All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, scanning, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author.

The official languages of Papua are Tok Pisin, English, Hiri Motu, and Papua New Guinean Sign Language. Tok Pisin is a largely English-based creole and is the most widely spoken and serves as the country's lingua franca. Papua New Guinean Sign Language became the fourth official language in 2015, and is used by the deaf population throughout the country. Tok Pisin is used extensively in the following account. As a written language it is spelt phonetically.

Cover photograph: the author crossing a small suspension bridge in the Yalumet area of the Kabwum Sub-district of the then Morobe District, Territory of , 1971.

Copyright © 2019 Paul Oates All rights reserved. ISBN: 9781707077939

DEDICATION

To all those who went before me and with me.

CONTENTS

1 Murder most foul Page 1 2 Another world, a different era Page 5 3 Becoming a Patrol Officer Page 11 4 My first patrol Page 28 5 Pindiu Page 43 6 Parades and station Management Page 53 7 Mindik Base Camp Page 58 8 The annual Village census patrol Page 72 9 Bulum Valley villages - Ogeranang & Selimbeng Page 78 10 Communications Page 85 11 The 1970 Show & kaikai Page 94 12 Longlongs, cargo cults & missions Page 103 13 Kabwum Page 111 14 Medical Matters, adultery & passing wind Page 129 15 Aseki Page 141 16 Tok Pisin Page 153 17 Wau Page 160 18 Sialum Page 181 19 Rough landings, fishing and the importance of directions Page 204 20 Finschhafen Page 212 Epilogue Page 227 Acknowledgements Page 234 About the author Page 235

Chapter 1

Murder, most foul

Most people would remember the first time they saw a dead body. I had a number of reasons to remember mine. One of those reasons was because it was a murdered, new born baby or an infanticide. The worst kind of dead bodies were those that had to be exhumed for investigation. Air crash victims were almost as bad however, especially when the plane had burnt on impact. The village of Morago was roughly about 5 hours walk away to the North East from Pindiu Patrol Post. Acting on information, the Officer in Charge (OIC) sent a policeman to the village to investigate a rumoured murder. The Constable returned in a couple of days with the village ‘komiti’ (local level government committee man), and an extended family group carrying a suitcase containing the body of a dead child. In most of Papua New Guinea’s Huon Peninsula, the Lutheran Mission had a powerful presence as it had been well established since German colonial times. Missionaries came in all shades however but the insistence on monogamous marriages and the western style kind of relationships was very big. Enormous shame and humiliation applied to anything resembling a return to traditional culture. This attitude clashed directly with the situation where a large number of single women lived in the villages and most young men went to the towns to try and earn some money. Many husbands were away from the village and their wives for years at a time. Temptation was always close at hand, especially with the high

1 Small Steps Along the Way degree of communal living. Nevertheless, it was a big shame when an illegitimate child was born in the village although many were. It was a far greater shame however when the mother was married to someone in the village but who had not been home for many years. Little by little, the story came out that the girl had claimed she had a bad case of wind and had taken a long time to get rid of it. The village ‘komiti’ was however a very diligent man and he searched and searched to find the baby. He finally found the body, two weeks after the birth and in a rubbish tip where the mother had buried it. This was a tropical rubbish tip so the body had started to significantly decay. Not good! It started to rain heavily as the OIC sent me, a policeman and the villagers up the road to the Mission run hospital at Wagazaring. It took us over two hours to walk up the ‘kiap’ road to the hospital in the now torrential rain. Our group included the mother and extended family plus the suitcase containing the body, the village ‘komiti’, Const. 1/c Temba and myself. All of us arrived at the hospital like drowned rats. There was a young doctor relieving there at the time and I explained to him that we needed a qualified medical examination of the body to determine, if possible, what was the cause of death. The doctor put on rubber gloves and we repaired to an examination room and opened the suitcase. Someone had sprinkled talcum powder over the body to help cover the smell however this had failed miserably. I asked if I could smoke and having been told I could, tried to perfume the air with ‘Blend 11’ tobacco from my pipe. The child was perfectly formed and had a clearly evident bruise around his neck. It was obvious that it had been strangled. It was possible that its neck was also broken as the head flopped around on top of the body. I tried to concentrate on writing up what I saw and what the doctor was saying. The smell just got worse and worse in spite of the copious blue smokescreen I was emitting. After completing my notes, the body was placed back in the suitcase and I thanked the doctor for his help. It was still raining ‘cats and dogs’ as we started back down the hill to the patrol post. The rain was so thick that we could hardly hear ourselves talk as we walked along the road. This was a kiap

2 Small Steps Along the Way road, cut into the side of the mountain and formed out of red laterite clay. The traditional kiap road was 3.6 metres wide and was supposed to consist of a minimum 2.4 metre of cut and 1.2 metres of fill. It should also be slightly cambered into the mountainside to give drainage. These roads wound around the ridges and valleys, usually set at a reasonable incline to permit vehicular traffic. The villagers moved out in front of Corporal Temba and myself and disappeared around the bend where the road continued around a ridge. I turned to Temba and started to make a point about the investigation. Suddenly there was a crack like a rifle going off and a loud BOOM and the mountainside crashed down at our feet and right where we would have been if I hadn’t stopped to chat. Tons of trees, rocks and clay had become waterlogged and couldn’t maintain their grip on the hillside. When I got back to the station, the OIC said I looked a bit green. I told him what had happened and he said I needed a drink. He poured me four fingers of Buka Meri (Rhum Negrita), that good old rum of yesteryear. “Get that into you,” he said. Looking at my notepad later, as I was typing my report up, I found my writing in the pad had started off neatly enough but had visibly deteriorated as I got to the more odiferous parts. Some weeks later, I was required to go to the Sub-district HQ at Finschhafen to testify at the District Court run by the Assistant District Commissioner. Murders could not be heard by the Local Court in Pindiu and this case needed the resident Police Officer at Finschhafen to conduct the prosecution. The outcome was that the mother was convicted and given two years gaol, due to the extenuating circumstances. I noticed that there were lots of mosquitoes at Finschhafen but didn’t think too much of it. My initial supply of anti-malarial (Nivaquine) had given out some time earlier and the local Aid Post Orderly had given me some Camoquine instead. What I didn’t know is that he had only given me infant strength Camoquine, not adult strength. Now we had been briefed at ASOPA about taking anti-malarials. The briefing went like this: If you take your malarial depressants, you won’t get malaria however if you do get malaria, take two

3 Small Steps Along the Way tablets after each episode. I didn’t spot what was patently wrong with that advice until later. Not long after I returned to Pindiu from Finschhafen, I felt as if I was coming down with a bad case of the flu. The usual aches and pains started however it then began to feel like there was sandpaper between all my joints. It became painful to move and if I looked up, I just about passed out with a headache. Still none the wiser, (remember we couldn’t get malaria if we took our pills), I retired that night to my SOQ (Single Officers Quarters) to wake up about 10 o’clock feeling distinctly unwell. Suddenly I felt cold and my whole body went into an uncontrollable spasm of quivering. I couldn’t stop shaking and had no control over my body. This went on for hours until sometime in the early morning when I found I could relax. I also found my bed was sopping with sweat. Feeling very weak, I reported for work that morning and carried on through the day at the office. The next night, the same thing happened. The following day I was fortunate to see the young Wagazaring doctor at the airstrip and asked him about my symptoms. He immediately told me I had malaria. When I showed him the pills, he told me what I was taking were only an infant’s doses and to increase the dose. Slowly the symptoms went away over the next few days. Now, if you have never been told what malaria feels like and you don’t expect to get the disease, how do you know what it feels like when you get it? So now you know how malaria affected me. I can remember the agony and pain when I was shaking (rigoring) being so bad, I wished I could die. I had been working in Papua New Guinea for less than a couple of months.

