SWEET REPOSE

Korero (AEWS), Volume 3, Issue 13, 30 July 1945, Page 31

SWEET REPOSE

By

It was in the first week at Vella that George consolidated his claim to be

one of the really sound sleepers. There hadn’t been much time to think about a camp, of course, and the fellows were just parked here and there in the bush. Jap planes were over every night at first, and the alarm system came in for a bit of criticism. There was never a morning but George complained that he hadn’t heard the whistle, and three blasts on a peep horn didn’t seem to penetrate any better. Later, though, when'we got the siren out, we thought we were pretty right, and when the chaps about 300 yards away “ bludged ” a spare one from the Yanks we were well set up. At that stage the phone was switched over to our tent at night, and the others used to pick up the wail from the siren just outside, and repeat it.

We had a few raid-free nights, then when we had been there a fortnight an alarm came through about 0100 hours one morning. I had been well asleep, and was not feeling too happy about the war, or the Japs, as I scrambled out. I clenched my teeth and gave the handle half a dozen venomous winds before I released the shutters. It sounded terrific, and the other one took it up so promptly that they must have been a bit startled. Nothing much happened, and it was not long before I was able to give an equally vigorous “ all clear.” None of the others used to get up unless ack-ack started, or something like that, and as I got back to bed I envied George merely lying in his net in comfort, listening. Still, I had given the old siren a good burl, and in the morning I was still feeling good about it. As we groped for our boots I

said : “ Well, I certainly gave the siren a good send along last night ! ” George was still a bit fuzzy, and he looked at me for a while before he said : ‘‘What siren ? We didn’t have an alarm, did we ? ” That’s what I mean—when George goes to sleep he doesn’t mess about.

When the time came and we had landed at Nissan, we found conditions in the beginning rougher than we’d ever had. When we went to dig in, either we struck coral straight away, or we had good going for a couple of feet and it started to fill with water. Tents and cots were not coming up until later, of course, so we just pigged it under pup tents, though some lucky ones got tarps. There was a Yank radar right along side us, and for the first couple of nights it was giving frequent alarms with a sort of musical honk rather like an expensive car back home. It was a very penetrating sound which could be heard a great distance away, but we’d wait until we heard the Jap coming in a few minutes later before we’d hop down the holes into the slush. Of course, there were always those who cracked hardy, and back at Vella they’d claim after we had spent most of a night down a hole that they’d only got down about 4 o’clock when the ack-ack was heaviest overhead. Still, every one knows that those are the blokes you find cluttering up your fox-hole when you go to get in it.

The Seabees had been lucky, as they had been able to pack everything but the kitchen stove on their vehicles, which all came up in the L.S.T.s on D Day. They were decent, friendly chaps, and when one slipped in to have a cup of tea under the Y.M. lean-to, he offered to

lend George a jungle hammock. He was on night shift, so could sleep undisturbed during the day when there were no raids. “ I’ll drop one by when I go past tonight ”, he said. He was as good as his word, and George was then in seventh heaven. Those hammocks are great—you just string them up under a tree, and zip yourself inside the mosquito netting, and there you are, with a waterproof sheet above to keep out rain, and so comfortable you think you’re home again. Almost, anyway. George had always been pretty good at driving a point home, and he was insufferable about that hammock. He certainly made it clear that he was one up on us.

We all turned in early, because we were pretty certain the night would be interrupted, and we didn’t have lights, anyway. , When the first alarm jerked me out of sleep, I saw it was still early only about 11. I lay there, and soon picked up the noise of the plane. They have a tinny sound different from ours, and always reminded me of the old two-stroke bikes puttering along. None of our guns spoke up, as they didn’t want to give away positions unless a big raid made it worth while. You could hear him touring up and down outside, feeling his wav.

After a while he started to come in. We said : “ Here we go ! ” and slid out into the muck of the fox-holes. Not George, though. He was one of the crackhardy school I mentioned, and had said that he wouldn’t get up unless it were Tojo himself. From below we could see his hammock slung up there against the sky. We threw some chunks of mud at it, but he stayed put. You can guess, too, that we called out things like : “ Don’t be a silly fellow ! ”

We didn’t hear much of a swish, but the bomb landed near by in the bush, and sounded like a 90 mm. going off right by us. It jolted the ground like a sudden earthquake shock, and we all found ourselves hugging mud, and liking it. George came out fighting. That was not a time for zips, and I don’t suppose a hammock was ever wrecked quicker. He even arrived with a wisp of netting trailing round his throat. He came in as though he had been tackled, and winded both of us. Now we had him ! We sorted ourselves out and went him. “ Trying to be tough, eh ? Who is it up there, anyway—Tojo ? ” But George was fighting mad. He gritted : “ Why don’t you rouse a chap when there’s an alarm ? Fine pals you turned out to be ! ” I ask you—what can you do with a fellow who sleeps like that ?