A small exhibition triggers memories of great and enduring friendships
The
exhibition opening. Photo: NZHPT
Many of the tourists who tramp through Wellington’s magnificent
Old St Paul’s are no doubt puzzled to see the 48-star United States
flag prominently displayed in the nave. Even more intriguing is its companion,
the flag of the 2nd Marine Division, United States Marine Corps.
Thereby hangs a tale, and it’s told now in a small exhibition, “A
Friend in Need – Old St Paul’s and the US Marines in New Zealand
WWII”, tucked away beside the altar.
The
exhibition.
Photo: NZHPT
The exhibition commemorates an extraordinary period in New Zealand history,
when there was a real threat of invasion by
the Japanese, and the country was virtually defenceless. Then, on a grey
winter’s day, 12 June 1942, thousands of American soldiers came to
the rescue. They sailed into Auckland and Wellington harbours to be met
with the sort of rapturous reception that might have greeted All Blacks
returning with a World Cup. If such a thing can be imagined. Many of those
Marines worshipped at Old St Paul’s during their time in New Zealand.
In a small country of only 1.6 million inhabitants, the friendly invaders
made quite an impact. At any one time between
June 1942 and mid-1944, there were between 15,000 and 45,000 Americans
stationed in camps around New Zealand.
Crowd
at Liberty Corner (corner of featherston Street), Wellington, listening
to the US Marine Corps band, 10 September 1943.
Photo: Alexander Turnball Library*
They were mostly young men, 17- and 18-year-olds, in military
uniforms. “When the Americans arrived, it was just like heaven. All
of a sudden, the place was full of young men who sounded and looked like
film stars,” recalls Joan Ellis, who was 18 at the time, one of four
sisters living in Petone, near Wellington.
The 21,000 Americans who sailed into Wellington were mostly camped in
two large settlements near Paekakariki. The Auckland contingent, a further
29,500, was scattered in camps from Pukekohe to Western Springs.
American
Marines and unidentified New Zealand women on the beach at Oriental
Parade. c 1942. Photo: Alexander Turnball
Library*
They were everywhere, on the trains, in the streets, the pubs, the milk
bars, the cafes, the cinemas, the dance halls. “It was not possible
to attend mass in our church without seeing young, handsome, friendly
Marines. They were responsible for us taking a renewed interest in regular
Sunday church
attendance,” recalls Ellis in her recent book, A String of Pearls:
Stories from US Marines & New Zealand Women Remembering WWII.
Drab, sleepy New Zealand, where the pubs closed at 6pm, was brought to
life by nervous teenage energy. Dance halls were packed three and four
nights a week, and musicians had to up the tempo as stately waltzes gave
way to “jitterbugging”.
Ellis recalls: “Our dresses were fullskirted so as not to restrict
movement, and at times we were tossed about like rag dolls
by our partners, who had introduced us to this style of dancing.”
The Marines arrived in Wellington in November 1942, but a month later
the partying was over, and they were sent to
Guadalcanal in the Solomons, the first Allied offensive against the Japanese.
After months of combat on restricted rations, and with many suffering
from dysentery and malaria, they were shipped back to New Zealand to recuperate.
Although New Zealanders found the US military presence reassuring in
the face of an invasion threat, the reality was different, as Marine Lloyd
Gladson explains in Ellis’s book: “Little did they realise that
we were so worn out and ill in the first few weeks of our arrival from
Guadalcanal that we could
never have found the strength to assist them to resist the onslaught of
the enemy.”
Another Marine, Hank Henderson, recalled an unfortunate side-effect for
the young men. “As the men began to get
leave to go to town, we learned that trips to town triggered malaria episodes
... The combination of a few social drinks and close physical contact
with a pretty girl almost invariably generated severe chills that could
frustrate even the most ardent romance.”
Although many Americans found mutton hard to stomach, they came to appreciate
the food on offer, especially after their semistarvation on Guadalcanal.
As serviceman
Norman Moise observed: “What a treat it was to sit in a restaurant
with a plate of steak, eggs and chips, consume it and then ask for seconds.
And the milk! Oh my! It was nectar
to our half-starved bodies. Then there was the beer! ... we soon adjusted
to the warmth, and it didn’t detract from the flavour. We managed
to drink gallons of beer without complaining. We had found our Valhalla!”
Home visits helped the young soldiers to get well. “They were practically
killing us with kindness and hospitality,” recalled
Henderson. “We were wined and dined at every turn. You could hardly
walk down the street without receiving multiple invitations to dinner,
to stay the night, or to stay as long as you wanted in their homes. The
only introduction necessary was
the Marines uniform.” The soldiers returned their hosts’ generosity
with a seemingly endless supply of small gifts: Salter’s peanuts,
cigarettes, chewing gum, Hershey bars, nylon stockings. Hospitality extended
beyond the cities. Marines were invited to stay on sheep stations, or
“ranches” as they called them.
“It was a wonderful basis for forming friendships,” says Joan
Ellis. “People are still travelling backwards and forwards to visit
each other, grandchildren of the Marines who were
here are coming to visit the grandchildren of people they met here.”
