Travelling on a One Way Ticket

By Lynne Roberts

This is the actual day to day journal of a World War Two soldier. Walter describes his experiences in Italy and later in Japan. He also describes the incident for which he was awarded the Military Cross.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lynne Roberts
• Release date: Mar 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781927241257

Lynne Roberts

Lynne is a writer, musician, dance teacher and porcelain painter, among other things. She lives on an orchard in the Bay of Plenty, New Zealand where she breeds donkeys and collects grandchildren. Lynne has written copious numbers of educational teaching resources from pre-school through to tertiary level. She writes story books and fantasy fiction for children and poetry for children and adults, always with a strong vein of humour. Lynne also writes musicals for which she composes the original music.

Book preview

TRAVELLING ON A ONE-WAY TICKET

The Journal of a World War 2 Soldier [PRIVATE]

By Walter Sisam. MC.

Published by Liberty Publications at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Walter Sisam

ISBN 978-1-927241-25-7

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

Contents

Prologue

Introduction

Auckland East Coast Mounted Rifles

The Journey Begins - Wednesday 12 January 1944

In Harbour

Forty Days at Sea – 30 January to 21 February 1944

Leave in Cairo 26 February 1944

Maadi 10 March 1944

Egyptian Museum & El Azahr Mosque 11 March 1944

The Pyramids 15 March 1944

Amarich 20 – 22 March 1944

NZ Advanced Base Italy 28 March 1944

Mottola 30 March 1944

Bari 31 March 1944

Taranto 1 April 1944

Still at Advance Base 5 April 1944

Italy April 1944 to 8 May 1945

Holiday at Colle Pachinello - 30 October 1944

In Camp 26 November 1944 – 13 April 1945

An Incident During World War 2 in Italy

Peaceful Advance

Six Days in Rome - August 1945

20 September 1945

Italy January 1946

Capri 16 February 1946

Italy to Japan 24 Feb 1946

Visitors to the Strathmore

Japan 20 March 1946 – 26 May 1946

Postscript

Official Citation for Walter Sisam's Military Cross

Prologue

My father, Walter Sisam was a very talented, yet very humble man. He kept a meticulous record of his war experiences and in his latter years typed them up from the original copy of his journal, written painstakingly in green ink, which is still kept by his family. After his death, Walter’s children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren felt that his records deserved wider appreciation, being a true and accurate recording of life in the NZ Armed Forces during World War 2.

To allow his ‘voice’ to be heard, I have done little editing and left in all the colloquiums of the day, even though in modern times they may not always be regarded as politically correct.

It has to be remembered that due to censorship requirements, it was not possible for a soldier at that time to keep or transmit written records of military affairs that could be potentially useful to the enemy. Nevertheless, a very real flavour of military life comes through, along with a glimpse of the man whose skill with prose and description can still enthral us so many years later.

Introduction

The 11th Reinforcement left from Wellington on the Moultan, a passenger ship converted to a troopship, a vessel of some 22,000 tons. She was a very good ship in a heavy sea, as we were to discover, but didn't have a great turn of speed. Before I left home I was given by my Uncle Len and his family, a Trip Book, which was designed to record the activities of a passenger on a cruise or a visitor to other countries, with page headings of Itinerary, Hotels Visited, People Met, Places Visited and suchlike. I used it as a Journal to record day to day happenings and have typed from the Trip Book the following account of events leading up to my finally joining the 20th Armoured Regiment at Cassino in Italy.

I meant to start this book on 29 June 1943, being the date of my journey back to camp on the Taneatua Express, a trip that needs no description, as it is so well known to all interested in the details of this book. However, following my return to Whangarei, it took a back place on the shelf, as the prospect of any trip overseas was then very remote. Now I have resurrected it and hope to have the tenacity of purpose to record in it details of my future movements as once more (5 September 1943) I am told there is a job to be done over the other side now that there is none here for me.

I cannot see myself keeping to the well thought out setting of this book, as the nature of the journey I hope to undertake precludes the detailing of an itinerary, apart from short trips that leave may facilitate, so I shall try to make it a record of events from day to day as I travel from New Zealand and to wherever I am bound.

