htg05 Beaufighters

BEAUFIGHTERS
OVER
NEW GUINEA
Other titles in this series:
Secret Action of 305

Smith & Coghlan
Winner of the 1988 Heritage Award
The RAAF Mirage Story

Compiled by Wing Commander M.R. Susans
Alfresco Flight — The RAAF Antarctic Experience

David Wilson
Edge of Centre—The eventful life of Group Captain Gerald Packer

Chris Coulthard-Clark
BEAUFIGHTERS
OVER
NEW GUINEA
No. 30 Squadron RAAF 1942-1943
GEORGE TURNBULL DICK
Royal Australian Air Force Museum

An occasional series Number 5
First published in 1993 by
Royal Australian Air Force Museum
RAAF Base
Point Cook, Vic, 3029, Australia
Copyright © Royal Australian Air Force Museum
Production by Sylvana Scannapiego, Island Graphics

Cover and text design by David Constable
Typeset in 12/13pt Sabon by Solo Typesetting, South Australia
Printed in Australia by Impact Printing, Melbourne
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be

reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the
publisher.
Cataloguing-in-publication information
Dick, George, 1921-
Beaufighters over New Guinea.
ISBN 0 642 18836 X
1. Australia. Royal Australian Air Force, Squadron, 30.
2. World War, 1939-1945 —Papua New Guinea —Aerial
operations, Australian. I. Royal Australian Air Force
Museum. II. Title
940.544994
CONTENTS
Preface vii
Acknowledgements x
1 Fashioning a Superb Weapons Platform 1
2 Work-Up to a War Footing 7
3 Early Days at Ward's Strip 21
4 Tree-Topping Wave-Hopping Warplanes 38
5 Bully Beef & Dog Biscuits 53
6 Life at the June Valley Camp 72
7 Moresby Attacked by 100 Aircraft 91
8 Rain, Rain, Rain 113
9 Operations from Vivigani Strip 127
10 Christmas at Kiriwina 149
Nominal Roll 169
Bibliography 173
PREFACE
W HEN office-bearers of No. 30 Beaufighter Association

discovered that I was a writer who took a deep interest
in Australian history, they invited me to compile a short
history of the squadron in which I had served during the
Second World War. It was assumed that adequate source
material would be available in the archives of Government
departments in Canberra. However, I found that very few
official documents have survived the clearing-out campaigns
since war's end.
The present work is built around three surviving sets of
records — the Unit History Sheets, the Operations Record
Book and Personnel Occurrence Reports. But the meagre
entries therein needed to be expanded, explained and extended
by other material if the account were to be made at all
interesting. Accordingly, additional information was sought
from ex-members of the unit, and resulted in an astonishing
response.
Where practicable, the recollections of those who had
served in the Beaufighter unit were recorded on tape, some
sessions lasting for more than four hours. Other ex-members
sent me their written reminiscences—some long, some short,
but all providing interesting material about events and about
their fellow-men.
Vll
So much material was amassed that a difficult decision
about treatment became imperative. If the limit of 55,000
words were to be observed and the book dealt with Squadron
affairs from its formation to its disbandment, many of the
interesting details and sidelights would have to be omitted for
reasons of space. Alternatively, if the the book were to cover a
shorter time-span, it would allow the development of some of
the more interesting aspects. After consultation, it was decided
to adopt the latter course and limit the coverage of the present
work to the period March 1942 to December 1943. A follow-
on publication may eventuate.
A writer cannot make history; he can but reflect it. It is
people who are the stuff of history and any account of the
past ought to deal with the actions of individuals rather than
present a mere calendar of events. Although the operational
activities of the aircrew form the thread of this present
account, the opportunity is taken to tell something about that
group of men who have been so often ignored in so many unit
histories — the groundstaff.
It is possible that there will be disputes about some of the
incidental material, and some readers may contend that a
particular event did not take place in the way it is presented.
This may be due to the author's ineptitude in the use of
descriptive prose. Yet it ought to be remembered that not
everyone witnessing the same incident sees and interprets it in
the same way as his neighbours. More to the point, only a few
are blessed with a totally accurate recall of events which
happened 50 years ago.
So that this work might be more readable, I have adopted
an informal writing style: unless the context demanded it, I
have avoided the use of Air Force ranks. I hope that readers
will not be offended by my use of their diminutive Christian
names.
While undertaking the research for this book I met and
made new friends of ex-members of No. 30 Beaufighter
Squadron and enjoyed their company. I was also delighted to
renew the acquaintance of others who served in the Squadron
at the same time as I did.
Vlll
This Preface can but express gratitude for the opportunity
to record something about what it was like to serve in an
operational squadron of a Royal Australian Air Force squadron
in the tropics.
George Turnbull Dick

