Figure 1

The cover of Diary No. 3 shows a photograph of actress Carol Lombard (Figure 1).

Harry was sent back to the gun emplacement on Wilson’s Point after serving his ten days of Field Punishment. He arrived in time for a practice shoot of the anti-tank gun.

“MONDAY 28^TH. FEBRUARY: I returned to the gun this morning arriving just in time for our shoot. I had five shots and was credited with three hits, but the target was that badly knocked about accurate scoring was impossible. The whole gun crew shot 40 rounds and our total credited was 24, but I would say there were more that. The target was just a mass of driftwood when they towed it back. It was a floating type towed by a Higgins boat at about six knots.”

There was an official New Zealand photographer present, who returned with prints on April 3, which Dad described as “real good!” in his diary, but he records no further information. However one of the images taken that day (Figure 2) was reproduced in the book “The Gunners” from the 1952 A. H. and A. W. Reed publication series “The Official History of New Zealand in the Second World War”. The photographer is not named, but the caption below states: “A live shoot by the 54^th Anti-tank Battery guns at Wilson Point, Stirling Island.”

When I first saw this photograph, I instantly recognized my father from the stance and build of the man on the left looking through binoculars out to the channel, although he is not identified by name in the caption accompanying the picture. It was a profoundly emotional moment for me as I looked on the photograph of my father standing on the spot he was confined to for nine months in 1943 and 1944 on this tiny island at the extreme western end of the Solomons chain. The photograph gave me some visual evidence and validation of the experiences he had described in his diaries. It made his wartime journey somehow more real to me.

Dad was already some years dead when I saw this photograph for the first time, so I was not able to ask him about it, but I have no doubt, confirmed by his description of events on that day in his diary, that it is indeed Gunner Harry Stone.

Over the coming months, as the air-raids became fewer and fewer, the fear of being killed by a Japanese attack or a counter-invasion diminished and the men on Mono and Stirling had more free time. The American buildup on Stirling Island gathered pace (Figure 3):

“THURSDAY 16^TH. MARCH: Fighter and bomber planes are as plentiful around this island now as ants around an ant-hill. All day long, from dawn to dusk, they are roaring over our heads; going in to land or just taking off. We are just about at the end of the landing strip and the noise is deafening at times, this island is just loaded with gear of all types…One B25 came back the other day and the rear gunner had to be ‘hosed’ out of his gun position. He had been hit by anti-aircraft fire.” 

As the war in the Pacific moved past them and closer to the home islands of Japan, the role of the Eighth Brigade changed from an assault force to a garrison force protecting the Treasury Islands from reciprocal invasion. In spite of the idyllic tropical location – the decreasing sense of threat and increasing amount of personal time to relax (Figure 4) –  boredom and a sense of wasting the best days of one’s life, stuck on a remote Melanesian island, their mission effectively completed, must have affected morale for many of the men stuck in the Treasury Islands.

“TUESDAY 7th MARCH: Today I’m 24 – high time I had a Home started -perhaps a family too – if we could only get rid of the army I’d be right, but for the time being I’m married to it!”

“SUNDAY 19th MARCH: I went for a bit of a walk this afternoon (can’t go far on this damn island) – got fed up with doing nothing in camp – life is so boring – and I’m damn fed up with this dump.”

The authorities were obviously concerned about the problem, enough to organise activities to keep the troops preoccupied, encouraging them to participate in boat and canoe building and sailing, yacht races, swimming competitions, organising gala days, a New Year’s Day regatta in Blanche Harbour, and exhibitions of art and craft (Figures 5 and 6). Figure 6 shows a design for the cover of a catalogue for a “Solomon Islands Art Exhibition” by Duncan McPhee. It is not clear which exhibition this relates to: it may have been the solo exhibition that McPhee claims to have held in the United States, or one held in New Zealand during the war. Swimming was a popular pastime in the tropical heat, usually sans-uniform as seen in the photograph in Figure 4. At one point in his diary, Dad describes paddling a canoe around the harbour stark naked to stay cool.

Fishing was popular, often using unconventional means: Routine Order No. 87/43 reads in part: “It is NOT permitted to shoot at fish or use hand grenades for fishing. Expenditure of First Line Ammunition, except for combat purposes, will NOT be tolerated.”

