John David Bennett (1915 - 2005)

Born 1915 in New Zealand

Ancestors

Husband of Louisa Lillian Isaacson (Kiddle) Bennett — married 22 Mar 1941 in Fiji

Died 2005 at about age 90 in New Zealand

John Bennett is an Anzac who served in World War Two.

Biography

He served in the Devonport Coast Guard during WW2; his address is given as his parents' address; 157 Victoria Road, Devonport. His wife Lillian Louise Bennett stayed in Suva, Fiji at this time. ^[1]

He enlisted in 1942, a Sergeant; Headquarters, 3rd N.Z. Divisional Artillery, Second New Zealand Expeditionary Force

Divorce case heard at the New Plymouth High Court 1950/1951 : Bennett, John David v Bennett, Louisa Lillian ^[2]

Sources

1. ↑ Auckland War Memorial Online Cenotaph - John David Bennett
2. ↑ National Archives R26150865 / ABAJ / 21955 W4079 / 235 / / D1121

• Dept of Internal Affairs, New Zealand www.bdmhistoricalrecords.dia.govt.nz
• N.Z. BIRTHS - 1915/12352 - Bennett John David - parents : Blanche & Harry Charles Plant
• "Fiji, Vital Records, 1900-1989", database, FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:D87D-MWPZ : 22 October 2020), Charles Plante Harry Bennett in entry for John David Bennett & Louisa Lillian Kiddle, 1941.
• N.Z. DEATHS - 2005/1515 - Bennett John David - birth 10th July 1915

Something Extra

New Zealand Herald 3rd March 1934 page 4 (Supplement) [1]

THE PIONEERS

by JOHN DAVID BENNETT 157 Victoria Road, Devonport. N.l. Aged 18.

Away in the backblocks of New Zealand is a little farm-house nestling beneath the brow of a range of mountains. It is deserted now, but it has a fascinating, though , sad story. From the front of the cottage - for it is little more - can be seen in the distance, the snow-capped peak of a high mountain, while the intervening country is broken by rivers and hills. In the early morning the sun rises like a great red ball at the back of the mountain range and gradually floods the farmlet with a slow, soft, translucent light which seems to shimmer and tinge everything with a beautiful and rare colour. The old farm sheds have almost collapsed, for the timbers are rotten with age. Many, many years ago a sailing ship cast anchor in a pretty little bay on the east coast of New Zealand. There were on this barque, two people, a man and his wife, who had decided to settle in New Zealand. The captain set them ashore with their tools, farm- implements and all the small things so necessary in everyday life, and when some of the sailors had helped to build a snug little cabin in a very sheltered spot in the bush they moved into their new home, feeling they were on the edge of a new world. Beside all their household goods, these two people had brought with them, cows, goats, a cat, a dog and several horses. All their spare time was spent in expeditions into the bush, looking for a situation for a permanent home. This they found one day, after they had been ashore about six weeks. As they breasted the top of a slight rise, Mrs. Anderson, for that was her name, exclaimed: " What a perfect spot for our farm, Jim!" " Yes, dear, it's like a second paradise. Let's explore."

This, they proceeded to do, becoming more enchanted with the place as they went. The distance from their little cabin was about five and a half iniles over a rough and tortuous route, and from then on Mr. and Mrs. Anderson made regular trips, taking tools, etc., each time, and preparing a small camp in which to live while he worked on the house. It was not long before everything was ready to move all the auimals and take up a temporary abode in their little cabin.

The building of their new house was naturally slow, as there were trees to be cut down, planks to be prepared and a hundred and one other jobs which were necessary. At the same time the cows had to be milked and the animals fed, so that there was not much spare time. On Sundays, however, they would rise a little later than usual, milk the cows, and have breakfast. After this, about eleven o'clock, they would have prayers and read the Bible, praying to God to help them in their new venture. Sunday was their day of leisure and the afternoon was usually spent in rides of exploration. A never-ending pleasure was taken in the vegetation of this new country. All the trees were new and interesting. These two pioneers had never seen' a kauri or a tea-tree before, in their lives, and these and the thousands of other native trees held them spellbound with their beauty and grandeur. Before a year had passed, their little homestead, with its sheds, barns and out-houses, was finished. In front, was a small garden which was carefully stocked with treasures from the bush. A stream flowed past the back of the house, providing plenty of water. Jirn Anderson soon had several fields planted in wheat, maize, oats, etc., and was able to make flour as soon as the crops ripened. About two and a half years after they had settled down in their new home, the stork paid them a visit and brought a baby boy. Ted, as he was named, grew up to this lonely life, consented and happy, and with a tremendous longing to roam away from home. He was never actually lost until, one day, when he was about seventeen years old, he went off on a country ramble, never to return. Many were the days and nights his frantic parents spent in searching for him, but their task was hopeless; poor Ted had fallen foul of a band of marauding Maoris.

Ted's mother died of grief about six months later, leaving poor old Jim Anderson alone with his sorrow. He lived for many years in this lonely, God-forsaken spot, never seeing a human being at all. He still had all the farm animals to care for and the cows to milk and these occupied most of his time, but on Sundays, he felt more and more, as each week passed, the loss of his wife and son.

At last he decided to pack up and go far away from the scene of his misfortunes. He set the animals loose among the hills, took his dog with him, and shouldering his pack, made his way to the coast. On arriving there he decided to proceed up the coast where he came across a bay where a large ship had put in to get supplies of water. When she sailed she took Jim Anderson with her, and the last New Zealand saw of him was a little black, ever-diminishing figure which was standing on the deck and gazing till the last, on the soil where lay buried his beloved wife and his son.