My Account
Doug Clark’s memories of World War II may not be filled with desperate exploits, fear and danger, but they are similar to those of many other Kiwi blokes. The Orewa resident, now aged 87, was an armourer with the NZ air force – a role that may have been routine on a day-to-day basis, yet was pivotal to the troops. He says his biggest battle was to stay sane, during time spent in remote jungle outposts throughout the Pacific. He spoke to Terry Moore about his days as a serviceman.
Like a lot of chaps my age, growing up in Te Awamutu in the 1930s, I did cadets at school and joined the territorials when I left school at the age of 16. It was for fun really. We practiced with rifles and bayonets, wearing old World War I uniforms, did target practice and marching – Boy’s Own stuff. My parents had a transport business and I would have taken this over, but the war intervened. In 1940 my regiment, the 16th Waikato, was called up to train more intensively at Cambridge on the racecourse. We were mobilised in December 1941 when the war with Japan started, and moved to a camp in Claudelands Showground in Hamilton where our accommodation was in sheep pens and everything was pretty basic. Training there was full on, with live ammunition and old-time machine guns from World War I mounted as anti-aircraft guns. They were antiques even then – the New Zealand army was pretty badly equipped for war. In February 1942 we were marched from Hamilton to Papakura, which took just over three days, camping at night in the bush. There were around 500 of us in the regiment, so it was quite an expedition.
By then I’d had enough of marching and I applied to join the air force. I fancied flying, but in the end chose to enlist in the ground crew, in the armaments section. After an armaments course I was posted to Whenuapai as an armourer. We loaded bombs in the planes, put the fuses in them, loaded ammunition in the machine guns and serviced all the guns and turrets. Our unit – Number 10 Servicing Unit – was posted with the squadron overseas in 1943. Because I was only 20, my mother had to sign a form so that I could go. We sailed to Guadalcanal in the Solomon Islands on the USS Pinkney. We were fortunate on this ship as we had three meals a day whereas a lot of American transports only provided two meals a day. When we got to the canal, we went into a camp at Henderson Field Air Force Base – which is now the Solomon Island’s airport. We were loading bombs, replacing ammunition and doing all the servicing for around four months while the forces fought the Japanese in the islands north of us.
The Americans took a perimeter area in Bougainville – basically a piece of land hacked out of the bush – and that was our next posting. As ground crew, you had to work whenever you were needed and often that meant all night. I remember once an American concert party came to perform at the camp and we were really excited, as entertainment was a rare thing for us. It was also a chance to see women, after a very long time, as there were no women on base and we were out in the sticks with no towns to visit when we had leave. Unfortunately we had to go and do bomb loads that evening and got back just in time for the final item. Apart from our perimeter area, the Japanese were all around. Occasionally our airstrips were bombed, and once I remember a shell landing a few metres away, but the army was quite successful at that stage in keeping the Japanese back.
It was perhaps typical of the services at the time that we were trained in English armaments and equipment, but all the gear we had to work on was American. At Bougainville they gave us a bit of training but it was a bit late by then. We were told, for instance, that the main charge in the bomb could explode if it was dropped eight to 10 feet – and we had been dropping them onto trolleys from a great height for sometime without knowing that. I guess we were pretty lucky. All the time I was working on the bombs and guns I never gave the fact that these were to be used for killing people a moment’s thought. That was the job that I was there for, and I simply got on and did it as best I could.
I’d been overseas for a year and was granted a few weeks leave back in New Zealand, then sent from Whenuapai back to Papua New Guinea, this time to Jacquinot Bay. It was mainly Australian armed forces there, and the New Zealand air force. By then the Japanese were being pushed back all the time and things were looking more positive for our troops, but for ground crew Jacquinot Bay was a shocking place. It rained all the time; for a full week the planes couldn’t take off because of the rain. Our bedding and boots were always wet. One of the biggest enemies for us, as ground crew, was monotony. We stayed in places that had no access to civilisation and yet had to somehow stay sane. The squadron put on a film show outside every evening, and we would sit there and watch it even if it was raining cats and dogs. I also remember seeing a performance by Gracie Fields and we sat in the rain and watched her too – things like that really stick in your mind, because they stopped us from going crazy. I didn’t even play Poker as others did, because the only time I played I lost $100!
I suppose you could say the food wasn’t too bad. We had a lot of tinned stuff and a fair bit of mutton when we did get meat, plus American spam and sausages. Although we were in the tropics, we didn’t get a lot of fresh fruit and vegetables apart from the odd pawpaw. Alcohol was limited to the occasional beer as there were no bars to visit. It was really hot and there was no way to get out of the heat because we lived in tents. Mosquito nets were essential, and snakes and crocodiles were also around. A year of that and you’d really had enough.
After peace was declared, the old ship Wahine (not the one that sank in Wellington harbour) took me back home. It was a bit of luxury – a cabin and pretty good food. We walked off the ship and were put straight on demobilisation leave. I never went back to the air force. I’d had five years in uniform and couldn’t wait for a bit of civilian life. I tried farming at first but it was too lonely after I’d been used to the company of mates in the services. Through the rehabilitation scheme, I got an adult apprenticeship as a motor body builder, building and repairing cars. In those days they had wooden frames and I enjoyed building buses, ambulances and cars. Once they went to all metal models I changed tack and became a builder, mainly doing company maintenance.
My twin brother Ron went into the war late in the piece and served in Italy, then went to Japan with the occupation forces. We were a very lucky family really. I have around a dozen cousins who all served overseas and they all came back. I have five children of my own, and two of them join me every year for the Anzac service at the Silverdale RSA. I don’t think of my own involvement at the service, but of my father who served in World War I and rarely spoke of it, my stepfather who was a veteran who fought in Gallipoli and my brother, who passed away last year.
I went back to Guadalcanal two years ago on a cruise with a mate. It was a wonderful trip, but of course the places were unrecognisable after all this time. I went to Bloody Knoll in Guadalcanal, so-named because of a battle that took place there, and found a concrete memorial, painted white with nothing on it. Apparently there had been a brass plaque there in honour of the fallen but it had been stolen. It was also upsetting going to the war cemetery at Rabaul, filled mainly with Australians. It was terribly sad to read inscriptions about all the young men who perished. The war was a total waste of human life – and we don’t learn; the fighting still goes on around the world. I don’t regret my part in it. It was a terrible time, but there were certainly some good times too and wonderful camaraderie.
