by Tony Hill
Paull suggested that the ABC should recall him from Aitape and other correspondents made similar suggestions to their editors. In fact, Paull was clearly ill and Army PR did not think he should remain in the field. He was in hospital at Aitape for two weeks with a fever, bronchitis and fibrositis in his shoulder and neck, and even he acknowledged that ‘I don’t think I am fit enough to go on over the mountains’.10 Paull returned to Melbourne in March, with the conflict with Army public relations and Rasmussen still unresolved and with a similar battle also being fought against PR on another front.
Very Little to Report – New Britain – Skirmishing with Army PR
The other campaign against Army public relations was waged by Frank Legg and other war correspondents assigned to New Britain at the beginning of 1945.
I have been forced to the conclusion that Brigadier Rasmussen, Director General of Public Relations, has deliberately adopted a policy of making conditions impossible for accredited correspondents so that the Department of Army Public Relations may secure an exclusive control of all news concerning Australian troops.11
The war correspondents on New Britain were also affected by the order that personal and business mail now be censored in the field by Army PR or an officer. It was a major cause of friction. Previously, correspondents had been afforded the privileges of officers, which included the right to censor their own mail, though of course like all other mail from the field it was subject to the occasional random check by field censors. This clearly said that there was now a loss of trust between the Army and correspondents. It was not only an intrusion: it hampered the correspondents’ ability to communicate freely with their home office, and further weakened their standing in the relationship with the military in the field.
Correspondents also faced other problems: they now had lower travel priority, PR would no longer assist them in obtaining essential supplies, the ban on talking to staff officers without PR approval was limiting their work, and they were put under the direct orders of supposedly ‘junior PR subalterns’. Worryingly, the correspondents had also been directed by Army PR to remain in New Britain for four months, covering a campaign in which they found almost no news. One of Legg’s reports from New Britain began: ‘There is very little to report during the past week from New Britain, where AMF troops are slowly and cautiously continuing their operation of bottling up the Japanese in the Gazelle Peninsula’.12 He was not alone in thinking the campaign was being over-sold by PR.
He wrote to the ABC: ‘All ranks in New Britain from senior commanders to privates were extremely hostile at Public Relation’s treatment of the news before the correspondents arrived, claiming that the campaign had been misrepresented and grossly “over-written”.’13 Legg also saw a link between the PR actions at Aitape and at New Britain – supposedly playing down AIF actions in New Guinea while boosting publicity for militia forces in New Britain. Just as for the correspondents in Aitape, it was a situation compounded of many frustrations.
Another of Legg’s complaints was the long delays getting despatches from New Britain, through censorship and via the official delivery channels back to the ABC. Legg suggested that he be recalled – in the end, he returned to Sydney in March to find that about half of his despatches had yet to arrive. Some did not reach the ABC for a further two weeks.14
The conflict with Army PR became public when Ray Paull and Don Angel of the Department of Information also returned home in March. Angel had been suspended by the DOI and, bravely but unwisely, Paull agreed to speak to the newspapers without first conferring with the ABC. He was later asked by the office of the Minister for the Army to provide a confidential report on the conflict. Again, he failed to consult with the ABC but he felt that he could not refuse, and that the true facts had to be told. ‘I felt that there was a risk that our grievances might never be rectified if the Minister on this occasion heard only Brigadier Rasmussen’s side of the case, without being previously acquainted with ours.’15
Paull appeared to have acted as much to help Don Angel and his other fellow correspondents as he did for himself, and on the principle of editorial independence from Army PR, but he was apologetic for the upset caused by going outside the proper channels. The ABC manager in Victoria wrote a strong memo in support of Paull to the ABC general manager.
