We left an Englishman and his wife and young child there. He is going to be a temporary Commissioner for six months and we certainly felt sorry for his wife as she was lowered over the side of the ship in a sling to begin an exile on that bleak spot. The sea was a magnificent royal blue, as a result of the depth, about five miles apparently, and this combined with a glorious tropical sunset did provide an unforgettable vision as we sailed away.
August 25th 1940
After leaving Pitcairn the weather has settled and becomes hotter each day. There is a sudden abundance of flying fish and they make a remarkable show on a calm sea. The arrival of brilliant sunshine has heralded the long awaited start of sunbathing and swimming in our fine tiled pool. In fact, the sunshine is slowly turning me a chocolate brown colour! We are also playing a great deal of deck tennis (at which Pip and I remain undefeated champions) deck bowls, golf and other games. Each day is our own apart from a half hour of physical training in the morning and we spend extra time in the gymnasium and doing some turns around the deck, a complete circuit of the promenade deck equals a mile. I also do a tremendous amount of reading, as the ship has a first class library, and Pip, Bob and a Wellington lad and I play contract bridge every night. I have acquired a certain amount of skill and find it a most enjoyable game. We’ve had three movie nights which were very well attended and hope for more. The Akaroa is a wonderful sea boat and a most comfortable vessel. I have a great cabin with all conveniences and I’m treated in the best manner by a most attentive steward. We feast on a continuous supply of ice-creams and pineapples and agree it is, so far, a most remarkable trip.
August 31st 1940
We sighted land early this morning and spent the rest of the day running up the gulf. It was a wonderful sight to see the lights of Panama in the twilight as we sailed past the town. We were so close we could see the people dancing in the hotels! Balboa is really an American suburb of Panama and it was here, in the muddy entrance to the canal that we tied up. It was very disappointing not being allowed ashore, the New Zealand Government apparently being afraid of trouble, although the American Consul had arranged for us to be escorted around the town. A local American sent four barrels of light American beer to the boat and we had a lively party tonight. We have a Maori boy with a wonderful singing voice and quite a few guitars, as a result there was a great deal of singing, much to the delight of many of the Americans who came down to hear our songs and witness our attempts at the Haka. The heat is intense and we were all bathed in sweat due to the beer we consumed. I have to say I couldn’t live in the tropics and I spend my nights sleeping on deck in a deck chair. I don't think there is much more news except that the trip is going very well and we are still sailing along in calm seas and brilliant sunshine which is slowly turning me a chocolate brown colour. We are all enjoying the trip immensely and everyone is in the best of health.
September 1st 1940
We entered the canal at 11am and began one of the most interesting days of the trip to date. In the early stages the place had a deceptively quiet appearance, however I know that it’s one of the most heavily fortified areas in the world and as we passed forts of American soldiers, one having a complement of 5000 men, and heard large bomber planes roaring overhead, I realised that the place was a hive of activity. Forty American marines boarded our ship and searched for cameras etc. and also made sure that not so much as a matchbox was thrown overboard enroute. I counted thirty ships passing each other in the canal in a trip of 40 miles that took 8 hours. When we reached Colon we were met by an American battleship, searched again and the marines disembarked. We saw the Rotorua beside us and were delighted to think that our Panama mail would be on its way home to loved ones. Colon is the port at this end and the Americans have their own city adjacent, named Cristobel. We are staying here only long enough to take on 30 Frenchmen who mutinied a few days ago. Apparently their Captain is a Nazi and when France fell he issued orders to sail the ship to a French port and demobilize. But the crew, being staunch patriots, cut his throat and proceeded to Colon and placed themselves in the hands of the British Consul. They’re now going home to join General de Gaulle whom they hail as the saviour of France. I look forward to brushing up on my French!
