Westward Through The Louisiades

How Planters Got Away When Invasion Threatened

AS soon os the Japanese struck at New Guinea, in January, 1942, all European residents were evacuated from the endangered Territories.

Here is an account of how a section of the people who lived in the , ..,Aii / r r. t . i. . . ...

Louisiade Archipelago (Eastern Papua) got away. It has been written by Mr. D. H. Osborne, an old resident of Rossel Island (most easterly of thp Arrhinplano) whprp hp wn? n nlnntpr nnd trndpr me /Arcnipeiago;, wnere ne was a planter ana tracer.

1 HEARD of Japan’s entry into the war and the evacuation from the Terri tories of the women and children, through my teleradio set.

I had made a trip to Samarai early in January—apart from all the women and children having gone, there was little difference there. Several young men were leaving to enlist. No one seemed to regard the situation seriously.

On January 22, about 4 p.m., at my home on Rossel Island, I heard Port Moresby calling Rabaul. There was no answer. Early next morning I picked up a warning from Port Moresby. It read: “Calling all out-stations. Situation seri ous. Stand by your sets. Abandon all work and keep a sharp lookout.”

During that day (January 23) I heard warnings from stations in the Mandated Territory and'in the Solomons. The fol lowing day there were no official mes sages.

Early on January 25, Port Moresby said they had nothing to report. At 10 a.m., I switched on again and heard Samarai calling Dobu Passage and asking that anyone in touch with Mr. George Munt should advise him to return to Woodlark Island and bring in all white residents to Samarai, without delay.

Then Samarai sent messages to all stations, some official, some private, advising all whites to proceed to Samarai.

I did not hear that Kitavo, in the Tro briands, had been bombed by a Jap plane, A message to me was the last to come over: “Total evacuation. Pick up Tom Craig, Harry Pierce and any other white men in your locality and hasten to Samarai. (Signed) Woodward.”

IT came as a surprise, but the only thing was to obey the order. Being Sun day, most of the work-boys and boat’s crew were away at their homes. I called up the boys who were handy and explained that I must leave them. I paid off all boys who were near during the afternoon.

In the morning, the remainder of the boys arrived and I paid them off. I asked them to take care of my dwelling house, and small launch and dinghy. I told them to kill any cattle they wished, and to take the poultry to their villages.

I thought the cattle, if left there, would

be good bait for the Japs, as they would be visible from the air.

My boat’s crew loaded 14 bags of copra, as ballast. I took my clothes, and £2O in cash. The goods in the store I gave to the boys.

At 11 a.m. we left Evalati, and called at Bamba, 12 miles further west, and paid off boys who were working there. I set sail at 2 p.m., and bade farewell to my home, and to the island where I had spent so many years of joy and pain.

I hurried away, because the natives were crying around me. One grows attached to people, after living among them for years. I always have had a warm spot in my heart for the Fuzzy- Wuzzies (as they have recently been called).

WE soon left Rossel Island astern and we arrived at Sudest by sundown and anchored at Rambosa. Tom Craig was anchored at ah anchorage

inside the barrier reef, and we did not see his boat until after we had gone past the passage. Craig and Pierce had not been listening to the news and were quite ignorant of the situation.

Craig sent a note across to me asking if I could delay an hour or so next morning and take some of his cargo of gum. His boat would be over, while he proceeded to Griffen Point, about 20 miles distant. Craig was buying gum around Sudest, and I used to take his and Moffat’s gum to Samarai. When Craig saw my boat passing he imagined I was ill, and on my way to Samarai.

I sent a note to him explaining the situation and urging him to hurry. I said I would go at once to Griffen Point, and wait there for them both—l would send for Harry Pierce, who was working gold at the Four Mile with a pumping plant.

When we all met at Griffen Point, they were inclined to doubt my information,

imagining that I was getting jittery.

Pierce said: “I am staying here. The war will be over in six months. What a hell of a hiding the Japs will get!”

I remained at Griffen Point, while Tom Craig gathered up his indentured labourers—they came from near Samarai. He also brought along six tons of gum. I advised him to leave it at Griffen Point.

