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Australia

Mowbray Shipp’s War Memories

R.J. Last

March 2009

Soon after reaching the age of eighteen years I presented myself at the RAAF recruiting depot at Wooloomooloo hoping to be accepted for Air Crew.  A degree of colour blindness dashed such hopes.

A notice board listed telephone operators as being urgently required.  As I had experience in that field I completed the required documents for enlistment.  Silly boy!!

Back to work at Thirroul Locomotive Depot I went awaiting my ‘call up’.  I remember telling the bosses of my pending enlistment in the RAAF.  One person, whose name I don’t remember but whom I shall never forget or forgive made the remark, “thank God we’ve got a Navy”.

In due course of time I received notice to present myself at Wooloomooloo at an early hour on 27th March 1941 – can’t remember the time – for enlistment in the RAAF for the duration of the war and 12 months thereafter. From this time on my finances took a great leap upwards, 5 shillings a day. 35 shillings a week all to myself.  I was rich !!  Prior to enlistment I was earning 30 shillings a week and paying 22 shillings and 6 pence a week board. All food and clothing was supplied. Such wealth was beyond my comprehension!! As time went by I earned additional pay.

After much “hanging about” for most of the day and amongst other things, being quizzed by police to see if one had a criminal record.  At about 4.30 p.m. some thirty of us were herded (and I mean that literally) onto trucks and taken to Central Station.  Nobody had told us where we were going but just before boarding the train at about 7.00p.m. we were told our destination was Parkes in western NSW.

The very best thing that happened that day was seeing my beautiful girlfriend, Betty on the station platform.  How she found out where I would be I don’t know but there she was.  We were not allowed to ‘break ranks’ to say good-bye but it was just so heartwarming to see Betty there.

At Parkes we 30 odd were to do our initial training (rookies), which lasted about 4 weeks.  We were stabbed with needles for every known ailment.  Uniforms and other kit were issued which included what were referred by all as “Goon Skins”. They were a pair of navy blue overalls. These were your workaday clothing. We were also issued with “Long Johns” and very thick, long woolly singlets. The last two items may have been alright for the South Pole. They went into the bottom of the kit bag and stayed there. You couldn’t get rid of them because every so often a kit inspection would be called. If you didn’t have on display everything you had been issued with you were in big trouble. A good thing was that once you were posted to a squadron most of that kit inspection bumf was eliminated.  After training at Parkes my posting was to Williamtown, north of Newcastle.  Williamtown had only just opened at that stage and was used mainly as an embarkation depot for England.  Because of this, before I left Parkes I was kitted out with gear for English weather.  At Williamtown the powers that be had other ideas for this youngster and attached me to their headquarters ranks.  So I didn’t get to England.

RAAF life at Williamtown was rather mundane.  However it was enlightened a bit when I was sent out to Nelsons Bay to help install radar equipment on the top of Mount Tomaree.  Mt Tomaree is very steep.  The radar equipment comprised units as large as refrigerators.  There were no tracks to the top which made going very hard.  Mt Tomaree was an Army establishment, so we RAAF drew a lot of remarks as being ‘Blue Orchids’ or Çurtins’ Cowboys’. The reason for the army establishment was to protect Port Stephens. The Queen Mary hid in there at times when she was in the roll of troop carrier to England and the Middle East. The army had emplacements of heavy canons  in strategic positions on Mt Tomaree which stands at the entrance to Port Stephens. The radar station was to be a forward warning system to protect Newcastle which was heavily involved in the manufacture of war equipment.     Two other matters stick in my mind about Williamtown.  One is, it was the first time I saw an aircraft crash with the occupants incinerated in the flames.  Charred, shriveled bodies.  This is how it happened.  Two flights of Wirraway aircraft from 4 Squadron were attached to Williamtown to provide realistic low level mock straffing air raids on the aerodrome.  And very realistic they were.  At that early stage of the war it was rather easy to get a ride in a Wirraway when they did low level bombing practice.  I did it myself.  On this particular day a Wirraway piloted by Dizzy Davis – I still remember his name – took with him for the flight a young chap, I can’t remember his name but he had not long been married.  He was the unit pay clerk.  Dizzy Davis had a reputation as a dare devil pilot.  On his return from a bombing practice he proceeded to low level ‘beat up’ the drome.  On his fatal run he side slipped his turn, came in too low and hit the ground.  The Wirraway immediately burst into flames incinerating the two occupants.  Those of us nearby raced towards the wreck but there was nothing we could do.  I’ll never forget the look of those two burning bodies. 