September 3rd 1940
We are very lucky so far in the way of seeing a bit of the world. Today we spent a day ashore at Willemstad on the island of Curacao. You may have seen the Fitzpatrick travelogue of the place, a most romantic old town. Originally Spanish, the island was British in the days of Morgan, the old buccaneer, and is now Dutch. The town itself is a cosmopolitan place, with thriving native markets, which I imagine are very similar to those in Singapore. Pip, Bob and I hired a taxi and drove for eighty miles around the island for a gilder each. It was an interesting drive, although the heat was atrocious. We noticed that when the driver got moving his speedometer was reading 115 much to our astonishment. However we realised later that it was graduated in kilometres and actually he was doing about 70 m.p.h. The Dutch homes are magnificent, built of red brick and have lovely gardens. Dozens of small boats sail over from Venezuela, about 30 miles away, and sell fruit and trinkets at the open markets. Altogether we spent a most enjoyable day and arrived back at the boat laden with coconuts, oranges and headaches from the sun.
September 5th 1940
I am proud to report I have made excellent progress with the Frenchmen and have talked for hours with them. Tonight we passed through the channel between Haiti and Puerto Rico. I’m told this is a favourite spot for raiders to lie in wait. With a complete black-out being mandatory and everyone very quiet, we felt fairly safe. First of all an American destroyer stopped us and this caused tremendous excitement as none of us knew that she was a neutral ship until she was right alongside. An hour later I was sleeping on deck and awoke to see a ship loom up out of the dark. It had no markings and flew no flags. We immediately reversed course and went at full speed in the opposite direction. She chased us for about an hour but we got away finally. Nobody knows what that ship was, although the fact that she chased us indicated a raider.
September 8th 1940
Early this morning we arrived at Bermuda and anchored in the Roadstead, seven miles from the township of Hamilton. Everyone is very exited as we get shore leave here!
September 11th 1940
The days in Bermuda will live in my memory for many years. The local people felt that they were not doing much for the war and consequently took this opportunity to entertain us on a scale so lavish that it was almost embarrassing. Of course there were no American tourists in town so they threw open their huge nine story hotels to us, we lived in suites worth about 50 shillings a day for nothing. The island itself is simply beautiful, there is no other word to describe it, and they’ve set themselves up to develop a peaceful, old-world atmosphere, banning any motor traffic. All good things must come to an end and tomorrow we set sail for our final destination, and war.
September 12th 1940
At 6am we left in a convoy of 14 ships, escorted by an armed merchant ship about the size of the Monterey. There’s not a great deal of danger at this stage although very strict blackout rules are in place.
September 17th 1940
The convoy from Halifax joined us today. It was a magnificent spectacle to see this convoy of 30 ships appear on the horizon and when they joined us there were about 44 ships, all proceeding in even lines about 300 yards apart. Occasionally an unidentified ship appears and everyone watches eagerly as our escort dashes out to investigate it with guns all manned. She has five 6 inch guns and is a veritable fortress.
September 20th 1940
We’ve commenced doing four hour watches on top of the bridge for submarines; it‘s so tiring, scanning the sea constantly! Every course of pilots that has gone to England since May has been attacked by submarines; in the convoy that arrived a month ago four ships were lost. The convoy we just missed by a few hours in Bermuda was attacked three days ahead of us and two ships went down.
We had been steering the same course but immediately changed to give that spot a wide berth. Having said that, the Skipper told us that there were eight subs operating in our new area, accordingly today was slated to be the most dangerous day and we were all prepared for the alarm during the attack times, 3am to 6am and 5pm to 7pm. When the alarm did go off we all arrived at our stations in time as we’ve done dozens of lifeboat drills and we’re more than ready. However it was discovered that a large black whale had been sighted at 500 yards and it looked just like a sub. We have the boats permanently slung over the side and wear life belts all day wherever we are.
September 22nd 1940
At present we’re a long way north of the usual Atlantic trade route and are on the latitude of the north of Scotland. Accordingly the climate is much cooler and most of the boys sleep fully clothed. Everyone has a little bag packed with personal possessions which we’re allowed to take with us into the boats. A huge Sunderland flying boat arrived overhead at about 7am today. It immediately commenced circling over the convoy. We also have a most welcome addition in an escort of light destroyers and a cruiser. At 11am the first sub was sighted by the flying boat and we could see her signalling and circling over the spot about a mile and a half astern. Three destroyers rushed at top speed to this spot and immediately three depth charges were dropped. Even at this range we could feel the ship shake so I can imagine the sub would be rather shaken. We expected to see a ship go up in smoke at any minute at that stage! I don’t know whether they sunk that sub or not, although I should imagine so. Two more were sighted by the flying boat and depth charges were brought into action.
