Chapter 9 Jungle Diary; Midnight Marauder; Convoy to Aitape; D-Day at Noemfoor

JUNGLE DIARY

IT was only a few days after the big Kittyhawk victory and the squadron had its tail up. Flying-Officer Gordon White of Perth (W.A.), top-scorer in the Big Do, was leading a patrol over the Hollandia area when one of the Kittyhawk pilots baled out-about forty miles south of Cyclops. It was Flying Officer Colin Harvey, of East Malvern (V.) Twenty-one days later Harvey was picked up and brought back. He had written this day-to-day diary of his adventures.

June 13.

On base patrol over Hollandia about 16oo hours, was vectored south. Flying No. 4 fairly wide and got into spin on entering cloud about 8ooo feet-decided to bale out not knowing cloud base. Fell through the cloud base about 3000 feet, immediately pulled the rip-cord. I tried to position myself as I descended but could only see hills all round noticed my aircraft burning below me and another aircraft about two miles away, but could not tell if it was turning towards me or from me.

Pulled hard on the rigging lines just before hitting the trees but crashed through and hit the ground on my back, just a few yards from a rocky creek bottom. Lay stunned for a while with a nasty pain in my back-released my 'chute and sat up. Walked into the creek and looking up saw a slight break in the trees so laid my parachute out under it. Took stock of my surroundings and noticed a tall palm tree and thought I would spread my parachute on top.

I took my boots, socks and gaiters off and tried to climb a tree-got up about ten feet and seemed O.K., so returned and disengaged my 'chute from seat and back pack. By now it was very heavy and saturated with water. I wound it all around me and attempted the climb. Managed twenty feet of about sixty feet and realized I could not make it. Returned it to open space, washed and dried my feet, put on my boots, etc. There was no sign of my dinghy, just paddles and stoppers and emergency rations left in the dinghy pack. Emergency ration in my Mae West had also torn away.

My left trouser leg was all torn and had cuts on my knee and down the leg. Felt a bit panicky but settled down to a more or less reasonable frame of mind and weighed the pros and cons. I wandered down stream about a hundred yards and noticed what I thought were prints of two-toed Jap creepers and recent diggings at roots in creek bed.

Decided to sleep in the jungle so went in about thirty yards, laid out seat and pack. All this time P-40s circled overhead and later a Cub which I thought saw the 'chute, but gave no sign. It was pitch dark by 6 p.m. so took pads out of my Mae West and used them to ease my back, and unzipping the ends pushed my hands up into them, and lying down on the pack, retired.

June 14-

It drizzled all night and I had no sleep arose stiff and sore, had a drink in the stream, and then went down stream for about a quarter of a mile to find a more open spot to lay the 'chute, but no luck. Went up stream and after only about 100 or i5o yards, came upon low scrub patch on side of a hill, so carried my 'chute up and laid it out about 7.30 a.m.

Even slight exertions were tiring so took everything slowly to preserve my strength i Having only one tin of emergency ration I had decided to wait two days at this spot without food before starting to trek in a general northerly direction. Broke down every tree and scrub I could for about twenty yards around, which made quite a fair clearing. Quite a few P-40S circled overhead, but none saw me, so decided to raise 'chute like an Indian tent to make it more easily visible at an angle.

About 9-30 a Cub seemed to come straight to me and circle. I waved my Mae West and he sighted me. Boy was I pleased! The plane dropped supplies and message No.1:

"Stay at this spot until told to leave. When you hear plane, build smoke fire to help us locate you. We are coming back with further supplies."

I then cleared a small spot under the trees close by and laid out my blanket and supplies and had a feed of cold M. and V. and biscuits.

Wondered if my wife had been notified, also if this was the culmination of a fortnight's rotten luck at poker and flying (missed many trips due to bad weather and u/s aircraft) but hoped that being sighted was a good omen for another 17oo hours' flying without accident, this being my first to date.

Did not smoke as had only one small packet of matches and needed these for lighting fires. Set out leaves to dry in preparation for same. Lay down off and on all day and made tea of cheese, biscuits, fruit bar and lemon drink. Kept a good look out for hostile persons and retired about 5-30

June 15

Had no sleep again, back still painful, and cuts on leg festered. Had wash and drink and about 9.30 two planes circled dropping three packages and message No. 2 which contained signalling instructions and

"Take things easy and we will have you out in no time. Good luck. Tech./ Sgt. E. A. Salitrnik."

Got them all O.K. and was very happy to receive so many supplies, comforts and messages from the boys. Always thought them a cracker crowd, but never thought I would look forward so much to seeing them again.

