by Alan Tucker
Later
I’m tired and not thinking straight but my brain’s functioning well enough to know we’ve been let down. We all assumed we’d fall back to Kokoda where well supplied reinforcements would relieve us. There was no support (men or supplies) at Kokoda so we’ve had to fall back to Deniki. We’re still in the frontline and must continue the fighting withdrawal. How much longer can the lads stand the strain? We’re exhausted, cold, wet and emotionally drained. The bloody rain never stops and the bloody Japs just keep coming and no bloody supplies or reinforcements arrive. One of my mates estimated that the 8-day trek we’d undertaken, up and over the mountains to Kokoda, could be flown by a supply plane in less than thirty minutes. The situation is disgraceful. What on earth are the big Brass in Moresby and Australia doing? Sitting on their backsides twiddling their thumbs while we’re terrorised night after night, shot one by one or bayoneted in the guts. Life here is sheer bloody murder. The Japs bombard us with a seemingly endless supply of mortar shells. Our lot weren’t issued with mortars. Why? Because our fearless bloody leaders believed they’d be ineffective under the thick canopy of trees. The bodies of our many mates who we’ve buried in pieces, prove that theory wrong.
Deniki, Tuesday, 28 July 1942
I’ve had almost no sleep for a week or more. There is some good news though: our missing men have turned up safe and sound after slogging their way through the jungle. The number of fit men lessens day by day so even these weary men will make a difference in our defence of this position. The best news is that a doctor has arrived. From what I can gather, he walked here unescorted all the way from Port Morseby. His name is Doc Vernon and it’s obvious he’s a bit of a character. He doesn’t wear correct uniform and he looks well above the enlistment age but he’s as fit as a fiddle. Despite our atrocious living conditions, the men’s filthy wounds and the close proximity of the Japs, he has ploughed into his work without complaint. Many of the men urgently need medical attention. The Doc can’t do it all himself. The native porters, who the lads have nick-named Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels, act as stretcher bearers. I can hardly carry myself and my equipment up and down the Track but they carry badly wounded men on makeshift stretchers. We all need a bit of first aid but those of us who can still stand stay in the frontline. Mentally and physically exhausted as we are, there’s a fight to be had. I get some consolation in the thought that the Japs must also be feeling as bad as us—unless their frontline men are being rotated with reinforcements. I cannot allow myself to think of that possibility or I’ll give up the ghost. A patrol returned early this morning and reported that Kokoda village, even though abandoned by our lot, has not yet been occupied by the Japanese. Lieutenant Colonel Owen, who became our commander while my platoon were staging the fighting withdrawal down the Track, has ordered our freshest men (not my lot, thank goodness) to return to the village. He realises, as those of us who have been here since the start realise, that Kokoda is the key to our survival. If we hold the village, and in particular the airstrip, then Morseby can resupply and reinforce us. If the strip falls into Jap hands, they can use it in the same way which would be a big nail in our coffin.
Deniki, Wednesday, 29 July 1942
Eighty of our boys walked into Kokoda unopposed and dug in defensively. They did their best to hold the village but the Japs, who greatly outnumbered them, bombarded them with a barrage of mortar shells and front-on assaults. In the short time the village and airstrip were in our hands, a US supply plane flew overhead and circled once but did not land. Missed opportunities like that are bad for morale. When the order to withdraw was given, a small group of our lads failed to receive the message. Before they realised what was going on, they were cut off from our lines and surrounded by Japs. They fought their way out.
Later
Scouts report that the Japs are not advancing. They’re digging in and building defensive structures around Kokoda. That’ll make it more difficult for us, if reinforcements ever do arrive, to retake it from them. The good news is that while they’re digging in, those of us most exhausted have a small opportunity to rest and recuperate. On a sad note, parade was held and the roll called. Many men, including Lieutenant Colonel Owen, were not there to respond to their name. Our numbers diminish daily and those of us who continue to fight are far from fighting fit.
Sunday, 2 August
There have been more bombing raids on the Queensland coast. We in Townsville came under attack again as did Mossman, which is 250 miles further north. Strangely, only one plane was used in each raid. Cousin Stanley believes the Jap’s resources must be stretched to the limit if one plane is all they can muster for a raid. Very little damage was done and the only casualty suffered minor injuries. Unlike the first raid, US planes got airborne and went to our defence. By the time they did so, however, the enemy had escaped. Uncle Jim says that’s not good enough.