Glenbrook
January 1993
IX
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I AM deeply indebted to the many people who so willingly

provided such a wealth of material — factual and otherwise—
and who contributed to my collection of nearly 900 photo-
graphs. I express my gratitude to: Terry Allen, Fred Anderson,
Don Angus, Joe Arthur, Mal Baker, Maurice Ball, Dave
Beasley, Bob Bennett, Ted Bicknell, Jim Blair, Roy Bockman,
Les Braund, Harry Bridger, Ray Brittain, Alec Burgoyne,
George Carnegie, John Carroll, Fred Cassidy, Fred Catt, Jack
Chambelrain, Ivor Church, Cress Clarke, Cliff Clohesy, John
Collins, Fred Cox, Laurie Crouch, Gwynn Davies, Tony
Davey, Ken Delbridge, Frank Denner, Ron Dorman, John
Dunstan, George Dusting, Laurie Edmonds, Joe Erskine, John
Farquhar, Reg Fay, Owen Fenwick, Arthur Ferrier, Ron
Catcum, Keith Geary, Bob Gibson, Ken Golledge, Joe Green,
Colin Harvey, Jeff Heath, Chas Harris, Len Hastwell, Eric
Hughes, Arthur Jaggs, Alec Jenkins, Don Joyes, 'Skip' Kaye,
Harold Kelly, Brian Klar, Alan Laing, Alan D. Laing, Bill
Larsen, Ted Lasscock, John Laverty, Ken Leonard, Eric Lusk,
Bill Maddigan, Elton Marsden, Fred Marriott, Bill Marsh,
John Mason, Cliff Maxwell, Jeff Mierisch, Don Miller, Ian
Mitchell, Tom Mitchell, Colin Morgan, Ron Morrison,
Ralph Nelson, Keith Nicholson, Charles Oakley, Harold
O'Connor, Charlie Park, Bert Parker, Ted Pullman, Ron
X
Radonic, Doug Raffen, Les Rawlinson, Bren Reade, Norman
Reeve, Bruce Robertson, George Robertson, Jack Sandford,
Frank Sawtell, Mowbray Shipp, Rex Sims, Frank Simpson,
Harry Suthons, Harry Tayler, Jack Thorne, Bruce Tiller,
Brian Walker, Don West, Jim Wilson and Dick Woodgate.
Very special mention must be made of those who kindly
allowed me to read their personal diaries — Don Angus,
Laurie Crouch, George Dusting, Keith Nicholson, Frank
Sawtell and Harry Tayler. Their contemporary records were
invaluable sources, shedding much light on the various events,
circumstances and individuals.
I thank, too, Bob Piper of the Air Historical Section, Ian
Affleck of the Australian War Memorial, Myles Harper of
Frankston, staffs of the Royal Australian Air Force Museum,
the Discharged Personnel Records section, the National Library
of Australia and the National Archives.
Finally, I must thank my wife, Beryl, for the patience she
exercised while I was engrossed in the research and writing
phases and for acting as editor and lynx-eyed proofreader.
XI
CHAPTER ONE
Fashioning a Superb
Weapons Platform
T HE outstanding fact about the Bristol Beaufighter is that

