by Tim Bowden
Meanwhile, Bob Holt had arrived home:
The army authorities had not notified my parents of my return to Australia. They were astounded when I walked in the door about 7 pm with rifle, full pack and equipment, plus kit and sea bags. Tobacco was rationed and I was very popular with my father when I produced several pounds of it that I had bought in Durban. We talked for hours and I must’ve slept like a log because I knew nothing of the doings in the harbour until I woke in the morning.
Bob ‘lived like a Prince’ at home with his mother waiting on her returned son hand and foot. He could not forget the first lunch she prepared for him though. She said she had a treat in store, and sat him down to tinned herrings and tomato sauce. In Palestine he had lived on ‘goldfish’ for months on end and even the smell of the newly opened can made him feel nauseous. He knew he must have hurt his mother’s feelings, but with the best will in the world, he just could not eat her special treat!
He learned that his fourteen-year-old brother Len had enlisted—and had then been discharged from the army when his age was revealed. He had joined under the name of Patrick Michael Timothy O’Shaunessy and had given his religion as ‘C of E’.
The Japanese had bombed Darwin on 19 February 1942 and the only thing I can think of was the army must’ve been terribly short of men and that some of the medicos were in need of psychiatric treatment. Len had just turned fourteen and did not look one day older. My father remarked he ‘looked all boots and hat’ when he arrived home in uniform. Neither parent was very happy at the youngster’s choice of career, but they were prepared to let him stay—that is, until he informed them he was on a draft to Darwin.
At eighteen Len re-enlisted in the army. He joined the British Commonwealth Occupation Forces and was in Japan for three full years before being discharged. When the Korean War broke out, he again enlisted, serving with the 3rd Battalion Royal Australian Regiment. He then served in Malaya as an infantryman and finished his army career as a warrant officer parachute instructor. ‘Few of the Holt family have been particularly enamoured of work! Len was no exception. He tried it for a while then enlisted in the RAAF, and served in Vietnam. He finished his air force career as a Warrant-Officer First Class with nearly as many ribbons on his chest as General MacArthur!’
As Signaller Ken Clift and his 16th Brigade thawed out from Lebanon’s winter snow in the early months of 1942, there was a spate of ‘furphies’ about a move from the Middle East. (Furphies were a World War I rumour factory, based around the horse-drawn water tanks manufactured by the firm of Joseph Furphy, around which unreliable scuttlebutt used to be generated. In World War II unsourced gossip was vulgarised as ‘shithouse rumours’.) According to Clift, ‘The Russians were being badly beaten up by the Germans, and the rumour mill speculated that we would follow the convoys which were continually going through to Baghdad, still with “Britain Delivers the Goods” plastered all over them, while other speculation had their brigade on their way to Burma, Singapore, New Guinea or Rabaul.’
Troops can always sense a move afoot, and it was not long before the 16th Brigade were packed up and on their way south to Palestine.
Soon afterwards, a long convoy wound its way south of Port Tewfik on the Suez Canal. Ken’s mate Blue was placed in charge of J Section’s transport and equipment on board the freighter Ben Rennies, and along with several other J Section personnel, the Army Service Corps and the 2/3rd Battalion boarded the troop transport Orontes.
But where were they going? As Clift recalled, ‘Singapore had fallen. Part of the Seventh Division which had left before them, was subsequently diverted to Java due to the fall of Singapore and were now either dead, or prisoners of war, as our scanty intelligence had failed to convey to the convoy—while it was still at sea—that Java was also occupied.’
Ken felt their destination had to be Burma, but the reality was that the Japanese had occupied the Andaman Islands, which looked like the obvious launching pad for an attack on Ceylon to meet up with a pincer movement closing in with their troops advancing through Burma.
Before boarding the troopship Orontes, J Section had acquired some new personnel. Ken said he couldn’t call them recruits because they had been in the AIF as long as the originals. ‘Some were desirable and some not so,’ he remarked.
