Into the cold: Inside the army’s Waiouru war games

Saturday, 20 June 2026

A light armoured vehicle means business, and the vast majority who take a seat in the back are hardy, weapon-toting soldiers.

The NZ Defence Force LAV looks something like a small tank — without the caterpillar tracks, but with a mid-mounted turret that looks ready to fire something alarming.

From Afghanistan to the vast training grounds at Waiouru Military Camp, the LAV is an army staple.

My main impression upon clambering inside the 10-person vehicle is that it’s a great place to get out of the cold.

No one could describe me as hardy, but one of the perks of journalism is that you sometimes get invited for a sneak peek at other worlds. In this instance, the Waikato Times has come along to watch Exercise Crete, a training mission involving hundreds of soldiers.

Lieutenant Colonel Caleb Berry invites us to shelter from the wind-riven landscape in the back of a LAV while he explains the whys and wherefores of the exercise.

One of the questions I have to know is, just how cold does it get here at Waiouru?

A frosty morning last week brought a temperature of minus five degrees, he tells me, and this apparently does not count wind chill as gusts sweep down the mountain and across the volcanic plateau.

That morning, MetService says the temperature ranged from zero degrees up to a comparatively balmy six degrees, again minus wind chill. It’s cold enough that the patchy rain threatens to become sleet.

The main risks in taking civilians into the training zone are the weather, we’re told. The army is keen to ensure we’re bundled up sufficiently. Hi-vis and earmuffs are also a must. Almost as a side note, we’re also warned to watch out for unexploded ordnance as we head out.

Among the personnel involved in Exercise Crete, invisible unless the viewer is paying close attention, are snipers.

They’re heavily camouflaged among the landscape of brown and beige, lying under a low makeshift shelter, and I don’t notice them until I am maybe three metres away.

I speak to one who told me he had been in position since 3am, observing a target that was about 800 metres away. Like the lieutenant colonel, he seemed in his element in the elements.

“It's warm kit, decent. Just stick on a puffer jacket and away you go,” he tells me.

We walk around a section of the exercise area — behind ‘enemy’ lines — and see a range of soldiers. Some are sheltering in a trench, others stand near a crater from some earlier blast.

A couple of uniform-clad figures lying on the ground aren’t people at all, but dummies representing casualties.

These memento mori remind me of what is potentially at stake for recruits in what could otherwise seem like a giant game of laser tag — a supervisor tells me they track gunshot trajectory with lasers, and everyone wears sensors so they know if they’ve been hit.

When the enemy zone is about to be breached, we’re herded onto a patch of tussock nearby to watch the action unfold. Soldiers swarm out of LAVs and exchange fire with the enemy.

For media, the exercise ends with a bang as, shortly after an explosion rings out, we are whisked back to base.

The one-time sheep station has been an army base since World War II, and although there is an impressive pool and gym also used by the community, many of the buildings are old, weatherboard-clad structures, in a battle with the elements.

It’s not always clear who is winning, although we are told a building maintenance team works full-time at the base.

All the army’s new recruits have to pass basic training at Waiouru, wherever they end up afterwards, and our gregarious guide tells us the barracks have a reputation for being haunted.

However, despite coming prepared with sleeping bags and modest expectations, we were lucky enough to sleep in the officers’ quarters, and no restless spirits appeared to disturb my sleep.

Before we leave, I get the chance to talk to Chief of Army Major General Rose King.

We race through a couple of topics, such as AI — “another toolset” — and whether a tough youth job market means higher interest in joining the military. She doesn’t know, but says boosting numbers is her biggest focus.

Finally, I ask if there are any plans to upgrade Waiouru, and she tells me new funding to improve the base has recently been green-lit.

As we head back to civilisation, I’m looking forward to a cup of tea and some Netflix, but I have a new appreciation of the skill and endurance of soldiers. Armed with my philosophy degree, I could ruminate endlessly about just war theory, but that wouldn’t keep anyone safe in an invasion.