The Kiwi love of gambling in any form must have been endemic. One popular activity that must have reminded the men of Home, where the popular male culture was encapsulated by the credo of “Rugby, Racing and Beer”, was, incredibly, horse-racing:

“MONDAY 7th FEBRUARY: Today is Gala Day over at Falamai, I went over and it was a great success. There were sideshows, axe chops, tug-a-wars, and the Division’s invention, horse-racing! The latter is quite a good idea – wooden horses which are moved up according to the number up on the dice thrown.”  (Figure 7).

Dad was a “tea-totaller” all his life, and he would trade his beer allocation for chocolate. Beer was the only alcoholic beverage supplied to the troops. Those wanting something different and stronger could turn to illicitly manufacturing (and trading) island hooch, made from the “unauthorized conversion” of medical supplies and other alcohol-containing materials, or brewing from fruit, juices, coconuts and vegetables.

54^th Anti-Tank Battery Routine Order 19/44 from Major Foreman contains the following warning: “There is evidence of the appearance on this island of unauthorised alcoholic liquor…Cases have recently occurred of personnel suffering serious illness as the result of drinking these types of liquor…it is hereby notified that the preparation by the brewing, distillation, or any other method of beverage with an alcoholic content if detected will be treated as a serious case of disobedience of ISLAND ORDERS which constitutes a court marshal offence with punishment by imprisonment…any personnel who are proved to have partaken of, possessed, or sold, given away or traded such liquor or have in any way been party to such sales, gift or trading will be treated as…above.”

With getting drunk as a means of escaping the dreariness of Army life in the Treasuries not an option for him, Dad turned to other forms of distraction: outdoor movies, either at the 87th CB’s camp or across Blanche Harbour at the ‘St. James’ at Falamai, reading mail, newspapers, and magazines from Home, writing letters, and occasionally making soldier art, appear to have been what kept Dad sane.

There was also time to have a group photograph taken at nearby Lakemba Cove:

“SATURDAY 8th APRIL: This afternoon all of ‘F’ Troop had their photo taken in Lakemba Cove, by…a photographer from the 82 CB. It should be a real good photo, so I am hoping to be able to get one.”

He must have ordered a copy when he got back to New Zealand: the print shown in Figure 8 was found among his wartime memorabilia.

Rumours began surfacing about going into action or on furlough to New Caledonia, or even returning to New Zealand. The rumours back Home meanwhile were of the allegedly easy life the troops were having in the Pacific. The public perception was that the men were having a pleasant time relaxing on sandy beaches in a tropical paradise, while the “real war” was being fought in Europe and the Middle East.

With most news of the fighting in the Pacific being suppressed by the Americans and the consequent public ignorance about what their forces were up to, this period resulted in the pejorative terms “coconut bombers” and “pineapple pickers” gaining currency among the New Zealand public.

In his Doctorate thesis for Massey University, “Forgotten Warriors”, Reginald Newell describes how, after returning from the Pacific War: “At least one veteran applying to join his local RSA (Returned Servicemen’s’ Association) turned on his heel and left, never to return, after being called a ‘coconut bomber’.”

The New Zealand public had little knowledge of the harsh reality of fighting conditions in the Pacific. To quote Newell again: ”The experience of individual soldiers varied, but for most it was not an enjoyable war. In the Solomons they faced a tropical environment which one historian has referred to as ‘nature’s killing machine’, and a number had their health broken. They had to face an implacable foe known to torture and execute prisoners. For many, lack of basic facilities and boredom were major problems.”

In 2010 I interviewed an Auckland veteran who, almost seventy years on, was still receiving hospital treatment for a painful, apparently un-diagnosable rash on his legs that he contracted during his service in the Pacific. His was not an uncommon experience.

“SUNDAY 17^th October 1943 (Guadalcanal): About ten days ago Colonel Blake (ex-Middle East), came back from Vella Lavella with dysentery, he said ‘Ten days fighting in the Pacific is worse than ten months in the desert!’”

The fact was that there was no further combat role for New Zealand forces in the Pacific after the Green Islands were taken by the 14^th Brigade in February 1944. The manpower shortage in New Zealand, with a population of less than two million at the start of the war, was creating serious problems. With the end of the conflict in sight, it made no sense to keep the Third Division in the Pacific. The American war machine was now making its inexorable advance toward Japan and no longer needed the relatively incidental military assistance it had been getting from New Zealand in the earlier stages of the Pacific War. After consultations with the British and Americans, it was decided to repatriate the Third Division to New Zealand.

(I emailed an American author who published a lengthy account of the effort to liberate the Solomon Islands asking whether he was aware of New Zealand’s participation and seeking comment on why there was only one very small reference to New Zealand in his entire book. He replied that he confined his comments to the countries that in his view had made a “substantial contribution”.)

