacific. The sea was calm, the sky as clear as a bell and all was quiet but the Americans were on action duty in no time.

Nearing New York we encountered considerable fog and this was just as well on the last day. A submarine sunk a boat quite close to us. We did wild evasive action during the last few hours. The first sight of New York was an imposing sight with the Statue of Liberty really beautiful. There was no mistaking New York with all its skyscrapers. The wharves were a collossal size and dwarfed our boat. Previously in Wellington it was the reverse, witht he 'John Ericsson' towering above the sheds.

After docking we boarded buses and went straight to Central Station to catch a train to Toronto. We saw little of New York but passed through Broadway, 5th Avenue and 42nd Street. We found the city a mass of neon signs, and a blaze of coloured lights. The skyscrapers were immense and appeared to block out the sun in the streets. The Empire State Building (102 storeys and 1200 feet) has to be seen to be believed. Traffic roars along at a tremendous rate, some of the boys unwisely tried to cross the street and were nearly killed. Taxis in New York are painted the gayest colours imagineable. After a few hours we left the Central Station for Toronto. A brief description is worth recording although it is called a station, it is really a small town, it being possible to purchase almost any commodity.

After pulling out, the train passed over sidings for ages, someone said it was 10 miles. Soon it was pushing along at 60 m.p.h. The lights of New York looked marvellous and gradually faded out as we dashed through the night. Daylight saw us over the Welland Canal, and soon after we passed through Hamilton. The countryside did not look the same quality as in New Zealand. Much of the area is devoted to growing Peaches, which are ripe.

At Toronto we were given a wonderful reception by the Canadians. Apparently New Zealanders are very popular here. They liked our version of the Haka, which we learnt on the boat. Formalities were completed in the morning, and in the afternoon we were given leave. In all we spent ten days in Toronto, and enjoyed it to the full. The locals gave us a wonderful time, one of the highlights being a trip to the Niagara Falls. The food is first class, much more like our own at home - a contrast to the meals on the John Ericsson, which were very sweet. My weight according to Canadian scales is 198 pounds (14 stone 2 pounds) a record for me.

The station in Toronto is known as a training pool, a place where aircrew assemble and are later sent to their flying stations. Every morning we attend a parade and march through some beautiful parks. Our instructor is very good, and makes it as easy as possible for us, realising no doubt that we have a tough time ahead. His favourite pastime is to ask us to sing popular war songs as we are on the march, "We are the boys from away down under", "Waltzing Matilda", etc, etc, with an odd Haka thrown in.

Continued by Part 3: "10 Air Observers School, New Brunswick".

Diary of Ernest Kenyon Alexander (Part I)

NZ416235 W/O Ernie Alexander (Navigator)

Part I: New Zealand to Panama 1942.

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.

After leaving Wellington on August 17th 1942 by the American Troopship "John Ericcson" (29,000 tons) (formerly the Kingsholm Swedish) [JS Note 'John Ericsson' formerly 'Kungsholm'] we journeyed to Panama Canal, veering well south of Pitcairn Island. The trip was uneventful except for a breakdown in the engines about 200 miles from Panama Canal. Life on board ship was quite interesting, particularly the "crossing the line" ceremony. My charge was "that I drank and smoked too much therefore stunting my growth." The experience of seeing sea day after day made us all realise the size of the ocean. Time was spent by reading, deck games, physical training, and submarine watch. Most of the journey the temperature was about 40-45 degrees F. but increased as we neared Panama. No storms crossed our path. Handling American dollars and cents, and crossing the International Date Line were all new to us. The only sea life was an odd bird, and whales and porpoises. American idioms such as "I guess", "Guy", "Bucks", and "dimes" soon became accepted as everyday language. Cabins were very stuffy at night, being closed on account of blackout regulations. Points of note included a lack of a canteen on the ship, a medicine ball lost overboard, no trouble with seasickness and numerous games of crib, also poker by certain groups. The price of haircuts was a shock, 75 cents or 4/9 N.Z. money, the result being that everyone cut each others hair. A visit to the scales revealed an increase in weight, even after the gain in N.Z. Air Force Stations.

