“ALF IS A MAN”: The story of Alfred Andreassend

Alfred Daniel Andreassend was born on 1 October 1905 in Timaru. His father, Albert Marelius Andreassend, had immigrated to New Zealand from Norway before meeting and marrying Alfred's mother, Hannah Bertha Clark, in 1900. Hannah also had Norwegian roots, as her grandmother Kjersti Sigursdatter Sneie, had arrived in New Zealand from Amotsdal, in eastern Norway, in 1863.  

Like many immigrant families in Timaru, the Andreassend’s lived within a diverse community shaped by the gold mining industry and waves of new arrivals. Their household grew to include not only their own eight children but also three nephews with Chinese heritage. Hannah’s sister May had a son of Chinese descent when she was sixteen, who was adopted and raised by Hannah and Albert. Later, following the deaths of another sister, Hannah Christina, and her husband Ngh Gin Lum, the couple took in their two sons and three daughters. These acts of care deepened the family’s links with Timaru’s Chinese community, though anti-Chinese policies of the period meant that the boys were not entitled to social welfare. Stretching already limited funds to provide for an expanded whānau placed the Andreassend family under constant financial pressure.

The demands of supporting a large household meant Alfred received only limited schooling before entering full-time work at the age of 12 or 13.¹ His early working life began well before the Great Depression, but by the late 1920s and early 1930s he, like most New Zealanders, struggled to make ends meet, taking whatever jobs were available.

By 1934, Alfred had married Ivy Georgina Long and the couple had two children, Noel, born in 1927, and Gordon, born in 1934. To support his family, Alfred worked as a gardener, a farm labourer, a coal miner, and a construction worker before he joined the Territorial Army on a part time basis in 1937.² Alfred’s youngest son, Gordon Andreassend, later recalled that his father “became a crack shot as a result of this army training.”³ The camaraderie and patriotism Alfred experienced during his time in the Territorials was likely a key factor in his decision to enlist upon the outbreak of World War II.

In 1937, Alfred and his family moved to Christchurch, where they found accommodation in Forfar Road, St Albans. Their elderly landlord, Ben, lived in a small dwelling behind the house and maintained a large vegetable garden. Gordon, Alfred’s youngest son, recalled that on the day his father enlisted for war, Ben carved the words “ALF IS A MAN” into the skin of a growing pumpkin. As the pumpkin grew, so did the inscription. By the time Alfred departed from Lyttelton aboard a troopship, the words had become quite prominent. Gordon remembered his mother taking him into the garden to see it. One day, however, the pumpkin disappeared, only to turn up for sale at the local vegetable market, where Ben regularly sold his produce. Gordon’s recollection of that pumpkin, and the words carved into its skin, inspired the title of this story.⁴

Unfortunately, just before enlisting for service in World War II, Alfred faced legal difficulties.⁵ In February 1940 he was arrested on four charges of theft and sentenced to five years’ probation. The New Zealand Police Gazette described him as 5 foot 8½ inches tall, with brown hair, grey eyes, and a fresh complexion. Nevertheless, Alfred joined the Second New Zealand Expeditionary Force and began a chapter of service that would take him to North Africa.

Service and Capture

Alfred’s enlistment marked a sharp shift from the struggles of civilian life to the demands of military service. Only months earlier he had been working to support his young family through a mix of labouring jobs, and now he was training as a soldier in the Second New Zealand Expeditionary Force. He was one of three Andreassend siblings to serve in World War II. His brother, Bert Victor Andreassend, served in the Army in the Pacific and his other brother Arthur Henry Andreassend also served in the Army in North Africa and Alfred himself, who embarked with the 26^th Infantry Battalion, the first unit of the 6^th Brigade to arrive in Egypt.⁶

The North African campaign was the longest land campaign fought by New Zealanders during the war, and victories there came at a heavy cost.⁷ Alfred experienced this firsthand, taking part in some of the fiercest battles of the desert campaign before his capture in the first Battle of Alamein in July 1942.