Paull is an efficient and loyal officer. I consider that one of the motives which caused him to take this curious action was that of loyalty to his companions in the field and desire to ensure that Rasmussen would not have it all his own way when he told his side of the story to the Minister. One of the few advantages of war is the solid sense of comradeship which it engenders. This bond of comradeship comes above all other considerations. You know this as well as I do. Another reason may be the state of health in which Paull finds himself at present. He has been a very sick man since his return. He is chock full of Quinine and Atebrin [antimalaria medications] and looks the colour of a guinea.16
It was the end of Paull’s role as a war correspondent and though the ABC followed up the correspondents’ complaints, it was to little effect.
There is no doubt that in the last couple of months there has been mounting resentment among War Correspondents, including ABC men, over what they claim to be the unfair restrictions placed upon them at the instance of Brigadier Rasmussen. Rasmussen’s reply in most cases has been that for reasons of security, censorship and other restrictions have been imposed by the Commander-in-Chief.17
Green Hell – Aitape to Wewak
Australian troops captured Wewak about two months after the correspondents at Aitape had returned home. The Australian actions along the coast had developed into a determined advance and it was now a clearer story that could apparently be told with fewer restrictions. In mid-April, Fred Simpson travelled from Aitape by barge along the coast, joining up with the troops pushing towards Wewak. ‘For the fighting troops who have had to fight their way to where I am at present, the going has been tough.’18
Simpson was unable to travel with any recording gear but sent despatches on the Australians’ progress from several points along the way and, at this later stage of the campaign, his scripts included some details of places and distances that would have been censored from correspondents’ scripts a couple of months earlier. Close to Wewak, he was listening to the radio for wider news of the war.
It doesn’t look like being a quiet night. Again our artillery start searching. But it’s seven o’clock, time for the news, and news is good. It looks like the end of the war in Europe. No, we don’t hear anything about Wewak. This hellish business doesn’t make headline news.19
Following the capture of Wewak on 10 May, he wrote to Molesworth.
To say that it has been bitterly hard is rather to understate it. It has meant day by day marching with full pack, and climbing, well it’s hard to believe . . . Sometimes I thought I should never get through. However, I’m well, and managing to keep the old malaria suppressed sufficiently to get by.20
Fighting was continuing around Wewak and on 14 May Simpson was again with the Australian soldiers as they fought for control of a ridge marked on the maps simply as 701. Hill 701 was part of the chain of ridges overlooking Wewak and was held by concealed Japanese positions and snipers.
Here it comes. There’s the sound and explosion of the enemy automatics. Around where we are, the white blood of the trees spatters as the bullets penetrate deeply into the tall trunks. How can men live through the hail of lead. They do. There is the answering fire of Brens, Owens and rifles. Men kneel behind trees and crawl forward on their bellies. But the terrible volume of enemy fire does not seem to slacken.21
Simpson made a point of being as close to the fighting as possible for his reporting, so that he heard the whine and tearing sound of artillery shells overhead and felt the ground shake as they hit and as the tops of trees crashed to the ground.
Again there is the call for stretcher bearers. Many urgent and serious calls this time. A runner now with the
call from the OC for more ammunition. A few yards from the starting point and one of the carriers is shot in the back – his task falls upon other shoulders. That enemy sniper is somewhere in the dense overhead foliage – he cannot be found.22
His report of the encounter at Hill 701 concludes simply ‘the courage of these men is beyond exaggeration.’ A second report describes the trek later that day through the failing daylight and into the long hours of night, with the native stretcher bearers and soldiers, taking the wounded back from the frontline.
Everybody’s cigarettes and everybody’s water bottle are for everybody else. Already we can see there is little hope for some. The doctor is here and the splintings are being fixed. To those that need it the hypodermic is being administered. It is necessary relief from pain. It is nearing darkness too . . . We move forward through the glutinous mud and a step at a time. As we move, we pass back the word to the man immediately following – ‘Moving forward a little’ – then – ‘Stop behind’– and so it goes on. Above the noises of the night jungle there is the moan of one of our seriously wounded. We doubt if he will make the journey. We feel for guidance to the signal wire at our feet. We cannot see – we slip and slide everywhere . . . The upward trek begins. We must climb like animals on all fours . . . It seems hours before we make the top. Willing hands lift us over the last few yards.23
Len Edwards had now joined Simpson and they recorded the actuality of bombing strikes and artillery fire on the ridges above Wewak. This was the last Australian campaign on the island of New Guinea and ABC listeners back in Australia heard the sounds of battle, and the voices of the spotters at infantry headquarters talking over signal wires to the artillery command post, reporting the success of the attacks.
