This is a mobile proxy. It is intended to visit the IOMfAtS Story Shelf on devices that would otherwise not correctly display the site. Please direct all your feedback to the friendly guy over at IOMfAtS!

Brownsville Tales

by Kiwi

Boy Chapter 1

3 September 1939, German forces invaded Poland. At 11.30am Neville Chamberlain, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, declared war. A few hours later, 9.30pm, Michael Joseph Savage, Prime Minister of New Zealand, addressed his nation and declared war on Nazi Germany.

"It is with gratitude for the past, and with confidence in the future, that we range ourselves without fear beside Britain, where she goes, we go. Where she stands, we stand!"

Although, at that time, there was no direct threat to New Zealand, the 'Home Country' was at war, so New Zealand was too. The people embraced the cause and followed their leaders enthusiastically. In 1939 the regular army numbered 593 men but there were immediate queues at every recruiting office in the country and the 2nd NZ Expeditionary Force was in Egypt by February 1940.

The Maori people were exempt from military service but they demanded to be allowed to participate and the Maori Battalion was formed in October 1939. They didn't mess around in those days.

By the end of the six year long war 194,000 men and 10,000 women served in the military forces - almost 15% of the total population. In addition, 100,000 served in the Home Guard, mostly in New Zealand but also in the Pacific Islands.

When Japan entered the war, in December 1941, there was, for the first time, an actual chance that New Zealand might be invaded. The shooting war was very far away but now the Home Front had something concrete to worry about and thousands of tons of concrete were poured into coastal defences, gun emplacements, pill-boxes and air-raid shelters, especially around the entrances to the ports and harbours.

In Brownsville, a 5 inch gun was installed at the rivermouth, on the South Tiphead, and a large, concrete, underground shelter built between the bottom of the main street and the railway yards and wharves. This central facility was big enough to shelter all of the workers and townspeople who might be in the area.

As it turned out, it was never needed. The only invasion that New Zealand suffered during the war years was the friendly invasion of the American forces, and that was mostly in the cities. They came for rest and recreation, their presence helped reassure a nervous population whose young men were all gone to war, and they changed the local culture forever.

After the war ended in 1945 Brownsville's shelter lay out of sight and forgotten for several years. It was not needed, not wanted and, as a testimony of war-time hysteria, a bit of an embarrassment really. Eventually, the down-sized Defence Department off-loaded ownership on to the local Council.

The Borough Council had no use for it and they didn't want it either, so they were delighted to sell it, dirt-cheap, to a local man who made an offer for it. Stephen Martin didn't really want the shelter either, what he wanted was the big empty area above it and the valuable location that it lay in.

Stephen was a young man, full of ambition and in a hurry. He'd recently finished his apprenticeship and qualified as a motor-mechanic. Throughout the 4 year term of his apprenticeship he'd always hoped to take over the business from his boss, Barry Jones.

It was a reasonable dream, Barry was getting old and he was forever talking about retiring. However, it wasn't going to happen. He was retiring but the business would never be Stephen's. Barry had a son, (who knew?), and he was going to take it over.

The son, who Stephen had never heard of before, arrived one day and announced his own plans. He was moving home at the end of the year, the old man was handing the business over to him and he was going to run it. There would be other changes too, there'd be no room there for Stephen, he'd have to find another job.

Stephen pretty quickly decided that he wouldn't want to stay there anyway, he didn't like the guy. Barry was a nice old guy, his son was a prick.There were two other mechanics' businesses in town; he inquired about work at both places but they had no vacancies, not for him anyway. They were both quite rude about it and both said that they wouldn't want anyone who'd been trained by Barry Jones.

Thinking back later, Stephen always said that they did him a favour, but at the time he was pissed at them. Anyway, that was when he decided to go into business for himself.

There was room in the town for another garage, especially if he concentrated on the fishing fleet, and he had a bit of money coming his way. Retirement was looming for their parents and neither he nor any of his siblings wanted to take over the family farm, so it was on the market.

His father readily agreed that Stephen could take his share of the inheritance early, there was no point in waiting for the parents to die when he needed the money now. He really needed it too, money that is. Not only did he need to make a job for himself, he had to get a home together as well - his girlfriend was pregnant.