Walter Sisam

January 1944

Auckland East Coast Mounted Rifles (AECMR)

In the years before World War II New Zealand had a volunteer army, the Territorials. The local unit, formed of men from the Bay of Plenty/Rotorua/Coromandel area, was a Mounted Rifle Regiment of volunteers, the Auckland East Coast Mounted Rifles.

When the likelihood of war with Germany became more and more of a threat to peace, the Territorial Army started a recruiting campaign. My brother Allen and I joined the local squadron about the end of 1938 and became troopers in A Squadron, under the command of Buck Mulhern of Opotiki.

My mother, a widow, asked us not to join the Expeditionary Force until we were legally bound to do so at the age of 21, so we continued with our service in the Territorials after the war broke out.

Our first training camp was at Hopuhopu in May 1940, to which we travelled by train with our own horses for a week's camp. The squadrons and sections all consisted of men from specific geographical areas. A Squadron was from the Eastern Bay of Plenty, B Squadron from Rotorua and C Squadron was from Western Bay of Plenty and Coromandel.

The camp gave us newcomers an idea of how a Regiment was constructed of squadrons troops and sections, how to care for our horses that were tied to picket lines all day if they were not being ridden ridden, what it was like to eat, drink and sleep in the army (eight men to a bell tent, feet to the centre and no room to move), and how battles were fought in 1914/18.

The Regiment was expanding in 1940 and the need was for Troop Commanders and Non-commissioned officers to take charge of the increased number of recruits. An Officers Training Course was to be held at Narrow Neck and our Squadron Commander, Buck Mulhern, nominated me, with others, to attend. The nomination was queried by the Adjutant, whose comment was:

What! Him! The ugliest little bugger in the regiment!

However, in spite of this I was selected and spent several weeks learning to be an officer and duly passing the test. My pay book states 1/11/40 Promoted to Second Lieutenant.

In February 1941 the Mounted Rifles were in camp at Waiouru, where the space lent room for military exercises, but the climate was not suitable for horses from the Bay of Plenty. Many horses went down with strangles, a pulmonary disease which demobilised the horses that caught it and, in some cases, killed them. Whether or not the owners ever were recompensed I do not know. At the end of April we moved back to Hopuhopu (Ngaruawahia) and from there, in January 1942, we shifted to the racecourse at Pukekohe. This move was without horses, the Regiment having been mechanised and its name being changed to Third LAFV (Light Armoured Fighting Vehicles). The move north was the first of three changes of siting, probably dictated by the proximity of the Japanese in the Pacific, although we were never told that this was the reason for the steady movement of troops to North Auckland. In June we moved to Warkworth and in October to Whangarei .

However, it was the camp at Pukekohe that had the most profound effect upon my life. Staff of the Bank, when visiting another town or place, would call on the local branch just to say Hullo to the staff there and also on the off-chance that they might know someone working in that branch. One day I was in town and called at the Union Bank to see if there was anyone there I knew. As it happens there wasn't (not surprising considering my narrow field of banking operations) but I did meet the Accountant and saw two or three not bad looking sheilas in the office. A few days later I went to a local dance with a couple of friends and in the course of the dance called a Paul Jones where you change partners when the music pauses, the girl I was to dance with next said, Weren't you in the Union Bank the other day? That girl was one of the ones I had seen working in the Bank and was Noeline Ogden, later to become my wife. I have always insisted that she manoeuvred herself into a position in the dance queue so as to engineer a meeting with me, lured on by my uniform and shiny buttons.

From the time that the Territorial Army was fully mobilised, commissioned officers were not conscripted for overseas service and the Army kept them in New Zealand under active service conditions. Knowing what we now know about the war in the Pacific, it is not surprising, but at the time we felt that we were not really doing our best for the country. One of my fellow officers and best friend, Gilbert Murray, and I decided we would resign our commissions and join the 2NZEF. So we got hold of the necessary forms, filled them in and handed them to the Adjutant to process. We didn't get past square one! Our Commanding Officer wouldn't sign them and that was that. It was not, therefore, with any great regret that we eventually were reduced to troopers when we finally joined 2NZEF in Italy in 1943/44.