The other-ranks additions to our ranks were more than satisfactory but we were saddled with an Officer Cadet Training Unit–bred officer who was to become our Second in Command to our esteemed leader Captain Tribolet. We called him Lord Kitchener. So did he actually! He was objectionable in both breath and manner. With great aplomb, he announced to J Section on parade that he looked like Lord Kitchener and with great strictness, he intended to behave like Lord Kitchener. The only resemblance I could perceive was a scraggy looking moustache which he cultivated. He raved on, saying that he heard of J Section’s recorded action and so on, but, nevertheless, Division had placed him there to ‘see that discipline, administration and efficiency be maintained at all cost’.
‘It was his bounden duty, as a permanent soldier with a career in front of him, to see that these orders were carried out to the letter.’
Lord Kitchener was accompanied by a ginger-headed, toadying batman, Signaller X, who was under the impression that, even during his master’s absence, he could assume the same exalted rank as the lieutenant under whom he served. J Section noted this and decided to make corrections to his fantasies as soon as they could. It had the experience to deal with an officer like Lord Kitchener, ‘who had spent so much time in the Middle East but had adroitly dodged the battle areas’. They foresaw he might find J Section a handful and time proved this to be so.
Our attitude perturbed Trib. He mediated, indicating that the good lieutenant after all hadn’t been given a fair go, but, in his heart Trib must have known that this officer would be a dead loss to the section, in or out of action—I certainly did. Trib was so tremendous as a private, NCO and officer that he must have been aware that we were on the ball, but of course he had a job to do. We loved him, but we did not have to love no-hopers whom Division sent us in the guise of 2/IC officers to the section. However, loyalty was Trib’s watchword, and one had to prove his utter unworthiness, before he gave you away—that is why he was so great!
When the Orontes berthed in Colombo, they were shuttled out to an improvised camp about 25 miles from the city. It was situated in a rubber plantation near the village of Horana and the weather was steamy and the climate like a Turkish bath. It was hot and sunny up till about 4 pm each day and then tropical rain would set in for hours at a time, adding to the steam bath effect.
Singapore had fallen. The lack of air cover plus lack of solid troop training from Generals Brooke-Popham and Percival, all the way down to the lowliest NCOs, was a major factor contributing to the surrender to a vastly outnumbered Japanese invading army. Because of the fiasco at Pearl Harbor, the loss of the British battleships Prince of Wales and Repulse—not leaving a capital ship from either Britain or the USA in the Far East or the Pacific—and the alarmist stories in the press, the Japanese were depicted as ‘super soldiers’.
Brigadier ‘Killer’ Lloyd believed the breakthrough would occur as soon as his troops got to grips with ‘the little yellow enemies’. Accordingly, really tough jungle training became the order of the day. The 16th Infantry Brigade adapted itself quickly to the new conditions and the men, looking and acting like Spartans, got leaner and tougher day by day.
Really strenuous training programs were put in place, including commando warfare with unarmed combat, handling explosives and use of pistols and Thompson light machine guns. This expanded into a tactical wing, involving ambushes, night exercises with attackers and defenders taking part. Chalk marks had to be left on any objective to prove the position had been taken. Jungle training was well and truly to the forefront, copying and improving on Japanese methods and using information from intelligence sources gained from the surrender of Singapore and other debacles.
Th
e island of Ceylon experienced a couple of air raids from the Japanese. Ken Clift only sighted one from afar and it was directed on the Colombo waterfront. It did quite a lot of damage, and only one Japanese plane was destroyed by ack-ack fire. Twice J Section was woken in the middle of the night and told ‘the balloon had gone up’, that Japanese landings had been made on the island, but both were false alarms.
Because of this, their commander Captain Tribolet decided that if the Japanese made a landing where there were no roads, and there was signal gear to lump as well as weapons, he would like to experiment with the use of elephants, slinging baskets to either side to act as containers. The Singhalese whom Tribolet approached said he had an elephant which he would bring to brigade the following day, for practice. Clift’s mate Tubby had rejoined the section and he was appointed by Tribolet as the potential mahout or rider.
