Chapter 6 Timor Treks; Cupid's Canopy

TIMOR TREKS

THE quickening tempo of Allied air blows against the Japanese poised above the head and north-western shoulder of Australia first became obvious in the drag of last year. Almost daily R.A.A.F. raids against his bases, and the vast stores of materials he was piling up for possible future offensives against the lightly protected Australian coastline began to cause him anxiety, for every invasion over his bases destroyed war potential and valuable man and ship-hours.

Having acted in haste, he was being given cause to repent at leisure. He was beginning to sleep uneasily, with one ear alert for the ominous drone which told him of the approach of more Australian Hudsons-Hudsons of No. 2 and No. 13 R.A.A.F. Squadrons.

These are the Hudson squadrons which were cited by the United States War Department for outstanding action against the Japanese. Behind that citation lies the recognition by the well-equipped U.S. air forces of superlative courage and doggedness by a few men, indifferently equipped, to hold back the rolling momentum of the Japanese. At that time the U.S. fliers were working in cooperation with the Hudsons and they were well able to appreciate the long odds which the Australians faced and overcame.

Timor and Moabisse were among the first places to become familiar with the high whining note of the Hudsons-a hostile note which, with ever-increasing frequency, was to reverberate along a wide 25oo-mile arc sweeping as far cast as Rabaul. Dilli, Bobonaro, Manatuto and Bucau squirmed and smoked under the rain of bombs and machine-gun fire the Hudsons loosed.

Month in, month out, these harassing raids continued. The losses caused to the enemy cannot be estimated accurately, but they must have been immense. If the enemy had any idea of descending on the north-western coastline, he abandoned it, and set about making raids on Darwin-probably in reprisal, more likely in an attempt at neutralization. He was met by the fighters based there, and vanquished.

Early in February this year, reconnaissance showed that the enemy was building up threatening strength at Dobo on the Aru Islands, about four hundred and fifty miles north of Darwin. Allied aircraft left Dobo in blackened ruins. There were R.A.A.F. Hudsons in that mission, and they returned at intervals on successive days until February 15, and their bombs helped to wipe out Dobo as an effective enemy base. Nine sorties were made to the Kai Islands and many buildings at Toeal were demolished.

So this strange harassing war went on. Bases near and far were attacked. There was no rest for the Hudson pilots. They flew on reconnaissance, on convoy patrol, or on strikes, and when they met the enemy, in bomber or fighter, they gave him battle. A rough balance sheet compiled for the first sixteen months of the fight in the Northwestern area, showed that the Allies had destroyed 173 Japanese aircraft, had probably destroyed 39, and had damaged 73- Our losses at that time were only slightly more than a score of aircraft.

In May, Allied aircraft operating in this area scored their best bag to that time: Jap losses were 44 aircraft destroyed, 30 probably destroyed, 16 damaged. Twenty-three of them were fighters, 9 were twin engined aircraft, 12 were floatplanes. Of the probably destroyed, 9, and of the damaged, 12, were fighters. The grand total at the end of May was, therefore, 217 destroyed, 49 probably destroyed, and 91 damaged. In addition, 9 Japanese ships had been sunk and 15 damaged. Our aircraft had ranged over 300,000 square miles of territory. Since then, Jap losses have steadily risen.

"These Hudson boys are good," said Wing Commander John M. Whyte, who had been commanding officer of both Hudson squadrons. "They are full of fighting spirit and fly with enthusiasm and daring against the best the Japanese can send against them. Their operational tour involves some hundreds of hours flying, and even a hundred hours is a lot of flying in these latitudes."

Some of the flights involved eight hours over water in land planes. Typical of the crews' experiences were those of five sergeants who flew together for mine months. They carried out 51 sorties and completed 416 operational hours. Their names are: Sergeant S. L. McDonald, of Leeton (N.S.W.), pilot, Sergeant P. A. Mouatt, of Maida Vale (Q.). observer; Sergeant H. A. Roach, of Thirroul (N.S.W.), Sergeant J. Sumner, of Rockhampton (Q.), and Sergeant K. Shilling, of Mount: Hawthorn (W.A.), wireless air gunners. The sergeants flew to many targets in Timor, visited faraway Ambon, knew the Jap bases on the Tanimbars, Kai Islands, Aru Islands and the south coast of New Guinea. They did all kinds of tedious and exciting jobs. . :from ordinary "recco." to attacking a Japanese warship. The sergeants were flying with a formation of Hudsons off Kai Islands when they sighted a Jap cruiser. They peeled in rum and dived straight for her, scoring a direct hit. As they flew off, the cruiser was crippled with her stern awash.

