Kokoda Epilogue

The moss still growing on an overhanging branch on the way to Kingsbury's rock

Walking from Kokoda airfield to Owers Corner somehow felt right. The first punch and retreat moves of the 39^th were with us every step of the way - finishing at Owers Corner - a grand finale. There is so much more to write about Kokoda and so much still unsaid. I feel I have only started to scratch the surface of this rich, intriguing story.



So much ground still to cover

Following in the footsteps of these courageous Diggers, we respectfully aligned ourselves with their plight as much as we could. After the service at Isurava, this hike in my opinion, became a pilgrimage or a walk with surprising personal reflections. 



The raging rivers of Papua

Nataly

When I read back through the story, I am struck by the huge emotional rollercoaster. One minute we were seeing the amazing beauty of the jungle, seconds later we were torn apart when confronted by the sadness and the rigors of war. There was laughter, tears and bucket-loads of sweat.



Disturbing finds in the wild

Many weeks later the dust had settled inside. I can wholeheartedly tell you from a personal point of view that a different person arose from that muddy track. Of course you can still tell me that I have a funny accent, of course you can still tell me my name is French – it just doesn’t matter any more. Being of Dutch origins will always remain, but there is a new found confidence of how I fit into this amazing country. The heart is now true blue.

At the service at Brigade Hill it became clear that ANZAC will be different for me in the future. From now on I will be commemorating, in some way, the soldiers that fought for our land and freedom as it stands today.

Anzac Hill in Alice Springs

There was no other nation fighting along side of the Australians on the Kokoda track. We looked after ourselves, protected Australia in this story of bravery and sacrifice. Our Australian identity - forever forged on this jungle track.

The sun rising over the red heart of Australia

Adam's boots standing at Brigade Hill



Kokoda just keeps on giving

The Kokoda experience has continued long after walking the track.

Facebook was buzzing after our return from Papua New Guinea. The first couple of days I was bombarded with friend requests by new found mates. I must say that the reactions and responses I have had, whilst devouring on anything that is the Kokoda, has been truly amazing if not quite humbling at times. This is what I received by Facebook from Kelsey:

Hey Marbles! Just wanted to say thank you again for the pictures of Kokoda. I sat down with my pop yesterday to talk about the experience and show him the pictures you took. It is safe to say it was quite an emotional experience for him and myself. Considering I only took 7 photos with my shitty phone camera, having them there as a visual for him meant the world! So thank you so much again.

Kelsey's pop fought in Papua New Guinea. Thanks to your pop Kelsey and to you for those words.



Kelsey at Owers Corner

I was recently strolling around a photographic exhibition at the Araluen Arts Centre in Alice Springs. I read the comments written next to aboriginal elder Steve Widders intense three dimensional photograph of the 'Unfinished Business' collection. Being diagnosed by Fred Hollows, many years ago, with a degenerative eye disease he couragesly walked the Kokoda track. I found out later he hiked with Kokoda Spirit to boot. It all fits together somehow.



Steve Widders amazing photograph

We have become good friends with Alison and Steve at the Temple Bar Caravan Park in Alice Springs. In the many conversations with Alison, she told me that her dad served in the 39^th and fought on the Kokoda track. She mentioned that her dad was affected by his experiences in Papua New Guinea but never spoke about it.




Alison at Lake Hart in South Australia

I have looked into the war records of Alison's Dad which made for interesting reading. With the other so called Choco's, he landed in Port Moresby on the 'Aquitania' on 27 December 1941. Parts of his records reveal that he was admitted to hospital for contracting dysentery on one occasion and given latrine duties on another. Edward Arthur Curran, part of the pack of underdogs that saved Australia. Thanks mate - and thanks to all your mates that battled it out with you on this trail.

Alison looks after her Dad's medals

Words are effortlessly spoken and meaning is easily lost. That is why, in the end, I have taken to research the word 'lest' and make sure I illuminate its true value.

lest

conjunction

formal

conjunction: lest

1. with the intention of preventing (something undesirable); to avoid the risk of

   "he spent whole days in his room, wearing headphones lest he disturb anyone"
   

   (after a clause indicating fear) because of the possibility of something undesirable happening; in case "she sat up late worrying lest he be murdered on the way home".

synonyms:

in case, just in case, for fear that, in order to avoid, to avoid the risk of "he cut the remark out of the final programme lest it should offend listeners"

Courtesy of Google 

'Lest we forget'

Grey Bits

Acknowledgements

First and foremost I have to acknowledge Cameron, our guide from Kokoda Spirit who made our hike a genuine learning experience laced with humor and energy. His personal experiences in warlike circumstances giving this track a connection to present day conflicts and an insight of the stern stuff a soldier has to be made of .