this aircraft was by far the most heavily armed fighter in
operational service with the Royal Air Force from the early
months of the Second Word War until the 1950s — when
airborne missiles were introduced.
The aviation world accorded the Beaufighter special re-
cognition and respect because:
• It was the airborne pioneer of Britain's nightfighter defence.
• It provided Coastal Command with a highly successful
strike weapon in maritime operations.
• It gave RAF commands overseas a lethal low level instru-
ment of destruction.
• It demonstrated its versatility when it was employed in
roles never envisaged by the initial designers.
The Munich crisis spurred the Air Ministry staffs and
aircraft designers into feverish activity and in October 1938
the Bristol Aeroplane Company at Filton in Gloucestershire
made an extremely interesting proposal. At that time the
company was tailoring off its production of the Blenheim IV
aircraft and was starting the production line of the Beaufort
bomber. Bristol designer Leslie Frise asserted that he could
equip the Royal Air Force with long range fighters of decisive
1
striking power in double quick time by using many parts of
the Beaufort.
Initially referred to as the Beaufort Fighter, the name
Beaufighter was allotted to the aircraft design on 2 June 1939
but in time the aircraft was simply referred to as the Beau.
Contrary to the French connotation of that nickname, the
aircraft's lines were by no means beautiful or aesthetically
pleasing. Rather, they conveyed a strong relationship to snub-
nosed pugnacity and sheer brute force. It was indeed a pure
fighting machine whose strength lay not only in the awesome
weight and variety of armament it could bring to bear on the
enemy, but in its ability to absorb tremendous physical
punishment yet still touch down with a live crew aboard. A
bare two months before Britain declared war on Germany, the
Air Ministry issued Specification F17/39 and just two weeks
after that document was issued, Bristol's chief test pilot, Cyril
Uwins, took the first Beaufighter prototype on its test flight.
His report about that flight on 17 July 1939 showed that the
aircraft was blessedly free of major defects but his comment
about its tendency to swing on take-off led to an increase in
the area of the tail fin.
By the beginning of December the Filton factory had
produced its 100th Beaufighter and by the following May 200
had been produced. Design modifications were introduced as
a result of Service trials and operational experience, making
the Beaufighter even mightier. Sergeants Hodgkinson and
Benn of No. 219 Squadron achieved the first Beaufighter kill
when they shot down a Dornier D 0 1 7 in October 1940.
Neither the aviation authorities nor the aircraft designers
had been alert to the need for a nightfighter when the
Beaufighter was conceived. But that need became clear when
the Luftwaffe began its night raids on Britain, for neither the
Whirlwinds, the Boulton Paul Defiants nor the modified
Blenheims were equal to the task.
However, the Beaufighter squadrons accepted that role;
they were fitted with aircraft interception (AI) equipment and
the crews underwent on-the-job training. They spared no
2
effort to master the demanding techniques of interpreting the
AI equipment in the utter darkness of the night skies and of
following the instructions of ground controllers who guided
them to their targets and safely back to base. After frequent
and rapid changes of course during a pursuit of a hostile
aircraft, the navigator — whose attention had been concen-
trated on his AI screen — had little idea of his position and
needed the controller's advice about returning to the home
airfield. An important aspect, indeed a vital one, was the need
to develop and practise teamwork between the pilot and the
navigator. The entire complex system of Britain's night
defence system relied upon trust and co-operation between
pilot and navigator and between the aircrew and the ground
controller.
Hitler's decision to launch his ill-fated invasion of Russia
brought about a redeployment of his air forces and a con-
sequent reduction in night raids against Britain. Some Beau-
fighter squadrons were then switched from defensive to
offensive roles and carried out intruder sorties over Europe by
day and by night. Their primary objective was the interdiction
of the French railway system but targets of opportunity were
also attacked.
Britain's lack of a long range fighter inhibited the capabilities
of Fighter Command as well as other Commands of the Royal
Air Force. For instance, Coastal Command could not initially
launch attacks against targets in Scandinavian waters because
its existing aircraft had either insufficient range to reach
distant objectives or insufficient armament to be pitted against
Luftwaffe fighters. Beaufighters were pressed into service and,
as the sea war went on, were modified by fitting additional
fuel tanks, by adding a table and electronic equipment at the
navigator's station and by installing bomb, torpedo and
rocket racks. Beaufighters eventually became Coastal Com-
mand's principal strike aircraft and in their maritime role
they nearly always had to press home their attacks into the
very muzzles of densely clustered anti-aircraft guns — a tactic
which demanded undiluted courage as well as determination
3
and skill on the part of both pilot and navigator. These men
made a substantial contribution to Coastal Command's un-
ceasing offensive and their operational activities played a
large part in crippling Germany's merchant shipping and
hampering the exploits of her Navy.
The Beaufighter was introduced to Middle East Command
at about the same time as it was introduced to Coastal
Command and the aircraft performed sterling work in the
desert and in the Mediterranean, Greece, Malta and Italy. In
North Africa the Beaufighter's ability to reach distant targets
and its ability to use a withering battery of airborne weapons
at low level made it one of the most feared engines of war in
the Allied arsenal. Many, many sorties were mounted against
German and Italian convoys trying to move war supplies to
Rommel's Afrika Corps. In the lead-up to the crucial Battle
of El Alamein, long range Beaufighters of No. 252 Squadron
scored success after success against ships heading for Tobruk.
Mounting shipping losses eventually forced the enemy to
switch from sea supply to air supply but the ubiquitous
Beaufighters wreaked havoc among Axis air transports trying
to force their way through.
The crushing of Axis forces in and around the Medi-
terranean allowed the redeployment of modern aircraft to
replace the outmoded and battle weary machines in India and
Burma. Squadrons in those theatres were therefore equipped
with the Beaufighter Mk VI which gave its best performance
at low altitude and was thus ideal for the kind of operations
into Burma. The use of large formations of aircraft was set
aside in favour of sorties by either one or two aircraft which
skimmed just above the tropical jungle or the dusty plains; at
that height they were very hard to detect from above or below
and consequently they achieved not only a degree of safety but
the very important element of surprise. Because of the peculiar
nature of its powerplant, the aircraft's approach was very
nearly silent and thus provided little or no warning of the
impending devastation about to fall on an unsuspecting
target. This characteristic led to the Beaufighter being referred
4
to as Whispering Death — a most graphic sobriquet which
was invented as a whimsy in an RAF Officers' Mess.
David Innes records that navigator Edgar Welch spoke of
the absolute necessity for trust and teamwork between the
two crew members, especially in view of the many solitary
sorties undertaken by Beaufighters in the Indian sub-continent:
To complete 30 successful sorties together, a crew of two had to

