In the popular telling of New Zealand’s military history, the country is often cast as a recipient of overseas innovation, dependent on British or Allied designs to meet its military needs. However, overlooked in the archives is the story of Charles Loomes, a Defence Stores official whose early 20th-century inventions demonstrated both ingenuity and a deep understanding of local operational conditions.
In 1910, as New Zealand established a modest domestic military manufacturing base—primarily focused on converting local wool into standard British-pattern uniforms—Loomes submitted two proposals to the War Office in London: one for a new entrenching tool and another for an improved infantry equipment system. Both designs were intended to enhance the practicality and comfort of New Zealand soldiers in the field.
Although his ideas were ultimately not adopted, Loomes’s efforts exemplify a quiet but essential tradition of military innovation in New Zealand—one that deserves far greater recognition.
A Life of Service and Practical Insight
Charles Loomes was born in 1857 in Whittlesey, England, and emigrated to New Zealand, where he entered public service. By the early 1900s, he was working with the New Zealand Defence Stores Department in Wellington, a precursor to today’s logistical branches of the NZDF. He was not a military commander or weapons engineer, but rather a public servant embedded in the practicalities of supply and equipment. His proximity to returning troops from the South African War (1899–1902) gave him rare insight into the shortcomings of British military kit in colonial conditions. This combination of technical competence and frontline empathy shaped his two major design proposals.
The Entrenching Tool: A Tool for the Dominion, Not the Empire
At a time when British military orthodoxy remained firmly anchored in European conditions, Charles Loomes’ 1910 entrenching tool design stood out as a locally informed innovation. New Zealand troops had just returned from the South African War, bringing lessons hard learned in the scrublands and semi-arid terrain—lessons not adequately reflected in British-issue tools. The shortcomings of the British entrenching tool were increasingly evident: it was heavy, ill-suited for bush work, and cumbersome in combat conditions that demanded speed, versatility, and improvisation.
Loomes, drawing upon feedback from returning veterans and his knowledge, designed a hybrid tool that merged the capabilities of a spade and a tomahawk. His model featured a shorter shaft for easier handling in confined environments and a reinforced blade capable of cutting through vegetation and lifting compact earth. He noted that the tool was designed to remove intact clumps of soil, making it ideal for quickly constructing makeshift sangars, foxholes, or low parapets. This capacity reflected an understanding of the semi-permanent, fast-moving trench systems standard in irregular warfare and mobile operations environments where New Zealand soldiers often found themselves.[1]
According to the 1910 Defence Council report, New Zealand was reforming its defence organisation in anticipation of Lord Kitchener’s review. This included transitioning to a field force more attuned to national conditions. Loomes’ proposal arrived at a critical moment—just as local military leaders and policymakers were beginning to contemplate how New Zealand’s needs might diverge from Britain’s. The fact that the War Office in London reviewed and formally responded to Loomes’ tool submission, thanking him and returning the sample, underscores the event’s rarity. Colonial submissions were often ignored or lost in bureaucracy; Loomes’ treatment was an outlier.
This modest response, while not leading to adoption, highlights the credibility of the proposal and its alignment with growing imperial awareness of environment-specific military needs. The reality, however, was stark: New Zealand had little indigenous arms production capability at the time, and the cost of tooling up to produce such implements locally was seen as prohibitive. The result was that practicality bowed to imperial standardisation.
Nonetheless, Loomes’ design prefigures later developments. As early as the Second World War, entrenching tools would again be reconceptualised for jungle, bush, and close terrain operations, validating Loomes’ insight.
Reimagining Load Carriage: A Soldier-Centred, Modular System
In December 1910, Loomes followed up with a second design submission: improved infantry and mounted infantry equipment to address the long-standing challenge of balancing soldier load, accessibility, and operational effectiveness. This system is compelling because of its technical design and thought, which were born from operational realities and adapted to New Zealand’s hybrid mounted-infantry character.
Loomes proposed a “heads and tails” ammunition pouch system capable of carrying 200 rounds of rifle ammunition—120 in the front, 80 in the rear. Unlike the British webbing designs of the time, which often created imbalance or restricted movement, Loomes’ design allowed soldiers to access ammunition from either end of each pouch. Rounds could be withdrawn in prone and standing positions without awkward adjustments. Once the front pouches were emptied, reserve pouches could be rotated forward, maintaining weight balance and ensuring the soldier remained combat-effective throughout prolonged engagements.[2]
This solution anticipated later 20th-century load-carrying principles—particularly modularity, distributed weight, and quick-access ammunition positioning. Loomes’ notes also specify that his design intentionally left the chest and upper arms unencumbered. This would have improved ventilation and mobility—vital in warm or uneven terrain—and eased firing in prone positions.
