WHERE ALL IS NOT QUIET ON THE

New Zealand Listener, Volume 14, Issue 341, 4 January 1946, Page 12

WHERE ALL IS NOT QUIET ON THE

WATERFRONT German Dive-Bombers on The Shores of the Waitemata

UCKLANDERS had a retroL spective shiver of excitement when wartime security was relaxed and they learned that Japanese planes had actually been over their harbour. But what the Majority of them don’t know-such is the power of censorship-is that German planes have been dive-bombing and strafing ships on the Auckland waterfront for years now, and in Wellington too, for that matter. What’s more, you can still see them do it if you know where to look-and if you are lucky enough to get the necessary invitation. Until now these planes have been a ‘very. closely guarded" secret, but a Listener representative had a look at them the other day and got dive-bombed and strafed in the process. It wasn’t such a bad experience-unnerving perhaps in peaceful surroundings-but at least he was able to fire a pan of Lewis gun ammunition back at them and 30 or 40 rounds of cannon-shell of the "Chicago piano" variety. It may comie as an anti-climax to learn that all this rowdy and warlike activity occurs at the press of a switch in an unprepossessing little shanty on the waterfront, but for anyone who has been through it, the Navy’s Dome Trainer is no anti-climax. Few training devices thought up during the war can compare with it, either in the complication of its equipment or in the verisimilitude with which it reproduces the sights and sounds of battle. The Dome Trainer is in reality only half a dome-or, more exactly, ‘the quarter of a sphere, with a radius of about 15 feet. It is lit by strip lighting on the rear, semi-circular wall which is lined with perforated" fibreboard’ to absorb any confusing echo from the sound-system-the acoustics of the dome are excellent. In the centre of the floor, enclosed by a stout steel tail, is a variety of equipment all ruggedly constructed, while the curved section of the dome is smoothly finished in off-white, with the exception of a’ band of shore-sea green coming up about three feet from floor level.

As we came in the door, the officer escorting us pressed a switch and the dome was suffused with that peculiar luminous colour which hack-writers (like ourselves) refer to as the "violet dusk of the Northern (or Southern) latitudes," depending on whether we are writing for Souther:. (or Northern) readers. The effect was rather like that obtainéd in the "atmospheric" picturetheatres which were such a_ sensation when they first appeared here in the late twenties and early ‘thirties, except that there were no tinsel stars to distract

the attention and the zenith of the dome was lost in the dim light. © Before the show began the twilight was switched off and replaced by something more like the cold light of common day, so that we could inspect the various pieces of apparatus used. First of all, we noticed a heavy, steel-plated gadget down on the floor level which looked remarkably like a film projector with, about 18 inches or two feet in front of

it, a plate-glass mirror a foot square mounted at an eccentric angle on a steel rod. It turned out to be a projector after all, which cast its imagés on the mirror, the latter reflecting them on the plaster surface of the dome. As the film turned, the mirror swung slowly, carrying the reflected image across the soaring curve of the dome. Just in front of the rear wall and in the centre-about where the pips would be if the dome were the quarter of an apple-there are two gun-mountings. One of these is a power operated turret, the other simply a monopod light

machine gun. mounting, rather’ like the Motley mounting the Army used to have on L.A.F.V.’s. There were no_ guns mounted on either, but grips were provided for the trainees and the equipment was handled precisely as if there were guns being used. On the light mounting, for example, there was a cross-bar at the top of the monopod, with a handgrip on either

side and, on top, a peep-hole and @ centred ring-sight similar to those which can be seen offset on either side of a Bofors anti-aircraft gun. Mounted like a radio microphone on a steel rod about six feet ‘high was a glass-fronted metal box the size ‘of a small bully-beef tin. This gadget-it turned out to be a range-indicator-is just out of the line of vision of a trainee working either of the gun mountings. t There were a number of other recon-dite-looking objects (possibly switchboxes, amplifiers, electric motors and their accompanying cables) arranged with unobtrusive precision on the floor, and hanging from hooks on the rail running round the enclosure were numerous reels of film, each in a solid-looking metal container. Everything, in fact, was so solidly constructed that one might have imagined that it was designed to resist the shock of actual bombardment rather than reproduce the sitnulacrum of it. Under Fire "Let us have one of the dive-bombing reels, Crawshaw," said our Lieutenant to a rating who accompanied us (his name wasn’t Crawshaw, but we like to respect the Navy’s penchant for anonymity). Crawshaw selected a reel of film -it was blue in colour and, we were told, was a special type for the jobthreaded it through the spools and guides of the projector with competent fingers and switched on the lamp inside, "We'll have to let it warm up a bit," he said and proceeded to check over the various points and plugs in the mechanism, set the angle of the reflecting mirror and do a number of other mysterious things. Throughout our brief acquaintance with him, we felt we should address him as Mr. Crawshaw. He was so obviously one accustomed to instruct and correct in a highly scientific subject; at the moment he might have been a research worker preparing to bombard some unfortunate, atom in the rarefied atmosphere of a . higher physics laboratory. "Should be about ready now, Sir," murmured Crawshaw. The light switch clicked, at one stride came the dark and