A man died on the Garbutt airstrip two days ago when a training flight went wrong.
‘I’m surprised there haven’t been more deaths,’ Auntie Dorothy said. ‘At the hospital we hear regular reports of RAAF and US planes crash landing.’
‘The accidents are a result of increased daily air activity in this sector,’ Cousin Stanley replied. ‘It is my opinion that the tide of war is about to change. US authorities are stockpiling massive quantities of men and supplies. Hopefully they will unleash them sooner rather than later.’
‘Meanwhile, my son and hundreds of other mothers’ sons, are fighting a lone hand in some god-forbidden mountain jungle,’ Mum snapped. ‘Why on earth doesn’t General MacArthur send reinforcements to New Guinea immediately? Harold’s lot have been back on Australian soil for three and a half months. They’re champing on the bit. What’s he waiting for?’
‘MacArthur has made one decision,’ Shirley added. ‘He’s officially moved his headquarters from Melbourne to Brisbane. The feeling around Garbutt is that he wouldn’t be moving closer to the action unless he knew it was safe to do so.’
Mum wrote to Des during the week.
Wednesday, 29 July 1942
Dear Des,
If you receive this short letter, I hope it finds you well. Please write back and say it’s so. Life is very good here. What I need to make it perfect is your safe return. Cousin Stanley is confident the war is slowly turning against the Japanese. He seems to know what he’s talking about. He follows the situation very closely. I hope he’s right.
Harold’s division is still stationed in Australia. You can imagine how frustrated he’s become. He’s keen for action. I’m in two minds. One part of me wants him to stay safely here at home, the other wants him and his mates sent north to repel the Japs and support you young militiamen. War creates such awful dilemmas. I don’t want to lose either of you, like I lost your dad, to another senseless war.
I am delighted to read that your friend Bert is such a strength. I’m sure that if you stand by each other in adversity, you’ll both come home safely.
Love, mother and Archie
Slim and I walked past Garbutt yesterday afternoon hoping to see the crashed plane. We were in luck. It had been dragged to the side of the airstrip after the accident. As we looked at it a large truck with lifting equipment pulled up. A work crew attached chains to the wreckage and swung it onto the back of a long-load vehicle. As soon as both vehicles left the scene we hopped the fence and sifted the ground hunting for souvenirs. Slim was lucky – he found an airman’s woollen glove.
‘This was probably worn by the dead pilot’, he said excitedly. He examined it closely. ‘Look. That’s a blood stain.’
Deniki, Wednesday, 5 August 1942
We’ve licked our wounds and are preparing for the next assault. The Japs probe our perimeter defences more vigorously each day. They’ve obviously finished building their defensive structures at Kokoda and are ready to push on down the Track. Despite hunger, cold, heat, torrential rain, mud, and rotting clothes and boots, we’re ready for them.
Deniki, Friday, 7 August 19
42
I felt my hackles rise yesterday when Major Cameron, who has replaced Lieutenant Colonel Owen, had a go at some of our lads who he claims ‘fled’ before the enemy. If they’re guilty as charged then so are all of us. We’ve been under orders from Day One to stage a fighting withdrawal. That often involves moving back in a hurry or risk being surrounded and killed. It’s too bloody easy for a new commander to arrive here without knowing how this war’s being fought and criticise us for what we’re doing or not doing. I know one thing for sure—we’re doing our best with what little we’ve got. And those lads accused of ‘fleeing’, did no such thing. To a man, they’re as solid as we are.
Later
The new commander’s come up with a ‘new’ idea: we’ve been ordered to retake Kokoda. We’re to carry rations and ammunition for three days. We are not to take ground sheets, blankets or surplus gear. As Bert said sarcastically, ‘We’ve got a few fun-filled days ahead of us.’ To add a degree of adventure to the task, Cameron’s split us into four companies. One will dig in deeper here to keep Deniki secure, one will skirt around Kokoda and set up a position at Pirivi to ambush Jap reinforcements moving forward, the third will attack Kokoda, and the fourth will take control of the nearby airstrip.