be complementary and reasonably complete and, on long range
operations, under no need to ask any guidance of anyone. In
Burma the navigation was mostly by dead reckoning, with none
of the electronic aids used in Europe, but not difficult once it
had been appreciated that the compasses would have considerable
error after the cannons had been fired.
In our own territory there had to be a radio watch and, when
returning in the dark, radio checks for bearings etc. Outside of
our own territory there had to be a non-stop lookout for strange
aircraft—Japs or Americans. The latter were so unpredictable
that eventually we had an arrangement under which they operated
in the morning and we in the afternoon/evening — yet they still
managed to shoot down two of our Beaus into the Akyab
swamps!
Approaching the target the guns and the camera had to be set
ready and a check made that the right petrol tanks were in
use — preferably the wing inners. In actual attacks, the pilots
tended to become engrossed in their cannon shooting and
temporarily ignored the world outside of the aiming ring.
In brief, pilot and navigator had non-stop activity and co-
operation.
The 'bag' of N o . 27 Squadron during just one m o n t h in 1943

included 44 locomotives, 43 items of rolling stock, 78 motor
transport vehicles, 16 river steamers and 536 other river craft.
Added to that was the destruction caused by single Beau-
fighters against a whole range of targets of opportunity — fuel
storage tanks, makeshift hangars, supply d u m p s , living
quarters, bridges, radio installations, and Japanese troops.
5
One aircraft chanced upon orderly ranks of enemy soldiers
formed up on the parade ground of the largest air base in
northern Burma participating in a ceremonial to honour
Emperor Hirohito's birthday. They were just about to raise
the flag when the pilot of the lone Whispering Death let loose
with his cannons — one of the shells severing the flagpole and
bringing the Rising Sun down over the bloodied bodies of the
colour guard.
Conceived to meet Britain's urgent air defence requirement,
the Beaufighter slid quite effortlessly and successfully into a
wide diversity of roles and the crews of this utilitarian hybrid
were justly proud of the splendid way in which it discharged
all the tasks allotted to it.
During the war years, nearly 6,000 Beaufighters were
produced at the various factories in England and these equipped
52 squadrons of the Royal Air Force, 14 squadrons of the
Fleet Air Arm, 2 squadrons of the Balkan Air Force and 4
squadrons of the United States Air Force. A total of 217
British-built Beaufighters was exported to Australia, the first
being delivered in March 1942.
In February 1939 the Royal Australian Air Force had
drawn up an Air Staff Requirement for a fighter aircraft with
which to arm its operational squadrons. Some three months
later, at its weekly meeting at Victoria Barracks in Melbourne,
the Air Board agreed to equip the RAAF with the British-built
Beaufort Fighter but the outbreak of war in Europe meant
that Britain could not fill the order at that time because she
needed all the output from her own factories for the air war
against Germany.
The European situation improved over the following two
years to the extent that Australia was able to place an initial
order for 54 Beaufighters for delivery by March 1942. By that
time RAAF Headquarters had issued an establishment table
for No. 30 Long Range Fighter Squadron to be equipped with
24 Beaufighters and orders were issued for it to be formed at
RAAF Station Richmond, New South Wales, on 9 March
1942.
6
CHAPTER TWO
Work-Up to a War Footing
T HE Squadron came into being at RAAF Station Richmond

