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 10. The last breath

That morning we avenged ourselves. A small group of hikers snuck up on Major Cam's tent at 5:40am and surrounded his little lime green hiking dome. It was just before the wake up call. In Good Morning Vietnam style and in unison, they yelled out 'Gooooooodmorning Cameron!!! This is day eight on the Kokoda track'. I was later told there was a lot of frantic movement inside the tent with arms and legs flapping wildly, bulging up against the canopy. Cameron admitted the plan had been well executed and used one of his favorite sayings - ‘a little bit of poo came out’.

Friday 17 June 2016

I have seen countless generous acts from the Kokoda hikers towards their porters. Event though everything I was wearing was way too big for Smiddy and two of his feet could fit into one of my boots, I decided that he was the new owner of my trusted well-worn companions, my clothes and a brand new mosquito net for his children. I was told the porters like swapping shirts and shoes with each other. There were only a couple of items floating around in Paul B’s bag when he left Papua New Guinea. His porter Dick being the recipient of all sorts of  hiking gear.



The sun trying to shine through the canopy on the last morning

My body was feeling worn out that day. The intense downhill gradient caused my toes to attack the front of my boots, time and time again. Both my little toes were mushed beyond recognition. One of the nails was black, the other nail gone. The tiny pair looking an angry red raw and started oozing puss. Walking felt like trudging barefoot over broken glass until the endorphins kicked in.

We only had 45 minutes until we reached the end of the way - Owers corner. For reasons unexplained the porters left before us that morning. Just like I started on the Kokoda track, I ended up last trying to soak up the final stretch of green, tropical forest with a twinge of nostalgia. Can it really be over?

The jungle broke open

Nataly hung back to chat to me and basically snapped me into walking mode. The short walk, a lovely gentle incline, suddenly broke into open air where everyone was waiting for us on the last gravelly, zigzag of the trail. From above us came the joyful sounds of  harmonious Papuan song. The porters formed a welcoming line and were singing with gusto. I swear I could hear a couple of lines of Country Road thrown into the mix.



The end of the trail

One more last push and there it was, the arches of Kokoda. The longest row of excited, happy faces you will ever see greeting each other –  high fiving – bro hugging – Polar Bear hugging – tears of joy. It is done, Kokoda was ours.



Pandemonium at the finish line

This was the moment we said our goodbyes to the porters. Photos were taken and details swapped. It just felt like we were all mates for life.

Paul B, Simon, the Author and Jason. Happy times at the finish

After the quiet, green tunnel the sound of the two approaching buses was deafening. To send us off, the porters decorated our bus with banana leaves, muddy handprints, and with that same mud wrote the word Lauma, meaning Spirit in the local lingo.

The Spirit travelled with us

Unfortunately, the Lauma wasn’t strong enough to carry us up that first hill. With the smell of the handbrake wafting around us, half of the group had to exit the bus and walk up. The rest of us just waved them goodbye whilst driving past.

What followed, after we were all reunited in the bus on top of the hill, was the most hair-raising ride where the corners were taken at breakneck speed. I swear I felt the back wheels of the bus slide through the corner numerous times. The driver of the bus behind us resembled a beetle-nut, chomping gremlin who started to play chasey with us. Brandishing a wicked grin, he mischievously hung out of his window trying to touch our bus. All we could do was sit there and let it happen.



How fast?

Ironically we made it alive to the Bomana cemetery.

The war memorial at the cemetery

The Bomana cemetery is a large, well kept memorial site with many white headstones placed in rows. A fitting resting place for those brave soldiers that fought in Papua New Guinea. It is vast and stunning. A total of 7,500 Australians lost their lives on the Kokoda track. This cemetery is the perfect visual display, making those numbers way more tangible.