The men were offered the alternative of going to Africa to join the 2^nd Division: incredibly, around 4,000 of them did so. I asked veteran Harry Bioletti, who volunteered, what made him decide to go. He replied “All my mates were going, so I thought I might as well go too.” Others, like my father, just wanted to get Home and restart their lives. They had had enough of the war. As a saw-miller by trade, Harry was eligible to return to New Zealand.

“FRIDAY 14^th APRIL: I woke up about 8 am this morning and heard the boys arguing about current rumours, so I turned over and went to sleep again…Rumours are rather thick about the essential industry business – seems we may hear more about it tomorrow. Hope so! They must be short of labour back home, and here we are, sitting on our chuffs, wasting our time on an island three miles long and half a mile wide.”

“SATURDAY 15^th APRIL: Today I heard the most welcome news I have heard since I came overseas. Though I am really afraid to put it in black and white, less it should turn out a dream, or a mistake on somebody’s part, the fact remains – we heard the list of names of the lucky beggars who are to go Home and into essential industry. Mine is one of them, thank Heaven. Nine are going from this section of the troop, seven from this gun. Fourteen from the whole troop and about half of the Battery.”

“SUNDAY 16^th APRIL: This afternoon we have been getting our kit-bags packed and ready to move over to Falamai in readiness to board ship for New Caledonia. Our gun and No. 2 gun went this morning down to Troop H.Q., down at the other end of the island. We have been rather busy, but we are all going to the pictures tonight as a ‘celebration’”. 

“MONDAY 17^th APRIL: This morning we moved our old gun site. Farewell to the jungle, the land crabs and the piquet duty. Farewell to Stirling Island. The chaps going Home have all come to Falamai and the remainder of the two gun crews went to Troop H.Q. We have just erected temporary tents and bivouacs, as we are expected to be on board within a week.” Figure 9 shows a group of soldiers assembling on a beach on Stirling Island preparing to board the ship back to New Zealand.

“TUESDAY 25^th APRIL: IT’S HERE, the President Munroe, (Figure 10) she arrived about 7.30 last night. Dozens of eyes guided her safely past Cummings Point, past Watsons Island to an anchorage in Blanche Harbour. Tonight she is a blaze of lights, as if to say ‘come aboard’. She has come from the Admiralty Islands and we are to board at 9.30 pm.” 

It’s hard to believe, looking at the photograph of the tired and battered ship today in Figure 10 (her keel was laid in 1939), could have been such a welcoming beacon for the soldiers. Lieutenant Junior Grade Richard Nixon had shipped out from San Francisco to the South Pacific aboard this vessel in 1943. After an illustrious career that involved the invasions of the Gilbert Islands, Marshall Islands, and Guam, the ship was scrapped in 1973.

“WEDNESDAY 26^th APRIL: Ship put to sea at 7 am, the Treasuries disappeared over the horizon just as they had come up so many months ago, but looked better disappearing. Ship rolling slightly, wonderful tucker, but I am wet-nursing my stomach like hell and don’t feel at all good. Two (American) destroyers are escorting us: they look so pretty cutting effortlessly through the water.”

The ship pulled into Noumea Harbour at 4 pm on Saturday April 29 1944. Dad disembarked at 2 pm the next day.

“SUNDAY 30th APRIL: Disembarked about 2 pm this afternoon and went ashore on “flat-tops” (flat barges) (Figure 11) – we landed in the navy dock and boarded trucks for B.T.D. (Base Training Depot). The 100 mile trip took about 6 hours, tar seal half the way, and oceans of dust for the rest. We were filthy when we arrived at B.T.D. (about 5 miles out of Bourail) but we had been there before and expected it. A good feed was on hand and went down real good.

“We were finally shown to a big tent and 14 of us slept a cold and hard night on a dirt floor. The trip up from Noumea was about the coldest trip I’ve ever experienced.”

Figure 11

Like many of the men, Harry developed a skin rash which was the result of the sudden change in climate: after months of sweating constantly in the equatorial latitudes, their systems had difficulty adapting to the comparatively cold climate of New Caledonia.

It quickly became apparent that the facilities at the camp were being put to te test by the influx of thousands of returning soldiers waiting for the transport ships that would take them Home:

“MONDAY 1st MAY: Mess queues are amazing – quarter of a mile long and about four of them at that. Yet they go through reasonably fast.”

As the wait for the transport ships to take the men back to New Zealand wore on, boredom and monotony set in, partially alleviated by distractions such as football games, swimming, and of course movies.

