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On their way

The Mobile Units were initiated in February 1940 when the Director of the National Broadcasting Service, Professor James Shelley wrote to the government suggesting it might be a good idea to send broadcasters with the New Zealand Division to boost morale and keep radio listeners at home in touch with what their men were up to on the other side of the world.

This would be the first time New Zealand broadcasters had gone into a conflict zone and working out how to transport heavy, cumbersome recording equipment was a challenge for NBS engineers. This was the era before magnetic tape recording, which did not come into use until after the war. In 1940, sound recording could only be achieved by cutting directly with a lathe or disc cutter, onto large, lacquer discs – something which was hard to do successfully outside a radio studio as it required an absolutely still, steady, level surface.

In the end, the engineering team built a recording van at the Petone Railway Workshops, fitted it out with two disc cutters, microphones, cables, blank discs and various other pieces of equipment. The team also took a “Presto” portable disc recorder, which eventually ended up being their most useful bit of kit.

“Presto” disc recorder advertisement [via Presto History ]

The First Echelon of men of the New Zealand Expeditionary Force, (under the command of World War I hero Major-General Bernard Freyberg V.C.) had sailed from New Zealand in January 1940, bound for the Middle East. Shortly before their departure, Freyberg broadcast a farewell speech to New Zealand radio listeners, in which he poignantly recalled his service in World War I and the deaths of his friends and brother. Many young New Zealand men were enthusiastically signing up to fight, but he was under no illusions as to what ‘heading off to war’ meant.

In the next few months, while the Mobile Unit recording van was being built and equipped, the Second Echelon of New Zealanders also departed. The team to staff the Mobile Unit was named: NBS engineer Noel Palmer would be in charge, with young Norman Johnston as his assistant engineer. From Auckland station 1ZB of the National Commercial Broadcasting Service came the unit’s “commentator” Doug Laurenson, who was also a veteran of the previous war, having served with the Royal Flying Corps. (Eventually these three men would be rotated out and replaced by other NBS staff – and a second Mobile Unit would later travel to the war in the Pacific.)

None of the men were radio journalists – or even official war correspondents initially. They were government employees, embedded with the Army Headquarters Public Relations Office. They were not given military rank, but had the status and privileges of officers and wore military uniforms.

They left Wellington on 27 August 1940, onboard a converted Canadian passenger liner, the Empress of Japan. (At this point, Japan had not yet entered the war against Britain and her allies. Once she did in December 1941, the vessel was renamed the Empress of Scotland.) Together with another troopship, the Mauretania it was photographed moored at Wellington’s King’s Wharf (below). In the photograph, rail lines can be clearly seen running along the wharves beside the ships. In some of the first recordings made by the unit, as the ships were being loaded with thousands of men and their supplies, you can clearly hear the unmistakable sounds of steam locomotives, as they pull up alongside the ships.

Commentator Doug Laurenson recorded his commentary describing the embarkation of the Third Echelon from the deck of the Empress. In the background, as well as the steam trains, you can hear the shouting and cheering of the men calling out to their mates and military bands on the wharves below playing jaunty marches. The actuality recorded in this, their first official recording, is a good demonstration of how well a radio microphone and recording equipment can paint a vivid sound picture of a time and place. Listening to archival sound recordings like this one, is to me a form of time travel. It forces the mind to imagine the scene the ears are hearing and in doing so, seems to evoke a more complete image of the past than a photograph or even moving pictures in a film. Archival sound can take you into the past.

The embarkation recordings were not heard by New Zealand radio listeners until weeks after the ship sailed, when the discs were able to be sent back to the NBS in Wellington from Egypt. In them, we hear from the three broadcasters themselves who explain their hopes for what they wish to achieve in their work overseas, linking New Zealand listeners with their men on active service. Doug Laurenson signs off on behalf of their fellow passengers, the men of the Third Echelon: “They ask me to tell you to cheer up, to write often and look forward to their return, someday.” And to the strains of “Po atarau – Now is the Hour” , the ship departs, and they’re on their way.

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