4

Chapter 2

Another world, a different Era

A child of the late 1940’s, I grew up experiencing my father's generation and their reticence in talking about the 1939/45 War. Many ‘returned’ Service people found it very hard to talk about their experiences and if they did, it was usually only to their mates. If we had left it up to them, would we truly know what it was like? The Edwardian tradition of 'a stiff upper lip', hid many an unseen injury and helped cover up the true impact of conflict on a person's feelings. Post-traumatic stress disorder was not a recognised injury in those days. When my mother married my father in 1943 during the war, she was sent a letter from the bank where she worked that she could continue to work at the bank as a temporary employee until ‘the cessation of hostilities’. In a sign of the times, culture then demanded that married women were not permitted to work after their marriage. Considering how greatly times have changed, how can one convey something to someone of another age who has never seen or experienced the same conditions and finds what you are talking about almost impossible to imagine? I remember being read at school a section from a book by a man who claimed to have travelled to the Amazon rainforest. He claimed to have taken a drug he obtained from the resident Indians there. After taking the drug, he wrote that he saw objects in more than three dimensions and in different colours to the normal colour spectrum.

5 Small Steps Along the Way

We were then posed the question: How do you describe a colour to someone who has never seen it before? I often wondered afterwards if he might have been able to perceive the infra-red or ultra violet part of the spectrum that birds can see but we can't with our naked eye.

The Australian administration of Papua New Guinea

The Australian Administration of Papua New Guinea began in the 1880’s with the then colony of Queensland forcing the British Government to accept the South Eastern part of the island of New Guinea as a new colony called British New Guinea, later changed to Papua when assumed responsibility. This action was in response to Germany annexing the North Eastern part of the island, or that not yet claimed by the Netherlands who previously claimed the Western half of the island. After two world wars and two mandates from the League of Nations and then its successor, the United Nations, Australia ended up having a UN mandate to govern New Guinea and combining that administration with that of Papua and creating one Territory of Papua New Guinea (TPNG). The administration of TPNG was managed by a bureaucratic style of dictatorship whereby the Territory had an Administrator, who was responsible to the Australian Parliament through the Minister of External Territories. Below the Administrator there were a number of departments but arguably, the most important was one that went by a number of name changes. In the late 1960’s it was called the Department of District Administration. District Administration was the term whereby the Territory was then split up into 18 Districts. Each District had a District Commissioner, a Deputy District Commissioner, Assistant District Commissioners and a number of field staff on isolated outstations called Patrol Posts and Base Camps. The field staff went by a number of titles depending on seniority, including District Officer, Assistant District Officer, Patrol Officer and Cadet and then latterly, Assistant Patrol Officer. In the lingua franca of Papua these officers were known in Police or Hiri Motu as ‘Taubada’, a term that roughly translates to Big Man and was traditionally used to describe the Motuan captain of a large

6 Small Steps Along the Way ocean going, double hulled canoe. These large canoes were used by the Motuan people of the large villages around Hanuabada where the settlement and now the capital city of was first built. The common term for an administration field officer in New Guinea was ‘Kiap’, a Melanesian word that was thought to be a contraction of the German word ‘kapitan’. The term Kiap was starting to be become synonymous with an Administration field officer throughout PNG by the time I arrived in 1969. ‘Kiaps’ could be differentiated in Melanesian Tok Pisin by stating their level at each outstation. There could be a ‘namba wan’ kiap (number one kiap), of an outstation that could refer to the Officer in Charge, or to an Assistant District Commissioner if the outstation was a Sub- district. The lowly Assistant Patrol Officer on his first two-year stint was usually known by either his place in the ‘pecking order’ (e.g. 2, 3 or on a large station, 4), or, usually behind his back, just simply ‘liklik kiap’ (small kiap). For young officers with virtually no field experience, the term ‘manki nating’ (virtually ‘a child’), might also be bandied about by locals if they didn’t think much of the officer. Administration field staff were stationed in various outstations throughout the Territory and were responsible and accountable for the administration of all government activities in their local area. The responsibilities of these TPNG field staff were many and varied and bore no real equivalent to any position in a so called ‘developed’ country. There were in the late 1960’s about 350 field staff distributed around rural TPNG that were directly responsible for about 95% of the then 3 million population. TPNG had been steadily explored and developed since the early 1900’s although by the 1960’s there were still pockets of people who had not yet been contacted or brought under Administration control. To effectively explain or write about experiences, you need some relative benchmark for the listener or reader to make a comparison with. What would TPNG kiaps use as a comparison to explain what their role was like in practice? Contrasting Australia’s limited role in Papua New Guinea seems very difficult with previous colonial empires like those of the British or maybe the Romans? How would Australia compare anyway, given the different norms of previous centuries?

7 Small Steps Along the Way

So how could the writer effectively describe what it was like without seemingly being considered to be 'bending the truth' and why should anyone bother? Perhaps the only reason should be so some may learn from the experience in some way and so benefit someone in the future. After all, that’s how the human race progressed to where it is today. Let us start with an anecdote about the subject from someone who knew what he was talking about.

The Kiaps’ role - ‘sheer force of character’

The following is an extract from the memoir of former Australian Governor General, Sir Paul Hasluck called A Time for Building. Hasluck is not mentioned much these days but he was a great Australian statesman, in his time considered by many as a rival for Menzies’ as Prime Minister, especially after Menzies nearly lost the 1961 election. But Hasluck was too much of a gentleman to engage in the cut and thrust of political intrigue until very late in his career, when, with the Liberal Party in trouble, he was beaten for the job by John Gorton. An intellectual and a man of accomplishment, Hasluck knew of what he wrote. He wrote about another former Governor General, Sir William (Uncle Bill) Slim who came from a lower middle-class English family, fought at Gallipoli and, as a Field Marshall, led the British Army in Burma in World War 2. He was wounded in action three times and became one of Australia’s most distinguished Governors General (1952-60). It has been written that “Slim was a popular choice since he was an authentic war hero who had fought alongside Australians at Gallipoli and in the Middle East”. He also knew what of he spoke. Hasluck wrote: “I experienced a proud and moving moment in Perth in 1960 when I had a conversation with Sir William (later Viscount) Slim at the conclusion of his term as Governor-General of Australia. Slim had taken a great interest in all the Australian territories and had visited them and gone into some outback places on several tours. As the senior Federal Cabinet Minister from Western Australia I had to farewell him at Fremantle on his final departure from Australia...