The thought of Tubby perched between the elephant’s ears, using a stick to guide the monster, was hard to conceive. Tubby was a bit dubious too, but said he’d give it a go.
The elephant, a female—but no lady—arrived on time near our tents and promptly dropped a heap of crap the size of the Great Pyramid for the Pioneer section to dispose of later. Working elephants in Ceylon or India are in two classes—one for rolling and picking up logs (mostly teak) with their trunks while the other class is trained to carry loads strapped across their backs. Once broken into their respective routines, neither can be used in any other way. It was a load carrying elephant which Trib had asked for, but the cunning old Singhalese trader—who had already trousered Trib’s rupees—knew just what would happen once we tried to load her, because she was trained as a log elephant. As soon as we threw the rope across what looked like a mountain of horny elephant and tried to drag the baskets up her side, she squealed like a banshee and took off, baskets trailing, and lumbered through the plantation back to her master down by the river, leaving three or four of our EPIP tents in her wake. Trib got part of his money back and we forgot the elephant idea. It might have worked all right for Hannibal, but we preferred more conventional methods.
It was decided that the Japanese were not about to invade Ceylon (they never did) and Clift could see that the signs of a move from the island were evident. Heavy gear and stores were packed in trucks and all leave cancelled.
Along with brigade headquarters and the whole 2/1st Battalion and reinforcements, J Section embarked on the troopship Devonshire and a convoy bearing the rest of the brigade left Colombo harbour. Latrine rumours had them bound for Burma, but as a course was set south-west to avoid Japanese naval units, and then south-east, it became obvious, long before being told officially, that Australia was their destination. ‘Most battalion “originals” had learned to read the stars during the Western Desert campaign and while in the northern hemisphere,’ Clift said, and they ‘could have readily laid the course themselves’.
The Devonshire was much more crowded than previous troopships. Each evening other-ranks were slung in hammocks above the mess tables. It was permissable to sleep on deck, but smoking was barred. Ken much preferred the deck to the smoky hot below-deck quarters. ‘Being a nonsmoker, I wasn’t inconvenienced and every evening a group of recumbent figures wrapped in blankets could be seen like a bunch of “mummies” laid along the deck.’
It was early morning in September 1942 when the convoy pulled into Fremantle, the band of the 2/1st Battalion playing, ‘There’s a Boy Coming Home On Leave’. After sending telegrams from the ship informing their families of their safe arrival in Australia, the troops poured ashore.
After a few days across the Great Australian Bight without incident, we landed in Port Phillip on a typical Melbourne day, soaking wet and cold. Buses were waiting to transport the brigade to Seymour Camp. Allotted tent space, Blue, Butta, Tom, Tubby and I shared the one EPIP tent. Through a muddy paddock, we made our way to a large marquee—the other-ranks wet canteen—and drank some of Victoria’s really excellent keg beer. It was exciting! It was marvellous! We just couldn’t believe it! Imagine, back in Aussie intact, and drinking keg beer!
Because of the shortage of train space, some of the 2/2nd Battalion were allotted first leave, as they came from the far north coast of New South Wales and had further to travel than the 2/1st Battalion from Sydney, or the 2/3rd Battalion, who were mostly south-west types. The following day a few duties were required of them, but ‘by and large everyone was excited as a bunch of kids before Christmas and preparing for home leave. This time we were crammed on a troop train bound for Central Railway Station, Sydney. It seemed absolutely incredible and we pinched ourselves to see if we were dreaming.’
Ken’s mother had waited for two days on the platform at Central Station. She was sent home early on the first day because of the assurance of a 2/2nd Battalion infantryman, who told her that he knew Ken was rostered for leave the following day, so her wait that day would be futile.
