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FREE-HerbertE1911

Herbert Edward Free - Chapter 2

“In the event of an enemy attack on Rabaul, and we don’t take the idea seriously, you are to fight to the end.

 

THERE SHALL BE NO WITHDRAWAL.” 1ST January, 1942

 

“THERE SHALL BE NO WITHDRAWAL”, in capitals and underlined were the closing words of Col Scanlan’s first orders for 1942. That was the official line. As heartless and stupid as it was, that is what the troops were told.
Although morale was starting to wane, the troops still felt that the Japs didn’t stand a chance. Everyone knew “that one good Australian was worth 3 or 4 nips”. The Japs weren’t real men. They couldn’t see properly because they had damaged their squinted eyes by reading their intricate characters. They couldn’t walk any distance because of their deformed feet and funny toed boots etc etc.
Late in December all European woman and children were evacuated to Australia leaving behind their men folk and a large Chinese population.
From 4th January, 1942 the Japanese began bombing Rabaul. Very little material damage was done. When the bombing of Rabaul started, the last few non-essential government departments had hurriedly closed shop and boarded the Malaita for Lae. In Rabaul all births, death and marriages were called off.


Real fear was starting to grip the average Australian at home. “Any day now and we will be fighting the Japanese soldiers in our streets.” Stated the Sydney Morning Herald Thursday 8th January, 1942. The average soldier in Rabaul was also becoming more unsettled. A motor vessel arrived loaded with defence equipment and was ordered not to unload her cargo but return to Australia. In the early morning of Friday, 9th a reconnaissance plane set off for Truk. Below he saw a wasp nest of Japanese war machines. In the harbour were over a dozen cruisers and destroyers, an aircraft carrier, numerous other merchant ships and nearly 20 Mavises. The allies gave Japanese aircraft European names for ease of pronunciation and recollection – usually ladies names. The Mavis was the only Japanese aircraft operating in the Southern Pacific slow enough for a Wirraway to catch but the Wirraway wasn’t equipped with guns capable of shooting one down!
On shore at Truk was a large airfield with 30 bombers. On landing back at Rabaul the RAAF maintenance crew noted that part of the plane’s tail had been completely shot off. News of what had been seen spread quickly around Rabaul. Now it was not “if” Japan would come for Rabaul but “when”. It was noted that the Japanese carefully avoided the physical infrastructure of Rabaul as much as possible. No bombs had been dropped on the town itself, on roads or wharfs. Only the two airstrips and the military installations were targets. Japan wanted Rabaul intact!


On Friday 16th Rabaul had two more visits from the Mavis flying boats, a large four engine monoplane with twin tails. At midday they bombed the southern end of Vunakanau airstrip and late in the afternoon bombed Lakunai airstrip, causing minimal damage both times. This raid went the same as all the previous bombings. Enroute one of the Mavises would land on the water and release a weather balloon to determine wind speed and direction. The arrival of the raiders was announced by one of the Coastwatchers giving half an hour’s notice. Everybody stopped work and moved into their air-raid shelters. On arrival of the planes the AA battery would blaze away getting a little closer with each attack (this time they were close enough to disturb the tight V formation and upset the pattern bombing). The next day the Japanese would send a reconnaissance plane over to photograph the damage. The work of the Coast Watchers saved untold numbers of lives throughout the war.
On Friday one officer took the initiative of sending a couple of truckloads of supplies to Malabunga. It wasn’t much but it was all he could do without getting into too much trouble.


Rabaul, although acknowledged by both civilian and military leaders as crucial to Australia’s defence, was ready for the taking. The troops recognized that Rabaul had been written off by the Australian Government and the highest military commanders. The air force men at Rabaul could do nothing with ten ponderous Wirraways and a couple of Hudsons. The Navy was nowhere to be seen and the Chiefs of Staff would neither bring them home nor equip the men of the 2/22nd to defend themselves against what they knew was going to be a massive attack.
Protecting over 100km of coast were only 1,400 AIF troops and 80 New Guinea Volunteer Rifles – their army reserve.
One man suggested that the infrastructure should be prepared for demolition in case of being overrun. Senior officers scoffed at the idea, saying that if Rabaul was lost then the Allies would soon win it back. The man asked if they left Rabaul intact, would the Japanese be kind enough to reciprocate. The question was not well received. Another officer asked if he could hide food stores back in the mountains and was also ridiculed by the commanding officers.
The troops’ jungle warfare training was minimal. Leadership was poor, JK McCarthy, a patrol officer with many years of experience in the New Guinea Islands and Highlands, had offered to take the troops in small groups and teach them about the New Guinea jungle but the army declined the offer.