8 Small Steps Along the Way

“We discussed one or two official matters and then a little gruffly, as was his habit he came to the edge of sentiment, he asked me to accept a copy of one of his books. He had written on the flyleaf, ‘To Paul Hasluck, with admiration for what he has done in the Territories, Bill Slim.’ I thanked him. He looked out of the window and looked at his watch and his mouth creased into the grim line that served him as a smile. ‘In an hour or two, I’ll be out to sea and I won’t be Governor-General any longer,’ he said, ‘so I’m going to say something that I suppose I should not say. I don’t admire everyone in your Government and I don’t admire everything your Government has done. In fact, I think they’ve done some damn silly things and some of your colleagues have said even more silly things than they have done. But there is at least one thing that your Government has done well and perhaps it is their best job.’ ‘I do admire you and I do admire what you have done in New Guinea. I know something about this. It is the sort of thing that I was trying to do during most of my life. Your young chaps in New Guinea have gone out where I would never have gone without a battalion and they have done on their own by sheer force of character what I could only do with troops. I don’t think there’s been anything like it in the modern world...’ “What moved me was his particular reference to our patrol officers. When every other word of criticism has been spoken and other defects in our administration have been discussed, I stand in amazement close to reverence at what was done, to my personal knowledge, in the ten years between approximately 1952 and 1962 by young Australian patrol officers and district officers in areas of first contact. There were a few mistakes and a few weak brothers, but the achievement, with the resources available, revealed a quality of character and manhood that should make our nation mightily proud that these fellows were Australians”.1 The mention of Paul Hasluck has reminded me of the time I was working with the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody. Old Parliament House had two annexes named in a very

1 Paul Hasluck, ‘A Time For Building’, Melbourne University Press, 1976, ISBN 0522840914

9 Small Steps Along the Way imaginative way, East Block and West Block. The Royal Commission was located in West Block. The Secretary of the Royal Commission, looked out the window of his second floor office and pointed out to me the old horse stables situated between our building and the old Parliament House. “That's where Paul Hasluck used to tie his horse up when he rode into Canberra to sit in Parliament”, I was told. “The building then became the Canberra Police Lock up before prisoners were sent on to Goulburn Gaol,” he added.

10

Chapter 3

Becoming a Patrol Officer in the Australian External Territory of Papua New Guinea (TPNG).

After obtaining my Leaving Certificate in 1965, I started work in December of that year in a safe, steady, secure but thoroughly boring position in a bank. Each year afterwards, I thought the work would become more interesting but in fact it just got worse. Then one Tuesday lunchtime (courtesy of the bank), I saw a free film by Film Australia on the first Mt Hagen Show in Papua New Guinea. The film featured thousands of plumed and drum beating warriors being organised by Australian Patrol Officers. That was it. I was hooked. The hair stood up on the back of my neck and I resolved to become a TPNG Patrol Officer. There seemed to be only one problem. The government wasn’t recruiting patrol officers just then. The government was at the time only considering the future need for Patrol Officers, given an intention to work towards Papua New Guinea self-government and eventual independence. It finally took another year of waiting until the advertisements for Contract Assistant Patrol Officers appeared and I applied along with what I was later told was the best part of 1,000 other applicants. Looking back, I find it hard to say exactly what influenced my decision to apply. Sure, adventure is an easy answer but there was also something else. I have always had a burning desire to meet people of different cultures and languages and I suspect this also played some part in the process.

11 Small Steps Along the Way

I attended some aptitude, psychological testing and departmental interviews in Sydney. The aptitude tests were fairly straightforward but when it came to the personal interview with the Psychologist, it became mildly interesting. The gentlemen concerned wore very large, thick glasses and after studying my answers to questions in the assessment, picked up on my answer about smoking a pipe. He leaned over the table and asked in a challenging way, “Drugs, drugs?”

1969 advertisement for TPNG Patrol Officers courtesy of fellow former kiap, Doug Robbins.

Now at the time, I had no idea one smoked anything other than tobacco. I used a straight stemmed pipe that I could shove down my sock when wearing my Army kilt. My answer about drinking was ‘only socially.’ In fact upon reflection, that was true but didn’t reveal a lot. Apparently, my answers to the psychologist didn’t necessarily ruin my chances and I was then interviewed by the ‘departmental rep.’ This turned out to be a very tall, thin man with what I can only

12 Small Steps Along the Way describe in a very non- politically correct way as a ‘fish face’. The first challenge was a query about length of tenure. “Did you know you may not have a lifetime career up there?” I was asked. “Well, it looks very rewarding,” I responded, hoping that might suffice. After a few other innocuous questions, he sprang what clearly was his ‘coup de main’. Flicking an 8 x 10 inch black and white photo of a grass hut over the table towards me, he challenged, “How would you feel if you had to stay in this?” Now at the time, I was used to serving in the Army Reserve infantry and did a lot of bush walking and camping out in the open. “That looks pretty good,” I replied, which seemed to set him back somewhat. After some months, a telegram arrived advising me I had been successful and to report to the Australian School of Pacific Administration (ASOPA) in Mosman, Sydney.

Kiap training at ASOPA

At the age of 21, I considered myself lucky enough to be selected as an Assistant Patrol Officer (APO) in the then Australian Territory of Papua New Guinea (TPNG). Not many people in Australia knew much about our Northern External Territory except those of my father’s generation who had fought there during the Second World War. My training as an Assistant Patrol Officer commenced in mid- 1969 at the Australian School of Pacific Administration (ASOPA) then located on Middle Head in the Sydney suburb of Mosman. Seated in the ASOPA classroom on first day, all 39 of our Course of successful applicants finally got together and met each other. The atmosphere was electric. You could have cut the air into blocks and carted it away. After some minutes, there was some movement at the door and several of those at the door started helping someone in a wheel chair into the room. There were no ramps in those days. Into the room came a presence. That's all I can say. The man in the wheelchair had piercing blue eyes, a brick red face and long sideburns. Mr Fred Kaad, a former District Commissioner, fixed us

