FOR ISLAND TROOPS

Hauraki Plains Gazette, Volume 52, Issue 3258, 3 May 1943, Page 3

FOR ISLAND TROOPS

z refrigerated food ' feeding dominion men CARGO FROM NEW ZEALAND It is .so cold down there in the floodlit ship’s hold that the’ bushy-headed Fijian natives hop from one bare foot to another and flap their arms against their sides as they wait for the cargo slings to come back empty. Compared ' with the warm, muggy tropical night outside, it’s‘so cold among the frozen crackling sides of beef and mutton carcases that the natives will have to climb out soon and be relieved by an-

other gang. But what really matters is that the level of refrigerated cargo in the hold is falling 'Steadily as you watch. For. this is prime fresh food'from New Zealand farms and slaughter houses, pouring in a satisfying -stream into ’lie ' giant maw of the United Nations’ armed forces in the Pacific. I have witnessed this scene mau? ' a time at big ports and little ports m many an advanced island base. U varies a little with every base: sometimes modern wharf cranes swing the crates and carcases out of the holds, ■sometimes -.the .ship ties up ht a little wooden jetty and uses her own derrlsksi and sometimes there! is no wharf or jetty at all, and 'the cargo is loaded into barges, which ferry it ashore. Instead of Fijians, the gangs working in the holds may be New Zealand 01 American soldiers or kanakas. Used W Carry W

This ship in which I am 'travelling used to carry West Indies fruits to the New York markets. To-day hei chilly holds are regularly packed with New Zealand beef, mutton, bacon, ox livers, eggs, butter, cheese, apples and green vegetables destined to make more attractive menus for the Allied Army, Navy and Air Force in hundreds of camps and battle stations. The eggs your grocer could 1 not let you have last week may to-day be providing a rare treat for a fighter squadron in its steaming jungle camp; the twin of the fresh cabbage whose high price

annoyed you may be a luxury beyond ' all price on the rough wooden mess table of a lonbly army outpost. ' Never before has so much nor such a variety of New Zealand’s farm and market garden produce flowed overseas as in this year of the war, and never, before has the Pacific seen a food problem comparable with that of feeding the. United Nations forces which defend it. New Zealand trade names stamped on carcases, tins and boxes mingle with those of American food companies as far towards Japan as Guadalcanal Great storehouses are stacked to 'the roof %n the morning and empty in the afternoon; dieselpowered refrigerating chambers set up in palces where cold was unknown before run night and day to keep the frozen foods from thawing; ships, trucks and even planes are endlessly engaged in the task of keeping fighting men from going hungry. Not Lose Interest

I can lean on the rail of the ship for hours and! not lose interest in this merely fragmentary glimpse of food going to war. There is more than a touch of the dramatic in the rattle of the winches and the glare of the floodlights and the sense of urgency about the job. '’There is colourful atmosphere, too, provided by these Fijian natives, who go about their wdrk with the strength of strong men and the air of . happy-go-lucky children. One of them, stamping his numbed feet and breathing clouds of steam, grins broadly up at me. The relief gangs, squatting on the deck, are singing “South of the Border” in four parts, with the same sonorous beauty with which the missionaries taught to sing hymns. They obviously have not the faintest idea what the words

mean, but from where I stand the music sounds fine. And! they probably have not much idea what their job really means, but from where I stand that looks fine, too.