How 250 Rabaul Refugees Were Rescued

in New Britain in March, 1942

By A. P.H. Freund

DURING the night between March 4 and 5, 1942, four small vessels were creeping from the mainland of New Guinea to a rendezvous at Rooke Island, which lies off the western end of New Britain. This was the first leg of what looked like a fore-doomed expedition, but which actually turned out a complete success, and was instrumental in rescuing all that could be found of the remnants of the Rabaul Garrison.

A short outline of the situation will be in place. The hopelessly outnumbered Rabaul Garrison had been overwhelmed by the Japanese invaders on January 22.

VJZ (the Rabaul radio station) went dead, and for weeks the rest of the world asked in vain: What tragedy has hap pened at Rabaul? In due time, we found out.

On February 18, Messrs. V. Neumann and A. Zacher, and the writer (i.e.. the whole staff of the Australian Lutheran Mission in New Guinea at that time), besides a number of the staff of Lutheran Mission, Finschhafen, joined the Army at Lae. Within the next few days, the O.C. at Lae. Captain Simpson, received indications from Moresby of a plan to rescue survivors of the Rabaul Garrison from the north coast of New Britain. At first, the intention was to send only one vessel over to investigate. Gradually, no doubt because more definite word from New Britain had reached Moresby, the plan was altered, and a whole rescue flotilla organised.

The day before we left, the Rev. Mr.

Moore, an Anglican missionary, who later perished in Japanese hands, brought seven AIF men to Finschhafen—the first batch

to reach New Guinea of those who sur vived the fall of Rabaul.

They had tramped the full length of New Britain along the south coast. They told us that their party numbered about

JJ/E have pleasure in present ing here the first connected and authoritative account of how more than 250 refugees from the Rabaul disaster of January 23, 1942, were rescued from under the noses of the Japs, on the North Coast of New Britain, by an organisation of planters, traders, officials and missionaries. The writer is a Lutheran clergyman, Rev. A. P.

H. Freund, who was one of the rescue party, and who subse quently served in the AIF as a private soldier.

200 when they left Rabaul. All but those seven had dropped out en route, though not necessarily all died. From these men we learnt something of the tragic con dition of the hundreds of survivors, straggling far and wide on New Britain.

By the way, it is interesting to note that Rev. Moore took part in the epic escape of Wing-Commander Lereu. This prominent airman was the only survivor of a bomber that was shot down in flames near Gasmata. He had managed to reach Rev. Moore’s station, who sent him over to Finschhafen in his mission boat, where he arrived on February 19.

Vessels and Personnel. mo return to our expedition: G. C. 1. (“Blue”) Harris, well known as patrol officer in the Lae area in pre war days, was placed in charge of the expedition.

Of the three vessels which prepared at and left Finschhafen that night the largest was the “Bavaria,” the 45-ton schooner of Lutheran Mission Finsch hafen. She was manned by her peace time skippers, Dolph Obst (later killed in action at Cape Gloucester) and Dave Rohrlach, besides Bert Gazard and Harley Armitstead.

Then there was our own (Australian Lutheran Mission) vessel, the 23-ton “Umboi,” also run by her peace-time mission personnel, Vic. Neumann and the writer. Jack Goad was also allotted to the “Umboi,” and Harris decided to make her his “flagship.”

Finally there was the “Gnair” of about 15 tons, the Guinea Airways launch from Lae, in charge of Bill Money, Gus Kuester and “Snow” Blakeley.

From Madang came the fourth vessel, the 35-ton “Totol” belonging to Lutheran Mission Madang. Unlike the rest of us, her skipper, Ted Radke, was not even in the Army, yet he gladly came to take part in the rescue. He was accompanied by Ron Chugg, Andy Smith and Bob Emery.

Ted Radke lost his life as prisoner of the Japanese about two years later, when the ship, carring prisoners towards Aitape, was attacked by American bombers.

In case disaster should overtake us, a few more vessels were kept standing by at various points. There was the govern ment vessel “Thetis,” in charge of Gerry Keogh (killed in air operations in 1943), Jeff Shaw and “Blue” Cook. Then there was the government vessel “Nereus,” in charge of the veteran “Jock” Laird.