Immediately made up a reserve kit of essential medical and food supplies, and trekking about a hundred yards back into the jungle hid them in a more or less naturally defendable position in case Japs came and I had to move away from my position next to the 'chute. On my gun belt I kept ammo. and a pouch containing atebrin, water tablets, compass (checked O.K.), maps, and instructions received from the air this morning.

Had light lunch. About 3 p.m. two Cubs circled, dropping message No- 3 querying receipt of three packages that morning and

"Be sure to take atebrin-do not leave area."

I replied with three strips-they appeared to understand and left, returning about 4-30, but left no message and presumed they were mapping the country.

During the day had wash and bandaged my left leg, treating same with mercurochrome and sulphanilamide powder. This and back still sore but easing slightly-painful to sit or lie in any way.

Made a tripod and f or tea had hot hash, cup of tea and felt a lot happier. Set up camp and jungle hammock dropped during the day and retired about 5.45

June 16.

I awoke early after a fair night's rest (dreamt I was being attacked by two Japs and my revolver failed to work), immediately checked my revolver and repaired my Very pistol which had failed to fire the previous day due to a bent trigger guard, not allowing the trigger to come sufficiently far back. Washed and took all medical precautions, paying particular attention to my feet as I knew I had a long walk ahead.

Two planes over at 9-15 and received message No- 4 containing further signalling instructions and mail, also a map showing my position. Planes returned at 10-30 and I acknowledged fact that I had received all packages the previous day and also that I was not seriously injured. I was dropped another map showing my corrected position which certainly makes things a lot brighter.

Spent the day cleaning up camp and laying things out. Still tiring quickly and resting every twenty minutes or so. Cut up 'chute into signalling strips, and made a day bed of waterproof bags, parachute pack and the remaining silk, and am now living in style. Have rechecked my position and though this seems too good to be true, placing me only about thirty-five miles from base. It all checks up including direction of running water and length of time we travelled south from base.

Had a sip of neat brandy on the strength of it.

Had biscuits and milk for lunch and tea, sausages, fruit and biscuits for the evening meal. Am eating lightly to build up supply of food in case of bad weather or mishap to patrol. Everything possible has been done for my safety and comfort and words cannot express my appreciation of the daily flights made by the Cubs. With a little luck the patrol will reach me in about four days, Needless to say I will be very pleased to have someone to talk to. In the meantime the dally aircraft visits are the brightest part of each day. The flies are very bad-except for the first night, mosquitoes have not worried me very much. I am taking three atebrin daily, drinking about three canteens of water, and smoking about twenty cigarettes.

It has been raining off and on for some days, but generally the weather has been quite pleasant. Have restudied my maps and signals and know them by heart should the necessity arise.

June 17.

Had best night's sleep to date-arose about 6-30- Planes over earlier than usual-perhaps my watch is getting slow. Received no message but called for a dinghy, as mentioned before mine was nowhere to be seen.

I am certainly being well looked after as today I received ham, bread, grapefruit, salmon, coffee, jam, peanut butter and tinned sausages. What a feed!

My four-day rescue estimate of yesterday was far too optimistic and now guess eleven days as about it. Expect patrols on Tuesday the 27th, making a fortnight since I baled out. This does not worry me and feel confident as I know the Cub boys are doing everything for my speedy rescue.

Had light lunch and tea of ham, bread and butter, biscuits and jam. Rained heavily at 5 p.m., so had cold coffee and retired at 5-30Had spent the day pottering around, made a low table and set out all foodstuffs. At 2 p.m. plane came over and acknowledged my signal for medical supplies which I needed mainly for my reserve kit.

Sunday, June 18.

Arose at 7 a.m. after a jolly good night's rest-had breakfast of porridge, salmon, bread and butter and grapefruit juice. Plane over at 9.15 and I received slashing news included in messages 5 to 7. Five instructions re trek, 6 general medical instructions, 7 questions re my physical condition and ability to travel about five miles a day. Pleased I can start out and do something for myself because everyone else has done so much, and to date I have done nothing and am tired of it.

4 p.m.-It's raining very hard so am lying in my hammock-have spent my busiest day to date-retrieved my emergency kit from the jungle and set out all my supplies and have packed the essentials ready for the trip. It all makes a pretty bulky bundle but will give it a try and if too heavy can cut it down somewhat.

6 p.m.-had cold tea, sausages, etc.-still raining heavily-shot at what appeared to be racing type goanna about 3 feet 6 inches long. Rebandaged my cuts and am now retiring.

Monday, June 19.

Had a good night's sleep-up at 6-hot sausages and tea for breakfast. All the food and stores I left behind I packed in waterproof bags and marked "Bearing, Name and Date" on a note and left this with it. It has been pretty hard going all day-struck a larger stream at about 10-3o-have seen quite a lot more of suspected Jap marks but have decided they are just wild pigs.