Cameron briefing us at Brigade Hill

Many thanks goes out to the people of Papua New Guinea for giving us the opportunity to commemorate our heroes in their country.

Thanks to you too

The fantastic porters carried our packs and food across the track but they did so much more than that by showing us the joy of Papua New Guinea. How lucky was I with Smiddy's care and radiant personality? Very!!!

Smiddy at Brigade Hill



Thumbs up from Jason

Throughout writing this story I have become more and more reliant on checking my facts with the Australian War Memorial web site  https://www.awm.gov.au/ This is a free website where I found the war history of Alison's Dad together with many others.

After a while I realized that those stunning, black and white photographs I used in my blog came from the exact same source and are kept archived ready for us to download. The two talented photographers Damien Parer and George Silk are responsible for most of the black and white shots of the Kokoda campaign. Both men are well worth researching. Damien Parer was known to run backwards towards the enemy whilst taking camera footage of the approaching Australians.



Damien Parer


Huge respect and acknowledgement goes to Peter Fitzimmons and his 'Kokoda'. The first third of his book a master class in history, the next two thirds a thrilling ride of jungle warfare. His personal touches in the book I found refreshing and of an intense reflective nature. With no commercial interest on my behalf, I can highly recommend Kokoda if you want to learn about our country's history or just want your socks blown off.

With all that happened on this trail, even before we could set foot on the track, it became pretty clear what a special bunch of people were hiking this trail. Thanks to you all for making this trip a phenomenal and an unforgettable journey.




The bunch splashing about

More Bits


During one of the news giving times at night in a small village in the jungle, my mates Craig and Jason sang ‘Hello Dolly’- a great touch which smothered the bamboo huts in a time warp where our Diggers may have been happier, later on in their lifetime. A life away from war and with the woman they loved bouncing on their knees, living life to the fullest.

Hello, Dolly
Translation in progress. Pleas

I said hello, Dolly
Well, hello, Dolly
It's so nice to have you back where you belong

Kate was there

You're lookin' swell, Dolly
I can tell, Dolly
You're still glowin'
You're still crowin'
 You're still goin' strong
I feel the room swayin'
While that ole band keeps on playin'
One of your old favourite songs from way back when




The boys on the track



So golly, gee, fellas
Find her an empty knee, fellas
Dolly'll never go away
I said she'll never go away
Dolly'll never go away again

Songwriters: HERMAN, JERRY

 

Kokoda 6. Saucepans for helmets

I have nearly ran out of superlatives for the word steep, but today we climbed up a killer gradient to  Kokoda Gap. On arrival to a small, flat bit in the track we were welcomed by the cutting sound of an automatic rifle. Cameron noted that there was a rifle bird up in the tree – an appropriate ‘rata-ta’ sound in these parts which may have confused the 39^th some time ago.

 Monday 13 June 2016 - Templeton 1 – Afogi 



Courtship of the Rifle Birds. Photo courtesy of www.flicker.com

Orders from above were that the engineers were to blow up the Kokoda Gap with explosives. The Kokoda Gap is an 11km wide valley. Blowing it up is a seriously bizarre proposal and any enemy force would easily be able to climb around it. It bares testimony to the lack of knowledge the upper echelons of the Australian army had about the situation on the Kokoda track. I am glad that no explosives were used to disfigure this undisturbed valley.

The gap that remained

Further more, the soldiers on the track and the man in charge, Brigadier Arnold Potts, were under immense pressure to stop the Japanese advance. After several weeks of this conflict, General Blamey and General MacArther - the famous but American leader - who were in charge of these men still didn't understand the disparity in numbers of soldiers between the Australians and Japanese. The two leaders, outraged by the loss of territory, scorned the 39th battalion unjustly in my opinion.

The long, above ground roots of the Pandan trees
 relinquished to the advancing Japanese

We had lunch at a village called 1900 named after the year it was founded. It is nestled at Eora creek which you have to cross to get to this beautiful place. 

The Pandan forest leading to this village is very rare – 1 out of 4 left in the world. That same day we caught our first stunning glimpse of Brigade Hill – the second significant battle site of the Kokoda campaign. 

