CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The word spread like wildfire around the internment camp at Hay. Rumors among the inmates of what was really happening within Australia and the fortunes of the combatants just beyond her shores were always rife and often optimistic. But none had ever been as optimistic as the persistent rumor that within days everyone, except the six prisoners of war thought to be Japanese pilots, were to be released and sent home. For the first time since his incarceration, Koko saw a glimmer of hope. If the rumor was true, and if the authorities didn’t treat him as a prisoner of war, he might soon be going home to the Top End.
But the joy of the Australian-born and the long-term Japanese residents in Australia was dashed when an official announcement advised that only a small, select group of internees were to be released and that they were to be sent to Japan. They included high-ranking businessmen, bankers and a few academics and minor government officials who had been working in or visiting Australia at the time of the attack on Pearl Harbor. One of the guards at the camp told Koko that the release was probably made on an exchange basis for a like number of Australian nationals detained in Japan.
Koko noticed that the internees returning to Japan expressed their appreciation to the Emperor’s young fighting men by giving the six young prisoners of war anything of value they possessed before leaving the camp. Yak Moto's group was given gold watches, expensive clothing and personal items including vouchers used for small internal purchases at the camp. The young flyers gladly accepted everything, but firmly declined offers by the returning internees to deliver personal messages to their families at home, saying they preferred their loved ones to believe they had died bravely by the code of the samurai rather than having suffered the shame and humiliation of being taken prisoner by the enemy. Although Koko was considered a POW by the camp authorities, he was glad he was offered no gifts by the departing Japanese and that no overtures of any kind were made to him.
A few days after the release of the privileged internees, a new rumor began to circulate around the camp. In the near future, so the scuttlebutt went, the prisoners of war at Hay were to be transferred to a high-security prison camp at a place called Cora about two hundred miles to the north-east.
*
The American engineer battalion to which Dan had been seconded, worked around the clock at Milne Bay protected by a large force of Australian Militia encamped around the perimeters of the three airstrips. The troops and the engineers’ heavy equipment had been transported to the remote jungle location by sea through the treacherous reef-strewn waters of the Louisa Archipelago. Having experienced little harassment by the enemy since their arrival, senior Allied officers were hopeful the critical defensive operation would be completed before the Japanese launched a large-scale attack.
No such absence of enemy hostilities was enjoyed by the raw young soldiers of the 39th Battalion of the Australian Militia to the north-west on the Kokoda Track. Outgunned and vastly outnumbered, the diggers were desperately trying to hold the line against elite, battle-hardened Japanese units, but were being driven back inch by inch towards Port Moresby. Dan heard reports of the grim struggle from Allied pilots who, after flying sorties against the enemy from Port Moresby, had landed at Milne Bay because the 7 Mile Dome in Port Moresby was under attack when they returned home. Almost everything Dan heard was bad.
‘The invasion force at Buna has been estimated at five or six thousand soldiers,’ one pilot said. ‘And besides pressing native carriers into service, the Japs brought about two thousand pack horses ashore to transport supplies down the Kokoda Track. They’ve already advanced to the foothills of the Owen Stanley Range. They’re led by an officer thought to be a Major-General Horii. It’s like something from the dark ages. Horii’s leading his forces down the Kokoda Track sitting astride a big white charger and, according to the Aussie coast watchers, his troops are killing all the European missionaries in their path. The only good news is the situation is so serious that the 7th Division of the AIF is being sent over here.’
A few days later another pilot said the Japanese had taken the village of Kokoda and its strategic airstrip, about half way between Gonad and Port Moresby. He said the Australian Militia had been forced back down the Kokoda Track to a place called Deniker, with Papuan natives carrying their wounded on stretchers. At Deniker, they had held on until they were reinforced by more Militia accompanied by native carriers who had struggled over the worst parts of the Kokoda Track with food and ammunition dropped by USAIR Dakotas, into clearings made in the jungle along the way. But, after fierce fighting, the pilot said the Australians had been forced back yet again to a village called Ostrava, near the summit of the Owen Stanley Range where they were dug-in awaiting the arrival of the AIF.
*
In mid-August a troopship arrived in Milne Bay with AIF reinforcements. Dan watched the veteran diggers come ashore. They were easily distinguishable from the Militia soldiers. The men of the 7th Division wore the same tunics and helmets they had worn overseas, camouflaged for the scorching sands of the middle-east, not the dank, humid jungles of New Guinea. Their uniforms and the webbing in their helmets were bleached white by long service under the Syrian sun.
A few days later, an RAAF Hudson, its fuselage riddled with bullet-holes, made an emergency landing at Milne Bay. The crew of the old transport told of their narrow escape when returning to the 7 Mile Dome at Port Moresby from a reconnaissance flight. They found the airfield under attack by Japanese bombers and Zeros. The raiders had the good fortune to catch two USAIR squadrons standing wing-tip to wing-tip on the ground. Several B.17's were destroyed along with many Dakota ‘biscuit bombers’ which were fully loaded with supplies bound for Australian troops on the Kokoda Track.