Saw some cassowaries and many other beautiful birds-planes over at 12-received message No. 8 re matches and general needs but had plenty of everything. Had lunch of hard-boiled eggs, bread and jam-the going was much harder this afternoon and I don't think I got very far today. Had eggs and chocolate for tea.

Tuesday, June 20.

Fair night's sleep-eggs for breakfast-had an absolute hell of a morning-creek terribly muddy and many times sank over my knees and had to lay my packs on the mud and crawl over them.

Cut down my weight considerably before starting this morning. Threw out Very pistol, cut my blanket by a third, medical supplies to essentials and reserve food to an absolute minimum. Banks of river mostly thirty or forty feet, and often had to go back quarter of a mile or so to get across the stream. Watch which had been damaged in the jump, now smashed altogether. At 10-30 came to a big branch in the creek, water terribly sluggish. As was up a fifty-foot bank, had to watch the creek intently for about a quarter of an hour before I could tell which way it flowed. All my pack-straps had broken-jungle terribly thick and as I was now not too sure if I was on the correct creek, I stopped and waited for the aircraft.

Planes over but parcel got caught in creepers and on top of tree. I signalled for a raft and after waiting for some time they returned with it and further supplies. I hurried on this afternoon and covered a few miles, pulling my dinghy with my supplies in it along the creek bottom. Had just hash and milk for lunch and tea.

Wednesday, June 21.

Had jam and biscuits for breakfast-set off early and though I had to carry my raft and supplies many times I got a fair way before lunch. Planes over and received message No. 9 commenting on my

, progress. Had steak and fruit for lunch. During the day saw many crocs. One about twelve feet long. rushed at me-I threw my big jungle knife and hit it on the head-I then scrambled out of the raft and up the bank. It stopped on the edge of the creek and then sidled off. After this always when paddling, I kept my revolver on my lap. I left it far too late to settle in-could not sling my hammock properly and it toppled over. Boy, am I miserable! Had tea of chocolate and biscuits.

Thursday, June 22.

Hash and wet bread for breakfast-started off by cutting across the jungle about a quarter of a mile with my pack as I could see ahead about a mile and a half a loop in the creek badly blocked with fallen timber. Had a good morning and only had to carry the raft a few times.

Planes over and received message No. 10 "How are things going, Harvey? Everything all right?"

I just waved and they understood. Had quick lunch of ham and eggs and then hurried on as intended stopping early to dry all my gear. Just had a good meal of tea, ham and eggs (first hot drink since I started). Had hoped I'd get some message referring to the patrol today as instructions originally said about eight days for the whole trip. Still, the creek is badly blocked up and if they only come as far as a boat will bring them I guess it will be a few days yet.

Sores on knee and foot are getting deeper -I treat them regularly and fortunately they do not pain. My back is better-feet are very sore and hands are badly scratched and pricked by the palms in the jungle. On the whole the trip now appears to be going fairly well but I'm longing to see someone to talk to. Guess I'm bloody poor company. On well it's getting dark, so to sleep. Certainly hope I get news of the patrol tomorrow. I'm as lonely as hell.

Friday, June 23

Just dried apricots for breakfast and got off to a good start. Rotten experience about nine - big croc. rushed at me mid-stream splashed furiously- no effect - as it got about a foot away I hit it on the snout with my paddle - it submerged and reappeared a couple of seconds later alongside my dinghy. I thrust my paddle at it and as it grabbed it and wrenched it from me I put a shot down its throat.

It went under - I then got to the bank and after waiting ten minutes, just its snout appeared. It seemed to be dead but I put another shot in its head to make sure. Again. about ten minutes later, its whole head came to the top for a few seconds, then sank again. Boy. was I a bundle of nerves!

Pushed on about 10.30. A large stream ran in from the north and for about one and a half miles the creek was very rocky with many rapids (small). 11.30 Came across a small shelter-the remains of -a fire (did not feel warm), a strip of blanket, half a sugar bag and an elastic belt. Waited here for planes -received message-patrol setting off to meet me tomorrow.

I replied with a "T" (signal for Japs or natives) and they appeared to see the shelter and understand. Saw some smaller crocs this afternoon but no attack. Had ham and tin of fruit for lunch and ham and biscuits for tea. Raft has been a big help but am walking a good deal to avoid crocs. Plenty of bird life and wallabies.

My health is pretty good physically but am feeling the mental strain considerably.

Saturday, June 24

Had a good rest and slept late as was fagged out mentally and had to take hold of myself. Tin of fruit for breakfast and made fair progress during the morning. Planes over, had received message No. 12 - Questions re shelter of yesterday. I made the necessary replies which were received O.K.- I then displayed ",M" and made signs of lighting cigarettes (needed matches)-then "A", did the Wild
West draw a few times (needed ammunition). Both these apparently correctly interpreted.

