Memoirs - Stirling Melville Tuckey - W8274, WX29765

INTRODUCTION
I joined the militia the 16th Cameron Highlanders - just before the war began. I don't know why, because I wasn't a Scot and didn't have anything in common with the Scottish Highlanders. I think maybe it was because I had so many cobbers joining up with the Scotties. It may have been because of a bit of glamour, but in comparing the wails of the pipes [e.g. "Road to the Isles"] I preferred the 44th Battalions Brass Band and "Colonel Bogey" also "Sussex by the Sea". Still, I'm glad I joined the Highlanders and was indeed pleased when I was measured for my kilt and told it would cost me 2 pounds. Of course, it was only for ceremonial occasions and, of course, I came in for the usual pertinent questions from the women, "Do you wear anything underneath your kilt? I used to reply "Guess!" Made them all the more furious with my answer.

The day came when we had to put the kilts in "mothballs" because the war was on and things were becoming "dinkum". We were told we could have them back after the war or a refund of our 2 pounds. I'm still waiting for one or the other!

It was not long before we became the 16th Battalion [AIF] and eventually we went to Darwin in 1943. I was commissioned there in July 1943 and was immediately transferred to a Victorian regiment the 8th Battalion AIF, formerly recruited [as I knew it then] in the City of Ballarat. I was posted to C Company as a Platoon Commander.

I first started to write my diary on the way south from Green Island to Bougainville North and to the fighting zones. Thereafter it was written in the field or at rest camps. I began with notes and wrote on any odd scraps of paper I could procure, and carried them in my map case and welded them together to make some sort of sense at rest camps. When the war was over I wasn't satisfied with the diary hanging around because I realised it could never be understood by anyone but myself, and it would be virtually useless to show anybody at home. Just a lot of notes about people I knew, places and so on. It was, therefore, a wonderful opportunity to write it up and make a story when we had forced on us such a long delay in getting home [about 4 months]. I went into quite a lot of detail to make it easy to read if not interesting. In addition I wrote a number of supplements to go hand-in-hand with the diary. I have also included some attachments.

I have tried hard to record faithfully all of which I have written, but must be excused if I appear to wander a bit, or duplicate events. Sometimes duplication, of a sort, has crept into my stories when there are so many supplements involved - each containing different events.

Although I actually finished writing my story before I left Bougainville, as I thought, I had more to add when I arrived home - and even some years later. As I wrote more and more I considered some duplication was necessary to fit in with newly written events. An example could be that in writing so many years later I commented in Supplement Number 2, page 3 - I was lucky, and could not but pause on many occasions to wonder what had happened to my comrades and so many other people I knew. An answer to this, in part at least, please refer to Addendum, page 1.

On the following pages will be found an index which may prove to be of some use in reading the diary and its supplements. The index provides easy access to detailed information on the individual places, events and features mentioned in the original diary where just notes have been made. For example, Comments of Diary Entries [Supplement 1] which mainly centres on individuals, puts you in the picture immediately in regard to who they were and what they did.

Stirling M Tuckey January 1993

INDEX OF CONTENTS

Copy of Original War Diary
Comments on Diary Entries Supplement 1
General Comments Supplement 2
Map of Bougainville at the time Attachment 1
Extract from letter home Attachment 2
Extract from letter home Attachment 3
Amusing "sidelights" Supplement 3
Amusing "sidelights" [King Tayroa] Supplement 3 [Appendix]
Extract from West Australian Newspaper, August 1945 Attachment 4
Regrettable happenings in closing stages of war Supplement 4
Conclusion Supplement 5
Addendum Addendum 1
Will we ever understand the Japanese Supplement 6

COPY OF ORIGINAL WAR DIARY WITH LATER ATTACHMENTS [BOUGANVILLE CAMPAIGN 1945]

WX 29765 Lieut. Stirling M Tuckey
8 BN AIF [LATE 16BN AIFJ

Middle of June, 1945
Middle of June saw the reduction of the Island Garrisons, as it was anticipated then, that there was no further need for them. However, a few weeks before we evacuated Green Island enemy activity was suspected which, we thought at that time, a panic story spread by the Yanks. Even so, we took the precautions of guarding vital installations and sent out numerous patrols to try and contact the enemy. It passed over and was more or less laughed at by the boys. Weeks later, in fact, after the capitulation of the Nips, it was learned that three Nips were found on Green Island, two being shot and one escaping. I was in command of the garrison troops during the last fortnight after the company's evacuation.

June 29th
Left Green Island on the Rahran, supposedly bound for TORAKINA. Found out destination was SORAKEN or the BONIS PENINSULA to take over from the 31/51st Battalion which had been badly mauled by the enemy in an abortive landing at PORTEN PLANTATION with heavy casualties. Ran in too close to BUKA. Arrived FREDDIE BEACH late that evening and stayed the night and next day, moving up the front on Sunday, the following day. Travelled down with Harry Bowman, an officer friend from Brigade.

July 1st
Moved up to RATSUA by barge. Hurried along to HQ, briefed for ten minutes and then sent on a 7 1/2 mile patrol of four days, across the neck of the peninsula to RURI BAY on the west coast and the south. Object to ambush a large party of Japs reported moving north. Later [2 or 3 weeks] they infiltrated through our lines [80 odd we believe]. Bad country / good for enemy ambush especially in creek beds. I was alarmed by our own troops firing. Communications 2 wireless sets and 4 carrier pigeons. Had first experience of an air-strafing and bombing by our own planes on a Jap position. Knowledge gained from 27 Battalion on ambushes, mines, etc. was invaluable. Death Valley a horrible place. Recalled on 4th day. Reported back to HQ and then sent to join the rest of the Company up TASUI TRACK.
Page 6

July 6th
Now with the Company. Peter Nugent injured in skirmish with enemy. Had to be taken to hospital to have a new thumb grafted to his hand.

July 7th
Ronnie Webb killed. Patrolling COMMO RIDGE named after Commo Moffat. Ray Richards killed Jap on patrol. Encountered more booby-traps and mines. Dark long nights. Mud slinging on our positions and other harassing tactics by the enemy. Captain Ogden blown to bits.

July 17th
Frank Bloomer killed by one of our own booby-traps.

July 23rd
Attack on COMMO RIDGE. Our support was an air-strike with 1000lb bombs, strafing, 400 rounds Arty, 500 rounds 4.2 mortar shells, 600 rounds 3" mortar shells: 2 Matilda tanks [both came to grief] and 2 flame throwers. Captured and consolidated Ridge by 0930hrs: start time 0800hrs. Mopping up continued. Ray Richards wounded. Bunker positions were looked at carefully and we had to dig some Japs out. We captured a Lewis machine gun and a quantity of ammo, and there were plenty of souvenirs to be had. Six Nips were credited to the Platoon. Jap HQ was found to be mined thoroughly with about 20 mines. A hasty evacuation by the Japs - blankets and tools were left behind. It appeared that the Japs we encountered were young civilian boys impressed into the army with a back-bone of mature marines.

July 23rd to 29th
Consolidated ourselves on COMMO RIDGE by digging in. We engaged in 600 yard patrols on right flank. Night of the storm limbs and booby-traps. Smoke bomb blowing sergeant into his pit, injuring a runner. Phosphorous bombs burning troops; 3inch mortar bomb landing in old area. More Jap mines found. Officer of 29th Battalion killed and two men wounded. Strafing by our planes of Jap HQ. A POW broadcast by a Nip arranged. He had surrendered to Arty. Bowing and scraping and as happy as Larry to be captured or at least to be in our hands. Broadcasted in Japanese over amplifiers in the jungle exhorting Japs to surrender. None did.

July 29th to August 8th
Rest camp. George McCarten and four others from B Company killed. Circumstances of his death. Catmans fingers shot off. Fred Boddington injured. Tank blown up and featured later by news from TOKYO. Tank school and tank crews morale. Atomic bomb - bets when war would end. Thirty Nips to Company credit of which 14 Platoon [mine] received 9.
Page 7

August 8th
Up the front again. Patrols and duties.

August 12th
Rumours of peace. War over. Fourteen Platoon on patrol to coast [2000 yard patrol]. Recall. Rumours quashed - morale lowered.

August 13th
First enemy shelling: 96 shells during that evening and morning of next day; 59 evening, balance morning at 6.30am 50 yards from perimeter. Further lowering of morale. People of Brisbane celebrating peace madly. Vast digging preparations next day.

August 14th
Shelled morning and night.

August 15th
Shelled morning, afternoon [from SOHANA dud rounds] and evening. At 8 0'clock heard that cease-fire had been given. Two Jap mines exploded down the track. Engineer wounded natives went bush by this time physical wrecks ready to jump down burrows at slightest pretext.

