Kokoda 7. Torn apart




'What is your favourite moment on the Kokoda track?'  I sense you want to ask me. I have to tell you it occurred on that Tuesday morning. I had packed my backpack badly having not been able to open my eyes yet. I was tired and still suffered from self-effacing flatspotites. That morning we walked out of the village of Afogi with the sun still behind the surrounding hills. While I was taking photos of the village, a dog and a local chicken, a young man walked past me with a guitar slung over his shoulder. It was one of the porters that entertained his colleagues and us every night by playing glorious Papuan folk-songs. I asked him if I could have a play, and to my surprise, he passed me the un-tunenable guitar that had seen better days. Slowly I walked with Tanya, Smiddy and back-end Frank - guitar strap over my shoulder - everyone else had gone - only one song in mind.....

 

Walking out of Efogi early in the morning

We could live
For a thousand years
But if I hurt you
I'd make wine from your tears

I told you
That we could fly
'Cause we all have wings
But some of us don't know why

I was standing

You were there

Two worlds collided

And they could never ever tear us apart

Written by Andrew Farriss and Michael Hutchence (Inxs), 1987

The energy from this song lasting way longer than any can of cola.

Tuesday 14 June 2016 - Afogi to Agulogo
 

Cameron called us to a halt about two hundred metres before Brigade Hill.

Brigade Hill is an impressive mountain ridge roughly halfway along the Kokoda Trail. Mission Ridge extends from its north face like a nose. The eastern face is very steep whilst the western face is only slightly less so as it drops down to the Fagume River. It was here that Brigadier Arnold Potts, Commander of Maroubra Force, was ordered to stand and fight the advancing Japanese.

At his disposal were the wearied men of 2/14th and 2/16th Infantry Battalions. Although depleted in number, some hope of success was generated as the Brigade was strengthened with their final fresh battalion, the 2/27th. Potts, concerned that the 2/14th and 2/16th could not withstand another frontal assault after their experiences at Isurava, placed the 2/27th at the forefront of his defenses on Mission Ridge. He then strung his other units, including his headquarters in a line back along the trail.



The soldiers at  Brigade Hill 

Heavy fire from Japanese artillery signaled the commencement of the battle as the 2/27th was assaulted head-on up Mission Ridge by the Japanese 3/144th Battalion (I.e. 3rd Battalion, 144th Regiment).

While this occurred, the Japanese 2/144th Battalion, led by a Papuan guide, moved along the Fagume River before scaling the precipitous western slope of Brigade Hill throughout the night. As they reached the summit in the first moments of dawn, they lodged themselves in between two Australian positions, taking them by surprise. The Australians in the forward elements were cut off.

Realising the danger of the situation, Brigadier Potts ordered desperate counter-attacks to expel the Japanese. Despite the heroic efforts of the Australians to drive the Japanese out, their charges were futile and many Australians were killed.

I found this description of the battle of Brigade Hill at http://kokoda.commemoration.gov.au/into-the-mountains/efogi-disaster.php


Cameron stated 'Captain Claude Nye received his orders from Brigadier Potts in this area'. He was ordered to push back to Brigade Hill and breach the gap created by the Japanese.

The base of the tree where Nye received his last orders

Captain Lefty Langridge received the same desperate orders at Brigade Hill. Push towards Captain Nye's men and stop the Japanese from splitting their Battalions apart. Several of the Australian soldiers handed their dog-tags to their mates before attempting to breach the gap. It was obvious that most of them were not going to make it, but still they went….


Of Captain Nye's 25 soldiers, only eight got through. Lefty's platoon of 21 were completely wiped out. Both Captains were killed.

The last stretch we walked alone and experienced the approach to this important Australian landmark in quiet and without distraction. We all left minutes apart.



Paul B during his walk of contemplation

The 2/27^th torn from the main Australian bunch were forced to retreat into the jungle. Without a brass razoo to eat - for three weeks they made their way through the thick foliage - lost as a fighting power.

Kerri in deep thought on the hill

When it was my turn I walked in deep reflection. The many days on this hike had stripped me bare of all my protective layers - I could almost feel  the forest breathe - my imagination leaped back seventy four years - violent images ran through my mind in this silent jungle. I walked on, out of the jungle and into the sunny,  grass covered clearing blue sky overhead. With a sudden jolt, I realized what the neatly placed rows of wooden stakes represented that were stuck into the ground.

The Brigade Hill Memorial site

I briefly managed to hide behind my camera and took many shots using the brown and white (sepia tone) setting - the picture in the view finder aligning itself with my mood. I knelt down to take a close up but that was it. I had no choice other than to let my emotions run free - sadness engulfing me without restraint - this grown man was blubbering his heart out like a baby.

The moment where I lost it

It took me a while to compose myself, but after some refreshments and slaps on my back from my mates, we walked back to the open plateau, centre of the battlefield.  “Mars you can be our photographer if you like? Take as many shots as you want” said Cam. A new, serious but unexpected responsibility fell my way. Having been given the permission to snap away I went to work during the amazingly moving but profound service.

The Porters paying their respect

We stood around the memorial plaque in a half circle - the porters, as always, standing  behind us  - poetry was read out –  hymns were sang - the story of Brigade Hill relived – respect was paid - many tears were shed – we supported each other – Australian sons were mourned – pride inflating our chests  –  The Last Post tearing right through us.

Standing to attention

I was given the honour to read out the poem “Sir” and except for the invisible hand squeezing my throat, I managed to hold it together even though it all sounded rather squeaky in my ears.

Sir

Sir – would it help if I shed a tear

I swear it’s the first time since this time last year

My spine is a tingle – my throat is all dry

As I stand to attention for all those who died

Daniel at Brigade Hill

I watch the flag dancing half way down the pole

That damn bugle player sends chills to my soul

I feel the pride and the sorrow – there’s nothing the same

As standing to attention on ANZAC Day



Helen

So Sir – on behalf of the young and the free

Will you take a message when you finally do leave

To your mates that are lying from Tobruk to the Somme

The legend of your bravery will always live on



Paul B

I’ve welcomed Olympians back to our shore

I’ve cheered baggy green caps and watched Wallabies score

But when I watch you marching (Sir) in that parade

I know these are the memories that never will fade

So Sir – on behalf of the young and the free

Will you take a message when you finally do leave

It’s the least we can do (Sir) to repay the debt

We’ll always remember you – Lest We Forget

Damian (Dib) Morgan 1998

The raw and honesty of emotions felt today absolutely tore me apart. Something inside of me changed up at Brigade Hill. It was just too early to tell what it was exactly.


 Grey Bits


Before reaching Agulogo there is a very nasty unforgiving downward slope dubbed 'the wall'.  A great photo-op.



'The Wall' with Dee looking on



A great, well deserved, cooling afternoon swim we had in a river where butterflies were plentiful and landed on us. Probably drinking either the water or our hard-earned sweat.

Graeme's encounter with a thirsty butterfly

The late afternoon was spent sitting around on the grass playing some tunes with the guitar. Smiddy’s voice ringing out soulfully throughout the campsite.