13 Small Steps Along the Way all with a penetrating glare. "I don't know why you young gentlemen want to go to Papua New Guinea," he said, "It's nothing like Sanders of the River, you know." Perhaps I was not alone, never having read Edgar Wallace’s classic books on colonial Africa, however I can distinctly remember thinking: Who the (expletive) is Sanders of the River? I now admit to owning three of these small books and treasure them. When a former English applicant offhandedly asked if we should expect to be carried over rivers by local people, I thought Fred would have apoplexy. His face turned a brighter red, his sideburns bristled and glaring at the bloke he thundered: “You will carry yourself wherever you go on your own two feet.” We later found out Fred had been in an aircraft crash in PNG and had become a paraplegic from his injuries sustained during the crash. Little by little, our group found out where we fitted in to the scheme of things. Some senior Officers were also undertaking a Course at ASOPA but we didn’t seem to be accepted as part of the fraternity at that stage. The ASOPA lectures and presentations included Law, Government, Geography, and Language. Mostly these subjects were taught by those who had some association with PNG but had not actually been posted to the Territory’s rural areas. All the subjects were interesting however I found I really enjoyed Language (Neo Melanesian or Tok Pisin as we later discovered it was known in PNG). The Geography lecturer, John Reynolds, was very entertaining. After one lecture, some glass cases containing some very large PNG insects were displayed and ended up staying in the room. The next scheduled lecturer, Brian Jinks, was a former Kiap and, as he started his lecture on Government out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the huge insects. "Urgh!" he said and executed an astonishing leap sideways. "Never turn your back on the enemy, men." The law lecturer, an ex-Northern Territory magistrate was Jim Lemaire. Jim gave us an interesting dissertation on how the law and the court system in the Northern Territory used to work. In times gone past, there were two magistrates who used to handle all the NT cases. They regularly toured up and down the main highway

14 Small Steps Along the Way between Alice Springs and Darwin. One Saturday night, the local policeman in Alice Springs found both driving along the road, rip roaring drunk and booked them for driving under the influence (DUI). Both magistrates then had to decide how the charges would be heard on the following Monday morning. They decided they would hear each case alternately. On the Monday morning one magistrate assumed his place on the bench while the other was presented to the court by the local policeman. When the charge was read out and the accused asked how did he plead? the answer was "Guilty!" "Because of your previous exemplary character,” said the magistrate on the bench, “I sentence you to the rising of the court.” Places were then exchanged and much the same procedure followed. When it came to sentencing, the second magistrate now sitting on the bench said: "There's far too much of this going on, fined five pounds." We were given some practical experience on court procedures by sitting in the public gallery at the Sydney Court House during a rape trial. This experience was important we were told, if we had to officiate at a similar court case in the future. During our lunch hour at ASOPA, Doug Robbins, John Niland and I investigated the old wartime tunnels under fortifications at nearby Middle Head and used to spend many a lunchtime exploring them.

Fortifications at Middle Head

15 Small Steps Along the Way

On the 20th of July 1969, we were granted a break in our lectures and all the staff and students gathered in the lunch room to see Neil Armstrong actually climb down the ladder of the Moon Lander and become the first man on the moon. “That’s one small step for man” he said, “and one giant leap for mankind.” In many ways, we were about to take a similar giant leap but historically in a different direction. Not long before we finished our training at ASOPA, we had a visit from the then Speaker of the PNG House of Assembly, John Guise. To our surprise, he told us we weren’t wanted in PNG. It was only after a number of years that I found out how he had been treated in the early colonial days.

Field training in Kwikila Sub-district

After our time at ASOPA, my Course of 39 trainees was flown to Port Moresby on a TAA 727. As public servants, we flew First Class in those days (with free beer). Arriving in a somewhat relaxed mood at Jackson’s Airport in Port Moresby, the smartly dressed uniformed female aircrew opened door of the aircraft. The air conditioned cool air instantly evaporated and we were hit in the face by a wave of what seemed like superheated air. Exiting the aircraft, we had our first look at PNG. Dark skinned people were everywhere as we made our way over the blistering tarmac towards what looked like a low tin shed. Instead of providing a bit of shade however, it was even hotter under the tin roof of what now turned out to be the International Airport Terminal. After a perfunctory customs search of our small amount of baggage, we were collected by our Training Officer, Bruce Dunn. We were then directed onto what were referred to as buses. I say referred to, since they were actually light trucks, painted in what we came to know as Administration colours of dark blue with white roofs. Air conditioning was provided by having an open door. Our training was then to continue at Kwikila, the headquarters of the Rigo Sub-district in the Central District, 60 miles (100 km) east of Moresby. Off we went through the city of Moresby and very soon encountered the potholed and rutted dirt road going east along the coast. Moresby has but two seasons, Hot and dry and hot and wet. It was then November in the middle of the dry season. That meant the

16 Small Steps Along the Way road trip east was over a bumpy road covered with layers of fine, yellow dust.

An Administration bus

When we arrived at Kwikila, we found our practical training was to include Police Administration, Local Government and Public Works.

Doug Robbins and John Niland outside our accommodation at Kwikila

17 Small Steps Along the Way

Our spacious accommodation was a large, army style marquee and we were issued with old metal beds and foam rubber mattresses. The object of the exercise was apparently to toughen us up to the rigours of bush life. This included the meals provided by some local cooks in the mess hall. Flies and ants were numerous and most of us soon came down with the ‘trots’. The benefits of having Sulphaguanidine tablets on hand was then learnt very quickly. One of our group still came down with amoebic dysentery and had to be hospitalised in the Port Morseby hospital for most of the time we spent training at Kwikila. He only emerged very pale and thin as we were leaving for our field postings. We were told to be wary of the local snakes. Papuan Blacksnakes were numerous and very deadly. One day, one of our course was caught with his pants down, quietly communing with nature in the squat toilet when a large rat dashed across in front of him. The rat was followed by a huge black snake, hot on the rat’s tail. The bloke rocketed out of the latrine block, with his strides still down at his ankles, and in six-inch paces was seen yelling “Snake, snake!” The pit latrines at the camp were pretty primitive and some of our Course volunteered to improve them by concreting the floor and patching up the walls. After the concrete floor was smoothed out, a testimonial to Fred Kaad was written in the wet cement. Communal showers were also de rigour and reminded me of Army life. As we were taking our daily shower, a small Papuan boy appeared around the doorway and kept saying “Was Was’. We finally worked out he was sent by his family to take a free shower after we had finished our own. The Tok Pisin word ‘waswas’ meant taking a wash or shower. After a few days, Sub-Inspector Dave Thackery arrived from Moresby and proceeded to inform us about Royal Papua New Guinea Constabulary (RPNGC) protocols and drill. Outstation police then had available the standard Short Magazine Lee Enfield (SMLE) .303 rifle that could be issued if required. PNG police performed standard Army .303 drill. Given my experience in school cadets, where we used the same rifles and drill movements, this was a welcome surprise. Unlike the United States, it is a tradition in the British Commonwealth that an officer will only return a salute if wearing a hat or headgear. When hatless, seated or in a vehicle, a salute should

18 Small Steps Along the Way be acknowledged by standing to attention or sitting to attention. Sub-Inspector Thackery explained however that one of the unique traditions of the RPNGC was to always return a salute, whether you were wearing headgear or not and even when sitting down. Dave told us stiffening to attention might simply be taken as ignoring the compliment or just having a stiff neck.

APO’s at Kwikila late 1969 (I’m seated on the ground in front and fourth from the right holding my hat. Photo courtesy of Bernie Newell who is standing and wearing a black T shirt). Ian Lewis is in the front. Jack Scott is on my left.

