28 Years In The Army—And Now Hoping For More

New Zealand Listener, Volume 13, Issue 317, 20 July 1945, Page 11

28 Years In The Army—And Now Hoping For More

‘S"9F’VE been in the Atmy 28 years now and I hope to stop in until we see the end of the Japanese show," Major L. K. Probyn, who recently returned to New Zealand on a troopship, told The Listener as he got into his great-coat before going down the gangway. Major Probyn left Wellington in 1916 to join the Merchant Service, and has been away continuously except for a holiday visit to

New Zealand in 1939. He was in the Royal Tank Corps and | the Indian Army Ordnance Corps and is now with the A.LF. "Oh yes, I'm fit enough, except for this," he said, exhibiting an injured right hand. That, he explained, was the result of life in a German prison camp. He was taken prisoner in Crete in 1941 and was among those liberated by the American forces on April 13 this years He would not say much about that hand except that it was caused by being hand-cuffed. "Just before the United States forces came along, the guards cleared out and we took over," said Major Probyn. After seeing his mother in Wellington he will go to Australia to leave for the Japanese theatre, if he is passed medically fit. Then, when all is over, he proposes to take up again his appointment with the Munitions Supply Board in Australia. This, he says, will be very nice after a few years under German military guards. * %* % WELLINGTON’S meteorological reception on the day this ship came in was mixed, but the welcome from the crowd near the wharf was exceedingly warm for Aussies, Kiwis, and all personnel, whether they were bound for North Auckland, Invercargill or anywhere else. A band played in very quick tempo and bright sunlight chased the rain_clouds away with occasional success. ‘Maori greetings were mixed up with ‘ Australian bush calls as the vessel came alongside the wharf and, when the first of the draft began to disembark, a brilliant rainbow made a colourful dropscene over the Khandallah hills. A voice blared through the loudspeaker: "Air Force personnel will disembark first." Among them was an Australian soldier. He was helping an Air Force officer to haul his heavy bags down the gangway, and when he strolled off down the wharf, his mates still on the ship roared with laughter, recognising a

smart piece of bluff in getting ashore in quick time. The ship soon emptied, leaving only the crew on board and, in one of the recreation rooms, two reminders of the long days and nights together-a muchpitted dart-board and on the wall a notice which read: "Will the officer who borrowed Whittaker’s Almanac from the library without having it recorded, please return? Thank you."