Dad seems to have gone to a new film almost every night:

“FRIDAY 19th MAY: I went down to see a movie at the Bourai Club last night but it started to rain and as I want to keep my clothes clean and dry, I came back to the tent when the rain set in just after the ‘shorts’ had been shown.”

 The Bourail Club, also called the Kiwi Club, (Figure 12) was specifically built by the National Patriotic Fund Board as a rest and recreation center for the 3^rd Division troops returning from the Solomons. It was a very popular building with the troops waiting to return to New Zealand.

Figure 12

There were to be endless work parties (performing work obviously intended to keep the men preoccupied but of questionable value), parades, kit inspections, and medical and dental examinations in the weeks that followed.

“SATURDAY 13th MAY: I was due for a working party this morning doing a bit of fencing, but when we arrived there were no posts so the job ended there…Have done nothing since but hang around the tent lines, scared to go anywhere in case we are wanted for a medical or something, which would spoil our chances to go Home.”

 “MONDAY 29th MAY: Things are at a standstill – still very monotonous. For such a big base camp this place is disgraceful, ablutions for so many men are disgusting and sanitary facilities are awful for so many men. The food is getting worse each day too – I’m hungry all the time.

“A chap died of malaria at the concert on Friday night. The boys near him thought he was drunk by his actions, and when he fell to the ground and stayed there, they thought he had gone to sleep but he was dead…”

There were also noncompulsory lectures which were intended to condition the troops for their return to civilian life:

“MONDAY 22nd MAY: I went to Church last night and later a lecture by Bishop Gerrard on “Marriage and Family” – it was a very good lecture.”

A little over a month after arriving in Bourail, Dad and his mates were moved to an American owned transit camp at Dumbea, about twelve miles from Noumea:

“MONDAY 5th JUNE 1944: It is an American camp on loan to the New Zealanders. We were given a fair lunch and a wonderful tea – fresh roast pork! In the convoy I came down on there were 20 trucks (15 men per truck).”

The day after arriving at Dumbea, he boarded an American transport ship for the journey back to New Zealand:

“TUESDAY 6th JUNE 1944: We left the transit camp at Dumbea at 10.30 and arrived at Noumea without any further to-do. Then we boarded a barge (flat-top) and went out to our transport – the “U.S.S. Tryon” (Figure 13), about 7000 tons. After some time had passed, we were shown to our quarters and by then the ship was underway (at least the U.S. Navy doesn’t muck about). I made my bed and joined the mess queue. It was blowing a half gale and I knew the going would be rough once we got outside the reef. By the time I got my “chow” the ship was through the reef and diving into the head seas. I kissed my meal goodbye and heaved it over the side to save it an indirect route through my stomach. Then I went below and got “on my back”.

Figure 13

The journey to Auckland was to be rough and must have been very unpleasant. Dad spent most of his time on his back in his bunk. The smell of vomit pervaded the ship, which headed into stormy seas without reducing speed: “On a trip to the toilet, during a bad patch of roughness, I was thrown against the wall of a passage and held there, until the ship rolled the other way, then I was thrown the other way again. Movement was almost impossible for some time. It was uncanny.”

“FRIDAY 9^TH JUNE 1944: I heard a rumbling noise from the bow at 3.30 am this morning and noticed that all motion had stopped. I got up at 5 am and rushed on deck to have a look – and there we were, anchored off Rangitoto, Auckland’s sacred mountain, with the red beacon flashing as it has done ever since I can remember.

“We finally docked at 9 am and I was off ship at 9.20 – Home at Last.”

My father was discharged from the New Zealand Army on 18 July 1944 (Figure 14). He never touched a gun of any description again, and forbade my two brothers and me to have anything to do with them growing up, saying “Guns were invented for one reason: to kill”. He applied for his service medals in the years following the war, and these are amongst his war memorabilia. They are generic medals, without identification details or where he served. Engraving these details for all of the New Zealand servicemen in WW2 would apparently have taken six years to complete, longer than WW2 itself lasted. The government decided not to do this.

Figure 14

Until very recently, Harry’s dog-tags (Figure 15) were housed in a wooden box amongst his war medals. They have recently vanished. The photograph in Figure 15 is now the only record of them.

Footnote: Harry was keen to get back into boating when he returned to his parents’ home in Warkworth north of Auckland, and asked his younger brother Bob if he had been looking after his beloved dinghy. He was devastated to be informed that the boat had been sold while he was away. “We didn’t think you’d be coming back”, he was told.

Figure 15