Just as important was the equipment’s versatility. Loomes’ harness could be configured for:
- Light marching order (with minimal ammunition and essentials)
- Full field service (including blanket, water bottle, greatcoat, and rations)
- Mounted use (tailored to New Zealand’s mounted rifle units)
Loomes understood that mounted infantry—New Zealand’s dominant expeditionary force model at the time—required unobtrusive, stable, and balanced carriage. This was vital for the rider’s comfort and maintaining combat readiness while mounted. Unlike the clumsy Slade-Wallace or even early Mills webbing gear, which could interfere with movement on horseback, Loomes’ system was designed with the horse in mind.
His proposal was technically sound, cost-conscious, and straightforward to manufacture using leather or woven webbing. Though not accepted, the offer to supply working samples reflected his confidence in the design’s utility.
The Defence Reports of 1911 and 1912 offer valuable context here. The reorganisation of the New Zealand Military Forces was in full swing: the new Territorial system was replacing the old Volunteer model, a permanent instructional staff was being built, and procurement systems were beginning to prioritise local efficiency.[3] Yet, despite a growing awareness of the need for New Zealand-specific solutions, structural constraints—particularly reliance on British-standardised procurement—remained a barrier. The Quartermaster-General’s 1912 report notes that equipment tenders were focused on uniformity and scale, with mills’ pattern marching-order sets being bulk-ordered from the UK.[4]
In short, while Loomes’ system was conceptually ahead of its time, the institutional apparatus to support its adoption did not yet exist.
Innovation Ahead of Infrastructure
Though neither of Loomes’ designs entered service, their rejection reflected institutional inertia rather than any lack of merit. Britain retained tight control over military equipment standardisation, and New Zealand, then a Dominion with no significant defence manufacturing base, had little ability to produce its designs at scale. Loomes was ahead of his time: his submissions anticipated the kind of adaptations that would only become common decades later.
His submissions challenged the notion that innovation flowed from the metropole to the periphery. Loomes proved that original thought could emerge from within New Zealand’s institutions—even if the machinery to adopt it lagged.
A Precursor to Later Innovations: A Quiet Tradition of New Zealand Military Ingenuity
Charles Loomes was not alone in his efforts to design military equipment better suited to New Zealand’s conditions and constraints. While his 1910 submissions may be among the earliest formal proposals from within New Zealand’s defence establishment, they were by no means the last. His spirit of pragmatic, ground-up innovation reappeared throughout the 20th century in a series of unique, often overlooked, and sometimes extraordinary developments—each born of necessity, local ingenuity, and limited resources.
Among the most celebrated examples of New Zealand military innovation was the Roberts Travelling Kitchen, developed on the eve of the First World War by Captain W.G. Roberts of the New Zealand Army Service Corps. Designed in direct response to the challenges of feeding troops in dispersed, mobile operations, the Roberts Kitchen was a self-contained, horse-drawn field kitchen capable of preparing hot meals under austere and constantly shifting field conditions. Constructed with a robust metal chassis and mounted stoves, it could boil water, cook stews, or heat rations while on the move or in static positions without requiring a fixed base of operations. Its compact and modular layout allowed it to be easily deployed by small support teams, providing a dependable solution at a time when maintaining nutrition and morale was often as critical to battlefield effectiveness as ammunition and arms.
What set the Roberts Kitchen apart was not just its portability, but its simplicity, durability, and adaptability—qualities that earned it significant praise both within New Zealand and abroad. It was exported to Australia and trialled by the Australian Army, where it was quickly recognised for its practicality and efficiency. In theatres where standard British Army cookhouses were too bulky or unsuitable for forward areas, the Roberts Kitchen filled a critical gap. It supported mobile columns and supply echelons across difficult terrain and under variable weather, making it ideal for forces operating far from fixed infrastructure. Though mechanised and industrially mass-produced wartime kitchens would later overshadow it, the Roberts Travelling Kitchen stands as a pioneering achievement that anticipated modern mobile field catering and embodied the soldier-centred ethos of New Zealand’s approach to military logistics.[5]
Then came the New Zealand Battle Ration, one of the most straightforward and most successful examples of locally designed and manufactured military innovation explicitly tailored to the needs of New Zealand troops. Developed during the Second World War, the Battle Ration emerged in response to a growing awareness that the ration packs issued by Britain and the United States were ill-suited to the operational conditions of the Pacific theatre, where New Zealand soldiers were increasingly deployed.
New Zealand forces faced extreme humidity, dense jungle environments, and logistical constraints during campaigns in the Solomon Islands, New Caledonia, and other island chains. Standard British rations—often based on tinned meats, hard biscuits, and fatty components—were prone to spoilage, hard to digest in hot climates, and culturally misaligned with New Zealanders’ eating habits. Similarly, early U.S. C-Rations were heavy and included items with unfamiliar or unpalatable flavours. Soldiers frequently discarded parts of these rations, resulting in unnecessary waste and reduced nutritional intake.
