Larrikins in Khaki

by Tim Bowden

  Once ashore their companies regrouped as darkness fell. Dawson’s group set off on a 9-mile march with full gear. Their camp was not far from the Seven Mile Aerodrome. There were no facilities, no mosquito nets, no tents, no water, nothing except a cleared site and ‘millions of operatic mosquitoes’. It was impossible to sleep, Dawson recalled.

  We were all dusty, tired, sweaty and smelly. The only water was what we had in our water bottles. At this stage food was scarce—it was mostly bully beef and army biscuits anyway. Diarrhoea and dysentery started to move through the battalion. B Company didn’t have many casualties from disease at this time, mainly I think, because our company commander, Captain Sam Templeton, was very conscious of food and hygiene discipline and he made sure this got through to his troops. I remember our first dysentery case was a lieutenant.

  About two weeks later Dawson was in charge of a working party unloading stores—cases of tinned food in various sizes of boxed ammunition—from a ship called the Macdhui. The stores were loaded into large rope nets, hoisted out of the ship’s cargo hold by a crane and then lowered onto a lighter. Also berthed at the small wharf was another ship even though there was really only room for one. The air raid siren sounded and the fellow in charge of the lighter told Dawson to get his troops onto the Macdhui. He said it would set sail as it was more difficult to hit while moving, and the Japanese Zeros would probably target the wharf not the ship. This was not good advice.

  As soon as they appeared it was obvious the bombers were after the Macdhui, which was by then on the move. I was on the boat’s top deck, leaning on the rail, when there was a big splash. The noise was deafening and all hell broke loose! As I instinctively turned away and bent over, I was thrust forward onto my chest and felt strong pressure in my crutch due to my shorts being forced up. In a fraction of a second, my shoulder hit the ship superstructure below the bridge and the ship seemed to rise and fall. When I managed to stand up the ship had a substantial list to one side and was still underway. Eventually, after about 20 or 30 minutes, she returned to the wharf. As I tried to talk to one of the crew I noticed I’d gone partially deaf but that cleared up in a few days.

  That day the 39th Battalion suffered its first war casualties. A few officers and other soldiers had gone down into the ship saloon for a drink when they boarded the Macdhui. One of the bombs had exploded down there and several men were killed and others wounded. Dawson said he ‘wasn’t a drinker in those days, but if I had been, I may not have survived to tell the tale’.

  On another work detail, the ship Dawson’s men were unloading pulled out from the wharf to let a small coastal trader in. It was loaded with troops who’d escaped from Rabaul. Some of them had been taken prisoner by the Japanese and were used as bayonet practice. With the help of their mates they managed to get out and were picked up by this little ship. ‘It was there and then that I made up my mind that in no way would I be taken prisoner by the Japanese.’

  On 24 June, General Morris created Maroubra Force, made up of the 39th Battalion plus some signals, supply and medical groups. Dawson’s B Company was ordered to move to Kokoda overland. They carried a full backpack, webbing, ammunition pouches, a side haversack containing mess tin, personal gear and gas cape. Added to this was a rifle (or other weapon), bayonet, scabbard and full water bottle. The heavy Lewis machine gun was moved around the sections of a platoon to share the burden. It was a tough introduction to the horrors of the Kokoda Track—not, as Dawson noted acerbically, ‘the Yankee sanitised “Trail” nonsense we hear it called now’.

  The Militia men’s first significant physical test was Ioribaiwa and Imita ridges in the Owen Stanley mountains. Even before this ordeal, some of the troops were suffering from chafing, bad knees, vomiting and sheer exhaustion. Some had to be helped. At one stage Dawson had to carry one of his men’s rifle and all his equipment. The soldier was totally exhausted and continually vomiting. He also saw Captain Sam Templeton at times carrying three or four of his men’s rifles as well as his own gear.

  The Australians would take three steps, then hang on to a tree, or slide back without gaining height. Later on, this part of the mountains became known as the ‘Golden Staircase’. After the 39th Battalion passed through, the engineers cut steps and used saplings to form a rough stairway in the mud, which helped the troops who came later. A few of Dawson’s troops had to be sent back to base with bad knees and other problems.