August 16th
No shelling morning or evening. Seemed that war was really over. News of Jap Commander in South having been contacted. Endeavoured to contact local Commander by leaflets, planes and wireless. Had Platoon standing by to escort him in. Enemy explosions and dumping of materials into sea observed at BUKA. Natives sing-sing.

August 17th
No activity. All sat around in groups. Spirits high. During the whole of the good news, no demonstrations of joy in our particular midst - just relief.

August 18th
All quiet. No activity.

August 19th
Took our wire up.

August 20th
General Kanda [Area Commander] says 20,000 Japs on Bougainville. Our estimate was approximately 8,000. We had approximately 12,000. Nothing to report.
Page 8

August 21st/22nd
Moved back to RATSUA and cleaned up.

August 23rd
I was last out. Rumour turned out to be the truth. Went by barge to rest camp. The war was over.

End of War Diary
S M Tuckey
Bougainville, August 1945
Page 9

COMMENTS ON DIARY ENTRIES
"DE" = Diary Entry

DE: Peter Nugent [page 7]
A Section Leader sent out on patrol, encountered a party of Japs. In the ensuring fight he had his rifle shot out of his hands with his thumb shot off, together with his forefinger. He retrieved his rifle but couldn't close the breech. His hand was useless and he had to pull the pins out of his grenades with his teeth. He had also been shot in the leg. The rest of his section returned to our perimeter in a bad way but NO Peter. He had been separated from his companions and we waited and waited for his return as it was now getting dark and we had to take up our booby-traps surrounding our perimeter. We had now given up all hope but suddenly he limped into camp with his rifle still in his hands.

He told us after he had been shot he sought refuge in the flanges of a big tree and used his grenades. A Nip had the same idea and found a possie between another set of flanges in the same tree so they were virtually neighbours! They didn't speak to each other and Peter told me that when things quietened down a bit he made a hurried exit into the jungle. The Nip didn't follow! Peter reckoned the Nip was just as frightened as he was himself. How Peter managed to find his way back I'll never know.

DE: Ronnie Webb [page 7]
I'll never forget the evening when our Skipper Captain Syd Reid sent for me to tell me he had bad news in that Ronnie had been killed. Poor Ronnie - he volunteered to go out with a patrol. It wasn't his turn, nor was it mine for that matter. Apparently he went too far to the right and got deep within enemies defences [unknowingly]: they then became lost and he moved up to the front of the section to find his way out - or try to. No sooner had he done so than he fell mortally wounded, and because of heavy enemy fire our chaps had to get out after his Corporal satisfied himself that Ronnie was dead.

Mavis knew him a fine young Lieutenant, married just before he left home: he was from Geraldton. His body was never recovered at the time of writing this [originally], but later I was to learn that it was recovered after the surrender with the cooperation of the Japs. He was re- interred in Bomana War Cemetery, NG.

After hostilities ended we, of course, had many prisoners on our hands and we recruited some of these to help find the bodies of our men. As I said, they were cooperative - if not obliging - and they took us to a number of sites where they had buried our dead. Ronnie Webb and George McCarten were among them. Some of the bodies could not, of course, be identified, and I guess they became Unknown Soldiers.

Japs, in many instances, had given them a Christian burial even with a crude cross at the head of the grave. lf there was ever a time I thought of a little goodness in the Japs favour, it was surely then.

DE: Commo Moffatt [page 7]
On the occasion of a patrol going out to seek information, one of its members became lost when scouting a ridge. His mates called out again and again Moffatt, Moffatt, without response. You can't see more than 25 or 30 yards at the best of times in the jungle, and Moffatt was nowhere to be seen. Some bright lad in the section called out Commo as loudly as he could, with the result of a casual reply emitting seemingly from nowhere, "Here I am, what's up?" Commo was an ardent communist, and thereafter that Ridge where Commo got lost was known as Commo Ridge. It was also known as the biggest battle of our Company's war.

DE: Ray Richards [page 7]
My Corporal and 2 I/C [second-in-command] - Ray Richards - could be credited with saving my life on a patrol. We ran into a small party of Japs in the jungle: I never saw them, being towards the rear. All of a sudden, Ray opened up with his Owen gun and yelled Out. He told me afterwards a Jap was just taking a bead on me when he got in first. I didn’t think too much of that, especially as they left me for dead in the excitement which followed! But they came back for me! Ray and the boys claimed the Jap was killed.
In the reverse, I could have saved his life in a later skirmish. We were under heavy fire from bunker positions. Ray had his spleen shot out and, when he fell, l dragged him to cover and tried to press the spleen back, then bound his body with my field dressing and then the stretcher- bearers took over. He was sent to a base-camp at TORAKINA, and the last I saw of him was at the hospital, laughing and joking. The war was over for him and he was later repatriated to Aussie.

DE: Captain Ogden [page 7]
He was blown to pieces by a detonated Arty shell when following a jeep. My very close friend, Lt Ray Orton [an accountant] was under his command and not far away when the tragedy happened. He was from B Company. [Ray was a West Aussie and, whilst we did not see so much of each other in the field, we managed to see each other on leave and on other occasions such as in rest camps.]

DE: Private Frank Bloomer [page 7]
He was a quite harmless and unassuming boy - he was so young! He was killed almost instantly by one of our booby—traps when taking it up with others from the perimeter. He staggered around and I caught him when he fell and he died in my arms. I handed him over to the medical orderlies who were nearby. They took him away to the First Aid Post but he was beyond any aid. I strode back to my quarters and had a good cry alone. So young to be taken away.

DE: Night of the big storm [page 7]
As mentioned previously, l was really frightened one dark night during a terrible storm. You couldn’t see a thing in front of you: the thunder was deafening: the lightning some of the most vivid I have ever seen. The wind was so intense it brought down trees; and branches were crashing everywhere and setting our booby-traps off by falling onto the trip-wires. I think about 50 went off that night. The incessant rain flooded us out but there was nothing we could do except stay put. With so much noise and confusion some people had to be forcibly restrained from jumping out of their pits. Goodness knows where they would have ended up if they were to have been let go the boobies weren't far away. Despite the noise I heard a chap yell out hysterically, the Japs are coming as he tried to climb out of his pit. One consolation - we knew if there were any Japs in the vicinity they would have been just as frightened as we were! A scene of devastation greeted us when daylight came, and we set- to immediately to take stock and clear our traps and tidy-up a bit.

DE: George McCarten [page 7]
One of the nicest guys you could ever meet. He was from either Victoria or New South Wales and I fancy the former. Mavis knew him too. Whilst our Battalion was a Victorian battalion, recruited in the City of Ballarat, most of the 8th Battalion officers were from different States: it was the Army's idea apparently to mix the officers within Battalions when they had been commissioned, and that's how I met George. Back to war action: after occupying a position after driving the enemy off, we were relieved by George McCartens B Company. We had been in occupation for 5 or 6 days and the Battalion held that position until the end of the war. The day following the take-over by George's Company he was sent out on a patrol and, sad to say, he never came back, and neither did four others of his patrol.

DE: Lt Fred Boddington [page 7]
[A distant relative of Aubrey, Mavis' brother-in-law, as I understand it.]
Fred wounded himself, almost fatally, outside our Battalion HQ! He had come up with his Company to relieve us so we could go to a rest camp on the sea. He was as happy as Larry, laughing and joking all the time awaiting our respective movements. Reminiscing past occasions, and the good times we had spent together, was well covered when Fred suddenly remembered that he had forgotten to hand in his pay-book to Battalion HQ. he rummaged in his pockets in his search and, whilst doing so, let his rifle clatter to the ground and, bang, off it went! I felt quite guilty about this mishap because, during our meeting I had told him to be on guard all the time as there were plenty of Nips around. At some stage during our meeting he had put on the safety-catch of his rifle before he searched for his pay-book and just prior to moving off: I had not seen him do this. The bullet skimmed along his belly, shattering his breast and grazing his forehead. He was immediately taken to TORAKINA. He didn't see much else of the war. Even when we were talking at Battalion HQ that time, he said he had just left a cushy job guarding the General's residence on a small off-shore island. We parted in a most cordial atmosphere, and neither of us remarked on the terrible jokes we played on each other on leave school etc. on the mainland. One of my jokes backfired on me, but it wasn't mentioned when I was talking to Fred on the RATSUA track. It's worth relating [see "Amusing Sidelights" Supplement 3, pages 4/5].

SUPPLEMENT 2

GENERAL COMMENTS
We embarked for overseas service on an American transport troop carrier - the USS Shawnee at Townsville, early 1945.

