Life and death in the Cove

Part of the purpose of this blog was to journey through World War I reflecting on the experience of my grandfather, Sydney Alvyn Williams. He served as a driver in the New Zealand Field Artillery, giving up a job as Creamery Manager at Dunback, north of Dunedin. He was single at the time, aged 24. We don’t have personal reflections by him, so I have begun tracing something of his journey through the official record: New Zealand Artillery in the Field 1914-1918, by Lieutenant J. R. Byrne (1922). It’s enlightening, colourful, and insightful into the perspectives of the day - reflecting the ‘side’ it has been written from.

Brigadier-General G N Johnston, Commander of the New Zealand Field Artillery (NZFA) during the War, writes in an Introduction to the book:

Those who came safely through have settled down again to their normal occupations; the survivors will, I feel sure, look back with a feeling of growing satisfaction when they think of the Great War, and what they did to help it along.

I don’t know how my grandfather actually felt about the War. He, like many, didn’t talk about it much. All I know is that, during a nightmare, he tried to strangle his wife – my grandmother – in her sleep; and when WWII broke out he was keen to join up again – but his wife wouldn’t let him.

Brigadier-General G N Johnston goes on:

All who had the honour of belonging to the New Zealand Field Artillery will, I feel sure, cherish the memory of their association with that Force as time goes by; forgetting the hardships of the war, they will remember only the spirit of good feeling and friendliness that animated all ranks in every phase of the conflict. Their varied experiences and journeyings in foreign lands will be pleasant to look back upon as the years roll by; ...

Catching up with the NZFA in the field at this moment 100 years ago (June 1914), Lieutenant Byrne in the body of the history writes:

... by June the heat had become oppressive, and combined with the ills and afflictions that it brought in its train, was a grievous burden to men who had already been sorely tried in body and spirit. As the heat increased, the amount of clothing worn by the average individual became less and less, until the absolute minimum was reached by the many, who contented themselves with a very short pair of "shorts," boots, and headgear of thevariety that most appealed to their own particular tastes. Clad thus in abbreviated uniforms that were anything but uniform, the rank and file of the army grew bronzed, and some even heightened the suggestion of the primitive by becoming bearded, for the morning shave had become but a memory of another existence. Thoroughly verminous as they were, and often lacking sufficient fresh water even for drinking purposes, the soldiers might almost have been pardoned for ceasing to worry about personal cleanliness; but good habits persist as well as bad, and the desire to wash and be clean never waned. The gunner provided himself with a small pannikin-full of water, when it was to be had, and went about his toilet with the gravity of a man engaged in an absorbing morning ritual. Under such conditions it can be easily conceived what a joy to the soldier were those invigorating swims in the clear, cool, sparkling waters of the Cove.
Every day the guns from the Olive Groves swept the beach with their deadly enfilade, and hardly a day passed when they did not exact a toll in killed and wounded, but none ever thought of foregoing his swim in consequence of these risks. ... The guns usually fired in short bursts at uncertain intervals; and as they were firing at a considerable range the shells gave some warning of their approach and enabled the most active to dive for the shelter of the big stacks of boxed provisions .... In a few moments the shelling would cease, men would straighten themselves up with an air of mingled relief and caution; then one, more intrepid than the rest, would lead the way again into the tempting waters, and in a few minutes it would seem as if there had never been anything to disturb their splashing and frolicking.

“Splashing and frolicking” – yes, life could be fun in the Cove.