Diary of Ernest Kenyon Alexander (Part IX)

NZ416235 W/O Ernie Alexander (Navigator)

Part IX : Halavo Bay

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.

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

Halavo Bay was a previous Japanese base.

The control tower was built pagoda style, witht he walls made out of palm leaves. On every trip we did it was my job as navigator to collect the weather report, code books and information on the sector we were to fly on.

We rose at 4.00am, had breakfast, were briefed on our trip, and took off. Almost all of them were about 12 hours.

Halavo Bay was not particularly exciting, the rainfall was terrific, something in the vicinity of 250 inches in a year. Other islands recorded 400 inches.

We lived in tents for a start and were virtually surrounded by mud. When the trucks came to collect us or someone else for flying, they inevitably got stuck. So we were woken at 4.00 am whatever happened. With the high rainfall and humidity our clothes were always damp and musty. A lot of our equipment rusted and films stuck in our cameras. The tents often leaked. For a floor we had metal landing strips placed on logs. It never paid to drop anything through the holes because land crabs would take them away. Johnny Cowan, our engineer, dropped his fountain pen, and the last he saw was a crab marching away with it. They were huge animals about 8 inches across the back. A favourite trick of theirs was to climb our tents and slide down. A lot were run over by the trucks.

It was rather startling for the new-comer to listen to the bats. They flew low with a peculiar noise, and of course were hard to see. They were also quite big. The only other odd creatures about were sea snakes in some parts and giant lizards. One chap was leading one around on a rope and it was four feet long. Generally speaking wildlife took off when men arrived.

A native village was about three miles up a nearby stream. Apparently all the women folk took to the mountain tops when the Japs came, leaving the men and boys behind.

Food, the important item was poor, mainly because of the extremely high rate of chlorination and lack of knowledge on the cook's part. I would not be exaggerating to say more was thrown out than eaten. Spam, saukraut, dehydrated potatoes were always on the menu. As aircrew we received special rations. We claimed all we could get and hung on to them. Instead of going for meals we lived on toast and tinned fish, mostly salmon. Our favourite habit was to detail one to go for a meal and if it was satisfactory he would inform us and all would go.

Showers were erected outdoor, cold of course, which were very welcome in the heat. We took Atabrine tablets to protect us against Malaria, but even then some contracted. Our skin went a yellow colour, but that didn't matter, only ourselves to look at.

As at our previous base, we washed our own clothes, but of course we never saw an iron.

Generally speaking that summed up life at Halavo Bay. Writing letters, reading, sacking (sleeping) when we were off duty was all we could do.

Flying was more difficult here. We still did patrol work up as far as Nauru Island and the equator, but hunter-killer operations, search and rescue, and escort duties were also involved.

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.

Memoirs of Dennis Donovan

Dennis Donovan
Christchurch
25 February 1992



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Memoirs of W/O John Hall

Memoirs of Warrant Officer John W. Hall Armaments Section No.6 Squadron

With thanks to John's daughter Nancy Bamford and family for permission to publish his memoirs.