The second thing that sticks in my mind from Williamtown occurred not long after 7th December 1941, when America entered the war.  Williamtown was inundated with Americans – the United States Air Force (USAF).  They came in all sorts of transport but what I remember most is the Kittyhawk aircraft.  They flew in squadrons of them.  There were a number of crash landings but none fatal.

Another thing I remember about Williamtown, which was very nice, is a dance that was organized.  I can’t remember the reason for the dance.  I was so pleased that my lovely girl friend, Betty came.  After all that was no mean feat in those days.  Travel for civilians was very restricted, as was accommodation.  Betty wangled her way up to Newcastle by train.  A bus brought her, and others, out to Williamstown then after the dance returned to Newcastle where Betty had a room booked at the Great Northern Hotel.  Next day she wangled her way back to Sydney.  What an amazing girl!!

Early in 1942 I was posted to 5th Squadron, which was supposed to be at Point Cook in Victoria.  After nearly a week on and off trains from Newcastle to Melbourne I arrived at Point Cook only to be told that 5 Squadron had moved to Toowomba in Queensland.  So, back on trains again for days on end to join 5 Squadron which was an army co-operation squadron flying Wirraways.  Toowomba was my initiation to living in a tent and continued to be so for most of the rest of my service.  Played football for the 5 squadron team against army units.  (See photo attached).

After about six weeks at Toowomba 5 Squadron moved to Narrabri in NSW to join in maneuvers with the army.  Following the maneuvers I was given embarkation leave and posted to Bradfield Park embarkation depot (a suburb on the north side of Sydney Harbour).  Betty was working in Sydney so we saw quite a bit of each other before I was on my way again.  In that time we became engaged.

Can’t remember the date but guess it was by now early May 1942.  Army, Navy and RAAF personnel were loaded onto a troop train at Central Station.  To say it was overcrowded would be a gross understatement.  We were bound for Townsville, Queensland.  What a nightmare trip.  No sleeping arrangements.  The floor was the best spot but you ran the risk of a boot treading on your face or elsewhere.  Eating was a haphazard affair.  Army cookhouses were established at desolate places along the line.  The train would stop, followed by much shouting of orders and ribald replies.  We disembarked and formed great long lines to get food and eat it, then back on the train and on or way again.  At Brisbane we changed trains because of the difference in train tracks.  If one thought the trip from Sydney to Brisbane was uncomfortable, the ride from Brisbane to Townsville was a feat of endurance.  Same arrangements for food as before.  The train toilets no longer worked.  The whole trip took about six days.  While changing trains at Brisbane we ate a meal at an army camp.  It was there I ran into Cecil Turner.  He was in the army and also on the move.  He lived a short distance from us at Berry.

We camped at Garbutt, about 10 km from Townsville for about a week, in tents, sleeping on the ground.  Then we were herded – no other word for it – onto trucks and driven to Townsville wharves where we boarded the troopship ‘Duntroon’ bound for Port Moresby.  Waiting, waiting, waiting to board I saw Betty’s cousin ,Eric Loomes going up the gangplank. He was a sergeant in the army.I didn’t get a chance to speak to him and I didn’t see him again until well after the war had ended when I mentioned it to him. Sleeping was rather claustrophobic.  Down the hold of the ship canvas bunks were installed, six above one another with about 60 cm in between.  Hundreds of them throughout the ship’s holds.  Officers had cabins.  Food was good and served in ship’s dining rooms.

We arrived in Port Moresby late afternoon of , not sure of the date, and disembarked amid great turmoil.  Army yelling orders to their men.  Navy doing the same for their sailors with RAAF following suit.  Marched to some open ground below ANGAU headquarters.  No tents or facilities – general fiasco.  That very night was my initiation into heavy air raids.  Apparently the Japanese knew of the Duntroon’s arrival leaving troops in confused mobs scattered about the harbour area.  It was very scary not being sure what to do, but after a while you became a bit blaze about it.  More dutch courage than anything else.  Next day I was gathered in with about a dozen other RAAF and taken to our unit of posting which was no 10 Wireless Unit.  Also we were billeted in the old Papua Police Barracks.  A few days later I met a chap I went to school with at Berry and Nowra.  His name was Noel Henry.  He was in an anti aircraft (ACK ACK) militia unit located on a steep hill at the back of Port Moresby.  We didn’t have our own Mess at that stage, so we messed with the militia unit.  They had dubbed themselves ‘Moresby Mice’.  A big Moresby Mice sign was hung near the Mess. This was a mimic of the “Rats of Tobruk”.

