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Bush Bashing & Finding the Canterbury Lads: Galipolli 2000

I have been to Galipolli twice. The first time I did not land but rather cruised up the Dardanelles on a ship. The next time I joined the small group of NZ soldiers serving in Bosnia with NATO. It was the 85th anniversary of the landings so there was a huge crowd expected. We visited the museum the day before ANZAC day and got our heads around the sheer presence of the place. The museum is packed full of shocking photos, artifacts, human bones and interesting things like bullets that had hit each other in mid air and melded together! It was a day of taking it all in. I visited ANZAC cove where the Kiwis came ashore and saw the first cemetery that had New Zealand men. Many so young, most under 20.

ANZAC cove was quite an emotional sort of a place. As a soldier it was a campaign I had studied and heard so much about. It was a defining moment in the history of our country, certainly of the NZ Army. I think the thing that affected me the most was understanding just how far away from home these men were and just how big the task was they were expected to do first up in a long war!

ANZAC day itself was heaving. The Australian and New Zealand Prime Ministers were present and so were a large NZ Army contingent do the formal ceremonial parades and memorial guards. The Bosnia Contingent left two vans in the huge line of traffic and we walked the last few km to the Dawn Service. The road was littered with bumper to bumper traffic and there were many thousands of Aussie and Kiwi backpackers. The sunrise over ANZAC cove and the service gave the place a mystical feel and the crowd was very silent. The bugler doing the Last Post chilled us all.

The rest of the day was spent walking up the cliffs and visiting the ceremonys and many different battle memorials. I enjoyed the main Australian service at “Lone Pine” and then the New Zealand ceremony at the “Chunk Bair” memorial. The New Zealand Defence Force Cultural Group performed the Haka and the Prime Minister spoke. Turkish soldiers had a very high profile presence as part of the security. This first photo was taken at the Chunuk Bair Memorial.

After the service and reading the role of those killed from many New Zealand Regiments, we decided that rather than take the long track back down the cliffs, the direct “bush bashing route down a large ridge line would be a better way to get to the vehicles. The Infantry Section that was with us led the push with the scouts up front finding the way through heavy scrub, blackberry type bush, rusted equipment and trenches. After  a long walk through a river bed finding small plots full of Indian and Canadian soldiers, we came across a small cemetery of 25-30 plots. Closer inspection found it was in the main full of men from the Canterbury Regiment at “Outpost 1”.  This second picture is taken in this quiet spot.

Researching it after I returned to NZ it seems these men were killed trying to outflank the enemy. Caught in the open by raking machine guns. Our drivers walked back for the vehicles while the remainder of us waited in the sun in that quiet spot for several hours. I spent the time reading each headstone and leaving poppies.  It felt good to be with these guys for a while because given their location so far from the main walkways it was obvious not many visited them.

Gallipoli for me was just somewhere I had to go in my life. It was a “bucket list thing” I now realise and the experience was amazing. Turkey is such a full on diverse place but the people are warm and friendly and whilst they without doubt enjoy the tourists dollars that the area brings, they genuinely seem to care. The plots and sites are well tended and looked after and their attitude is quite refreshing. Then there is the carpet trade they rob you blind on, but that is another story!

As ANZAC day rolls around I always reflect on those guys who stepped up, got stuck in and now lie so far from home. That is why we remember them.

Like this article? Other ANZAC Tributes and Topics

ANZAC: Johnny McNutt- A Good Southern Man: RIP Published 21 Apr 10

The “Ted d’Augvergne Bottle in the Hotel” story. A tale of intrigue from Waimate, NZ. Published 19 Apr 10

Who the Hell is Private David Nelson Wright? A local man killed in Vietnam. Published 5 Feb 10


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ANZAC: Johnny McNutt- A good Southern Bloke: RIP

(Acting) Major John McNutt (Link to initial article) was killed in Kuwait on the 12th of March 2001. It doesn’t seem like nine years ago to me, but no doubt his family will attest to the passing of time.

John was  a friend of mine. It shocked us all that he was killed on a training exercise by an American bomb. Could have happened to anyone in a simialr training activity! Whilst it was pretty random, I guess you have to remember that calling in close air support from a fast jet is tricky and risky. Yet this was an essential skill for someone in Johns role to know.