In contrast, the New Zealand Battle Ration was designed from the ground up with science, environment, and soldier morale in mind. Drawing on nutritional research and advice from local food technologists and military dieticians, the ration incorporated lightweight, dehydrated components that could be quickly reconstituted with water. This made the ration more portable and shelf-stable and reduced the bulk of what troops had to carry on long patrols or amphibious movements.
Typical components included:
- Compressed or dehydrated vegetables, often in powder or cube form;
- High-calorie items such as chocolate, sweetened condensed milk powder, and dried fruit;
- New Zealand-produced biscuits formulated to remain edible in heat and humidity;
- Beef extract or bouillon tablets, providing both flavour and salts for hydration;
- Tea and sugar, consistent with New Zealand soldiers’ dietary and morale preferences.
The result was a compact, nutritionally complete, and culturally familiar ration pack that troops could rely on. Its ease of carriage and reduced spoilage rates made it ideal for small-unit operations, reconnaissance patrols, and units cut off from resupply in remote jungle areas.
The Battle Ration was also locally produced, reducing dependency on vulnerable international supply chains. New Zealand manufacturers, working with the Defence Department and scientific institutions, were able to source, process, and package the components within the country. This had the dual benefit of supporting the national economy during wartime and ensuring higher quality control for frontline provisioning.
The Battle Rations’ success did not go unnoticed. It earned positive recognition from allied observers, particularly American nutritionists and quartermasters who saw in it a viable model for regional adaptation. In some cases, its components were studied as part of broader Allied efforts to improve ration systems in the Pacific, and small-scale adoption of similar food technologies followed.
More than a stopgap solution, the New Zealand Battle Ration represented a fully integrated, homegrown logistical system that placed the soldier’s lived experience at the centre of its design. It remains a landmark example of how a small nation, facing unique environmental and operational challenges, could outpace its larger allies in terms of applied military food science and practical innovation.[6]
But New Zealand’s ingenuity extended beyond food and field comforts.
In 1941, as global supply chains strained and frontline weapons were scarce, Philip Charlton devised the Charlton Automatic Rifle—a fully automatic conversion of obsolete bolt-action Lee–Metford and Lee–Enfield rifles. Intended as a stopgap substitute for the unavailable Bren and Lewis light machine guns, the Charlton was produced primarily for the New Zealand Home Guard. Its rugged construction, semi-automatic default operation, forward pistol grip and bipod (in the New Zealand model) made it an effective emergency solution.[7] Around 1,500 were produced, though tragically, most were destroyed in a postwar fire at the Palmerston North Ordnance Depot. Today, surviving examples are exceedingly rare, but they remain a testament to New Zealand’s wartime adaptation in the face of global resource shortages.
Less successful, but no less revealing, was the Mitchell Machine Carbine, a prototype submachine gun developed by New Zealander Allen Mitchell and submitted for testing in Britain in 1943. Though ultimately rejected due to faults in the trigger mechanism, stock, and excessive barrel heating, the weapon represented an attempt to produce a cost-effective domestic submachine gun using local materials and simple blowback operation. A second, improved prototype was submitted in 1944 but was again declined. Only four Mitchell SMGs were ever built; all remain in New Zealand collections. Despite its flaws, the project underscored the determination to establish a sovereign capacity for weapons development, however limited.[8]
Perhaps the most striking and tragic example of New Zealand’s wartime ingenuity is the story of Colonel John Owen Kelsey and the Kelsey Swivel-Stock Rifle. Drawing from his extensive service as an ordnance and engineering officer during the Second World War, Kelsey developed a novel modification of the Sten submachine gun in the early 1950s. Rather than attempting a curved barrel like the German Krummlauf, Kelsey’s design allowed the weapon to be fired around corners via a swivel-stock and periscopic sight, enabling an operator to shoot while remaining in cover. The concept was tested successfully at Waiouru and forwarded to the War Office in London.[9]
Kelsey believed the design could be adapted to other weapons and took out international patents. However, he received no further response, and amid growing personal hardship, he died by suicide in 1954.[10] Though the design never progressed beyond a prototype, it serves as a sobering reminder of the often-overlooked costs of service and the post-war fate of veterans whose talents went underutilised.