  Apart from the ups and downs, there were the regular downpours of rain that mixed with your own sweat so you were never dry. Other joys we encountered were lawyer vines, nicknamed ‘wait-awhile’. These had little hook-like things on their tendrils that literally grabbed your clothes, skin, whatever, and hung on. Then there were leeches that had the ability to get through your clothing into all parts of your body, including the most delicate parts, to suck your blood. If you moved off the narrow track to dodge the mud, you would inevitably walk into a large spider’s web strung between the trees with an enormous spider in the middle, usually about face high.

  Their dress at this stage was khaki shorts, shirt, boots and short gaiters, and a steel helmet. That was how they travelled, wet or dry, through Nauro, Menari, Efogi, Kagi, Isavura and Deniki. On 14 July 1942 they reached Kokoda.

  B Company remained at Kokoda for about a week, recuperating, training and doing patrols around the area. Dawson’s job was to organise the disbursal and distribution of ammunition, including the priming of boxes of hand grenades. This meant unscrewing the base plug of each grenade, inserting the J shaped fuse and replacing the base plug—a delicate operation.

  Meanwhile, Captain Sam Templeton had gone down to Buna to meet a coastal trading vessel, the Gilli Gilli, which was carrying the troops’ kitbags and stores from Port Moresby. ‘These were brought to Kokoda by native carriers, who were later referred to as “Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels”, as apart from carrying stores, they played a major role in carrying out the badly wounded,’ Dawson said.

  On 21 July 1942, a cruiser from the Japanese task force which had left Rabaul on 19 July began shelling the Sanananda and Gona area in preparation for an amphibious landing. According to Dawson, ‘Our military hierarchy didn’t have a clue this was happening until they were advised by air-raid spotters on the day of the landing.’ The next day, Allied planes bombed the beachhead, sank a landing barge, and damaged a transport ship that ran aground on Gona Beach that Dawson believes is probably still there. Apart from that, the landing went ahead unhindered and unopposed.

  The initial Japanese landing force was about 2000 combat engineers, including the battle-experienced Yokohama Advance Butai, whose job was to prepare the way for an overland, large-scale attack on Port Moresby by the Nankai Shitai, the conquerors of Rabaul. They also had with them 1200 conscripted native carriers from Rabaul, pack horses and mountain artillery.

  At this time there was a small patrol of the Papuan Infantry Battalion (PIB) who were observing the enemy movements in the area. They had neither the numbers nor the firepower to offer any resistance.

  Sergeant Joe Dawson was soon in the thick of the action. On 24 July he and his unit arrived at Wairopi to back up 11 Platoon which, with some elements of the PIB, had fought a rearguard action back to Kumusi River. The platoon joined Dawson’s unit on the west side of the fast-flowing Kumusi River, over which hung a cable suspension bridge—wireropei in Pidgin English.

  Although the Seventh Division had returned to Australia in mid-August 1942 from the Middle East, and the Sixth Division later in August, there was no immediate effort by the Australian government to send the returning AIF men to boost the Militia fighting the Japanese advancing on Port Moresby. The War Cabinet was still fearful that there would be an invasion of mainland Australia, and were holding the returned men in reserve. However, on 26 August two battalions from the Seventh Division were sent to boost the exhausted Militia men of Maroubra Force. By September, the Japanese had reached the village of Ioribaiwa only 20 miles from Port Moresby!

  Those ke
y battles on the Kokoda Track were the Militia’s finest hour, and Sergeant Joe Dawson and his 39th Battalion were in most of them.

  Sam Templeton left the Wairopi position and headed towards Kokoda to meet the new commanding officer of the 39th Battalion, Colonel Owen. He was arriving by plane from Moresby. Major Watson—the Papuan Infantry Battalion commander—had also joined us at Wairopi and was now the senior officer in command. Our small force took up a defensive position undercover along the bank of the river and were told to hold fire. I had swapped my rifle for a Thompson machine gun with a 50-round drum magazine and taken a spot among the greenery just to the right of the bridge. Allan Collyer was nearby. He had been trying to work out a way to destroy the bridge.