on Monday, 9 March 1942 — the day on which the
Japanese executed Coastwatcher P. Good for reporting the
movements of their ships. That was also the day on which
Allied aircraft at Port Moresby made their first strike against
Lae which the Japanese had captured the previous day. They
retaliated that night with an attack by 10 bombers but
inflicted little more damage than the previous eight air raids.
Flying Officer Robert Goodsir of the Special Duties Branch
was the only officer on the Squadron's strength on foundation
day but a week later he was replaced by Flight Lieutenant
Cecil Cowley. He was joined by Flying Officer Alex Spooner
on Anzac Day and by Flying Officer John Mason on 22 May.
A fortnight later that trio was joined by 10 other officers of
the General Duties Branch. Fifty-five members of groundstaff
musterings were posted in from No. 2 Aircraft Depot at
Richmond on the Squadron's foundation day and these were
followed next day by 38 airmen from other RAAF units.
As the Squadron had not received even one Beaufighter,
there was very little work for the airmen to do within that
unit. Nevertheless, the Station Warrant Officer found work
for airmen arriving from beyond Richmond; for instance he
sent the incoming cooks and stewards to work in the Sergeants'
7
Mess, carpenters to the Barracks Section, clerks to the Head-
quarters Orderly Room, aircraft hands to the Equipment Store
and wireless operators to the Station Signals Office. No. 2
Aircraft Depot retained the Squadron's flight riggers, flight
mechanics, engineering and airframe fitters as part of the
Depot's work force for the time being.
Two of the first Beaufighters allotted to No. 30 Squadron
were products of Bristol's factory at Filton and arrived at the
port of Sydney as crated deck cargo. The Department of Main
Roads had to modify the superstructures of some bridges to
permit the low loaders to negotiate the road out to Richmond.
On 11 April those two Beaufighters were delivered to No.
2AD where the men — including those officially belonging to
No. 30 Squadron — had the difficult task of re-assembling an
aircraft they had never seen or heard of before. A Bristol's
representative was on hand to help them sort things out and
create some order out of the confusion of sub-assemblies,
parts, wiring harnesses and mechanisms. Aircraft A19-2 was
allotted to the Squadron on 15 June. Aircrew and groundstaff
arrived in increasing numbers during June and July, and by
August the Squadron personnel strength was close to its
target. The establishment provided for 389 men in four
flights:
170 in Headquarters Flight
79 in 'A' Flight
79 in 'B' Flight
61 in Servicing Flight.
Many of the men came to the Squadron straight from their
technical training courses; for instance, Ken Golledge arrived
from Ascot Vale immediately after completing his training as
a flight mechanic, Don Angus arrived from Point Cook
immediately after completing his training as a W / T operator
at Point Cook and Alwyn Green arrived immediately after
completing his training as a flight rigger at No. 1 Engineering
School. To familiarise all the technical airmen with the
Beaufighter's features, many fitters were sent to complete a
'secret' course on the Hercules engine while others were sent
8
to learn about the Beaufighter airframe. Other airmen under-
went No. 1 Beaufighter Conversion Course held within 30
Squadron at Richmond.
The Squadron establishment provided for 13 commissioned
pilots, 12 airmen pilots and 24 N C O navigators. Peter Fisken
was the first N C O navigator to arrive and the following day,
2 June, nine others arrived from No. 22 Squadron, which was
also based at Richmond and was being re-equipped with A20
Boston Havocs. The day after that, eight commissioned pilots
arrived after having completed a conversion course at No. 1
Operational Training Unit at Sale; these included Squadron
Leaders Walker and Read, and Flight Lieutenants Uren and
Little.
In July, Beaufort A9-79, fitted with dual controls, was
temporarily allotted from No. 1 Aircraft Depot to No. 30
Squadron for pilot training at Richmond. By that time the
Squadron had received a number of Beaufighters flown in
from that Depot at Laverton. During June, Brian Walker,
Dick Roe, John Mason and John Miles made delivery flights
to the Squadron and by mid-year it was equipped with its
complement of 24 aircraft.
Flight Lieutenant Bruce Rose, who had flown Beaufighters
during operations in Britain, and Flight Lieutenant 'Handle-
