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Authors: Peter Ryan
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the stranger.
He was so surprised that he almost fell off the veranda, and his relief when he recognized
us as friends was almost as great as ours had been.
‘Well, I’ll be buggered!’ was all either of us could say at first as we shook hands
warmly and went inside the house to make introductions and explanations. Kari meanwhile
shouted to Achenmeri that all was well, and told him to bring the others into the
village.
The stranger sat down at once on the edge of his bed-sail, and I noticed that he
looked pale and sick.
‘Fever,’ he explained briefly.‘I got here yesterday and I’ve felt pretty crook since.
It’ll pass, though,’ he added. He had the philosophical attitude towards his sickness
that characterized most of the men who had had many attacks of malaria.
He told me his name was Les Williams, and that he was a member of a special party
sent up from Australia on a secret mission into the Huon Peninsula.
‘Do you know about Jock McLeod being in there?’ I asked.
‘Sure. I’ve met up with him already, and I’m just on my way to rejoin him. My chief
is in there with Jock now.’
‘Who’s in charge of your show?’
‘A bloke called Ian Downs. He’s a lieutenant in the Navy now, but he was a New Guinea
patrol officer in peacetime.’
Stacked at one end of the rickety bamboo floor was Les’s patrol gear. A couple of
the boxes looked as though they might contain a radio transmitter and receiver.
‘Can you tell me some more about your set-up?’ I asked. ‘Or is there too much of
the cloak-and-dagger hush-hush?’
‘Seeing you’re here, you might as well know. You’d pretty soon find out,’ he added
with a grin. ‘Anyhow, I expect we’ll all work in together, Jock and Ian have been
co-operating.’
He shivered, and lay back on the bed, pulling a blanket over him.
‘Before you go on,’ I said, ‘tell me about that sub-machine-gun. It had me tricked.’
‘That’s easy – it’s only a Sten gun. They aren’t on issue generally to Australian
troops yet, but some special parties like ours are being equipped with them.’
Outside there was laughter and chattering as Kari and Achenmeri got acquainted with
the natives of Les’s party, and the luluai and his men told the rest of the inhabitants
how astonished I’d been at finding another white man here. We stopped to listen for
a moment, and then Les went on to give me more details of his plans.
It appeared that Ian Downs had established a base camp south of the Markham, at the
native village of Tungu, on the Watut River. There he had a powerful radio set manned
by signallers. The boxes on the floor with Les’s patrol gear contained, as I suspected,
a radio set, a small one intended for sending messages to Tungu, whence they could
be relayed to Port Moresby or to Australia, but unfortunately it was out of action.
Les had brought it to Tungu to see whether it could be repaired, but it needed some
new parts, and he had arranged to have these sent after him. Our only means of communication,
at present, therefore, was by runner, either to Bob’s or to the Tungu base camp.
Ian Downs’s party was collecting as much information about Japanese activities in
this area as possible, as a prelude to a projected full-scale attack on Lae later
in the year. Apparently Land Headquarters in Melbourne had had no idea of Jock McLeod’s
movements, and Ian had been astonished to find him on the peninsula.
Les was now on his way to rejoin Jock and Ian, after bringing the radio to Tungu.
He had made his crossing of the Markham higher up than Kirkland’s, moving across
country to Bivoro.
Since he had been to Jock’s camp near Gain, and expected to find him still there,
we decided to make our way to Gain together.
Although next day Les felt better, he was still not well enough to travel, and we
spent the day reading, yarning, and smoking, and drinking innumerable pots of tea.
I took some pidgin English lessons from him, and though I was at last
He was so surprised that he almost fell off the veranda, and his relief when he recognized
us as friends was almost as great as ours had been.
‘Well, I’ll be buggered!’ was all either of us could say at first as we shook hands
warmly and went inside the house to make introductions and explanations. Kari meanwhile
shouted to Achenmeri that all was well, and told him to bring the others into the
village.
The stranger sat down at once on the edge of his bed-sail, and I noticed that he
looked pale and sick.
‘Fever,’ he explained briefly.‘I got here yesterday and I’ve felt pretty crook since.
It’ll pass, though,’ he added. He had the philosophical attitude towards his sickness
that characterized most of the men who had had many attacks of malaria.
He told me his name was Les Williams, and that he was a member of a special party
sent up from Australia on a secret mission into the Huon Peninsula.
‘Do you know about Jock McLeod being in there?’ I asked.
‘Sure. I’ve met up with him already, and I’m just on my way to rejoin him. My chief
is in there with Jock now.’
‘Who’s in charge of your show?’
‘A bloke called Ian Downs. He’s a lieutenant in the Navy now, but he was a New Guinea
patrol officer in peacetime.’
Stacked at one end of the rickety bamboo floor was Les’s patrol gear. A couple of
the boxes looked as though they might contain a radio transmitter and receiver.
‘Can you tell me some more about your set-up?’ I asked. ‘Or is there too much of
the cloak-and-dagger hush-hush?’
‘Seeing you’re here, you might as well know. You’d pretty soon find out,’ he added
with a grin. ‘Anyhow, I expect we’ll all work in together, Jock and Ian have been
co-operating.’
He shivered, and lay back on the bed, pulling a blanket over him.
‘Before you go on,’ I said, ‘tell me about that sub-machine-gun. It had me tricked.’
‘That’s easy – it’s only a Sten gun. They aren’t on issue generally to Australian
troops yet, but some special parties like ours are being equipped with them.’
Outside there was laughter and chattering as Kari and Achenmeri got acquainted with
the natives of Les’s party, and the luluai and his men told the rest of the inhabitants
how astonished I’d been at finding another white man here. We stopped to listen for
a moment, and then Les went on to give me more details of his plans.
It appeared that Ian Downs had established a base camp south of the Markham, at the
native village of Tungu, on the Watut River. There he had a powerful radio set manned
by signallers. The boxes on the floor with Les’s patrol gear contained, as I suspected,
a radio set, a small one intended for sending messages to Tungu, whence they could
be relayed to Port Moresby or to Australia, but unfortunately it was out of action.
Les had brought it to Tungu to see whether it could be repaired, but it needed some
new parts, and he had arranged to have these sent after him. Our only means of communication,
at present, therefore, was by runner, either to Bob’s or to the Tungu base camp.
Ian Downs’s party was collecting as much information about Japanese activities in
this area as possible, as a prelude to a projected full-scale attack on Lae later
in the year. Apparently Land Headquarters in Melbourne had had no idea of Jock McLeod’s
movements, and Ian had been astonished to find him on the peninsula.
Les was now on his way to rejoin Jock and Ian, after bringing the radio to Tungu.
He had made his crossing of the Markham higher up than Kirkland’s, moving across
country to Bivoro.
Since he had been to Jock’s camp near Gain, and expected to find him still there,
we decided to make our way to Gain together.
Although next day Les felt better, he was still not well enough to travel, and we
spent the day reading, yarning, and smoking, and drinking innumerable pots of tea.
I took some pidgin English lessons from him, and though I was at last
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