The end or a beginning? - US Forces in New Zealand

The end - or a beginning?

The end of the American invasion was a gradual process which started in the last months of 1943. For some New Zealanders it was a relief to see the men go; for others it was an occasion of sadness and, before long, grief as many Americans died, especially in the invasion of Tarawa Island. For both visitors and hosts the 'brief encounter' left powerful memories, some of which live on today.

Fond farewells

The ending of the invasion was a more gradual process than its beginning. Many individual units would leave for battle only to return a month or two later, battered and bruised. The thinning of the American presence as a whole really began towards the end of 1943.

As Japanese advances in the Pacific were turned back, secure bases closer to the action became available and the possibility of an attack on this part of the world diminished. In late October 1943 marines began embarking on transport ships in Wellington harbour. Night-time 'liberty boats' took the men back to shore for fond farewells; and then at dawn on 1 November, as white sheets waved a last farewell from Seatoun beach, the armada sailed. The empty camps around Wellington were soon broken up and the huts sold. Silverstream hospital was handed back to the locals in April 1944.

Three months later the last major force, the 43rd Division, left Auckland. Stores and offices were vacated; the Red Cross clubs ceased operation; milk bars and pubs found business slack. In October the naval base at Auckland was closed, and, although some 200 Americans were still at large in New Zealand as deserters and a few naval men were to be found in the ports until VJ Day, the invasion as such was by then long over.

Some New Zealanders must have felt a sense of relief. The occasional bout of fisticuffs between Kiwi and Yank which broke out during 1943 showed that for a few the welcome had turned sour. But for many New Zealanders the departure of the Americans was an occasion of great sadness. In many cases the men were off to war, and there would be a time of anxious waiting as friends, lovers and acquaintances wondered whether those cheerful Americans who had wandered into their lives would survive. Perhaps they would come back sick or wounded; perhaps they would even die in New Zealand to be buried temporarily at Karori or Waikumete cemetery (after the war the bodies were exhumed and returned to American soil). More commonly, the news would come back that they had fallen on a Pacific beach. This was especially the case with the last marines to leave Wellington, for their assignment was to capture Tarawa Island in the Gilbert Islands. This landing turned into an American Gallipoli, with men mowed down by the Japanese as they waded ashore. More than 900 were killed, more than 2000 wounded. The columns of casualty lists printed in the Wellington newspapers made sad reading for many New Zealanders. Some were now widows; and the papers began to print appeals from grieving American relatives for photos or information about their lost sons' last days of happiness in New Zealand. On US Memorial Day (30 May) in both 1944 and 1945 New Zealanders laid wreaths for the American dead.

Happy memories

The invasion brought a happy ending for some. Almost 1500 New Zealand women travelled to the United States as war brides, although for them too the ride was often rocky. In anticipation of living in the United States a number had set up the Eagle Club to swap information on the three C's - cookery, customs and the Constitution. They were then forced to wait. Space on the ships was tight, and many did not sail until 1946, often three years after their marriage. Some waited in vain for the necessary application on their behalf by their husbands, receiving instead notices of intention to divorce. Others travelled to the States only to discover that they had to produce a bond of US$500 on arrival. Fiancées had to wait even longer for the necessary permissions, if these came at all. Even those who made the journey successfully might find the culture more foreign and the relatives more suspicious than they had hoped. The Eagle Club extended its membership to the mothers who worried at home.

In the long term the memories never quite faded. New Zealand's first full encounter with Americans and their culture gave birth to new habits - swing bands, coffee and hot dogs - which would provide fertile soil for the increasing spread of American popular culture in the next generation. There remain many elderly women whose eyes light up and whose feet begin to tap when the subject of the invasion is raised, just as their elderly men mutter cryptically about 'those damned Yankees and our women'.

As for the American soldier, he is likely to keep a warm memory of that green and welcoming home away from home. He may be one of the few who have come back to live permanently. He may be one of the larger number who make a regular pilgrimage to 'the land we adored'. He will visit the old haunts, pay tribute at the memorials which have been put up to his comrades, and once in a while think wistfully about that lovely lady 'called Teddy, from Mount Victoria, I think' who allowed him to forget the war on Saturday nights at the Majestic Cabaret.