bars' Ellis, an experienced Royal Air Force Beaufighter pilot,
assisted in the conversions of Squadron pilots as well as
provided a conversion-to-type for the Station Commander at
Richmond — Group Captain Patrick Heffernan. Some of the
pilots had flown Blenheims or Beaufighters overseas but
others had flown only Avro Ansons or Airspeed Oxfords so
that handling the heavier and more complex Beaufighter was
a major experience for them. 'I'm not telling any lies,' said
Jim Wilson, 'when I say that I saw a number of shaking and
white-faced pilots after their first flight in a Beaufighter.'
The more capable pilots were frequently pestered by ground-
staff who, never having been up in any kind of aircraft before,
wanted a flight in a Beaufighter. Sergeant Wally Bell, an
engine fitter, went with Des Moran-Hilford who was doing
9
local night flying in A19-6 on 21 July but he saw very little of
the Hawkesbury district because of the wartime brown-out.
Bruce Robertson went with George Sayer who took a Beau-
fighter at tree-top height along the Hawkesbury, following
every bend in the river and firing his weapons at a marker
dropped in the sea. Bruce was exhilarated by the low level
flight but nearly jumped out of his skin when the four
cannons near his feet were fired.
For the first two years of its existence, No. 30 Squadron
was equipped with the British-built Beaufighter 1C — a variant
produced for Coastal Command operations. It was a mid-
wing, twin engined, two-seater aircraft 12.70m long, 4.82m
high with a wingspan of 17.63m. It incorporated light alloy
extrusions and had a flush-rivetted all metal stressed skin
(with the exception of the elevator and rudder which had
fabric coverings over metal frames). The cantilever type metal
wings had detachable tips and accommodated the power
plants. The engine mountings and the main units of the
undercarriage were of steel forgings and tubes; those main
units were of Vickers design, were fitted with tyres 106cm in
diameter, and were retracted backwards into the engine
nacelles by a single hydraulic jack. The tail unit was merely a
fork accommodating a tyre mounted wheel which could be
retracted forwards into a well.
The power plant consisted of two l,670hp Bristol Hercules
XVIII radial engines, each being of a two-row, 14 cylinder,
air cooled, sleeve valve design incorporating a supercharger
with a single-stage, two-speed impeller, a pair of magnetos, a
Hobson float operated carburettor with twin air intakes and
an electrical starting system. The three-bladed constant speed
Hydromatic airscrews were 3.38m in diameter and had a
clockwise rotation (viewed from the front).
Until the advent of the Hercules radials none of the
Squadron's engineering staff had come across a sleeve valve
aero engine before and their general unfamiliarity with the
aircraft and its components brought the inevitable teething
problems. For instance, on 4 July only five aircraft were
10
usable, the remaining 11 being unserviceable and, at the end
of that month, 13 of the Squadron's 24 aircraft were un-
serviceable.
Although the Bristol representative had alerted the ground-
staff to the possibility of finding metal fragments in the oil
filters, these were seldom found, and they reasoned that this
was because of the particular design for the operation of the
sleeve valves — which were single sleeves rather than double
sleeves. Nevertheless, these engines which had been designed
in England, were not performing too well in Australia's
different climatic conditions. An engine fitter, George Dusting,
believed that the source of the trouble lay in the fuel system.
'The engines had a very complex carburetion system involving
master control by a very beautifully made and intricate piece
of machinery,' he said. 'Instead of the more common system
of butterflies, those Hobson carburettors had a system of
cams whose adjustment was very critical. I eventually found
the exact settings and we had no more trouble on that score.'
The Squadron's work-up to operational status included
circuits and bumps, formation flying, weapons exercises and
cross country flights and was not without incident. Doug
Langusch and Norm Greasley were killed when A19-12
crashed just north of Melbourne; Bill Willard and Ralph
Nelson made a forced landing at Bourke when the starboard
engine of A19-13 seized up; Earl Wild and Col Harvey
experienced the drama of a power flick-roll and a series of
raunching 5G pull-outs in A19-2 because of incorrect speed
