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 9. Wet Boots and Deserted Gardens



The following blog may be distressing for some and is written for a mature audience only.



A Japanese poem written on a scarf by Mrs Matsuo courtesy
of the Australian war memorial

Lining it up, lining it up …. lining it up …. now.

The bomb doors open and Little Boy hurtled down into the oblivious city below at the instant of release – suddenly unburdened of 10,000 pounds of weight – Enola Gay lurched upwards, and Tibbets quickly put into effect long months of training. In as tight a turn as Enola could manage without breaking up, he immediately put as much distance between them and the coming explosion as possible. And sure enough just forty-three seconds from the moment of release, as Tibbets would describe it later, ‘ I look up there and the whole sky is lit up in the prettiest blues and pinks I have ever seen in my life. It was just great’. The other thing he noticed was the tingling in his teeth, as his fillings interacted with the bomb’s radioactive pulses. When the shock wave hit them from the mushroom cloud that billowed up behind them to an altitude of 45,000 feet, Enola Gay again briefly lurched, but steadied and then continued on its way.

The bomb was only slightly off target. Instead of exploding above the Aioi Bridge as planned, it vaporised the Shima Hospital, some three hundred yards to the southeast. Some 140,000 of Hiroshima were all but instantly killed. 

Another stunning excerpt from Peter Fitzsimons' book 'Kokoda'

                                                      

Thursday 16^th June 2016

Iorabawa to Goldie river



A bandana drying on one of the tents

How disciplined have we become? Like a well drilled crack team everyone had packed, eaten and were standing around chatting well before Jimmies Rock and Roll call at 6:30am. There was genuine belly laughter that morning when one of us mistakenly took a firefly for someone approaching with a head torch. So much banter arose from these kind of  incidents throughout the trek, uplifting our spirits.




The Kokoda track almost completed. Map courtesy of
http://kokoda.commemoration.gov.au/about-the-kokoda-track/

Today was wet boot day. Instructions from Cam were to not take our shoes off for each of the 22 river crossings as this would take forever. He encouraged us to ‘wade straight through’ as the safer option.



Paul M wading straight through

This was a first for me. I have never just walked straight through water with my boots on. There isn’t a lot of flooded tracks in West Australia to splash around in but here there is plenty. My blistered, sore feet protested at first but soon enjoyed the coolness of the water. The river crossings and forest surrounding this stretch of the track were immensely beautiful. It being the penultimate day I felt obliged to soak it all in even more. Many rocks and mouldy logs were covered in vivid green moss. In the rivers the larger rocks were black and dangerously slippery. The small pebbly rocks the most steady course for our feet.



Mates up the creek

The two atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki Ended the war with Japan in the most insane and cruellest way imaginable. Three years prior to the bombing the tide turned at Iorabaiwa .



The early morning shot from Iorabaiwa

Following the Australian withdrawal from Iorbaiwa the soldiers were dug in at Imita Ridge where the troops were reinforced notably with some large guns. "You die on Imita ridge" the Australians were told. No more retreating.



The soldiers dragging a heavy gun up to Imita ridge

Meanwhile the Japanese, plagued by tropical diseases, lack of supplies and motivation were suddenly ordered by their higher command to 'advance to the rear'. The Japanese 144th division was needed to reinforce the troops in Buna. On the 28 September 1942, the Diggers pushed tentatively from Imita ridge down towards Iorabaiwa finding little to no resistance. Disaster for Port Moresby and Australia averted - the roles reversed - the chase was on.




Their coveted Japanese imperial army flag courtesy of Wikipedia

Pushing the Japanese back on the Kokoda track wasn't an easy task. There were several bloody jungle battles along the way with the Japanese using the same ambush and retreat delaying tactics as they had received. 

It became clear to the advancing Australians how much the Japanese had suffered when they found out that they had been eating the flesh of diseased Australian soldiers out of sheer desperation. Single shots had rung out, not directed at the Australians but from behind enemy lines. This could only mean the wounded Japanese soldiers were finished off by their own. It was impossible to carry the wounded back to safety over this terrain. There was no time to cremate them as per Japanese custom. Many bodies were found completely emaciated and some of them had been dead for many days. 

Some of the injured Japanese were given two grenade's and left on the track. One grenade for the approaching Aussie's, one for themselves.

A starving Japanese prisoner This picture and information were found at http://www.ww2australia.gov.au/beachheads/thin.html

Corporal Nishimura weighed less than 30 kilograms at the end of this incredible torment. He was the only soldier left alive of his division. Nishimura pledged he would return to PNG and recover the remains of his fallen comrades. He did so, many years later, and lived in Popondetta. (Smiddy's home town) for 26 years. Nishimura became known as 'the bone man of Kokoda'. Kokichi Nishimura died  in October 2015.



Corporal Nishimura after recovering in Korea
from his ordeal on the Kokoda track

13,500 Japanese soldiers never returned home from the Kokoda track.



I nurtured my son just as I grew precious flowers

So that he could dedicate himself to the Emperor.

Now that the storm has passed

And all the cherry blossoms have blown away,

The garden looks very deserted.

Lieutenant Matsuo's mother wrote this poem to commemorate her son's death in the midget submarine attack on Sydney Harbour on 31 May/1 June 1942. You can find this poem at the following link http://www.ww2australia.gov.au/underattack/

                                          

And there it was, the foot of the number one climb, the final major event of the Kokoda track, the imperative Imita ridge. We had a relaxing morning tea at the foot of the hill where, to my alarm , I was bitten by the only mosquito I had seen on the track. This is also the spot where I took the photo of Kerri as she is laying down in amongst the jungle. You can barely see her. 



Immersion, reflection or just exhaustion after seven days in the jungle

We all put in one hell of a herculean effort getting up Imita ridge  –  the calves burning – sweat soaked bodies – breathing like steamtrains – but after seven days fitter than ever, right? We all encouraged and helped each other up this blinder. The high fives on top of the ridge were flowing freely. We just broke the back of this trail and we all basked in a state of euphoria, together.

Smiddy, who found out that Craig was struggling that day went back down the hill to help him out. Loud cheers were heard when they made it to the top.



The steep rocky outcrop above Imita ridge

We had seen two other groups on the track from other companies coming our way. This time we met another group from Kokoda Spirit. They kind of looked a bit bewildered and shy as we got stuck into the conversation straight away. We told them enthusiastically what lucky bastards they were to have most of the track still ahead of them. ‘Your group looks a bit tired’ said one of their members. I agreed with her but told her we were all having a brilliant time. They wore clean clothes and smelled like aftershave and perfume - very much the opposite to our sweat and mould, jungle bouquet.



Having fun in the Goodwater river

Our ultimate reward for all that intense hiking we did came that afternoon. We arrived at Goldie river at 2:30pm. This gave us most of the afternoon to snooze, swim, chat and relax. A rare occasion.



Adam in conversation that afternoon

Paul B relaxing













At the final news time of this journey we talked about our overall experiences on the Kokoda track. Most of us referring back to one of the granite rocks on Isurava with the one word carved into it – ‘mateship’.





Time to let it all hang out

Grey Bits


Why did Japan start the Pacific war? I found this article on Wikipedia helpful in understanding the history of this war.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Empire_of_Japan

The view over the Goldie River

More information about Nishimura 'the Bone Man of Kokoda' can be found in the links below:

http://apjjf.org/-David-McNeill/2821/article.html

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2010-01-25/bone-man-offers-help-in-kokoda-digger-mystery/307402