No 10 Wireless Unit supplied posting to various small attachments.  With 3 other chaps I was sent to operate at Wards Strip which was a bomber and fighter strip about 5 miles out of Moresby.  We were attached to 42 Operational Base Unit and later to 30 Squadron.  Our camp site was in June Valley, about a mile from the end of theStrip where 30 squadron aircraft and maintenance facilities were located.   30 Squadron flew Beaufighter aircraft, The Beaufighter was a very quiet aeroplane giving little warning of its approach. You wouldn’t hear it until it was almost on top of you. That’s why it was dubbed “Whispering Death” Squadron (22nd Squadron) also was in June Valley, operating from Wards flying Bostons.  There was great rivalry between the two squadrons.

Our Signals hut was in a small valley just off the strip.  A short time later an American Vulte Vengeance squadron moved in and set up camp.  After a few weeks they just moved out leaving all their equipment, including an Indian motor bike, which we of the Sigs unit ácquired’.  We used the motor bike to travel between the Sigs hut and camp in June Valley.  The chap going on shift rode the bike to Sig hut, the chap going off rode it back to camp.  If you had some spare time off, the bike was handy to go visiting.  Petrol was no problem, as there was a fuel dump nearby.

Continual air raids were a nuisance. Beside your tent you dug a Slit Trench deep enough and long enough to hold the four tent occupants. One night three of us dived into the trench, the fourth chap, Lofty, had boiled up the billy for a “cuppa”. He dived into the trench with the billy of scalding tea which went all over we three occupants. We gave him hell for not bringing the mugs and sugar with him.  The Coast Watchers would radio a warning that Jap aircraft had left Lae, or elsewhere,  heading for Moresby.  This was relayed to the Signal hut where the operator had to ring the many RAAF units attached to the strip for their operator to sound the air raid warning.  The signals you gave each unit were usually :-

1.    Air Raid Yellow – meaning 20 minutes warning

2.    Air Raid Red    - meaning an air raid was definite – 5 minutes warning.  This could happen a number of times a day or night.  The operator had to stay by his station above ground while most others were in slit trenches.

3.    Air Raid Green  - meaning all clear.  The high level raids weren’t much problem; the low level strafing was scary.

Must tell you of an interesting event at Wards strip.  With my mate, Noel Clark,a Victorian, I was down at the strip watching the aircraft.  This American Flying Fortress came trundling along.  Being smart alecs we gave it the ‘hitch a lift’ with our thumbs.  Low and behold the darn thing stopped, lowered the entrance/exit hatch to show a Yank beckoning us over.  Over we went and were invited aboard.  Great we thought we are off on a mission.  How wrong we were.  For about an hour we flew in circles doing ‘circuits and bumps’ i.e. take offs and landings.  Quite boring after the first few circuits.  We weren’t feeling quite so smart when told that the pilot had previously flown single engined aircraft and was being trained to fly multi engined aircraft.  Flying Fortresses had 4 engines.  It explained why some of the landings were quite bumpy!!  A bonus was that each time we circled over the harbor we had a good view of the ship Macdhui lying on its side in shallow water.The Macdhui had been sunk by the Japs in early to mid June 1942  after sustaining heavy bombing on two consecutive days.  Thirteen men were killed and quite a few injured.. The loss of the Macdhui was a serious blow as it was loaded with much needed equipment and ammunition.

I had a bout in an army hospital while at Wards.  I had bacillary dysentery. The hospital was a collection of large tents. About this time I was sent to Waigani Strip attached to 4 Squadron  They were then flying Wirraways and Boomerang aircraft as army support.  Only stayed there for about 2 weeks when I was recalled to Wards.

Mail was always eagerly anticipated, especially Betty’s letters.  They were read and re-read and treasured until next mail turned up.  I had a very nice photo of Betty with me while I was away.

About August 1942 the battles on the Kokoda Track were in progress.  The Japanese had landed large invasion forces at Lae and Salamaua with the idea of pushing overland and capturing Port Moresby.  The Japanese also had a large naval force in the Coral Sea with the intention of attaching Port Moresby, so splitting forces that could face the overland offensive.  Whilst I was not on the Kokoda Track we gave help keeping ammunition and arms flowing.  At the worst stage the Japs were within 30 miles of Moresby.  With Wards Strip further out of Moresby, we were only about 25 miles from the action and right in the path of further Jap advances.  Had the Japs reached their objective we’d have been in dire straits; either dead or prisoners of war.  At this stage army instructors set about teaching us unarmed combat, bayonet fighting and firearms.  I was taught to use a Bren gun and mills bombs (hand grenades).  Another chap was with me on the Bren gun.  His job was to keep the ammunition coming.  I firmly believe that it should be compulsory to read about the Kokoda Track battles to realize just what a close thing it was for Australia.