Inevitably, many wartime relationships went beyond friendship. Americans
found most New Zealand women unusually pretty. New Zealand women found
American men
charming, attentive and good mannered, especially when compared to the
gauche, shy home-grown variety.
About 1500 New Zealand women married American servicemen stationed here.
American authorities frowned on such unions, and did their best to discourage
them because of the likelihood that such relationships would not survive
the War. They also knew that romantic liaisons could breed
resentment among New Zealand servicemen who came home on leave to find
their wives had been unfaithful or their girlfriends going out with a
Yank or pregnant.
Resentment about the “bedroom commandos” did boil over on occasion
when the pubs closed. Racism was also sometimes
part of the mix: Marines who came from states where racial segregation
in public places was still the norm were uncomfortable sharing a bar or
café with Maori. The most famous incident, dubbed the Battle of
Manners Street,
took place on 3 April 1943. According to the Encyclopaedia of New Zealand
in 1966, “It has been estimated that over 1000 American and New Zealand
troops were involved, as well
as several hundreds of civilians. The battle lasted for about four hours
before order was restored by the civil police. Many American soldiers
were injured during this affray and at least two were killed. The ‘Battle
of Manners Street’ was the ugliest riot in New Zealand’s history.”
However, the incident was never accurately reported because of wartime
press censorship, and some believe it has
been wildly exaggerated. “I was there that particular night,”
says Joan Ellis. “My sister and I were volunteering in the Allied
Services Club. I think we were told not to go outside. They talk about
it being a Maori soldier-Marine thing. To be honest, I think it was just
a few drunken servicemen who got out of control, lost their tempers and
had a big punch-up ... I think it was magnified out of all proportion.
I’ve met guys who were there and said it was nothing. It was wartime,
people had been drinking and had things to get out of their systems, I
suppose.”
Many of the soldiers who survived the war in the Pacific, though, had
fond memories of New Zealand and of the friendships they made. Some former
Marines returned here
for a reunion in 1993, to mark the 50th anniversary of their arrival in
New Zealand. Many attended special commemoration services at Old St Paul’s,
where they had
worshipped as young soldiers and were taken into the homes of the congregation.
At dawn on 1 November 1943, the Americans left Wellington in an armada.
“Suddenly, the whole place went dull and
boring,” says Ellis. She and her sister made plans to go to the States,
but, in the end, “just got married like everybody else was doing”.
She did end up marrying a Marine she met at the 1993 reunion. “It
was the most wonderful, magical thing that ever happened to me, and to
him as well. But it didn’t work. I’m a New Zealander, he’s
American. There was no way I could adapt to his culture, just as he couldn’t
adapt to mine. We were both too long in the tooth by that time. We were
in
our 70s.” Now 83, she treasures the memories of the year the Yanks
came to town. “It was the most exciting time of my life.”
“A Friend in Need – Old St Paul’s and the US Marines
in New Zealand WWII” runs until May 2009.
*
Photo: Permission of the Alexander Turnbull Library, National Library
of New Zealand / Te Puna Matauranga o Aotearoa, must be obtained before
any re-use of this image
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Making
it fit
Interpretation
designer Steve La Hood explains how the exhibition was put
together.
The
exhibition is designed to fit into the busy life of Old St
Paul’s. It could not occupy the church interior in a
way that would distract people from weddings, funerals or
other uses of the venue. At the same time, it had to be attractive
and lively, so that viewers would be entertained first and
then learn about the subject. So, from the start, we looked
at a simple way of telling the stories in a small space and
in a way that gave visitors an engaging 20-minute experience.
There’s
a wealth of photographs and moving images of the time the
Marines spent in Wellington, but photos and moving pictures
work best when they’re supporting stories, so we interviewed
people about their experiences with the Marines, or their
historical knowledge of World War II, and used the photos
and
moving pictures to illustrate and counterpoint
their stories. This is a much more effective way of displaying
the pictures. The exhibition is completely freestanding. Its
only connection to the building is a standard three-pin plug.
Knowing
that we could not drill or screw anything into the historic
building, we had to design an exhibition that could be built
off site and installed quickly and without stress. That constraint
allowed us
to think laterally about the display and in the end proved
to be an inspiration rather than an obstacle.
The
six stories told in the exhibitionare simple and brief, but
they are expressed with such emotion that they bring us right
into the world of 1942. As Professor Glyn Harper noted, this
is a subject that has not been fully told in New Zealand,
and is a very important milestone in our relationship with
the United States. The US Marines still hold New Zealand in
high regard for the simple hospitality and
care we showed them in those troubled times.
Also,
there were 1500 New Zealand women who left our shores to become
Americans
after the War, and many had children to men who didn’t
survive the nightmare that was the Pacific War. There are
not many Marines or their New Zealand hosts left now –
it all happened such a long time ago – but it’s
amazing how strongly those times are remembered.
This is not an historical treatise about the US Marines in
New Zealand, it’s a glimpse into a time when young men
and women were growing up in a world at war. We tried to capture
the feelings of those who remembered. We hope that visitors
will be moved by the stories, as we were, and want to know
more about this precious moment in our nation’s history.
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