  The Japanese appeared on the eastern side of the Kusumi River at about 2.20 pm. Dawson could see them at the bridge entrance. First one scout, then another, walked onto the bridge, then a third one joined them. They seem to be having a conference. This seemed too good an opportunity to miss, and one of the Australian Lewis gunners ‘got an itchy trigger finger and fired’, so everyone else joined in.

  I saw one scout go down but I’m not sure what happened to the other two. We had no mortars but they did, and they brought them into action very quickly. With reasonable accuracy, numerous mortar bombs landed close to and behind our position. It’s true to say I really didn’t like being in the thick of that action. We continued to fire at any head that appeared on the opposite bank and also in the direction of their mortar smoke, but their barrage only got heavier. It became obvious they were moving along the opposite bank, searching for another place to cross the river and flush out our position. No doubt they were assessing the firepower of our small force.

  At that point a runner slithered up through the undergrowth and by way of greeting said, ‘What’s the state of your underpants, Sarge?’ Before Dawson had a chance to reply, he went on to say that Captain Stevenson wanted the company headquarters to move back and join 12 platoon at Gorari. Both 11 Platoon and Major Watson were ordered to destroy the bridge and follow as soon as possible.

  An ambush was set up at Gorari as a delaying tactic. This proved successful as quite a few Japanese soldiers were killed, which slowed down their forward movement. Dawson’s group then pulled back to Oivi. Colonel Owen had returned to Kokoda to meet two more companies, who were flying from Moresby. He left Sam Templeton to set up a defensive position at Oivi. ‘When I arrived there, Sam Templeton, who was talking to Stevenson, told me to get two men and go with Stevenson to Kokoda and return as quickly as possible.’

  Unfortunately, the two extra companies did not arrive—the air force could not supply the planes to carry them in. However, two DC3s were provided and a platoon from A Company flew to Kokoda under the command of Lieutenant Doug McLean. He arrived at Oivi with half his platoon and only one Bren gun. The other half of his platoon followed in the second plane.

  By mid-afternoon the Japanese had arrived and were fired upon, which halted their advance. Then followed a lot of firefighting as they probed the left flank. A few Japanese were calling out silly sentences in English. One, Dawson recalled, was ‘Come forward, Corporal White.’ That was responded to by a hail of hand grenades from the Australians in their direction.

  Later in the afternoon, Captain Sam Templeton was concerned that the other half of McLean’s platoon would be ambushed, so most unfortunately, as it turned out, he went back along the track towards Kokoda alone. There was a burst of gunfire from this direction and he did not return. That also indicated to them that the Japanese were gradually surrounding their position.

  As the night wore on, the battle intensified. The mortars were falling regularly and it was obvious the Japanese had indeed cut off the track to Kokoda. The position was now rather desperate—ammunition nearly gone and the grenades were all but used up. At one stage Doug McLean and another soldier moved out on the flank and around the Japanese positions and pelted a few grenades down on them. They knew they hit a target because of the yells and screams. Dawson recalled their dire situation:

  It seemed to me at the time that we were on the verge of being wiped out. We were totally outnumbered and thought our only hope was to make a sudden charge along the track towards Kokoda and hope for the best. However, Major Watson, who was now in charge of the force, had with him a Papuan policeman by the name of Sinopa. He said he could lead us out through an area where the Japanese positions were the thinnest. The word was passed around to move out quietly in single file, holding the bayonet scabbard of the man in front, as it was pitch black. We went down the cliff face into a valley, following the course of a few streams. We were cold, wet, tired and hungry.

  When daylight arrived they realised they had not travelled very far as the sounds of battle at Oivi could still clearly be heard. A few men had not received the message to move out and they were continuing to do battle with the Japanese. ‘When it dawned on them what had happened they did a quick runner, most of them turning up a few days later.’