The headstones of Bomana Cemetery

We were on the trail only eight days. Spare a thought for the Australian soldiers. Most of the 39^th Battalion were fighting on this trail for two months. It wasn’t  just a lovely, self reflecting, butterfly spotting hike they were on . They dug trenches -  they carried heavy packs – they carried their rifle and amunition – they went days without food and supplies – they buried their mates – they laid waiting  for the Japanese mortar fire to hit -  they fought an enemy outnumbering them six to one, up close, and sometimes with fixed bayonettes – they saw the most horrendous acts possibly done to men - they were left to deal with the inevitable consequences without anyone, ever, to fully comprehend what it was like. Surviving the Kokoda track in 1942 was a remarkable achievement.

Flowers at the Bomana cemetery

Don did his best, but it was little enough. Though he dressed Butch’s wounds, and gave him morphine to ease the pain, the look he gave Stan confirmed the obvious – it wouldn’t be long.

They talked of the days on the farm. That time with Uncle Abe. Of Mum and Dad. Their sister and two other brothers. Sang songs of their childhood. At that moment, they knew, Mum would be just likely turning in after making Dad a cup of tea. What about the time during the floods when they were on their raft and Stan had nearly drowned, only to be saved by Butch getting to him in the nick of time? They talked of rugby, of days with the Powerhouse Club, of things that happened in the middle east. 

Finally though, at 4.00am, while Stan was holding Butch’s hand there was a sudden slight shudder then he went limp. Stan squeezed Butch’s hand, hoping for some return pressure, a spark of life left, but there was nothing, stone cold nothing. His brother’s hand was already cold and clammy.

Butch was gone. Stan wept.

The story of the Bisset brothers as described in an excerpt from 'Kokoda' by Peter Fitzimmons

The last resting place of Butch Bisset

Next to Butch, there lays Captain Owen, Private Bruce Kingsury and way too many others that took their last breath on this muddy trail to Kokoda. It is completely mind-blowing how many unknown soldiers are buried at Bomana. The quote on their head-stones reading

A soldier of the 1939 – 1945 war.

Known unto God

We all scattered through the cemetery,each of us deep in thought. What would life have been like if they were still alive? How many lives were impacted by the death of just the one soldier. How devastating would it be losing your son to war?



The universe as we knew it - ended. Another universe without son - began.

A Soldiers Farewell To His Son

I stand and watch you, little son,
Your bosom's rise and fall,
An old rag dog beside your cheek,
A gayly coloured ball.
Your curly hair is ruffled as you
Rest there fast asleep,
And silently I tip-toe in
To have one last long peep.

I come to say farewell to you,
My little snowy son.
And as I do I hope that you will
Never slope a gun,
Or hear dive-bombers and
Their dreadful whining roar,
Or see or feel their loads of death
As overhead they soar.

I trust that you will never need
To go abroad to fight,
Or learn the awful lesson soon
That might to some is right,
Or see your cobbers blown to scraps
Or die a lingering death,
with vapours foul and filthy
When the blood-flow chokes the breath.

I hope that you will never know
The dangers of the sea.

And that is why I leave you now
To hold your liberty,
To slay the demon War God
I must leave you for a while
In mother's care - till stars again
From peaceful heaven smile.

Jo N taking a quiet moment



Your mother is your daddy now,
To guard your little ways,
Yet ever I'll be thinking of you both
In future days.
I must give up your tender years,
The joys I'll sorely miss,
My little man, farewell, so long,
I leave you with a kiss.

H Bert Berros

                                    

We all piled back into the bus after spending a good deal of time at Bomana. Driving back into Port Moresby was a new assault on the senses. We had all been used to the peace and tranquillity of Pandan forest and jungle. The Gremlin still in hot pursuit.

In the afternoon we all celebrated our achievements at the yacht club, where we had a lavish meal and drinks spending our left over Kina.



The view from the yacht club

That evening, my brother-in-law Simon lent me his phone to call Julie. At the moment of the call I had a sudden allergic reaction, causing a flow of tears when I saw her on the mobile screen. This was the first time we had been able to talk to each other for eight days. Many moments I wished she was sharing this experience with me, but it would have been murder on her knees.