Equipment was out dated and in short supply. Large dress boots weren’t a problem but some types of ammunition was impossible to get.
By Tuesday 20th January 1942, more than 30 Japanese ships, including 4 aircraft carriers, had assembled north east of Rabaul. It was the first time that these ships had sailed together since the attack on Pearl Harbour. Commander Fuchida was to lead an air attack on Rabaul. His pilots were well trained and battle experienced men, some having already reached “Ace” status over China.
The sky was full of Japanese aircraft; Zero fighters, Betty attack bombers, Rufe seaplanes , Mavis flying boats and Val dive bombers. All 120 of them completely unopposed.  As the bombers finished off their last runs the Zero pilots swept in low, alternating between strafing runs and low level acrobatic displays so low that the Australian troops could see their grinning faces rubbing the victory in.
The next morning, Wednesday 21st January a plane patrolling north of Rabaul reported 4 enemy cruisers. They had entered the Bismarck Sea and were steaming south east along the coast of New Ireland towards Rabaul: ETA about midnight. Scanlan gave the order to prepare to move out at a moment’s notice. Scanlan ordered his senior officers to tell the men, “it’s only an exercise, they can  go back for their personal gear later”, so most troops left behind their Quinine and hard rations. Late in the afternoon Scanlan finally realised that the situation was hopeless.
The days had comprised of beautiful clear mornings and clouds building up and bringing heavy downpours of up to 250mm in the afternoon. January 22, was no different. The torrential downpours made movement around the Gazelle Peninsula very difficult. As night fell the troops prepared for the worst. For many of them this was their second night without sleep. The rain was teaming down reducing visibility to nil. Headlights were banned and the only way vehicles could move along the slippery roads was to have a man walking in front of the vehicle with his hand on the bonnet, guiding the driver. On the morning of the 23rd the invasion commenced in overwhelming numbers and the defenders were then withdrawn. The order was given, “Every man for himself”. Scanlan by now had completely lost control of the battalion which was fragmented with no means of communication with each other or the outside world.
As they withdrew, companies broke up.  “When your company was ordered to withdraw and there was a truck available you took it. If there was room on a truck you got on board. It didn’t matter which Company it belonged to or where it was going.” The fight for survival and freedom had begun.