In January 1943, I was nominated by the CO to attend a staff training course, held at Massey College (as the present University was then).This course was in two parts, the first in January/February 1943 and the second part being later in the year.

In 1943 the Territorial force was reduced in numbers and those of us who were eligible for overseas service were sent to join the 10th Reinforcement at Papakura Camp I had the temporary rank of Sergeant. Before the time came to go overseas and after I had had final leave (October 16 to 26) the Army, in its wisdom, pulled me out and said I had to attend the second half of the Staff Course at Palmerston North. So I went back to Whangarei as a Lieutenant, to await the Staff Course. In the meantime, all my friends who were with me up to final leave including my brother Allen, left in the 10th Reinforcement. This was in October 1943. However, the second half of the Course never eventuated for me and I went back to Papakura to await going overseas in the 11th Reinforcement. One thing I remember from this time was that the Army reduced my pay to that of Sergeant when I went into the 10th Reinforcement, but didn't bother to restore it when I was pulled out. I wrote requesting restoration and was eventually paid for the two months concerned.

Wednesday 12 January 1944. The Journey Begins

At long last we are off. The past few days since our return from a fortnight off, including Christmas and New Year, have been a fever of expectation. Although the camp could hardly be called a hive of industry, everyone has been at a state practically amounting to stand to, ready for the detailing of instructions as they came to hand throughout the day. Then came the last three days, with parades for this and that, lists to be made, rolls to be typed, checked and counter-checked, bags to be packed, unpacked, gear rejected or compressed until kitbags would hold all that was to be taken, and all the sundry detail of preparing for a move. The last two days were overshadowed by the threat of more axings to follow those of the previous week, as, from all accounts, the ship was too small to take the complete draft. It was rather a relief from the suspense when the names were finally announced on the day we left. As all were very keen to be included in the draft, it was a blow to the unfortunates who drew the marble.

Pete Griffin took it very hard and I can sympathise with him, as I know what it is to be dragged out at the last minute. So that meant, with Jim Race already cut out, that two of our old sergeants had to be replaced. We now have all former A Squadron sergeants running D Squadron.

I must explain here that the officers in the Territorials who were now going overseas were demoted to the rank of Temporary Sergeant and each given command of a troop for the duration of the journey. At the end of the journey we reverted to troopers.

On the last day I was packed and ready by lunch time and so was free to attend to all the odd duties that fall to our lot at a time like this, with the added benefit of being quite free after dinner. Claude Philpott and I went to the pictures and I remarked there how unreal it seemed to be sitting in the picture theatre on the eve of embarkation and a journey to some place still unknown, just like any ordinary night in the week. The most outstanding feature of that last night might be well summed up by saying - the men went to the pictures.

Such was the nature of our departure from camp. No last minute rush, no looking for things overlooked (one advantage of living in a small space), no hurry or scramble, and even very little feeling (speaking for myself) of things being at all unusual - no emotion at all. I felt a bit disappointed after waiting for it for so long.

Now that the date and time of departure were known, the rumours dwindled in number and variety, being confined more or less to speculation as to the type, size and speed of our ship, most of which apparently had some foundation, as they seem now to have been based on the deductions reached from perusal of the various orders that came to hand from the Army. A feeling of exhilaration and a tenseness spread throughout the camp. All minds were on the one thought that at last we were about to have our chance of putting into practice the theory of war that so many of us had been studying for three and more years, while mingled with these were other memories of home and home life, thoughts of loved ones and the worry that would be theirs once they knew we were away, to be ever present in their minds until we returned safely. It is very true that it is harder to watch and wait than to serve - and nothing could be more expressive in times like these than the phrase They also serve who only stand and wait.

Such was the train of thought that a rather amusing incident occurred in the pictures the last night. The March of Time was a brief study of naval might of the USA, depicting various naval craft in action, with a brief shot of torpedoing a freighter. The sight of her falling apart and sinking quickly stem foremost brought a roar from the boys and many wisecracks about our immediate future. Hardly the sort of film appropriate for the occasion.