The cocktail of panadol, neurofen and beer knocked me out. With regret, I missed the presentation of the certificates for the completion of the Kokoda track - I was fast asleep in my hotel room. An unpredictable, unscripted finish to a tremendous experience.

Grey Bits



Peter soaking it all up

If you would like to walk with Kokoda Spirit, here is their website http://www.kokodaspirit.com.au/



Mark all smiles at the finish

The fighting in 1942 didn't stop after the Japanese advanced to the rear. They were dug in at Gona, Buna and Sanananda. It took one of the bloodiest battles in Australian history to clear those beach heads. If you would like to read about this conflict, please click on this excellent link

https://www.awm.gov.au/sites/default/files/2013%20James%20Brien,%20Bloody_Beachheads_Ver_15.pdf


Australian soldiers on their way to Gona

Kokoda 1. Grounded Butterflies

The public infinity pool in Cairns

 

 

Adelaide to Cairns Tuesday 7 June 2016

“Hi boys. Just arrived in Cairns. Hopped straight into my shorts. Taken socks off and out of crocs and switched to reggae mode. Looking forward to meeting. Mars” This is the text message I sent on arrival to the three mates I am about to hike Kokoda with.

 

Cairns during my evening stroll

I was well awake before the alarm went off. I am yet to have a goodnight sleep before a flight. Excitement getting the better of the Zzzz’s. Never before have I been to Cairns, Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea let alone been on such a unique track with a huge war history. The elderly couple sitting next to me on the flight new about it as they both spent time in the army. They understood the significance of the jungle warfare at Kokoda and that not a lot of people realise that Papua New Guinea at the time was part of Australian Territory.

 

After a seamless flight and transfer, I arrived at the “Dreamtime” backpackers where a Dutch girl behind the counter had only ever been to PNG to go surfing. I gave her a brief history lesson on Kokoda with lots of waving arm gestures. Japanese troops invaded Gona and Buna on the 21st of July 1942. It is estimated around 12,000 Japanese troops landed in Gona in '42 and occupied the North of Papua. Their plan was to take Kokoda airport with their elite, well trained soldiers and surprise the Australians in Port Moresby by sneaking up on the Kokoda track. It is well documented that the crack Japanese invading force were confident to take Port Moresby (POM) and that they would be gunning for Australia next, using the airport of Port Moresby as their base for an all out assault on Australia. I hope your eyes haven't glazed over as badly as the girl behind the counter. Probably all just double Dutch to her.

So, while sitting at the backpackers, checking out a combie van with a psychedelic paint job all over it in the court yard, I look forward to completely immersing myself in this tail of courage and mate-ship. In my little blogging and travel world, the Kokoda story has to be my most significant yet. I want to pay respect to the soldiers and write this story for anyone who will listen, for my partner Julie and for my two boys who are, at this moment, the exact age of the young men that put their lives on the line for Australia.

 

You gotta love the combie

In the quiet of my backpacker room, I re-read the passages I have marked in Peter Fitzsimons “Kokoda” with yellow stickers. The  plan is to carry the book along, read it to the group of hikers at night and hopefully add to the experience. Here is a passage I found striking.

Amid the screaming, explosions of grenade's and chattering of machine guns there was never a bird to be seen, but curiously the bountiful butterflies seemed entirely unaffected. It was not uncommon for soldiers on both sides to be fixing bayonets to fight for their very lives when, at the moment of highest tension, enormous butterflies of the most extraordinary colours and contours are lighted on the helmets of those about to charge. Gods own insects wafted away, of course, at the first serious movement forward, but to the soldiers who saw them at such moments, the butterflies always seemed to project a sense that, whatever the hostilities of the moment between man, they represented timeless nature, have been there long before man entered their domain, and would be there long after he was beneath the sod.