Kokoda, Sunday, 9 August 1942
How’s Major Cameron’s bloody luck! We walked in to Kokoda with hardly any opposition. Where were all the Japs who we’ve observed from Deniki during the past week? The Jap commander’s superiors will have his guts for garters unless he dies trying to recapture Kokoda. We can oblige him with a bullet if that’s what he wants. The few Japs guarding the village cleared out when they saw us. That behaviour goes against everything we’ve learned about the Japanese. They’re warriors. They have no word for retreat. They die rather than retreat. We figured we wouldn’t have the village to ourselves for long so we quickly searched the huts. One of the lads made an important discovery—an officer’s notebook and maps. We sent a native runner to Deniki with the confiscated documents then readied ourselves for the inevitable Jap attack. We could hear shots coming from the Pirivi direction and knew it wouldn’t be long before bullets and bayonets targetted us.
Sunday, 9 August
It’s been a disastrous day. The radio news reports that HMAS Canberra has been sunk with the loss of 819 lives and Kokoda has been lost by the Australians. Who knows where Des’s lot are? Somewhere on the mountain track between Kokoda and Port Moresby with the Japs hot on their heels.
Harold couldn’t say too much in his latest letter but it sounds like his division is moving to New Guinea too. Mum’s upset.
August 1942
Thelma and Arch.
We’ve been told to pack and be ready to leave camp at short notice. As well as doing more jungle warfare training we’ve also been sent out in small groups to live off the land. We don’t live like kings but we make do—and at least no-one’s taking shots at us. That will soon change when we make contact with the Japs.
Wish me luck as I steam northward passed Townsville.
Harold
Today’s newspaper said nothing about the 7th Division’s departure overseas.
‘The safety of the troops is paramount,’ Cousin Stanley explained. ‘If any newspaper reported their departure, spies would quickly pass on the information and Japanese submarines and aircraft would immediately be on the lookout for them. Unlike the Americans, Australia does not have an endless supply of men and ships.’
Townsville is packed to the brim with soldiers, air crews and support staff. The airstrips between here and Charters Towers are also choc-a-block with equipment and military personnel. A few of the bomber and fighter crews see occasional action. The others are waiting for the order to move against the Japanese.
Deniki, Tuesday, 11 August 1942
As predicted, the Japs weren’t happy to see we’d set up camp in Kokoda. They tried their usual tactic: officers ordered a handful of men to move openly across our front. They wanted us to open fire so we’d give our positions away. We were a wake-up to them and controlled our trigger fingers. If we hadn’t, bullets and mortars would have crashed into us from every direction. They tried a different tack: they began to scream and chant and make eerie wailing sounds. The high-pitched noise quickly got under our skins but we stayed focused. We knew the noise heralded an attack. We didn’t have to wait long — the Japs charged in swarms, wave after wave. We emptied our guns into them until we became desperately short of ammunition. Falling back to Deniki became the only sensible option when the Japs broke through our lines. In the chaos, the order to withdraw was not conveyed to the lads concealed in the banana plantation. By the time they realized we’d gone, they were surrounded. Luckily for them, the Japs weren’t aware of their presence. They wisely decided not to draw attention to themselves and, by not shooting, they managed to casually stroll through the enemy lines into the safety of the jungle. They admitted they escaped more by good luck than good judgment. During the battle for Kokoda we killed dozens of Japs but we also lost many good men. Our battalion is now down to less than 400 fit men (all ranks). The really good news is that the long-hoped for reinforcements are on their way – and they’re experienced fighters: lads (perhaps Harold’s among them) who served in the Middle East. But if they’re just starting up the Track, they’ll take the best part of a week to get here. I hope we can hang on that long. I’m knackered.
Deniki, Wednesday, 12 August 1942
The Japs didn’t linger in Kokoda this time. I suspect their commanding officer has been given a bayonet up the backside for letting us back into the village unopposed. I wonder if he’s informed his commanding officer about the stolen notes and maps. I bet not. We haven’t been told if there was anything useful in what we found and we never will be—we’re just foot-slogging soldiers. If the Japs knew just how few we are in number, I suspect they’d pull out all stops to overrun us. As much as I’ve grown to hate the jungle, I can see it has its advantages—it hides our true numbers and leaves the enemy guessing. I wonder how many Japs oppose us and how they’re faring. Are they cold, exhausted and hungry like we are? I’m so hungry. I constantly crave food and can hardly think about the Japs. I must not lose focus. My life, and the lives of my mates, depends on me staying alert. We’ve been ordered to Stand To…. The enemy are making no secret of the fact that they’re on their way. From our defensive post I can clearly see them below marching along the main Track, straight towards us. We will not be intimidated. We’re dug in on the high ground and won’t surrender it cheaply. If they want it, which they will because they’re well-drilled, they’ll have to take it from us. And that will come at a considerable cost to both sides. My feet are giving me hell. Weeks of standing in mud has given me foot rot. What I wouldn’t give for clean socks and new boots.