The USS Shawnee was a former cruise-liner that operated from the west coast of the USA, and was in the same class I believe - as the Monterey, the Mariposa and the Niagara. The latter three ships plied frequently between the USA and Sydney and were well known. We had just finished our jungle training on the Atherton Tablelands and we were not, of course, officially informed of our destination. Our guess had to be either New Guinea or the Solomons. The American crew and the officials on the ship treated us well, and we got to know some of them very well during the few days voyage. The ship was totally blacked out at night, and there was no smoking on deck. There was no air-conditioning below decks and, of course, being in the tropics, everyone clambered for the deck. It was the duty of one of the crew members to patrol the deck, looking out for people smoking, and we became quite friendly with him. We called him half-pint because he was so small, and frequently the word went around that half-pint was on his way and put your fags out! He told us he loved Australia and was coming back here after the war and would open up a string of restaurants where people could go out for a meal at night.

I said to him "You wouldn't do any good in this country, we eat at home and don't go out of an evening to eat." [This was true at the time, but how different now.] I often wonder whether the old half-pint ever did come back as he said he would.

One morning, quite early [I was sleeping on deck], I awoke and saw in the distance, on the port side of the ship, huge mountains which looked grim and forbidding. They would have to have been 30 or 40 miles distant and, as we wondered what they were, an officer of the ship told us they were the mountains of New Guinea. As we seemed to be going away from them, I then realised we were heading for Bougainville in the Solomons. And the Solomons it was.

The Brigade was split up there. My Battalion finished up going north to EMIRAU, a small but beautiful island near the equator. As a matter of interest, I used to have my little joke and say if you stood on a kerosene box you could see the equator stretching either side of you!

High Command seemed to have instituted a policy whereby the Australians cleaned up after the Yanks went through on the way to the Japs homeland! We were to work southward to the BONIS PENINSULA on Bouganville. There were no Japs on EMIRAU, and we went down to GREEN ISLAND and thence to RATSUA. Three Japs were on GREEN ISLAND. I was stationed there for a while, and that's where my diary began.

During the engagement at Commo Ridge we couldn't make out why our grenades were taking so long to explode when thrown at the enemy positions. We pondered on this, and knew there was something amiss when the grenades appeared to be thrown back at us. A hurried assessment revealed that they were seven-second grenades [rifle-grenades, fired from a rifle] and it all turned out that it was the fault of the Padre who, when he handed them out, muttered Praise the Lord, and pass the ammunition. I didn't want him to come with us really, but he turned out to be a fighting Irishman and insisted, so I said Go over to the dump and get a box of grenades. He either took a box or was given a box by someone but they were the wrong sort and should have been four- seconds. The Japs woke up quickly to the situation so we then held the grenades for about 2 seconds before throwing which, we found, remedied the situation!

Although I didn't take too kindly to the Padre coming along with us, I really resented a certain transport officer attaching himself to us and he was armed with a camera. He had only one objective in mind and that was taking action snaps and photographing dead Japs. When he learnt that the Japs were throwing our own grenades back at us, he said I would have done the same thing. But, later, when he saw the hand of a Jap, blown from the body, in a bunker, I think he kinda thought differently.

Amidst all the rumours, or otherwise, that the war was over, I was sent out on patrol. I simply went to the edge of our perimeter and invited the boys to sit down and have a smoke after taking up defensive positions. We just stayed there, waiting for something to happen, and something did happen. A runner came tearing along the track and told us to come back to camp the war was over. But was it? I wasn't going to get shot-up at this late hour, and the boys were quite relieved and didn't think any the less of me hanging around a bit. As you will see ... she was still on.

August 13th: I have never ceased thanking the Lord for my good fortune in coming through the war unscathed, and I know I had some near- misses and a lot of good luck. The worst thing that ever happened to me was to get Dobies Itch which was a fungus or mould which grew on the testicles, brought about by being so long in the humid, sweaty conditions without washing. Heavens!! it was itchy!!! I nearly tore the affected parts to pieces. And when I was treated, back at base, with mercurochrome which burnt it off - I nearly jumped out of my skin -particularly when I went for a swim in the nearby sea [salt water!].
Another of my worst experiences was that trek over the Peninsula to RURI BAY. My men and I were hastily equipped with extras, and given a moment's notice to get on our way. Death lurked every yard we covered: ambushes could be expected at any moment: Terrible country which probably had, at that time, been rarely travelled by white men. I was really scared when, at the end of the track, I came to a large creek or river, with a steep bank either side. I wouldn't cross it and had the men take up defensive positions on the high ground. I called it Death Valley as it portended evil. On the way out from HQ was an outpost in the care of a certain Lieutenant, whose name I now forget, and I told him my mission and he wished me luck. When I came back, on the return trip, he had been killed. On the whole of the journey to RURI BAY, and back, we never saw a Jap. We were told later that the party of Japs we were to apprehend had gone through on their way North whilst we were further along the track. It could well be they were the Japs who engaged the outpost mentioned above.
Casualties were high, even some trivial ones in our ranks, but we all came in for our share of them. Poor old B Company in particular. In our own ranks, I recall a young lad of Italian descent, taking aim and blowing off his big toe so he wouldn't have to fight any longer. I couldn't brand him a coward because we were all cowards in a sense and could be killed at any time. In some cases, men couldn't stand up to the fighting, and had to be relieved.

I remember in particular, a certain Captain -a cocky little fellow who was extremely disliked. During an engagement, we were getting the worst of it, and he sat down and cried and had to be relieved of his command. I never saw him again after that. As mentioned earlier, I was lucky when the war was over and I was still intact, but I couldn't help but think of my poor, unfortunate comrades who weren't so lucky and I am reminded, vividly, of them on so many occasions.

When the Japs formally surrendered we did not allow ourselves to take any risks, and always carried a rifle, or a weapon of some sort, around with us because of the fear of being sprung upon by a fanatic Jap who had been in hiding and didn't know the war had ended.

Not many of us had much to do with the Japs on cessation of hostilities, but it was necessary to use them on occasions - particularly when it came to locating the remains of our troops who had been killed. The Japs were a motley lot for the most part, and in addition, extremely docile: I'm sure they were glad it was all over. Very few indeed could speak any English, but one or two could communicate. We found out they were almost out of everything - food, ammunition and heavy weapons - because their supply lines had been cut off for so long. They apparently knew a little about us and they said part of their time was spent in harassing us. We often used to hear our booby-traps exploding during the nights, and thumps in our area, and the Japs told us that they used to sneak up to our defences and throw mud or rocks at us. They also told us they enjoyed our picture shows: we had a place which we regarded as a safe area, well back from the front, where the Army would put on a picture show. One Jap told us he and his mates would sneak up to where they could see and hear the movies and he had enjoyed seeing "Gone out of the Window" [Gone with the Wind]!

The Japs also knew about our wonderful Salvation Army; these good people used to set themselves up almost on our perimeters ... the last outpost to pass when going out on patrol, and the first on return ... and the passing back and forth of our supply chain. The Japs never molested them, and I often wonder whether they gave the Japs a cup of coffee or tea or a biscuit or cool drink just as they gave these to us.

We had oodles of time on our hands while we waited for a ship home, and, in my case it took about four months before I arrived home in January 1946. But really I was never bored. Plenty of time to write, as you will see from the Attachments with my diary. There was hunting [of wild pigs] but we were not allowed to eat them because of TB [tuberculosis] so we gave them to the natives who had been eating wild pig for hundreds of years. We went fishing we made our own native-style canoes with outrigger, called a lacatoy. It was remarkable that, always in the ranks of the Army could be found a butcher, baker and a canoe- maker. We would go inland to where suitable trees grew and would then select a tree that grew close to the bank of a river or stream which led to the sea. My tree was a kind of balsa - anyway, that's what I called it and it probably was, and that, of course, was what was required.. something easy to fashion and light to handle. When the tree was felled the boys immediately set to work to hollow it out, using axes and chisels [I don't think we had any azes].

There were dozens of oysters to be had for the fishing in our backyard, so to speak, and on the numerous small islands which we were able to visit in our canoe. I didn't eat them in those days, but the great majority of the boys gorged themselves. Then there were the crayfish. If we couldn't find these in the shallow reefs, we'd get the native boys to dive for them. I certainly liked crays, but I reckon they weren't as tasty as the small "Dongara Crays" [so called... and from home].

Back to the lacatoy: when we had felled the tree and hollowed it out, we rolled it on tree rollers to the stream, creek or river, launched it and then poled or pushed it towards the sea and then down to our camp where we then fashioned the outrigger to give the canoe more stability. We would then fashion oars and then we'd be in business. Things were never too dull during the long wait to go home, though some of us had to wait longer than others. It was all worked out on a points system - those who had the biggest number of points meant they had been away the longest and so were the earliest to go home. The long wait was due to not enough ships or planes and this was because there were hundreds of thousands of people all over war theatres also waiting to get home. But there were all sorts of things organised for us such as visits from artists, film stars and so on along with concerts, picnics, visits to outlying islands and visits to native villages where they put on exhibitions of native dancing.