It went up in smoke, in Samarai, afterwards, along with my ton of copra.

Early next morning we said farewell to Harry Pierce, and sailed. Nothing has been heard of Pierce since.

WE anchored at Moturina at sundown.

After anchoring, we heard a plane overhead, high in the clouds. Natives said that it previously had passed over, flying low, going towards Misima. We heard afterwards that it was a Jap.

A Sudest boy came on board our boat with a letter to Tom Craig, from R. B.

Moffat. The boy had been in Misima with Moffat/ and had been landed on

Moturina, to return to Sudest by canoe A number of canoes were going to Sudest for sago, as the drought had wiped out all the gardens along the Calvados Chain.

Moffat wrote; “I am sailing direct to Cairns, with six white men from Misima There were only five white men on Misima when we left. Others left by the available boats for Queensland.”

We remained at anchor all night and sailed at daybreak. We anchored in the Conflict group and filled our water-tank at the old station. Although it had been deserted for eighteen months, the house had not been looted. There were seven hurricane lamps and two boilers in a room there, and these are items the natives love. Many boats had called there for water, when passing, 11 JE sailed before sundown, and arrived ▼ ? in Samarai atr7 a.m. on January 30.

Five boats were just leaving for Port Moresby when we anchored. Several

other boats were anchored—their crews had deserted.

What a sad sight when we landed!

Only about 20 white men now remained, and a few native prisoners were working about the town. Most of the native police were gone. The stores had been looted, and, in the hotels, furniture had been broken up and mattresses torn and scat tered all over the bedrooms.

Several native prisoners were cooking food at the Cosmopolitan Hotel, and all the whites were having their meals there. The head cook was a man who had twice been convicted of murder and sentenced to death.

During the day we discharged our gum and copra, and stowed it in the store on the wharf.

About 8 a.m., a boat arrived from Kieta, in the Northern Solomons, with fifteen men on board. Their bedding was laid out from stem to stern, and they had been about seven days on the trip.

They stayed four hours in Samarai, got some food and fuel and moved on for Port Moresby.

I offered to return to Sudest Island, to pick up some Goodenough Island boys who were stranded there. No one knew what to do. There was lack of leaders, lack of organisation, and lack of trans port. The wireless station had closed and all the equipment had gone, also the Bank. Mack Rich had a tele-radio installed in a bough shed. The Japs had often photographed and sketched the Samarai radio station, so it was risky to remain anywhere near there. I handed over the tele-radio I had had on Rossel —it was in good order—so they were well supplied.

Different orders were being issued every few hours—some coming from Port Moresby, and some being local, ABOUT SO Rossel natives, who had been working in and about Samarai, had gone bush on Sariba. When they heard that the Rossel boat (mine) had arrived they quickly came on board. My trouble was to know what to do with the boat—all the crew were Rossel Islanders.

I could not take it to Port Moresby and leave the crew stranded. It was my duty to stand by the Rossel natives and see that they got a reasonably fair deal.

Fuel was getting low, as a number of beats from Rabaul were taking away fuel; and food was getting low, also.

On Friday night, Tom Craig and I slept on board the boat and several times we heard planes overhead. On Saturday forenoon, a Jap four-engined flying-boat spent 30 minutes circling over Samarai, at a great altitude, and then it came low—one time, it appeared to be going to land.

A 30-foot launch arrived from Rabaul with six white men on board. They had sneaked out of Rabaul as the Jap trans ports were moving in. They had rescued some airmen who were stranded on a reef near Rabaul, and had landed them where a flying-boat could pick them up.

As the launch arrived in Samarai, the Jap plane was overhead.

The RM was in charge. After the Japs arrived, he moved across to the main land, and the Collector of Customs took

charge. The latter asked me to allow him to make use of my boat to move some fuel, belonging to the RAAF, from Sama rai to the mainland. He promised that the Rossel boys would later be given enough fuel and food to enable them to return to Rossel.

Jack Gilmore, of Rabaul, owned the launch from Rabaul, and he offered Ivan Champion, Tom Craig and me a passage to Moresby. The Collector of Customs advised me to go with them.