Finally, there was the “Winnon,” in charge of her owner, Chue Leong, and Alan Strachan. (If there are any omissions or mis

spelt names in the foregoing, the writer craves pardon, fer it is not intentional.) Each vessel naturally also had its native boat’s crew. These natives deserve special praise for their courage and faithfulness.

On the “Umboi,” we installed the Tele radio set which the Navy had supplied for the writer’s use as member of the Naval Coast Watching Organisation soon after the war in Europe broke out. The other vessels carried receivers only, though Ron Chugg had a home-made Morse transmitter on the “Totol.”

Situation in New Britain.

IN due time we were to learn quite a lot of the facts connected with the fall of Rabaul. The survivors told us that the expressed policy was to “fight to the finish” and to “hold Rabaul at all costs.” Therefore the men had not been given a minute’s training in bushcraft, and no food or medical supplies, nor even a wireless set had been put in the bush against a possible withdrawal.

The excuse? “If the men know that preparations for a withdrawal have been made, all they will think of is running away. We’re going to fight to the last man.”

And those who actually went into action put up a marvellous fight. As one of the lieutenants put it: “We said our little prayer and made up our minds to take as many Japs as possible into death with us. But just when we got going properly the order was passed around, ‘Every man for himself,’ so we just went bush as best we could.”

Those who had been held in reserve, and were at the barracks, could grab a bit of food and other necessities. Those who were in action escaped in what they stood up in in most cases little more than boots and shorts.

There seemed no way of escape. The Japanese cashed in on the desperate situation. They dropped leaflets from tne air wherever they thought there were Australian soldiers. Quoting from mem ory, the leaflets read about as follows:

To The Australian Soldiers.

You arc on an island. There is no food „on this island. You cannot get off this island. Come and surrender, and we will treat you well.

The Japanese

Commander-In-Chief.

Hundreds surrendered, evidently con vinced that there was no hope of survival or escape. Some appear to have been treated reasonably well. Others were simply massacred. The Tol Massacre is a notorious example of savage butchery.

But most of the survivors did not trust the Japanese promise of good treatment They were determinted to evade the Japs somehow. We have already mentioned how a party of about 200 tried to reach the western end of New Britain along the south coast. Others crossed to the north coast through the terrible mountains of the Bainings.

About a fortnight ago I met one of the survivors of that ordeal. He had been in a party of a hundred who were holding a position on the inner side of Vulcan The Japanese spies had not had time to pass on the information about that de fensive position. They expected to land unopposed.

Our men had two Vickers and a mortar.

One Vickers fired thirty-seven belts of 250 cartridges, and the other only a few belts l ess - L forgot how many hundreds of bombs the mortar fired during the engage ment In the morning our men saw that the Japs had dug themselves in. Some how it was learnt later that the reason why they dug in was that they thought they were under artillery fire. My in

formant, Olney by name, also stated that it was later learned that the Japs had lost 3,000 men in that sector. One wonders whether that figure is not too high. Our men lost only one killed.

But in the morning the hopelessness of the situation was realised. And in due time the order “every man for him self” came to that sector. Then began heart-breaking climbs, sometimes ending against 4 sheer, unscaleable walls, so that they had to retrace their steps and try elsewhere. Often they had to dodge Japs.

I mentioned to Olney that I had heard about one party who crossed the Earn ings on a spoonful of fish and a biscuit a day per man. “We crossed the Bain

ings also,” he replied, “but without the fish and biscuits.”

Hunger, dysentery, malaria and other diseases, exposure and the seeming hopelessness of it all took a fearful toll °f the numerous straggling parties. Many

had to be left behind to die or to be tX 7n S vPq t.PH d t h committed Praise for K. J. McCarthy AT the Talasea District Office, K. J.

McCarthy ADO remained at his post In due time he heard of the plight of* these men He determined to trv to save them He did not know how it was to be done But hoped that a way of escape would be found So hp set out to contact the various parties and urgethem work the™ way towards Talasea He travelled hundreds of miles venturing close to Rabaul itself his police boys scouting round to find small parties. Many of the men had lost all hope and no longer wanted to be saved. By sheer force of will-power he managed to get them on the way. He had rice and other food from his station stock and elsewhere brought to the men.