Half an hour after lunch came across another deserted Jap camp-there was some discarded clothing about including short-sleeved coat shirts, an ordinary shirt, pair of blue dungarees and a couple of hankies. All filthy dirty but in good condition. Shortly after I was rounding a grassy bend and saw some palm leaves sticking up. As they looked out of place I investigated and was rewarded with a gold-mounted curved Jap sword (three gold stars on either side of the hilt if that means anything) complete with a blue and crimson sash. There was also a pair of puttees, scissors and sandshoes.

Twice later in the day I came across more evidence of Japs-successfully eluded three large crocs-am losing a little time hugging the banks so that crocs can come only one side, but it's safer and a lot better for my peace of mind. Several large creeks have entered this one from the north-have not had to unload all day and have walked only a few times.

Had a good lunch of ham, wet bread and jam; and for tea, salmon and milk. Guess I'll get news of the patrol tomorrow so here endeth the eleventh day.

Sunday, June 25.

After getting to bed last night was ill. Vomited badly and had bad attack of dysentery but fortunately was O.K. on awaking this morning. Had an eventful day. In the first half hour was attacked by a croc. but shot him when he got within about eighteen inches.

Came across another Jap shelter but no odds and ends. Planes over-received message No. 13 referring to my "A" and "M" of yesterday (they had been correctly interpreted). I then gave "T" and waved the Jap sword and they appeared to understand.

Shortly after lunch saw a Jap sitting under a palm shelter on the bank of the creek. When he saw me he called out in a pleading voice - I pointed my revolver at him (did not fire as I had seen smoke rising from around the next bend and did not want to warn anyone of my approach). He scampered into the bush - barefooted - short-sleeve shirt - short trousers - no hat.

On rounding next bend saw small tent with fire but no sign of Japs.

Thinking they may have been waiting to snipe me from the jungle, I swam past this on the far side of my dinghy, holding on to it and my revolver. Hurried on till late - croc. again attempted to attack me but put two shots into him just as he rushed off the bank at me.

Just had chocolate for tea.

Monday, June 26

Just had chocolate for tea again had to shoot a croc.-about ten o'clock saw a Jap walking high up on the bank of the creek just in the jungle. Later heard singing, and on rounding the bend saw two Japs outside a tent, one bending over the fire, the other one just arriving with an armful of wood-they apparently did not see me. Heard automatic rifle fire yesterday morning and again this morning.

Planes over-received message No. 14. I had to laugh over this as it referred to alligators and the fact that they were easily frightened off. Had tin of fruit and chocolate for lunch - I signalled for an Owen gun and also "when expect patrol". They understood but did not return later with gun. Perhaps they read the two messages consecutively.

Pushed on this afternoon but nothing untoward happened. Salmon, biscuits and tomato for tea hands are very sore-shooting many rapids as get swept off my feet when I try to walk through them. Raft is taking a terrific bashing -can't quite understand letter received yesterday. Message No. i i said patrol leaving last Saturday, letter yesterday says Walrus landing patrol on lake when I reach a larger creek. That is why I asked re patrol today. I would certainly like to see it.

Tuesday, June 27

Chocolate for breakfast-got off to a good start but in half an hour ran into terrific rapids-skirted two-travelling through terrible undergrowth-this wasted about two hours-was sucked into the third and could not make the bank-raft swamped-was tossed out and bashed around. Impossible to stand up-lost my hat, small paddle and water bottle. Fortunately my two main packages floated and the raft got caught in some logs about half a mile down the stream. Stopped early and dried blankets, etc.

Planes over-received a note-signalled for boots, water bottle and cigarettes-this afternoon country levelled out and river very sluggish-back and arms very sore as it's hard work paddling. Saw quite a few crocs. But they are only five or six feet long, light grey in colour with distinctly marked tails. Some of them followed me for some distance but did not come very close.

Quite a number of creeks have entered this one during the last couple of days-had meat and fruit for lunch and a big tea, meat, dry bread for a change, jam, condensed milk, chocolate and fruit. This is the end of my second week alone.

Wednesday, June 28

Got away to a very good start, river is very muddy and the going is hard. Planes over but parcel went in river and could not find it. Planes back with further supplies. Only covered another mile or so after this and settled in rather latish. Meat and tomatoes and onions for tea. Received message advising that they were not sending a patrol to meet me as it would run into great difficulty-was bitterly disappointed but guess I can hold out for another five days (plane's estimated time to complete the trip).