AT 5 p.m. on January 31, 1942, we left Samarai —nine of us in a 30-feet launch. It was bright moonlight.

At 2 a.m. we anchored near Suau. We sailed again at daybreak, and by noon we were in heavy weather, so we ran into a sheltered anchorage and anchored for the night. We heard planes.

We set sail about 7 a.m., but discoloured water delayed us until the sun was bright. Off Port Glasgow a plane passed us, and we felt rather “windy” until we recognised it as a British bomber.

At noon on February 2 we anchored at Magoba. The Rev. Mr. Gilkinson was there, laid up with blackwater fever.

Although he was unable to leave his bed he invited us on shore to afternoon tea and to dinner in the evening. Ivan Champion tried to persuade him to come to Port Moresby for medical attention, but he considered that he was recover ing. We spent a pleasant afternoon, and the natives cooked us a good meal. It was with deep regret, a few days after arriving at Port Moresby, that we heard of our host’s death.

The following day (February 3) we arrived at Abau. Ivan Champion sent a teleradio to Port Moresby advising that the Rev. Mr. Gilkinson be moved to Port Moresby. At Abau we were entertained by Messrs. Lambden and O’Connor, and we spent a pleasant evening. They pro vided us with mosquito nets, and we had a good sleep in the rest-house down on the wharf. Mosquitos were in myriads at all our anchorages, and it was quite impossible to erect mosquito nets for nine on a 30-feet launch.

On the following day (February 4) we encountered a short choppy sea and rips, and we made only two miles an hour during the day; but we anchored in* a calm anchorage for the night.

Next day’s run was uneventful, and we anchored at dusk at Kapakapa. After dark a dinghy hailed us: “Put your lights out!” A half-caste came alongside, and reported that Port Moresby had been bombed, and that many had been killed.

The half-caste had taken a dinghy and had not stopped going—he said he could still hear the guns and he was going even further! We could not hear any reports of guns.

From Kapakapa we had to keep out side the reef, and the weather was beginning to look angry. Ivan Champion was navigator, and he was familiar with the reef. Near the old “Pruth” wreck a heavy squall struck us. Our launch had a very reliable engine, and it plugged away all the while.

WE arrived in Port Moresby about 3 p.m. on February 6. Port Moresby had been twice bombed. The dam age to the town was visible from the harbour. After spending a couple of hours there we moved across the harbour and anchored.

Next morning we returned to the town and officially reported. I offered to join the Army, but I was too old. We were told that in the afternoon we would receive rations and go out to the evacua tion camp. Gilmore and some others were going on westwards. Tom Craig and I were together.

I said: “I have not had any breakfast —where can I get something to eat?”

The Magistrate (Mr. Humphries) said that the hotel manager was looking for someone to help in the kitchen. He took Tom and me over and introduced us. For the next ten days I helped to wash up, and so I got some food and, when I was leaving, I received £2/10/10/-.

At Port Moresby every morning during that February, the evacuees would par ade to hear officialdom’s latest. The statement would be; “To-morrow, a steamer (or planes) will come and will land you at Cairns or Townsville—the sick and the oldest to be taken first.”

The officials were awaiting instructions from Melbourne. A few were being sent out each day by air—mostly Government officials.

At last, one morning, about 8 a.m., the “Malaita” arrived and no less than 320 evacuees embarked. A Jap plane came over the harbour about noon, but our

Ack-Ack guns opened up and the Jap made a hurried departure.

We had a pleasant voyage of about 48 hours to Cairns —where we were imme diately wrapped up in yards of red-tape.

Mr. C. A. Berendsen, CMG, has arrived in Canberra as High Commissioner for New Zealand in Australia. This is a good appointment. Australia and New Zealand jointly will be deeply interested in post-war territorial and consequential changes in the Pacific; and there is no more suitable man for the new job than Mr. Berendsen. As head of the External Affairs Department he had much to do with the Samoan and Cook Islands administrations and later, as head of the Prime Minister’s Department and secre tary of NZ War Cabinet, he was the Dominion’s ace public servant, and knows all the answers. He is a very able, hard working, courteous and approachable man, who will be well-liked in Australia.