Rabaul Policeboys'

Band

By Mrs. Dorothy Waterhouse

ALL who remember the Native Police Band of Rabaul will be glad to learn (“PIM ’ 17/6/43) that their former bandmaster, W/O D. Crawley, has been appointed bandmaster to the Royal Papuan Constabulary.

During the four years before Decem ber, 1941, the Policeboys’ Band of Rabaul grew to be a recognised part of the life of the town and I suspect that it was not only the native houseboy who was inclined to let business take care of itself when the band, with all its splendour of polished brass and big drum, led a police march through the streets!

My happiest memories of the band are of the days when, in charge of Chief W/O Sinclair and the bandmaster they took a route march over the hill to Nor dup and halted in the wide green beside Nordup Native School. Sometimes the march was announced beforehand: at other times it came as a surprise. But either way, it was recognised that as soon as the band was heard in the dis tance there would be an unofficial holi day for the rest of the morning.

Nordup School was particularly inter ested in the police, for there were sev eral “old boys” in the Force, and one or two members of the band had served a musical apprenticeship with the school drums and bugles.

After their arrival, the bandsmen would be dismissed for a swim, or a rest on the grass—with perhaps some “kulaus” provided by local friends—while their officers were refreshed with morning tea under the shady mango, which stood almost on the brink of the lapping Chan nel waters. But presently, ranged on the open roadway facing the sea, the band would play for us. Groups of intent and admiring youngsters stood in the back ground; family parties returning from garden or market would join the audi ence and then perhaps the local Luluai would stroll along, dignified and a little aloof, to bestow his patronage on pro ceedings.

The short programme was a varied one and, though a musical critic might have detected some flaws in the performance, there was for us only wonder and appre ciation as we forgot everyday cares for a while and listened to brave march or popular air, or to some simple and haunting old classical melody.

As its skill and repertoire grew, the band took part in many public functions and its music added to the impressive ness of Anzac Day and national celebra tions.

One of the band’s last public appear ances was on Armistice Day, 1941—little more than a month before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour revolutionised life for the people of New Guinea.

One cannot think unmoved of all that has since happened to many who were at that gathering—black and brown, as well as white. For the policeboys one can only hope that others, besides the band’s second cornet player, may in time “rejoin the colours” and that, in spite of all they have experienced, their faith in the white man’s ascendency in their country may be ultimately justified.