Larrikins in Khaki

by Tim Bowden

  Cameron now decided that Isurava was the best place from a tactical point of view to hold the enemy. All that was left of the battalion moved into positions at Isurava and dug in, a difficult task without proper tools—we used bayonets, hats and hands. About this time Cameron got the boot and Colonel Ralph Honner arrived and took over command of the battalion. The company also received a new Company Commander, Lieutenant Bevan French. Captain Stevenson was sent back to Moresby and Gough Garland took his job as 2IC.

  Large flocks of cockatoos were flying around screeching, no doubt stirred up by the Japanese movements and preparations for their attack. It is now known that by this time the Japanese had landed more troops at Gona and Buna, including artillery, horses and native carriers. They now had a reported 3000 troops on the move in the area, with only a depleted 39th Battalion between them and Port Moresby. The 53rd Battalion was to give support on the right flank but they were ambushed and several of their senior officers killed, so they had to make a disorganised withdrawal. ‘Nevertheless,’ Dawson said, ‘we had been told and had high hopes that reinforcements were on the way. We knew that a big battle was imminent and we had to hang on no matter what.’

  Dawson’s B Company formed part of the battalion perimeter across a new track on a small ridge that ran up from the main track towards Naro Ridge. Their company headquarters was situated to the rear of the platoons, close to the main track behind a large fallen log. Dawson had to make various trips to these platoons, checking and taking some ammunition in the early stages until no more was available.

  Then the mortars and shells started to fall. This was followed by the ‘woodpeckers’—Japanese heavy machine guns—then a bugle call. Suddenly they came, wave after wave, screaming and yelling, bayonets flashing, light machine guns and rifles blazing. The air was full of lead. The cacophony of sound was beyond imagination and men were dying by the dozens. There was attack after attack on all fronts. B Company was bearing the brunt but their casualties went from a few to a flow. A platoon runner came in to say that some Japanese had got through the perimeter so the company runner and Dawson took off after him.

  The platoon runner was well ahead and Dawson was close behind the company runner when the Australians came up over a slight rise that dropped to a narrow track. Suddenly the company runner fell down and Dawson fell on top of him. ‘At first I thought he slipped, then I realised by the funny sounds he was making that he’d been shot. At that moment I saw a Japanese head and shoulders pop up through the scrub.’

  Dawson fired two quick shots and lost sight of the Japanese. He dragged the wounded runner back into a small depression and threw a grenade to where he’d last seen the Japanese soldier and waited for it to go off. There was no return fire but he thought he may be lying ‘doggo’, so threw another grenade. There was still no reaction from the enemy. This meant that Dawson ‘had to check up on him’ because he was inside their perimeter at the rear of one of their depleted platoons. He circled around carefully and eventually discovered two dead Japanese soldiers. ‘At least one of the grenades had been accurate and had made a horrible mess of the two of them,’ Dawson said.

  I then ran back to our runner who was dead—he had taken at least one bullet in the head. I tried to lift him but he was too heavy for me to get high enough to carry. Fortunately a small patrol came from one of the other companies. They were on their way to battalion headquarters to report that their situation was precarious as they had been overrun. They quietly picked up the dead runner and carried him back. At this stage I heard Japanese bugle calls and whistles. Then followed a seeming easing of small arms fire from their direction, although the mortars and mountain guns continued their fanfare of death. The bugle call was obviously a signal to pull back and regroup for another attack, which soon came.

  At company headquarters a runner from battalion headquarters had arrived with a message for the company commander. The runner was kneeling on one knee and referring to the falling mortar bombs when he said, ‘Geez they’re rockin’ in ain’t they!’ Dawson thought it a rather odd remark at the time. The 2/14th Battalion had arrived, the intention being to relieve his battalion and mount a counterattack. However, they were having difficulty holding their positions but were instructed to hold on at all costs.

  The Japanese mortars were devastating. I recall, apart from the many other casualties, one chap who came out on a stretcher. A bomb, either mortar or grenade, had landed near his feet and I remember thinking that one of his feet looked like a big red flower. It was a horrible mess. Another casualty that stuck in my mind was a bloke who was badly wounded, pale and in shock. I remember thinking how young he looked. His bearers decided to move him below the track to try and dodge the mortars and gunfire. I gave them a hand to get the stretcher over the edge safely as there was a sharp drop off the track into the jungle.

