PRACTICE ON SKIS

Wairarapa Times-Age, 25 May 1942, Page 4

PRACTICE ON SKIS

NEW ZEALANDERS IN SYRIA STRENUOUS WORK. HIGH STANDARD OF FITNESS REQUIRED. (Official War Correspondent N.Z.E.F.) CAIRO, April 30. The Division now has the nucleus of a mountain formation as a result of training which picked officers and men have had at the Ninth Army ski school, formerly the Australian ski school, somewhere in Syria. This is intensive training, the toughest any New Zealand troops have yet had —hours of long-distance ski-ing with packs and rifles, a high standard of fitness a'nd endurance rather than racing. The day after they are introduced to skis the students make an eight-mile traverse of mountains by ski to accustom them to altitude and alpine conditions. The rest of the course is of the same standard. Early in March the first New Zealand students,’ arriving at the school nearly 7,000 feet high in the Lebanon Mountains, found the whole area deep in snow, and further falls came later in March. There is now more rock than snow, but ski-ing is still possible for several weeks yet. There have been only two days of bad weather since the New Zealanders came.

The small instructing staff was soon increased by the best New Zealand pupils from ski and alpine clubs in Taranaki, Ruapehu and the South Island. The majority soon passed the recruit’s test equivalent to the New Zealand ski ciub Q— 3 certificate, but the advanced test is the most difficult. It includes a time-limited climb of 3,000 feet, firing five shots rapid on foot at a target from a hundred yards, ski-ing down 3,000 and again firing. Out of 67, ten passed. The shooting after the gruelling climb disqualified many. The chief instructor, an ex-captain of the British Olympic ski team, emphasised that it was no holiday, and was the first to prove it. At the end of a few weeks the skiers are expected to cover long distances at high altitudes without fatigue; to lead patrols and fight the enemy wherever he is encountered. The equipment and instructors are first-class; the soldiers provide the energy and enthusiasm. Only eighteen New Zealanders up to date have failed to finish the course. The assistant instructors include the Egmontites, Captain Pat Kporey, Lieutenants Keith Cross, John Carryer,. Sergeant Max Ritter. Corporal J. H. L. Curran; the South Islanders, Lieutenant John Rolleston, Sergeant-Major Mick Bowie, Staff Sergeant XL N. Johnson; Ruapehu!tes, Corporal L. H. Frost, Private Harold Tilbury.

The ski school day begins early. At five o’clock the whistles sound in the corridor from a civilian chalet. The greenish-white ski pants are pulled on, square-toed ski boots laced up, blankets rolled and rooms cleaned. A typical New Zealand breakfast is taken at six. Then the skis (here pronounced skees) are waxed, gear inspected for parade at seven in the courtyard. “School, Attention. Slope skis, Instructors take over. March off.” The paths lead through snowfields like Ruapehu, but far below orange-roofed cottages dot the green terraced hillsides, roads and tracks sweep across; the landscape and disappear in a turbulent sea of clouds. Some sections stay on the nursery slopes to learn elementary turns; others, rifles and packs on their backs, climb' to a saddle of snow, fine and hard like New Zealand summer snow- The sun is hot, and jackets are soon pulled off. The skis hiss over the lower valleys, while 3,000 feet above the advanced students rest for brief minutes. “Remember that outrun on the Fantham’ side of the crater of Egmont? That was a schuss.” “Remember our last run down to the Ball Hut in 39?” The sun rising, snow softening, skis pointed down for the long run home, rifle on the back drags in a way unknown in the days of peace.

For a lecture on military ski-ing in the afternoon, the students gather in a sun balcony, overlooking the fertile valley. Hot tea in the messrooms, and then off to the snowfield again. Shadows lengthen, the snow crispens, and back for early dinner, and for tonight, two hours’ ski-ing. Cold stars glittered in the purple sky as the ski. company went single file over the icy-hard slopes. Travers, Kickton; Travers. Only tiny moving shadows broke, the vast solitude, only the rattle of skis broke the vast silence. It is not easy ski-ing in the dark, when you don’t see bumps, dips and rises. At last the sections turned homewards, boots were kicked off. Hot showers, and many tired men waiting for bed. No winter holiday is right but they are enjoying it.