They hadn't planned on that but these things happen and it was done now. He was going to be a father so he needed to get ready for it.

He wandered around the town looking for a suitable place to work out of. Unfortunately, businesses generally were booming so there weren't many empty places about. Then he found one, a big old shed down the back-street near the wharves. It was empty and, apparently, unused, it was all boarded up. The Borough Council would know who owned it, so he went in there to ask.

The Town Clerk, Tom Moore, was a mate of his father's and he'd known him for years.

"In Adderson Street? Sure I know who owns it, we do. The Council that is. It was used during the war by the Defence Department and they dumped it on us when they wanted to be rid of it."

"It was built in the war? It looks a lot older than that."

"It does, it's meant to. It was built with second-hand materials and was supposed to look old."

"Why would they do that?"

"Camouflague, I guess. That was in the days when they were scared we might be invaded or bombed. It's actually over the top of one of the main entrances to the air-raid shelter."

"An air-raid shelter? I didn't know there was one there."

"Well, now you do, Young Stephen. Not many people do know actually, it's forgotten about already. There's a huge underground shelter under that whole area, most of the block in fact. Hundreds of tons of reinforced concrete went down there and now no-one wants it."

"I don't want it either, but I'd be keen on buying the shed."

"Would you now? Maybe we can do a deal, you and I."

It wasn't what he'd planned, but he finished up buying the shed, the shelter and the whole big empty area. It was cheap.

His older brother, Adam, came up with the next bright idea. He had a small carrying business, well he had a truck for hire and worked for himself. He'd been moving a few houses around recently. It was a big job but not too bad if you knew what you were doing, and he did.

"Tell you what, Little Brother, you'll need somewhere to live with your new bride. . ."

"I know that, but money's tight. I thought that we'd live in one of the old worker's cottages on the farm for a start."

"That's just what I was thinking, but you couldn't stay there long - the place is for sale."

"Yeah, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. I've got a workshop now, but I couldn't see Julie living in that, which is a shame in a way, it'd be great to live close to work."

"It would, so why don't we pick the cottage up and move it into town? You've got all that empty space sitting there doing nothing. Julie would be happier living in town too, just a few minutes walk from the shops and her mother's place and everything."

"That'd be brilliant, but I couldn't even afford to do that - I'm stony broke."

"It won't cost you anything. Dad'll give you the cottage, he doesn't want it anyway. I'll move it in for you and get Noel and John to help set it up on foundations and put the power and water on. That can be our wedding present to you two. Plus . . "

"Plus?"

"Yeah, plus, I'm going to need somewhere to keep my trucks. If you'll let me use some of your empty space, I'll fence it off, slap-up a shed and operate my business next to yours. I will be better off in town too. That's a prime site you've got there. I'll pay for everything but you have to help with the labour. Give me the first year's rent for free and, after that, I'll pay you something to help with the rates and everything. What do you say?"

"I say, don't tell Noel and John, but you're the best brother! Thanks, Adam, we'll do it!."

Their brothers, Noel and John, were builders and they wanted to move into town as well. The Old Man's selling up was upsetting everyone's lifestyle. They were self-employed as well. This was a family that liked being their own bosses. They agreed that they'd help get Stephen and Adam set-up, as long as they could have a section to put their own shed and yard on as well. Stephen was delighted.

"Thanks, Brothers. We'll all work out of there. People will be calling it 'Martinville'."

"Yeah, but you and Julie will be the only ones living on-site. You can be the night-watchman in your spare time."

"Not a problem!"

It all happened really fast. By the time Stephen and Julie returned from their 4 day honeymoon, the cottage was ready and waiting for them to move into and his brothers' sheds had all been built, mostly from second-hand materials.

There was still a lot of unused space. It was an excellent area to build on, commercially rated and centrally located in the town's industrial area and flat and solid ground. There was just a couple of feet of sandy soil spread over the concrete underground shelter.

Julie loved their little cottage. It was small, just a central kitchen/living-room and a tiny bedroom at each end. It was old and rough, but it was all theirs and, although she was heavily pregnant, she worked hard to make it into a home.

Next
Chapter
Talk about this story on our forum

Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.

[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]

* Some browsers may require a right click instead