Visiting the local Court House, built in the Papuan style with elongated roof extensions, we witnessed a court case being heard by the Assistant District Commissioner (ADC) Trevor Downs. Afterwards, we were given instructions on legal proceedings by Trevor. Some gruesome exhibits were on show including preserved body parts in a bottle etc. from a recent murder trial. We also read some of the written court records and proceedings. Trevor Downs drove around Kwikila in style in a dark green E type Jaguar. His black Labrador dog Trigger, often accompanied him in the front seat. He explained that at the time, you could buy a vehicle in the Territory, duty free from overseas and then have it delivered to be picked up in Australia. He had actually done this himself and taken delivery of his Jaguar in Melbourne. He then swiftly wacked a TPNG number plate on the vehicle as it was unloaded on the dock and then drove it all the way up north to be

19 Small Steps Along the Way transported to PNG from North Queensland. He was stopped and challenged on the way, he said, by local Australian police as he was only displaying one licence plate on the car. At the time, the Territory only issued one licence plate for each registered vehicle so they had to let him go. Kwikila station operated on bugle calls from the police bugler. The station times were Reveille, Fall-in, Lunch and return to work, Fall out and Flag down at sunset. The sun was never allowed to set on the Australian flag. Mostly, these bugle calls conformed to those in the however there were sometimes some interesting differences. I had brought my cavalry bugle with me and compared the different calls with the police bugler when I had a chance. I later found out that police buglers were not in high demand. Some field officers, like my first OIC, disliked bugle calls and ordered them not to be played. A bell was substituted instead and the practice of a station being run to the sound of a bell, known as ‘belo’ in Tok Pisin was a common occurrence. Often, the ‘bell’ was either an old artillery shell, allied or Japanese, or an empty gas bottle suspended from a nail near the office. The directive in Tok Pisin: “paitim belo” (‘hit the bell’), was an effective way of signalling the times when the outstation started and finished work. A Public Works representative then arrived to give us training on how to build roads and various public works. PNG Public Works were usually identified driving brilliant yellow vehicles whereas Commonwealth Department of Works (Comm Works) drove orange vehicles. Our practical training also involved lessons in how to use explosives and demonstrations in using gelignite and blocks of TNT. Noticing my slouch hat with its distinctive red puggaree, the Public Works rep asked how I had obtained it. It turned out he had also attended the same school but more of that later. Explosives training consisted of crimping detonators on yellow sump fuse, the use of ‘detonator cord’ and how to prepare a charge that would not create a dreaded ‘hang fire’. Retreating to the rear of the Sport Club, various charges were then prepared and their use demonstrated.

20 Small Steps Along the Way

The next day, we were taken in groups to build culverts along a local road. This exercise was good in theory, as an excellent way of learning how to do work we would then be required to supervise. It was a very hot morning however and the day just got hotter. A small stream that was crossing the road was then blocked off with an earthen dam. A trench was then dug and two long, concrete pipes laid in the trench. At that point, the Public Works bloke nominated me, seeing as how I was from his old school, to crawl up the pipes and seal the join with wet clay. Of course, after I’d done that and skinned my knees in the process, my so-called mates then broke the cotter dam and I had to back out under water. When we got back to Kwikila, and after settling down to a quiet South Pacific lager or three, a local high school teacher told us the temperature at midday had hit 120 degrees Fahrenheit in the shade. No wonder we felt hot. Port Moresby and the area along that part of the Central District coast were in a rain shadow and could become very dry, unlike most of the rest of PNG. Speaking of South Pacific lager, it came in two coloured bottles. Green and brown. Each apparently had its adherents and would refer to their favourite tipple as ether a ‘greenie’ or a ‘brownie’ when ordering a beer at the bar. After 3 stubbies however, we found the world took on a very rosy look. Examining the stubbie label, we discovered the alcoholic content of the local beer was 8% whereas we were used to a meagre 5% in Australia. Not long after we left Kwikila, the South Pacific brewery reduced the alcohol content to ‘help prevent public drunkenness’. Diving into the club’s murky pool one night to cool off after imbibing a few stubbies, I hit the concrete bottom and cracked my front tooth. Local government records and procedures were to me altogether another matter. While some of us would go straight into a Local Government or Council Advisor position, which offered no incentive to me at all. I had escaped book keeping in the bank and had no desire to return to anything that resembled that occupation. In time we were mostly required to take over as Council Advisers in addition to normal Kiap duties but that was in the future. Some of my Course did however go exclusively straight in to the Local Government role and were promoted rapidly to Assistant District Officer positions in that employment stream. They got a pay rise but

21 Small Steps Along the Way not the full grounding in field work that we who didn’t follow them in this route received. We were allowed to escape one Saturday to the delights of Port Moresby to get a haircut and see the sights. Entering the Burns Philp store, it felt almost like going back into a time warp as the air inside of the store was still being moved around by huge rectangle, ‘punkahs’. These punkahs were now connected with metal arms and mechanically automated but clearly had been operated by hand by operators referred to in the Indian Hindi language, as ‘punkarwallahs’ in times gone by. I bought some postcards and made my way to the Moresby Post Office to post them to my family. Stepping along the footpath, I came head to head with a local man who said ‘Sorry Taubada.” It was the first time I had been addressed in that manner and the significance didn’t escape me.

Field postings

At the end of our five weeks training at Kwikila we were given our field postings. My posting was to the West District next to Indonesian West Irian but I swapped with Ian Lewis so I could go to Morobe District to hopefully learn a little about cattle farming. Ian (a mad keen surfer), wanted to go to the Sepik where it was rumoured there was a break in the coral reef and some actual surf. Ian ended up being posted to Telefomin way up in the mountains near the headwaters of the Sepik River and I was posted to the middle of the Huon Peninsula where any self-respecting cow needed two legs longer on one side than the other in order to navigate around the limestone mountains. At the end of our field training at Kwikila in late 1969, we were ‘bussed’ into Moresby to catch our planes to our new Districts. Our Course members were then distributed around the four corners of the Territory. Mostly, we then didn't see each other again until our Magistrates Course in Moresby, three years later. By then it seemed, our numbers had shrunk to about half those who had first started out at ASOPA. The four of us who were going to Morobe District were issued with Ansett Airline tickets. As we walked out onto Jackson’s

22 Small Steps Along the Way airstrip, I noticed what appeared to be a collection of historical aircraft, predominantly DC3’s. Obviously, someone had some enthusiasm for collecting old wartime aircraft. As we got closer however, we observed that the old DC3’s had TAA and Ansett ANA markings. Novel we thought but then we were directed to our aircraft. There it stood in all its glory, an elderly DC3 in Ansett colours.