All the 120 odd aircrew trainees on board the boat were pleased to see land, which we sighted at nighfall. We simply gazed at the tropical growth for hours, having seen nothing like this before. I can vividly remember a Toucan bird sitting on a buoy, and thinking how pretty it was. Most of us went ashore at Balboa by a launch, and stretched our legs for a couple of hours. Noticed the plentiful supply of taxis, there always seemed to be someone yelling his head off calling Taxi Taxi Taxi. The journey through the canal next day was extremely interesting with all the locks, etc. The whole trip to the other Port of Colon taking 9 hours. Our ship spent four days here having engine repairs, which suited us fine, as it gave us all an opportunity of seeing the sights of Cristobal. To an inexperienced N.Z'er not having travelled much this was more than an eye-opener. This town could well have been the last place God made and forgot to finish. The heat was terrific and the humidity high. Being the rainy season rain fell frequently. Although dressed in shorts everyone was in a continual sweat. The town of 90,000 is predominantly native and extremely black, quite a few inhabitants from the neighbouring Carribean Islands come to Panama also. The Jamaicans were particular not to be classed as Panamanians. Language spoken is mostly English with some Spanish. The American influence was most noticeable. A large number of American Servicemen were stationed there on garrison duty, while the white quarter of the town is clean and new, the rest is mostly slummish. We were all eager to see everything, and some of the sights were more than we had bargained for, streets were narrow and covered in rubbish, and natives congregated everywhere, especially around lottery stalls. Panamanians are most partial to lotteries. I can well remember seeing rubbish dumped on the streets below from upstairs windows.

In some streets every fourth shop was either a bar or a nightclub. Bars have swinging doors, and only shut to be swept out, (even open on Sundays). Drunks were everywhere, and we were told never to travel in back streets alone or suffer the penalty of a cracked skull. One or two smarter types tried this and were picked up in the gutter by the Panamanian Police, minus their money, watch and valuables. Shoe shine boys were numerous all over the town, chasing you everywhere calling "shoe shine" or "please for a nickel". We met one middle-aged woman with one arm begging in the streets, even going into the bars and tapping chaps on the shoulder for a coin.

Being curious and wanting to see all, I can remember walking down one narrow back street which was wholly given over to prostitution. Native women and Spanish women were most amusing as they sat on their boxes outside their rooms, offering their talents at various prices. I can still see one Spanish woman calling out to us, "come on Kiwi 5 Dollars" while her rival across the street priced her talents at 3 dollars, then another street would be the drug addict section of the town, Cocaine, Opium and Haddish [sic] were the most common. Yes, filth, smell, beggars, poverty, drunkeness, prostitution, and drug addicts was the lot of Cristobal. Night clubs were numerous, all run on similar lines. Tables free, the expense being the Blue Moon. Blue Moon was a fashionable lady of doubtful reputation mostly broken down chorus girls or night club dancers. Each girl used a token as her identification to the waiter and received a percentage of the profits on the drunks, which she encouraged her partner to consume. When he was broke she returned her token to the waiter andd started all over again. The floor show commences on a slow quiet tempo almost high class, and increases in intensity to the strip tease act. By this time the show is really roaring, and quite often the Police have to be called in.

The colour bar is shocking, everyone being known as Gold or Silver. A white person is classified Gold and the native Silver. All the restrictions are on the natives, who could not earn more than 60 dollars per month, receive a decent education, become a boss of any kind, ride in certain buses, or sit in certain places. This colour bar also applies to natives coming from the neighbouring islands.

The are many Jamacans in Panama, who came over to work. One I spoke to told me he would be glad to go home again. He was very clean, well dressed and respectable. He was most interested in the Maoris, when I told him they had equal rights. Many natives in Panama are pretty dirty, and I suppose you can understand not mixing with them, but it does seem hard that they are not given a chance.

In Colon we toured the sights in a taxi (of course they are cheap here), the driver being a native of Dominica. He was very interesting and took us to all parts, native and white quarters. All houses are built about four feet from the ground to prevent dampness entering the building. There are millions of ants in Colon - I saw huge patches of ground eaten bare of grass by them. Ants in one place followed a narrow track, some carrying grass to an anthill, and others returning for another load. I have been informed they followed the same track in the 1914-18 War.

Fruit at the moment is fairly scarce in New Zealand. Drapery shops are known as bazaars and of course sell all summer wear. Most luxury lines are cheaper, but the necessities of life more expensive. Summing up, those four days in Colon, we were all convinced it was a great experience. I am more certain than ever that N.Z. is a wonderful country and worth fighting for right to the last drop of blood. All the boys were pleased to leave the place, but mighty glad of the experience.

Continued by Part II: Panama to New York & Toronto 1942