The narrow dirt road to Malabunga was very bad and trucks bogged easily. En route a wooden bridge had to be repaired, a grader put out of action, and the road cleared of trees. At one spot the track subsided and a truck poised on three wheels – a following vehicle was roped up to the stranded unit, and with all hands assisting pulled it into a safe position.
At the roads end they moved on by foot, after booby trapping their trucks by fixing hand grenades to the throttle linkages. Then, moving along the foot track to the Baining Mountains, the enemy aircraft could be heard bombing and machine gunning the trucks. They walked the rising track until late into the night, utterly spent they tried to sleep – but it was futile – heavy rain fell, and ‘bush mockers’ – biting insects – were added to their miserable state. In the early light it was a pleasure to be moving again. The chances of survival started to intrude on their thoughts, some older than others were perhaps the steadier – the young, find the unusual activity both of mind and body very wearing and it took its toll forcing some to drop out. In other instances discipline exerted itself and men did all they could to get others on their feet.
Now the real problem of the terrain began to show itself – coconut trees thinned out and the nuts picked up were the last seen for some time. Penetrating deeper into the forest, the rain heavier, mountains ever steeper, a creek, a racing river, each drawing a little more effort than the last; so conversation died and all that could be heard was the sloshing of muddy feet and the snorts of gasping, struggling men.
That night to guard against the ever constant rain, a lean-to was built and a few indifferent fires set going in an endeavour to dry out, yet no sooner were the fires well alight than a scout plane which had followed all day, came over once again and the fires had to be hurriedly extinguished.  The night hours proved bitterly cold at that altitude above 3000 feet and the only way to be even tolerably warm was for all to bunch up together, but it was most unsatisfactory, when at 3am, wet and miserable all started walking with the aid of a torch.
By daylight with strenuous walking and climbing, the clothing had partly dried on their bodies and they were warmer. Later that morning about 11.30am, at a native village, more troops and civilians herded together, and a raw maize cob was given to each. It was said that a mission was but half an hour ahead and that biscuits were being sent back and so they were.  Each were given two, and on everybody went.
“Who could ever forget the sight of that long line of men ahead going up the zig zag path to Lamingi Mission. This mission was under the charge of Father Alphons Mayrhofer and while all his energies had been devoted to providing cooked food, we, at the end of the line were in this instance too late. Told of stores in a native hut, we were able to secure a tin of meat, condensed milk and a small packet of biscuits each; then making ourselves as comfortable as circumstances would permit in an adjoining shelter. To dry out meant, where opportunity permitted, stripping off and replacing the shirt and shorts as they dried in the humid air. Our worldly possessions were what we carried and that didn’t extend to a change of clothing.”

January 26 The Bainings – As they took the track this morning it turned towards the coast, higher and higher, harder and harder, the rivers faster and every activity a test of individual strength and determination. First some lost clothing in crossing a river with bundles held on heads, another his boots and he had to return to Lamingi in bare feet.  Another lost the soul of his boot and had to keep tying on bark as a replacement.
That evening, over a fast flowing river the natives had stretched a wire cable and were helping each one across.  Rationing was now introduced on a more rigid scale, for earlier experience and an unknown future compelled this precaution. One tin of meat divided between eight together with a single biscuit was to be the evening meal.
The following day was a nightmare of hills leaping up a couple of thousand feet all around, struggling along ridges, avoiding landslides and giant cracks in the ground, still the trail went on. That night other troubles – in the hut of the wild mountain tribe, so readily made available to us, we became the target for all sorts of fleas. Shortly after dawn we came up on quite a large party of men about making camp, it appeared to us that since the coast could be seen in the distance and the worst of the mountains behind, that a final effort be made to reach the beach.
Rumours started to fly as guns could be heard. Some thought the naval ships to be ours, some guessed it was at Wide Bay, and a rescue attempt was imminent, but none of these proved correct.
We were advised to move forward in small parties and at regular intervals to the beach and be prepared to leave before daylight next morning.

 January 27 – some were beginning to tire and were of the opinion it was useless to go on, but the next morning all felt better about continuing. There was hope in going forward, none by standing still or going back.
 At Adler Bay Saw Mill the Chinese gave us a couple of fowls, an iron pot and a kerosene tin. On asking advice as to the distance to Wide Bay, they told us ‘seven mounds’ to climb and on viewing the hills in front we were far from encouraged. Later in the afternoon one chap felt unable to carry on as his feet were too sore. The constant rubbing where the boots were so badly repaired made walking nearly impossible, but with vine and more bark and later some copper wire, the sole was tied on again and hope revived.
Coming on a small sandy cove, rice was boiled in sea water to take the place of salt. At this time two other groups came up and camped alongside. One of these chaps caught a turtle and called to us that should we want any meat or eggs we had better come right away. While some went off to cut out steaks and extract the eggs, others set a fire going – all now set for a very early steak and egg breakfast.

