Don Huebner ONE MARINES ADVENTURES IN WWII
Noumea and Australia
After seemingly endless boring days at sea we excitedly yelled "Land Ho" as a dark line surfaced on the horizon ahead. As we got closer small islands began to slip past as Dolphin cavorted around our bow showing us the way in to the harbor of Noumea, New Calidonia.At anchor offshore small boats came alongside to take on the disembarking troops assigned to this area. Those of us not disembarking lined the rail to watch as cranes lifted supplies and personal baggage up out of the hold, up and over the side lowering the pallets into boats below. One pallet supported by four cables attached to corners carried a load of seabags and as it cleared the rail near me I saw my name stenciled on one of the bags... "Hay, that's my... as one cable snapped tilting the pad to dump the whole load into the deep blue sea. As a harbinger of many more miseries to come that cost me most all of my uniforms and many valuable personal items, photographs letters and such.
As the wonderful shores of Australia hove into view it was love at first sight. We thrilled at first the sight of LAND it became so appealingly beautiful as little shoreline cottages, village churches came into view with a few cars along the road.
Heretofore we had no idea of where we were going fully ex pecting to be dumped on the beach of some tropical island. This was civilization personified as we neared Melbourne's harbor and tied up to a dock. Gangplanks lowered and we scrambled down to revel in the steady stance of being on solid ground after four weeks of the oceans movement.
Roll calls designated us to various groups to form up units for dispersal to our assigned organizations. I sat in the left seat of a Chevy pickup truck while the driver sat under the right hand side steering wheel.
After so many weeks of nothingness we gawked at the busy city of over a million people, noting the London type double decker buses and cops with 'bobby' peaked helmets. Hurrying through busy traffic we set course for our destination the Eleventh Marine Artillery Regiment stationed at the delightful little city of Ballaret, about seventy miles north.
Zipping along the two lane highway it seemed very strange for me to be sitting on the 'drivers' side while he was on the right. Eventually he asked me to drive and stopped to walk a round back while I slid across to sit on the right and drive.
This was a spooky feeling to have oncoming cars speed by on my RIGHT! Took some concentration to hold it on proper side and occasionally during conversation I would absent mindedly ease back into the proper lane on the right. Several oncoming vehicles appeared in my lane and I soon adapted to the proper way to drive in the land downunder.
The driver said that there had been some major headon collisions as Yanks rounded curves on the right...wrong.. side. Arriving in Ballaret we were dispersed to various battalions of the regiment and I was deposited at headquarters of the Third Battalion, Eleventh Marines.
About thirty of us replacements lined up and listened to our assignments. Asked if anyone could use a typewriter I had had one semester of high school typing instruction but no speed demon at all. I was snatched up and pushed into the headquarters office and introduced to Corporal Richard Fahey, my new 'boss'.
There was a backlog of paper work to be done and I was welcomed by the staff and given a desk and typewriter to start immediately typing up various orders, reports and recordings of court marshal proceedings. Our frisky Guadalcanal veterans often over stepped a few laws in their quest for recreational endeavors and often faced legal chastisement.
After a few days in this prestigious position I was soon well beyond the usual disdain held of raw recruits arriving and enjoyed an aloofness from the surfs in the ranks. We were in the center of everything and supposedly 'in the know' and often old salty Marines deferred to me asking about the latest 'dope', (information).
Eventually, a year later, this inside track allowed me to be selected as the battalions mail orderly carrying the mail to about five hundred men. Thus, in this esteemed position, I became an 'untouchable', beyond the reach for use on guard duty, work parties or whatever.
In actual combat situations I had no duties until such time of mail arriving in that area so I was just a happy wanderer and roamed around sightseeing wherever we happened to be. A tourist enjoying all the islands we visited.
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In this delightful little town of Ballaret I saw freezing rain and sleet on July the fourth and this was an unusual sight for those of us from north of the equator. This pleasingly quaint little town had about forty thousand inhabitants who welcomed the Marines wholeheartedly. We loved them. Of course they were glad to have military man power there for most of Australias troops were far away in Africa, Greece and New Guinea's jungles. Plus they were aware that this bunch of rowdy kids were the ones who stopped the Japanese movement right on down to New Zealand and of course, Australia. The regimental camp was set up in a city park about two miles from the heart of town and we utilized the electric tram that serviced the area. This was one facet of the towns charm, this stubby little "Toonerville trolley" was about thirty feet long. We boarded at the back and paid a lady our fare and sat in the center glassed in cab area. The conductor driving and the lady were both outside glazed in areas in the wet cold. Our camp duties ended at five each afternoon and the pubs closed at six P.M. by law, so we hopped a tram urging more speed and hit a bar as quick as possible. Often we ordered several drinks placed on the bar before us and tried to get a 'buzz'on before being politely evicted at six o'clock closing time. The little town had only two movie theaters and these offered only one showing of a film each night so individual seats had to be bought for each performance. A diagram of the floor indicated seats by row and number for us to choose from.
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Often we stopped by the theater after being gently shoved out of the pub just to visit with the girl in the glass booth. At that time I was one of those dumb adolescents who became silly on three beers and one day I left the pub to go check the theater chart to see what was available. With a salacious grin I studied the chart to note most of the seats had been sold and then snatched the chart out and ran down the street with it hearing the poor girl yelling after me. Now they had no idea of what seats were sold and not sold. I often marvel and the patients of those wonderful people who tolerated the many indiscretions of this bunch of miscreants far from home.
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