  Suddenly a Japanese soldier appeared seemingly from nowhere. Dawson barely had time to fire off one shot in his direction, but a colleague near him had a Thompson machine gun and fired a burst. The Japanese soldier was dead by the time he hit the ground.

  The 2/14th Battalion couldn’t hold on. They received orders to withdraw and regroup at another position, referred to as the Isurava Rest House. This movement was carried out at night. It was an extremely difficult exercise, carrying what stores and ammunition they could and ferrying out the wounded, while slipping and sliding in the mud, wet, hungry and completely exhausted.

  ‘We continued the withdrawal to our new position,’ Dawson wrote. ‘The going was tough and we were quite dispirited. On arrival someone had a fire going and I managed to find a large dixie and a bag of rolled oats. I cooked up a pot of porridge, which was pretty lumpy but we enjoyed it in spite of that.’

  By this time some of the 2nd AIF reinforcements had reached the fighting. The next day the most unfit were sent back to the rear at Myola. The battalion strength was now down to 250, with B Company (Joe Dawson’s company) numbering only thirteen. In the meantime, the Japanese had moved around the flank of the Australian positions and were attacking the rear, which just happened to be B Company’s position. There was an initial enemy breakthrough but fortunately another company came to their aid to strengthen the position, followed up by the 2/14th Battalion. The attacks continued with ferocity and by late afternoon they were again ordered to withdraw. This became a chaotic situation.

  The Japanese were pressing right in on our rear. We got to Eora Creek, where we were stationed to cover the withdrawal of the 2/14th and 2/16th Battalions but this was an extremely difficult situation. We were surrounded by high mountains and the Japanese had moved very quickly and had the advantage of high ground. They had outflanked and passed some elements of the 2/16th Battalion, which left those troops cut off. Those men did, however, manage to find another creek crossing and get around to their own battalion. We then had to climb up a steep slope from the creek to the village up top while being shot at from the mountain on the other side of the creek.

  This happened to be the last action of the 39th Battalion in the Owen Stanley Range. On 1 September, Brigadier Arnold Potts ordered the 39th Battalion on to Kagi, one of the higher spots on the track over the ranges, to hold a position there until relieved by the 2/27th Battalion. Because of the battalion’s small numbers Colonel Honner reorganised this into two composite companies. Dawson’s group, No. 1 C Company, took up a position about two hours walk from Kagi, while No. 2 C Company moved up into Kagi village and were joined by the battalion headquarters, regimental aid post and some walking wounded from Myola. Dawson recalled, ‘On the way to Kagi we had the doubtful pleasure of being bombed and strafed by a group of American Cobras!’

  During the night Dawson’s company were ordered to move to a new defensive position south of Efogi. Mid-afternoon, on 5 September, the 2/27th took over their positions including all automatic weapons, grenades and rations, and they then moved to Menari. The 39th Battalion strength was now only 85!

  At Menari, Joe Dawson was able
to clean up for the first time in weeks. His feet had been constantly wet and he’d been unable to remove his boots; his feet felt dead, as though they did not belong to him. When he removed his boots (which were falling to pieces) and then his stinking wet socks, all the skin on the soles of his feet came off, stuck to the socks, leaving his feet red-raw. After rummaging in his haversack Dawson found another pair of socks and a couple of khaki hankerchiefs. All he could do was to wrap a hanky over each foot and then pull his socks on over the top of the hankies followed by the old worn boots.