readings when the Pitot tube iced up; Ted Jones and Eric
Richardson were in A19-7 which was badly damaged after
doing a ground loop during a take-off on 17 July; Col
Campbell and Jim Yeatman made a crash landing in A19-17
at Richmond because of an undercarriage failure and Bob
Brazenor and Fred Anderson got to the stage of discussing
bailing out during a night flight from Jervis Bay in bad
weather and thick low cloud which made for uncertainty
about their position.
Morning fogs at Richmond interfered with flying activities
11
to some extent during the winter of 1942 but the cold and
wet weather had a greater impact on the health of the
Squadron personnel. Morning sick parades were relatively
well attended — with increased attendances every Tuesday, the
day of the Station Commander's formal parade and march
past. But the men were treated for only minor complaints and
during four months, the Station Sick Quarters saw fewer than
20 Squadron members admitted. They included Roger Pass-
field, Athol Hewitt, Wally Byles, Charlie Devlin, Jack
Williams, Harold O'Connor, and Dan Smith. Fortunately,
Dan was discharged in time to get across to Mount Gambier
for his marriage to Alice Watson about a fortnight before the
Squadron moved north.
The majority of the groundstaff were single and possessed
of the inclinations and interests of young and healthy males.
Naturally, they were glad to get away from the Station's
military environment and many of them patronised the local
dances, racecourses, hotels and cinemas. The night after they
arrived at Richmond, Russ Foster and two other armourers
from Uranquinty went to Windsor's Regent Theatre to see
Confirm or Deny in which a brave Don Ameche survived
enemy bombs and blitzkrieg. Wirth's Circus was also in the
district but not too many airmen could find six shillings for
the entrance fee. However, some were able to afford a few
pence for a glass of beer and for this they went across the road
to the Clarendon Hotel, where the bar was presided over by
the wig-wearing Ma Tunnel (who later married Robert
Burchall, a No. 30 Squadron messman). Woe betide anyone
caught there without a leave pass by Warrant Officer Leach,
the more so if he were caught during working hours. Police
Constables Hunt and Brooks saw that the landlord observed
the licensing regulations but they did not seem overly con-
cerned by the numerous men in uniform who were doing
business with the SP bookmaker in the Hotel Fitzroy.
Because of the lack of work within the unit during the first
month, airmen who had credits on their leave cards had no
difficulty in getting approval to go home on leave. For the
12
period of their absence their paybooks were credited with a
living-out allowance (in lieu of being provided with sustenance
while in barracks) at the rate of one shilling and ninepence a
day as Ration Allowance, and a further eightpence a day as
Special Allowance. Airmen who were granted leave and paid
those allowances included Corporal Gunton, and LACs Cather,
Crouch, Dorrington, Foster, Hall, Pink, Taylor and Watson.
Quite a few of the navigators posted to the Squadron had
just finished their training and recently been promoted to
sergeant rank. After living in airmens' barracks and mess halls
for over 12 months, they welcomed the facilities of the
Sergeants' Mess at Richmond: a furnished single room, a
pleasant dining room, a spacious anteroom and a bar —
although that wasn't of great interest to young Fred Cassidy
whose total alcoholic consumption to-date might have been
two glasses of beer.
Other N C O aircrew were not quite so abstemious. On
Saturdays, some of them — including Peter Fisken, Harry
Suthons, Danny Box, Arthur Jaggs, and Archie Mairet —
caught the train from Clarendon into Sydney where they
gathered at the Long Bar of the Hotel Australia for a
convivial afternoon session. There were also convivial evenings
in the Sergeants' Mess at Richmond. At a games night shortly
before the Beaufighter unit left Richmond, Warrant Officer
Ted Good led his Squadron team to a win against the Aircraft
Depot team led by Flight Sergeant Jack Cameron. The
contests included billiards, snooker, darts, shove-halfpenny,
and high-cock-alorum.
During the Squadron's work-up period at Richmond, 12
members took marriage vows; these included Bill Schofield,
Albert Clarke, Daniel Smith, Alec Spooner, Ron Downing,
Jeff Heath, Frank Sawtell and Jim Chirgwin. Jim married
Muriel Ford just two days before joining the Squadron but