During hostilities, we had some access to the fit native men arranged through ANGAU and these people patrolled with us, carried food and ammunition, laid corduroy tracks and, most importantly, carried out the roles of stretcher-bearers. The native women were locked away in compounds and were looked after by the old men and children of the village or tribe. After the war ceased, ANGAU released them and they were all gradually resettled in their villages. The natives who helped us, and I refer in particular to the stretcher-bearers who served with our forces for the duration, will never be forgotten - their bravery is well documented for history.

During the long stay while we waited for our ship for the journey home, we came to know some of the natives very well, and they would often enjoy a joke and would laugh their heads off if they were able to understand it. They were partial to ki-ki [bully-beef in particular] sugar, other goodies and, of course, cigarettes - they sometimes carried one or two cigarettes on each ear. But they didn't like work, and they would feign illness at times. They were just content to laze around and cadge smokes or anything else you would be prepared to give them which they liked. Some amusing incidents are related in Supplement 3.

TORAKINA was not far away and our big, efficient, AGH was there staffed with a matron [Lieutenant Colonel], sisters and nurses, and during our long stay they ministered to our ailments which they also did in the many theatres of war during and after hostilities with loving care and tenderness.

Attachment 1

WX29765 Lt S M Tuckey C coy 8Bn (AIF] Late 16Bn [AIF]

Extract from a letter home from a rest camp, Bougainville, 1945 [A visit to an ANGAU village with the ANGAU Medical Officer and my observations. ANGAU stands for Australian New Guinea Administrative Unit.]

[Starts into page 2] …..a matter of fact when he said his name was CLEMENTSON. I nearly said "BILL* CLEMENTSON?" we chatted for a few seconds and he moved off.

I told you I was going out to ANGAU yesterday. A couple of friends wanted to look through the native villages. A W02, who is the ANGAU Medical Officer in these islands volunteered to show us around. He was awfully interesting and we were very fortunate to have had him, for if you poke around by yourself, there is really nothing to see or learn. This fellow went among the natives with us, patting the little ones on the head, even taking a baby from its mothers arms, having a kindly word with the women, a chat with the men, and even a joke with the small boys. He moved among them just the same as a kindly country doctor would among our own. You could easily see that the natives had a high regard for him - perhaps even a love of him. One little child in arms I saw, was one of the most bright-eyed, well proportioned, prettiest kid I have ever seen. The WO took him up and he cried so he gave the child to his mother who gave him her "tittyn [You don't like that one do you? but it sounds good.] It was most amusing listening to our guide asking questions and on our behalf to the natives and hearing their replied - all in Pidgin. I couldn't help but wonder what the natives thought of us walking around, looking at them and asking questions. We asked our guide to ask a Police Boy what he thought of it all. He replied in effect that he thought we were a damn lot of silly buggers, which was as I thought and over which we all had a good laugh. There is nothing more of interest I can write about regarding these people on top of what I have already told you except that there is a fair percentage of tropical sores among them, necessitating the evacuation of those affected from the adjoining islands so that they can come direct under the WO's care. There is practically no venereal disease amongst these people according to him - only two or three cases of the milder disease which was probably the result of forcible Jap cohabitation. Some of the tropical ulcers are huge, nasty weeping sores but they are cared for just as our own troops are. The WO has certainly his hands full but he enlists the help of two or three fine looking intelligent boys who wear a red cross on their arms. One particular lovely looking, soft skinned boy of about 17, is his clerk, and keeps the record of the sick parades, the names of the patients, whether they are present or not, and their ailments. He writes in Pidgin, being taught by the missionaries. The names of the patients are entered thus: first the native name which may be "Seelus" and then the mission name which may be "Joe".

Although Marys and boys live close together in the villages, there is apparently no promiscuous intercourse between unmarried Boys and Marys, or somebody else's wives or husbands. Some of the Boys have two wives, generally the older men who have more assets in the way of pigs, fruit or fowls which they give in exchange to the parents of the daughters to be wedded. A lot of natives these days are married the same as we are, by a missionary, others of course have their own ceremonies where the missions are not established.

Like us, these people have their village prostitutes, not recognised by them officially and usually frowned on amongst themselves and in addition punished by ANGAU if caught - more of the freelance variety. I said, earlier, I had nothing more to write about them except now look what I have gone and done. Funny how you think of things as you go along. Do you know, it's a striking coincidence regarding the picture I enclose in that I have intended to send you this during the last few days [with the remark "Isn't she lovely? This is how I want our Joanie to look].

END OF EXTRACT

• Bill Clementson:
  

I met him at the aerodrome. He was a Lt. Col but I knew him when he was the RSM of the 35th Fortress Company Engineers, which included the guns and searchlights at Fremantle. That would be about 15 years before I remembered him.

Extract from a further letter home from a rest camp, Bougainville, 1945 [At a rest camp ... A character we called "Commo" and others of my Unit.]

…… Had a bit of fun this morning. We have in Platoon the usual drongo who is always to be found in every Unit. He is a pimply-faced kid, short of stature, with eyes like a possum, and stutters. He says some terribly funny things, using swear words as adjectives - that's where he is so funny. The boys tease the life out of him and he takes it all in good part and so is very popular. He is the most casual fellow I've ever come across. Out on patrol, instead of sneaking along, he walked down the track in full view just as if he was going for a stroll in Hyde Park. On one occasion he was lying alongside of me when a Nip advanced upon us. I was in full view of the Jap who I believe was contemplating having a ping at me but I couldn't see the devil because of a tree. Our hero could have shot him but instead elected to bury his head like an ostrich. However, one of my Corporals shot the old Nip and we then vamoosed, seeking healthier spots as we were almost in the Jap defences. Well, to get back to my story, Albert, for that is the name of our hero, had his 21st birthday party today. I had the Platoon on parade and called him out on the pretext of lecturing him about the manner he was wearing his beret [We wear green berets now, by the way, up here at any rate and they are most comfortable. I don't know whether we'll wear them on the mainland/they may become night dress.] I gave a good speech, regretting that on this momentous occasion, we were not able to show our esteem of him by giving him something worthy of the event, however we took great pleasure in presenting him with a small token of our esteem by presenting to him this little gift. Here I handed him a tin of bully beef wrapped up with a piece of foolscap and tied with string. We asked him to untie it but before doing so, requested a speech with much "egging" on into the bargain. Albert began to stutter and said "If I know what to say ... [can't write the words, they're not printable]. But when he saw what it was he swore again and tossed it in the sea. The boys then sang "Happy Birthday".

However, I gave Albert a real present by buying his beer for him that night. As a matter of fact I bought the whole Platoon's - 20 men It gave me great pleasure to do this and it's really no loss as I won the money at poker on the occasion I told you about previously. I felt it was a nice gesture of my appreciation of their good work up top. They did a wonderful job without exception. Would go anywhere and do anything without having to be told. They were most always cheerful in the face of the most adverse circumstances. Up there, there were no badges of rank worn. No salutes or Sirs/ just Tuck. I wouldn't be parted from these chaps, so high is my esteem for them. They'll do anything for me.

We have another bit of a "lad" in the Platoon who falls into a different category. He is an Italian lad who is sometimes called "Spaghetti". This fellow is as lean as a kangaroo and must needs be always on the go or doing something. Chief among these things is his ability of climbing trees. He climbs a coconut tree which is no mean feat as well as any native and some coconut trees are 40 or 50 feet high. It is said his mother is also good at it. Apparently it runs in the family for his brother at Wewak when it was captured from the Japs rushed on ahead, climbed the flagpole from which the Nip flag flew and put up ours, getting shot to the ground by the Nip [wounded] and receiving a medal from us. "Spaghetti" is a wizard for unearthing things. One day up the front he climbed a tree and pulled down a possum, a ring-tail, which are fairly numerous up here and used to frighten the hell out of us of a night by making a noise and running over our shelters. Well, he made a wooden cage of sorts / a further tribute to his resourcefulness, and housed him for the night. In the morning he attempted to tame him and actually had him feeding from the hand. He fed that possum on the following and he ate every bit of it, 9 dog biscuits, half an apple, a slice of paw paw, a piece of toast, a piece of chocolate, and then gave him a drink of water. He then hung him up on the limb of a tree by his tail, they hang by their tail head down to have a sleep. When he noticed the possum again he had swollen up to enormous proportions and, on tapping the creature on the tummy, it went ping. The possum was quite dead! A post-mortem indicated that the water has swollen the Army biscuits which caused his untimely death. The boys gave the possum a better burial than a Jap, and fussed around to no end fashioning a cross.
END OF EXTRACT

SUPPLEMENT 3
AMUSING SIDELIGHTS
One day I asked a boy to help me carry our canoe down to the water. He did, and I knew he expected a tip. I took out my cigarettes and, when I extracted one to give him like we do at home four came out at once... and he took the lot, much to my bewilderment. It made me quite wary after that, but I had to laugh.