Foul weather usually covers some part of the trips made by the Hudsons in the Northwestern area, and on one occasion off Timor they struck such a front. The Hudson fell like a stone at the rate of fifteen hundred feet a minute. McDonald wrestled with the controls and at eight hundred feet managed to get the ship on an even keel again. They flew on and bombed their target.

Bouts with the elements are, of course, regarded as one of the inseparable accompaniments of duty with the Hudsons, for their stamping-ground is the Timor Sea, notorious for its fickleness and bad temper. Whyte on one occasion was eleven and a quarter hours in the air, for five hours of which he was flying blind. The Hudson had completed a long patrol. Darkness fell as it turned for home, and with darkness came the storm. Rain fell in torrents and lightning was almost continuous. Terrific bumps almost wrenched the controls out of Whyte's hands. For hours he flew back and forth between points he believed to be in the vicinity of two bases. The crew looked to their parachutes, and held themselves in readiness to abandon the Hudson. When the storm ended, and it was possible to pin-point their position, Whyte made a successful landing.

In April last another Hudson crew emerged from the overcast into a clear patch, and saw below them a Japanese patrol ship and twelve barges. Flying-Officer H. S. McDougall, Sergeant J. L. Barnes, Sergeant B. Daley, Sergeant D. Ellis, and Sergeant Rhodes jumped into action -and their second stick of bombs hit the patrol boat and silenced its anti-aircraft guns. One Hudson then made a number of strafing runs over the orphaned barges. Front and rear gunners had a busy time for three quarters of an hour. But busy as they were, they were not nearly so engrossed in the business as were the Japanese troops, who were torn between the indecision of remaining in the barges until explosively ejected, or voluntarily taking to the waters. For many of them, this problem and all others were finally solved by the Hudson gunners.

Flight-Lieutenant J. S. Austin and his crew one day gave battle to a floatplane. On return to base he reported a "probable". Some days later two sorry Japs were taken prisoners. They had been shot down and had managed to reach land - which confirmed Austin's "kill". Before returning to Australia, Austin flew for 270 operational hours with a R.A.F. Hudson squadron in the United Kingdom. He was there credited with having shot down a JU88 and was mentioned in dispatches.

Flying-Officer Ralph James, of Shepparton, twice flew back to base over four hundred and fifty miles of water on one engine. With Flight-Sergeant R. D. Ryan, Sergeant K. G. Keech, Sergeant Reen and Sergeant Reilly, James shot down two Zeros on his first operational flight. The fight lasted an hour, and a third Zero was probably destroyed. He has since been reported missing. Squadron-Leader Keith M. Kemp, of Hampton, took part in the raids which razed Dobo. In these raids, a Jap floatplane was destroyed and another was damaged. Flying-Officer Alfred D. Thomas, of Leederville (W.A.), chased for thirty miles and destroyed a floatplane which attacked a convoy he was protecting; and Flying-Officer R. H. Hornby, of Sutherland (N.S.W.), beat off the attacks of three floatplanes which attempted to shoot up his convoy. After he had caused one of them to

smoke and had turned to attack the others (although his ammunition was exhausted) a R.A.A.F. Beaufighter came on the scene, and drove off the enemy.

These deeds are typical of the work being done by the R.A.A.F. Hudsons operating from Dar-win area. They rank with the best that the air forces of the Allies can boast. The list of decorations won by members of Two and Thirteen Hudson Squadrons is impressive. Here it is:

