Andy Hislops Journey

Copyright © 2013 by Frank (jok) Davidson.

ISBN:                  Softcover                              978-1-4931-3743-5

                            Ebook                                   978-1-4931-3742-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 12/02/2013

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Contents

Chapter 1: Starting soldiering on

Chapter 2: European soldiering on

Chapter 3: Soldiering on Ethereally

Chapter 4: Andy reincarnated

Lieutenant McSkimming—recruiting officer

Corporal Mick Davies—NCO mentor

Andy Hislop—original hero

Peter Alvarez—boy hood friend

Basil (Baz) Davis—army friend

Will Johnson—army friend

David Watson—army friend

The Pardoe—troop transporter

Peter Gorton—Andy’s alter ego

Rhea Sterling—the girl friend

Wally Johnson—American tour bus driver

Jane Gorton—Peter’s sister

Alister Watson—Jane’s boyfriend.

Ron Hastings—Work foreman.

Chapter 1

Starting Soldiering On

Andy Hislop strode quickly and easily along the length of the long tree lined lane that connected his family’s farmhouse cottage to the main West Coast road. This road had been one of the main thoroughfares that the nineteenth century gold miners travelling between the East and West Coasts of the South Island of New Zealand used. This particular section of the road ran between Christchurch and the junction road that fed the north and south parts of the West Coast of the South Island of New Zealand. These were the areas in which the main gold fields that existed outside the other main gold bearing area in the New Zealand South Island, being the Otago Gold fields.

It was about three miles from the small village of Culverden, in New Zealand’s North Canterbury region.

Andy was a sturdily built, russety haired, individual. A true descendant of Scottish stock. He, just like his father was a shepherd. Some days he showed the benefits of two hundred and fifty years of shepherd breeding just by his solid dependability and weather hardiness. He had just had a real red roaster of an arguement with his father about why he should or should not join the New Zealand Army, to go and fight an overseas war half way round the world. He already knew that a few of his close friends and acquaintances had decided to enlist in the New Zealand Armed forces and go and fight for King and Commonwealth. He was now nineteen, approaching twenty, years old in this January of the year of our lord nineteen seventeen. He considered himself old enough to make his own decisions as to his future life. After all, he had often quoted to his father, which is, what you’ve brought me up to be, someone who can look after himself come hell or high water, not someone staying attached to his mother’s apron strings. He strolled easily down the now unsealed metalled surface of the main West Coast road. He had been walking for about thirty minutes when he met up with his good friend Peter Alvarez.

Peter was of Spanish descent. His grandfather and another couple of Spanish shepherds had been brought to New Zealand to help the local shepherds and sheep farmers to deal with the Spanish bred Merino sheep. A couple of New Zealand sheep farmers had decided that this well established Spanish sheep breed would be well suited to the New Zealand climate. They could also produce better fleeces in the New Zealand climate because of the improved feeding conditions. The move to the increased uses of natural wool in the fashion garment industry and various domestic items like carpets and upholstery had been one of the early reasons for this. The Merino sheep were faster physically in response to these conditions than the docile English breeds. This tended to keep the shepherds and their dogs very much on their toes. The Merinos could travel very fast especially during the heat of the New Zealand summers. The dogs and men had to quickly become skilled at dealing with the spiritedly Merino’s and their occasional long distance wanderings.

The two young men eagerly chatted about how they were going to go to this overseas war and help the British army fight and win the war against the then hated Germans. The New Zealand government had already taken some onerous steps in removing certain citizenship rights of German immigrants to New Zealand. Certain land ownership and voting rights had also been removed, much to the pleasure of some local district dignitaries and landowners. Also some leading German citizens had been interned in prisons until the wartime conditions had ceased and a true lasting result of peace had been arrived at.

They had already found out that the Army recruiting officer and his staff would be at The Culverden Hotel that afternoon. That being so, they weren’t rushing themselves but they easily covered the remaining two and a half miles to their destination. They arrived at the Hotel at about lunchtime. They decided to have what was on offer at the hotel including a couple, of what, as they considered well deserved beers.

They met the recruiting officer, a skinny young, university graduate, Lieutenant Daniel McSkimming. He had accompanying him a crusty old corporal, Mick Davies. He was dressed in his full service uniform which also sported a couple of campaign medal ribbons on the chest.

A man of Welsh ancestry who had been through the agony of the utter futility of the Gallipoli campaign. He had been wounded by a Turkish machine gun bullet which had passed through his thigh. Badly damaging the flesh, but not severing the artery or breaking the thigh bone. The Australian surgeon doctors in the field hospital had managed even with the primitive equipment, and available facilities to save Mick’s leg. He was grateful for this, apart from first thing in the morning where it was a real labour to raise himself out of his stretcher bed and getting vertical. He was then able to do a couple of the callisthenics that the hospital staff had told him he must perform and not neglect, for the rest of what, they hoped was going to be a long and fruitful life.

He did as they requested, but still every morning was the start of a new day and had to be dealt with like that as such.

Mick led the young men; there were now, five of them. Andy, Peter, and Willy, another local shepherd’s boy of Scottish stock like Andy. David son of the local grocer, who similar to Andy, had also had a loud and wild arguement with his father, and last but by no means least was Basil Davis, or Baz as he preferred to be called.

Baz was the eldest son of a ploughman from Gore. Gore was a small town, deep in the hinterland of the South Island. Baz had decided while he was visiting an elderly aunt who lived in Culverden that now was the time and place to join the army.

Mick led them through to a back room where the local G.P. doctor was waiting for them. One of his jobs was to do what was called the short arm inspection. This was the perfunctory test carried out to lift the penis, get the patient to cough, and check for scrotal movement. This was meant to indicate quickly that there was effectively no intrinsic damage or ruptures in any part of their lower stomach. They all five registered al right with this test. Especially when Baz presented himself. He always showed every chance he was given to show that he was pretty well endowed in the maleness area. While they were undressed they were checked for flat feet also, the doctor asked them to walk one by one across a piece of wet floor. He quickly viewed their footprints to see that they were full and correctly shaped on the floor. Fortunately they all passed this check.

The next was a quick reading and writing test. The stipulation for this test was to be as simple as possible. The reading test the team had decided was to be the first paragraph of the loyalty oath that they were about to take. The writing test was merely to sign legibly their own name twice on either side of a piece of paper. Again they all passed this test. The next part, the last part, was the taking of the loyalty oath. This was carried out quickly with just the required amount of ceremony.

Right you are, Gentlemen, when we have finished taking this loyal oath you will all be members of the Royal New Zealand Canterbury Infantry Regiment, and we hope you serve them well, Lieutenant McSkimming told them with a serious look on his face. At the finish of