We hiked past the Myola turnoff, which is a small side track into the jungle leading to a flat area. Myola was used to resupply the troops in 1942 by dumping large crates out of aeroplanes - a technique called biscuit bombing. Many crates exploded on impact with gear spreading out all over the landing sight. Many supplies ended up in the jungle never to be found. Not an exact science this biscuit bombing.

Craig - an inspirational figure of our group 

My knee swelled up worse than I have ever seen, possibly due to the relentless downhills. The ballooning skin bulging out of the sides of the knee-brace I was wearing. A lovely nasty rash in the hollow of my knee giving the whole thing a little extra colour. Bring in one of the most inspiring hikers of our group, Craig who totally belies his age of just a mere seventy-three. During a chat with the quiet and unassuming man who was carrying his own pack, we spoke about the story of a digger that was shot in the head. The severely wounded soldier was asked how he was feeling – he replied ‘I’ve got a bit of a headache’. From that moment on I decided to avoid making my knee an issue as the suffering of the young men in 1942 was far greater than mine.

A soldier with a head wound helped by a Fuzzy Wuzzy

I wasn't the only one carrying some sort of injury. There were blisters, exhaustion and some had to tape all sorts of body parts to help them get through. Some of the hikers had survived way more serious ailments during their lives and it was an absolute pleasure to have walked with them.

Helen crossing another wonky bridge

On the Kokoda track you make do with what you've got. You walk using one dirty, wet, but hopefully daily washed shirt only, if your hiking pole breaks you look for a stick and if you can't get down a steep slope you go backwards or slide down on your backside. You improvise!

A common sight on the trail

You adapt to the circumstances you find yourself in. Some of the hikers of our group would leave camp 15 or maybe 30 minutes before Jimmy's "rock and roll" call so as not to fall too far behind. Incredibly, after several days, they found themselves still out the front of the group and had to wait for the main bunch to arrive. I have to say that every single person of our party improved during our battles with the hills. It was quite remarkable that 23 hikers could stay together as much as our group did. No stragglers here.




Jo P - the first to leave

In his book 'Kokoda' Peter Fitzsimons describes the following

In such conditions the only way to get dry wood was to do what the natives did: get a huge log and with a machete hack away the pulpy wet outside of the log and get to the tinderbox dry wood inside. Then, while your mate held the groundsheet above you, you got a precious dry match to the tinder and, hey…presto…fire. Once the fire was going all the other wood could dry and you were away. A cooking pot? Why not your helmet, or ‘panic hat’ as the soldiers called them? First one bloke had tried it, then another, then the whole battalion had taken to using their helmets for saucepans, or perhaps they’d been using their saucepans for helmets - it didn't really matter. Admittedly, their first few meals tasted remarkably like burnt paint, as the insides of their helmets seared, but you could get used to that too.

A handy commodity

Soldiers that suffered from the dreaded dysentery on the track were known to cut out the backside of their pants for the purpose of ....... I'll leave that one to your imagination.

An amazing looking seed pod on the trail

It was 25 years since I had cracked a can of that well known Cola for myself. This is by no means an advertisement of the black, bubbly stuff, but feeling a bit low - missing Julie - I did what was recommended and gulped down a can of the super, sugarised, fizzy brew. The move was an instant success with energy flowing back through my veins. A flat spot, I suspect, everyone would be going through sooner or later.

The serene but energy sapping jungle

In the afternoon the first of the two biggest hills on the track were conquered. I found myself getting stuck into the challenge and charging up this heartbreaker. What is it about the competitiveness of human kind? There was a stretch in this climb where our hands were needed to pull ourselves up the roots and rocks that were right there in our faces. Sweat was pouring down into my face, down my back, through the valley of my lower back, down my legs and into my boots. Everything I wore was drenched in sweat. Even my feet were squelching in my boots. On top I could have shaken myself like a dog after a swim. Up there we all high-fived each other and took a short break. After a discussion with Cam, a fair few of us went down to help the other hikers, either by carrying their packs or by offering moral support - another one of those memorable occasions recalled during news time.

Adam helping Nataly up the hill

Dinner was an awesome spaghetti with lentil and tomato sauce for us vegetarians. It was totally unbelievable how much food I ate on the track. All the food we ate had the sole purpose of regenerating the body and fuel it up for a hard day's toil.

Providing enough food for this hungry mob must have been a logistical challenge

Grey Bits

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The porters cater for special diets as much as they can and carry most of the food with them. Imagine how heavy their packs must have been when we first set off from the Kokoda airfield. All food and hot drinks were cooked on wood fires. Kokoda spirit buy the wood for these fires from the locals. Our rubbish was burned in the morning after breakfast.