Thursday, June 29

Lot of mosquitoes last night and again tonight. Had a good morning, stopping only when planes over. Received message No. 15 re floating of future packages-signalled for mosquito repellant-rifle dropped to me instead of Owen gun, but even this had no bolt. Saw about six big rafts tied to banks they were about twenty feet long and about five 12-inch logs wide. Big creek entered from the north-think I am now into the mapped part of the river and have tried to map read, but the river twists every couple of hundred yards and I find it impossible.

River very sluggish and hard going. Found a cross tied to one of the rafts with two more crosses lying beside it. Many crocs but no trouble. Chocolate and meat for lunch-grapefruit juice and chocolate for tea. Wish I got a lot more to drink and less to eat. I have no water bottle and am terribly thirsty and have been drinking creek water.

Friday, June 30

Early start-breakfast of chocolate, meat and grapefruit en route. Creek practically dead stop-planes over and parcel dropped only five yards short of me in the water. Boy was it close! Just paddled on and ate a few eggs.

About one o'clock came across a terrific blockage-deflated dinghy and as the jungle was very thick and going got difficult I discarded everything I possibly could. My Jap sword, rifle and ammunition, medical stores, mail which had been dropped to me, keeping only one tin of emergency food. I have travelled for two hours round this blockage but am still not in sight of the end of it so have settled in for the night. I have no idea where I am but appear to be going in a generally southerly direction, so perhaps am on the final stretch at last.

The banks are terribly muddy and have had great difficulty in making camp the last two nights. During this last hour's walk today have come across many deserted native huts.

Saturday, July 1

No breakfast-walked for about an hour got going in creek-slight leak in raft fixed with sticking plaster. N-7astv experience attempting to cross small log' blockage about six logs floating nigh across river. Got on to first log intending to drag my dinghy across them, but it was apparently waterlogged and sank beneath my weight. Tried to get on to second log, then back into the dinghy but was swept underneath by the current. Struck out furiously and after what seemed an interminable time, came to the top on the downstream side of the blockage. Reached the bank and crawled out on the logs and retrieved my dinghy.

Paddled solidly all day-no planes over; had fruit for breakfast on the way and chocolate during the day-would love something to drink-surrounding ground is very swampy, very few trees, all palms. Now mosquitoes very bad, few big crocs, but no trouble. The last week, shortly after retiring have felt very hot and the last few nights have been simply bathed in perspiration.

Missed the plane today but guess there are many reasons why it could not get out weather, engine trouble, or perhaps there is another plane down.

Sunday, July 2

Started off early and ate chocolate as I went along-drank river water-paddled strongly good current. Shortly after starting came across hundreds of thousands of flying-foxes. The sky and trees were simply black with them and they were kicking up an awful row. The first I saw of these was some days ago at lunch time. I was rather scared as I had not struck them before, but fortunately the plane was over at that time and have no doubt that it could have scared them off had they attacked me.

Planes over-received message No. 16-it referred to the log jam I passed yesterday also "We could not reach you yesterday because of bad weather". They flew around for some time and about half an hour later dropped me message No. 17- 1 was almost at the point where the river ran nearest to the lake where I was to be picked up, and in this message was also included a rough sketch, showing position of the marker dropped in the river where I was to stay.

Paddled on for about an hour and a half and came to the marker-made camp and then attempted to get through to the lake but it was too hard for today. Plenty of time as I have two days to wait for the plane. Fruit, eggs and chocolate for tea.

Monday, July 3

Chocolate and sausages for breakfast-slept in till late. Four Kittyhawks over during the morning presumably carrying out fighter sweep, prior to the Walrus coming out to pick me up. Planes over-received message No. 18 telling me to go to the lake tomorrow morning. Had lunch of cheese and eggs and milk no fruit today-pity-very thirsty and am drinking the river water. It's muddy but tastes all right. Hot in sun-mossies bad in shade, so just fill in time lying in my hammock. Have packed everything in readiness for tomorrow morning -will sleep here by the river tonight and go over to the lake first thing tomorrow. If I am picked up tomorrow as I certainly hope I am, it will be just three weeks, but it has seemed like three years. Boy, will I be pleased.

Tuesday, July 4

Up early-walked about quarter of a mile through jungle-then struck the swamp around the edge of the lake. It was the hardest going of the whole trip. The grass was about eight feet high-very thick and I was knee-deep in water the whole time. Could just throw my dinghy (deflated) and bundle a yard or two ahead of me and crawl after them. Could only maintain direction by getting an odd glimpse or two of a high peak on the far side of the lake. This last half mile took me at least two hours. Arrived at the lake, inflated my dinghy and sat in it scanning the sky very hopefully.