Wednesday, 12 August
‘That must have cost a pretty penny,’ Auntie Dorothy said as she examined the stitching on Mum’s new dress. ‘I heard the dress shop was out of stock. Have they had a delivery?’
‘No,’ Mum answered looking slightly embarrassed. ‘It was bought in Brisbane. It’s a gift.’
‘Oh,’ said Auntie Dorothy raising her eyebrows. She looked at Mum awaiting further explanation.
‘An officer from the air force base gave it to me.’ She held it in front of her and spun around. ‘Do you like it?’
‘It’s beautiful,’ she replied, ‘and it appears to be exactly the right size.’
‘It is.’
‘What a coincidence.’
‘Not really—I gave him my size.’
‘So, he knows your measurements?’ Auntie Dorothy asked cheekily.
‘Of course not,’ Mum replied blushing.
‘Well, go and try it on,’ Auntie Dorothy instructed.
Mum looked beautiful. I’ve never seen her wear such pretty clothes.
‘I’ve met lots of airmen on the base,’ Shirley said, ‘but none of them has ever bought me a dress.’ She noticed Mum’s new stockings. ‘I’d be
happy just to receive some nylon hosiery. Silk would make me even happier,’ she said with a cheeky smile.
I’ve never had new clothes. I’ve always had to wear Harold’s or Des’s hand-me-downs. Since moving here I’ve been given some of Cousin Stanley’s old clothes. At work I wear a hessian apron over my clothes to partially protect them from the ice. We haven’t seen Des in his militia uniform. I bet he looks really handsome.
Deniki, Thursday, 13 August 1942
‘Even your mother couldn’t love that face, Dessie,’ Bert said with a smile. He was no picture of elegance himself. We haven’t had a second to spare to shave or wash for the past week. The Japs have been relentless in their attack and at probing our defences. But they haven’t been able to break through. We’re no slouches, either, when it comes to reconnaissance. Today Bert took advantage of some slack Japanese defensive work. During a pause in the attack on his flank he became aware that a number of Japs were having a lunch break. He crept forward unobserved and hurled a grenade into their dinner party. KAPOW. Their lunch was well and truly over.
Isurava, Saturday, 15 August 1942
The final hours at Deniki were hell. The rain was torrential and a thick tropical fog enveloped us. The Japs attacked early in the morning and broke through in several places. As quickly as we cut one wave down, another attacked. Again, we had to get out in a hurry. We took what we could but, unfortunately, had to leave behind difficult to replace provisions. Many of our lads are unaccounted for. Let’s hope they’ve escaped into the jungle rather than fallen into the hands of the Japs. Several times throughout the past three weeks fellows have had to hide in the jungle and make their way around the enemy’s lines in order to safely return to ours. When they reappear, after having spent several days in the jungle, they look much the worse for wear. But that’s better than being dead or a prisoner, if the Japs take prisoners, which I doubt. We rarely do. We can hardly feed and care for our own lads, let alone provide for extra mouths. Life in the jungle is dog eat dog. We were ordered to fall back to Isurava, a village we passed through on our way forward several weeks ago. I have no memory of it. Everything looks the same up here. If I thought I was tired before, I was wrong. I’m tired now. Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels struggled along with us carrying our wounded. Later, when we stop to fight, they’ll keep walking. Our men would die in the jungle if not for their mighty efforts. We remained on the alert for Japs coming up behind us and were greatly relieved when we passed through a company of our lads who’d set up an ambush. We heard later they gunned down eight of the enemy and held up their advance for several hours. When we arrived here we found others from our battalion already dug in. We started digging too. We knew the procedure: defend a position, fall back, defend another position. It sounds easy but in our current physical state and in conditions such as we find ourselves day after day, fighting back and falling back are difficult to achieve. Just staying awake is difficult, very difficult. Bert and I prod each other throughout the night so we remain vigilant. Our lives depend very much on one another.