  The next day, Colonel Honner called a battalion parade and advised his men of a message of appreciation he had received from Brigadier Potts, commenting on the splendid service the 39th Battalion had given under his command. Honner later wrote:

  When I glanced along the steady lines of pallid and emaciated men with sunken eyes and shrunken frames that testified to the hardships they had long endured, I saw no hangdog looks—only the proud bearing of tired veterans who had looked death and disaster in the face and had not failed. (Peter Brune, Ralph Honner)

  The immediate threat of a Japanese invasion of Port Moresby was over. It was not only supply problems that ended the Japanese push over the Owen Stanley ranges. Following reverses at the hands of US forces on Guadalcanal, the Japanese Imperial Headquarters decided they could not support fronts on both New Guinea and Guadalcanal. Major General Tomitaro Horii, who commanded Japan’s South Seas Force, was ordered by Imperial Headquarters to withdraw his troops from the Kokoda Track until the issue at Guadalcanal was decided.

  Rebuffed on the Kokoda Track in late August 1942, the Japanese still had their eyes on the Papua New Guinean capital, Port Moresby. They believed that the key stepping stone to this goal was the sheltered harbour of Milne Bay on the south-eastern tip of Papua, only about 370 kilometres from Port Moresby. The Allies had earmarked it for a base. Not only did it have a safe deep-water harbour, but three airstrips had been constructed by 1942.

  Late on the night of 25 August, a force of 2000 Japanese marines were landed to capture the airstrips. The Japanese began at a disadvantage when their troops were landed 11 kilometres east of their intended landing area, and their intelligence had severely underestimated the Allied garrison there. They believed the airstrips were guarded by only a few hundred Allied troops, but the reality was almost 9000 men including two infantry brigades—the 7th and the 18th. They also had Kittyhawk fighter bombers installed there. Although the Japanese had some initial success, reaching the eastern-most airstrip on 28 August, the Allied counterattack began to drive them back, and after nine days of fierce fighting it was all over.

  Between 4 and 7 September, the Japanese were evacuated at night from their original landing areas at Waga Waga and Wandala. Of the 2000 marines landed, only 1318 re-embarked. It was estimated that 750 Japanese lay dead around Milne Bay, and the remainder were killed trying to escape overland to the Japanese base at Buna. Allied deaths were 167 Australians and fourteen Americans. It was a significant victory, and Milne Bay remained an important staging area for the remainder of 1942.

  Field Marshall Sir William Slim later wrote in his memoir Defeat into Victory: ‘Australian troops had, at Milne Bay, inflicted on the Japanese their first undoubted defeat on land. Some of us may forget that, of all the Allies, it was the Australians who first broke the invincibility of the Japanese army.’

  In mid-September 1942 Sergeant Joe Dawson’s 39th Battalion was marched out from the Kokoda Track for a brief rest and reorganisation. They were converted to AIF establishment status for rest and retraining, and received about 100 reinforcements from the former 53rd Battalion. A few days later about 300 troops arrived from Australia. Up till then the 39th Battalion had been a totally Victorian outfit, now they had quite a number of New South Wales and Queensland troops. Around 17 September they moved to a base area to be fully armed and equipped and placed under the Seventh Division.

  But the Japanese had not given up, and Dawson’s 39th Battalion would be back in action within a few weeks. The Japanese were being pushed back and the AIF’s 16th and 25th Australian Infantry Brigades were approaching Gona and Sanananda, as two untried American regiments were moving towards Buna. One was pushing up the coast track, the other from inland in a pincer movement, but they were cut about and stopped in their tracks by the Japanese. The Australian 16th Brigade, now battle weary and down below half strength, was stopped between Soputa and Sanananda. The 25th Brigade also had their advance halted south of the Ulona River.

  Recollecting these events, Dawson wrote:

  Apparently the supreme commander General Douglas MacArthur was pushing Australia’s General Tom Blamey for a victory in the area. The 16th Brigade was not capable of mounting a sustained attack against Sanananda, so the American 126th Regiment was brought in. On arrival I believe the Yanks told the Australians they could go home now, as they—the Yanks—would fix things up quick and lively. However, they were very sharply stopped by enemy crossfire and counter-attacks.

  The Australian generals Blamey and Herring called on General MacArthur, who suggested they bring in the American Forty-First Division from Australia. Blamey bluntly said he would rather put in more Australians as he knew they could fight. Herring agreed. It seems MacArthur was not happy that both Australian generals did not think much of the fighting qualities of the US troops. In any case, he agreed to fly the Australian 21st Brigade to the battlefront, where they joined the 25th Brigade.

