Finding a way to go to war
Colin Kemp was about to leave and join the WWII effort with the army when he was dobbed in for being too young. But he found another way to get overseas – the navy, writes Helen Harvey.
Colin Kemp apologises for being ‘‘hesitant’’. He has to collect his thoughts. It was a ‘‘long time ago’’, he says of World War II.
About 76 years ago Kemp, now 98, was on an oil tanker taking part in Atlantic convoys, from the north of Scotland to New York, watching other ships in the convoy getting blown up and wondering when it was his turn.
Seventy-seven years ago he was on a Royal Navy training ship in the English Channel on what would become known as D-Day.
And 78 years ago, in 1943, Kemp was packing up ready to head off overseas with his Army mates. He had been so keen to join up during WWII he added a year onto his age and joined the territorials.
After three years spent serving in the First Otago Infantry, the First Canterbury Infantry, and qualifying as a telegraphist, he was finally ready to leave and join the war effort?
Or so he thought.
‘‘A sergeant potted me for being underage. You had to be 21 to go overseas. I was 20,’’ Kemp says.
‘‘He was a NCO (noncommissioned officer) I’d had problems with. Or he’d had problems with me.
‘‘And so we didn’t see eye to eye and when he knew I was going on final leave he reported me as being underage to get his revenge.’’ Kemp wasn’t happy.
He had friends he had trained with, and they wanted to stick together.
‘‘But it didn’t happen. When you’re removed from that, and you’re on your own, it’s a bit difficult.’’
Kemp was based at Burnham Military Camp. So, the next time he had leave, he went into Christchurch and joined the navy.
He was accepted for the service, but had ‘‘long ambitions’’.
Kemp was keen to get to England to see some action, he says.
So, he decided to train as an officer. To do that he had to go to England.
During his training Kemp was attached to the Royal Navy. And on June 6, 1944 he was on the Royal Navy training ship HMS Ganges.
He was the only New Zealander on board, as far as he knows.
That day allied forces landed at five beaches in Normandy in what became known as D-Day.
The operation began the invasion of German-occupied Western Europe and contributed to an Allied victory in the war.
‘‘We weren’t told anything. We knew what was happening, but didn’t have any details,’’ Kemp says.
Though not directly part of the D-Day landings, 70 years later he was one of nine New Zealanders who returned for the anniversary on an all-expenses-paid trip, because he was with the Royal Navy.
The trip was a ‘‘great experience’’ that included shaking hands with
Queen Elizabeth and the late Duke of Edinburgh.
Kemp hadn’t finished his training when D-Day occurred, and thought the war would finish before he did.
He was a ‘‘bit concerned about this,’’ he says.
So, he applied to get off the course and was posted to an oil tanker on the North Atlantic convoys.
The tanker he was on, the Empire Bounty, carried 100 octane fuel.
‘‘That’s very explosive. When in convoys you were in a line. The troop ships were always in the middle and tankers always on the outside. If [tankers] were hit the danger was they would go into another lane and hit the troop ships, so the theory was if you were on the outside you wouldn’t cause too much damage.’’
Occasionally Kemp would see a ship get hit and go down. ‘‘Thankfully’’, he was not too close when it happened.
‘‘I’m still here.
‘‘It was nerve-racking. You’d wonder when your turn was coming, of course. You were very aware of the danger you were in, but you couldn’t do anything about it.
‘‘I was a radar operator and my position was at the top of the masts. We had to climb up to the top of the masts and use the radar from there. We only did short spells up there.’’
When he was off duty he used to go up to the bow of the ship, he says.
‘‘If we’d go up I’d get blown off and I might get saved. That was my theory.’’
The ship was shot at ‘‘but we didn’t get hit thank goodness because being on a ship carrying high octane fuel – if you’re hit there’s only one answer – you’re going to blow up.’’
It was something he was always aware of, he says.
‘‘You’re always mindful that you had to be aware of the possibility of being hit all the time. You’re on edge all the time.’’
Later he was in a group sent to Australia, en route to the Pacific.
But once they got to Australia, Japan surrendered and the war was over. He returned to New Zealand in late 1945.
Kemp, who was born in Palmerston in the South Island, had joined the Post Office before the war, and went back to the job after he returned to New Zealand, he says.
‘‘I was a post master and I spent a lot of time in Southland, all over. And I was post master in Ha¯ wera, and acting chief post master in New Plymouth when I retired in 1981.’’
When looking back over his war years, Kemp says his first thought is ‘‘I’m still here’’.
‘‘It was great experience for a youngster if you can come through it. You always knew anything can happen. Always on the alert.’’
While he wouldn’t admit to being scared, he says: ‘‘Of course you have your moments. But you want to see as much and do as much as you can.’’
It’s a bit difficult for him to recall all of it, he says.
‘‘I had my 21st birthday the day we sailed from New Zealand.’’
He got ‘‘picked up for having too many celebrations’’ and taken back to his ship.
‘‘There’s a few things you can’t disclose, of course.’’