After a full days walk the homestead at Tol Plantation was reached. Here many exhausted men were gathered. Indecision was creeping into the thinking as to the proper course to follow – to go on or stay – to surrender or try to escape. On the one hand it was believed that as prisoners, relatives would know where they were, on the other there was a distinct possibility of dying in the vast, green unknown. Japanese unpredictability was still mercifully hidden from them though all were soon to learn better. An older brother speaking to his younger brother said, ”I don’t trust the yellow bastards”. So on they went.
For nearly 150 men who stayed the Japanese showed no mercy and news of the Massacre at Tol Plantation spread quickly. No longer was there any choice. At this point the Commandant Scanlan resplendent in full summer uniform complete with badges of rank felt he must surrender voluntarily in order to be treated as a POW and of course he no doubt had in mind the warning dropped by the Japanese aircraft ‘to surrender and plead for his men’. But the greater majority of escapees were not impressed – not after what they had seen or heard at Tol.
A small group struggled on to Tol, drained of all ability to take proper interest in what was happening around them to recognize the danger signs; as a result they very nearly got caught in the Japanese net. As the bullets flew around them, they went ‘bush’ followed by more bullets mixed with the odd shell but determined to stay free despite the ‘gaggle of dispirited ones’ gathered at Tol and sad to relate to be so badly ill-treated.


After some days in the jungle skirting around Tol they eventually came out on the coast again completely exhausted but safe for the time being at least. All had been told to stay in small groups as the native villages could only feed and care for a few. The miles dragged by from one tremendous hill to the next. Darkness came on while they were still on the track – the jungle somewhat noisy by day was never still at night – in the twilight of day birds and animals were heard; in the dark these same sounds were ever so much louder and alarming.
Finally reaching Pomio that night as it started to rain yet again they found that the natives were friendly and quickly accommodated them in their huts.  They were told of a mission at Mal Mal and of the mission Father, Ted Harris. The name and reputation appealed to the soldiers as a likely resting place, for it could be readily seen none were in a condition to go much further.
At Mal Mal they had their first meeting with Father Harris. At once a very considerable attachment was formed. From him they learned all that had happened in the last few weeks, both on the local scene, in Australia and abroad. Father Harris could offer only encouragement and advice, for the mission resources were strained to the limit, the day following the small group set out again, but so ill were they, that a particular turn off was missed, and they stumbled blindly into the jungle; when finally they emerged, by the greatest good fortune it was a village where a canoe was waiting to convey them across the bay to Wunung.
Again the forethought of Father Harris made itself obvious, not forgetting the interest displayed by the village chief, in keeping the good Father up to date as to the condition of the travellers. Malaria, dysentery and other ailments were well known, but now scrub typhus had appeared. Father Harris was quite adamant that to beat this new scourge, the weary men would have to stop the constant travelling, conserve their energy,  build up with more regular meals and above all rest.
For this purpose he recommended Drina Plantation, which had the buildings, food within the area and topographical safeguards against Japanese surprise; ideal for a permanent base. The scenery was magnificent, but for some unknown reason depressing, on this day February, 27, 1942. The estimated walking distance from Rabaul was 350 miles, but confusion there could be, for malaria above all things played the devil with mind and memory. Men arrived in small groups, all in a bad way.

The general plight the men were in led one officer, Capt Owen, to the conclusion  that men could not be left in idleness: further, the district of itself could not support so many. Work platoons were organised and duties allotted all round that each man should have suitable activities and responsibilities. Owen moved around each of the areas to supervise discipline and health. The condition of the men was pathetic, one normally 18 stone had lost 6 stone and was better for it, no doubt, but the majority were mere bags of bones. Day after day passed miserably though there were simple interludes such as chatting the long nights away, the time when much was learned of the other fellow. Time after time one or another would hopefully project himself into a world of ‘What I would like to do in the future, if.’
A message arrived for Owen only. The note had all the air of urgency, the message was clear enough but vague to a stranger. Owen was to go to Wunung alone bringing all details as to the troops under his command. Here he met Frank Holland, JK McCarthy’s aid. Volatile, but always generous and witty, McCarthy was one of the most forward-looking and perceptive of Australian Coastwatchers. He was organising an escape venture on the north coast and had asked Holland to cross the island to see who might be gathered into the scheme. Obviously the numbers at Drina and their physical and mental condition meant that none were able to cross the island.
The condition of the men was now extreme, both physical and mental. Work parties on some days could not mount more than six men out of a platoon of twenty. All efforts to make contact with the outside world appeared hopeless, simply nothing was happening to even remotely suggest an escape plan or that an evacuation was in the making.

