Going to War
From Canungra they transported us by troop train to Townsville, where we embarked on an old troopship called the ‘Katoomba’. The time it was to sail was a closely guarded secret. All I know is I woke up out of a sound sleep in my hammock ‘spewing’ (buggers of things those bloody hammocks) which continued for 24 hours every day for seven days without let up. When you don’t eat it doesn’t help you to ‘dry-retch’. Your stomach turns over and nothing comes out except maybe a little bile. I don’t think there is any worse malady except maybe malaria which I have had three times.
We eventually arrived there after surviving not being torpedoed by a Jap sub; the bastard had already just sunk a hospital ship, the ‘Centaur’ with the loss of hundreds of lives, only a couple of miles out from Cairns. Upon our arrival they loaded us onto ‘duks’. After sailing through a choppy swell for about a mile the ‘duks’ drove straight up onto the beach where we were then offloaded onto waiting trucks to our encampment.
It was then that I was sent to reinforce the 19th Australian Infantry Battalion already located there at a base area which had already been overrun. I was then allocated to 7 Platoon, A Company and shown to my tent which was occupied by several other men of my section. I had already been given a rifle with a grenade launcher attached. It was not my scene. Since I was 14 I was always an avid rifleman and did not want to be some bloody bombardier. Within minutes of sitting on my stretcher I noticed this little guy with a Bren-gun (a light machine gun fitted with a 30 round magazine and weighing approximately 12 kilos – a very formidable weapon indeed and one of the most popular firearms ever invented.
I soon made everybody present aware of my distaste of the ‘thing’ I had been given and said to the guy with the Bren “I hate this bloody thing; I wish I was on the Bren”. The little guy looked at me in amazement. He then disappeared out of the tent and within minutes reappeared with the Platoon corporal. The ‘Corp’ looked at me somewhat bewildered; “Private Smith I have been given to believe that you want to go on the Bren. Is that correct? OK Private Smith you are now the Bren-gunner”. The little guy breathed a sigh of relief. I was ecstatic. “I’ll be there when the whips are cracking” I said!
Sometimes in a show of bravado to convince anybody in your close proximity that you are not lacking in courage one might be heard to exclaim: “I’ll be there when the whips are cracking!” But say what you will it is only the ‘moment of truth’ that separates the men from the boys.
There was a little river which we crossed over every night to watch movies on the American circuit but all that recreation was soon to come to an end when we were sent on a liberty ship (an all steel welded ship - not riveted as were all other ships at the time) which was to transport us to New Britain.
After an eight day voyage zigzagging all the time in an effort to avoid some lurking submarine we managed to arrive unscathed at a ‘behind the lines’ base called Jacquinot Bay. Apart from being sick again I would like to tell you that we had to both shave and wash in salt water (cold). We also found out that soap does not lather in salt water.
To continue; we then had to scale down a rope-like lattice work slung down over the side of the ship with weapons and haversacks over our shoulders onto amphibious ‘duks’, just like you see in the movies; after that sailing for about a mile and up onto the beach the same as before; then onto trucks again to our camp.
After about a week there they loaded the whole Battalion onto landing barges and sailed up the coast for about 12 hours (sick again) to a place called ‘Catup’ in the wide bay area of New Britain towards Rabaul, a big Japanese base of about 100,000 men that had been captured from a small Australian garrison, namely the 2nd-22 Battalion.
When their Commanding Officer saw them coming, he sent a message to Canberra in Latin {morituri te salutant - my note}, translated; we who are about to die salute you, like the Gladiators of Ancient Rome. But more about that later.
After marching for about a week we set up camp again; that night they sent us down to the beach to unload stores from American barges. It had to be done at night because of the danger of being stopped by Jap zeros (Japanese fighter aircraft).
About 9pm I wasn’t feeling well so the ‘Lieut’ told me to go up to the camp and lay down for a while. On the way I was challenged by a sentry. He said “halt who goes there” twice. As I said, I was sick, I wasn’t feeling too well so I said to myself, “the stupid idiot. Here we are still miles away from the nearest Japs and here he is saying halt who goes there”. He said it again, this time with a little ‘menace’ in his voice. I thought I had better say something so I said “okay mate it’s only me”. He then screamed at me and said “f@#k you Smithy I was just about to pull the trigger when I recognised your voice”. I nearly shit in my pants. Anyway, enough of that.