John was a good southern man. He had West Coast blood in his veins and was academically gifted. He had attended St Andrews College and was a graduate of the Australian Defence Force Academy and the Royal Military College (Duntroon)  where New Zealand sends a handful of trainees each year. He was very fit, a mad man on the rugby paddock and well liked. He had been with the New Zealand Special Air Service (NZSAS) for a short period of time only before his posting to Kuwait. This picture shows him sitting in the cockpit of an American Apache helicopter shortly before his death, a man always eager to learn and explore!.

I got to know his family well in the days after his death as I worked to help manage the media interest in the story as the NZ Army got him home to his family. His funeral was huge and it reflected his life. Packed with family, fitness, lots of sport, friends, hunting, the outdoors and a pursuit of adventure. His father Goodwin was a pioneer of the early helicopter deer catching days in Westland (a daredevil in his time) and his mother Mary was lovely, so strong and full of love for her son. Both were amazing in their ability to accept and forgive the cause of the accident.

As ANZAC day looms, I always remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice in service of their country. In Johnny’s case it was a friendly bomb and a bad mistake, but he died on active duty and training so as to excel in his chosen profession of arms.

John McNutt is and will remain well remembered.

Other ANZAC Tributes and Yarns;

The Ted d’Augvergne “Bottle in the Hotel” story.

Who the Hell is Private David Nelson Wright?

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ANZAC: The Ted d’Auvergne (Bottle of Beer) Story

Private Ted d’Auvergne was a farm lad from my home town of Waimate. Well to be exact he came from a little settlement just through the Waimate Gorge called Waihao Forks. I have known of his story since I was a very young and I was lucky enough to find myself in Crete, Greece for the 60th anniversary of the German airborne invasion.

During this time the New Zealand Division fought hard to repel the attack from a huge airborne German force which dropped from the sky but along with other allied troops were forced to withdraw from the Island.

You can read the finer details of Ted’s story here (link). In summary;

  • Before catching the train to war Ted stopped in for a beer at the Waihao Forks Hotel (as you do!).
  • He left one bottle behind the bar with the publican with the intention of drinking it on his way home (from the war).
  • He was killed in action during the fighting on Crete and was buried there.
  • The bottle has been handed on as the pub has changed hands and is now in a small protected case which sits in the corner of the bar.
  • Each ANZAC day a small local service takes place and a poppie is put into the case.
Having attended one of these services at the Hotel and given the local connection I was determined to find his resting place in the huge Suda Bay cemetary. It took a while to find and to be honest it was quite a moving moment to stand there with him and read his headstone. He lies amongst other young New Zealanders, a very long way from home  and I had someone snap this picture of his headstone.
Thanks for doing your bit Ted. Sorry you didn’t make it home to drink that bottle of beer.
Lest we forget.
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Who is Private David Nelson Wright (Part 3 in the series "Down Home")

Not far from where my grandparents lie in the lovely setting of St Mary’s at Esk Valley, South Canterbury is the resting place of a young Infantryman who died of wounds in Vietnam. His name is Private David Nelson Wright.  I guess what is interesting about this is that unlike the many names listed just down the road on the Esk Valley War Memorial (he is not on it), David is actually buried among the community from which he came as opposed to overseas where he died as was the norm many years ago. I have always looked in on his headstone and given it a brush down if needed and wonder what his story was. As an ex Infantryman there is always the  realisation now that being killed could have happened to any of us who served. I thought it was time to have a few questions about him answered. Who he was and how did he come to be buried at Esk Valley.


He died of wounds sustained in South Vietnam in 1970 (the year after I was born) at the age of 23, he was part of the 1st Battalion, Royal New Zealand Infantry Regiment and his father (who lies next to him) was the Minister of the Parish of which St Mary’s is part. That I knew from his headstone. When I have asked locals about him there was no further information known other than these details. So here is a summary of what I discovered about David Wright;