The Air Force and Me
At the time of the outbreak of war my father and I owned a farm at Taupaki. We were about to sell the farm with the thought of purchasing a larger unit. Instead, I decided I was going to join the Air Force. We sold the farm and I insisted that my father take the equity of the farm as he needed support having been injured in an accident on the railway about 10 years previously and he was partially paralysed. My application for the Air Force was accepted and I went for a medical examination. My only interest in the Air Force was to be Aircrew. Unfortunately for me on the medical examination I was found to have a visual defect which made me unsuitable for all aircrew. However the Air Force offered me a position on the ground staff. In this I was not interested in the slightest and went off to join the Army. I was accepted by the Army but their medical examination found me “Permanently Medically Unfit!”. I had never suffered a blow like this before. I was devastated and couldn't believe it. Being rejected twice, I had to go back to accept the Air Force offer of ground staff. I was instructed to report to RNZAF Station Whenuapai with the rank of Aircraftsman First Class ACHGD. I thought this sounded very grand, I didn't know that at that time AC1 was the rank for all those over 20 years and ACHGD meant aircraft hand general duties. Those in this rank performed every general purpose or menial work that the Air Force had to offer. On reporting to Whenuapai I was instructed to see the station warrant officer by the name of Mr Trott. Warrant Officers in the Air Force were the only ones addressed as “Mr”. In my interview with him he asked me what I did in civilian life, I said I was a farmer. I could see that this put him at a bit of a loss because as I guessed there would not be many vacancies in the Air Force for farmers. Then he came up with a bright idea. Have you ever used a telephone, on my answer Yes, he said right, we will make you a telephone operator. This work I carried out on my first 2 or 3 months while I was searching for something more meaningful to do in the war effort. I found that I could apply to be an armourer and to go on an armourer's course. I needed to wait about 2 months before going on this course and in the mean time, I was transferred to the armoury at Whenuapai to work. I was fortunate in that I was learning and working on a lot of machine guns and armoury equipment before going on the course. At this period I found that I could get a long weekend pass from my previous section and the next week get a long weekend pass from my new section. At this time weekend leave was permitted only once a fortnight, but I got both of them for about six weeks. I came back from leave from one weekend to find that I was on charge - I had been drawn for guard duty and I wasn't there - a terrible crime. I found that I was charged with being absent from guard, absent without leave and guilty of conduct to prejudice the good order and discipline of the Royal NZ Air Force. When I appeared to answer the charge the armament officer was most amused because of the racket that I had been able to perform. I was punished by being given one day confined to camp and being recorded as having been admonished. I lost my privilege of having long weekends each week.
Eventually I was sent to the armament school which was then situated at Wigram. I had quite an advantage over others because of my practical experience at Whenuapai. I also studied while a lot of those on the course just had a jolly good time. I passed out of the course equal top and while I was still AC1, I automatically attained the rank of LAC (Leading Air Craftsman) after 3 months. My posting from the course was to RNZAF Station Taieri. I arrived there in winter and it was a winter of dreadful frosts. The frosts lay like snow on the ground. As with all Air Force stations we could only have leave one weekend in two. One incident that I would like to record happened when one Airman found that he could go across the airfield to the back road to Mosgiel at night, and he had a source of booze. He would regularly get on whisky. One night on returning he couldn't make it back to the dormitory, but collapsed at the edge of the flying field. The patrolmen going around in the morning saw this heap of white and had never seen that before so they prodded it with rifles. The lump stirred and our friend blearily got to his feet - he had been all night in the deepest frost of the year. He got to his feet and ambled away, back to the mess for breakfast and so warming were the properties of whisky that he suffered no ill effects, also the thick Air Force great coat helped him.
At Taieri I was engaged chiefly in instructing airman pilots in the armaments their aircraft would carry. Airman pilots were pilots under training and could be distinguished from other air personnel as each has a white facing on his field service cap. It was mostly of machine guns and I had to take parties of them to the range for machine gun practise. Our butts can be seen today if one goes from Dukes Road parallel with the railway to the aero club.
While at Taieri during the weekends whilst on leave, we of the Air Force were always seeking entertainment. We were very pleased to find the availability of the ANA dances put on by a number of good ladies in Dunedin. The ANA (Army, Navy & Airforce) Club was run on very strict lines. The Dunedin ladies were all young women who could only attend if they were members and could only become members by invitation. There I met Frances who was later to become my wife. About a month before we were due to be married I was posted to No.1 stores depot at Te Rapa. There were hundreds of Air Force personnel at Te Rapa, all of them clerical staff or stores wallahs. I was the only armourer and it appears that I was sent there to be a technical adviser regarding armament stores held there. This was the most useless, dead end job I have ever had, I had no meaningful work to do and yet I had the most terrible task to get leave to get leave to get back to Dunedin to be married. I was allowed only one week. On my way through Wellington I was so fed up with the uselessness of my work that I decided to go to Air Department. Air Department was the Holy of Holies in the Air Force. It was situated in Stout street, Wellington, and rigorously guarded. It was absolutely forbidden for any personnel to go there without authority. I went, marched in the door, as if on official business, could