W/O Walter 'Bill' Leadley 1924-2009 (Part I)

Memoirs of NZ429151 W/O Bill Leadley as told to Jenny Scott, 1992.

Greetings and salutations from New Zealand.
Rather than put pen to paper I thought it might be easier and quicker to put it on tape. Just a little bit about me for a start.

After the war 31 years orcharding on my own account, I had a small farm as well which I sort of semi-retired to run 50 deer and 300 breeding ewes - not very economic these days.

In 1947 I took out a private flying licence and I carried on flying for about 17 years. I let the licence elapse but did keep my hand in at flying over the years by going to veteran's day and doing a few circuits and bumps. I do have an airstrip on my property here that is being used by the Motueka Flying School at the moment. So we are still well and truely connected with the flying side of life.

You've got a lot of questions there for me to answer. i think I will tell the story as it goes . I've got a bit written down and I will read that out to you and I think that will help answer quite a few of them.

As you know the entries in the logbook were restricted. You could only put a certain amount in and regarding detail you couldn't put anything in. You can understand why, if it fell into Japanese hands. Over that first tour of course we were classified as saboteurs, all aircrew were and if they were captured we were despatched. So we did live under a death sentence there for a year or so and certainly gave us the incentive to run away and live to fight another day.

Of course the Cats role was most definitely not to engage aircraft in combat, it was to take on a defensive roll. Attack submarines by all means, and shipping, but avoid aircraft. You can imagine getting caught at 5000 feet, your belly had been ripped out by enemy fighter craft, you wouldn't be able to put down again in the sea, would you?

OK. little confusion there regarding my name, etc. You ask for name, rank and number, well I will give it to you. Late '39 early '40 I joined the 42nd Blackwatch A Company New Zealand Scottish. It was a Territorial Battalion being formed right throughout New Zealand. As my mother was Scots, to please her, I joined it, although I wanted to anyway, and I was well underage when I joined it I was 16 1/2. Soon as I became 17 1/2 I applied to get into the Air Force and I finally got my transfer through to it in early '42.

I went through Rotorua ITW [Initial Training Wing] and finally came out as an airgunner. I was trained in wireless as my father was a telegraphist in the First World War. He trained all of us and i was actually on the final leg to Canada as a wireless operator and they asked for 16 or 18 volunteers in a hurry, so I promptly did it. Went in as a straight A.G. However I did have the opportunity to remuster as a pilot at a later date. I did not take it, but I took out a private licence in '47 and flew for some 17 years afterwards. I did train on Tigers to, Tiger Moths. However had a great time and that, no great problems and I didn't bend any aeroplanes.

Now I had a twin brother, Edmund Leadley, and as you know my name is actually Walter, but we were nicknamed Bill and Jock. However the confusion arose when I went into the Scottish Regiment. No way they would have me as Bill, so they called me Jock, and when I transferred to the Air Force unfortunately there was a couple of cobbers came through with me and they kept calling me Jock and I had a devil of a job to get away from this namme and there are still members of the 6 Squadron will recall me as Jock and not as Bill Leadley. So there is the confusion.

I finished up as a 2nd year W/O1, my number was 429151 in the Air Force. In the Territorial it was 2/7/100, so it was a pretty early one.

Anyway at the end of the war of course we quietly faded back into the wood work and that was that. Although over the years I have always been involved in rescue work with yachting or tramping, shooting, etc. I have always been involved in rescue work of some description and I am still today tied up with C.D. as a radio operator.

Just before I start on the main story, regarding the story of the San Juan [JS Note see Blog Post 11 September 2009 "Sinking of the San Juan by Bill Leadley"] and the chappy on the duckboard. I would very much love to say he was the 4th man being pulled into the dinghy but I don't believe that. After 30 hours on that duckboard those last few hours he was just lying on it. He was totally exhausted and I believe he just quietly slipped into the water. That was the finish of that.

But it is not a story I put on paper really the event that happened. I cannot change the facts, I wish that was the case.

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 ...

Diary of Ernest Kenyon Alexander (Part IV)

NZ416235 W/O Ernie Alexander (Navigator)

Part IV: 10 Air Observers School, Chatham.

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.