Where were our aircraft you may ask?  Kokoda Track is just what it says – a track – through dense jungle.  Aircraft wouldn’t know friend from foe.  The same reason the Jap aircraft were not operating.  However at this time 30 Squadron Beaufighters and 22 Squadron Bostons were busy attacking Jap installations at Lae, Salamaua, Buna and Gona to minimize supplies the Japs could send up the Track to their forward troops. In the end it was lack of supplies and ammunition that forced the Japs to halt. They had expected to capture Moresby in 10 days. Although the Australians were out numbered 6 to 1 they fought tenaciously to delay the Japs for long months.  The Japs were starving and short of ammunition. The Japs didn’t have a word in their language for retreat so the order they were given was “advance to the rear” They were pushed right back to Buna and Gona where the Australians engaged them again in very heavy fighting.

Forward now to March 1943 and the Battle of the Bismarck Sea in which 30th Squadron was very much involved.  This was a very decisive battle and should be more widely publicized.  The destruction of the Jap ships carrying reinforcements to Lae, Salamaua, certainly saved the lives of untold numbers of Australian and American troops.  The problem is the Americans participated in far greater numbers and claim it as an American victory.  To read their version of events you wouldn’t know Australians were involved even though it was the Australians who had the very dangerous job of knocking out the escorting destroyers by attacking the bridges of those ships and then going in to attack the troop carriers’ bridges.  By destroying the ships’ bridges it left them easier targets for bombing by the American Mitchell bombers.They used the skip bomb technique to attack the Japanese ships.  The success of the Bismarck Sea battle meant that reinforcements didn’t reach their destination, thus reinforcements and supplies of food and ammunition did not reach Lae.  This meant the Japs’ air strikes against Moresby became fewer and dwindled but in April, 1943 I was on watch when I received the warning of a raid and put out to units an immediate Red Alert.  It was the Japs largest raid and in daylight.  There were 105 planes, 45 bombers and 60 fighters.  One formation appeared to single out 30 Squadron area of the strip.  When inspected after the raid the Japs daisy-cutter bombs had sheared off all the saplings, shrubs and kunai grass about 40 cm above ground level.  It was as if the whole area was going up in smoke, flame and noise.  Five of the Beaufighters were severely damaged.  After that there were very few raids.

Time just seemed to drag on.  The main action had moved to the other side of Papua New Guinea.  We just went about our business of keeping communications running.  Early in March 1944 a bod, came to me and said “çan you be ready to go home in half an hour” to which I replied “what do you want me to do with the other 29 minutes?”  I was taken into Port Moresby and put aboard an American Martin Mariner flying boat.  Somehow I’d let Betty know I was on my way home.  I now know she commenced wedding arrangements.  But!! On the flying boat we hadn’t reached the point of no return when an engine cowling cover blew off and sheared off part of the double tail assembly.  We went down to a little above sea level, in case we had to ‘ditch’ and limped back to Port Moresby.  At this stage I was on no unit strength but 10 Wireless Unit took me in until some way was found to get me home.  About 18th March the same Martin Mariner was ready to go through to Sydney, landing on the Brisbane River on the way.  At Sydney we landed in the harbour at Rose Bay.  I made my way to RAAF Bradfield Park.  I had only old very well worn shorts and shirt plus clod hopper boots.  At Bradfield Park I asked the equipment section for a blue uniform (when I went away I had to hand in uniforms).  He said “you can’t have a blue uniform until 1st April.”  I said “I’m getting married” to which he replied “bad luck!” There was a WAAF officer there.  I thought she might be a softer touch, so I  told her my tale but she was unmoved.  So, I went to the doctor then and said, “Í’ve just come back from New Guinea and I’m absolutely freezing, I need a blue uniform to keep warm!”  He gave me a chit to draw two jumpers.  I went along to get my two jumpers, khaki uniform and other gear.  Low and behold who do I meet but the flight sergeant in charge.  I’d known him at Williamtown when he was a corporal and I was an ACI.  “What are you doing here” he said.  I told him I was just back from the tropics.  “I want a blue uniform but they won’t give me one”.  I told him I was getting married.  “Come around the back” he said, so around the back we went and he fitted me with a blue uniform, blue shirt, black tie – the works.  I had two chevrons to be sewn on for overseas active service.  I don’t remember who did that.  But I had my blue uniform for our wedding.  At a later stage they ceased issuing chevrons for active service because jealousy arose from people without the qualifying service.  During my absence on active service my leave entitlement had accumulated, so I had quite a bit owing.