September 23rd 1940
Last night all the ships stopped from midnight until 5am and this gave the destroyers a chance to use their sound detectors, it felt very strange. This morning a Hudson bomber roared overhead and stayed with us for a few hours. We’ve also commenced machine gun watches which will be maintained around the clock.
September 27th 1940
It’s now 9am and we’re running down the channel between Ireland and Scotland. The strait is only about 13 miles wide here as we’re about opposite the Clyde River. Last night was our last night at sea and we celebrated in traditional style with all the unpopular passengers being dunked in the baths. When I awoke this morning and saw good old Ireland on one side and Scotland on the other I experienced a real thrill and when we arrive in England it will be an unforgettable experience.
September 27th 1940
We duly arrived in the Lough Belfast at 11am this morning and anchored about nine miles from Belfast. Ireland looked exactly as I had always imagined it, very green and dotted with small farms about five acres in size and neatly marked off by hedgerows. Apparently they’ve had trouble in Northern Ireland with British troops so we’re not allowed to land in Belfast. Nevertheless we’re very relieved to be here as four ships from our convoy, which had gone straight to Liverpool last night, were bombed and sunk in the middle of the Irish Sea! We’ve come to Belfast because our gear for repelling magnetic mines is out of order and has to be repaired before we cross the dangerous Irish Sea. Right beside us in the Lough I can see a ship which was sunk a week ago by a magnetic mine and only her masts are showing above the water. It’s a sobering reminder! Apparently German bombers raided Belfast last night and dropped dozens of magnetic mines by parachute into the harbour. Hurricane fighters and RAF bombers roar overhead all the time. Liverpool has been bombed every night for about a week now and of course we’re expecting a raid over us at any time.
September 29th 1940
We sailed this afternoon and commenced the most dangerous part of the whole trip as the sea is full of magnetic mines and submarines. At the moment we’re listening to a description from the radio of the raid going on over Liverpool. We should arrive there in about six hours. However we’ll stop outside the harbour until daylight and hope to get in during the day. I did the first anti-aircraft watch tonight for two hours with two of our boys and it was very exciting, two planes roared overhead and fortunately turned out to be our own. We will get up at about 3am tomorrow morning to watch Liverpool; they say the anti-aircraft fire is like a fireworks display. We should be able to hear it anytime now. I have just been out on deck and we’re passing the Isle of Man. The ship is proceeding at full speed and zig-zagging all the time, while there is not a light to be seen or a sound to be heard anywhere. Living under conditions such as this and being so far away from home has given me a new perspective on life. I realise that the family circle and home mean so much more than fighting and the sooner this war is over the better. All the New Zealand boys are the same and the topic of conversation has often reverted to the subject of what we shall do “when we get home”, but for now there is a job to do, a deadly serious job.
8am September 30th 1940
So this is England! We’ve arrived in Liverpool and what a sight, flames and smoke are belching into the sky with thousands of balloons in the air above. They had a terrible raid here early this morning, a ship alongside us was blown to pieces in the harbour and we could hear the men screaming. Soon we’ll be going ashore, all of us so glad to be here safely and have the last week over. Ahead of me are my first RAF station, the mighty Spitfire, and a chance, at last, to play my part in the defence of this Grand Island.
CHAPTER FOUR
OCTOBER-DECEMBER 1940, EXPLORING ENGLAND AND LEARNING TO FLY A SPITFIRE
C/- NZ House, The Strand, London October 14th
It is time I wrote home again as we have now been in England for two weeks and of course have been living in a constant whirl attempting to see such a lot in a short time. To return to the beginning, we arrived at Liverpool on Sept 30th and spent the morning having a look around that city, including a ride through the famous Mersey Tunnel, a most amazing place. We entrained for London at 2pm and had a glorious trip down through the park-like English countryside which at the moment is a mass of golden colours. In fact, it was the same as I had always imagined England would look, very like Cambridge in autumn.