The nature reference in this excerpt is, in my mind, a brilliant touch and I am humbly demanding to see, other than all the war and tragedy, a butterfly or two on the track.

 



A butterfly at Disappointment Rock, Western Australia 

Cairns to ………. Cairns??? Wednesday 8 June 2016

“The world is an exciting, unpredictable place.”

I met Jason, who flew in from Perth overnight, in front of the Dreamtime backpackers and after a short stroll we enjoyed breaky and a good catch up whilst overlooking the "Iron Man Cairns" where preparations are going on in full swing. Sunny, warm, Cairns in my opinion is a beautiful place. It is clean, the surrounding hills are magnificent and especially from the foreshore one can enjoy million dollar views. Life could not get much better. The shuttle bus to the airport was a bit late and the customs officer apologetically confiscated my jar of peanut butter as it weighed 125 grams - 25 grams more than allowed. Putting up with dry crackers on Kokoda does not seem like much of a hardship. Putting up with lost baggage does. We met two fellow hikers, Dee an Jo N, whose bags were inexplicably lost in transit. “Bugger”. Imagine what we are going to smell like after nine days of hiking in the same clothes they said.

My brother-in-law Simon appeared in the departure lounge of Cairns and the coffee and chat that followed were sublime. We met a large group from Sydney at gate 2 and the 11 of us were all laughing and carrying on. We know we are going to conquer that bloody jungle track together or are we????

A sudden business like announcement five minutes before boarding by a pretty blonde, uniformed Qantas staff member, said something about unrest in Port Moresby. What did she say? Flight cancelled? What? Nooo!!!! Yes, no matter how much disbelief or shock we felt, nothing is going to change the fact that QJ191 is officially grounded.



Meanwhile at the Cairns terminal. Do we look worried?



The more technologically advanced among us check out what is really happening in POM by Googling the news broadcasts. I remember Paul M doing a great job getting in touch with Kokoda Spirit and sharing the information with us all. A peaceful anti-government student protest was opened fire on by police. Four students died and 11 were wounded. Qantas cancelled all flights into the Papuan capital. A bit of a setback for us, disastrous for those students and their families.

 

The student protest. Photo courtesy of Fiji One TV

 

 

My phone rings and it is Paul B who is flying from Brisbane. His Qantas flight with a group of eight fellow Kokoda hikers actually took flight to Port Moresby and with 15 minutes to go, the plane mysteriously changed direction. Everyone thought the aircraft was preparing to land when the captain made the unexpected “trouble in Port Moresby” announcement and abruptly turned his plane back to Brisbane. Six hours on a flight to nowhere. I can only imagine the frustration of those passengers.

 

I spoke to a young girl who was going to Papua New Guinea for a funeral of a friend. I hope she made it there in time.

From the announcement onwards, Qantas looked after us very well. We were driven in a comfy shuttle bus back to Cairns and put up in a nice hotel. A $50 voucher pressed in our hands for dinner and breakfast. Have you noticed how people bond a lot faster when bad things happen? We sat and had beers together, some of us went out on the town in Cairns but everyone got along well. The onset of our Kokoda team had begun.

 

One of the tools used during our team building session

Watching the news broadcast in my hotel room was surreal. Our prime minister Malcolm Turnbull, foreign minister and the Papua New Guinean Prime Minister all commenting about the Port Moresby protests and the cancelled flights. A rare occasion in an average human life when you find out the news is related to you.

The room courtesy of Qantas

Grey Bits


If you like to have a look at the combie of love at the Dreamtime backpackers, please go to http://www.dreamtimehostel.com/

I am just as surprised as you that I am not blogging about PNG today.

One good thing that came out of our cancelled flight is that Dee and Jo N were reunited with their lost bags as their luggage had plenty of time to catch up with the travellers.

We found out that three other hikers are already in Port Moresby and we are all hoping that they are safe and well. In total that makes 23 hikers all up if you were doing the maths.