  • A photo.
  • He attended Christs College, Christchurch and was an accomplished sportsman.
  • He was very fit and healthy.
  • Like all who New Zealand soldiers who served in South Vietnam, he was a professional soldier and a volunteer.
  • He was one of 37 New Zealanders to lose their life during or as a result of direct combat action in the conflict. ( A further 187 were wounded in action)
  • As part of Whiskey 3 Company he arrived in South Vietnam in November 1969 for a 12 month tour of duty.
  • The company was commanded by then Major Evan Torrance (who selected me for Officer Training).
  • His Platoon Commander was then Lieutenant Bob Upton (Who was my first Commander upon graduation).
  • He was well thought of amongst his peers and the company. I made contact with his Company Sergeant Major by e-mail and he spoke highly of David. He had never stood out for his sheer brilliance or for poor performance and had not featured in any major disciplinary breaches which from the point of view of a CSM meant he was a hard grafter who did his job and got on with it.
  • He had a wicked sense of humour and innocent look about him.
  • He was a “cover scout” in a rifle section which meant he was always at point and covering the lead man or ” lead scout”. This was a dangerous role that was effectively the eyes and ears of the section silently moving through the jungle. It is a role generally held by the most alert and talented soldiers who keep an eye out for mines, booby traps, hidden enemy and potential risks. Given that jungle combat is so fast and at close quarters it is not for the feint hearted.
  • He never once failed his lead scout.
  • He was badly wounded in a contact/gun battle with north vietnamese insurgents (Viet Cong or VC) on 30 January 1970. He was the most severely wounded (entry and exit wounds to his pelvis and upper torso) although others in his team sustained serious wounds also. You can read the full story written by those involved in this battle at this link.
  • He was attended to by his mates and stabilised before being flown out of the jungle by a CASEVAC helicopter. He was more concerned about his mate George McLeod’s wounds than his own.
  • Initially treated by a military hospital in Vietnam (Vung Tau Military Hospital), the nature of his wounds meant that he was transfered to an Australian hospital for further treatment.
  • He initially recovered well and wrote to his mates in Vietnam this effect.
  • He died of complications including a kidney infection and failure in a Sydney hospital in Australia on 19 March 1970.
  • His funeral was a family affair with some military representation at Esk Valley as recalled by then Captain Ross Miller whole recalls;

“I remember going to Dave Wright’s funeral.  I was, at the time, a staff officer at HQ SMD in Christchurch and although I didn’t know David, I felt that, as a Vietnam veteran, I should be there and that’s why I went.  I don’t think there was large military contingent present and as I didn’t want to intrude on what was very much a family gathering I left shortly after the service.”

  • His service flag was given to his mother and it hangs inside St Mary’s church at Esk Valley.
  • His mother received his service medals.
  • You can read a speech written and delivered by Bob Upton at the unveiling of Davids memorial at Christs College (pictured) at the link here.
So there you have it. This research for me answered all those questions I have had about David since before even beginning my Army service. I’m glad I put a face to his name, found out a bit about him and how he died and in corresponding with those who served with him I found out so many more things about Vietnam and the controversy that surrounded New Zealand being involved. One thing is for sure though, our servicemen and women who went to South Vietnam did so as volunteers and did their job very well. They should never have been blamed for the politics surrounding the conflict, nor should they have borne the brunt of ill feeling when they came home.

Thanks David for doing your bit! Thanks for being prepared to serve wherever New Zealand sent you. Thanks for looking after your mates. Sorry you didn’t grow old with them and tell your story in person. At age 23 you did more in that short life than many do in 50 years. A local Legend.

Thanks too to those who gave me information.

“Onward”

Kendall

A quote from the speech given by Bob Upton at the Christs College memorial service for David.



“Finally I leave you with this to contemplate and reflect on:
It is the soldier not the reporter, Who has given us freedom of the press. It is the soldier not the poet, Who has given us freedom of speech. It is the soldier not the union organiser, Who has given us freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier who salutes the flag, Who serves beneath the flag and, Whose coffin is draped by the flag, Who allows the protester to burn the flag.”



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Where the Hell is Esk Valley? (Part 2 in the Series "Down Home")

Some 10km from our farm gate is a small settlement called Esk Valley. Esk Valley is really just an intersection and has an old primary school (now closed and used as a day care centre). On the corner is a war memorial which like most farming settlements lists the names (on each side) of those in the district who served in the Boer, First and Second World Wars. Some were killed in action and some made it home to what must have seemed a quiet old piece of paradise compared with the action and adventure they had witnessed. Farmers, young men, stockmen, shepherds and horsemen all volunteered to see the world and came home a bit older than their years for the experience.




Above right: Prominent memorial.


Left: Esk Valley school corner. Looking North up the road towards home.


Right: The old Esk valley School. Now a daycare centre.