A DC3 at Jackson’s Airfield

Climbing the metal ladder, we were welcomed into a new world. Territory flying! Directly opposite the door was a cargo section, clearly identified by a cargo net. The cargo section was unlike anything we had seen before however. The cargo net continually heaved and undulated like some amorphous creature and made all sorts of noises from squeaks, grunts, quacks and clucks. Occasionally a strange part of the creature (usually an indignant looking head) would erupt through the net and let out a weird cry. The smell emanating from the cargo area was atrocious. Our tickets were for the seats at the top left-hand side so we climbed up the 25degree slope and sank down onto the non-existent padding. No air conditioning or soothing music of course so we sat

23 Small Steps Along the Way and sweated and tried not to gag on the smell coming from the cargo section below and behind us. After a while, the other passengers all arrived and added to the general ‘atmosphere’. Then the pilot and co-pilot climbed up into the cockpit and took their seats. This we could clearly see because the door between the cabin and the cockpit was hanging off on one hinge and obviously had not been shut for some time. The pilot yelled something out of the window and twiddled a couple of switches. Suddenly this almighty roar started and we discovered that the aircraft was actually made up of thousands of small parts, apparently not held together very well. Each integral part of the aircraft seemed to have a life of its own. The windows slowly rotated in their housings. Parts of the seat seemed to grab and pinch you in places you didn’t expect. There was a gap of about five centimetres under the external door and I guess that passed for air conditioning. The internal coverings of the cabin were peeling off and we could see the control wires pulling backwards and forwards over our heads as the pilot tried out the flaps, rudder and ailerons, presumably to see if they were still attached. Then the second engine started up and the noise increased twofold. The pilot and co-pilot kept pulling the throttle back to rev up the engines and seemed quite oblivious to the whole affair. They of course had headphones on. With a final roar of the engines and some yelling into the microphones, our aircraft started to move forwards. After what seemed an age, we finally reached the end of the strip and turned for our take off. We could see the co-pilot having trouble with the throttles that appeared to be stuck half way so he got his foot up on them and pushed them forward. The aircraft started to move forwards and we finally came up level as we built up speed for take-off. The DC3 was not a pressurized aircraft so we had to fly between and not over the mountains of the and on to Lae. The flight took a little over an hour and we were glad to get out into the fresh but humid air of Lae. Arriving in Lae, the capital of the Morobe District, we were met at the airstrip and taken to the District Office. There we were introduced to the Deputy District Commissioner and staff. I found I had been was posted to Pindiu Patrol Post in the Finschhafen Sub-

24 Small Steps Along the Way district where the area was mostly composed of rugged limestone mountains.

Approximate locations of the Morobe District Outstations in 1970 Lae Sub-district and Boana, Morobe and Garaina Kaiapit Sub-district and Wantoat Wau Sub-district and Bulolo Menyamya Sub-district and Aseki Kabwum Sub-district and Wasu Finschhafen Sub-district and Pindiu, Sialum and Siassi

Staying overnight at the TAA Transit Lodge in Lae, I settled down to the first tropical night under a roof and not canvas. I admit to being slightly nostalgic until through the open window, the strains of bagpipes wafted in. Bagpipes in PNG! I was overcome, especially since I had brought a ‘set of sticks’ with me having purchased them from the Pipe Sergeant of my old CMF Unit, the Black Watch. I

25 Small Steps Along the Way immediately walked outside to find where the pipes were being played. After some time dodging innumerable cane toads, I finally found the music was coming from a transistor radio in someone’s house. The Pacific Islands Regiment had a pipe band and this was merely a locally recorded rendition being broadcast on the local radio. The Pacific Islands Regiment became part of the PNG Defence Force after Independence.

Lae aerodrome in 1969. It is now no longer used because the old wartime airstrip at Nadzab has been upgraded for use instead.

My abortive attempts to master the bagpipes during my first term in TPNG occurred when I returned home on my first leave. Aircraft connections that day were rather tight and I had to stop the taxi at Cedric Chee’s trade store in Lae long enough to grab a clean, fresh shirt. I remember being given a hard time by Mrs. Chee, who apparently only had one shirt that would fit me, a bright orange one that stuck out like the proverbial country toilet. No time to search further, I bought it, changed in the airstrip restroom and just made the flight to Moresby. The ‘sticks’ had lain untouched in their suitcase for some time since my original enthusiasm had been somewhat curtailed due to too many other conflicting priorities. Sometime in the past however,

26 Small Steps Along the Way

I had attempted to season the bag (good roo skin makes the best bags) with the old highland method of using honey. Proper bagpipe seasoning was apparently then in short supply at the local trade store. For those uninitiated in the vagaries of piping, the leather bag must occasionally be ‘seasoned’ or made airproof, by pouring a viscous (organic) liquid into the bag and massaging the bag until it becomes moist, supple and mostly airtight. Anyway, on arrival at the old Brizzie overseas terminal, I was asked by the Customs Officer had I anything to declare? Before I could answer, a two inch stowaway cockroach surreptitiously crept out of the bagpipe case and made a bid to see Australia. “Hah!” said the Customs bloke and swiftly ended the ‘illegal immigrant’s attempt at an overseas holiday with a swot from his sheath of papers. “Whot’s in th’ case mate?” I was then asked. “Bagpipes” I said. “Well, we’ll just hav’ta take a look won’t we,” the bloke said and opened the case. WHIRRRRRR! 500 Pacific Island cockroaches took to the air like a volcanic eruption in a mass breakout for freedom. As if on cue, at least 20 men in khaki uniforms emerged from offices, enquiry counters and it seemed, the woodwork. Processing at Brisbane Overseas terminal came to an abrupt halt as khaki clad officers charged hither and thither with cries of “There’s one.” STOMP! “There’s another.” STAMP! “I’ve got one.” SWOT! At the end of some 10 minutes of hectic physical pandemonium, 20 now red faced and heaving Customs Officers descended on me and my bagpipes. “Err, we’ll have to take your instrument away and spray it,” I was told. I was then left waiting at the Brisbane Customs counter in my bright orange shirt like some pariah dog while everyone glared at me like some miscreant that had finally been caught trying to get away with some heinous crime. After a long wait in ignominy, the original Customs Officer appeared holding my poor old ‘sticks’ that were now literally dripping in insecticide. I bundled the now separated and evil smelling drones, chanter and bag back into their case and departed the terminal with as much dignity as I could muster. I never dared try to play those pipes again and sold them as soon as I could.