On an occasion when we employed the natives to lay down a corduroy track [a track made of small logs or straight tree branches laid alongside each other], if we noticed any natives "loafing as was not unusual - we would say "You too much Pom Pom bugger up, finish plenty quick", they would get very annoyed at this because 'Pom Pom' was sex - but the result was - they worked all the harder to show it wasn't the case!
One of our NCOs [Non-Commissioned Officer] was trying to persuade a "boy" to go into the jungle with him to cut corduroy timber. The "boy" hesitated and our man told him to "get going or else". No, me not go," said the native, "Me go, Jap see me. Jap go 'Bang'. You go. Jap see you, you go 'Boong'."
On another occasion, one of our men was sitting down during a spell with a working party. A "Boy" came up and squatted alongside him and started to tell him all his family history. "Me Lae boy. Me got no money," he said, and then, very abruptly, "Me got no smokes." Our chap thought he would kid [tease] him a bit and said, "Oh, you don't smoke." "Yes, me do," was the answer, "Me got no smokes." He was given a "fag" and he moved off with no further discourse of history to cadge from someone else!

King Tayroa… I was the last out of RATSUA and instructions were to burn everything, including huts and other buildings, before leaving. We had taken the Jap surrender on BUKA and, with the prisoners safely in the cooler, we had nothing more to do in that region. I have covered the surrender in my article "Will we ever understand the Japanese?" [Supplement 6]. The King was an old man with hardly a tooth in his head, and, in cleaning up, I came across some tinned peaches or apricots, and offered them to him. He shook his head vigorously and said he wanted "Bull-um-ma-cow" [Bully-beef]. I felt a little sad when I had to tell him we didn't have any and, when I had to go, leaving him a forlorn and pathetic figure. And I was sad, too, at leaving the native "Boys", so many of whom had been so trustworthy and faithful to us. During my association with the King, I showed him a picture from an overseas publication of a buxom female. He said, pointing at her, "Number one Mary!" The last I saw of him was when I set fire to the huts and he was running for his life or so it seemed.

The Black Brigadier...
In a particular area of South Bougainville, we had an outstanding native [who was on our side] we called "The Black Brigadier". He was responsible for a mass air-strike on the Japs by pin- pointing their positions by hanging "lap laps" [native clothing] on the trees where the Japs were in occupation. Towards the closing stages of the war the natives had caught on that the Japs were being beaten and would say "Him Jap man soon be bugger up finish. He bad manse"
One evening I informed my sergeant he would be sleeping in his area by himself that night as we were a man short [we had two men to a pit - 1 to sleep and the other to guard [or at least supposed to be on guard!] but he usually went to sleep too. The sergeant didn't like the idea of being a loner but had no options. That particular night was very dark, and it wasn't too long before I heard a thump, thump, thump... and a figure hurtled out of the gloom heading into my pit and screaming, "Snake! Snake!" He explained the reason he was in a hurry - apart from the snake was that a chap next door to him had been shot in the leg not long before for moving out of his pit to satisfy nature! In the morning we had a look in the sergeant's pit and found a newly born 6" copper-head snake.
One of our fellows happened to see a Nip, in full view, down by the track, having a wee, but couldn't bring himself to shoot the Nip on such a delicate mission... and let him go.
Another of our fellows saw a Jap coming along a track, but the Jap didn't see him so, he took careful aim and told us that he said, when firing "God rest my soul", so it was bang and "another redskin bit the dust" , so to speak.

The Roman Catholic Padre we had with the Unit [mentioned in Supplement 21 was known as "Paddy, that mad Irishman". He was a good old sort, not averse to having a drink, a smoke or a little gamble. he always carried a rifle his own, or someone else's at times. He always said he carried a gun as the Japs had no rules of war. One day he was walking with a "Conchie" [conscientious objector] along a track when they spied some Nips. The Padre asked the "Conchie" what he was going to do about it. Conchie said, "Nothing." "Well," said old Paddy, "You pray like hell, I'll shoot like hell, and we'll see who gets the most Japs!"

After the attack on Commo Ridge, no doubt the Nips were feeling a bit groggy after the barrage. During the advance, one of our boys happened to see a rifle against a bunker wall and thought he would reach in and grab it. A hand quickly shot out to retrieve it which led to the Nip joining his ancestors!

It wasn't long before we had our small canoe ready to go fishing. We had fashioned a pair of oars from the limbs of the balsa tree, together with the outrigger. We had no bait, burley or lines just half-a-dozen 4- second grenades! It was no trouble to get a crew and I picked a good diver [Jacky Maine] and a good swimmer, and I reckoned that was enough for a small vessel of 12 feet. But a very persistent bloke, known as Kuni Kate, begged me to take him along. I didn't like it a bit because Kuni was a big, awkward young bloke, and he was about 6' 2 inches tall. People hated going on patrol with him, particularly in Kuni grass country, because he was a dead give-away to the Japs On account of his head which was always above the top of the grass, and, despite our protestations to pull his head in, he still held it up and really it was quite amusing just to see a head one head - moving through the grass, and no-one else in sight.
Well, with the other boys agreement, I capitulated, and warned Kuni he had to be still, and not move. I figured the out-rigger would restore any instability. Out from the shore, about 600 yards, we pulled up on the edge of the reef and gazed down through the clean, clear water. And what did we see but some monstrous trevally [skip-jack]. I loosed a couple of grenades and, once the water and everything else had settled again saw about nine of these huge fish lying on the sea-bed stunned, or swimming feebly in circles. Kuni forgot what he had been told and when Jacky got ready to dive to retrieve the fish Kuni also stood up and in that instant over went our lacotoy and us with it. When I surfaced I yelled Into shore and we were off because we knew sharks would soon be around. I lost my hat and, as I valued it, precious moments were wasted in retrieving it; then, as hard as I could, I swam to shore. The other boys were already there as I dragged myself up onto the sandy beach and, what do you know - the sharks had found the fish we had stunned and were fighting over them, thrashing and splashing the water to a great degree. We looked at Kuni and he grinned and said he was sorry. We didn't take him out with us any more, and I don't think Jacky was a bit sorry! Jacky, by the way, was an excellent swimmer and diver. After the capitulation he was recommended for a Military Medal but, as we were all split up in due course, I never knew whether he received it or what he actually did to earn it.
Another fishing story centred around my very good friend, Lt Fred McKay [pronounced "kit']. We used to call Fred "Fan Belt" because when he was on manoeuvres, or patrol, he would lose himself and go around in circles until he found himself back where he had started. Fred, like Jacky Maine, was an excellent swimmer and diver. On this particular day just the two of us Fred and I - went fishing. [Our boat had drifted ashore from our previous expedition and, apart from the out-rigger receiving some damage, and the paddles being missing, it was soon repaired and equipped with new oars.] We paddled the boat to the reef and came to a part that had a nice clear bottom, about 20ft to the sea-bed. The water was so clear that you could see the formation of the coral in minute detail. This time we had some dog biscuits with us and were soon in business after crumbling a few of the biscuits and dropping the crumbs overboard to attract the fish. One big trevally started to move in, as did other fish, and 3 exploded grenades quickly left about a dozen of the fish on the bottom. Fred dived and quickly returned with two fish which he handed to me. He went back for a 3rd: I could see him working as clear as anything, and it appeared he was having some trouble with a fish as it was wedged under a ledge of the reef. Just at that moment, horror of horrors - a bloody great shark swam over Fred's head and underneath the boat. I was powerless. I couldn't shout out. I had no way to signal or communicate with Fred - I just had to sit where I was. I couldn't throw a grenade for fear of injuring Fred. But Fred had to come up for air with no fish. I saw him leave the fish and start to swim up to the boat, and I just kept praying all the time. When at last he grabbed the side of the boat, I said, in a very strong, low voice - as calm as I could make it because I didn't want any panic at this stage "You've done well mate. Come on, we must go, I'll give you a hand up." He readily accepted and I didn't tell him about the shark until he was well and truly in the canoe. It looked like a tiger shark and was easily as long as the canoe [about 12 feet]: he couldn't have been hungry that day! Fred accepted it all as an everyday happening, but we had to cut out fishing that way in the future. It was too dangerous and so we concentrated on picking up oysters from the nearby islands, catching crayfish, gathering cowrie shells and other rare specimens which we would make into ornaments to bring home.