Simpson and Edwards were camping in a tent at the Wewak airfield, recording Fred’s stories and interviews with soldiers when, one morning, Japanese guns opened fire from the nearby hills. ‘And the first thing that happened was that the tent was blown to smithereens and also the equipment was blown to pieces.’24 Simpson yelled for Edwards to jump into an old shell hole and when they emerged they found the amplifier for the recording kit had been completely destroyed and other equipment damaged. Simpson cabled the ABC:
RECORDER SMASHED SHELLFIRE ALSO PERSONAL EQUIPMENT STOP EDWARDS SELF OKAY STOP USEFULNESS HERE ENDED EDWARDS MUST RETURN SYDNEY STOP HEAVY EQUIPMENT LAE USELESS OUR PURPOSE . . . 25
Some time later, Edwards arrived back in Sydney to replace the damaged equipment. Simpson believed the only real value of being at Wewak now was to record interviews with the soldiers but he no longer had any recording equipment. His ability to provide news was hamstrung by the competing stories being sent by Army PR which were available for use by any of the papers or radio stations. He wrote (in capital letters emphasising his feelings): ‘it is impossible for me to cover news from this area, since PR make direct use of army channels, and I assume it arrives in Sydney at least forty-eight hours before correspondents can get stuff out.’26 He also pointed out that, ‘We cannot compete with GHQ as another factor in the situation, although time and again their stuff is inaccurate.’
Chapter 15
THREE PIECES FOR OBOE – BORNEO
From May to July 1945, Australian forces carried out three major landings at Tarakan, Labuan and Balikpapan, with the codenames of OBOE. The Borneo Campaign did nothing to advance the final defeat of Japan and was a costly loss of Australian lives, but with MacArthur and the Americans now carrying the war towards Japan itself, it captured the valuable oil fields on Borneo, freed prisoners of war and civilian internees and gave Australia a high-profile combat role in the last months of the conflict.
Hello Everyone – Tarakan
Frank Legg and Bill MacFarlane boarded HMAS Manoora at Morotai as the invasion force assembled ahead of the assault on Tarakan. Legg had in mind a complete recording of the amphibious operation from the planning stage to completion and he was very upbeat when he wrote to Molesworth at the ABC to ‘be ready for what will probably be the best stuff I’ll ever do’.1 Through the assistance of Navy PR and mates in his old battalion, the 2/48th, which was part of the landing force, he made arrangements to land the imperturbable MacFarlane and the recording equipment in the fourth wave so that Legg could be recording on the beach ‘two hours after the first Australian set foot on Tarakan’. Legg wrote optimistically: ‘If all goes according to plans, not only will I see more than any other correspondent, but we’ll have the equipment where it’s never been before – & our actual recordings should be very close behind the newspaper despatches.’2
General Blamey’s off-the-cuff address to the troops was one of the first things recorded by Legg and MacFarlane. ‘You are going to have another run. I know you got very, very tired of waiting in Australia, and it is very boring to go on with too much training. But you are really going now, for the first time since we left the Middle East, on to foreign soil again.’3
On 1 May, Legg went ashore at Tarakan with members of the 2/48th, following the platoon led by Tom ‘Diver’ Derrick, who had been awarded the VC at Sattelberg. ‘Pin-points of light erupted all along the shore-line, where bombs burst, and great mushrooming clouds of black smoke poured skywards. Soon a dense pall hung over everything, punctured by sheets of orange and yellow flame.’4 Legg met up with MacFarlane amid the confusion on the beach but they could not set up the recording gear in the mud, oil and slime. Instead they cadged a lift in a jeep from the 2/48th and, in the partly destroyed concrete shell of a radio station, began recording.