Betty had all arrangements made for our wedding.  All I had to do was make myself look presentable.  You must ask Betty to report on our wedding.  To me it was just a continuous whirl of excitement.  I’d become so used to seeing men only every day, so it took a while to get used to people and family living.  It was just so wonderful to be home again with Betty.  She was so beautiful.  I must admit it took awhile to get used to civilian life again.  I arrived in Kiama on Wednesday afternoon and we were married the following Saturday. 

The going on our honeymoon was exciting.  It was 25th March 1944 we married.  After our wedding Betty and I caught a train bound for Sydney Central Station.  The engine driver “cock a doodle dooed” on the engine’s whistle all the way out of Kiama station.  From Central we made our way down to the Hotel Metropole where we spent our first night.  On opening our suitcases confetti erupted and spread over the floor.  Next morning we made a hasty early departure to avoid letting people know we were newly weds.  Back up to Central Station we went to catch a train to Wentworth Falls where we were to spend our honeymoon.  I must stress that Betty was absolutely magnificent, the way she had arranged everything.  She was just so wonderful to be with.  At the Wentworth Falls guest house, because I was in uniform with active service chevrons on the sleeve, other guests knew I’d just come back from New Guinea.  They treated me like royalty.  Betty wasn’t very impressed with Wentworth Falls – all the cliffs and mountains – she loves the ocean.  After 7 or 10 days it was time to return to the real world; me to go to Bradfield Park and Betty to Maroubra to stay with very good friends, the Butler family.  For the short time I was at Bradfield Park I was able to have time with Betty.

All too soon I was posted to Tocumwal, down on the Victorian border.  I hunted around and was able to find accommodation on a ladies verandah.  Betty again wangled herself onto a train and we lived on this verandah for a few weeks.  I was able to get a bit more of my accumulated leave so we decided to go back to Kiama.  On our return to Tocumwal we discovered that the woman had let the verandah to other people – all our gear was still there.  We had to gather our belongings and look elsewhere.  We got a place for two or three nights, a room with 2 single beds pushed together.  This gave us time to look for accommodation.  Our next living space was on another woman’s verandah.  She was a horrible person, but you’d put up with anything so you could be together.  Betty was a real gem through all this.  During the war it was amazing what people would rent out to make money from servicemen.  The servicemen, paid up so they could be with their loved one.

While at Tocumwal I got another of my not quite brilliant ideas.  If you lived in Queensland you got two extra days leave each way travelling time.  So I altered my home address to Queensland, which would get me four extra days when I went on leave in the future.  This idea back fired almost immediately.  Again I was posted for active service overseas.  We had been at Tocumwal for about two months.  For Queenslanders the embarkation depot was Redcliffe in Queensland.  Betty went home to Kiama – but not for long!!  She is the most amazing person.  I phoned Betty when I could.  She said, ”I’m coming up”.  I managed to hire a room at a hotel at Redcliffe and Betty set out on her epic trip.  No way could civilians get a train straight through to Brisbane.  She caught a train to Murwillumbah in northern NSW then a bus to Coolangatta in Queensland and another bus from Coolangatta to Redcliffe.  It was a mammoth thing she did and not quite legal.  I’ve never forgotten her love and loyalty in undertaking it.

Now being a married serviceman I was required to make Serviceman’s Will which I did, naming Betty as my sole beneficiary.  Also I allotted my pay to Betty keeping one shilling a day for myself.  Where I was going you couldn’t spend it any way.

About two weeks later Betty did the trip in reverse.  I was again on a train bound for Townsville.  I remember Rockhampton because the train more or less went up the main street.  Along the railway line were crowds of people cheering and waving, amongst them many American servicemen who threw packets of American cigarettes to Australians hanging out of train windows. 

After a short time at Townsville I boarded the troop ship Kanimbla bound again for Port Moresby.  Only stayed one or two days at Moresby staging camp before being flown to Nadzab in the Markham Valley on the other side of the country, inland not too far from Lae.  I went into Lae a couple of times.  When I got to Nadzab it was just at the end of very, heavy fighting in the Markham Valley.  It was the first time Australian troops were parachuted into action.  By this time we were in Dutch territory.  Our pay if or when collected was calculated in guilders.  I didn’t draw pay, as there was nothing to spend it on.