see at a glance that the Chief Armament Office for the whole of the RNZAF was on the fourth floor and took the lift. I entered his office and told his receptionist who I was and that I requested to see him. The armament staff officer was one Wing Commander Wix. He made me very welcome which surprised me and did not question my bowling into Air Department. He chatted with me for about half an hour, asked about what I had been doing in the Air Force and what stores were at Te Rapa and was most agreeable. It was he who got his office staff to look up my file and told me that I had come top equal on the armourer's course. I told him that my purpose in seeing him was to seek his assistance in me being posted overseas. In this matter he didn't commit himself. We parted on very friendly terms and I found it no trouble to leave Air Department. Poor Frances did not know until I rang from the South Island that we could be married on the due date (3rd March). We had the most meagre honeymoon of 3 days and I had to leave her in Christchurch while I went back to Te Rapa. When I arrived back at Te Rapa I found that I was promoted to Corporal and posted to Woodbourne. In Woodbourne my work was again instructing airman pilots but they at this stage were more advanced in their flying and I had to instruct in a lot more armament subjects. Despite all my efforts I still could not get a posting overseas. In the end I was sent on a course to Rongotai again passing through Wellington, once again I decided to beard the lion in his den and went back to Air Department. Same procedure as before, but this time there was a different armament staff officer, one Squadron Leader Greenaway. Once again, I had quite a long chat, once again I requested that I be posted overseas, and went on my way. What amazed me was, that on neither visit to Air Department, did the Staff Officer question my being into Air Department, out of bounds except on Official Business. On returning to my station at Woodbourne, I found that I was promoted to Sergeant, and posted to instruct in the armament school which was now situated in RNZAF Station, Levin.
How I wished that I had gone to Air Department earlier because who knows what rank I might have attained since I was promoted each time I went there. The armament school at Levin was out of place and was planned to be shifted to Woodbourne. Levin was a completely drill and discipline station, it seemed to be there solely to impart drill and discipline and spit and polish. The atmosphere was quite foreign to me. Soon after my arrival a huge wing parade was planned. Personnel from other stations converged upon Levin, the top brass from Air Department and Ohakea were there and the big parade ground was planned to be filled. I was instructed that I had to take a flight from the armament school to this wing parade. In vain did I try to get out of it, saying I knew nothing of the procedures - to no avail, on the day in question I marched a flight, one of three from the armament school to this big wing parade. The order was clearly given "At the halt facing left, form flight." I could see the immaculate way in which the preceding flights carried out this manoeuvre. When it came to my turn, I marched my flight up to the proper position. I should have given the order, Halt, Left Turn, Form Flight. They should all have halted, turned left and marched in a cartwheel fashion to neatly join the parade. I had not a clue what to order - I said "Halt", looked around in dismay, they were all standing there behind me. There were several other Flights behind mine forced to mark time as I held up the whole works. In desperation, I said, "do the same as the others have done." They all shambled like Browns' cows to raggedly form a proper position in the parade. This is the way in which I mucked up the whole big wing parade at Levin. They couldn't do anything to discipline me because I had never had any parade ground training, but the Commanding Officer at Levin had a jolly good try. One good result was I was excused from the next wing parade. About a month after arriving at Levin the whole armament school was shifted to Woodbourne. While there I made repeated applications for overseas service but to no avail. I eventually became the head instructor , then suddenly out of the blue I had a posting to the Islands.
We first left Whenuapai in a C47 aircraft and were flown straight to New Caledonia where we stayed overnight. The following morning we were flown to Guadalcanal. Having waited there overnight, I was one of the few going to No. 6 Flying Boat Squadron on Florida Island. When I arrived at the armament section at Halavo Bay I was met by a number of my previous pupils. As I had been a strict instructor, I wondered at my reception, but was surprised to be greeted as a long lost friend. I was in charge of the servicing of all the armament of the Catalina Flying Boat section of our squadron. Our No. 6 squadron had approx 300 personnel. Our aircraft had 2 duties, one was anti sub marine patrol, where frequently all the depth charges would be dropped on Japanese submarines. The other function was what they called Dumbo, where every bit of weight was taken from the aircraft, guns etc, and the aircraft flew the maximum time in the air, about 20 hours and the object was to pick up survivors in life rafts, from torpedoed ships or aircraft which had had to ditch or had been shot down. Our squadron had picked up quite a number. Soon after arriving at Halavo Bay, a fault developed; some of our depth charges were not exploding. It was left entirely to me to find out why. I found that the fuses fitted to these depth charges had a lubricant which became sticky in the humidity and the fuses were not being armed, so the depth charges did not explode. There were not text books there regarding these fuses, but I knew them back to front having instructed in them. Also some of my armourers had been instructed in them by me. I had to have all of the fuses, bought into the armoury to be stripped down and cleaned of the sticky lubricant. The Americans had quite a different system for depth charges used on warships. They used the same as we did on aircraft in the Atlantic but ours was the only squadron using them in the Pacific where humidity was so high. English depth charges were a superior design both aerial and surface models being activated by hydrostatic pressure. I had our stock of fuses brought into the armoury ready to start work on what should have been an easy task. Each