@ thin rod of white light struck the mirror and ricochetted back across the dome. In the blue vault above us there appeared a circle of light, and in it clouds. Slowly this spotlight moved across and upwards. Through a gap in the,clouds a tiny black silhouette-no larger than the smut on a window-pane-appeared and to our ears came the roar of aero engines, muted still by distance, but unmistakable. The moving plane moved up the sky-by this time, intent on watching the ieisurely preliminaries to sudden death, we had quite forgotten cur immediate surroundings. Higher the plane crawled, lazily one wing-tip rose as it banked steeply for the dive. Now it was plunging towards us. There was a sharp click near our head. In the little bully-beef box an orange light shone behind the figure "2,000." . "Range 2,000 feet,’’ chanted the Lieutenant, then "Range 1,700 feet..... aoe. teat The distant stutter of machine-gun fire superimposed itself on the noise of the engines. "You’re under fire," remarked the Lieutenant conversationally, and we felt like it too. It may have been the ultrafine acoustics. of the place, but this was better than any newsreel stuff. This was the real thing-at any rate it had’ been the real thing for someone. We wanted to duck but knew it would be undignified even if it were excused as force of habit and we thought, not without admiration, of the cameraman who had made the film. And wondered, too, as one can do sometimes in the passage of a split second, how many films he managed to make before he was caught by the bullets we could only hear, or before he got a safer assggnment. The plane was still diving steeply towards us and it was now possible to identify it — a Junkers twin-engined dive-bomber-then the pilot pulled back on the stick and it roared up and over our heads, the arrogant black crosses showing distinctly on the wings. As it pulled out of the dive there came the thin whistle of the bombs, first faint then screaming loudly downwards. Then the roar of a near-miss which seemed to rock the deck. ? We ran a finger under our collar and tried to resume normal breathing. The Spot Before the Eyes The projector was still turning but now the mirror shot the image back to its original starting-point and once again the clouds opened and at the self-same moment the plane appeared again, climbing across and upwards, "Two separate attacks are shown on each reel," explained the Lieutenant, "and each attack is shown four times. In that way it is easier for trainees to correct their mistakes. Now notice how the sights show up on the screen." He grasped the cross-bar attachment on the lm.g. mounting and, looking through the peep-hole, directed, the sights at the plane. The ring-sight at once appeared in orange silhouette on the screen. The range-box above us clicked again as the plane dived. "Now notice the yellow spot just ahead of the plane on the screen," we were told. We had been too steamed up the time before to see it, but there it was drifting down, always just ahead of the machine. That, we were told, was the Future Position Indicator and when the image cast by the sights on the screen centred on this yellow spot and moved with it, the supervising instructor knew that the trainee was allowing the amount of "lead" necessary to bring his

fire to bear on the aircraft. The trainee, |! however, was himself unable to see the yellow spot, for the peep-hole through which he looked at the target was fitted with a yellow glass filter. More Sound and Fury

Down came the Junkers again in identical attack, like a recurrent nightmare. Again the pilot pulled out and we saw the cold grey belly of the plane, the empty bomb-racks and the bleak, black crosses and we felt our stomach muscles bunch in RE te atk of the explosion. "Care to have a try an getting it in the sights?" asked the Lieutenant. Having been taking it now for a good 200 feet of film, we thought it would at least be something if we could even lay a bead on the enemy. We stood behind the l.m.g. mounting and grasped the crossbar attachment. The image of the sight moved (wobbled would be a better word) across the dome and followed the film as it swung slowly upwards for the third time. We knew enough about the effective range of small-arms fire not to open up as soon as the plane appeared, but instead did our best to swing the sights ahead of the machine. We watched it bank and begin the dive and we heard the first click from the knowing little box on the upright alongside us. That meant 2,000 feet-rather outside I.m.g. range if our memory served. At the 1,500-foot click we gave tongue-"Opening fire." "All right, just press the metal bar on the grip." We did, and an infernal row broke loose from somewhere around our feet. "BONG-BONG-BONG-BONG-BONG-BONG." We grabbed for an imaginary tin-hat, feeling certain that the muzzle-blast must have carried it overboard, and the uproar ceased as suddenly as it had begun. "Cannon-fire," explained the Senior Service laconically.: "Try some smaller stuff." A switch clicked over and our now sweaty palms clutched the grips again. The bomber was. now almost at the nadir of its dive. As it ae out we gave it the works. "Tat-tat-tat- pao ae as This was better, this was the noise we knew. The Junkers was screeching up again. ". . . tat-tat-tat-tat ... ."-there was a sudden silence. We squeezed frenziedly. No good. "No more ammo.-you’ve shot away the equivalent of one pan of Lewis-gun ammunition," explained the Lieutenant, "and when that happens the sound cuts off automatically." You’ve got to admit it, the Navy is prepared for most contingencies, even in class-room traini We remained to watch the third repeat of the first attack and saw the second ‘version through its four presen-tations-and we had another bong or two with the Chicago piano, for the juvenile dies hard in most of us. Then the violet dusk of the Northern (or Southern) latitudes faded and = houselights went on once more. We thanked the admirable Ceodeiiias and our friend the Lieutenant and stumbled out blinking into the sunlight once again. Overhead a big Dakota transport bumbled placidly towards Whenuapai aerodrome, carrying mail and homewardbound airmen. But there wasn’t a Junkers dive-bomber in sight anywhere and we felt that perhaps after all the Dome Trainer had had quite a bit to do with that happy state of affairs.