He bought pigs from the natives In places he was able to provide canoes and carriers for the sick In all this he was ably assisted by a number of old residents, of whom such names as Ken Douglas Rod Marsden, Frank Holland Bert Olander and Lincoln Bell come into mind.

At Pondo, right under the nose of the Japs they raised the “Malahuka,” one of the launches machine-gunned and sunk by the enemy. They used her to tranport food and the sick, but after one or two trips she was, unfortunately, wrecked.

By radio, McCarthy informed Moresby of the situation, what were his plans, and what he was doing. He was officially placed in complete command and his plan approved. It was to assist in this evacuation that we were sent over to New Britain.

Plans, and How They Were Crossed.

AFTER meeting at Rooke Island and spending the day there co-ordin ating plans and arranging what to do in emergencies, the second morning brought us to the Cape Gloucester area.

Here, we first met Ken Douglas, who had come from Talasea on a small pin nace to arrange food dumps. From him we learned the main points regarding what had happened and what was being done, and he gave us information vital for navigation in that reef-strewn and, to us, unknown waters.

We did not like the idea of lying at anchor in an open bay that day. There was a real possibility of Jap patrol boats or even larger craft being about. And aircraft had by then begun to come over that area on their way to Moresby almost daily.

Fortunately a low cloud ceiling’covered us that day. Our instructions were to travel only by night and to hide by day.

So far, it had been impossible to hide by day. And to those of us who knew only the coastline between Salamaua and Madang, hiding seemed likely to remain an impossibility.

But soon we were to learn that there are numerous places along the north coast of New Britain where mangroves abound, and where the water is often deep enough right up against the man groves to take such craft as ours.

But the plan to travel only by night was impossible, owing to the numerous reefs. So, again and again during these operations, our vessels had to travel by day. And even then it was impossible to avoid the reefs.

So much muddy water was being poured into the sea by the streams, that there was no deep blue or pale green water to indicate the deep and the shal

low places. The result was that every one of our boats was stuck on a reef once or several times in broad daylight.

The “Bavaria” was up for eight hours one day. The marvellous point is that Jap aircraft did not spot them. Was not the hand of the Almighty in this?

The “Totol” and the “Bavaria,” being the larger vessels, were hidden along the coast, between Iboki and Riebeck Bay.

The “Umboi” and the “Gnair” went into Riebeok Bay. Harris, Blakeley, Goad and myself took the teleradio off the “Umboi,” also rice and other foodstuffs and medi cal supplies, and crossed the base of the Talasea Peninsula to Walindi Plantation by a rough back track, which the local natives, whom we had gathered as car riers, told us was a short cut. What a track it was!

This was on Sunday, March 8. Before leaving Finschhafen we had arranged with Pursehouse that every day at noon we would listen for each other, but would call only in case of an emergency.

The bush was so dense that we had difficulty in finding a place where we could rig up the aerial without touching tree stems. And some of the carriers were straggling so far behind that it was just 12 o’clock when I switched on.

Immediately Pursehcuse came on call ing us: “Harrison and Penglaseville are gone,” was his message. “I thought it was important enough to break silence,” he added.

To have the plan of travelling only by night crossed was bad enough. But here was a worse knock.

Harris had been at Lae. Penglase had been DO at Salamaua. Pursehouse’s mes sage meant that the Japs had occupied Salamaua and Lae. And our plan had been to take the troops to Lae and move them overland to Moresby.

BUT there was no turning back now.

At Walindi we found McCarthy and a few others, including two of the troops who were in fairly good condition, and whose task it was to attend to the welfare of the men as they came through.

They were Sergeant Bert Smith and Cor poral Mac. Hamilton. Fourteen months later, by the way, I again bumped into Hamilton, then a lieutenant, just after he and Ashton and their two mates had come through a hot intelligence patrol on the Sepik, from which they literally escaped with nothing but their shorts.