The whole of the entraining, detraining and embarkation was so typically military that it seemed to us, who had been in camp for three years or so, very much part of a day's work. As expected everything went smoothly and according to schedule we had no trouble of any sort on the way.

The train was scheduled to leave at 2315 hours, which gave us plenty of time after the pictures to say farewell to those who were staying behind, have our supper and collect our troops together. As kitbags had been stacked in the afternoon and taken over by the baggage party, we had only our sea kits to look after and were thus only lightly loaded. Some of the troops celebrated the occasion with bonfires and one became so large the fire brigade came and put it out and then spent half an hour putting out all the others and keeping an eye on the fire situation generally. The biggest danger was that one of the huts would catch fire and spread through the camp.

At 1030 the squadron paraded and were checked by troop through the orderly room, from where we marched to the train and, after some sorting and shuffling were all safely seated. The trip was quite uneventful, apart from some frantic girls wandering up and down the line at Taihape trying to find chaps they knew, with very little success from what we could see. Our only grouse was that the refreshment rooms weren't open anywhere. We finally pulled into the wharf at about 0720 and embarkation began about 0800. Here we were luckier than the infantry who carried both kit bags and sea kits aboard - ours were slung and hoisted aboard and stacked where we could get them, so that later in the day we discovered them and were authorised to collect them and stow them between decks.

After a wakeful night we were all very hungry and lost no time enquiring about the state of breakfast from the advance party of mess sergeants and orderlies, so once we found our mess tables and had unshipped our gear, we hoed into porridge and bacon and egg, which sounds a lot better than it seems, as without milk or sugar we found porridge a bit gooey and the bacon ran out early, while my egg had certainly seen better days. However, hunger was a good sauce and we ate it all in good part, washing it down with what we now call tea, a queer concoction of tea and condensed milk that we rather shied at to begin with but now swallow quite unconcernedly.

In Harbour

Our first impression of shipboard life was bewilderment at the mysterious way one was prevented from feeling that one's path lay straight ahead and the way in which the stairway that led to where we collected our hammocks, lifebelts etc never brought us back to where we started, but rather to another deck or another section of the ship altogether. As we marched aboard, there were guides to take us to the section where we were to live and, as we stepped on deck, I was separated from the troop and led to the sergeants' quarters where I found all the others of our group in a corner near the galley.

Our first task was to secure a hammock from below - how we got there I still don't know, but it was through the galley, which is now out of bounds to troops, so I can't retrace my steps. Coming back we took the wrong turning and found ourselves up on the boat (or weather) deck from where we trekked down the nearest companionway to our quarters. Coming aboard a troopship is far different from boarding a luxury liner and the whole of the troops quarters are as different from ordinary passenger accommodation as chalk is from cheese. Needless to say, the nobs get the good places first, so that officers take the first class cabins, while Warrant Officers and Staff Sergeants, plus some furlough sergeants, get second class cabins, where they wallow in luxury to the envy of the rest of the NCO's.

The whole of the first day in harbour was taken up in getting settled. The troops had to be moved around quite a bit in order to settle everyone in, with the consequent evil of being considered no better than a meddling fool by the individual trooper, although now that things have straightened out, I should imagine the voyage will be happier for everyone and there is quite a contrast between our quarters and most of the others now that order is established.

We sleep in hammocks slung between the shelves holding our gear and the tables where we eat. This means nobody can sleep between decks during the day as it would prevent any eating, but so far we have all spent two very comfortable nights and everyone has a place to lay his head. I had thought the sketch in the 10th's Queue Ship was a bit stretched, but find now that the resemblance of the troop decks to sardine tins is remarkable.

The biggest disappointment of the day was leaving harbour, as at the time we pulled out I was standing in a long queue with a teapot in one hand and a dixie (cooking pot) in the other, hopefully groping my way to the galley, while through the porthole I could see the wharf slowly slipping past until the hills of Wellington could be seen across the harbour. So, instead of experiencing the thrill of leaving