Badly wounded in the fighting, Alfred lost his left eye and the bridge of his nose. He was then transported to Italy via Tripoli as a prisoner of war, where he underwent more than 20 operations at the POW Military Hospital in Caserta. This was only the beginning of his recovery, which later took him to hospitals in Germany. There, amid boredom and isolation Alfred discovered a new skill: needlework and embroidery. Several of his works from this period are now held in the Auckland War Memorial Museum collection, including a floral embroidery created during his stay in hospital in Germany.

The North African campaign was the longest land campaign fought by New Zealanders during the war, and victories there came at a heavy cost.⁷ Alfred experienced this firsthand, taking part in some of the fiercest battles of the desert campaign before his capture in the first Battle of Alamein in July 1942.

Badly wounded in the fighting, Alfred lost his left eye and the bridge of his nose. He was then transported to Italy via Tripoli as a prisoner of war, where he underwent more than 20 operations at the POW Military Hospital in Caserta. This was only the beginning of his recovery, which later took him to hospitals in Germany. There, amid boredom and isolation Alfred discovered a new skill: needlework and embroidery. Several of his works from this period are now held in the Auckland War Memorial Museum collection, including a floral embroidery created during his stay in hospital in Germany.

Craft for Rehabilitation

Although it may seem surprising today, embroidery and needlework had already been used in the rehabilitation of soldiers for decades by the time of World War II. The idea was first proposed in 1917 by English artist, actor, and ex-service person Ernest Thesiger, though initially rejected as too “effeminate [an] occupation for ex-soldiers”.⁸ Despite this, the Disabled Soldiers’ Embroidery Industry was created as a charity and quickly became a celebrated luxury textile workshop, playing a vital role in the renaissance of embroidery during the first half of the twentieth century.⁹ It also provided gainful employment for many disabled soldiers who might otherwise have been neglected by society. This was essential as, by the end of World War I, the concern for the welfare of disabled servicemen had “edged dangerously toward national panic.”¹⁰

Combining the need for veteran support with the expanded fields of orthopaedics and psychiatry, the Disabled Soldiers’ Embroidery Industry cemented the value of craft as therapy.¹¹ The workshop demonstrated the physical and mental benefits of embroidery in the process of rehabilitation, increasing dexterity and concentration while providing emotional solace.¹² This form of occupational therapy promised, “the acquisition of new skills, moderate physical exertion and pleasure in work,” which allowed craftwork to be applicable “to almost any type of patient, even those suffering from the newly diagnosed psychological injuries.”¹³

The Royal School of Needlework ran schemes to teach embroidery to recovering soldiers at Netley Hospital, near Southampton in England,¹⁴ and the practice extended across Britian and into New Zealand. While concerns regarding the gendered connotations of the craft undoubtably persisted, the medical benefits were undisputed, and the practice continued into World War II.

A widespread practice

Letters in the New Zealand prisoner of war pamphlet show that Alfred was not alone in turning to embroidery during captivity. Families often sent craft supplies through Red Cross parcels, and POWs wrote home about the pleasure and distraction these materials provided. Lieutenant John Graham Buckleton, for example, told his family he was “very pleased with the tapestry. There is a chap here who is very good at it and he will start me off.”¹⁵ Similarly, Corporal Denis William O’Callaghan described completing a “piece of tapestry fancy work, about 11 inches x 9 inches with over 11,000 stitches in it, it worked to look like a village” while held in Germany.¹⁶

Alfred’s own Berlin wool work piece, now in the Auckland War Memorial Museum collection, reflects this wider practice.¹⁷ The tapestry depicts a landscape with a caravan and an elderly woman seated inside. According to Alfred’s son, one of the German women living in the large building that housed the POW hospital offered to sew the woman’s face. Alfred accepted the offer but later said he regretted it as he felt he could have done a better job himself.

Berlin wool work was well suited to the unique conditions and limited resources of camp, as it was durable and popular among beginners.¹⁸ While neither John nor Denis’s art is held in our collection, Alfred’s work provides an insight into a practice that expanded far beyond any individual. Instead, these embroideries became symbols of resistance and creativity in the face of enormous obstacles. Though these men may have been separated by great distance, the shared experiences of capture, imprisonment, and craft brings their stories together and demonstrates the breadth of life within POW camps.