D.F.C.	Wing-Commander J. P. Ryland, Wing-Commander A. B. McFarlane, Squadron-Leader R. A. Dunne, Squadron-Leader R. Dalkin, Squadron Leader S. Austin, Squadron-Leader K. M. Kemp, Squadron-Leader S. J. Fraser (deceased), Flight-Lieutenant F. K. Morcombe, Flight-Lieutenant W. D. White (missing, believed prisoner of war), Flight-Lieutenant R. H. Overheu, Flight-Lieutenant N. T. Badger, Flying-Officer A. W. Hawksford, Flight-Lieutenant 1. A. McCoombe, Flight-Lieutenant A. J. Sharpe.
D.F.M.	Flying-Officer R. C. Lindsay, (reported missing), Flying-Officer M. L. Franklin, Flying-Officer D. Learmonth, Flying-Officer W. L. Allen, Flying-Officer E. R. Oldfield, Flying Officer A. W. Ducat, Flying-Officer H. Riley, Flight-Sergeant A. Crowe.
O.B.E.	Squadron-Leader E. Cole, Flight Lieutenant B. Rofe.
B.E.M.	Sergeant L. Borgelt

Although it is outside the time limits of this book, the early history of Two and Thirteen Hudson Squadrons demands some space, for it is yet another example of a few doing much for many. Months before Japan's surprise entry into the war, they had taken up battle stations at Koepang in Timor, Laha on -Amboina, and Namlea on the Boeroe Islands. They were controlled from Halong. All these n2mes, once friendly, are now hostile, for these places were evacuated by the Hudson men as the enemy pushed south. With the equipment to their hands, supermen could not have stayed longer.

Six Hudsons of Thirteen, operating from Laha, struck the first blow against the Japanese. Dunne led the formation to far-distant Tobi on the day Japan went to war, and after a successful strike he brought his formation back intact. The Japanese replied with an attack on Laha, where the only fighter protection was given by two Brewster Buffaloes, flown by Dutchmen. Both were shot down, but the pilots baled out to safety. On January 10, 1942, reconnaissance showed thirty-six Jap ships steaming south to Celebes, and from then on Laha became a hot spot. Enemy bombers pasted it almost daily.

Early on January 11, three Hudsons struck at a Jap convoy at Manado. Ryland, Dunne and Flight-Lieutenant Cornfoot, who were the pilots, dived through anti-aircraft fire from sixteen ships and set a 10,000-tonner afire. Cornfoot scored a direct hit on a cruiser. Later that day, four Hudsons from Namlea shot down four Jap floatplane fighters. Next day "all available aircraft" at Namlea (they numbered five) were ordered to re-attack this convoy. The five were met over the target by Zero fighters and only one returned. Two are known to have been shot into the sea. What happened to the others is not known.

The position of the Hudson squadrons in their distant bases was becoming desperate. Their losses in the air were aggravated by losses suffered on the ground in the constant enemy raids, the air crew and the ground staff were dog-tired through their constant patrols and strikes, or ceaseless sweating work to keep the aircraft serviceable. This went on until January 79 when White sighted a twenty-two ship convoy two hundred and fifty miles away and headed for Ambon. On advice from Darwin the evacuation of the Hudson squadrons was begun by three aircraft. McFarlane and other volunteers, among them Squadron-Leader J. Handbury, his second in command, elected to remain behind to carry out demolitions. White landed at Laha to evacuate personnel there, and it is believed that all were taken prisoner. Everything was hustle and bustle at Namlea during the demolition activities, which were expedited by the timely arrival of Japanese bombers.

In due course the three evacuation Hudsons arrived from Darwin in charge of Flight Lieutenant R. Law-Smith, Flight-Lieutenant M. Finlayson and Flying-Officer N. Lamb. They took off twenty-two, twenty-three and sixteen men each. How they ever rose from the water-logged 8oo-yard-long runway, climbed over the hills, and flew to Danvin safely is one of the squadron's mysteries. But as the demolition party watched with bated breath, they swayed drunkenly down the strip, lifted sluggishly, and disappeared into the murk. Eight minutes after the take-off, the second Hudson had laboured up to four hundred feet. Five hours later it landed at Darwin, to find the others already arrived.

Fourteen days later, McFarlane and his party were rescued from a pre-arranged rendezvous. McFarlane related that an hour after the rescue Hudsons had taken off, Japanese bombers and dive bombers arrived, and "did the place over".

On February 18 and 19 our last overseas northern base at Koepang was evacuated by all but a small party who were rescued in April.

The remnants of Two and Thirteen were immediately assigned the task of defending Darwin against enemy air raids. In the first big Jap onslaught against the town on February 19, a few Hudsons were lost on the ground. With what remained, the attack was carried on against enemy bases, and the high whining note of the Hudsons is still heard over the strips and bases from which they first gave defiance to the enemy.

