Day 10 Part 2/6 Taumarunui to Pipiriki continued...
"Time on Reconnaissance is Seldom Wasted"
When I was a fresh faced police trainee at the tender age of 17, straight out of 7th Form I shipped out of my old home at 45 Murphys Road and was driven in a Police car to Picton and put on the ferry. I never went back. My parents sold up and shifted round the corner and reminded their remainder of their days. My sister now owns the house which I now regard as my ancestral home. I ended up in a Nissan Hut built as a horse stables around 1900 by the Army, at Trentham, along with the biggest bunch of incorrigible rogues, hard cases and eccentrics I have had the honour to know, collectively known as the Ted Gotham Cadet Wing. Some still keep in touch via the internet and their communication should be monitored by the SIS, the Sally Army, the censor. It should come with an R18 rating and a health warning. I know they are listening and watching and I expect huge donations from each and every one.
For the next 18 months, we ate together, worked together, showered together, and slept in our own beds.
The drill sergeant was a steely, blue eyed, ex British Army Commando who served in WW2. He wasn't tall but was terrifying. He had no understanding of fear or pain. We callow youths avoided eye contact for fear of being culled from the herd and used for demonstrations. Arms were twisted and bent beyond reasonable limits. Baton charges between groups was standard fare. Some probably still carry the emotional scars.
Once when in hospital he was reputed to have got out of bed with catheters, IV drips and God knows what else still attached to the alarm of the medical team, while he did his 60 morning press ups.
At the end of the course I was summonsed to accompany him up the road to Upper Hutt to inspect the building where we had our passing out parade. I remember nothing of that trip. Jimmy was a private man of few words. He may have only spoken these words all morning and I have never forgotten them.
"Arnold. " (I did not realize he knew my name, we were all just trainees), "Time on Reconnaissance is Seldom Wasted"
Some people on the TA would do well to remember it also. A famous example was a team who up Northtook the obvious well used track, but it wasn't, and ended up at the settlement beneath the Sand dunes on the north side of the Hokianga Harbour instead of at Kohukohu waiting to catch the next ferry to Rawene and hence to Opononi to gaze on said dunes across the harbour. Oops!
When I was managing Scenic Tours and Coachlines on the 1980's the All Whites Football team chartered a coach to take the team and management from Auckland to Palmerston North for a game. The press were waiting to do a conference at around 10 pm on their arrival. For some reason that escapes me they wanted to go via Te Kuiti which meant going around the west side of Ruapehu.
The coach was a magnificent 48 seater, tag-axle (3 axle coach) with a huge air-conditioning on the roof. I shall use an alias to protect the driver's identify. Let's call him Malcolm X. At Taumaranui Malcom X made a fatal navigation error which took him cross country to Stratford. All went well until the tar seal ran out, the road narrowed, the highway had no market posts, lighting or oncoming traffic. Malcolm X continued because there was no alternative. He coach was too big to turn.
The passengers sensed something was up and became restless. Questions were asked. The road got higher and windier until they reached a tunnel. Malcolm X was now truly concerned. Would the coach fit, on would the aircon? They inched through the tunnel to the relief of all and continued in stoney silence.
Meanwhile in Palmy the Met and Greet officials were getting worried. Calls were made...radio silence. The press stubbed out their durries in the empty coffee cups and slouched out mumbling. Malcolm X rolled in at about 3.00 am. A legend was born.
Two days later the NZ Herald had a byline in the sporting pages.
ALL WHITES DRIVEN TO DESPAIR.
Moral of the story..Ask a local
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