We had a good way to get the fish from the cowrie shells - by burying them in an ants nest. After a week or so, the ants had cleaned every morsel of meat from the shell but did it pong!!

[Some of those "skippy", by the way, were up to 20lbs or more in weight.]

One day, not long before leaving the island, my old friend Fan Belt came up to me and said, "Tuck, I wonder if you could do a favour for me?" I said, "Yeah, what ya want Fred?"

"Well," he said, "I arranged a picnic with a couple of sisters from the hospital. I am to get a jeep and we planned going together, with another chap, into the interior where I understand there's a good place to swim.

"It's arranged for Sunday," he said, "but I have just found out I'm to be posted for Orderly Officer on Sunday and, as I recently had someone "fill-in" for me, I can't very well do it again. Would you like to take my place at the picnic?"

I felt like shouting out at the top of my voice "Of course I will - anytime you say!" but I pretended I might have other arrangements and hummed and haa-ed a bit. I ended up saying "I think that will be alright, Fred. To which he replied, Thanks Tuck, you're a pal. Well, I couldn't believe I could be so fortunate. I fancied one of the sisters from the hospital and I started to wonder what she would look like, and whether she would be good fun. I visualised the goodies they would bring along to the picnic. We had plenty of beer, cigarettes and spirits, and I knew they would have chicken, turkey and ham. I couldn't wait for the big day to come, and prayed nothing would happen to disappoint me. The day arrived and the other officer in the party duly picked me up in the jeep at the appointed time and off we set sail to collect the girls from the hospital in TORAKINA. I couldn't help but wonder which one I would end up partnering and what if she were a big fat woman of say 14 stone! Or whether she had hair growing on her legs! Finally, we arrived at the hospital grounds and there they were, waiting for us at the gate. We introduced ourselves all round and the girl I knew who was meant for me said "Stirling Tuckey? You're not the husband of Mavis Tuckey?" I was shocked, and stammered nervously, "Yes, I guess I am." The sister said "I'm Eileen Shepherd*. My sister Joan is a great friend of Mavis." I knew Joan, and had known her for a long time, but I hadn't known she had a sister in the Army. Well, things went a bit flat for me but we really had a very nice day, with no "funny business" of course. It was better than staying in the camp on a Sunday, and the tucker was good compared with our fare in camp. And there was no Bible to read.

• Not her real name.
  

Fred Boddington: I don't think Fred ever forgave me for playing one of these jokes on him which turned rather sour.

Once, when I was stationed at Bathurst, at a school, Fred arrived suddenly without any prior advice. We had a very pleasant few days together and I delighted in waking up in the middle of the night and pulling Fred's blankets off him: he slept so soundly, with much snoring, and, Geez, it was cold at Bathurst, about 100 below!! I had to move on somewhere and was about to get into the jeep and shook Fred's hand, and said, "Before I go, I want to ask you a question I've wanted to know the answer to for a long time."
"What's that, Tuck?" he said.
"When is this bloody war going to end?"
I saw the world was going to explode and hurriedly settled in the jeep. "It was you, you... you... bastard. You nearly wrecked my marriage to be."
"It's funny," I said, "You've been here 3 or 4 days and you haven't mentioned a word of it."
"I didn't bloody well know it was you, you so and so - I never gave you a thought."

So ... what was all this about? I'll tell you. Before Bathurst, Fred and I were doing a course of instruction, or instructing at Seymour in Victoria. Fred only had a fortnight there when he caught a bad dose of influenza and had to go to Heidelberg Hospital. He was there much longer than anticipated and fell in love with a lovely looking young nurse. I wasn't to know this until much later. He must have been there a month or so due to complications. I hadn't heard from him but, after 2 or 3 weeks I thought, I will write to him and I did so ...purporting to come from an old girlfriend, with a fictitious address in St Kilda Road, St Kilda. At that time my brother-in-law and his lady love were staying in Melbourne, and I put her in the picture and asked her to write a letter which I had drafted out for the purpose. It went something like this …

270 St Kilda Road
St Kilda
My Darling Fred,
It's a long time since I've seen you, and I miss you dreadfully blah, blah, blah .. for a few paragraphs and filling up the whole of the front page: the letter then went on to tell of the writer's great concern at the trouble the writer was in and wanting to ask Fred a question. On the next page, the letter went on Fred, what I want to ask you is .When is this bloody war going to end?
[signed] Marion.

I spilt some of my friend's powder inside the envelope, put a bit of lipstick on it, and closed it up. Next, a stamp, and over to the camp Post Office. The envelope I had addressed to Lt F Boddington of such-and- such-a-camp, Seymour. I told the postmaster the letter was for my friend and as it had obviously slipped through the post without being cancelled, would he do this and I could re-address it when I found his new address. To give the letter a bit of "substance" I crossed out the Seymour address with red pen and wrote "try such-and-such " and then an address in a place in Melbourne, then, finally, "c/- AGH Heidelberg" - and the letter looked quite "travelled".
Fred told me he got the letter alright through his lady love at the Hospital handing it to him, and they wondered who it was from and so opened it together - and fell sick together when starting to read it. They decided then they would go out to see "Marion" and caught a tram to St Kilda, but nowhere could they find 270 St Kilda Road because all numbers petered out at the War Memorial. I said to Fred that they both must have been bloody fools not to read the page overleaf. He said that they did when they couldn't find the address. The next time I caught up with him was on the track in Bougainville when he shot himself! The incident was not mentioned there.. Looking back on all this, it seemed incredible that two people of their standing could be so duped, and I said "You must have read the second page to see the "girl-friend's" name was Marion."
he replied, "It wasn't [the question] on that page - it was on another page, in the form of a PS." Ho, hum!

Commissioned:
I'll never forget the evening when I was commissioned. I knew I was going to get it, as did so many others, along with promotions. After mess that night, my Company Commander came to my Orderly Room [I was Sergeant-Major at the time], sat on the end of my bunk and counted out, from a paper bag, four "pips" which he placed in my hand and then shook hands with me - "pips" and all at the same time, wishing me luck. He apologised we couldn't have a beer on the occasion because we had already drunk our ration earlier in the evening. He then took leave of me and wandered out into the night to distribute the rest of his "goodies". I must have had an ironical grin on my face because he asked me what I was grinning about - this just as he was about to leave. I said "You look like Father Christmas." But that wasn't the real reason: I fell to musing on how the Yanks and other forces handed out their commissions and promotions. Unless in the heat of battle or in the field, it was usual for the Americans to make a ceremonial occasion of it. Their men were called on parade and the Commanding Officer, with his retinue, walked up to the man to present him with his award; pinned on the ribbons or handed him the badges of rank, made an announcement and shook the hand warmly. Then, after all that, the band struck up with, perhaps, the "Star Spangled Banner". And I had to grin when I thought of other nations such as the French. The men would be on parade - the recipients would be given their awards, plus a great big bear-hug and a fat, resounding kiss on each cheek!

After receiving my commission in the manner which I have described, I was almost immediately transferred, together with quite a few other new officers, to other forces located all over Australia.

Ray Orton: I have already mentioned my friend and bosom-pal, Lt Ray Orton. I first met him after we were transferred from Darwin as new officers to be posted elsewhere. He was formerly a member of the 11th battalion and, of course, a West Aussie. We met in TEROWI in South Australia. On the way down south we were destined to see a lot of each other in the near, and distant, future. For a start, we were posted to the same Victorian Battalion he to B Company, and me to C Company. We were on leave together, at schools, rest camps and other places. Our Battalion was the 8th, and formed part of the 23rd Brigade. We eventually found ourselves at Bougainville and at a base camp. One day we were all informed that we could expect a visit by a high- ranking officer, and it was to take place the morrow of that day. We were told we had to scrub-up a bit shave, polish our boots etc. and look the part of the great Aussie soldier. [There were no beards or long hair to worry about in those days - so everybody could be uniform. ] It didn't take us long to guess who the visitor would be. "Old Tom" we said, and it was indeed General Blamey, later to become Field Marshal Sir Thomas Blamey. We all called him Old Tom or just plain Tom not to his face of course and I wondered whether it was a term of endearment or disrespect! In due course Tom arrived by his barge with his but the water was so shallow - or the tide was out - that the barge grounded a little way from the shore, and everybody aboard who was going ashore had to jump out and wade. I thought Tom was going to do the McArthur act ... and storm ashore in his waders … not our Tom. One of his staff, a big hunk of a man, came up to the General, turned his back on him and Tom clambered aboard to be piggy-backed. His legs were tucked up so his feet wouldn't touch the water, and he took a firm grip of his beast of burden and was gently deposited on the shore. I felt sure that the chap who had carried him must have done the job before. Well, to get on with it all officers were "invited" to meet the General in a large marquee erected for the purpose. We all lined up and formed a circle and Tom moved around with his entourage, shaking hands and greeting everyone quite affably. When he came to me, and greeted me, I think I said "How do you do, Sir." or something like that, but his gaze seemed to focus on Ray alongside me and he said to Ray as he shook his hand vigorously, "We've met before?" I think Ray replied, don't think so, Sir." as Tom moved on. Afterwards, I told everyone around and for years to come - that Ray actually said "Yes, Tom. The last time was at that party in St Kilda, remember?" [Some people believed me only some!] I'm pretty certain that Tom, saying what he said to Ray, would be what he said to every 10th or so officer on parade. No doubt thinking that the particular officer would feel important.

