Ponsonby Rugby Club

Unless you've never opened a book, you'll know that the 1940s were one of the most disturbed decades in human history. As the world tried to right itself in the late 1930s, after a catastrophic financial crisis, the political situation in Europe became so bad that war was inevitable and, on 3 September 1939, for the second time in 25 years, a massive European conflict began that eventually spread to all parts of the Earth.

Once again New Zealand and New Zealanders answered the call, but this time not at the pleasure of British military brasses. This time the New Zealanders were their own men and women, commanded by their own and directed by politicians who would not simply turn their troops over to what could be an uncaring British hierarchy. Those days were gone.

Back at home rationing became an unwelcome part of everyday life. Families who had been close to the bone for the best part of ten years had to tighten the belts again as the national interest was put first. There was no grumbling about it; this was just the way life was. It had to be done. In Ponsonby, where shillings had been closely watched for a decade, overspending alerts were attached to every household's income.

And yet, in these potentially soul-destroying years, some of the club's finest hours were recorded. It started unpromisingly: so many senior players were now in khaki that the club had only four left by early 1942, and a forced merger took place with arch-rival Grafton. Neither club wanted it but, in the spirit of the times, they grinned (albeit a little weakly) and bore it. When the chance to re-establish their own identities came in 1944 it was grabbed with both hands, and a dry-eyed farewell on both sides meant the really important business - beating each other - could recommence.

Social direction was provided by a group who became enshrined in club folklore as the Ladies' Committee. It was more accurately the social committee, it wasn't unisex - many husband and wife combos were key parts of it - and yet the title was totally apt. Having watched household budgets in a miserable decade before the war, those Ponsonby ladies knew how to stretch every penny to its maximum. They achieved the impossible - they funded many club occasions and even then still turned a significant profit. How they did it remains a head-shaker.

Not every Ponsonby soldier made it home. The club again had a long casualty list, and for the second time it included an All Black - Bill Carson, one of New Zealand's great all-round sportsmen and a cricket international as well, before he became a fine soldier. Four members of the 1936-38 Gallaher Shield teams didn't survive, and others were 'lucky', only being wounded. As in 1919, they tended to face their demons their own way once back home.

After the shooting had stopped Ponsonby got a marvellous array of talent from the ranks of returning warriors. No fewer than six had been part of the great 1945-46 Kiwis Army team, who fashioned a wonderful record in that depressing winter, and they and there were also others soon to be All Blacks. It took a couple of years before it all clicked but in 1948, an entirely domestic season with the prize of a 1949 South African tour awaiting the 30 best players, Ponsonby fielded a team for the ages.

For many returning to 'normal' meant adjusting to a life that was far from what they were used to. It meant having a 'real' job that wasn't soldiering, settling into suburbia, in many cases a marriage and, soon, a brood of kids to look after, often in a world where wages struggled to keep pace with rising prices. They had faced the ugliness of war with great courage, and now faced an uncertain future nervous of how they might handle it.