27

Chapter 4

My first patrol

When I arrived at the District Headquarters in Lae and visited the District Commissioner’s Office, I was told I was to fly out the next morning to Pindiu and was taken around to open a Country Order account at Steamship’s New Guinea Company. An Assistant District Commissioner from another Sub-district wanted to snaffle me for his Sub-district and when he came around the following morning to order me to go with him. I wanted to be loyal to my actual posting and hid until he had to leave to catch his plane. Later that morning I was loaded into a small Cessna 172 at Crowley’s Airways at the Eastern end of the Lae airstrip. Along with me was a new Government Clerk and his family and a huge mound of cargo and we flew from Lae to Pindiu Patrol Post. The pilot, Ian Compton, took the full length of the airstrip to take off and gain altitude. As we flew in a north easterly direction, and just managed to make it over the mountain ridges, I saw the tops of tall trees on either side of the aircraft at the same level as myself. Ian, the pilot was in an expansive mood and talked about my new station. “Yes,” he laughed, “They got all fired up about cleaning up the station and cut all the grass around the kiap’s house. That was a mistake as they found all these cans and bottles lying around so they decided to let the grass grow again.” Having lined the aircraft up with the Pindiu airstrip we landed almost half way up the strip just below the large rise in the centre. If we hadn’t landed there Ian said, we wouldn’t have made it up to the

28 Small Steps Along the Way top of the strip and into the parking area.

Loading Crowley’s Cessna 172 on Lae airstrip prior to take off to Pindiu

As we taxied in to the loading bay, I distinctly remember looking at the people standing along the side of the airstrip, all apparently dressed much the same and wondering if I could pick out any differences between those watching. They looked very different from the Papuan people we had come to know at Kwikila. Many years later, I remember showing a school photograph asking someone who had emigrated from Hong Kong if they could pick me out. The answer was interesting: “They all look the same!” I was told. Clearly, it takes some humans a while to recognise the basic differences in facial features in differing communities when they’re not used to looking at a new variety of physical features. A bloke with a black moustache and wearing khakis, roared up the slope of the landing bay on a Honda 90 motorbike, parked his bike and immediately started talking to the pilot. Only after he settled some sort of arrangement, did he then say hello to me. This was my new boss or the Officer in Charge of the Patrol Post. The immediacy of the arrangement with the pilot was now clear. Two passengers, a teacher and an Agricultural Officer, who had been stationed at Pindiu were then going on leave that day and it was clearly convenient for the plane to take them on its return journey to Lae. Hurried arrangements resulted in the two officers being

29 Small Steps Along the Way rounded up and together with their gear, bundled onto the plane. Neither passenger looked very well, with the teacher, having a distinct green look on his face. What I didn’t know is that they had had a farewell party the night before and hadn’t stopped drinking until the early hours of the morning. I found out later a full bottle of Tia Maria had finally finished the teacher off during the celebrations.

Pindiu Outstation in 1969

Pindiu airstrip 1969 Looking southwards

30 Small Steps Along the Way

The arrangement made with the pilot then became apparent for as the small aircraft took off it suddenly dipped out of sight into the valley below. After a minute it then reappeared in a huge climb before making off down the valley towards Lae. The OIC clearly wanted to have the still inebriated passengers remember their final send off. Weeks later, the pilot returned on another flight and said he’d never do that again, as he had to put up with the subsequent results and in such a small plane. Let me try to describe my first impressions. Pindiu is around 1,000 metres above sea level. It has warm days and cool nights and overlooks a steep valley at the bottom of which the Mongi River rushes on its way to the south east. There it meets the Kuat River and the Bulum River before continuing down to the coast of the Huon Peninsula.

Pindiu looking north

Looking at the station from the air in the photo above, the large, oblong building is the Council Chambers. The OIC’s residence is then at the top of the airstrip on the left and the SOQ is on the right. The Station Office is next to the loading area on the left-hand side below the loading area. Also, near the loading area is a Co-operative

31 Small Steps Along the Way

Store and further down, the trade store of Cedric Chee. Further on the right-hand side are some shade trees under which a coffee plantation is growing and this served as a model for villagers to emulate as a cash crop. The Agricultural Officer’s residence, is near the planation. Further down the strip on the right is the school sports grounds, actually part of the original short airstrip built by the Lutheran Mission, and then the Primary school. I was expected to complete my first two years of field training as an Assistant Patrol Officer. After that I might be lucky enough to be promoted to Patrol Officer. The type of field training being offered usually depended on the senior officer at the time. There appeared to be two schools of thought. One ‘school of thought’ was to take the newly posted ‘Cadet’ and lead him personally through the ropes. The second methodology appeared to be: ‘Toss him in at the deep end and see if he swims?’ The Officer in Charge of Pindiu had previously been posted from service in the Western Highlands District. He belonged to the second school of thought. Not long after I arrived, I was told I was to go on patrol. This involved preparing my meagre supplies and rations and flying from Pindiu to Mindik airstrip where the OIC and I would walk to where an airstrip was to be built. My role was to supervise the construction of that airstrip at a village called Ogeranang. I had a plan of the airstrip on a Foolscap piece of paper, kept at the site. My boss would take me to the site, show me what had to be done and leave me there for a fortnight to ‘learn the ropes!’ Constable Mowabi from the Pindiu detachment was detailed to accompany me to see I didn’t make a complete mess of things. What I didn’t know at the time was that I would in the future be directed to build a Base Camp at Mindik and generally ‘look after’ the whole of the Kuat and Bulum River valleys and the people there. I would also regularly walk back and forth to the airstrip construction site at Ogeranang village in the Bulum valley. What I also didn’t know is that my little Base Camp would eventually become a centre of government administration and I would plan schools to be built in Mindik and Ogeranang that would help the people of that area. But all that was in the future.

32 Small Steps Along the Way

Now I considered myself at 21 to be fairly fit. Outdoor training with the Army Reserve and ‘bush bashing’ as it was called, was something I was very keen on. Arrangements were made to fly us and all our patrol gear from Pindiu to the airstrip in the Kuat Valley named Mindik. Our Patrol then started off from Mindik and walked for about three hours from the Kuat Valley over the ridge to the Bulum Valley and to a village called Areganang.

Supplies I took on my first Patrol

On patrol

33 Small Steps Along the Way

Areganang village 3 hours away

Here we met the driving force behind the new airstrip, a Councillor called Rukanzinga. Councillor Rukanzinga turned out to be about my father’s age and a man of vision. He was very keen to have an airstrip in his area so that his people didn’t have to carry their coffee a long way to sell at either Mindik or down to the coast. Leaving Areganang, off we set again towards Ogeranang and the airstrip site. This time, the climbing started to increase. “Don’t drink anything!” my boss told me but the cool, clear water in the stream before the final climb was just too tempting. Up, up, and up we climbed till suddenly, my breath started to get rather short. Stopping and taking ‘a breather’ and look at the scenery didn’t seem to help at all. My breath started to become very-laboured and I wondered what on earth the matter was. “Ha!” said my boss, “You drank some water, didn’t you? I told you not to?”

What I hadn’t yet worked out was that my body wasn’t yet acclimatised to the altitude and that we were around 1500 metres above sea level. I wasn’t therefore used to the lack of oxygen at that altitude especially when undertaking rigorous exercise.

34 Small Steps Along the Way

Gasping and wheezing my progress up the mountain side slowed to a halt. Councillor Rukanzinga came forward and said gently in Tok Pisin, “Just take little steps kiap. You’ll be okay.” Slipping his arm into mine, the Councillor helped me forward and showed me how to take little, 15 centimetre steps upward. Ever so slowly I continued to climb, leaning on Councillor Rukanzinga. When we arrived at the top of the ridge where the airstrip was being built, it seemed thousands of people were waiting for us. The experienced PNG Councillor had successfully led the inexperienced young Australian up to the camp site. I started to realise about that time that my PNG education had only just commenced.

