'Sinabada' Returned to Langu

Tribute to a Brave Woman of the Islands

By J. K. MCCARTHY, MBE, who was ADO in Talasea (near Mrs. Baker’s plan tation) before the war. and who. in 1942, directed the operation by which Mrs.

Baker, and hundreds of others, were res cued from the Japs.

THE survivors of the Rabaul garrison, who made the heartbreaking journey along the coast to Talasea, will remember the auburn-haired lady with the gentle hands who tended the sick and wounded at Iboki and on board the “Lakatoi” during the perilous voyage to Australia. It is hard to believe that she is dead.

Langu, where Bill and Gladys Baker

settled over 20 years ago, was truly a gem—and had been set by nature in worthy surroundings. Witu Island rises sharply from the sea, and on its gracious slopes was placed the Baker’s new home.

The well-planted heavily-bearing coco nut palms denoted the richness of the soil; and, as the couple climbed the path that led from the small jetty, they saw the bungalow that was to be their new home—“till death do them part.”

In the happy years that followed, they worked hard and quickly proved that they were an acquisition to the new land.

They were ideally suited efficient planters, splendid employers towards

their native workers, gracious hosts to visitors in all a worthy couple, and splendid companions and friends, popular alike with the white and brown people of New Guinea.

Glad retained one title during her life in New Guinlea. She was known ias Sinabada the Papuan word for white woman and by this name was soon known to both Europeans and natives throughout the Witu Group and Talasea —“The Sinabada who lives at Langu.”

Under the wise and beneficent rule of the Bakers, Langu prospered. Modern labour barracks, hospital and outbuildings were added. The bungalow was enlarged and under Mrs. Baker’s direction it be came a most charming and gracious house.

MRS, BAKER was not content to be a mere hostess at Langu. Her intelligent mind and pioneer spirit demanded more than household duties.

She took a keen interest in the property and, under her husband’s guidance be came an experienced and efficient planter.

Copra production, native labour manage ment, schooner engines and the thousand and-one jobs of a plantation, from mend ing a bullock cart to issuing rations, came alike to her able mind and vigorous person.

In 1936, Bill Baker went to Rabaul on urgent business and Mrs. Baker was left in charge. As the dinghy pulled out to the waiting ship, Bill 'waved to 'her with some gay remark about returning soon. That was the last time she saw him alive.

Bill suffered some trivial scratch at Rabaul and, like most healthy men, he ignored it. When he did seek medical advice, the thing had turned septic. By the time he reached hospital blood poisoning had set in—as it is likely to do in the tropics. To the distress of everybody he died in a few days.

His wife waiting on the jetty at Langu to meet the returning schooner, bore the cruel news with customary courage. She soon set about taking Bill’s place as managing-owner of Langu. In the absence of her beloved partner, she appeared to give all her devotion to the property.

I REMEMBER visiting Langu in 1938, and unexpectedly coming on Glad., hard at it, doing the job of a man on her plantation. Clad in khaki shorts and shirt, she was busily laying cement as the foundations of a new hot-air copra drier and doing the job with extra ordinary efficiency. She interrupted her work to attend to the many medical wants of the native population.

She had established a native hospital at Langu, where the village natives were free to come and receive medical atten tion. She served the natives of Witu well. In her attendance on maternity cases she had been responsible for saving the lives of many women and children.

Her attitude towards the native people was a very human one, and in return for this she had the devotion and good-will of her native neighbours—a devotion not lightly given but in this case most richly deserved.

In her small launch Mrs. Baker often visited Talasea, accompanied by her Eurasian maid, Miss Lehmann, and 3 or 4 native crew. She would travel over 100 miles of open sea in the tiny vessel, and she proved herself a competent engineer on many occasions.

Despite her ability to do a man’s job, Gladys Baker, and pleasingly, always re mained essentially feminine. There was nothing, either in her appearance or manners, to suggest the masculine type.

In appearance, she was of slight build and her auburn hair was worn long.

Always well-groomed, she had the well

bred woman’s instinctive desire for fine clothes and belongings. Whether a hostess entertaining guests, or planter supervising the copra drier, Glad was always a woman —and a very brave and gracious one, at that.

IT was not surprising that Gladys Baker felt it impossible to depart when the Japs invaded and the orders came that all women were to leave. She dis obeyed the wise advice of the Admin istrators, and remained at Langu. When Rabaul fell, Mrs. Baker accompanied by her maid and a native crew, went in their launch over to New Britain, and up the Aria River, in the Talasea district. They had some thoughs of remaining there until the Japs were driven out of the country.

I found them in this place in January, 1942; and arrangements were then made for Mrs. Baker to accompany the rest of the civilians to Salamaua. which had not yet fallen to the Japs.

I then received orders from the Royal Australian Navy to proceed to the Rabaul area on intelligence duties.

Several weeks later I was in charge of the operation, on that northern coast of

trying to save about 240 men, the rem nants of the Australian troops who had been overwhelmed by the Japanese in Rabaul. Starving, wounded and sick, they came 300 miles along the north coast of New Britain, and were gathered at Iboki —between Talasea and Cape Gloucester. Here, I discovered that Mrs.

Baker had not gone with the other civi lians to Salamaua, as instructed, but had chosen to wait with Miss Lehmann (her maid) at Iboki.

Mrs. Baker had suffered the second great blow of her life: she was about

to lose Langu—temporarily at least—to the Japs. But there was work to do and she, with all her inborn skill and ability, laboured day and night to give medical aid to the wounded, sick and dying who filled the huts at Iboki. Her courage and cheerfulness inspired every body.

Later, the party, boarded the “Lakatoi,” which had been lying at Witu. Before the heavily laden ship crept away from Iboki, Glad. Baker was to stand and salute her beloved Langu with a whispered “I’ll be back,” through her tears.

Mrs. Baker continued her unceasing labours on board during the voyage to Cairns, and earned the love and heart felt thanks of the many sick who received treatment at her hands.

In Australia she continued to serve,

and was commissioned in the AAMWS.

Her thoughts always were of Langu, and when she could return. I met her in Melbourne, and her conversation reverted again and again to her New Guinea home.

IN 1945, I had the satisfaction of learning that the Australian Govern ment had at last given official recog nition to her services during those dark days of 1942. She was awarded the MBE.

I was in Borneo at the time and I thought how Glad. Baker would wish to return to her Langu, now that the Jap was defeated.

Mrs. Baker returned to Witu and her Langu home late in 1946. “Sinabada has returned!” would be the joyful news cried around the villages of the island.

One can imagine how she felt, as she

once more stepped ashore in that beau tiful place.

Within a very short time a matter of days rather than weeks she was dead.

Her courageous heart may be stilled for ever, as she sleeps in the earth that she loved so well. But her indomitable spirit will serve us as an imperishable and inspiring memory.