When, amid great excitement, we detrained at Central, Mum was waiting with my brother, Ces, and my brother-in-law Jack. Ginger my oldest brother was in camp with the RAAF. We didn’t say much. Mum, after a little period of silence, said I looked too thin and as she was on the verge of tears, I grabbed my kit, took her by the arm, hailed a cab and we were on our way back to the home I had known since a little boy, at North Bondi.
Don, my youngest brother, then at the ripe old age of thirteen, had taken the day off school and was waiting outside the front gate. My sister, Laura, and my pretty little niece, Margaret, were inside the house. Margaret was only eleven. As I dropped my rifle and pack and bent down to bestow my welcoming kiss, she turned her pigtails towards me, put her little face into tiny hands and began to cry. I nearly did too! It was a wonderful family reunion and perhaps the most thrilling time of my life. I relaxed and my mother spoiled me.
Chapter 12
PRISONERS OF WAR OF THE JAPANESE
Gunner Clarry McCulloch of the 2/3rd Machine Gun Battalion, fresh from the Syrian campaign, was delighted to learn on the grapevine that his unit would be returning to Australia. On 1 January 1942 they cheerfully climbed into cattle trucks for the rail journey to the Suez Canal.
By the time they reached Port Tewfik the troops were all in high spirits, thinking they would soon be back in Australia again. The harbour was crowded with all manner of ships, large and small. They were delighted when told to board the SS Orcades, a fast tourist ship which, pre-war, had been on the England–Australia run.
Unfortunately, all their bags and spare gear was left behind on the wharf, in spite of requests from their CO Colonel Blackburn to load them. The reason given by the captain of the Orcades was that he wanted to get away from the harbour because of the possibility of air raids. Also left at Port Tewfik were all their machine guns and vehicles, which had been driven there by road from Palestine. The drivers and vehicles were later loaded onto several small steamers and eventually returned to Australia. Such are the fortunes of war, as they avoided becoming prisoners of war. Several of their sergeants who were away at training schools in Palestine at the time were also lucky to miss being POWs. Clarry McCulloch later reflected:
I think the strangest stroke of fate was the case of a certain well-known character from C Company. A week before our departure he had fallen from the first floor balcony of a house of ill fame and had broken his arm. His only excuse was that he was drunk at the time, and he was still in hospital when we left. He also got back to Australia safely. Good luck comes in many guises.
It was very crowded on the Orcades and the battalion, being last to board, had to sleep on the open decks for the voyage. This turned out to be an advantage through the tropics, so there were no complaints. The meals were excellent and McCulloch thought it a good voyage as far as Colombo. ‘One thing which I remember about the trip was our introduction to beer in cans for the first time. It was an American brand and, although the beer was quite pleasant, most of us thought it had a slight metallic taste.’
Naturally there was much discussion
among the troops about where they were going. Opinions were varied. Most thought that Australia was the best bet, but one rumour had Burma as a likely alternative. Although this suggestion was howled down by most of the troops, it was revealed much later that Burma was actually the preferred option put forward by Winston Churchill and the British War Cabinet. The Sixth and Seventh Australian Divisions had already been ordered to head for Burma and it was only after a very bitter argument between Churchill and the Australian prime minister John Curtin that the convoy was turned around and finally headed to Australia.
Their stay in Colombo was very brief, with no shore leave granted, and soon the Australians were on a south-easterly course again. Some still favoured Australia as a destination, but after receiving lectures about the Dutch East Indies they began to think otherwise.
On the morning of 15 February they woke to find the ship threading its way between heavily forested islands, then dropping anchor in the harbour of Oosthaven on the south-western end of Sumatra. Apparently the plan was for them to help the Dutch troops defend the aerodrome at Palembang in the north of the island. As they had no machine guns, the Number One and Two of each gun team had to be given something with which to defend themselves, so they were hurriedly issued with old Ross 14 rifles from the ship’s armoury. These were World War I vintage and probably well worn from much use. ‘What a farce it was,’ Clarry said, ‘going into battle equipped like that!’