Boots ‘n all

The choice of boots to wear on patrol was certainly a personal decision. Having been in the services, I thought I knew a thing about boots. Wrong! I decided to prepare for patrolling while still at ASOPA. When I saw a set of Kodiak (Canadian) boots in a sports store window I thought I had the solution. The makers claimed these boots were just the thing for wet conditions and had non-rot stitching etc. When I wore them to ASOPA however I was pooh-poohed by the seniors and told to get some leather soled ones with hob nails and cleats. Having paid $70 for these boots I thought I knew better and took them to PNG. While we were at Kwikila, these boots were fine however..... Lesson No 1 - listen to those who have been there before. Those boots nearly killed me when I wore them on patrol in the mountains. The rubber soles meant I slipped and slid around in the red clay and on the wet tree roots of the forest. When we got to a track along a mountainside that was about 30 centimetres wide, my feet suddenly went from under me and I went over the side of the track. I ended up with one toe still on the track and me frantically clutching handfuls of grass to stop me falling down the valley where I could see a patch of bamboo under me about 80 feet below. Fortunately, Joe Koaba the Council clerk walking behind me heard

35 Small Steps Along the Way me shout and clutched onto my foot and pulled me back onto the track.

The Manager of the Pindiu Co-ops Store, Me and Pindiu Council Clerk Joe Koaba in 1970)

That was the last time I wore rubber soles on patrol and I immediately got myself some leather soled boots with hobnails and horseshoes. I would have put cleats on them too if I had 'em. Some other blokes swore by their canvas boots with rubber soles as these would dry out faster after a river crossing. However, I found the rubber soles always filled up with wet clay in the areas I was in and became very slippery. I stuck to my hobnails and kept my footing.

Ogeranang Airstrip and the mission school

Construction of an airstrip at an old United States WW2 air drop site started in 1969. After being taken to the site by my new boss, the Officer in Charge of the Patrol Post, I was given a foolscap sheet of paper with the design of the strip and left in charge of building the Ogeranang airstrip. A surveyor had previously run a theodolite over the ridge and left marker pegs where the eventual levels of the strip must be. When my boss departed the day after we arrived, I was left with Constable Mowabi and what seemed at least 2,000 people to

36 Small Steps Along the Way organize into work parties to undertake the airstrip construction by hand.

Ogeranang Airstrip construction in 1969 (1)

Ogeranang Airstrip construction in 1969 (2)

37 Small Steps Along the Way

Ogeranang Airstrip construction in 1969 (3)

Ogeranang Airstrip construction in 1969 (4)

38 Small Steps Along the Way

Constable Mowabi from Madang area, helping supervise airstrip construction at Ogeranang

My accommodation at the construction site in 1969. The Australian flag on the bamboo pole indicates the “Government’ is in residence.

Five years later, in late 1974, as acting ADC at Finschhafen, I arranged for the Australian Army Air Wing to open the airstrip with

39 Small Steps Along the Way an initial flight by a Pilatus Porter. I would have loved to have been on that flight, given the amount of time and effort I put into the airstrip’s construction but I was attending an ADC’s conference in Lae at the time. I therefore asked my old mate and No. 2 at Finschhafen, P.O. Tom Darwen to go on the flight to ensure everything went okay, which it did. Gerevi village was the first village up the road to Wagazaring Hospital. It was near this village where I had nearly been killed in a landslide after returning from the hospital after examining the murdered child in the suitcase described in chapter 1. The Missionary male nurse who ran the hospital, was driving back from Pindiu when he swerved around a puddle and crashed his Land Rover, killing one of the passengers. Not long afterwards I was sent by the OIC to interview the missionary and write out a traffic accident report. The landowners of the land nearby had previously agreed to the Lutheran Mission building the hospital on their land but there was a sticking point. One of the landowners had two wives. The Lutheran missionary running the hospital refused to treat the child of the second wife, declaring the child was a sin against God. Fortunately, there was a lay helper at the hospital who told the mother who had brought the child, who was very sick from malaria, to go to the Aid Post at the Patrol Post for help. I only found out about this travesty after the missionary had departed for Australia. The ‘komiti’ of Gevevi was a smallish man who was rather inoffensive. The Council clerk, Joe Koaba told me that during the war, a group of Japanese, retreating from Lae had camped in the village. The ‘komiti’ was then a young boy but he had rumours of the Japanese cannibalising the bodies of dead Australian soldiers. He was asked by the Japanese soldiers to go and fill up a large cooking pot with water which he did. The Japanese then asked him to go away and wash himself before coming back. He wisely didn’t and ran away, Joe said. Fireflies were often observed at night in Papua New Guinea and would sometimes congregate in a tree to display. Their greeny-blue lights would flicker on and off until they synchronised their display and then the whole tree would light up and pulse with light. I can remember seeing a ‘display’ tree opposite the Burns Philp store in Wau that used to light up the whole area around the tree.

40 Small Steps Along the Way

While the light looks like a small light globe, it is a cold bioluminescence light that does not generate any heat. Instinctive reactions are sometimes hard to break however. While at Pindiu and on patrol, I attended a taxpayer’s meeting at the Ogeranang airstrip construction site. The Hube Council clerk, Joe Koaba and I then stayed overnight in the ‘haus kiap’. Some number of cockroaches made an appearance at night, together with a few mozzies. Rather than put up our mozzie nets, we sprayed insecticide in the hut to kill or deter the unwanted insect residents. The particular brand of insect spray the local trade store was selling at the time was pretty potent and we had to open the window to let in some cool mountain air. As we lay on our ‘bed sails’ talking, after a long walk and an emotional taxpayer’s meeting, we were discussing the day’s activities, prior to going to sleep. Looking out the open window, Joe observed, “Isn’t it a lovely night outside. Look at all the stars. And there’s the moon and, (as a firefly flew straight in the window, merrily blinking its light on and off), what’s this? A little firefly has come to say hello.” The firefly flew directly over Joe’s bed and suddenly met the invisible cloud of insecticide. It was as if the insect hit a brick wall. It stopped in mid- air and promptly did a kamikaze nose dive onto Joe, still blinking madly. “Ahh!” said Joe and gave a startling leap out of bed as if a red hot coal had been thrown at him.

The first census of metropolitan Lae

In early 1970, Bill (‘Father’) Seale, the District Commissioner for Morobe District, decided that there should be a full Census of the township of Lae. He was of the opinion that there would be over 25,000 people in the town precincts and decided he would prove it. What the DC wanted the DC got. All the ‘liklik’ (junior) kiaps in the Morobe District were informed that they were required to travel in to the ‘big smoke’ and be ‘organized’ into census takers. Along with other Assistant Patrol Officers in the Morobe District, I wa