fuse contained a massive explosive (would blow up a whole house), suddenly I was aware that I was alone in the armoury - everyone had gone, finding urgent work elsewhere - they didn't trust me, they thought I was going to blow the whole place up! I had to carry out the modifications on all the fuses on my own, but the depth charges worked after that. Our Catalina aircraft were purely flying boats, each aircraft had to have extra temporary wheels fitted and the aircraft dragged out of the water each night - servicing was then done high up on the coral beach. During the day the heat inside the aircraft was intense but the work had to be done. It was a practise to wear light weight khaki underpants as the sole piece of clothing. Some of the work had to be done at night, when the temperature in confined spaces was bearable. It was my job to check everything of armament equipment before an aircraft could go out - that is machine guns, depth charges and their racks. The crew who worked on getting the aircraft in and out of the water were always naked and once when an aircraft came in and was pulled out from the water up onto the coral beach, out stepped a party of American nurses, much to the consternation of the landing party. When the aircraft was in the water it was necessary to be moored until the engines could be started. The engines could not be started until a very big petrol powered engine inside the aircraft was started up, it was called the APU, Auxiliary Power Unit, on no account were the mooring lines to be released unless the APU was going and aircraft engines started. In charge of the landing party was one L A C named Roache - because he stuttered, he had the unkind nick name of Yakka. At one time one of the landing party by mistake released the mooring rope, the aircraft started drifting, the APU had not been started, the engines had not been started, the aircrew in the aircraft had not been alerted, and Yakka Rouche was stuttering You're, You're, You're, and he just could not get it out - at last he got it out "You're adrift" and the aircrew were just able to get the APU started and the aircraft engines started before the aircraft ground onto the coral reef. Being only a thin skinned aluminium hull, if the aircraft had drifted onto the coral reef, the hull would have been ruined, the aircraft would sink and would have to be written off as there were no repair facilities for such a big job on our squadron.
Several days every week when all the aircraft were home, we had time in the late afternoon to go for a swim. The water was always absolutely warm and swimming was a pleasure, of course no bathing costumes were worn. On Halavo Bay the sergeants lived in huts with sergeants, did not mix with corporals or airmen, or with officers. I was one of a bridge 4 who were; "Win" Churchill, "Mac" McKenzie and the fourth was Ed Hillary who was a navigator airgunner on our aircraft. Aircrew had a fortnights leave back in NZ every three months and it always amazed me that Ed Hillary would spend his fortnight climbing in the Southern Alps after being in the heat of the tropics. Most of the sergeants' huts were 4 men ones, but I shared a 2 man with Cliff Mills and we got along very well. I had the use of a bomb truck to go back into the back country where we had a bomb storage area and a pyrotechnic store. I could keep an eye on wild pawpaws and beat the birds to them when I saw the first sign of ripening. These were welcome additions to the diet for Cliff and myself as we could not stomach some of the horrible food dished up from the kitchens. We always used mosquito nets, the need for them was not great as the Americans had a tremendous policy that there was not stagnant water anywhere for the anopheles mosquito to breed. On our base was a contingent of about 200 American Navy men who had their own camp and facilities. They were American SeaBees (construction battalion). They had been forgotten by the United States Navy and for the first six months of my tour with No. 6 squadron they had virtually nothing to do, then all of a sudden they were all shipped out and we saw no more of them. In the sergeant's mess, beer was available in only quart size bottles and we could buy one each evening when stock was available. Price 10c (American) per bottle. We had landing craft available, run by our own marine section for our necessary transport, 3 times while I was on the station I had to go on one of these craft over to Guadalcanal, approx 50 miles to get further supplies of depth charges.
We had an extended lunch hour of 2 hours unless something urgent had to be done, during this time I would usually write to Frances and the temperature being so hot I would often break off to have a luke warm shower to cool off a bit. Our starting time in the morning was 6.30 or 7 a.m. and we worked in the afternoon until everything was done.
Life on Halavo Bay was very busy, every day a working day, heat so intense that one wore an absolute minimum and there was practically no shade. We were under the command of the United States Navy - all our food supplies came through American sources but the good beef sourced from NZ was grabbed by the Americans, we were fobbed off with the mutton which was the only meat we saw. We had to take 2 very large salt tablets with each meal to counter salt loss and subsequent prickly heat. I was on No 6 Flying Boat Squadron at Halavo Bay for almost 12 months, then came VJ day and it was all over. Every piece of equipment which we had, we were required to take out on landing barges and dump in the sea. I saw probably millions of dollars of beautiful equipment dumped because the Americans insisted that it should not be reused. Most of us picked the best tools we could to take home for our own use - quite contrary to regulations. Slowly but surely, our squadron was reduced and our personnel repatriated. In my last fortnight at Halavo Bay I was the only senior NCO left and I was made Station Warrant Officer. We were in the 2nd to last aircraft to leave Halavo bay and so heavy was the equipment in the kit bag of every man that the aircraft went for many miles before it could take off - but at last got into the air and we were flown straight home from there where we landed at Hobsonville. I was given final leave of 1 month, discharged to the Air Force reserve, thus ended my contact with the Air Force after nearly 5 years.

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)."

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.”