BRIAN LAMBERT heard the leader call "Tallyho", and looked about for bandits as the Spitfires quickly moved into position for attack. He watched one formation peel off and dive towards enemy bombers a few thousand feet below. Then he saw the Zeros. They were slightly higher, but the Spitfires had advantage of the sun behind them, and the Japs' formation was ragged. Climbing steeply he fired into the belly of a Zero as it came into his sights. A tiny tell-tale lick of flame flickered from the fuselage of the fighter as Brian manoeuvre for another attack.

"Look out, Green 2-there's a bandit on your tail."

The cry came over the intercom. as he was about to make a final attack on the victim of his first shots. Suddenly he felt strikes on his own aircraft - saw the marks where bullets hit the engine cowling. Swiftly he rolled over into a steep dive and noticed that his victim was burning fiercely and going down. He dived fifteen thousand feet and looked back. The Zero wasn't following any more.

It was then that Lambert saw the glycol fumes coming into the cockpit. It was time to bale out. Calling up the ground control he said,

"Green 2- glycol leak-baling out." He gave his position, heard the ground operator acknowledge his message and wish him luck, then he pushed back the hood, turned the Spitfire on its back, and fell out.

Tumbling over and over, Lambert experienced a lazy, floating sensation, nothing like the feeling expected when falling a hundred and twenty feet a second. But experts had said that was the speed at which the human body falls. He must have tumbled for two thousand feet before he pulled the rip-cord and felt the jerk as the parachute opened. It was then he realized how swiftly he had been failing. There was comfort in that sudden jerk. Floating down from eight thousand feet there was time to look around as he swung pendulum-wise at the end of the parachute cords. Grim-looking country was spread out beneath him. There was no road. He couldn't see even a track-no house anywhere-no sign of habitation. The air battle had moved towards the west. He watched an aircraft go down, leaving a long trail of smoke like a great pencil mark across the sky. It was too far away for him to identify the type but it looked big enough to be a Jap bomber.

And then the ground seemed to be very close. He was dropping into a thinly wooded flat between a low ridge and swampy ground. The bump of landing surprised him. It was far more gentle than he expected and there

wasn't any wind to make the parachute hard to manage, once he reached the ground.

Walking to a patch clear of trees, Lambert spread the parachute to make a guide for searching aircraft, and then began to look more carefully at his surroundings. The low ridge which he had seen was only half a mile away. It was a tumble of rain-washed stones covered with stunted, gnarled trees, and from the top all he could see were more low ridges reaching to the horizon. He crossed the flat to the swamp.

There was more growth beside the water. Pandanus palms and paper barks were reflected in clear pools. Wide areas were covered with water lilies with pale blue flowers. The water looked clear and good to drink, but you couldn't be sure of water in still pools. He decided to use his sterilizing tablets if it became necessary to drink water from the swamp.

Late in the afternoon the sound of an aircraft woke Lambert from his dozing. It was coming nearer. Then he saw it away to the north-too far for the crew to have seen him. The aircraft went farther away, then turned and came towards him. He was dancing in the middle of his widely spread parachute when it flew overhead. The aircraft wheeled and came back and Lambert continued his antics, partly through joy at being discovered, partly to show the crew he was not injured. It came back again, lower this time, and two small parachutes burst in the air and floated to the ground. Lambert ran to where the parachutes landed, and found bundles containing rations, blankets, mosquito net, and magazines. A canister of water was attached to the other parachute. He had been found.

The sun was high when Lambert awoke the next morning. He walked to the swamp and washed in a clear pool. It looked deep enough for a swim but feet marks on the muddy bank were very much like those of a crocodile and he wasn't anxious to become a croc's breakfast. For his own meal he opened a tin of tomato juice, tried some baked beans, decided he wasn't hungry enough to eat beans, and turned to a tin of pineapple. It occurred to him that there was some compensation in being a castaway. The blokes back at the squadron didn't get pineapple for breakfast. He must see the messing officer about that.

Lambert was reading a magazine when he thought he heard something moving through the bush. He listened carefully. A slight breeze ruffled the bushland enough to muffle any particular sound, but he was sure he had heard the noise of animals moving. Then, in a sudden lull in the breeze he heard the noise again. It came from the thick undergrowth around the swamp. Lambert leapt to his feet and went towards the sounds. He hadn't walked very far when a voice, which seemed to be very close, said, "How far now, Jacky?"