When available fresh fruit and vegetables were bought from the locals and added to the meals or cut up for us at lunch. The bananas on the track were sweet and tasted unbelievable. You could buy them  locally as there were several pop-up shops on the way. The most popular was the "Kokoda happy meal". A can of the dark, bubbly fluid with a packet of Twisties. This was worth ten Kina in most stores. Many of the mobile market stall owners did not believe in giving change and I waited for my 1 Kina in change for a couple of minutes on one occasion just to see what happened. Except for all involved being embarrassed, nothing much happened. Fifty cents lost - oh well!

I was relieved to find the boys scrubbing the pots and crockery with a lot of soap after every meal. An awesome job.

Smiddy new the best rivers and water sources on the trail and I have to say that the water was always crystal clear and tasted like water should. Soft, untreated and a pleasure to drink. I did drop an iodine tablet in each bottle just to make sure but none of us had any problems .





You only need one pair of hiking clothes on the trail. Every evening in the village the opportunity arose to wash our clothes under a tap or in a glorious, crystal-clear stream. White is not a good colour to wear on the track. My hiking shirt was looking a brownie, smudged grey after two days playing around in these muddy hills. Do bring some warm clothes for the evenings.

You do adapt to washing yourself in a stream or under a bamboo pipe with water continuously running through it. If you are looking to have hot water, a soap holder or privacy during your shower maybe the Kokoda track is not the place for you.

Myola is named after one of the wives of a Lieutenant that served in Kokoda.

Spectacular views towards Brigade Hill 

Kokoda 5. Rusty mortars and a blow-up doll



With a large grin Smiddy handed me my dried clothes that smelled like a smoky wood fire just after the morning call went off. He must have picked them up off my tent lines the night before and dried them for me. I thanked him several times for this moving gesture during the day. Dry socks on this track is a priceless commodity. We spent most of the morning talking about our families and his plans for the future in Popondetta, where he owns a block of land near the beach and wants to set up accommodation for tourists. 

Sunday 12-06-2016 - Alola to Templeton 1

 

One of the amazing creatures we came across on the trail

“Ten minutes” Jimmy would call in the morning or at every break. This pint-sized local with his massive smile is the front man of the Kokoda caravan. When he yells out “rock and roll” we are off into the jungle. You are not allowed to pass Jimmy. You can try to go overtake him, but even though he wears thongs, his pace is pretty full on. Today I had the pleasure of burning off one of the steepest hills on the track with the boys up front. I mainly saw Pete (nicknamed Gandalf due to his enormous wooden hiking stick) and Adam up there in this hour and a half of torment. If you are looking for a physical challenge with some healthy competitive spirit thrown in, the Kokoda track is the right place for you. We soon found out that everyone has their own pace and the group became more splintered.



So much water cascades down these slopes

After heaving ourselves over some  massive hills we came to one of the first river crossings of the track. Some dodgy sticks of bamboo were loosely laid next to each other to form a makeshift bridge. A rope was strung across and held tight by some of the porters to use as a makeshift hand rail. The boys helped us all, sometimes by holding on to us, across the cool raging stream.

The troops crossing the river in the old days



I stood beside the bridge and took many photographs, but missed a good photo-op of Simon cracking one leg through the panda fodder and ending up with his backside on the usually super strength bamboo - his leg dangling precariously above the furious stream. He recovered quickly and after checking himself for splinters he walked off into the jungle with that familiar grin on his face.

 

Another hairy crossing with Kathleen still smiling

Morning tea time was gloriously sunny and the porters laid out the damp tents to dry out. From that moment on the weather was almost extravagantly luxurious for hiking. Warm in the valleys and cool up the ridges. I patted myself on the back for choosing the right time of the year to hike Kokoda. These tracks have so much potential for a wet, spirit sapping, mud bath experience which plagued the 39^th Battalion in 1942.



All tents laid out - even undies were drying

This is an excerpt from Fitzsimons Kokoda

The 39^th Battalion’s D Company, meanwhile, was hit by another Japanese ambush at the tiny village of Pirivi, but they also fought back well. In savage hand-to-hand fighting, where the bayonet did at least as much damage as the bullet, the Australians had the best of the notably bloody fighting. At the conclusion of the second engagement of the morning, the Japanese had been especially badly hit and it was they who’d withdrawn and the Australians who were momentarily masters of this bloody section of the track. So hurried was the Japanese withdrawal that they left behind their dead and some of their immobile wounded, including one Japanese soldier who had been hit in the upper thighs. He was still conscious, lying sprawled on the track, his own machine gun out of his reach as the Australians tentatively approached.

