Life In The Army

[Dave Homewood]

LIFE IN THE ARMY

THE PRIVATE'S LOT

GOOD FOOD SPOILT

UNSANITARY CONDITIONS

BY VOLUNTEER

(In this and the two following articles we print the observations of a city man, who shortly after the outbreak of the war with Japan was called up as a volunteer with the Territorial Army.)

I.

In writing of life in camp it is necessary to preserve a nice balance between personal experience (which though accurate may not be universal) and generalisations which must necessarily be based to some extent on hearsay. In the following article the facts given are all based on the personal experience of the writer; it may be that the experiences of others have been different, but an attempt has been made to paint a picture of general value.

Looking at camp conditions on the whole in New Zealand it must be acknowledged at once that a genuine attempt seems to have been made by the Ministry of Defence to look after the personal comfort of the man in the ranks. This is not to say that the man in the ranks is, in fact, comfortable; but in general the Government seems to have had a commendable intention that he should be so. Let us see how this intention has worked out in practice.

Choice of Food
In the first place the food is good; at least it has been good at every camp in which I have been so far. The rations laid down seem to be adequate in quantity, sufficiently varied, and good in quality. Since Christmas I have had a considerable quantity of stew served up to me, but I have also had roast meat several times a week for dinner, a good supply of vegetables, including peas, beans and carrots besides the more prosaic cabbage and the ever-present potato; green salads and tomatoes frequently for lunch; for breakfast fish once a week, bacon once, and two eggs each week — the other days admittedly sausages or stew.

Wholemeal bread has been there for the asking in each camp I have been in, and there have been plenty of apples, and an occasional orange. No soldier could reasonably criticise this menu as a matter of policy. Admittedly the serving of it leaves something to be desired; but of this more later. It should be added, however, that accounts seem to differ from different camps. The moral seems to be that if menus like the ones I have described are the rule at some camps, it must be due to local mismanagement if they are not the universal experience.

Bedding and Clothes
After food, sleep. The tents and huts I have been in have been good, and full without being desperately overcrowded. The men have slept upon wooden lath stretchers, which are just off the ground and very comfortable. On these there are straw palliases and sufficient blankets. The clothes issued are of good quality, and warm. No pyjamas, however, were issued to us, and only one towel; but no major criticism can be directed at the clothes issue.

What then is there to complain about? There is plenty. So far we have been discussing matters which are the result of simple policy decisions; when we reach the point of carrying them out in detail the system often breaks down regretfully. The cooking is often bad. Good food is wasted through being burned, contaminated by flies, covered thickly with dust, and generally maltreated. In one camp I was in the meat was sent for some time in open baskets, and always arrived covered with flies. In every camp I have been in the washing-up of the cooking utensils is shockingly bad.

The tea has been practically undrinkable during the whole period of my mobilisation through being made in "dixies," which are thick with grease and dirt. It may be said that the men can complain to the orderly officers. The answer is that they do, but conditions do not noticeably improve.

Bad Sanitation Conditions
Sanitation was one of the worst features of the camps I have been in. Another breakdown in the system in one of our camps was the inadequacy of the water supply. This was a particularly dusty camp, but because of strategic considerations it could not be moved. We had to put up with the dust therefore, as it seemed that the Government was unable to provide the few barrels of tar which would have transformed it. But there seemed to the men in the ranks no reason why there should be only one tap (except for the tap inside the cookhouse, to which they had no access). From this one tap all the men in the camp washed their faces, bodies and feet, washed their clothes, cleaned their teeth washed their plates, cups and cutlery.

It seemed in mockery that on the orders board there appeared an order that in view of the epidemic (an internal disorder) then current in this camp "every man should observe the utmost cleanliness." A horrible rumour began to circulate that it was because even the general officer commanding the district could not spend more than £5 without referring to an official in Wellington. This, of course, would also have explained the lack of tar. But on such matters more in a later article.


NEW ZEALAND HERALD, 14 APRIL 1942

[Dave Homewood]

LIFE IN THE ARMY

CONDITIONS IN CAMPS

OFFICER'S DUTIES

BY VOLUNTEER

No. II.