It was woman's voice.

"Strewth," he thought. "Am I going crazy? Does baling do this to you? "

Then came the answer: "Not far now, missus. Come alonga white fella pretty soon."

Lambert didn't wait for any more. "Here I am," he shouted. "Here I am, over this way."

Then he saw her-a slim girl seated easily, confidently, on a big red horse, and behind her, mounted on a grey, was an abo.

"Hello there," she called. "Are you all right? "

"Yes-I'm all right," he replied. "That is, if I'm not dreaming."

"Oh no, we're real enough." The girl dismounted, let the horse wander, and came towards him offering her hand. Lambert gripped it firmly while he observed how snugly her figure moulded into her riding clothes, and how her friendly smile crinkled the corners of her dark brown eyes.

"I'm Nola Warren," she explained. "Father has a station about twenty miles away. Jacky here saw you come down yesterday but he didn't get in with the news until late in the afternoon, so we set out to look for you first thing this morning. I'm so pleased you're not hurt."

Lambert assured her that he was all right, told her his name, and how happy he was that he had been found. Then Nola took charge. Jacky was sent back to the homestead for the station truck and given a note to Nola's father which told of the rescue, gave Lambert's name, and asked that a message be sent to the squadron that Brian would be at the homestead, where a Moth could land and take him back to base. It was midday when Jacky left. Nola and Brian sat on the blanket§ which he had spread in the shade, and ate lunch from Brian's store of rations.

They talked about all manner of things and the afternoon went quickly. Nola told how she lived at the station and helped her father where she could, because it was so hard to get staff, and Brian spoke a little about the air battle of the previous day. He felt that he had never found it so easy to talk to a girl before. He liked talking to Nola, and tried to think about things to tell her so that he could keep on talking.

A search aircraft came over during the afternoon-Jacky must have reached the homestead with his message-and they both stood on the parachute and waved. Another small parachute floated down, and when they picked up the canister there was a note attached. It read: "My, my-- do you still want to be rescued?" and they both laughed without any embarrassment. An hour later some Spitfires came over and began putting on a show. Lambert, recognizing them as planes from his squadron, guessed his friends had come to see for themselves. Nola was thrilled by the display and Lambert began thinking about the ragging he would have to endure when he returned to the squadron.

They had to walk around the swamp to reach the truck when it arrived just before sundown, and it was not long after that they were at the homestead, eating steak and eggs and listening as Nola's father told how he had sent the messages and that he expected that the Moth would be at the homestead late the following day. Lambert wished that messages couldn't get through so quickly, and hoped that the Moth would be unserviceable anyway. But the Moth came next afternoon and he was back at the squadron in time for tea. The ragging was even worse than he had imagined it could be and they wouldn't stop quizzing him about the "Girl in the Wilderness".

Brian Lambert hurried along Collins Street. Gee! it was good to be in Melbourne again. He looked at his watch. Three thirty! He had promised to meet Johnny and Butch at three thirty. This was going to be a wow of a leave with those two in Melbourne at the same time. He ran up the steps of the Australia, looked in at the saloon bar. They weren't there. His eyes searched the foyer, passing over other people waiting for friends. -No, not there. Perhaps they were in the lounge. He went in, stopped near the entrance, and began inspecting the tables. He was concentrating on his search when he heard a voice at his side.

"Well, if it isn't my parachute boy."

He didn't recognize the smart frock or the perky hat, but he couldn't mistake those dark brown eyes and that friendly smile.

"Nola, what are you doing here?"

"Can't I come here if I like?" she laughed.

"Yes, of course. Gee' Am I glad to see you' When did you get here? Where are you staying? "

"Sit down and I will tell you all," Nola replied. He sat down and noticed for the first time that Nola had a friend with her. They were introduced but he couldn't remember anything about the friend except that her name was Mary Something. Then Butch and John came along and they had a grand afternoon.

Every morning after that Butch and John would ask, "What are you doing to-day?" and before Lambert could reply, they would say together, "Oh, I'm going out with Nola."

It was a quiet wedding. Nola was radiant. Butch and John were "in tight formation". Brian was happily thinking that falling in love and getting married happened much quicker than the first thousand feet of his fall before the parachute opened.

FLIGHT-LIEUTENANT R. OLNEY