Life outside of hospital

Although Alfred spent long periods in prisoner of war hospitals, he was also transferred at times to POW camps, where his recovery continued amid the harsh conditions and regulated life of the camps. At Stalag VIII-A in Gorlitz, Poland, he endured poor conditions that Red Cross inspectors criticised for overcrowding, lack of heating, and inadequate medical supplies.¹⁹

Amid these challenges Alfred formed a close friendship with fellow prisoners, Ivan Hay, Richard George Mangham and Stuart Laurence Meares. The four men pledged to reunite in Nelson after the war, signing a postcard that read: “be at the Wakatu Hotel, Nelson for the purpose of one week’s reunion with Andy Andreassend,” to be held on the second Monday of 1945.

For Alfred and Richard in particular, who had both suffered severe facial injuries, this companionship offered more than camaraderie — it became part of their recovery. Finding community among others who carried similar wounds proved vital support, complementing the medical treatment Alfred would continue to receive after his repatriation in June 1945.

Continued Rehabilitation

Alfred was repatriated from Germany in 1944, making his way from Munich to London via cattle wagon and then train. In an account to his son, Alfred said that Munich was in ruins and a German guard there had lied and told him that London was in an even worse state. When he arrived in England, he was relieved to discover this was not true.

While in the UK, Alfred underwent further surgery under doctors associated with the pioneering work of the Guinea Pig Club at Queen Victoria Hospital, East Grinstead. Formed in 1941, the club supported servicemen undergoing experimental plastic surgery under the leadership of New Zealand surgeon Sir Archibald McIndoe.²⁰ While most members were injured aircrew, Alfred’s treatment place him within the wider circle of patients who combined recovery with social support.

Alfred’s surgeries under McIndoe, and later at Burwood and Middlemore hospitals, eased his pain and improved his condition. Beyond the medical benefits, freedom from captivity gave him access to a wider range of materials for his craft. His tapestry cushion cover from this period shows greater complexity than earlier work, with a floral fabric backing and orange fringe, while a woven belt with a chrome buckle and multi-coloured thread demonstrates his expanded practice.

Back in New Zealand

After approximately 100 operations across Italy, Germany, the UK, Alfred continued to receive surgery once home in New Zealand. He married his wife Ivy and had two children, Noel (born 1927) and Gordon (born 1934). In 1946, he settled in Woolston, managing to secure one of the new state housing sites, so his children could attend school in the area. This was their home for three years before Alfred was selected to go to St Dunstan’s in Auckland. At the end of 1948, the family packed their belongings and left Woolston, moving to a state house in Ōnehunga, Auckland.

St Dunstan’s, a British-founded charity (now Blind Veterans UK), which provided rehabilitation, retraining, and long-term support for those blinded in military service. From its base in the UK, St Dunstan’s promoted the idea that ex-servicepeople should be trained “not only as craftsmen, but where possible as shopkeepers too,” so that they could sell their own items in dedicated shops. This approach combined physical rehabilitation with the dignity of meaningful employment, and embedded craft — including embroidery, sewing, and weaving — as a recognised pathway to recovery.²¹

The spirit of this work extended to New Zealand. By 1942, a New Zealand Committee for War Service Blinded had been formed to arrange suitable training for blinded or partially blinded servicepeople, including learning Braille, typewriting and craftwork.²² In February 1944 the Hawke’s Bay Herald-Tribune reported that the Rehabilitation Board planned to establish a “miniature St Dunstan’s” in New Zealand with Maungakiekie, Auckland selected as the most suitable due to its links with the Institute for the Blind.²³ This was the programme Alfred entered, providing him with a safe and educational space to refine his creativity, develop new skills, and continue his recovery in peacetime.

After his time at St Dunstan’s, Alfred and Ivy remained in Ōnehunga, though both their sons had since moved out. Alfred died on 19 February 1965 at the age of 59 in a car accident and was buried in Waikaraka Cemetery in Ōnehunga.

Conclusion

Despite extraordinary challenges, Alfred’s life stands as a testament to resilience and recovery. His story highlights not only personal courage but also the role of creativity in rehabilitation, from the embroidery he began in captivity to the craft training he continued at St Dunstan’s in New Zealand. In this way, his experiences illuminate the wider history of disability and craft during and after World War II, showing how art could support both physical healing and emotional strength. Alfred’s work reminds us that even in adversity, creativity offered a means to endure, connect, and rebuild.

