THE TROOPS GO ABOARD

New Zealand Listener, Volume 3, Issue 53, 28 June 1940, Page 2

THE TROOPS GO ABOARD

(By

O.A.

G.

HE embarkation of units of the 2nd Echelon was a_ justification of military organisation and a monument to efficiency, There was not one hitch through’ the whole night. From the time the men began to climb the gangways after Jeaving their trains they were embarked atthe average rate of 800 an hour. Qld soldiers with hard memories of the last war stood in admiration and remarked of the organising officers as a whole: "Nice work. sir, nice work." Military praise can go no further. From early evening until early the following morning (the day of departure) trains bearing the various units arrived from Palmerston North, Trentham and Papakura at their allotted times. Within minutes after the trains reached their destination® on’ the wharves opposite the waiting troopships the men were aboard. Officers of each ship, accustomed to handling crowds quickly and without flurry, assisted the embarkation staff by meeti the men as they arrived on board afid guiding them to their quarters by means of a helpful endless chain of stewards. All through the day before embarkation began the public thronged the wharves where the troopships were berthed. Many people had waited from early morning in the hope that they might see relatives and friends as they marched to the ships. But there was no marching; no chance for a last-minute handshake or hurriedly whispered farewell message. At 4.30 p.m. the wharf gates closed, excluding the public from all embarkation areas. It was a necessary and essential measure if the work, planned long beforehand, was to be executed smoothly Not until after midnight did the crowds cease fluttering their flags and handkerchiefs between the formidable barrier of iron railings. The moving material rose and fell like the wheeling of giant moths in the wan light. Just before dawn people were still there, vainly trying to win over the sentries who guarded the gates-but those sentries remained adamant. Arrival of Maoris First came the Maoris. Just before 5 o'clock cheers in the distance announced their approach. As the train bearing them came to rest beside the ship they drowned the noise of all activity by their singing. Those who heard it were inspired by the rich voices joined in harmony as night came down over the scene-their last night in New Zealand, lit now by are lamps about the wharf, sheds and ships. Along the sides of each railway carriage the wits had chalked their grandiose threats and challenges -- "Hitler’s Pallbearers," "Ready for Berlin," "Hitler, We're After You," and others more startling in their frankness: _ The Maoris contributed to one of many memorable pictures that night as they disernbarked on to the wharf, Dusk

had fallen over the calm harbour: Up and down the hills of the city lights sprinkled the gloaming with stars, High overhead searchlights were feeling about the sky with long, quick fingers. Every light whose reflection was held by the still waters became an orange flame dancing into infinity about the ships. Such scenes are not easily forgotten. Many of those young Maoris stilled their singing to gaze in awe at the great ship in which they were to travel. Few of them had ever looked on one of such magnitude, Then, their wonder satisfied, they took up the thread of their song again or laughed at some companionable joke. Farewelled by Ministers In a few minutes all preliminary arrangements were completed by the waiting embarkation staff. Then, at the word of command, they mounted the gangway in single file, still singing as they disappeared into the entrance lobby of the largest ship of the convoy. Near the foot of the gangway stood the Prime Minister, the Hon. P.. Fraser, and the Minister of Defence, the Hon. F, Jones, who wished the men farewell and chatted with them as they went by. Flashing lights revealed that the camera men were busy, recording the scene for posterity. As soon as they reached their quarters the men stowed their kits and proceeded to enjoy the first shipboard meal. Two hours later I went through the ship. Nobody was gazing mournfully into the night and dwelling on the beauty of the scene. In a large and comfortable lounge hundreds of Maoris were seated round small tables. Piles of the matches and the flutter of innumerable packs of cards seemed to indicate that some game of stern importance was in progress. Others were busy reading or writing letters. A musician played one of the pianos, round which a group sang choruses. The air was heavy with smoke; the room echoed with laughter. Here and there young men in naval uniform were already making new friends 6r joining in the games. That story of efficiency and the laughter born of content was repeated on the other ships throughout the night. By 9 o'clock more singing and cheering told us that the Trentham men were coming. I watched them from the upper deck of another great liner. Carriages emptied swiftly to order as the men took up their positions in platoons on the wharf, moving to the accompaniment of gales of laughter and a stream of banter. A few minutes later they, too, were mounting the gangway, each man answering the roll and receiving an embarkation ticket as he filed past the responsible officers. There were no irritating waits, no grumbling and no cause for the usual army grouch of "fiddling" about, for the organisation was cdmplete to the last detail. And how the men appreciated that swift action; they called for cheers for one officer just before brad marched * on board,

No matter what hour of the night the men arrived on board there was a meal of some kind ready for them. As soon as they had stowed away their gear and exchanged their boots for deck shoes. they were free to find their way about the ships and admire the comfort of their homes for the next few weeks. Troops Filmed The men from Trentham were also filmed, this time by cameras from the Government Film Studios whose Kleig lights made the night more brilliant than the beams of any sun. It was a great opportunity for the lads to exploit their wit and "wisecracks" as they came opposite the cameras-the stage was theirs, and they took full advantage of the moment. From the top deck of this huge liner, towering above the roofs of the sheds, the wharf itself made a futurist picture. Pools of garish light swam among deep shadows where groups of officers and Officials walked and talked and waited for the arrival of the next trains. Cranes spread their powerful mechanical arms

into the pools, grasping goods and equipment and swinging them aboard with inhuman ease. The wharves were cleared as if by magic. Strains of music issuing from the public rooms of the ship lent further magic to this eventful night. Down below, on deck after deck, the men were busy showing each other their cabins, testing the beds, peering into cavernous wardrobes, joking at their reflections in full-length mirrors. No passenger ship was ever filled with a happier cargo of tourists. Not until the early hours of the morning of departure did the Papakura men arrive, tired after their long train journey. But they still sang and jested, jollying each other as the ship gathered them to its comfortable interior. Soon they were asleep, but the stowing of gear and supplies went on until dawn. And then, as alarm clocks roused Wellington workers to another day in the city, the great ships severed their links with New Zealand and pulled out into the stream to await the hour of departure. The 2nd Echelon was definitely on its way.