I heard many planes but none came my way and the sun was beginning to sink before the Walrus eventually came into sight. It circled a few times and I was dead scared it would be unable to land, but eventually it settled down. I paddled out and was very pleased to be taken aboard.

Close take-off and arrived back at the strip at about 5-30 p.m. a very happy man.

I cannot speak too highly of the work done by the U.S. squadron, and particularly by T/Sgt. E. A. Salitrnik who found me and succoured me throughout the whole trip. Words cannot fully express my appreciation for everything that was done, but I am sure Salitrnik understands just what it meant to me to see him over every day.

From the Diary of FLYING-OFFICER COLIN HARVEY

CONVOY TO AITAPE

T0 port the peaks behind Cape Gloucester lifted pale blue outlines like flat cardboard serrations against a calm sky. Then Umboi Island made a long, blue wash along the horizon.

Conical Sakar Island rose clear on our port bow, a green peak buttressed with kunai ridges running down to the sea, dwarfed by tall columns of towering cumulus cloud.

The whole voyage was a peaceful idyll between two periods of nerve-racking, backbreaking strain for the ground crews. Only those who have taken part in an amphibious invasion know what it means in preparation, hard work and discomfort.

All night in the glare of floodlights and half the day, working parties had loaded squadron gear into the capacious tunnels of the L.S.Ts drawn up along the beach. For days they had been bringing it down, piece by piece, piling it in mountainous dumps along the foreshore. Now there was no time to be lost. L.S.Ts work to schedule, skippers and tides don't wait on the energies of men, rather men must adapt themselves to the inexorable demands of time and tide. The L.S.Ts were loaded, the tide was caught, the rendezvous kept and, for a brief spell, the airmen could loll about the iron decks amidst the ranks of parked, ready loaded vehicles, waiting whatever the future might hold, gazing with curious interest at the new panoramas that wound up from the sea.

The water was dull olive and the sky grey when the squadrons reached Lineman Bay. Scores of L.S.Ts, Liberty ships, freighters, destroyers and smaller craft swung, at anchor or churned up milky sand through the green and-white froth against the beach. The cast was a smoky yellow haze in a band of lead, which hung below high, fight-grey stratocumuli. Somebody counted seventy-Ave transports and then got tired. The L.S.Ts nosed up to the beach, a beach of furious activity, columns of American soldiers in their high domed steel helmets and leopard-skin jungle suits, trucks, jeeps, command cars, tanks, artillery, stores and men busy among them. For the R.A.A.F. that part was over. They could stand at the rail above the hubbub and look on.

They were mixed types, these men who were the basic pawns in this historic drama. A guard in his green uniform, a bayonet strapped to his thigh, looking incongruous and out of place with his neat, clipped, middleclass moustache, gleaming glasses and quizzical forehead. He would have looked more in place behind a bank grille, pushing over money in a folded bank book, than standing disconsolately there at the head of a gangway, temporarily empowered with all the authority of an army, backed by a sovereign State.

A Negro, white tube of a cigarette yawing from his gaping mouth, lazily scratched the back of his woolly head and dreamed of Harlem lights or white fields of Southern cotton or, perhaps, just a juicy steak and an easy drink somewhere back beyond the islands amidst civilized brick and concrete along the sidewalks of a city, any city.

An American sailor, stripped down to a girlish pair of bathing trunks, nattily laced down each thigh with white cord, "Suva, Fiji Islands" printed over the stomach with a background of palm trees.

A sweating G.IS., sticky in his heavy equipment, great pools of sweat spreading under his armpits, muttering savagely, reminiscently: "Them marines may be devils to fight but the sonsuvbitches surely can't work."

Next morning there was no land to be seen. We knew now our destination. D-day was April 22, the goals Tadji airstrip, Aitape, the Cyclops and Sentani strips at Hollandia, Dutch New Guinea. R.A.A.F. airfield construction units would go in at Aitape on D-day; a R.A.A.F. headquarters set-up, the squadron forward echelons on D + 1; the aircraft, if all went well at the beachhead, on D+ 2. Hollandia was to be an all-American show. Meanwhile, we basked and sweated on the iron decks or in the stifling walls of our L.S.Ts and watched the dimpled sea widen into blue ringlets or heave between the ship's rails like an unsteady flat disk rimmed with calm sky.

For days we saw nothing but water, our fellow travellers and the watchful destroyer escorts, except once, when a tiny blue peak, like a diminutive snapshot, thrust itself out of the horizon. It was a brief holiday from war - lazy days, a calm sea, clouds with silver edges pretty along the western horizon at evening, detective stories, only the low, black silhouettes of the destroyers to remind us where we were and why.