I didn’t stay at Nadzab for long.  The war was moving on – without the air raids thank goodness.  I was then posted to Biak Island.  There our unit was a wirless listening post monitoring Japanese messages.  Their code had been broken.  At Biak we were attached to an American unit for accommodation and meals, so we lived pretty well.  My stay at Biak was also rather short.  I was posted to 30 squadron at Numfor Island.

There was very little action on Noemfor at this stage as the Japanese had fallen back to Morotai.  Life went on at a very slow pace.  We would spend a lot of time playing cards.

Morotai fell to the allies and 30th Squadron moved in, but not the whole squadron.  They caught up later.  I was among those left at Noemfor, however one day a 30 squadron pilot came to me and said “you’re wanted at Morotai”, so after a quick pack up of my gear I went with him and was flown from Noemfor to Morotai in a Beaufort light bomber.  There were only the two of us aboard.  Beauforts didn’t have a very good reputation.  They were apt to crash for no apparent reason.  Just the opposite to Beaufighters which had a very good safety record.  We reached Morotai without incident, where I met up with a mate, Dick Spence.

At Morotai the most memorable incident for me was landing in hospital with burns.  In our signals tent we used to boil up a cup of tea.  A mate, Andy Thomas, came up with the brilliant idea of turning a coleman pressure lamp into a primus, hey presto a quick cup of tea!!  Trouble was Andy filled the lamp with petrol, lit it and as soon as the petrol got hot the whole thing exploded.  I was in the right place at the wrong time and copped the whole explosion.  The medical orderly pumped morphine into me and arranged my transfer to an army hospital.  Andy was confined to barracks for a week as punishment.  There were no barracks, so he had to stay in the guard’s tent for a week.  My mate Dick Spence wrote to Betty telling her I was in hospital plus the how and why.  I was in hospital for about 10 days.

We had a really brilliant invention I must tell you about.  It was called a ‘choofer’.  When in operation it sounded like a steam train, “choof”,”choof”, “choof”.  It was great for boiling up for a billy of tea or boil your dirty clothes.  To make one you scrounged around for the necessary materials:-

         1 container with about 1 gallon capacity

         1 small tap such as in aircraft petrol lines

         1 piece of copper pipe, about ¼ inch in diameter and 5 feet long

Instructions

1.    Drill a hole in the container and solder in tap.

2.    Bend end of copper pipe to almost right angles, about a foot from one end.

3.    Bend that foot of pipe into a circle and attach other end to the tap.

4.    Drill a series of holes in the circle – facing upwards.

5.    Fill container with high octane aircraft petrol.

6.    Stand back and throw a lighted match onto the petrol leaking from the holes in the circular piece.

Hey presto, you have a ‘choofer’ which you guarded against theft by other tents who didn’t have one.  They were more your enemy than the Japs.  Now that I remember it, I can still hear it “choofing” away like a steam engine puffing uphill.

Another great invention was the six holer thunderbox. Officers had their to own two holer,

Sergeants had a three holer and Other Ranks had a couple of six holers.  This was the latrine also known as the six holer or the thunder box. These latrines were out in the open and you just squatted yourself beside whoever else was there. They served a number of social purposes since their users could pass on news from home or gripe about the crook food or share furfies as to where and when we’d be moving to next. To clean these six holers or thunderboxes great quantities of petrol were poured into the trench and set alight. .  The resulting explosion was like thunder. If you were feeling a bit “short” you just had to wait until things cooled down a bit and the seats or pole could be put back in place.

Showers also were a very communal gathering. Mostly water was from underground.  There would be about 10 or 12 shower roses. Many ribald remarks would be passed regarding certain “appendages” that were there for all the world to see.  Showers were cold but that was no problem, in fact it was a welcome relief.

