Coast Watching In New Guinea

How Officials, Missionaries and Traders Carried On In 1942

IN this instalment, Rev. A. P. H. Freund, Lutheran Missionary, continues his account of how a loose organisation of civilians, missionaries and officials, risk ing their lives far behind the Jap lines, kept a watch over enemy movements in 1942, while the American-Australian attack was being built up.

rE Wareo Mission station, some 8 to 10 miles north of Finschhafen, and by a rough guess, some 1,500 feet above sea-level, has a bracing climate.

The violence of the South-east, and the red clay, which is particularly sticky in the season of almost daily rain, were two features that did not please us so well during our four-months’ stay. By an arrangement with the native teachers in charge of the station, we got all the milk (enough even for butter) and eggs we required—for the Mission cows, fowls and ducks were still there.

The natives from nearby villages were eager to get their share of the few trade goods we had, so they supplied us with plenty of vegetables. There were some good “shoot boys” among the locals, so once a week or fortnight a wild pig would be brought in. We always sterilised some of the meat with the mission equipment, so that we did not often have to touch our small stock of tinned meat. And our bread-baking efforts were always a great success.

With all tha£ and the natives most friendly and helpful, we had quite a pleasant life at Wareo. But we knew that if the Japs suspected our presence they could soon obtain all details, for the bayonet and other things are very efficient

information-extractors. There were often tense moments, at night, when “foot steps” awakened us—until a grunt, or the crunch, crunch of a grazing cow, in dicated that our visitors were four-legged.

Our instructions were to report all ships, aircraft and anything else we could learn about the enemy. But, right from the outset, we were kept so busy report ing planes that within a few days we received orders to report only large flights going in the direction of Moresby. And since all the Japs were apparently going to Lae first, our aircraft-reporting ended.

And ships were scarce. On June 25, 1942, we reported a freighter, and were later officially notified that it had been sunk when approaching Lae. On August 28, two more were spotted, but we never heard whether they had been despatched.

We Hear Tulagi Battle

SOME excitement was provided on August 8. Pursehouse had been for some days practising Morse reading or trying to pick up American bombers or fighters communicating with one another or their base. This day he got on to something that was really lively, and soon we caught enough information to see that the Americans were landing at Tulagi.

I cannot describe the whole action as

we heard it, but it was nearly as good as a ball-for-ball description of a test match, and far more exciting. And when the general order went over again and again, “Cease bombing Tulajgi, it has been occupied by our troops,” we cheered lustily.

We hoped this was the beginning of a general advance and that soon there would be a big push to wipe the Japs off the face of New Guinea. We even imagined ourselves as a reception com mittee for the incoming troops. Just as well we did not know that Guadalcanal and Tulagi were only an experiment, and that only after all the lessons had been applied and equipment perfected could we expect a general advance.

Mail Supplies And “Mac” -

ALTHOUGH we were in an out-of-the way place, we were not isolated. On July 3, the Army passed on by radio a message from my wife that my father had died just over three weeks previously.

And every few months mail would come through, most of the letters being two to four months old upon arrival. Some came seven or eight months after being written.

During this time, Harris began to get supplies and equipment dropped on the old Saidor air-strip and, in due time, sent a share to us. Thus, on September 23, when Pursehouse returned from the about 70 miles each way trek to Sio, to meet supplies sent down to us, I at last re ceived my first issue of military clothing, etc. By that time I had been serving for over seven months, A document also arrived indicating that two months pre viously I had become a Warrant Officer.

The supply of cigarette tobacco which also came along was quite a welcome change

from finely-shredded brus, which we had rolled in cigarette paper for three months.

The most important arrival on this occasion, however, was “Mac,” alias “ Oody,” otherwise Kenneth Hood Mc- Coll. He had been a plantation manager on Matty Island, one of the Western islands. Like Pursehouse and I, he had also been in the Coast Watching Organi sation as a civilian.

With a few others, who had been left behind when everyone else fled from that area, he had managed to get a broken down launch running. They came down to the New Guinea coast, and eventually reached Madang. Bill Tupling, who was later captured and beheaded in the Arawe area, on New Britain, was also in that party. By radio, Mac had joined the Navy, and was given the rank of Petty-Officer.

The last time I had a letter from him (some months before writing this article) he stated that he intended settling down on a sheep-station in Australia. He wields a good pen, so someone should induce him to write the story of their trip from Matty to Madang.

On October 7, we received a message from Harris that another lot of supplies and mail for us was about to leave for Sio, so next day I set off to meet it. When I reached Sio, the afternoon of the third day, nothing had arrived.