Ngā mihi nunui

This Cenotaph Story would not have been possible without the family history conducted by Ronald Andreassend, and the generous input of Alfred’s son, Gordon Andreassend.

References

1. Andreassend family, ‘Alfred Daniel Andreassend (1 October 1905–19 February 1965)’, Andreassend Family from Timaru, including recollections by Gordon Andreassend (1 October 2009) and Noel Andreassend (2009). ↩︎

2. ibid ↩︎

3. ibid ↩︎

4. Gordon Andreassend, email correspondence with Sophie Elborough, 29 September 2026. ↩︎

5. Andreassend, Alfred Daniel. P.G. 37/192. F.P. Class 12/10 (I/.) 4/16. New Zealand Police Gazette, Volume LXII, Issue 21, 2 June 1937, Page 31 (Supplement); New Zealand Police Gazette, Volume LXII, Issue 7, 24 February 1937, Page 191 ; ↩︎

6. Scoullar, J. L. (1955). Battle for Egypt: The Summer of 1942. Official History of New Zealand in the Second World War 1939–45. Wellington: War History Branch. ↩︎

7. The North African Campaign, (Manatū Taonga — Ministry for Culture and Heritage), updated 6-Dec-2022 ↩︎

8. McBrinn, Joseph. 2020. The disabled soldiers' embroidery industry casket in the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa. Bulletin of the Auckland Museum. 21: 81–86.↩︎

9. ibid ↩︎

10. McBrinn, Joseph. ‘The Work of Masculine Fingers’: The Disabled Soldiers’ Embroidery Industry, 1918–1955. Journal of Design History 31, no. 1 (February 2018): 1–23. p.5. ↩︎

11. ibid ↩︎

12. von Kürthy, H., Aranda, K., Sadlo, G., & Stew, G. (2022). Embroidering as a transformative occupation. Journal of Occupational Science, 30(4), 647–660. ↩︎

13. ibid ↩︎

14. McBrinn, Joseph. ‘The Work of Masculine Fingers’: The Disabled Soldiers’ Embroidery Industry, 1918–1955. Journal of Design History 31, no. 1 (February 2018): 1–23. p.5 ↩︎

15. The New Zealand prisoner of war pamphlet : official pamphlet of the Prisoners of War enquiry office of the Joint Council of the Order of St. John and the New Zealand Red Cross Society. No. 8, p. 21. ↩︎

16. Prisoners of War Enquiry Office of the Joint Council of the Order of St. John, & New Zealand Red Cross Society. (1942–1944). The New Zealand prisoner of war pamphlet. No. 8, p. 7 ↩︎

17. The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica. (n.d.). Berlin woolwork. In Encyclopaedia Britannica. ↩︎

18. Hertz & Wegener, Needlework pattern [19th century]. Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa (GH017108). Collections Online. ↩︎

19. Meetingpoint Memory Messiaen e.V. (n.d.). About Stalag VIII A. ↩︎

20. Hormann, L. (2019, September 20). The Guinea Pig Club: New Zealand connections. Air Force Museum of New Zealand. ↩︎

21. Gosling, George Campbell. ‘Blind Veterans UK/St Dunstan’s’. Interview by Georgina Brewis, Charity and Voluntary Sector Archives, 19 February 2021.↩︎

22. Blind Soldiers. Marlborough Express, Volume LXXVI, Issue 162, 13 July 1942, Page 4 ↩︎

23. "Maungakiekie It Spells Confidence for the Blinded", Change Step, October 1946, volume 1, no. 8 p.3 ; "Blinded Servicemen Start New Interest-filled Life When They Begin Training At St. Dunstan's ", Change Step, February 1948, volume 2, no. 10 p. 2 ; Miniature St. Dunstan's To Be Established in N.Z. Hawke's Bay Herald-Tribune, Volume 87, Issue 113, 4 February 1944, Page 5 ↩︎

Further Reading

Further information about the Andreassend family of Timaru, including family history, photographs and genealogical research, is available on Ronald Andreassend’s website, Andreassend Family