AMUSING SIDELIGHTS
King Tayroa I will never forget him and I'll never forget our first meeting when he came down from his village to see what I was doing when cleaning up.He greeted me, "Me King, me King." I replied "0K King, where's your throne?" I knew he didn't have a clue to what I said, but he did point a gnarled and withered finger up the track from whence he descended on our camp. I received an outstanding surprise when one of the native boys present said in perfect English, "Oh, he hasn't got a throne, but he is the Chief". This chap was brought up in a mission and he could speak as good English as any one of our Platoon. I asked him what status he held as the King and he replied whilst he didn't have a throne he had the best grass hut in the village a double storey - he had two wives and twenty pigs. Suddenly I started to giggle uncontrollably, and I'm sure the King and his spokesman thought I had gone quite mad. Well, I suddenly remembered an old joke which went something like this…..

"There was once a Chief who ruled over an island. He was a very vain man and, though peaceful, he wanted the best of everything and he had little wars with his neighbours such as throwing sticks and stones. He had the best hut [of course] in his village a two-storey grass hut, with glass windows and doors. He had three "Marys- [one is enough for me, not three]. One day he called in his tradesmen and ordered them to build the best throne in the land, and if it wasn't, he would cut their heads off. It turned out to be a beauty and, instead of having their heads chopped off, each tradesman was given 2 pigs and a "Mary" chucked in. Well, the Chief started to boast so much that a neighbouring Chief got to know about the throne and decided he would visit him and have a look. This put the Chief in a panic and he decided he wasn't going to let his visitor see the throne because he knew it would be copied. So, he decided to hide it. Therefore he put it up in the top storey of the hut, and covered it up, out of sight. The neighbouring Chief duly arrived and they all sat on the floor of the hut, passing around the betel-nut and a drop or two of fermented coconut, when, suddenly - "CRASH", the throne came tumbling down from the upper storey and nearly killed the visiting Chief ... which goes to show you "People who live in grass houses should never stow thrones " !!
By the time I finished the story, the mission boy had nearly collapsed with laughing and the King, and the rest of his party, were affected the same. But the King didn't have a clue what it was all about.

SUPPLEMENT 4
REGRETTABLE HAPPENINGS IN THE CLOSING STAGES OF THE WAR AND AFTER THE CAPITULATION
Apart from enemy action in the closing stages of the war, it was inevitable that a number of our men, belonging to all our forces, would be killed or wounded due to carelessness - dropping their guard or celebrating prematurely.

The Japs were still at war, even when it was declared over, because there were thousands of them in the jungles who did not get the message: so, if you didn't take any precautions, you were nakedly exposed. Some of the instances regarding the casualties I have recorded not only within our own ranks, but other forces associated with us, and these follow.

One of our own mortar bombs landed in 13 Platoon area of 27 Battalion, killing nine and wounding two [at that particular time I was doing the patrol across the BONIS PENINSULA].

A tree limb fell and crashed on a 27th Battalion man at Commo Ridge. He later died from his injury.

Private Catman had the trigger of his rifle shot out and he lost two fingers.

Battalion cook and his mate were blown up by a Jap mine planted in their perimeter.

Our Company scout shot outside perimeter of 27th Battalion.

Fire from 27th Battalion resulted in killing two of our own men whilst digging a Nip grave, also shooting the cook in the bottom.

Further afield - an arty shell blew up a gun-crew of 6, killing 4 [usually there were three in the crew].

A tank was blown up by a 500 lb aerial bomb [thought to be], killing its crew of 3.

A sea-mine exploded at RATSUA, killing an artillery man.

Peace celebrations at TORAKINA resulted in 1 killed and 6 wounded [RAAF].

There were, of course, many other incidents of which I was unaware.

CONCLUSION
One morning, when I woke up, I glanced out to sea and saw the old "Katoomba" anchored in the bay, waiting to take us home. It was no time before we were ferried aboard and on our way. I can always remember the ship had some beautiful cold coke on board, and, to celebrate the occasion, we had a drink 6d a bottle. Old Bill [one of our Company Commanders] borrowed 6d from me and said he'd pay it back. He never did, and he still owes it to me. When we eventually got underway I couldn't help but remember the verse I wrote for such an occasion which I append here.

"MEN OF BOUGANVILLE"
[To our fallen Comrades]

Goodbye dark isle of Bougainville.
Isle of mud and rugged hill.
What have you offered them? I ask
Nothing but death, or weary task,
Nought but blood and sweat and tears,
All within two weary years.
Your bosom's stained a vivid red:
the blood of our immortal dead.
Of laughing boys, once full of jest;
They were Australia's very best.
Brave men all, who gave their lives,
So that a lasting peace survives.
They fought and died, but not in vain;
Through mud and slush and heavy rain.
On jungle track with hidden mines,
Through undergrowth and clinging vines.
Or in among the waving palms;
They met the Nip: they had no qualms.
Up your treacherous mountain tracks,
They staggered on with heavy packs.
Through fetid swamps and torrents wide,
Struggling for the other side.
Carrying out their dangerous role,
Onward, onward, to their goal.
Death lurked around each bend; maybe
A sniper perhaps in every tree.
An ambush set astride the track,
A Banzai charge in mad attack.
They faced them all and had no fear,
They fought for all that they held dear.
In every fight they showed their worth,
Against a foe of yellow birth.
A treacherous foe, so utterly cruel,
A foe who knew not warfare 's rule.
They thrashed him soundly, man for man,
And chased him when he screaming ran.
I said they died, but not in vain,
Immortal will their souls remain.
Honour them: forget them not,
Remember, death was but their lot.
Heroes of a grateful land,
At rest they sleep, neath God's own hand.

We arrived home safely in due course, and I found a daughter, 10 months old and, as I held my arms out to her, I said "Come to Uncle". I never lived that down!
I was discharged at Claremont Showgrounds on the 10th January 1946, and who do you think processed me? Why, it was my old friend Fred Boddington - he did it rather speedily. He told me his accident was the best thing that ever happened to him. He had married his nurse and they were both very happy. I called him Lucky, Lucky Fred. A week or so later I received my formal discharge certificate and it read, it its official jargon ... Lt Hirling Tuckey. I thought of Fred. After all, he processed and discharged me but I really didn't think it was him. More likely one of those drongos at Army HQ I used to encounter. Hirling! I felt like hurling myself at him.
In August 1966, I was commissioned by my firm to undertake a business visit to Port Moresby and Rabaul. Looking across the ocean from Rabaul it was only a mere 275 miles to where we were fighting on North Bougainville and I would have loved to have visited the one-time scene of operations - but so near and yet so far.
At Port Moresby I had the opportunity of visiting the Bomana War Cemetery just outside the town. Here I saw the graves or the headstones [headstones if there were no remains] of so many of my late companions or other people I knew. The graves were easily found because, in a crypt just in front of the graves was recorded the name and number of the person together with his regiment - this for every soldier buried there, e.g. Captain Wild, George McCarten, Captain Ogden, Ronnie Webb and many others. I could scarce but shed a tear and I stopped dead when I saw, right in front of me, a headstone with the caption "Lt Tuckey". He was not known to me and, as his regimental number was "SA" it was obvious he was from South Australia.

The cemetery was lovingly tended by the native Boys and filled with a profusion of vividly coloured tropical shrubs and trees with a green lawn covering the whole area. The Register had also been taken care of - it was not battered or thumbed, and it was so easy to find a grave. It nestled securely in the crypt inside a small shelter. I was able to take some photographs of the cemetery and the graves in which I was interested and I have them at home.
In 1985 I visited Canberra. I had a son whose career was with the Navy, stationed there with his wife and family. It was only natural I would want to see the War Museum and he exhorted me to see the exhibition depicting the South east Asia Theatre of War. I took my two small grandchildren along and deposited them in a room where they could see children's movies, whilst I had a "look see". I was incredulous because the first thing I saw was a scene in depth of the very country over which we were fighting during the war.
It was the finest exhibition I have ever seen, and so realistic: I swear that some of the trees displayed were the trees my men and I used to hide behind. In addition, there was a feature which was absolutely devoid of any vegetation whatever. I had in mind a feature we used to call "million dollar hill" because it was reputed that the Yanks bombarded it unmercifully because of the Jap positions reported in occupation. It was discovered later that there wasn't, and hadn't, been a Jap on it, and it was all for naught!
I was so excited at seeing all this that I rushed to where the kids were, gathered them up and showed them where Pa had "won the war". They just grinned and asked me a lot of questions that I found hard to answer. One or two of them I seem to remember. Were you frightened, Pa?" "How many Japs did you kill, Pa?"

