V
Nissan

Here we were, on the threshold of our D-day. The story of 15 February, 1944, might tell a Third Division cavalcade of fighting and heroism that would rank beside the grim stories of Guadalcanal and Tarawa. The 14th NZ Brigade might be matched with the AIF's veteran 17th Brigade which struggled through to Salamaua. Its story might provide grist for the mills of future Anzac bar-room arguments. But 15 February, 1944, was destined to have little place in the Kiwi chronicles of World War II. A wellnigh unopposed landing was followed by a day's consolidation against an almost Japless jungle. Our long-awaited D-day produced feelings of bathos and anti-climax, a little disappointment, but at the same time a feeling of relief and thankfulness that there were no casualties after the first day of occupation. Firmly entrenched after an easy invasion, our fear of air attacks rapidly faded.

At Blue Beach, on the Pokonian Plantation, the landing of the second wave was not without event. Lieutenant N. D. M. Harvey and his section had unloaded the last of the equipment and were filing ashore with their own gear when a Japanese barge was reported to be firing on the landing craft. The resulting din was terrific as Bofors, machineguns and the full fire power of the LCIs and LSTs standing off shore was directed at the barge. Then the excitement subsided and the first incident of the day ended. All that was left were the graphic descriptions to be related, and, we suspect, exaggerated by the participants. Arthur King, A company's rascally cook, maintained that he felt the flapping of wings as his guardian angel picked him up and flew him across the water to the shore; while George Rix told such an exciting tale of the flurry that we began to understand his success in the field of advertising.

With the equipment ashore, headquarters and the attached personnel from the companies had a heavy day shifting it along the narrow crowded trail to the hospital site. The only truck allowed to the hospital itself became bogged in the mud soon after it left the LCT and was useless for the rest of the day. Despite much arguing and many ruffled tempers our MDS was page 146

Nissan Island was the end of the journey. A convalescent depot was established near South Point; one field hospital on the coast near Tanaheran and the other near Pokonian

page 147functioning in two and three-quarter hours. Though handicapped by having a quantity of our equipment dumped at the wrong beach, we were able to care for patients who soon began to arrive. Highlight of the day had been Padre T. H. Carr's cups of tea, which seemed inexhaustible. The work was hard, the heat savage, and the relieved nervous tension made us tired, hungry and thirsty.

The three sections with the combat teams had had an uneventful day, and, once their fox-holes were dug, a fairly easy time. For them the night also was quiet. Again the MDS struck what action was going when an air attack came too close to be merely entertaining. All over the island that night nerves were jumping. No contact had been made with the enemy, but, mindful of Guadalcanal, Bairoko and Mono, the perimeters were on the alert, and some of the guards became slightly trigger-happy; which added to our uneasiness.

Our first battle casualties arrived on 17 February as the little islands of Barahun, Sirot and Pinipel were cleaned out. Both the field surgical unit, which had been attached to us, and our own operating theatres were busy until well after dark. By the 18th we had 59 patients, mostly sick. On the 19th more battle casualties drifted in, some to be evacuated next day by returning ships of the second echelon, which had brought the remainder of our unit. On 20 February we established a few tents and No. 1 Field Surgical Unit on a new site between the road and the lagoon about a mile nearer to the mission. Towards the late afternoon this same day fresh battle casualties began to come in, and an appeal for stretchers, blankets and jeep ambulances was received from the 30th Battalion. Apparently the Japs had at last come to light, and things were happening at Tanaheran, a few miles away. Later, casualties were intercepted by the field surgical unit at our new site, where work continued until five o'clock next morning.

On 22 February, 1944, the MDS personnel, complete with harried tempers, sweaty bodies, blistered hands and unpleasant dispositions, shifted both hospital and patients from the location at Pokonian to the new site. A gang, under the architectural direction of Lieutenant J. L. Meanie, and stimulated by the verbosity of Dennis Chambers, had been working on the site for a few days and had all the necessary holes dug and rails ready for the speedy re-erection of the MDS. Within 15 days of the page 148occupation of the island General Barrowclough's 'Forty Thousand Thieves' were following a normal routine. They were making themselves comfortable, had found something for nothing and only needed a ration dump to be situated nearby to be quite happy. Then followed four and a-half months of occupation, with our hospital well established on a good site, with its own pier for evacuation of patients by barge. In this evacuation service, and in all respects, the American naval authorities were most cooperative. To facilitate evacuation by air we established a holding hospital on the air strip.

What did we do during these four and a-half months? The time passed, albeit with dragging feet, in work and play. One testimony to the former was the complete treatment of the native population for yaws. Captain Adams gave weekly injections at the native village at Salipal, and, with Major W. W. Hallwright, from divisional headquarters, at the villages on Pinipel Island. Results were splendid, and our efforts were obviously appreciated. Our hospital was soon filled with a constant flow of skin diseases, accident cases, and odd minor epidemics. The laboratory, manned by Ted Mead and Alan Low, was always busy, for the eosinophil survey during a hookworm scare was a complete one and revealed some interesting figures.

For play there were a few canoes, swimming, and the exciting hunt for giant rays. On one occasion 17 of these fish cruised past the camp, and, with the assistance of rifle, grenade and harpoon, we managed to bring two ashore. One measured 10 feet six inches by nine feet six inches—a goodly fish. Commercial instincts, dormant since our departure from Guadalcanal, reappeared, and shells began to find themselves rapidly transformed into necklaces—a modest venture this, with full economic setup which paid many dollars into New Zealand pockets. Then there was rain on Green-—-it rained some days, most clays, always.

The first draft of manpower releases left, the second followed, and, on 6 July, 1944, the remainder of the unit said a not regretful farewell to Nissan and headed, in the USS Celeno, for New Caledonia.