In the first article of this series it was pointed out that though the Government's policy seemed obviously directed toward the comfort of the man in the ranks yet personal experience showed that this benevolent intention was not always fully achieved in practice. The food, though good, is too frequently spoiled through bad storing, bad cooking and dirty utensils, while sanitation conditions, too, sometimes leave very much to be desired. In this article possible remedies will be discussed.

The most important man in the camp from the point of view of the men's comfort, is undoubtedly not the O.C., but the medical officer. I have been in camps where a capable M.O. has made conditions excellent, and in camps where a less efficient one has kept the men wretched. Let us see how a good medical officer works. At the first camp I was in (it was of medium size) the M.O. was a local practitioner who took his duties very seriously. Every morning at seven o'clock he arrived to see the sick parade. The sick men he dealt with expeditiously but carefully. He seemed, however, to regard the diagnosing and treatment, of the sick as the least part of his duties. He would then proceed to look round the camp.

Seeing for Himself
His idea of "looking round" was to go everywhere and see everything for himself. He would go into the lavatories one morning, for instance, and examine them carefully to see that all had been thoroughly washed and disinfected, and all rubbish tidied. Another day he would visit the cookhouse, and when he did he had a disconcerting habit of taking down dishes and utensils (and not the top ones or the nearest) and examining them for dirt or grease. He would look into cupboards and boxes. I heard him one day say to the cook, "What is in that old box?" "Flour, sir." "See that it is burned," said the M.O. He went away on his rounds, but half an hour later was back. "Is that box burned yet?" "No, sir." "Then burn it now; I'll wait." This is the medical officer who gets things done, who does not wait till an epidemic tells him that things are wrong. He inspected the menus, and asked how much milk each man drank per day. On being told that there was no way of knowing he instituted a compulsory cup of milk per man each day before lunch. Such an M.O. can transform a camp from the men's point of view. Even if his rank is quite junior, he can insist on his wishes being carried out, since he has only to write a report saying he will not be responsible for the men's health unless ...

Taking Less Trouble
In contrast to this medical officer was the M.O. at the next camp to which I was sent. In our camp the sick men had to parade each day at 8.30 a.m. The M.O. saw the men, and as far as we could see, his duties ended at that. There was an epidemic in this camp, and this epidemic gave concern to the authorities at headquarters. But although there was cause for concern, even alarm, the M.O. never found it his duty to make any periodical visit to this camp, or to investigate regularly for himself what was wrong in the conditions. In these circumstances matters were hardly likely to improve very rapidly.

Soldiers Cannot Complain
The private soldier, it must be remembered, is not able to make his voice effectively heard when camp conditions are bad. In the first place, when the spirit of the units is good (and in my experience it has been excellent) he does not want to let the unit down by "grousing". But the amateur soldier cannot forget that in his peace-time occupation, if something is obviously wrong, any member of the staff can "see the boss'' and complain, or make a suggestion. Any employer who knows his job is open to such suggestions: not so the Army. If Private Smith has an idea as to what is wrong or a suggestion for improvement, he must conform to Army usage. He must complain to his sergeant, who takes him to his platoon officer, who in turn, etc., etc., etc. At last the complaint reaches the rarified atmosphere in which the Camp C.O. absorbs his idea—and perhaps something is done.

Perhaps, on the other hand, nothing is done. In one of the camps I was in, as I have mentioned, there was an epidemic. A High Medical Authority made a special visit to see what was wrong. He was accompanied by a number of Brass Hats. Almost every man in the camp could have made intelligent and possibly valuable suggestions. Some of the men would have liked to be sure that the visitors really appreciated the facts, and would have been glad to point out the dust in the cookhouse, the solitary tap, the three greasy buckets used equally for scrubbing and cleaning and to carry water for the tea, the unfortunate lavatory conditions. But no private was ever asked to give his evidence or opinion. This would have been contrary to Army etiquette.

Is Men's Comfort Desired?
It may be, however, that the essential conflict is not one between army etiquette and the welfare of the men. There may be a deeper conflict still — one between the basic idea widely held and practised in modern professional and industrial life, that it pays to make the men comfortable, and the idea (which may still be the Army's) that the soldier's life should he modelled on Dotheboys Hall. If this is the conflict, is it not time this cardinal question of policy was settled? If once it is agreed that comfort in the ranks gives the best results, could not a remedy for existing ills be found, possibly, in a completely unorthodox suggestion, viz., a camp committee drawn from the ranks, with power to advise or recommend on matters of camp comfort?