I had cached most of my food on the way, to lighten the carrier loads. I had to wait a whole week until Bell and Hall arrived. Olander and party were at Kiari, so I tried to get food from them. A flooded stream blocked the messengers for several days, but they managed to get through and back by the time I was reduced to the last scrap. By the time I returned to Wareo, a whole fortnight had elapsed.

Transfer To Sattelberg

FVE days after. my return we shifted over to Sattelberg. The change of seasons meant that now there would be less cloud and fog to hinder our ob servations from there. Living conditions deteriorated, for we obtained little milk and vegetables, and the hunters rarely brought a pig.

We now had to begin giving regular weather reports. And, since Mac also had a teleradio, we could practise reading Morse by transmitting to each other with disconnected aerials. Medical work among the natives also took some of our time.

It helped to keep the natives on our side.

This was recognised at headquarters, so NAB had been among the supplies dropped for us at Saidor.

On November 12, Pursehouse left on a final trip to Sio. Harris’s party had been formed into four groups, and they were leaving the Rai coast for the ill-fated undertaking of establishing watch-posts on various points of Nef Britain. They had divided up all the available supplies, and we were to get a share.

The day Pursehouse left he sent a note back to tell us the news of a Jap machine gun attack on a canoe and village at Taml.

Yanks Come At Last

ON November 15 we spotted the first American bombers—three Mitchells.

They were slowly cruising along the coast at low altitude. Over Finschhafen they circled. As they banked, my tele scope picked up the white stars on the tops of the wings. What a thrill! Dur ing all the preceding months, every one of the numerous planes coming within telescope range had shown that dirty red blotch on its side.

That was the beginning of a complete change during the next few weeks, so that soon it became almost a rarity to

see a Jap plane, while the Yanks were coming and going freely.

On November 19 we sighted and reported two Jap cruisers. Three days later four large destroyers passed up through Vitiaz Strait.

That evening after dark, about 7 o’clock we heard planes circling over Finsch hafen. Next came the vicious hiss and thunder of five bombs, dropped in quick succession. The shock of one of them could be distinctly felt where we were.

Next day, we learnt that they had been dropped around the village of Kamlaua, just on the northern outskirts of Finschhafen, and that an injured man had died of loss of blood.

Why had the Yanks dropped bombs there? A query to Moresby brought the reply that they had been bombing a destroyer 15 miles off Finschhafen. We wondered what would have happened if

the destroyer had been only seven miles off. With similar faulty navigation they would then probably have been bombing us at Sattelberg. Actually, we believe that they saw a fire in the village, thought the destroyer they were after was burning, and let fly.

Fireworks In Earnest

VTEXT day, November 24, about 5 p.m., li we were just twiddling with the dial - of our receiver, when suddenly we heard Bell, who was on our mission station at Awelkon (Rooke Island) coming in in a great hurry on the emergency fre quency.

Not knowing his key-word, we could not decipher his message, but he gave us the clue when, at the end of his mes sage he said, “Just a moment. I forgot something. Add to that message the words, ‘Course south-east.’ ”

Knowing where he was, those words could mean only one thing—namely, that a ship or ships were on their way down Vitiaz Strait, in our direction.

We kept our eyes peeled, hoping some thing would come into view before dark.

But our luck was out.

Just after Mac and I had finished our evening meal we heard bombers come growling over, and soon a line of flares just off the coast illuminated the heavens and the sea, to be replaced as soon as they had died down. At the same time, the rain of bombs began, usually in sticks of five. Soon one of the ships was burn ing.

The Jap ships had scattered, for it was not long before there were bombs burst ing in the direction of Tamigidu, and others in the direction of New Britain.

Neither ships nor planes were visible to us. From our “grandstand” position it was just an awe-inspiring fireworks dis play. Vicious anti-aircraft fire from the ships and streams of tracers from the planes added to the spectacle.

Within an hour the magazines on the burning destroyer began blowing up, so that at intervals of half an hour or so fierce sheets of flame shooting skywards replaced the red glow. If one could have forgotten that thousands of human lives were involved, it would certainly have been an outstanding entertainment.

The burning ship had made its way out to sea, as long as it could. Though it was evidently doomed, the Yanks were still dropping bombs on it. We timed one stick. There was a long interval, so that there was no possibility of a mistake.

From the time of the vivid blue flashes, till the five-fold thunder reached our ears, it took two and three-quarter min utes. Calculating on the speed of sound, we found that they had burst just about forty miles away. Even at that distance they were quite loud enough.

