During that year Hitler invaded Belgium and eventually Britain declared war on Germany and the colonies were committed to it also. We were both milking cows and dairy products were needed to feed the army so we went ahead and made plans for our wedding on 15 June 1940. The day dawned, and a very white frost lay on the ground, but later on the sun shone beautifully. During the morning we helped my parents set out the tables for the ‘breakfast’, and then prepared for the ceremony. Rev Gilbert officiated and many relations and friends gathered to wish us well. That night my Father took us to Frankton to catch the train to Palmerston North. The mountains were a beautiful sight and we arrived in Palmerston North at 3.00 am, to be met by Alec’s Uncle with a pushbike. It was sure an experience to walk through the centre of town at that time, and we were so glad it wasn’t raining. Two weeks there with Aunt Steen and Uncle Joe and their daughter Myrtle, and visits to other members of their family, including one who was in charge of the power station at Mangahoe that supplied the power to Wellington, made for a very interesting time.
We returned home to pack up our belongings for my Father to transport to the farm we had agreed to work on at Whangarata. Going out in the dark, in a strange place, to find 20 cows that had already calved was quite an experience, but it didn’t take us long to settle in and become acquainted with the cows, the farm and our boss, Mr. Brewster. The farm was mostly hilly and looked down to Pokeno, with just the house, the shed and one paddock on the flat. A two-bedroomed house and a stove with hot water cylinder attached and as many conveniences as I had been used to.
In January 1942 Fred was born and while I was in the ‘home’ in Pukekohe Alexa rode her pony all the way to see me. What a thrill that was. When I went home Mother came to stay with us for a couple of weeks to help me get into a routine with our son.
It wasn’t long after that the fortunes of war changed, and men were needed more than butter, and it was decreed that Dad was ‘called up’ and Mr. Brewster would have to go back to milking his own cows, and we had to pack up and return home. In spite of feeling unpatriotic I had prayed that it would not be necessary for my husband to be sent to war, and even then I still believed my prayer would be answered. How?? Alec was fitted out with all the necessities and was to go into camp that day. My Father took him to the station and was met there by Harold Mayall and someone in authority, and was told that Fred Mayall had been taken to hospital with appendicitis and he was needed to milk the cows, so he came home again. I was not surprised, but truly thankful, and by the time Fred had recovered the emergency had passed and Dad was able to take on share milking for my Father.
Just before that time Uncle Sam and his family had moved to Reporoa to take over the farm the brothers had bought there – only really as a spec - with no intention of parting company. However, the milkers on the farm thought otherwise and left, leaving them a choice to make. So it was that Uncle Sam and his family moved to Reporoa and his home, Mailly, was empty. So we shifted in there and thus began 12 happy years when my parents were next door and the children were able to get to know and love them.
Those 12 years at Mailly passed by very quickly and happily, with the children becoming acquainted with their brothers and sisters, with their Grandparents and Aunts, and with the farm, cows, calves and horses, but they were never allowed the close association I had with them in my early days.
When Dad was going to Home Guard he got to know many neighbours, but Fred and Vic Keys became special friends. Their farm was across the main Gordonton-Hamilton Road, at the end of Boyd Road. Fred and Norma’s cottage was on Sainsbury Road. Later they bought land at Te Kowhai, but we still kept in touch and Dad and Fred spent some time each year deer stalking. They made friends with the owner of Lockinvar, a big sheep station that bordered on bush on the Taupo-Napier Road. They got permission to camp in the woolshed, so at least they were dry whatever the weather – but warm?
One year the water in the billy, ready for their morning cuppa, was frozen solid. They always came home with some venison, but never a lot. “Too heavy to carry” was their excuse, but they always enjoyed their time away and together. One year they came home with five little piglets. They had skinned them and they just looked like rabbits, but they were delicious.
After we shifted to Tauranga they changed their sport to fishing, and went as a party with Bob Grey. They took their own supplies for snacks during the day, but had breakfast and dinner at the Lodge on Mayor Island, and smoked their catch of the day. The last day they brought them home fresh – snapper, terakihi, and usually a hapuka or two. In between times Dad built himself a boat to fish on the harbour. The children loved to accompany him, one or two at a time, and they always came home with enough for a meal and often more. The boat was launched at Maungatapu and it was a good place to swim too, but when water skiing became popular it was a favourite area and the fish disappeared. About that time, Dad joined the Buffalo Lodge and the families enjoyed the annual picnic and a ladies’ night was a time of singing and fellowship, as well as the weekly meetings. Dad started as a new member, but eventually took a turn at each different position until he was Primo until he retired.
When Fred started school he met with the various childhood complaints, and willingly shared them with whoever was available – mumps with his Dad and chickenpox with me, as well as his siblings. He did not suffer much with any of them himself, but poor Melville took them much more severely. When Ron was six months old he had already had chickenpox and then got whooping cough too, so when school holidays came, Dad took us off to Raglan to enjoy the sea air and chase away the bugs. Fred was only just back in school when an outbreak of poliomyelitis closed the schools again and Mrs. Sainsbury lent us her house at the Mount to holiday in. Again, it was a time when Dad could not get away and we weren’t near enough to the beach to play there or to swim, but the time passed quite quickly all the same.
Dad, however, was not completely happy and whenever my Father mentioned that something needed doing, or should have been done, he took it as criticism of him and rather than stay and destroy the relationship we decided to look for a farm of our own. We went with several land agents from Apata to Gluepot Road. We did decide we liked the one at Apata and approached a friend of the family for a loan, but after inspecting it he felt there was too much grass grub for it to be a profitable investment. One place was advertised as having timber available for a house, only to find that was next door, and Government land. At this time we had seven children so simply could not afford a place that would not immediately produce an income, so we settled on a one acre piece of land in Ohauiti, with an old, but adequate house on it.