Life seemed to settle in the doldrums on Morotai.  The Island hopping strategy was moving ahead so quickly.  Late in April 1945 we got the order to move out.  Although we didn’t know it at the time our destination was Tarakan Island just off the coat of Borneo.  We sailed from Morotai on the troopship ‘Westralia’.  D day for the landing was 01.05.1945.  We lost a couple of chaps during the landing, not through enemy action.  The navy had previously heavily bombarded the beach areas we were to head for in landing barges.  The Westralia anchored a fair distance from shore.  Scaling nets were lowered over the side above where landing barges were furiously bobbing up and down on a rough swell.  The trick was to judge your jump from the bottom of the scaling net into the landing barge, as it rose on a swell.  Not a real easy job in full gear and kit.  There were quite a few injuries as well as  drownings.  With full gear and kit you would sink like a stone.  There was heavy shelling going on but it was passing over the beach we landed on.  I remember that as we were marched from the beach towards Tarakan town we came across a Salvation Army set up under a tent fly. The Sallies had tea brewing.  As you passed through they would hand you a mug of tea.  I don’t remember what we did with the mugs.  We may have halted for a while.  The first night on Tarakan we camped in the grounds of a war damaged house.  There was a big water tank by the house but we weren’t allowed to drink until the M.O. (medical officer) had tested the water a few times to see if it was alright to drink – it was.  That same night was the first time I had ever stood guard.  With a mate, we were on guard from midnight to 04.00.  We had to pace about 20 yards around the squadron’s gear, turn and pace back again, passing each other on the way.  Doing this we got this great length of hemp caught in our gaiter buckles.  There was a lot of hemp lying around.  (The previous guard had the same problem we found out later.)  We became tangled and we thought the Japs had us!  For the first couple of weeks the shelling overhead was very noisy.  Shelling at night time meant little sleep.  I can still hear the ‘whoosh’ of shelling.  After a couple of days we moved to our permanent camp site.  Tarakan Island’s oil was so rich and accessible that when pitching your tent, the tent poles would sink into the ground and this thick green oil would ooze up.  You had to get something to stop the tent poles sinking.  For our tent we scrounged 2 x 4 gallon drums and put the tent poles on them.  This raised the tent sides a bit but that wasn’t a bad thing, as it let more cool air through.  (The airstrip on Tarakan was a disaster, the Japs had thoroughly destroyed it.  It didn’t become usable for quite some time.  The army lost a V.C. winner on Tarakan and won one.  Tarakan was virtually an island floating on oil.  I remember being near the main road, inland one day when two of our army tanks came trundling along.  Matildas I think they were, it was an amazing sight.  The road was bitumen and as the tanks progressed they pushed the bitumen road ahead of them like a small wave.  No oil came to the surface, just this ‘wave’ going along ahead of each tank.  There was much heavy fighting on Tarakan but napalm was used extensively.  Liberator bombers would attack known concentrations, but the Japs were well dug in.  Following the Liberators came, Lockhead Lightnings dropping napalm bombs which on hitting the ground erupted into flaming napalm gushing into nooks and crannies.  A shocking way to die or be terribly burnt.  The army also used flame throwers on Tarakan to dislodge the Japs.  At one point the Japs had retreated to an underground hospital.  Very hard to dislodge without incurring many casualties, so napalm was used to eliminate all inside.  I never liked napalm – too cruel, but yet its use settled many difficult situations and, no doubt, saved many allied lives, as did the atom bombs dropped on Jap cities.  At this stage of the war, on Tarakan at least, the Japs seemed to know their end was near so they made all out efforts to kill as many as they thought possible.  A pet practice was to infiltrate a camp site at night with knives strapped to long sticks which they would stab through tent sides in the hope of inflicting wounds to the occupants.  To combat this each person in the tent took turns of two hours each sitting up or circling the tent with rifle at the ready.  Our unit didn’t suffer any casualties but others did.  The war ending stopped all this.

So there I was on Tarakan Island when one day it was announced the war was over, finished.  It was quite unbelievable, very hard to accept.  A large compound was set up with wire mesh about 8 feet high.  We were formed into groups or patrols to bring in Japanese for imprisonment in the compound.  Some would not believe the war was over for them and would not lay down arms.  It was the army’s job to convince them otherwise.  Some sporadic fighting continued.  The Japs in the compound were treated well but some tried suicide rather than go back to Japan and be thought a coward.  Some of the Jap prisoners, for a few cigarettes handed through the wire, would trade you a red and black drawing on white cloth depicting Mt Fujiama.  I got one for Betty.  Reminds me:  I took home a grass skirt for Betty when going home first time.  Being an NCO (corporal) I was put in charge of some airmen to gather and store live ammunition, of which there was plenty scattered about various ammunition dumps.  That filled in some time.  But of course, the main gripe was “when are we going home ?  Sporting gear arrived so we could fill in time playing tennis and cricket. Yes, tennis. Near our camp were two concrete courts.  I guess they were concrete, so they wouldn’t sink into the oil.  A rather sad thing was seeing Tarakanese women loaded up with bedding and whatever else they could carry trying to get back to their previous homes, or what was left of them.  Their menfolk had been taken away by the Japanese prior to our invasion for forced labour in Borneo (see photo attached).  Most of the Japs were repatriated before we were.  The reason for our delay was that repatriating our own prisoners of war had first priority and rightly so.  They had been through hell.  Come November 1945 we were told to prepare for evacuation.  We left Tarakan on a Saturday.  I can remember that because a lot of our airmen were keen horse race goers and that Saturday was the day of the Caufield Cup.  A big sweep was run.  At that stage we had short wave radios we could listen to, per kind favour of the Australian Comforts Fund.  Same people who sent tennis racquets and balls, also cricket gear.  I should tell you that when we played tennis on the concrete courts we wore our hobnailed boots.  Same with cricket.  We didn’t have any other footwear except socks.  What a let down was our ship.  It was a little old rust bucket called ‘River Murrumbidgee’ and that’s about all it should have sailed on.  We were told the ship would take 2 ½ days to reach Morotai where we were to transfer to the troopship Kanimbla for our journey home.  As the River Murrumbidgee sailed in to Morotai we met the Kanimbla sailing out.  The powers that be arranged for us to disembark from the River Murrumbidgee and proceed to a staging camp. 

