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 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. 

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