It was decided that McCarthy, taking his teleradio, would do another trip up the coast to hurry the troops through.

Goad and I remained at Walindi to keep in radio touch with him and pass information and instructions on to the various parts of our organisation west ward.

Just before McCarthy left word arrived about the wreck of the “Malahuka,” so Harris went back to Riebeck Bay to send the “Gnair” around the top of the Tala sea Peninsula to assist in ferrying those unfit to walk.

About the same time we heard Purse house’s last message from Finschhafen. I just happened to be tuning in when I heard him call VIG (Moresby) and an nounce: “The Japs are about to land.

Two cruisers are standing off shore. Their barges are coming in. I’m pulling all the switches. Cheerio!”

Over two months later we learned that the Japs did not land. For some mysteri ous reason, when almost ashore, the barges turned back to the cruisers, which then sailed off. But Pursehouse had smashed his teleradio and withdrawn to the hills with the seven AIF men whom the Rev. Mr. Moore had brought over.

And until we learned the actual facts, the Japs were at Finschhafen as far as we were concerned.

Now things began to move. Parties were arriving at Walindi daily, and after crossing the Talasea Peninsula, were fer ried on the “Umboi” to where the “Bav aria” and the “Totol” lay hidden. Some of these parties were in fairly good shape, as, for example, the one under Captain Appel. A number of the evacuees were not soldiers, and most of these were in good form.

Of the European police I remember Crawford and Crawley. Three years later I again ran into Crawley in the West Geelong town hall, where he was assisting in the launching of one of the war loans with the Royal Papuan Con stabulary Band. It is unnecessary to say what we discussed at that meeting.

Then there was also Mr. Ball, one of the senior officers of the Administration, and one of the Agricultural Department staff, whose name I just now cannot re call (possibly Froggat).

But the majority of the troops were in a pitiable condition. All of them at least had shorts to wear, though they were usually ragged and dirty. Some had boots. Hardly one had had a shave for months. There were young fellows in the early twenties with beards a foot long. A large proportion had sores and ulcers. Weakness from hunger and dis ease was almost universal. And worst of all was the total despair of a large pro portion.

Assembled at Iboki BY Sunday evening, March 15, the last batch arrived at Walindi. Among them was the Rev. Roger Brown, one of the two Methodist missionaries to escape from the Japs. It was only a day or two previously that some of the evacu ees passing through had induced him to leave, so he was in the best of condition.

The “Gnair” and Lincoln Bell’s “Aussie” brought the sick and others unfit to walk,

and proceeded around the end of the Peninsula.

Next morning, Walindi was abandoned.

Goad and I had to dismantle the tele radio and get the carriers going with it, so we were the last to leave. For five days we had been on the air as many as a dozen times a day. At times Japanese bombers were right overhead as we were transmitting. How it is that the Japs did not locate us and susnect our activi ties is nothing but a miracle.

As we turned our backs to Walindi it was with a totally different feeling from ten days previously when we met Douglas at Gloucester. We had the satisfaction that all the men who could be found were now ahead of us. The fact that there had been no interference by the Japs so far gave us great hopes for the future.

Tuesday morning, we were all aboard the “Umboi” and left Riebeck Bay be hind us. Apart from runing up on a reef, we reached Iboki safely. Here was a lively scene. Several bullocks had been shot, and groups of men were all over the place grilling, boiling, or frying the meat.

In the house Mrs. Baker, over from her plantation on Unea Island, was doing a great job attending to the sick and wounded. Here it was that we first met Harry Murray, also Morgan from Pondo.

WE now had all the men assembled.

But what was the next move? The original plan to take them to Lae had been crossed by the Jap move there.

An alternative was to take them to Boga djim and move them into the Ramu Val ley, thence to the Markham Valley and on via Wau to the south coast of New Guinea. But most of them were unfit for such a trek.

It was known that the Burns Philp “Lakatoi,” of about 300 lions, was lying low over at Witu Island. But to try to

get her through to Australia seemed hopeless.