By 10 p.m., the bombing was over. So Mac and I went in to play cards. While one dealt, the other would go out to keep an eye on the burning ship. The ex plosions had ceased by now. Somewhere about 11.30 it disappeared. We missed the final explosion.

Information obtained from Moresby showed that five destroyers had been try ing to get to Lae. This was part of the Japs’ desperate efforts to break through our aerial blockade. Three of the five were claimed sunk, while the other two escaped north-westwards.

Luck Of Two Survivors

DURING the action we realised that losses were probably inflicted on our side also. Sure enough, next fore noon a native runner brought a note from Rev. A. Wagner, the German missionary still at Heldsbach, that two American airmen had come ashore during the night, that they were slightly injured, that he had bandaged and fed them and put them to bed, and that as soon as they were able to travel he would send them up to us.

We immediately sent a report to Moresby, and then Mac went down to help care for them.

Next afternoon they arrived with Mac.

Wagner had supplied the one with a horse and the other with a stretcher and c^rrisrs Wagner’s report that they were “two Americans” was not quite correct. One was a Brisbane boy from the Indooroo pilly area, Johnny Graham by name. He was a wireless air-gunner. The Ameri cans were short of radio men, so most of the planes in that particular bomber group had Australian wireless air-gunners.

The other was Joe Champagne. To use his own words, “My home is in Connecti

cut in a little town of about ten thousand inhabitants—Moosup by name.”

Both were still badly shaken. Their Mitchell had crashed a few miles off the coast. How they were thrown out or scrambled out they could not recollect.

When they came to the surface they found the rubber life raft ready inflated floating beside the sinking plane. They righted it and searched for other survivors. One of their mates floated by—dead. There was no sign of life anywhere. The plane was sinking fast, so they had to cast off.

They either did not know or did not trust the breaking strain of the line.

Neither had a knife. In the darkness they could not find the one in the raft equip ment. They tried to gnaw the rope through. It was too tough, so in des peration one of them opened with his teeth the hook which joined the line to the plane.

They had no idea of where they were, beyond that they were somewhere off the north coast of New Guinea. Neither did they know the distance or direction of land. Fortunately, there were thunder storms about, and a few brilliant flashes of lightning revealed the land. They settled down to paddle ashore, but Graham found now that he could not hold a paddle. His hands were badly cut. So he gave orders while Champagne paddled.

The coast between Finschhafen and Heldsbach is composed mainly of coral shelves on which, even in calm weather, the swell breaks constantly. Here they were heaved ashore, and Johnny Graham cut his feet and knees badly on the jagged coral, for he had lost his boots.

They sat on the rock till daylight.

Then they cut up the raft in an attempt to make some sort of footwear for Johnny.

Shorts were their only clothing. They did not even have caps. They removed the chocolate and other emergency rations and equipment from the raft and hid it.

Taking the paddles with them, they struck inland.

We, to whom New Guinea has become a second home, cannot imagine how these lads —only about twenty years old —felt.

The enemy might be close at hand. At any moment they might be captured or killed. There might be hostile natives.

Or they might be far from any human being, white, brown or yellow, with the prospect of foodless and guideless wan dering.

Less than half a mile inland they came out on the Finschhafen-Heldsbach Road.

Here they saw and were seen by a native, who took them to Wagner.

When they reached Sattelberg they were again fully clad in what we and Wagner had provided for them. The native teacher in charge at Sattelberg opened one of the guest-rooms attached to the old school-house. It was several chains from the house we were in. Next morning Johnny and Joe told us they .had been scared by every little noise dur ing the night, thinking the Japs were prowling around. They asked for a gun, so we gave them a .303 with a full maga zine next evening, and with that under Johnny’s bed they slept better thereafter.

A Drop For The Airmen

MEANWHILE, we had informed Mores by, and arrangements were made to drop equipment, clothing and food for the long overland trek of the airmen to Wau, via the coast to Bogadjim, the Ramu valley and the Markham. It was arranged that the drop take place on the mission airstrip near Heldsbach, but no definite date given.

On December 2 I went down to wait.

On the sth, three Mitchells came flying low and circled along the coast and out

to sea. But they would not come in over the strip, and eventually flew away without dropping anything. We later learned that they had really not seen the strip.

Next day, they were back again. But this time, as we learned from a note in one of the packages, Leigh Vial was with them to show them where to drop.

Great was the joy of Johnny and Joe when I returned. What thrilled them most were the automatic pistols and big, gleaming machets. What intrigued us a lot was the variety and clever arrangement of the emergency equipment. There was a whole range of little metal shells with patent caps, some containing fish lines and hooks, others with matches, quinine, salt, adhesive plaster and many other things.