Perhaps the most unusual case in New Zealand’s military innovation archive is that of Victor Penny, an Auckland bus mechanic and amateur radio enthusiast who, in the years before the Second World War, persuaded defence authorities that he could build a “death ray” capable of disabling enemy vehicles, aircraft, and electronics. Penny’s device, reportedly a directed electromagnetic energy weapon, earned him state support and near-total secrecy. He was relocated to Somes Island in Wellington Harbour—used during the war as an internment and quarantine facility—where a laboratory was constructed solely for his use. Though the project yielded no proven battlefield capability, it remains an intriguing episode in the country’s history of experimental defence projects and an indicator of how seriously New Zealand’s government once considered homegrown science and technology, even of the most speculative kind.[11]
An Innovation Ethos Born of Need
What binds together the remarkable and diverse stories of Charles Loomes’ entrenching tool and load-carrying equipment, the Roberts Travelling Kitchen, the New Zealand Battle Ration, the Charlton automatic rifle, the Mitchell submachine gun, Victor Penny’s speculative “death ray,” and Colonel Kelsey’s swivel-stock rifle is not institutional power, budgetary scale, or industrial might. Instead, they emerged from a humbler yet uniquely resilient source: necessity—the mother of invention in a small, geographically isolated nation.
These were not the products of a formal military-industrial complex. They came from soldiers, field engineers, ordnance officers, public servants, hobbyists, and workshop innovators. Each worked from within or alongside New Zealand’s military system, often without formal research backing, institutional commissions, or manufacturing infrastructure. They responded to pressing operational needs, adapting or reinventing equipment that didn’t suit the environment or realities faced by New Zealand troops—whether in the South African veldt, the Italian alleys of WWII, the Pacific or the cold training grounds of Waiouru.
Despite the quality and relevance of these designs, many were either dismissed by imperial authorities or faded from memory in the post-war era, overshadowed by the need to adhere to British and later American standardisation. Yet many were contextually brilliant. The Roberts Kitchen and Battle Ration were internationally recognised. The Charlton rifle filled a vital gap in local defence. Kelsey’s adapted Sten gun may not have been adopted, but it represented forward-thinking soldier survivability in urban combat. Even Victor Penny’s electromagnetic weapon, though more speculative, illustrates the willingness of New Zealand’s authorities to explore radical ideas when the stakes were high.
Together, these stories reflect a recurring national pattern: when strategic isolation, global conflict, or supply chain fragility forced New Zealand to look inward, the country proved more than capable of producing its answers. Innovation in New Zealand has historically been less about prestige and more about practicality—a can-do, field-driven ingenuity that quietly delivered effective solutions under adverse conditions.
Charles Loomes, then, should not be seen as a lone innovator ahead of his time, but rather as the first in a long and under-recognised lineage. This lineage stretches from the trenches of South Africa and Gallipoli, through the fields of Italy, and into workshops, depots, and paddocks across the country. These innovators turned limitations into opportunities and ensured New Zealand could solve its military problems independently despite its small population and modest resources.
The legacy of this ethos remains deeply relevant today. New Zealand’s past offers historical insight and a blueprint for future resilience as the global security environment becomes more uncertain and supply chains more contested.
Notes
[1] From: Charles Loomes, Defence Stores Date: 1 August 1910 Subject: Entrenching tool invented by himself, asks that it be forwarded to Imperial, Archives New Zealand Item ID R24759083, (Wellington: New Zealand Archives, 1910).
[2] Charles Loomes, Wellington Date: 24 December 1910 Subject: Improved Equipment for use of Infantry and Mounted Infantry, Archives New Zealand Item ID R24759941, (Wellington: New Zealand Archives, 1910).
[3] “H-19 Defence Forces of New Zealand: Report of the General Officer Commanding the Forces for the period from 7th December 1910 to 27th July 1911,” Appendix to the Journals of the House of Representatives (1 January 1911), https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/parliamentary/AJHR1911-I.2.4.2.30.
[4] “Defence Forces of New Zealand: Report of the General Officer Commanding the Forces for the period 28 July 1911 to 27th June 1912,” Appendix to the Journals of the House of Representatives, 1912 Session II, H-19 (27 June 1912), https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/parliamentary/AJHR1912-II.2.4.2.37.
[5] “Cookers – Field- Roberts travelling,” Archives New Zealand Item No R22432833 (1915).
[6] “DSIR [Department of Scientific and Industrial Research] World War 2 Narratives. No. 10. Dehydrated Foods and Ration Packs. Copy No. 1,” Archives New Zealand Item No R1768268 (1948).
[7] M.E. Haskew, Rifles and Muskets: From 1450 to the present day (Amber Books Limited, 2017). https://books.google.co.nz/books?id=ZFoqDwAAQBAJ.
[8] J.D. Glover, The Mitchell sub-machine gun 1941-1944: a history (Lithographic Services, 1992).
[9] “Firing around corners,” Press, Volume LXXXIX, Issue 27083, 4 July 1953, https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/CHP19530704.2.122.
[10] “Death of Gun Inventor,” Press, Volume XC, Issue 27321,, 10 April 1954, https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/CHP19540410.2.122.
[11] D. Downs and J. Bridges, No. 8 Re-wired: 202 New Zealand Inventions That Changed the World: 202 New Zealand Inventions That Changed the World (Penguin Random House New Zealand, 2014).
