Pubs Down Under
Drinking was the main pastime of Marines while in Wellington (1943). The pubs, following the age-old tradition of opening and closing at precise times, always had a queue of men waiting for the bars to open. They opened about 1300 and closed at about 1700, in time to get husbands home for dinner — if they could walk! The Marines were heavy drinkers and often consumed their daily ration in quick time. The places often had a serving of snacks, as they would be called today. Little pieces of toast or bread with some kind of cheese, sausage, or some such thing. They lasted about five minutes.
You had to fight your way to the bar to get a drink, the places were so crowded, and the tables were filled as well. Many places had a section for ladies that was well aside from the roughness of the main bar, where the language and boisterous nature of the place was well in evidence. This was reminiscent of the American saloon early in the 20th century, before prohibition.
The food in Wellington's restaurants was good but plain. Gourmet quality was lacking, although the troops probably wouldn't have recognized it even if it had been present! Morning, noon and night, the dish most ordered by Marines was steak and eggs. Well, maybe not that often, but mostly. An awful lot of lamb is served in NZ, although most Yanks weren't too fond of it as most hadn't been raised on lamb. There was, however, good chicken, duck and beef. The fish was delicious and mostly served as fish and chips from a "take away" fish stand along the street. Wrapped in a newspaper, the combination was an excellent choice for a late night snack.
Fisticuffs — Kiwis vs. Marines
The most trouble that occurred between Kiwis and Marines was the occurrence of a fight that started in a theater and spilled out into the street. For about two blocks the street was filled with fist-swinging Marines and NZ forces and civilians. It started from a snide remark made by a NZ soldier in the theater about the American flag. One punch led to another and before long there was fighting all along the street. The MPs broke it up after an hour and a lot of black eyes and bloodied noses. The division commander passed word that if it happened again — he'd turn the Marines loose on the town. Clearly he blamed the Kiwis for the incident. Marines were told to travel in pairs or groups and to ignore any slights that might occur. It quieted down and all went well after that.
However, the division was not there for fun and games. They had a war to fight.
Training and replenishing troops was the most important task of the moment. The company's losses had not been large, and it picked up a dozen or so men for replacements. Some were for the men who'd been decimated from malaria, as well as those wounded and killed. They were assimilated into the troops and sent to train with the old hands, who were well qualified on the weapons indigenous to the company. After regrouping and filling ranks, the company was sent on firing maneuvers to Wiauru, north of Paikak. There the open plains and low hills were ideal for the kind of mission that was the forte of Regimental Weapons. The half-tracks and .37-mm anti-tank guns had all the room they needed to display their talent.
Wiauru was not much of a town. Like Paikakariki it supported a pub, petrol station, grocery store combination, and a few houses. There was a photographer also, where the Kid and a couple of pals got there photos taken after getting well plastered on local beer.
Promotion
Before going to Waiuru the Kid had made acting mess sergeant by virtue of his service in the mess and the officers' satisfaction with his performance. Sergeant Ruse had managed to get himself transferred to the battalion bakery, where he had always wanted to be. Sergeant Polovino had been mess sergeant but had to have an operation, which left the Kid as next in line. He was made corporal and as such acting mess sergeant. The suited him fine — no guard duty, open-gate liberty and a Jeep to drive. Wow!
The layout of the camp at Waiuru was typical. A center of tents for the troops and an old NZ army camp shed, which was appointed officers' country, and an old Quonset hut that made due for the mess hall and cooking facilities. One end of the hut was designated the bunk room for the mess cooks and the mess sergeant. A field phone was established to keep the mess crew in touch with the CO or any officer whose duty it was to coordinate the feeding of the troops when on field maneuvers.
All went well with the maneuvers. The gun crews left early in the morning for the firing ranges along with the half-track crews. They spent the day setting up positions, firing, and then hastily changing positions to fire in another direction or another place. It got to be routine as most things repeated do. The troops spent their evenings playing cards (mostly blackjack) in their tents. The weather was cold and windy. To offset the draftiness of the tents the men only partially raised them so the lower flaps or sides were folded inward, forming a floor and sealing the corners against the wind. There was no electricity, so the men lit candles to play or read by. They only went into town on weekends, which was all the fun they could afford.
One day the officers went hunting in the area, which was known for its game fowl. They came back with three geese, which they bade the Kid and the crew to prepare for them. The crew was not too thrilled with the prospect of doing this as they would not share in the fare. They quoted field regulations that said the officers were to be fed the same rations as the men with no extra efforts required on their behalf. That left the Kid in a quandary. He knew the crew was right as far as regulations were concerned, but that was not going to play too well with the officers.
The geese were thrown in the garbage and left there. After a while the "old man" realized something was wrong and sent for the Kid. Haltingly he explained what had happened and quoted the regulations pertinent to the field manual. That did not go over well and the Kid was chewed out in no uncertain terms and sent back to the crew with the orders to fix those geese and serve them -- or else! Returning to the group he recanted the tale and grabbed the chief cook and between them they managed to cook and serve the fowl. He would have sworn the geese were rotten, having lain there a couple hours. But apparently they were not. They ate them and even complimented the cooks on their efforts.
Range safety
The Kid was not completely cut off from the maneuvers in his temporary job as mess sergeant, and was expected to add his expertise to the efforts. On mornings after the guns were fired on the range, the duds had to be removed or exploded. The Kid took his pack of dynamite and TNT and a Jeep and went looking for the dud shells. Most of the time the shells were marked with a stake and a flag. He and his helper from the armory shed would cruise the field looking for duds. When one was found, the Kid would lay a charge beside it and set it off, exploding the shell. It was great fun, just like the Fourth of July. The .37-mm shells were much more stable and could've been dropped with no probable bad results.
But the .75-mm shells were more delicate and had to be left where they lay. The Kid thought everyone knew this. Everybody did know this, except the yardbird that was his assistant one day. They had arrived at the area that was the firing range the day before and were glad to see that dud shells had all been tagged with a bit of cloth on a stick. He stopped the Jeep about 25 feet from the shell and proceeded to gather the wires and charges he was going to use.
His helper jumped out of the Jeep and walked over to the shell that lay next to a small depression. The Kid looked up in time to see him take his foot and push the shell over the edge of the depression — causing it to roll down the slight incline! The Kid froze. There was no time to yell or even hit the deck. The shell rolled to a stop a few inches away and stopped. No bang. After the Kid regained his composure, he yelled and cussed out the poor undereducated boot to the best of his ability. Then he sat him down and taught him the fundamentals of range safety.
Tents for the troops and an old Quonset hut as chow hall
1942 Chronology
01 Feb — Gilbert & Marshall Islands
24 Feb — Wake Island
04 Mar — Marcus Island
18 Apr — Doolittle raid on Tokyo
4-6 Jun — Midway
07 Aug — Guadalcanal landings
24 Aug — Eastern Solomons
26 Oct — Santa Cruz
12-15 Nov — Naval battle of Guadalcanal
Click to read WWII Marine Dick Bailey's account of Guadalcanal, Tarawa, Saipan