An appeal was made to Moresby to send over a couple of flying boats to lift us all. The bay at Iboki would have been a good place to land and take off. By coming and immediately leaving again at dawn or dusk the flying boats would have run little risk from Jap planes. We would have burnt the vessels, destroyed all equipment, and left in just our clothes.

Even less than a year later the navy would undoubtedly have sent the flying boats.

But in those days such aircraft were not too plentiful, and the authorities were not keen on taking what to them looked like a risk, even though we regarded it as fairly safe.

These negotiations were mainly in the hands of Lieut. Gill. I had first met him

a little over a year previously in the Naval Intelligence at Moresby. Later, he had been transferred to Rabaul, where he handled our coast watching reports. He had come through the trek from Rabaul well, apart from badly swollen legs. Two and a half years later, on the trip from Brisbane to Sydney, I again met Gill in the refreshment room at Casino. Several hours of the journey after that were spent in clearing up a host of queries and in relating experiences since our last meeting.

Witu and the “Lakatoi”

SINCE the navy declined to send the flying boats, a meeting was held to discuss the next move. It was de cided to make the bold attempt to get the “Lakatoi’ through to Australia. The risk was tremendous, but the desperate position demanded taking risks.

Next night, the “Gnair” and her per sonnel crossed to Witu with McCarthy’s order, commandeering the ship. The fol lowing night the “Bavaria” and the “Totol” took the bulk of the troops over.

The “Umboi” had to wait. About a dozen or twenty of the troops had gone on past Iboki to Cape Gloucester. The “Aussie” was sent to bring them back.

But Gerry Keogh’s party in the “Thetis” had picked them up and taken them to Bogadjim.

Among this party was Olney (mentioned earlier in this story), who told me that they eventually worked their way in to Mt. Hagen. Part of the time he was travelling with Mr. Urquhart. He also mentioned they had been at the mission stations of Rev. J. Kuder (now superin tendent of the American Lutheran Mis sion) and of Mr. (now Rev.) P. Helbig, and was high in his praise of the marvellous “spreads” these men provided for the troops passing through, almost all the food being produced on the mission sta tions, especially fruit and vegetables.

The “Aussie” returned to inform us that this party had gone, and we reached Witu in the morning, March 21.

Around and on the “Lakatoi” there was much activity. Her cargo of copra was dumped. Hundreds of copra bags were partly filled with sand and loaded as bal last. Cattle were shot and a good supply of meat put in the ship’s refrigerator. Most of the men had shaved, and their dejec tion was disappearing. Mr. Ball took an inventory of the stores and fuel on our boats, and a portion of the fuel, oil and food from each was taken on the “Laka toi.” Each man was also supplied with a life jacket.

The “Bavaria” was stripped completely.

It was decided to leave her as a decoy in place of the “Lakatoi.” Jap planes had circled round the “Lakatoi” some weeks previously. Evidently the enemy was go ing to pick her up when it suited him.

Should planes again come around within a * day or so, and find her missing, a search might result before she had time to get out of the danger area. So the “Bavaria” was to be left in her place in the hope that the Japs, should they come round, might not notice the difference.

In contrast with the strong doubts that were held privately by many of us about the possibility of the “Lakatoi” reaching Australia safely, there was the opinion of an old gentleman named Petersen. I would guess that he must have been nearer to eighty than seventy years of age.

Consciously or unconsciously, he clearly demonstrated his conviction that he would safely reach his destination, for the suit case containing his few belongings was boldly labelled “Sydney”!

Departure WE who had come over from the main land were given the option of either going on the “Lakatoi” to try to reach Australia, or of trying to rejoin our units on the mainland.

The personnel of the “Totol” had no difficulty in returning to their unit at.

Madang (Mr. Radke and the vessel itself returned to mission duties).

Jack Goad was the only one who de cided to risk the trip on the “Lakatoi.”' The rest of us felt that she had only about; one chance in a hundred of through. Harris, Neumann, Obst and I' decided to return to the mainland and! establish a watch post on the north coast j somewhere. Smith of the “Totol” party \ was to join us at Madang. .