NEW ZEALAND HERALD, 15 APRIL 1942

[Dave Homewood]

LIFE IN THE ARMY

SERVICE AS SYSTEM

PRIVATE'S REFLECTIONS

(In this concluding article the writer, a city man serving as a private soldier since the outbreak of the war with Japan, gives a newcomer's impressions of the Army as a system.)

BY VOLUNTEER

III.

Leaving the question of the state of the camps and the comfort of the men, how does the Army, as an organisation, strike the city man who joins the ranks as a private soldier? Let me give my own "worm's eye view" of it. The first impression, undoubtedly, which the newcomer receives is that of the overwhelming importance of the institution and the complete unimportance of the individual. The first lesson is to conform. This, of course, is very necessary to some extent. Where large numbers of men are to work together night and day their efficiency as a fighting force no less than their mutual comfort must depend largely on the effacement of self. Men must be trained, too, to obey orders instantly without stopping to question or discuss, for upon instantaneous action life and death may depend.

The Soldier as a Robot
This is not to say, however, that the soldier should be treated as a Robot, without ability to understand or desire to be informed. Too often, however, this is what happens. Too frequently plans are made by headquarters, worked out in detail by officers, explained to N.C.O.'s and then left to be carried out by men who have not been told anything about what they are supposed to be doing.

This is no exaggeration. Here is an actual example. In one operational camp in which I was recently, an alarm called out all the available men during the night. They fell in with all equipment and loaded rifles and moved off silently into the darkness. After a considerable walk the men found themselves scattered along a ridge, where they waited in the dark for some time: then a sergeant came along and marched them home. The point is that none of the men in the ranks knew, either then or afterward, whether the operation was a "real scare'' or merely a practice; no one knew what he was supposed to be looking for (if anything) or even which way he ought to be facing. This is by no means a unique experience.

Shovel and Wheelbarrow
The business man arriving in the army is, of course, struck at once with the immense amount of digging which is still done by hand. In all the camps I have been in, all the excavation was done by men with picks and shovels (often very old shovels and too few of them) and wheelbarrows. Apparently the mechanised methods of the Public Works Department do not apply to the Army. Admittedly, the men have to become fit and have to learn how to dig; but to put scores of city-trained men day after day digging out by hand large-scale excavations, which a bulldozer would finish off in a few hours, an unbusinesslike waste of manpower.

Too many men seem to have been called up only to use whole months, not in training (for in our camps there has been practically none so far), but in navvying. Navvying done, too, it will be noticed, very largely by men who have never done such work before. A frequent cause of wasted time is indecision and altered plans. Men too frequently spend half a week digging trenches, only to find that the other half of the week they have to be filled in and dug somewhere else. Wire is put up on Monday to be pulled down on Tuesday and re-erected on Wednesday. This, too, is felt to be especially regrettable when "every man is needed." Orders are too often given one day to be cancelled the next. Even before entering camp men find that they receive letters "to go in," and then a day or two later a wire arrives cancelling the order.

If nominations were called among the men for the most eminent example of this bureaucratic disorder, the vote would possibly go to the Army Pay Office at Auckland, as it appears to the unfortunates who have to wait for hours in its queues.

A Few Words of Praise
These, however, are some of the defects of the system as it appears at first blush to the business man. There is much, on the other hand, to praise. The good fellowship existing between officers and men, in the unit to which I was fortunate enough to belong, was more than heartening—it was inspiring. The complete unselfishness and helpfulness of soldiers and N.C.O.'s to each other was equally exhilarating. The resourcefulness and intelligence of the ranks in practical matters is first-rate; it only needs to be appreciated more by those in command. The singleness of purpose, the feeling of submerging self in an ideal of service—all those are a wonderful experience for the city man called to the Army; but the Army (as I hope I have shown) is still capable of some improvement.


NEW ZEALAND HERALD, 16 APRIL 1942