Flying, which everyone on the course looked forward to, started soon after we arrived. The first was a familiarisation trip with two navigators. The greatest problem was to realise that when you were working out a course, the plane was still heading on the old one and wouldn't stop, but we soon learned that no matter what you gave the pilot he would always bring you home. Most were old bush pilots who did hours of flying in the North and were reputed to be able to fly by the seat of their pants. No pilot would venture too far away from the beaten track. At night time they would keep a good eye on the towns. Once, however this didn't happen. A pupil called Scotty, an ex Grey wolf (grounded pilot) gave a reciprocal course on the home leg. The pilot flew it this time, and ironically was recognising all the towns on the return journey. In due course their E.T.A. (estimated time of arrival) had expired and Chatham wasn't there. They flew on and soon were short on fuel, and turned on their landing lights to find somewhere to land. They found the edge of a lake and landed in shallow water, pulling up just in front of a huge rock. Scotty and the crew found they were in Halifax or nearby. He always had a habit of pulling his flying gear over his pyjamas, and spent the next two days wandering around like this. Finally he was washed out of the course, and later did a bombardier's training. He went to England and apparently survived the war.

The only problem with flying as far as I was concerned was airsickness. When the doctor told me he could do no more I just put up with it. Once I was forced to return home, but this proved fatal. Once more and I would be grounded I was told, so I never turned back. My standard equipment was a collection of cardboard boxes to contain what I couldn't hold. I eventually was so bad that the mere smell of a plane started me off. After a few minutes i was in the dry reach stage. I squared the pilots to keep quiet and I did my best, but my air work suffered. Of course I had to dispose of the boxes before returning, so the pleasant field below were the usual target. Poor devils on earth. The boys always reminded me to take my standard equipment with me. "Got your boxes" they would quip. Two on the course did go home because of air sickness.

A favourite pastime in 10 A.O.S. was to raid one anothers dormitory as a way of relaxation. Usually all ended well, except one night when a French-Canadian was involved. Poor sport he was, and informed the orderly officer who happened to be an American, a reconnaissance instructor.

One N.Z.'er and an Aussie had been celebrating too much, and subsequently were sent to an Air Force jail in Monckton for a week to cool off. But this turned the heat on at Chatham 10 A.O.S. A group of three Aussies planned reprisals, which incidently was one of the best kept secrets of the war. I personally only knew who one was, and that was when he left Canada.

The first act was to cut the stairways down with a fire axe. All the camp received a weeks C.B. (confined to barracks) for this. Act No. 2, do the job again and cut through the repairs this time. Result, 14 days C.B for the camp. But the rub was that the instructors were involved too, they couldn't leave camp when their courses were involved. Finally the Commanding Officer decided only the Aussies and N.Z.'ers were responsible, so the rest of the pupils were set free.

The select three planned further reprisals and amongst these were stealing the station flag, a copy of Janes Fighting Ships, and examination papers set for reconnaissance. The latter two belonged to the American officer, and this was a distinct embarrassment to him because Janes were a secret document to be kept under lock and key. They were a copy of all the latest planes and ships of all nations of the World, allied and enemy. He had left them on his desk.

In 14 days order was restored, the Commanding Officer was relieved of his position, and the brains behind the whole scheme eventually was given a commission off course. A well kept secret, otherwise he would probably have been discharged from the Air Force.

My personal action in this was to skip camp after about 10 days, for a few hours at the pictures. The stress of constant study, often late at night, needed a break, and Bob Shewry and myself decide to try. We marched along the road to the hospital to visit a supposed sick friend, then darted across the road to the fence and pulled the netting apart, which had been conveniently cut by the first N.Z. course at Chatham. I learn't afterwards that the Officers' mess was in sight of this spot, but they were human. We darted across to some woods, joined the road and made our way to the pictures, taking our aircrew flashes out of our caps. Recognised Special Police (S.P.'s) but they turned the blind eye. The fun started when we went to the Australia-N.Z. Club for coffee and doughnuts. The girls on duty were astounded to see us and plagued us with questions on what was going on back at camp. Apparently the town was alive with rumours, the incident had really livened up the place.

