Ōropi Soldiers On by Helen Towgood

Tauranga City Libraries Photo 00-036

I stare at them and they stare back but our eyes do not meet. As Tauranga’s 4th Reinforcements, their formal attire is appropriate and a photographic record warranted. But somehow their bemused expressions belie the gravity of the occasion. After all, it is 1940 and they are on their way to war.  Two in particular catch my eye. One stands confidently astride, youth abundant, newly-married: so much to prove. The other, older, less assured but resolute; farmer and family man: so much to lose.

As fate would have it they were both to be sorely tested before war’s end. One’s acts of bravery would elevate him to legendary status but the other would be denied the opportunity; rendered a P.O.W. in the botched evacuation of Greece. As sons of Ōropi they would leave with the blessings of their community and that support would continue throughout their absence.

I was not there to farewell the men in the photograph but the war letters of Alfred John Voss have enabled me to step back in time and see how history played out for them and their community.

Ōropi is a rural community on the outskirts of Tauranga. The hall was the heart of the community and still is. There men were farewelled, fundraised for and had food parcels organised for them. The Ōropi Patriotic Committee worked tirelessly to ensure that none on their list went without.

Alf commented on the excitement caused by the arrival of parcels on Crete. “If you saw the lads opening these parcels you would see that all the work that goes to make them is worthwhile.” It was customary for parcels to be shared and the sharing strengthened bonds of trust within units. Alf not only received his issue of Ōropi parcels and New Zealand Patriotic Board parcels, but also got his fair share of personal parcels. He was a popular man when the mail came in. 

And the soldiers made sure they thanked their benefactors. On one occasion he had misplaced the letter accompanying a parcel but knew it to be from Ōropi. He duly wrote to the Secretary, Ōropi Patriotic Committee, only to be reminded by his wife in her next letter that SHE was the secretary! As much as the food, Private Hoet wrote that the parcels were ‘evidence that the good people of New Zealand are mindful of us and our welfare.’

As time went on it became more and more difficult for individuals to contribute to the parcels. Rationing of sugar was introduced, but the fruit cakes and ever popular shortbread were still baked. Labour shortages forced more women to help out on the farms, so time and ability to contribute was compromised. But still the parcels and gifts were sent.

Particularly appreciated were knitted woollen socks and balaclavas, and they needed to be ‘two inches longer than the patriotic pattern.’ Alf only wore his army issue socks when washing his woollen ones. After Crete he needed more socks. A friend, bereft of socks, had been lent his spare pair. The friend was killed in battle the next day.

Mail was the other lifeline for servicemen and the men really felt it when their letters from home were delayed. For Alf, married just a month before he left on active service, his letters from wife Eileen were his ‘tonic.’ The lengthy, newsy ‘homely letters’ made him feel just ‘a few miles away’. A cheeky cobber once quipped, ‘I guess you have a reporter for a wife.’

Alf treasured the photographs and letters sent and kept them close in the heat of battle. In a reflective letter written to celebrate their first wedding anniversary, he spoke of his pride in having ‘such a wife as you. When the sky looked black, and all seemed lost, while men did their worst to kill, I had that [photo] to look at, and know it was my job to win through.’ He had seen his share of ferocious front line and rear guard action, but it was only a taste of what was to come. But Alf never doubted that he would be reunited with his wife. 

Undoubtedly however he was devastated as more and more of his friends and comrades were killed in action. Such was the case when he returned to Egypt after Crete to find that the man whom he had come to recognise as a ‘good pal’ had gone missing in action in Greece. “Well, I can’t find Arnold,” he wrote. The slight-framed man who had stood in front of him in the 1940 photograph was one of many dead or missing and Alf was already reeling from the realisation that “Most of my real friends were lost in Crete”. His 18 th  Battalion was in tatters and only three of his platoon had managed to survive the carnage. He felt ‘lost.’

In a later letter, now settled after a leave break, he explained to Eileen how he had come to hold Arnold in such high regard. “One day I asked him why he had joined up. He said he detested seeing all us young chaps going, as he felt he was hiding behind us. He told me the same in his letter from the blue in Greece. That he wanted to join us as he felt he was shirking. That was the real Arnold.” And that had earned Alf’s respect and admiration."

The price of Arnold’s determination to ‘do his bit’ was to spend the rest of the war as a P.O.W. in Stalag 18A in Austria. Alf wrote of Greece, “We have disappointed you all, but after seeing the figures of our forces, you will realise it was impossible to do more than we did”.  Whilst he did not see Arnold again until the end of the war, they managed to maintain contact and the food parcels were sent.

While distance separated men and community, adversity could not diminish them. Sacrifice for the common good was shared by all. 
 

Author’s note: I have a copy of the photograph referred to in the story but for reference purposes it is Bay of Plenty Times, 1 November 2003. A copy is also held in Research Collections at the Tauranga City Library. Tauranga City Libraries Image Number: 00-036.