With the war ended it was a matter of filling in time.. Each night there was a two-up game. A mate, Neville Ghett and myself would go along to play his system. That was to win two pounds then come back to camp..     Neville’s system was to always back the same as the previous spin. We’d start off betting 10 shillings. Neville’s wisdom said that a run of heads or tails was a certainty.  Where did our betting money come from ? At that stage you got an issue of two bottles of beer a week, The Yanks would pay  6 guilders [about 20 shillings] a bottle. So we had our gamgling funds. We did pretty well at two-up.

After a week to 10 days we received orders to prepare for our trip home.  Our hearts fell to the bottom of our hobnail boots when we saw our transport.  It was the River Murrumbidgee .  The week to 10 days had been spent erecting canvas shelters on the deck. Making up galvanized ‘u’ shaped sluices and fitting them so one end was about 6 feet on deck and about 4 feet extending out from the ship’s side.  That was our toilet facility.  At some point of our return journey the canvas shelters were blown away.  More canvas was supplied and we just did the best we could.  As you may gather it wasn’t a very pleasant trip home.

It was the end of November when we finally sailed into Sydney Harbour.  What a wonderful feeling that was.  We docked on the western side of the Harbour Bridge.  Prior to disembarking we were told to report to Bradfield Park in two days time.  Somehow Betty knew I was home.  I may have phoned her from somewhere.  We arranged to meet under the clock on Central Station concourse.  Betty was standing by the trains destination board looking straight at me but didn’t recognize me.  I was still in my smelly khaki shirt and shorts, hobnail boots and slouch hat, plus I had grown a great moustache.  I walked over to Betty and she got the shock of her life.  I was so glad to see her.  If I thought how amazing Betty was before she now excelled herself.  She had arranged accommodation for us in a house at Richmount Street, Cronulla.  I don’t remember how long we stayed there but when my 2 days was up I reported to Bradfield Park.  There I went through a number of discharge procedures including medical and dental checks.  At the dental check the female clerk took my papers, saw my name and said “do you know Mully Shipp?”  She was rather surprised when I said ‘that’s me!”  She was one of the Carson family from Kiama.

I was told to report next day to the Discharge center at Sydney showground for final discharge from the RAAF.  After much paper work and shuffling from one desk to another, I was ready to leave the RAAF.  On discharge you were given

1.    30 pounds ($60) to buy a suit

2.    All your accumulated pay in cash plus, in cash your deferred pay.

Deferred Pay:  Whilst on overseas active service you were entitled to an extra one shilling and six pence a day deferred pay.  You could only receive it on discharge.

As I hadn’t drawn any pay over such long periods, that, plus my deferred pay, amounted to well over 800 pounds ($1,600).  Quite a lot of money in those days.  We were warned to be very careful on leaving the Show Ground and advised to leave in groups if possible.  Several dischargees had been bashed and robbed of their cash. I was also carrying a goodly amount from my two-up winnings and beer sales.

So, I was a civilian again.  I can’t remember how long we stayed at Cronulla.  It was quite hard for a while to come to terms with civilian life and at times I may, probably was, have been difficult but Betty was my mainstay and I thank God for giving me such a loving and loyal wife.

Betty had received a badge with one star on it denoting that she had a husband on active service. My mother received a badge with three stars denoting she had three sons on active service.

Here endeth my story of my miniscule part of World War 2.

These memories were recorded by Rosemary Last and edited by Mowbray Shipp on March 2009