Just over a week later, Milne Bay was put to the test as the airstrips were nearing completion. One stormy morning, Dan was pulled from his bunk before dawn and told the Japanese had landed during the night on the north side of the bay. Every available aircraft was being scrambled in the pouring rain to attack the enemy before he established a beachhead.
The size of the invasion force became horrifyingly clear when Dan took off, flying with one of the RAAF Kitty hawk squadrons. As the pilots skimmed over the tree tops at the edge of the airstrip, they saw the bay was alive with Japanese transports and landing barges, disgorging troops and supplies onto the beach. At once the P-40s began raking the invaders with machine gun and canon fire, sinking many of the landing craft and inflicting horrendous casualties. The air attacks continued all day with the Kittyhawks never out of the sky for longer than it took to refuel and rearm. Some planes concentrated on destroying barges and the fuel and ammunition dumps the enemy had managed to established on the beach, while others screamed over the jungle at tree-top height, strafing Japanese soldiers closing in on the airstrips.
For the next two days the RAAF controlled the air above Milne Bay but the situation on the ground became serious. The rain just wouldn’t let up and the Allied forces, even though bolstered by AIF troops, fought desperately to hold the airfields. Not only were the enemy being reinforced by night, but light tanks were also being landed, a tactic thought to be impossible because of the soggy jungle terrain. Under heavy shelling and with no protective armour, one AIF battalion was forced to withdraw. But by the fourth day the rain had immobilized the tanks and the Australians repeatedly repulsed enemy attacks on their positions around the airstrips. They began beating the Japanese back into the sea and after three more days of heavy fighting the Emperor’s ground forces had suffered their first real defeat of the war.
Two days after the Battle for Milne Bay, Dan was told to report to the CO of the engineer battalion. The CO told him that because of the situation in New Guinea, he would not be returning to Iron Range but was to proceed to the 7 Mile Drome at Port Moresby which was under almost constant enemy attack. He also told Dan that the Japanese had mounted a huge offensive at Isurava on the Kokoda Track the same day as they launched their attack at Milne Bay. The hopelessly outnumbered Australian troops, including AIF reinforcements, were again retreating southward towards Port Moresby. The word from RAAF and US Army Air Force in Port Moresby was that they needed all the help they could get.
*
The troop train carrying the Nackeroos to Mount Isa, took five days. Mount Isa was the end of the railway line and it was also at the end of anything that vaguely resembled a road. But it was the jumping off point for the vast Northern Territory where tens of thousands of Allied troops were being transported to bolster Australia’s northern defenses. When the train arrived at the remote mining town, the Nackeroos were amazed to find it bursting at the seams with thousands of black GIs.
From the railway station the Nackeroos were taken to the Mount Isa racetrack to spend the night. They were driven there by soldiers of an American transport battalion which had all but taken over the town. After enduring the long train ride from Brisbane with the barest of facilities, everyone was looking forward to having their first showers and proper meal in almost a week. But when they arrived at the racetrack they found it was just a huge dust bowl used for the marshalling of convoys heading north. In the area set aside for the Nackeroos there were no showers, no latrines, not even any tents and the whole area was alive with flies and other insects.
Faced with the prospect of spending the night on ground sheets in the dust but having permission to go into town, almost all the Nackeroos went looking for the nearest hotel to drown their sorrows in cold beer. They were disappointed when they found the pubs were full to overflowing with rowdy American servicemen and it was impossible to get near enough to the bar to get served. Just outside the doors of each establishment, black American MPs stood with their fingers on their batons ready to administer swift justice to anyone who became troublesome.
Joe and a small group of Nackeroos had given up trying to get a drink and were drifting back to the racetrack when Weasel decided to make one more attempt at getting a beer. He stepped past two burly MPs standing outside a bar and tried several times to squeeze through the crowd. Each time he was elbowed back, sometimes none too gently, by soldiers who all stood head and shoulders above him. The Weasel’s plight came to the attention of the two MPs who stood watching him, grinning from ear to ear. After a few moments one of the MPs walked up behind him.
‘What in Sam Hill are you trying to do here, soldier?’ the MP growled.
Weasel spun around. The top of his head was only a few inches higher than the MP’s thick white belt. But Weasel’s face showed no fear. ‘If it’s all right with you, mate,’ he bellowed angrily. ‘I’d just like an Aussie soldier to be able to get some bloody service in his own country,’
Joe winced as he awaited the Weasel’s fate. But he was surprised when the MPs stern face suddenly broke into a wide grin and he turned to the crowd, shouting: ‘All right you dog-faces, let this fighting man through to the bar, otherwise I’m gonna have to let him take each of you apart.’
The sea of soldiers parted, immediately opening up a path leading to the bar. A minute later, face beaming, Weasel walked back carrying a full tray of beer. The Nackeroos eagerly reached for the brew. Weasel raised a foaming glass high in the air in salute to the MPs. ‘Like I’ve always said,’ he proclaimed loudly, ‘all Yank MPs are bloody gentlemen.’