  The intention was to move parallel to the Kokoda Track, cut back on to it and rejoin the troops left at Kokoda. But it was soon obvious that would not be possible as the jungle was impenetrable. They followed a different track instead, which brought them into Deniki. On arrival there someone gave Dawson a small tin of baked beans. ‘My poor neglected stomach could not handle food and I promptly threw it all up.’

  While the action at Oivi was underway, Colonel Owen had decided to tactically move the men he had at Kokoda up to Deniki, where there were stores and an ammunition dump. When Dawson’s group arrived there, Owen then decided they should move back and occupy Kokoda. After an issue of rations, ammunition and grenades, they headed back to Kokoda, where they feverishly began setting up defence positions, digging weapon pits with whatever scarce tools were available.

  Our force now numbered about 70. We were spread around the three sides of the Kokoda Plateau with a few troops covering the rear towards the track up to Deniki. Most of our automatic Lewis guns and a couple of new Bren guns were located at the top of the ridge on the narrow end of the rubber plateau, where the track from Oivi came in. This was where the Japanese would most likely arrive. We could see the landing strip below the plateau to our left flank. It was strewn with 44 gallon drums and logs and nothing could be done to clear it as we had insufficient troops. We also, unfortunately, still had no mortars.

  Later that afternoon the Japanese arrived from the Oivi track. After engaging the Australians, they started moving around the end of their perimeter, firing bursts from different directions and throwing in a few rounds of mortar fire.

  The mortar barrage grew heavier, some hitting the rubber trees and exploding in the air. Being on the wrong end of a mortar barrage is quite frightening. You hear the ‘cough’ like sound as they are fired, then for a fraction of a second there is a swish of air followed by the ‘boom’. Once you hear it your mind starts to think, will the next one blow me to bits? Or, will I lose my legs? It’s a long walk back to Moresby with no bloody legs.

  The Japanese mounted their first offensive in the early hours of the following morning. They came up the slope in the partial moonlight while a mist of rain fell. And they kept coming, yelling and screaming, charging up the slope, ready to die for their emperor. The battle raged for some hours. Apart from the Japanese mortars, it was a small arms, grenade and hand-to-hand fight. The noise was deafening. Soon, with superior numbers and firepower, they broke through the Australians’ thin line.

  Almost all the ammunition had been fired, but most of their wounded had been moved out to Deniki. Colonel Owen had been wounded with a bullet in the head and died. Major Watson of the Papuan Infantry Battalion was now in charge and he ordered a withdrawal to Deniki. It was still dark and the situation became chaotic, with Japanese appearing all over the place. It was an extremely difficult operation getting the troops out, considering they had no two-way radios at that time.

  Upon reaching Deniki we regrouped and checked our number
s—the living, the dead, the wounded and the missing. The balance of the 39th Battalion companies were now arriving at Deniki, including a new commanding officer, Major Alan Cameron, who was now in charge of Maroubra Force. He apparently had a predetermined opinion of the company before he even knew what had occurred at Kokoda. Perhaps he thought we should have defeated the whole Japanese army on it on our own! Anyway, we were placed on reserve at Deniki. He then decided, without sending any patrols out, to check the lie of the land, so to speak, to counter-attack and retake Kokoda.

  A Company was dispatched and they moved back into Kokoda without opposition. The company moved out on the right flank with the intention of cutting off the Oivi track but they ran into strong opposition and could not move forward. C Company moved out towards Kokoda on the left of the main track. However, the main Japanese forces had left Kokoda and were moving into Deniki. As a consequence, C Company could not maintain their forward movement, but they did delay the Japanese attack on Deniki for a short period as the Japanese commander had to send some of his force back to retake Kokoda. A two-day battle ensued and A Company, with little ammunition and no support, suffered the same fate as B Company had earlier and were eventually overrun, extricating themselves as best they could. Neither C nor D companies were able to fight their way through to their objective and eventually they withdrew back to Deniki.