  Dawson said his 39th Battalion suffered very heavy casualties. The Japanese were dug in, in well prepared and well concealed bunkers with plenty of light and heavy machine guns. The two American regiments covering Gona and Sanananda did not seem to be able to move. It was obvious more assault troops were needed to crack a victory. Blamey selected the 30th Brigade, comprising the 39th and 49th Battalions and the now amalgamated 55/53rd Battalion.

  On Sunday 29 November the 39th Battalion received a movement warning order. They were issued with new jungle greens and American-style knee-high lace-up gaiters, and all their equipment and weapons were checked and extra demolition grenades issued. Dawson’s platoon was also provided with the Boys anti-tank rifle, which he thought was a very awkward and difficult weapon to carry. The .5 ammunition with which they were also issued was armour piercing. It was intended to be used against Japanese landing barges carrying reinforcements, but the opportunity never came.

  On 30 November at Port Moresby the battalion boarded DC3s (later dubbed ‘biscuit bombers’), bound for Popondetta. There was no door on the side, just an opening. They flew over the Owen Stanley ranges, which they considered was much better than walking. After landing at Popondetta and getting themselves, weapons and gear organised, they set off on their long march. Rain started to fall and they struggled through thick, clinging mud. Dawson recalled: ‘All the way along the main track were the little primitive wooden crosses, some with tin hats, marking the graves—solemn reminder of the high price in Australian lives that was being made to drive the Japanese out of this territory. However, there was no time for tears, it was just a case of boots—boots moving up and down through the mud.’

  Because of the high casualty rate at Gona with so little success, General Vasey decided to launch a flank attack on Sanananda. The 39th Battalion was detached from the 30th Brigade and, together with the 1/14th Battalion in the lead, followed a track along the coastline, which eventually fizzled out in dense jungle and swamp. With the 2/14th unable to move forward, the 39th Battalion became bunched up behind a clearing above the beach line. Two Allied aircraft, both fighters, were strafing a half-sunken Japanese supply ship in the bay, which was allegedly being used to supply the beach at night.

  Suddenly, one of the Beaufighters turned in a tight circle and came back along the beach and strafed our whole battalion! There was nowhere to go, no trees, no holes—just hit the ground and pray. The amazing thing was that the battalion suffered only five wounded. There were also two native carriers wounded. As one wag said,
‘Typical air force! Couldn’t hit a barn door.’

  As that track was impassable we had to change plans. On the night of the 3 December, we had to guard a captured food dump in case the Japanese tried to retake the food source during the night. About the middle of next day our battalion took over the positions of the depleted 25th Brigade and the Third Militia Battalion. This in itself was a difficult exercise as Japanese bullets were buzzing and crackling through the kunai grass. It was a case of run, crawl, keep as low as possible and hope for the best. The battalion we relieved moved out and we took over their shallow weapon pits. There is no doubt in my mind that the Gona campaign was the worst and most horrific battle the 39th Battalion fought. Certainly we won, but the price was terribly high. The casualties we suffered were higher I believe than in the Owen Stanleys campaign.

  At Gona the Japanese were entrenched in dugouts among coconut palms on low sand dunes. These trenches were covered with layers of palm trunks and camouflage sand and leaves, leaving a narrow slit-like opening in front to permit the firing of the heavy and light machine guns. Ahead of the Australians was flat ground, with kunai grass, some of which had been cut down to give the Japanese fields of fire.

  Dawson said he would never forget that scene:

  The smell of death, the stench of decaying bodies, the smell of the mixture of mud, blood, cordite, and oppressive heat was all around us. There were millions of green flies about the size or slightly larger than a house fly. This sting, similar to a march fly, only worse, left a little round white mark on the skin that at a glance looked as though a piece of flesh had been taken. And there were the mosquitoes and ticks. We were eventually issued with two small bottles of oily substances—one was called Mary to keep the mozzies off and the other Betty to keep the bugs off—which may have worked to some extent. Our casualties were caused not just by being killed in action but also by malaria, dysentery and, worst of all, scrub typhus.