SUPPLEMENT 6
"WILL WE EVER UNDERSTAND THE JAPANESE" [1 October, 1945]

Somewhere in a Military Training Manual, is a subject entitled "Know your enemy". It presents some very helpful information on the Japanese in particular, but from recent observations on my part, I am of the opinion that one could never know the "Sons of Heaven". They are about as understandable as a woman's moods. After the capitulation, one of the jobs for which our Unit was responsible, was to search and embark prisoners of war, for escort to the POW Cage at TORAKINA, South Bougainville. It was on such an occasion I had the opportunity of seeing another side of the strange traits that is seemingly inherent in these peoples' characters. One which is not mentioned in the good book and one which no previous experience of mine with them had encountered.

My first view of their stronghold, where my party was detailed to Operate, was on rounding the tip of the BONIS PENINSULA. There, lying before us, and sprawling away to the north west, was the once highly fortified Jap bastion of BUKA [pronounced "Booka" by the natives], which island, at the time of the surrender, was in the indisputable control of the enemy. Mountainous and jungle clad, except for flat strips of thickly wooded terrain bordering the shore, it looked a formidable obstacle, and one which could have meant the lives of hundreds of our boys, before it was subdued.

Separating the BONIS PEN. from BUKA, is the BUKA PASSAGE - or Straights - a narrow but deep channel which is a veritable mill-race, its current sweeping everything before it. And, sitting astride the western entrance to the Passage, as a sentinel guarding the Straits, is the beautiful little island of SOHANA, a mere atoll which was the one-time residence of the District Officer, later to become a Japanese hideout for their big guns. It was from here the enemy is reputed to have shelled out positions during the closing stages of the war.

At some time or other, we had dreamed of seeing all this, but only at the cost of a long and arduous campaign up the BONIS PENINSULA. Little did we realise then the sudden capitulation shortly to follow, and, seeing this - our one time objective in the circumstances I have already related, or about to relate.

As our barge slowly overcame the current and nosed its way cautiously to the landing a sunken barge with a covering of planks we were greeted by a saluting, bowing and smiling Japanese officer and a Sergeant Major. At a sharp command from the officer, two Nipponese, who had hitherto been standing at attention in the background, their hands cupped in salute, sprang smartly into action and eagerly grasped the ropes tossed them from the barge, and proceeded to moor our craft. The Sergeant Major, who was a swarthy, walrus moustached individual of the whaler type, was the only one among them who could speak any sort of English. His vocabulary was limited to a few words only, but he gave us to understand that everything was set ready and waiting for us. It was.

A short way up the coral pathway leading away from the landing, the Japanese were lined up in three ranks, their entire belongings laid out in neat orderly rows before their feet. I felt like General Blamey as I walked down each column, with the Japs coming smartly to attention, saluting and bowing stiffly, their inscrutable oriental faces betraying no indication of their thoughts. Our search revealed nothing in the nature of that which we sought. There were no arms, knives or anything not classed as personal belongings. Apparently they had discreetly disposed of them previously. I never knew that so much class distinction could exist in any nations' fighting men. On the left of the ranks were the regulars or "better class". They had the best of everything in clothes and equipment, especially the officers. In their kit were perhaps half a dozen pairs of spotlessly white, and neatly laundered, pants, and a similar number of shirts. In addition, winter and summer uniforms, gloves in fact, everything but the kitchen sink. [Never say the Australian soldier carries the load of a donkey.] Adorning their pockets, in some cases, were a half a dozen fountain pens, and both officers and men alike, carried huge wads of notes of all denominations. Yet, in direct contrast, those on the right and at the tail-end of the columns, had nothing - absolutely nothing. Apparently, these were the "scum" so far as the better outfitted Japs were concerned. The very clothes in which they stood were in tatters, and just hanging together by patch on patch. Their footwear was of many diverse types sandals made from old motor tyres or tubes, or made of wood or canvas and held to the feet by string or cord. Pathetic little bundles of junk lay at their feet and, after the inspection, were wrapped in a piece of old tattered and dirty blanket or hessian, and tied with a piece of grass.

The sick, some of whom could scarcely stand, stood in line at the extreme end of the ranks. I was amazed at their hardiness and stamina in not collapsing in the heat of the noon-day sun. All of the prisoners appeared well fed, but the sick were obviously suffering from malnutrition. This was not to be wondered at when I learned that the sick were the Japs least concern. Had the Japanese had their own way, the sick would have been the last to have moved out, if at all. In the early stages of the surrender negotiations, we evacuated a dozen living skeletons to our own hospital for treatment. Although the Japs had plenty of time subsequent to this, never once did they enquire as to the welfare of their sick men. It's really amazing that the Japs did not have more sick, and death must have taken a great toll of their lives for their encampments were simply pigsties to say the least, and smelled horribly of decaying food and other unpleasant matter. They had absolutely no idea of hygiene and sanitation, or, if they did, they never practiced it. In their belongings some of them had a tin of fish of which they had consumed part. Instead of opening a tin between, say three of them, each individual opened his own and after eating what he wanted left the remainder in the tin for another occasion, despite the heat and the flies affecting it. The medical officer had never heard of the new wonder sulpha drugs or penicillin.
Whilst the prisoners were being searched, I made a point of studying them. I could sum them up in a dozen words, all amounting to about the same thing bland, obsequious, servile, docile, cooperative and indifferent. After the inspection was over, an Australian officer with me at the time was sitting in a chair awaiting the return of his barge, when I saw a Nip stooping at his feet. I was amazed to learn that the Jap had bent down and plucked a burr from the officer's trousers.

What can we do to make these creatures atone for the bestial atrocities inflicted by their own kind, and perhaps by themselves, on our own and Allied peoples servicemen, servicewomen and civilians alike? So far as this theatre of operations is concerned, they are doing obedient and willingly the very things which, had our positions been reversed, we would have been forced to do at the point of their bayonets. Their docility is amazing and they are carrying out judiciously the terms of the surrender to the letter, and in a manner which we could never have possibly dared hope.

Had they shown arrogance or procrastination, one would have had the pleasure of slapping their faces, or using a little bit of "persuasive" force on them. Not they. Officers and men alike meticulously saluted our Privates at every opportunity and registered no offence at our boys not returning the compliments - which were the orders given to our men. When the Japanese were detailed by their officers to do some job, such as loading water onto the waiting barges, they moved at the double and ran back for more, sweating and panting in the heat of the day. But perhaps all this was just as well. One little incident may have ignited a powder magazine and one Australian life is worth a million Japs. I watched them embarking, quietly and without fuss, on the barges which were to bear them away from the place which had been for so long their home. I tried to read their thoughts, as they sat, row on row, on the floor of the barge; but their expressions were immobile and registered a stolid indifference. As the barges slipped their moorings and quickly moved downstream, the officers stood at attention and gravely saluted us. What were all their thoughts? Perhaps, when they moved downstream a bit, their glances may have wandered to the bomb scarred shore and their derelict barges lying rusting, rotting and useless on the beach or below the water, as a result of Allied bombing. This mute testimony of disaster may have provided them with some food for thought of the death and destruction which they had heaped upon themselves, and a forerunner of things to come. Did they realise their rising sun had set?

Its amazing how they held out for so long. They were woefully short of food, and the best that could be said of everything they possessed is that it was absolute junk, primitive and antiquated, with the possible exception of some of their weapons and their officers clothes. Not long after I had returned to our base, one of our officers told me of his experiences in exhuming the bodies of our dead from the battlefield. Formerly, the Japanese had buried our boys in shallow graves and left them without identifications. According to the Japanese guides accompanying this officer, they received orders at the capitulation to mark these graves. These orders were issued by the Japs themselves. They did so by erecting a token grave at some distance from the soldiers remains, and adorned the grave with a cross and a small tin of flowers. Asked why the grave was not placed over the body, the reply was "You no understand". Apparently it was some ritual on their part which we wouldn't be able to understand. This is perhaps just one of the many things in which their traditions are so steeped. All of them savour of medieval feudalism, primeval times, or something from another world. They are a strange people to say the least.