Sunday April 6th was a day of destiny, opening with alarms and excursions. Before dawn a craft came sailing into the lagoon but was soon recognised. One chap had gone off in search of food and had returned in a boat with a native crew. The expedition had produced good results. At first reluctant to sell, Allen had offered to give the Chinese storekeeper an order on the Commonwealth Government for the whole of his stock, arguing that if the Japanese came they would merely confiscate it, whereas when they were driven out, the order would be honoured by the Australian authorities.
The Chinaman saw the logic and Allen returned with a fine array including all forms of store goods suitable for barter, but more importantly boracic acid, sulphanilamide and several other drugs plus a 100lb of trade tobacco. Even more precious, a bottle of quinine, collected in tiny quantities from various villages – the future looked much more rosy.


But there was more to follow. At midday the really incredible happened – Owen received a crumpled note, 

‘SEND ALL MEN THAT CAN TRAVEL OVER TO WUNUNG INCLUDING ALL SICK IF YOU CAN GET THEM THERE. THEY MUST BE HERE TODAY AS TONIGHT (SUNDAY) IS THE NIGHT.

 The first shock was just too much, they were numbed at the contents of the note and its implications – but then the silence was broken as someone said in a small voice ‘We had better get busy.’
With great excitement speculating freely on what sort of evacuation might be pending Owen and his men set off for the overnight journey to Wunung. However, the twenty mile separating the plantations began to feel like a hundred. Virtually everyone had malaria and there were numerous stretcher cases among the men. Enough were capable of walking to provide two relay teams for each stretcher, but the so called “healthy” individuals could walk only a few hundred yards before stopping to rest. The greatest challenge for Owen and his starving group was the ascent of a steep mountain in the darkness. The slope was slick with rotten coral and numerous loose rocks, forcing the men to man handle the stretchers up one ledge at a time. At the top the stretcher bearers and the relief teams stumbled forward on legs that felt like “brittle sticks”. When they could walk no farther, they sagged to the ground panting for breath against the damp earth until someone rose and cursed the others to their feet. The trek went on like that for hours: men walking as though they were  in a stupor falling often, despairing that their progress was too slow, that their opportunity for rescue would be lost.
Just after midnight, a group of natives carrying flaming torches met the Australians on the trail. They had been sent to guide the soldiers directly to Palmalmal. Grinning with excitement they picked up the stretchers and led the weary soldiers forward. Many were “near to weeping with relief” as they moved off with renewed energy.

Late that afternoon, Capt Champion moved the Laurabada to the plantations jetty to embark passengers. Almost as if scripted a dark looking storm approached that afternoon, but boarding was accomplished quickly thanks to a plan devised by Selby. A few civilians occupied one of the four cabins, and stretcher cases went into the other three plus the dining room. The rest of the troops filed onto the outer decks squeezing into every available inch of space. Ridiculously overloaded the Laurabada listed to starboard. Built to accommodate 8 passengers and a handful of crew members she was packed with 157 escapees, of whom an estimated 135 were from Lark force.
Every minute the Laurabada stayed at Palmalmal, the risk of discovery by the Japanese increased. Providentially, the storm broke at 1700 and pelted the Laurabada with “black torrents” of rain. It was a perfect shroud for hiding the boat, and Champion promptly got her underway
Within minutes the rain became so heavy that we lost sight of Father Harris. It was as if a curtain had been drawn between us and our adventures on New Britain.
At Port Moresby on April 12th, three days out of Pal Mal Mal several officers met the boat, among them an Intelligence Officer. Each gave the information asked for, particularly the Tol survivors. Among those to greet the troops was a war correspondent who having asked all that he could think of in the time available, said as a final question to Selby, “What inspired you to keep on all through those horrors?” to which Selby was able to reply in a vein similar for everybody by showing water and sweat-stained photographs ‘I would like you to meet my wife and child’.
Of the original 1400 men comprising Lark Force 800 POW’s held at Rabaul were taken onboard the Montevideo Maru together with some 200 civilians who drowned when the ship was sunk by an American submarine off Luzon on 1st July, 1942. Of the officers and nurses taken    prisoner they were sent to Japan. Most survived but their experiences were grim. 150 men were massacred at Tol and others died of disease and malnutrition in the jungle. Both the north coast and south coast rescues organised by JK McCarthy were successful. The Lakatoi moved over 150 to Cairns from the north coast and the little Laurabada saw her 157 safely to Port Moresby.
Several other small groups made it to the New Guinea mainland, some RAAF were taken off by  Catalinas but in all the survival rate was very low. The 2/22nd Battalion was never reformed.
May we never take our freedom for granted.       