*
Just after dawn the next morning, a convoy of thirty-six US Army trucks carrying the Nackeroos left Mount Isa for Larrimah. Each truck had two Negro drivers who were to alternate at the wheel as the convoy drove non-stop for the next twelve hours. During the twelve tortuous hours, the big dual-axle transports didn’t pull up for anything, neither for meals nor even to let the Nackeroos relieve themselves. With no road in existence westward from Mount Isa to the dirt road running southward from Darwin to Alice Springs hundreds of miles away, the convoy bounced along in blinding, choking dust over rough tracks only recently bulldozed through the bush by a US engineer battalion.
It took four days to reach Larrimah. The emptiness of the vast Northern Territory was familiar country to Joe. He was coming home. But for many of the Nackeroos the journey was a sobering experience. Most of them were seeing the harsh, desolate face of northern Australia for the first time, a strange land few of their forebears had ever ventured into during nearly two hundred years of white settlement. As the convoy passed through undulating hills, rolling grasslands, endless plains and parched scrub, without seeing a living soul except a few wandering Aborigines, Joe could see from the faces of the Nackeroos that the landscape was as alien to them as it was to their American drivers.
The Nackeroos travelled the remaining hundred miles from the railhead at Larrimah to their headquarters in Katherine by rail in open stock wagons. The camp was located on a pleasant site on the bank of the Katherine River and for the first time since leaving Brisbane, everyone got proper showers and regular meals. A few days after Joe’s contingent reached Katherine, the balance of the force arrived from Ingleburn and senior officers began organizing the men into various companies.
The force was broken down into four companies. Each company was made up of a hundred and thirty-five men. A, B and C Companies would be on active scouting duties in small groups of four to six men each. Some would be in fixed positions in coastal observation posts, others would patrol coastal areas on horseback and still others would be aboard small vessels plying the coast. All units would be linked, by an existing pedal radio system, to townships, outback stations, coast watchers and missions throughout the Top End.
The fourth Company, D Company, was to be a reserve company based at headquarters in Katherine and kept as reinforcements for the active companies in the event they suffered casualties in engagements with the Japanese landing forces. The CO told the Nackeroos that the company based at Katherine would operate on a rotation system with the other companies to ensure the more arduous field work was shared equitably.
Joe and Weasel were assigned to the same platoon in A Company. It was being posted to southern Arnhem Land which included much of the eastern and southern coasts of the Gulf of Carpentaria and also the Roper River, which, with its one hundred and sixty miles of navigable waters leading deep into the Northern Territory, was considered to be a prime route for a Japanese invasion force. The day the Company left by convoy for its regional headquarters in Roper Bar, the men were issued with standard equipment. Most of the items were regular soldier’s gear relating to weaponry but there were some interesting additions, including telescopes, semaphore flags, protective mosquito hats, veils and gloves, axes, even fishing rods and shotguns to assist them in living off the land.
Almost three hundred horses had been sent on ahead to Roper Bar ready for use in mounted patrols. Officers had estimated that each patrol of four to six men would require two dozen horses to carry the patrol’s supplies of food and ammunition, and also their radio equipment, batteries, and generators. Several platoons were assigned Aboriginal trackers, recruited in Arnhem Land. After the weeks and months of training and preparation, Joe was glad when Company A finally left for Roper Bar.
*
Of the thousands of Australian civilians employed by the United States Government throughout Queensland only a very few worked in clerical positions at General MacArthur’s headquarters in Brisbane. But to Faith, the large office block on the corner of Edward Street and Queen Street seemed the logical place to apply for a position. After stating her business to a receptionist she was directed to a personnel office on the ground floor.
‘People seeking employment with the United States Government are generally required to be sent to us by the Manpower, Miss Brodie,’ a staff-sergeant in personnel said. ‘They supply our various departments around the state with clerical and support staff and select the managers, cooks, waitresses and cleaners we require for our post exchanges and just about everyone else who is needed for anything. I’m sorry, but that’s the procedure we are required to follow, unless of course you hold a work release from a previous Manpower-approved employer.’
Faith took her release form from her bag and the sergeant ran his eyes over it then invited her to sit down. She then handed him some documents and references relating to her employment with the Government of the Northern Territory at the Darwin court house and waited while the sergeant read each one carefully.
‘You seem to have the all qualifications required by several departments here at HQ, Miss Brodie,’ the sergeant said at last. ‘Would you wait here, please?’ He left the room with Faith’s documents in his hand. After a short time he returned. ‘We would be pleased to have you join our staff here, Miss Brodie.’ The sergeant sat back down at his desk. ‘Just let me explain our standard terms of employment and if you are in agreement we would like you to start as soon as possible. Now, we offer all employees a one year contract at rates of pay generally higher than current Australian salaries. All employees receive free medical attention, two to three weeks annual leave and access to most American recreational and social facilities. You will however, be required to work a forty-four hour week, forego many public holidays you presently enjoy and there is no overtime pay.’ The sergeant smiled apologetically. ‘And I’m afraid there’s plenty of overtime around here.’
‘When would you like me to start? ‘Faith asked without hesitation.
‘Tomorrow morning, at eight-thirty?’
‘Thank you, Sergeant, I’ll be here.’
‘Very well, Miss Brodie. When you arrive please report to Major Lyle Hunter on the third floor.’