The news that there had been very little organized resistance to the landings at either Aitape or Hollandia came over the ship's radio on the afternoon of D-day, April 22. Air-Commodore Scherger, we learned later, had watched the Aitape landing from a destroyer which took part in the preliminary bombardment. He was on the beach two hours after the infantry landed. Twenty-four hours later the ground personnel were busy setting camp and preparing alert huts for the Kittyhawks to move in. Following rapid work by the R.A.A.F. airfield construction units, the Tadji strip was ready for fighters by next day, April 24

At Tadji, the R.A.A.F.'s most advanced operational group gained its first lessons in the real meaning of mobile war. There were many things to learn, attitudes and methods carried over from more leisurely, more expansive days to be discarded, ultimate objectives to be kept in view; above all, the fact that the primary purpose of the R.A.A.F. is to put aeroplanes in the air and keep them there. It was a chastening as well as hopeful experience. Above all rose the dominant fact that R.A.A.F. Kittyhawks did come in on D + 2 and were in the air again within an hour of touching down.

An Australian-made Beaufort was the first R.A.A.F. plane to land on Tadji strip. It was piloted by Flying-Officer F. R. Woolcock, Taringa (Q.). Group-Captain Pearce, C.B.E., D.F.C., was a passenger. Other members of the Beaufort crew were Flying Officer J. P. Proudfoot, Dalby (Q.), Warrant-Officer J. Price, Sydney, and Flight Sergeant J. D. Brown, Northam (W.A.). Two Lightnings and three Douglas transports were the only Allied planes previously on the strip. The first fighter pilot to land was Squadron-Leader Les Jackson, D.F.C.

The first hitch occurred through the weather. The Aitape coast was mostly sac-sac swamp, a water-logged wall of tangled undergrowth and branching palm armed with dangerous spikes. The existing Japanese fighter strip, inadequate for the heavier Allied planes, as nearly all Japanese airstrips in New Guinea have proved, had been built up and made ready within forty-eight hours by the airfield construction squadrons. Then came torrential rains, lashing down, churning up roads into
seas of sour-smelling mud, softening the earth surface of the runway. All available labour was mobilized, aircrews, general hands, mess-men-everybody who could be spared from the essential minimum of routine work. All night and next day they toiled at the back-breaking labour of laying interlocking steel matting. It was ready in forty-eight hours, a little rough, but adequate for Kittyhawk needs, and the squadrons were soon busy with P.T. co-operation against Japanese barge traffic along the cut-off Wewak coast and standing patrols over Hollandia, as well as occasional bombing and
strafing attacks on lingering Jap strongpoints in the Aitape area.

FLIGHT-LIEUTENANT NORMAN BARTLETT

D-DAY AT NOEMFOOR

THE night had been one of gusty squalls -one that the Yank infantry would not likely forget, for the rain had soaked the decks of the L.S.Ts and most of the men had sweated beneath water-logged tarpaulins flung across the mass of loaded trucks and jeeps on the open decks. There were some R.A.A.F. men aboard, too, sharing these cheerless circumstances with the Americans, among whom were Redskins-Red Indian infantrymen trained in jungle warfare in the South American jungles.

I came up on the boat deck shortly before the dawn and watched it steal quietly in. The convoy was spread out now and the other vessels were as black slots in the sliding greyness of the calm sea. There was a long black streak directly to port between the sea and the sky. It was the island of Noemfoor.

We churned along quietly. It was a time for suspension, for slowness, and the motors were idling. From up here they could scarcely be heard. We'd taken all night to travel seventy miles from Biak Island. I saw a solitary star among the scattered, broken clouds overhead.

It began to grow light soon and there was movement on the wet, gloomy deck. Men were moving along the "chow" line. The antiaircraft guns were unsheathed. Their barrels glinted with vermilion tints from the sky. The rattle of a loosening breech. The click of triggers. The men were checking on their weapons, jamming cartridges into magazines.

The silhouette of the L.S.T. to our port began to form into blurred, jumbled outlines -a cargo like our own, of hundreds of men perched on the mass of vehicles and equipment. ne tints on the sky turned orange over the island, but the sun was not yet up.

The destroyer ahead of us swerved and began to turn in towards the streak of darkness we knew to be the island, the grey sea furrowed with darkened ripples in its wake. We followed presently, beginning to close in towards the land, which never seemed to change in distance. We must have been several miles away.

Two bells sounded. The high-pitched whir of the motors cut back. We were idling, floating gently. The vessel behind was turning in with us.

Away to port, a cruiser fired three red tracers. They gave a high trajectory and landed on the island. It was the signal for the bombardment. The show had begun.

Like a stage drama, it began quietly. I couldn't even hear the blast of the cruisers' guns or the burst of the shells on the shore. A destroyer was closer in and its shells zipped in, plastering the beach. With each burst of fire, the cruisers would become a black silhouette against a brilliant flash. Already, ragged smoke was hanging above them in the still air.