Just up the road on a very prominent ridge sits a historic (and still used) Presbyterian Church called St Mary’s. This is where my grandparents are buried and is I suppose our family plot. I intend to be buried here. With a brilliant view of South Canterbury and surrounded by pastures this church and cemetery is nestled amongst a line of Oaks trees. It could almost be a snapshot of rural England. This is quite a peaceful place and whenever I am home for more than just a few days I often visit here. Over summer when we were swimming at the Otaio Gorge we stopped in twice and I took a few snapshots.


Left: Entrance to St Mary’s lined with oaks.


Right: St Mary’s.


Below: My Grandparents resting place.

On my mothers side of the family I am the eldest of the grandchildren and she is second eldest of five daughters. Her father Eric Robert McConnell was born on our farm and farmed it his entire life. His family originated in County Down, Northern Island and his parents were the original farmers on the property. It was his mother who took the title of the farm due to her husbands illness and this in those days was very unusual. In fact I bear his first two names as my two middle names and I was close to him until his death in 1981. He taught me a lot. 


Eric had a passion for stock and 8mm home movies. He worked hard and the farm still bears the blacksmith and the stables in an age before tractors in which he was born. Too young to fight in the First Word War, farming through the depression, he was given the responsibility of running numerous farms during the next big war as part of the “War Effort”. He was a member of the Home Guard and had an elder brother and a younger brother (Alan served as an Infantry Officer in the Pacific as part of the 3rd New Zealand Expeditionary Force).


My grandmother arrived in New Zealand around the age of 8 years old. The eldest in a large family that came out from the harsh Shetland Islands off the coast of Scotland. Nicknamed “Lella” by family she was small in stature and huge in heart and had a certain hardiness or toughness about her. No doubt a good mix of Scottish and Viking bloodlines. As a school teacher I remember her drumming the times tables and spelling into me and she was reasonably proficient and dishing out the discipline. Prayers before bed was compulsory. She met my Grandfather whilst teaching at the Teschmakers Valley School and living as a boarder with the family. They took years to court and marry and there is a trail of letters they sent to each other as they got to know each other. No broadband internet, cell phones or local bars in those days. It was all very proper!


Resting close to my grandparents is a young soldier who died of wounds in Vietnam in March 1970 aged 23. I have often looked at the headstone of Private David Nelson Wright a fellow Infantryman and wondered what his story was. I did some initial inquiries a number of years ago but recently I queried a number of Vietnam Veterans to find out some more details.


I’ll share these next time.


Other articles about my home you’ll like;


Knowing your own Backyard (Part 1 in the series “Down Home”
The Great South….Camping in Gods Own!

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Knowing Your Own backyard: Part one in the "Down Home Series"

We all have a place we call home, be it a house we grew up in, a family property, a business that has been in the family for generations and then there are those who feel home is where their stuff is, or where they carry it (I used to when I was in the Infantry). To many home is where  a number of close family reside, perhaps it is a bach/crib or caravan/tent spot that is an annual pilgrimage.

To me home is our family farm in the Hunter Hills (inland 9km from the sea situated 40 km from Timaru and 27km from Waimate). The 1100 acre property has been in the family since my Great Grand parents started farming it in the early 1900’s. It is green rolling South Canterbury farmland with considerable stands of native bush and an 400 acre hill block called Mt Diamond. I know I am home when I hit this sign post and roar up the drive to my mothers house (seen to the left in amongst the trees in this pic).

As I get a bit older I find myself more interested in the history of the place and like most small New Zealand settlements there is no shortage of it. Over the coming months I intend to write a few blogs with some of the interesting stuff I have stumbled across in my own backyard and the surrounding areas.

Like most farming communitys there have been many changes over the last 10-15 years. There are still the shingle roads and an absence of Police, however gone too are party telephone lines, the local school that both my generation and my mothers attended, churches stand empty, community halls are rarely used and so the list goes on as the tendency for bigger farms alters the landscape. Add in the large number of dairy cows that now occupy an area once firmly sheep and beef country and you have a very different rural landscape.

There are still the local swimming holes (see my recent blog about Otaio Gorge), the local war memorials and farmers who enjoy the land and stock and all that the farming lifestyle brings with it so whilst not all changes have been positive on the local community, there is still a lot going on and it is a great place to call home.

I look forward to sharing a bit of local history.

Other blogs I’ve already written about my home that you’ll  love;

The Great South…..Camping in Gods Own!

Burning Down The House…..New Year 2010

South Island You Rock!…Mt Cook, The Lakes, Central, Tekapo