But our guests figured that there should have been some other items besides. A check with Moresby revealed that they had dropped one bundle more than the number we had found. So on December

10 I went down again. I met a native who had found the bundle in the bush.

While I was opening it, and making up the loads for the carriers, a Jap plane came over. I had difficulty in hiding my horse among the short secondary bush.

He went down as far as Finschhafen and came" back over us again.

He or his twin had been over the pre vious day. I feared that he might then have seen the parachute hanging on the bushes and, since it was now missing, decided to investigate.

He kept flying back and forth, coming lower with each run, and keeping me busy dodging under and around the only pair of bushes bip- enough to hide the horse. Every time he came over I ex pected the machine-guns to start bark ing.

Then he made a slightly longer run down towards Langemak Bay. So I jumped on and galloped for the bigger timber. I was barely there when he

was over again, this time so much further inland that he was directly over me again. It looked suspicious. But after another short run back, he turned and flew off to the north.

Events nine days later indicated that he had been reconnoitring the area in preparation for the Jap landing.

Another Addition To Party

rpHE day before the drop, Pursehouse JL had returned from Sio. With him came Ken Douglas who. with Bert Olander, had been left on New Britain the time we helped to take off the rem nants of the Rabaul garrison.

After a few months the natives turned hostile. So Douglas and Olander retreat ed to the western end of New Britain.

Neumann and Smith were instructed to go over in our former mission pinnace, the “Awelkon,” to take them off. It was during the height of the South-east.

Neumann and the “Awelkon” had been through many a “Vitiaz dust-up” before, but this trip was the worst ever. They did not even know exactly where to find Douglas and Olander. More by instinct than anything else, they went right to them in the middle of the night, and cleared out with them.

Thereafter, Douglas had been with Harris at Yaula, and when Harris’s party was divided up for the New Britain watch-posts, Douglas was to be a mem ber of the ill-fated Cape Gloucester party.

But his old malady, asthma, came on in a bad form, so he was left with Purse

house when he met the parties at Sio, and thus came to us.

This was the solution of our problem.

We could not very well expect the air men, who had had no experience in New Guinea before, to get through to Wau.

None of us three could very well go along, especially since just at this time orders were received that Pursehouse and Mc- Coll should move along the mountains and establish a watch-post overlooking Lae. By sending the airmen out under the escort of Douglas, they had an ex perienced leader, and he had company and some one to care for him if he be came worse.

December 12 was a red-letter day. That day we were a “crowd” at dinner—seven in all. Wagner had come up to have some teeth drawn by Mac. That was the largest number of us ever together in that area.

Wagner

A FEW words will be in place on our relations with Wagner. Because he had gone into hiding when he saw that the Japs would probably soon invade, and that he might have been taken to Aus tralia for internment just before that would happen, he was suspected by people who knew no better of being pro-Japan ese. Though the Japs were theoretically the Allies of his nation, Wagner had no illusions about them. He knew that Jap anese domination in New Guinea would mean the end of mission work. Further more, he had no time for Nazism. His father-in-law was suffering in a concen tration camp in Germany as one of Hit ler’s victims. Harris, Pursehouse and McColl had gone into Wagner’s case carefully, and established the fact that when Wagner cleared out just before the order to go to Australia reached him, he had done so purely from the desire to stay at his mission work.

When Pursehouse and I arrived at Wareo, Pursehouse visited Wagner. Wag ner told him that he wanted to stay neutral. But it did not take long before it was apparent that he was neutral on our side. And he gave us to understand that if he heard cf any Jap movements in our direction we would certainly hear of it. We found later that he had im pressed on the natives around that area that they should help us wherever pos sible, and warn us of any danger.

That was why the Japs killed Wagner, despite his nationality, when they later got him into their control, and found out what he had done for us.

Departures

rE day after we had the. “crowd” to dinner, Pursehouse and McColl set out on their assignment behind Lae. Two days later Douglas and the airmen also left. That left me entirely alone.

As is only natural after two parties have selected and packed food and equip ment, there was fair disorder to straighten out. Work is good for a lonely man. Be sides keeping an eye on sea and air, maintaining “skeds” and giving weather reports, I had several busy days taking stock, packing and nailing up boxes, and going over my clothes and equipment “just in case.4’ Then I hoped to settle down to a pleasant time with books and the radio for companions.

Little did I realise how soon the Japs would have me moving. But that story will have to wait.

Mr. Richard de Lambert, who had been United States Consul in Tahiti for five years, left Papeete recently for Lima, Peru, where he is to be Secretary to the US Ambassador. Mr. and Mrs. de Lam bert made a host of friends in Tahiti.