Hello everyone. I’m broadcasting to you, very appropriately, from what was, until about three hours ago, the radio station on Tarakan, off the coast of Borneo. Tarakan is ours! We landed this morning at 0815 hours, and the situation is now thoroughly under control . . .5
Legg handed over the recorded discs and his despatches to Army PR and he and MacFarlane commandeered a native handcart to carry the recording gear to the frontline HQ. It was only later that they found out the Japanese had planted explosives throughout the building where they had made their first recording. On 3 May the GHQ communiqué released the news of the Tarakan landing and Legg continued to record and file despatches.
I am sending this message at half-past six on Saturday evening, and I’ve just witnessed the capture of Rippon Ridge on the other side of the Tarakan airstrip, which means that the main objective of this campaign, the capture of the strip, has been accomplished in four days from the landing.6
Legg advanced with an Australian platoon towards Rippon Ridge immediately after its capture. He was given the task of carrying the walkie talkie and something even more important, the platoon’s priceless ration of tea. They advanced slowly through the grass, lifting their feet high over trip wires that might be connected to mines. Legg wrote down family messages from a platoon holding the airstrip and included them in his recording sent that night, which was broadcast two days later. It was one of the few recordings to actually get through.
Up to the capture of the airstrip, on 5 May, I had despatched nineteen quarter-hour recordings, covering every phase of the planning, execution, and success of the campaign. By 10 May, the ABC had received one solitary disc, containing General Blamey’s address of 25 April, followed by the story of the capture of the airstrip. My cabled news despatches had come through all right, but I had been ‘scooped’ by every other correspondent.7
The disastrous delay in delivery of Legg’s discs through the Army channels was topped by a lack of resources available to PR, which restricted the support they could provide in the field. The complicated requirements for recording in the field made the ABC a logistical headache for Army PR officers, but by contrast, Legg found Navy and RAAF PR very helpful. However, he was also pushing boundaries: one of his letters was censored to remove references to the base at Morotai; a script in which he argued that more air and naval support should have been used at Tarakan was cut so severely that it could not be used; and he then wrote a scathing but deliberately self-d
efeating script entitled Why I sent Such Brilliant Recordings from Tarakan. As everything seemed to be going wrong, the ABC’s Bob McCall intervened and advised Legg to recapture his usual sense of humour.8
Mad as a Rattlesnake – Brunei Bay
The next landing was on Labuan Island in Brunei Bay, on 10 June, and Legg again had a brilliant plan for covering the operation. He arranged for the ABC recording gear to be on the first jeep put ashore from the landing craft (LST), about three hours after Legg and Bill MacFarlane had gone ashore to catch up with the first assault waves.
On the beach we were greeted with the news that everything was going perfectly, except for one LST that had ‘landed’ in the wrong place. When the first jeep had driven down the ramp, it had disappeared into fourteen feet of water. They had managed to fish the driver out, more dead than alive; then the LST had reversed, and beached at the right place. The jeep was the only vehicle in the convoy to be lost.
Bill grinned. ‘Bet some bloke whose gear was in that jeep is as mad as a rattlesnake now,’ he remarked.
‘You blokes probably know him,’ our informant said, ‘seeing you’re war correspondents. That jeep was the one with the ABC’s recording gear in it!’9
It was crushing news but Legg carried on, sending his first news despatch of the 9th Division landing in Brunei Bay.
Our troops landed on both sides of the tip of Brunei Peninsula, the southern arm of Brunei Bay, and also adjacent small island of Muara which overlooks these beaches. Simultaneously another force from Ninth Division landed on the southeast tip of Labuan Island off the northern arm of Brunei Bay. Thus a pincer movement has begun, aimed at securing the whole coastline of Brunei Bay and thus placing the only good harbour, and certainly the biggest in Borneo, at the disposal of British, Australian and American fleets and seaplanes.10