The flashes on the beach became more frequent now and the sound began to build up and up as we came in closer to the island. A brilliant flash on shore. Something had caught alight. It burned out quickly. There was a shroud of dust and smoke hanging over the stretch of beach.

You are suddenly aware that it is getting lighter, as the sound of the blasting guns grows in volume and intensity. In the pale sky above the island a seaplane is circling, spotting for the cruisers. Above and around it, puffs appear from Jap ack-ack. Sometimes the plane flies so low that it disappears below the skyline of trees.

The L.S.Ts had opened their doors now, their ramps swung partly down.

The bombardment was growing with savage intensity. Everything was floating in towards the shore, towards the grey-brown pall that was beginning to cover it. There began to grow on you an atmosphere of terrific delight. There were fighter planes in the sky high up. They were ours. Everything was ours.

You are conscious of a speeding up. The ships have opened up with quick rhythmic go-mm. guns which go thump-thump-thump-thump in quick and savage time. Flashes on the shore are fierce and often. Everything has become electrified, imperative. Everything has become deafening and soul-shaking.

Through it all we are moving in a gentle swell, with a gentle rise and fall of the bow. Squadron-Leader J. Gunther (our M.O.) is standing on the rail of the boat deck and hanging on to a rope. Down on the main deck Flight-Lieutenant R. Taylor, our bomb disposal man, is piling his gear into the R.A.A.F. vehicles.

Someone says there are planes in the sky. They are Liberators. There are five in the first wave. They fly steadily, black in the morning sky. It is so clear that you can see their hatches open. Everybody watches, sees the bombs come out in a stream-and waits for them to hit their target. Suddenly you see the terrific blast in a valley behind the first hill not far from the beach. And then the frightful crrrump and rush of air of each bomb, a string of fierce blasts all blended together, so fierce that you feel the wind rush by your ears. Surely nothing could live on that beach. The blast from the bombs is so fierce now that the ocean shakes. You can feel it tremble the sides of the vessel.

Those quick guns once more. We're closing in now. They are quicker now, more rhythmic. They go oompah-oompah-oompah-oompah in rapid succession, sometimes with a double or multiple blast. There is no longer an island ahead but a thick screen of smoke and dust, no longer anything to be seen beyond violent flashes. A lad above on the control deck is sending semaphore. Across to starboard a cruiser is flashing Morse. It is almost zero hour. The small landing craft bearing the first wave of infantry are already beginning to roll down the lowered ramps of the L.S.Ts.

About twenty minutes later, the first group of R.A.A.F. personnel came ashore in a duck. The men on the craft were Group-Captain W. A. C. Dale, D.S.O., Task Force engineer in charge of U.S. and Australian aerodrome construction engineers, Wing-Commander G. J. Towers, of Windsor (V.), Squadron-Leader C. R Cobby, of Trafalgar (V.), Squadron-Leader L. W. Jamieson, of Melbourne, and Lieutenant-Colonel Neal who landed with the R.A.A.F. as defence adviser.

As they passed, a Jap mortar got our range and began landing shells on the shore and in the shallow water between us and the coral reef. I sat here for a time and watched the shells land in the water, shooting up a spout. I saw one land near a column of men trooping shorewards. One man was killed. He dropped his rifle and fell into the water. The next burst hit a duck on the shelving beach and set it on fire. It burned for some time and then exploded. I sought a foxhole and found a gun pit occupied by an American gun crew waiting for the ammunition to show up.

By now, the place was swarming with men and vehicles. Bulldozers had already begun to cut roads from the beach to the airstrip. Trenches had been dug, radio posts established. The Noemfoor beachhead was a going concern. As we walked along, the Jap mortar sent up another waterspout about fifty yards offshore.

But the perimeter was widening. Flights of A.2o attack bombers were bombing and strafing the Jap positions continuously. Slow flying Seagulls were hovering overhead, still spotting for our ships. I watched the A.20s come in one at a time, strafe, then drop parachute bombs. Lightnings followed them, strafing farther inland.

There was some excitement on the strip. Thirty Japs who had been hiding in a bomb crater decided to make a break for it. They ran across the strip, making for a cave in the side of the hill. An Alligator turned its guns on them and mowed them down in a matter of seconds.

The sky clouded over and heavy rain began to fall. The truck containing R.A.A.F. tarpaulins, supplies and rations, and all our personal gear had capsized when disembarking from an L.C.M. The small band of R.A.A.F. men stood forlornly in the rain and ate a cheerless meal of rations borrowed from the Americans. And so ended D-day at Noemfoor.

PILOT-OFFICER G. B. GRAHAM