Coffee almost finished and two S.Po's appeared. One was a chap whom I had been invited home with by some locals for dinner, after attending church a couple of Sundays previously. He must have decided I was a reasonable sort of bloke because he just stood contemplating. Feeling cheeky I asked how many he had caught tonight and he said "You are the eleventh". "You won't need us," I replied, and to our amazement he said, "If you get back to camp without being caught we will say nothing." (Just our names, rank and number in his book in case). Bob and I moved off in due course, and went in the back of the camp as the night planes were coming in. We ducked behind snow drifts when lights were showing, and finally mingled witht he returning crews. We lived on tenter hooks for a few days, but nothing happened. All training camps in Canada were surrounded by tall cyclone netting fences, with barbed wire on top. The only legal way out was by the guard gate with a pass.

Before the snows started a sports day was held between the courses, football, tug-of-war, etc. etc. Number 58, our course, won with 39 points, the next closest being 32. It was a great day. The Canuks thought we were mad the way we played football.

Money is none too plentiful, and the generosity of the people is appreciated. As one way of saving money we cut each others hair. My home efforts are finding plenty of customers over here. A barber charges about 75 cents, N.Z. price 1/6, Canadian equivalent 4/-.

Diary of Ernest Kenyon Alexander (Part III)

NZ416235 W/O Ernie Alexander (Navigator)

Part III: 10 Air Observers School, Chatham.

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.

In due course we were posted to 10 Air Observers Course, Chatham, New Brunswick. Classes included Australians, Englishmen, Canadians, and other nationalities. The station is well set up, very convenient and ideal in every respect for training. We sleep in dormitories, built in the form of an H with the ablutions in the centre. They are two storied, with 18 beds (two tiered) in each. Janitors (old men) keep the building clean. Meals are excellent, my favourite being blueberry pie and flap jacks and maple syrup.

Paid a visit to the local town which is about two miles away. It is about the size of Tuakau, and the people are very friendly. An Australian-New Zealand Club is very helpful, supply coffee and doughnuts, aqnd introductions to families. Discovered that some months previously a New Zealand course trained in Chatham and apparently had a wonderful time. Made it easy for us - if you are a New Zealander you are OK. Gordon Lyell who instructed us at Rotorua was one of them. The first Sunday on the station we attended a church parade, most went willingly but a number absented themselves by various ruses.

The course is quite difficult, with ten subjects, plus flying. They include Navigation (Astro and Dead Reckoning), maps and charts, Reconnaissance, and Photography. Out of the original 60 at Rotorua, 30 have come to Canada to train as navigators, the remainder as bombardiers. Twenty-six of the navigators are at Chatham, four went to a station in Ontario. One of these, Jack Bell, was later killed when his parachute did not open. He apparently jumped at 500 feet when the aircraft was in trouble.

After a few days it became evident that lots of swot will be required to be successful on this course. The routine that most have settled for is five days intensive work, and a break on the weekend. Pictures, dances, golf, trips and visits to local homes find most favour.
On Sunday I was taken to the home of Archdeacon Anderson and found Eddie Medlin's name in the Visitors' book.

All the course were given their first familiarisation flight after about ten days. From the air the countryside is mostly Spruce and Fir trees, and fairly flat. The Miramachi River is quite prominent. Apparently New Brunswick is noted for the lumber trade. Chatham and New Castle once had seven mills, but during the depression only two operated. A doctor told us that 40% of the people had no work, and the rest about two days per week in this period. This reflected on the children who were very short of food and suffered accordingly.

The first pay in Canada was very welcome.

Chatham has churches belonging to six denominations, the ones with greatest followings being the Roman Catholic and the United Church of Canada. The latter is a combination of several protestant groups. The Roman Catholics have a beautiful building on top of a hill and can be seen for miles. Its steeple is almost a navigational hazard. When doing aerial photography everyone snaps the church, and it is safe to say all photography enthusiasts have one of this in their album.

The St. Pauls (Anglican) is 125 years old and well preserved. It has a shingle roof which is typical of many buildings in the area. One church, the Presbyterian, was sold and converted into a picture theatre when the United Church came into being. It still has a tall wooden steeple, and is called the Capitol. The church that went wrong someone said.

Talking of buildings, very few have paint on the outside, especially houses. This appears a reflection on the depression days.

Dr. Freeman, who befirended Bob Shewry and myself, said during these years only 40% of the people had work, and for only two days per week. The rest had nothing and lived on sustenance or whatever came their way. Of the seven lumber mills operating before the depression, only two remained open. He said this caused great starvation amongst the young people, and could still be seen. I have often wondered why so many of our age group possessed such thin legs and arms and this was apparently the answer.

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)."