The run through London was a bit of a shock, the contrast between the beautiful parks and the tenement slums being almost unbelievable. I realised how fortunate we New Zealanders are when I saw how these Londoners live in the East End and other crowded areas. We duly arrived at Euston Station and drove in the darkness to our camp which is 18 miles from London, arriving at about 10pm. This station is merely a transfer camp and we wait here until we're posted to our squadron. It is built in a beautiful old park and is very comfortable. Of course, being New Zealanders we are left to do as we like (the English lads are far more regimented) and spent the first two days settling in and wandering around the local village. We have learned one thing, namely that a commission is really useless compared with a sergeant pilot. Our pilot officers have no time off and do duties all day, their mess fees are so high they are broke all the time and they all regard us with envy. However I suppose it will be good to get a commission eventually as it leads to promotion.
We departed on leave Oct 2nd and immediately went to London to see some of the old sights we have always wanted to see before it is too late. Pip, Bob and I stayed at the Strand Palace Hotel, a palatial place and enjoyed our first evening in London dancing in the ballroom there. New Zealanders are treated wonderfully over here and of course our wings seem to be able to get us anywhere. We had invitations to country houses and similar places but decided to stay longer in London. We dined in that famous old inn "Cheshire Cheese" in Fleet Street where I met a NZ lad, Neil Blundell, from Wellington whom I know well. I have met dozens of New Zealanders here already, many of them chaps I trained with. Sunday, we spent driving miles and miles in cars and buses seeing Downing Street, Houses of Parliament etc. and included a trip to the East End, an experience which simply shocked us. I cannot understand why people are allowed to live in these conditions. It is horrifying to see these cramped little streets with rows of tenements; they do not seem in keeping with the rest of London.
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nbsp; That night we left for Edinburgh on a free travelling warrant and arrived there early next morning. We stayed at a lovely old hotel in Princes Street, that "most famous street in the world." The day was spent seeing the sights of this ancient city and every minute of that day was a thrill. We went to the historic castle on the hill above Princes Street and saw the room where James 1st was born and other similar places. The war memorial here is the most beautiful in the world and is certainly a sight never to be forgotten. We strolled down the historic mile of Edinburgh, the oldest part of the city and saw John Knox's house. Holyrood Palace is at the end of this street and there we saw Mary Queen of Scot's bedroom and where Rizzio was murdered. Later we were invited to the Varsity and drove out to the Firth of Forth Bridge which seemed nearly as big as the Sydney Bridge.
The next day we went to Glasgow early in the morning, an hour in the train, and arrived there in rain, our first since arrival. We went to a club for New Zealanders and they were delighted to see us. They immediately set out to show us what Scotch hospitality is like. We were driven to the Municipal building and shown around, it is magnificent. The Lord Provost (or Lord Mayor as we know him) met us there and shouted us drinks in his private office and chatted for half an hour. He gave us an edition of Robert Burns poems each, a leather bound volume on flying and fighting tactics in the air, cigarettes etc. and then rang for his private secretary. He instructed him to spend the day with us and use the mayoral car. We went to a flash club for lunch and drinks at the expense of the Lord Provost and drove around Glasgow. Later we went to the theatre, also at the expense of the Lord Provost. We returned to Edinburgh that night after an unforgettable experience. This old chap is a Socialist, a former miner's son, who became editor of the Glasgow Herald, one of the best papers in the world. He wields immense power with his paper and is regarded as the man in Glasgow, an amazing personality, P.J. Dollan. He said that the Scotch people would do anything for New Zealanders; they seem to regard it as remarkable that we should come 13,000 miles to fight for them and we are looked on as heroes there. Accordingly we are all going to try to be posted to a squadron in Glasgow or Edinburgh when we commence flying and I hope I can go there.
Our Father's War Page 2