 Launch Mascot

 It was during March,1942 that Lt Alan Timperley (ANGAU), was ordered to sail to New Britain. Together with Sgt John Marsh and Cpl Dave Neil from Army Signals, he was to locate and rescue troops from the over-run Rabaul Garrison.
They set sail in the small launch Mascot without navigational aids other than a 'cheap Japanese Compass’ and inadequate charts that dated back to the 1914 German colonisation. Their crewmen were villagers Sari, Oivo and engineer Bobby.
With a heavy load of food and equipment, the boat was so overloaded that it threatened to capsize in heavy seas.
They departed from Milne Bay on 28 March, heading on a northerly course via Samarai Island and through the D'Entrecasteau Group of islands. They were dogged by engine and gear trouble and were forced to make repairs as they went. Before crossing the 200 miles to New Britain, Timperley gave all his men the opportunity to wait in the safety of the Trobriand Islands until the Mascot returned from Japanese territory. All men elected to go on with him. From the Trobriands, the crossing was rough and the boat shipped water and needed constant pumping.
No one knew the coast ahead, but Timperley working with his cheap compass, reached Jacquinot Bay, just two miles off course. Although they heard aircraft the men were not spotted by the Japanese and moored their boat close inshore. The three Europeans went ashore on 5 April, looking for the retreating Australian troops.  
Messages were sent to all of the outlying areas to the effect that rescue was imminent. It quickly became clear that a bigger boat was needed.

The following extracts are from Sgt Marsh’s diary:

5th April, 1942 Men arriving in terrible condition and half dead. Tobacco and matches almost run out. Managed to get message out about conditions here and number of men. Sick being brought in from outlying depots in a hell of a mess.

6th April Sent message at 0630 to McKenzie (Coastwatcher arranging north coast evacuation). Message received about plans for men’s evacuation. Last of our stores brought up. Laurabada despatched. More men down with various complaints. Officers now cleaning up and spirits rising.

7th April Will leave radio set here with priest in case of arrivals coming through from up above.  Preparing stores on Mascot for trip home.

8th April Men in excellent spirits – sick improving – held parade and Major Owen gave out the time of arrival of boat. Men full of beans and such now.

9th April Everyone up at 0130 – appear couldn’t sleep. Sick being taken to wharf. Left wharf at 0530 to guide Laurabada in – sighted her at 0600 at anchor offshore near island and waiting until 1600 to load men. Mascot pulled out at 1645 (the much faster Laurabada past them at 1800). Ran into a series of terrific storms and how.

 

Signature

 

 

 

 

In researching this story I sat in the quiet of the Research Room at the Australian War Memorial holding Sgt Marsh’s tattered book.  The fountain pen had sped over the pages and the story was coming to life before my eyes. At page 21 of a hundred page book he had arrived back at Milne Bay and the entries ceased. Out of curiosity I flicked to the back of the book and there found a long list of those known dead, where they had died and how, also the name of the person reporting the death.  All very sobering – some had been so close to rescue. Then I flicked to the middle of the book and sat stunned as I looked through the very first page of names being gathered of survivors.  This was the only page where the men had actually written their own names and in the middle of all of the officers was VX43963 H E Free.


The next two pages contained the names of the remaining survivors, all written in Sgt Marsh’s hand. If only that book could talk………

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Kay Lorraine Armstrong (nee Free) - 2012

 

 Return to Herbert Edward Free - Chapter 1

 


Owner of originalKay Lorraine Armstrong (nee Free)
Linked toKay Lorraine Armstrong (nee Free); Herbert Edward FREE

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