But there were some who decidedc neither to go on the “Lakatoi” nor to re main in New Guinea. They got the little 3 “Gnair” ready, with the intention of mak ing for Australia. They felt that she more chance of getting through than the*3 larger ship. Bill Money, Gus Kuester, Dave

Rohrlach, Bert Gazard, Harley Armitstead, “Snow” Blakely and one more, I believe, whose name I have forgotten, made up the party.

About half an hour before dark they slipped out of the harbour with a flag as big as a bed sheet flying from the mast.

Apart from the man at the wheel, they were all lined up on the deck swinging their arms rhythmically as a farewell ges ture.

When one of the officers of the troops on the “Lakatoi” saw this he called “Give them a cheer, boys!” And the hill-girt harbour re-echoed as those on the bigger ship cheered on those in the little one.

Within half an hour the “Lakatoi” also left. Actually, she was not so big, but

considering the gauntlet she had to run, she looked as big as the “Queen Mary” as she faded into the dusk.

Adventures Begin WE eight who remained assembled on the “Totol,” where Andy Smith had taken over the culinary department and turned on a sumptuous three or four course dinner to celebrate the end of our task.

All the lights on the vessel were blazing till almost midnight. Who worried whether a Jap plane was scouting around, or even a surface craft! We did some foolhardy things then, and later.

Of the men who had been helping Mc- Carthy before we came on the scene,

Douglas and Olander stayed on New Britain to watch and report further Jap movements, and to help any stragglers of the evacuees who might turn up.

Lincoln Bell remained on Witu. After a while he tried to run the “Bavaria” over to New Britain. The engine broke down, so he burnt her. These three men will again figure in later articles of this series.

For them and for us adventures had only just begun.

And what about the “Lakatoi” and the “Gnair”?

The former reached Luther Anchorage, on the northern tip of Rooke Island, next morning. .From there to Samarai was the dangerous part of her run. The Japs were at Rabaul and Gasmata, on the one side, and at Lae and Salamaua (and as far as we knew, also at Finschhafen) on the other side. Aircraft and surface craft could be expected anywhere, especially since their reconnaissance planes were ranging from Rabaul to Moresby and their bombers were doing almost daily trips.

With her maximum of 12 knots she could not get through the danger area in the 12 hours of darkness. The risk had to be taken at one end. We advised the skipper to take it at the beginning, and leave Luther anchorage about 4 p.m. so that they would be about level with Malai Island around sunset. By hugging the shore of Rooke they had a good chance of escaping the notice of passing airmen.

And if they were sunk they could swim ashore and we would pick them up later.

This plan was carried out. Ten days later we asked Moresby whether they had any news of the “Lakatoi” party. The reply briefly stated that they had reached Australia safely.

Eighteen months later I met Rev.

Brown in Adelaide. He told me that the trip had been fairly uneventful. Twice there was some excitement. On one occasion an island in the distance with a single palm on it looked like a ship. An other time a large sea bird looked like a plane in the distance.

The “Gnair” had more adventures. I have heard the story of that trip from Dave Rohrlach. I hope that he' or some one else of that party will be moved by the foregoing to describe their adven tures. Suffice it till then to say that they reached Cairns (or was it Cooktown?) safely.

Besides the 250-odd who were thus rescued from the north coast of New Britain, a similar number were collected by Lt.-Com. MacKenzie on the south coast, and were picked up in a daring dash by a schooner from Port Moresby.

The whole story of that rescue would make interesting reading, but only the barest outline is known to me, so it is honed that someone who was in it will tell the tale. r 1 it were not for the despicable stories that were published by war correspon dents at that time, I would not say what I am going to emphasise now.

Five of the 16 men, and three of the four vessels in the main little flotilla that went over from the mainland to assist in that rescue, came from the Lutheran Missions. Our boats, our supplies and our own selves were readily placed in the service of our country.

As far as I can gather I am the only ordained clergyman of any denomination in the eNw Guinea Territory area who joined the forces as a common soldier.

And while we were risking our lives to save our fellow Australians, as described in the foregoing, there were war corres pondents who could find nothing better to do than spread vicious and totally false reports accusing Australian and American Lutheran mission workers of disloyalty.