The sergeant took one look at him and gave an order: ‘Smoky’ finish him orf, he said to one of his men, ‘Smoky’ Joe Howson.

Stillness on the track. Heavy air, with insects buzzing…roaring.





 Every ounce of the Japanese soldier’s terrified consciousness was now focused, staring up at the pure blackness of the muzzle that the Australian soldier was pointing at his forehead. Pointing, not moving…

‘Smoky, finish him orf,’ the sergeant had said. Smoky knew it was obvious that the bloke could live, but he asked himself what else could he do?

‘With that I looked down,’ Smoky would recount after, ‘than he looked back at me. And I’ve been looking at those eyes ever since…’

________________________

Before lunch we inspected a Japanese mortar launching site. Incredibly there is a pile of rusty mortars and a couple of helmets laying around as if the Japs had just left there. Yes, underneath the enclosed canopy of the jungle we found out that this war was real.

 

A Japanese helmet with a morbid whole in the top amidst mortar shells



So much of the ammunition, guns, parts of shoes and equipment is still out there waiting to be found. We were assured that none of the old corroded mortars would go “boom” whilst passing them between us.

Boom?

In the afternoon high up one of the hills we found a strategically positioned foxhole dug by the Japanese a long seventy four years ago. Cameron explained with expert commentary why the Japanese had chosen this position and how the Australians would have sent a patrol up the track risking their own lives looking for an ambush just like this.

The foxhole dug by the Japanese

After being forced to retreat from Isurava the Australians, including the 39^th, took to an ambush and retreat style or a punch and run fighting strategy, trying to delay the Japanese as much as possible. The longer they were kept in the jungle and the longer their supply route became the more difficult it became for the Japanese to feed themselves and resupply their ammo. They became increasingly more hungry, frustrated and demoralised the further they went up (and down) this angry snake. When the Japanese were advancing to the rear, (apparently there is no such word as retreat in their language) later on in this war time saga, they gave us some of our own medicine with many ambush sites like the one photographed above.

Many of the locals completely disappeared during the conflict

 Today was a very tough day in the boots as we needed to make up the time and kilometres we lost due to our flights being cancelled. The hills are steep but beautiful and I spotted many plants and flowers. One such flower is believed to be the blood of the fallen soldiers by the locals of Papua New Guinea. It was growing in many places.

The blood of the soldiers

How our tired minds came to talking about “how to repair a plastic blow-up doll” is still a mystery to me but it did happen. Because I am still wired to your brain I can hear the sounds of disapproval coming from your lips. Tut tut tut!! Michelle eagerly reported the disturbingly funny highlight of her day at news time that evening. The banter was let loose after this incident.

Cameron our trusted guide provided our group with 41 laminated cards with, on each of them, a soldier that died in the current campaign in Afghanistan. At news time we were, it seemed, travelling over the bridge between the past and the present, when we read tragic stories of more young men losing their lives. The tales about these young diggers became all the more tangible because Cameron served with many of them and, as many of them were his mates, 'this' added a real personal touch. Gripping stories - far more than we possibly could have asked for.

My card read as follows

Scott Palmer, 27, a private in the 2nd Commando Regiment, serving with SOTG. He was killed in the crash of a Blackhawk helicopter on 21 June 2010, during operations in the Shah Wali Kot.


Private Scott Palmer courtesy of the Daily Telegraph

                                                            

Grey Bits

The soldiers of the 39th Battalion were told to keep what happened during the Kokoda campaign to themselves which was not unusual during wartime. It is great to see that we currently have a handful of agencies in Australia that can be called on for any returning army personnel that may be  struggling with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or depression. I selected two for your information.

 https://www.soldieron.org.au/

https://www.beyondblue.org.au/

Bree receiving a helping hand whilst crossing a raging torrent

It is common courtesy to ask parents for permission if you are taking photos of their kids.

I have found this old photograph of a soldier brandishing a Bren gun. The gun was used by Private Bruce Steel Kingsbury as described in my last blog.




A Bren gun as used in 1942

It was Joanna P that did a great job in reading the intensely sad poem "Not a Hero" at Isurava.



Jo in action