A Foxton wartime tale
Published on May 13, 2022
Real life fiction written by Kiri Pepene – Heritage Information Research and Local History Librarian
History and writing are tangled together because, at the most basic level, all historians are storytellers. There are some moments in history that continue to pull people in. When you set out to chronicle imaginary people of real times and places, it’s an attempt to see through the veil of time.
Historical fiction is a genre of writing that seeks to do this by creating imagined stories or characters within real historical contexts. As a Research Librarian, it is important that I set this narrative within a local context using newspapers, letters and accounts from our archives. Shelly, Dave and her son may be imaginary, but their experience is a familiar one within New Zealand.
When World War II started, life was good for Shelly. Living in Foxton with her husband Dave and young son, her days were full with looking after her family. Dave and Shelly had married in Foxton in 1937. Dave was working at the Woolpack factory and they had scraped together enough money to buy a small cottage in Cook Street. Things were going well for the young couple but in the middle of 1940, the family was hit with the unavoidable reality of war. Dave, along with nearly 60,000 New Zealand men, volunteered for military service. It was soon after that Shelly had to say goodbye to Dave as he headed to train at the Trentham Military Camp, before embarking overseas.
Immediately, things were different in the little cottage. No longer having her husband around, Shelly had to fend for herself and her young son.
Foxton really felt the impact of the war. Rationing was hard on the community and Shelly had to rely on a soldier’s pay, which was nowhere near as much as his Woolpack wages. Dave had ‘green thumbs’ and always kept a big hearty vegetable garden, while poor Shelly struggled to know what was a weed or vegetable!
Worry about her love, fear of attack from the Germans and the pressure of making ends meet, caused a great deal of stress for Shelly and she began to sink into depression. Like a number of other young women, she felt very isolated. She had moved to Foxton as a young bride and all her friends and family were in Hamilton. Letters kept her connected but she was lonely.
One of her neighbours suggested that she come along to the newly formed “Wives and Mothers Club” which had been formed to offer support to people just like Shelly. Welcomed with open arms, Shelly quickly threw herself into all of the activities the group offered. Having other women to talk to who were all experiencing the same feelings offered her support and made a difference to her mental health. Shelly discovered that she had a real skill for organising and soon found herself on several committees.
In Foxton, the streets were divided into blocks and each area was given the task to raise money for the troops overseas. Shelly became secretary of her block, arranging card afternoons, dances and shop days. She also joined the Patriotic Society whose sole aim was to raise money and send parcels overseas. Shelly always wondered if these parcels made a difference to the ‘boys’ and it was a real delight when the Society received a letter of thanks.
“Our gun team just received an issue of parcels, all packed by your committee, and I write this to express our deep appreciation of your efforts and your kindness. Thanks for the kind thoughts that prompted the dispatch of these parcels.”
– A.L. Fagg, 43rd Battery Regiment Middle East.
It was around the time of the Pacific invasion in mid-1942, that Shelly received a telegram from the War department. It informed her that Dave was missing in action. This was a very hard time for her, made even worse by the news that Japanese submarines and armed merchant cruisers were active in New Zealand waters.
Foxton was a small coastal town and invasion became a possible reality in 1942. The Manawatu Herald kept residents up to date with preparations and informed them of the steps they might have to take. When blackouts began in Foxton, Shelly had to prepare the cottage by sewing blackout curtains and making sure not a hint of light could be seen. The “Emergency Precautions Scheme” (EPS) worked with the Home Guard to plan for any eventual invasion. All the streets had a warden who visited homes and told them what they had to do in preparation for the blackouts and possible air raids. Shelly worried as the Home Guard told her that she should have a slit trench in the backyard for protection and she knew that she would not be able to do this.
It was huge relief when she read in the Herald that the Home Guard were building a shelter at the end of the school grounds by Ihakara Gardens. Schoolchildren were to use it during daylight air raids and it could accommodate three hundred to four hundred people at night.
The town also formed an Evacuation Committee and Shelly was one of the first to sign up. She wanted to do everything she could to keep her and her son safe.
Throughout the war, the Manawatu Herald had been a lifeline for her, keeping her up to date with all the news, both near and far. The Herald would publish stories of returning soldiers, and the many dances held in the Town Hall celebrating their welcome home. She would read them with a mixture of happiness and sadness, dreaming that she might one day dance with Dave in her arms.
On Wednesday 15 August, Shelly was home clearing up morning tea. At 11.00am, the fire siren sounded and soon after, a great din came from Main Street as car horns honked and the church bells began to ring. Japan had surrendered and the war was over. She rushed up town to join in with the jubilation. Her little son came running down Main Street with his classmates blowing whistles and hooters. Shop fronts were decorated with colourful bunting. The workers from the railway and the Woolpack factory joined in on all the fun. A Scot from the camp started to play the bagpipes and parade like the pied piper up and down Main Street, followed by a line of children. The Foxton people sang, hugged and cried. A real sense of triumph and elation filled the streets of Foxton.
After a while, Shelly rounded up her son and they headed home to the little cottage in Cook Street. As she prepared their dinner, she could still hear the noise coming from Main Street. Peeling the potatoes, her thoughts turned to Dave. No news had come about where or how he was. She looked at her son whose face was beaming. He had no real recollection of his father but she hoped that one day she could share her precious memories with him.
Her mood was melancholy as they ate their evening meal. A knock at the door startled her and the hairs on the nape of her neck bristled. No one called at this time. She sat stock-still. Another knock and she slowly walked toward the door. She was shaking as she reached out to open the door….
“Let us never forget all the men that were lost and for all those at home that never saw their smiles again”