Anton Ringel Leaves Papua

By GEORGE H. JOHNSTON , “Argus” War Correspondent in New Guinea.

FEW theatres of this war have pro duced such a spate of human stories of adventure as New Guinea has, but few stories are as moving as the strange drama of Anton Ringel, 82-year old Czech miner, which has just ended after 45 years.

It ended when an unkempt figure in torn grey trousers and a stained felt hat barely covering a great mane of uncut silver hair walked barefooted into Port Moresby to board a ship that would take him out of the land that had given him nothing but hardship and sorrow for almost half a century.

War had done what personal tragedy, uncivilised natives, hunger, and disease had failed to do—drive the old man away from the primitive shack on the top of New Guinea’s towering mountains.

RINGET. first came to New Guinea in 1897 after having failed to find gold in the Louisiade Islands. Alone, except for native carriers, he fought his way through hostile tribes to the top slopes of 13,000-foot Mount Albert Edward, where he set up his prospecting plant and made his home. He made one fortune and lost the gold on the trip to the coast. He made a second fortune, and this time went on a visit to Austria.

But the Great War broke out. Ringel lost all his money, and was conscripted for an Austrian labour gang. He was married soon after arriving in Austria, and raised a family, but the call of New Guinea was too strong. In 1924, with his 14-year-old son, he returned to the island and to his tumbledown shack up in the

mists and rains of Mount Albert Edward.

The field was almost worked out, but Ringel would not leave. The old man and his son stayed on in that awful soli tude, with only native labourers for companions.

It was too much for the youngster, who went insane. Old Ringel sent him to an asylum in Queensland, where for years he paid for his treatment out of meagre earnings. What little was left over after his labourers had been paid went to his wife in Austria. The son died six years ago. Ringel stayed on in his mountain eyrie. When he needed stores he walked barefoot through mountain jungles to loma, 40 miles away.

THE Japanese landed at Gona and moved up the Kokoda track; the old miner was cut off. At first he refused to leave, but eventually he was persuaded to come to safety. Travelling barefooted over the mountain summit and through jungle, he reached a coastal village, where he immediately marched up to the military officer in charge to ask permission to return to his mine. His request was refused gently, and he was advised to go to the mainland for a while.

Ringel quietly accepted the decision, lifted his few belongings wrapped in soiled calico on to his thin shoulders and marched up the wharf with the sunshine gleaming on his great mop of silver hair.

Then he turned round and called out: “I’ll be back soon.”

And Anton Ringel left the Territory.

Those who watched him go wondered whether he would come back again.