Air Force authorities did the right thing and, while he was
serving at Kiriwina, arranged for him to go back to Sydney on
what was called 21 days Honeymoon Leave enjoyed, despite
being 15 months late.
13
There were not many opportunities for Air Force personnel
to mix with civilians in the Richmond area who, in any case,
were knuckling down to wartime conditions on the home-
front. They had to carry Identification Cards and produce
Ration Books to buy clothing, tea, sugar, tobacco, and petrol
although they could run their cars with charcoal burning gas
producers. They could join the Volunteer Defence Force, help
dig air raid trenches at the local schools or assist the National
Emergency Service to form evacuation plans for the district.
They were told that if the Air Raid Siren sounded they should
throw themselves flat on the ground, support the body on the
arms and keep the mouth open to minimise the effect of a
bomb blast. They were also told what to do if an enemy
aircraft landed in their backyard — disarm the crew, prevent
destruction of the aeroplane or documents and then inform
the authorities. They didn't need any pressure to take those
things seriously because enemy submarines and enemy aircraft
had breached the defences of their State capital.
During the night of Saturday, 30 May 1942, Lieutenant
Susumi Ito flew his Japanese Navy floatplane on a recon-
naissance mission over Sydney while his observer sketched the
positions of HMAS Canberra and other vessels which could
be targets for three midget submarines about to be launched.
He was at the controls of a Yokosuka E14Y1, flying at about
90 knots and sometimes as low as 100 feet, was illuminated
by searchlights several times and was wrongly identified as an
American Curtis Seagull. The aircraft had been launched
from a 2,550 tonne submarine a mere 50km north-east of
Sydney. The Air Board reacted by requiring units — even those
engaged in flying training — to carry out seaward searches and
No. 30 Squadron devoted some time to that aspect. During
July, for instance, it spent 112 flying hours on sea recon-
naissance missions. In addition, the crews maintained a
lookout during training flights which happened to be over the
sea and accounted for 355 flying hours by the 29 pilots and 25
wireless air observers on strength during that month.
The Squadron Commander, Squadron Leader Brian Walker,
14
had encouraged his aircrews to sort themselves out into
pilot/navigator combinations and most of them were satisfied
and pleased with the arrangements they made. The pilots
were quite busy learning about handling the Beaufighter but
the navigators found very little to occupy them on the ground,
although Len Greenhill and Harold O'Connor provided some
informal navigation and radio training. All the navigators
were wireless trained and although none of them had seen the
Australian-designed AT5/AR8 radio equipment before, they
soon mastered it and maintained satisfactory air communi-
cation with the civilian Aeradio network.
At the end of July 1942 Australia felt she was in a very
threatened position; she had been shocked when Japanese
aircraft raided Darwin the previous February, when three
midget submarines fired torpedoes in Sydney Harbour at the
end of May and when flying boats had dropped bombs on
Townsville that very month. Australian forces had been
forced out of Rabaul and Lae, Japanese ground forces were
threatening Milne Bay and gaining the upper hand along the
Kokoda Trail. In ordering the operational deployment of No.
30 Squadron to New Guinea the authorities were providing
the frontline with its first Australian two-place ground attack
aircraft and one which would inflict substantial damage on
the enemy.
Following the receipt of instructions from Air Force Head-
quarters, the Commanding Officer issued a Secret Warning
Order on 6 August, alerting his section commanders to
prepare for a move. His subsequent orders dealt with admini-
strative aspects of the impending move to an unspecified
destination but as personnel were ordered to deposit their
winter uniforms in the kit repository and were issued with
active service kit for the tropics, the location of the Squadron's
operational base was an open secret.
Flight Lieutenant Cyril Wearne despatched Ted Good, 10
airmen and 70 tents on a northbound train to set up a
temporary camp at a site which would later be disclosed to
him by telegram. On 11 August the Adjutant coordinated the
15
movement of heavy stores, equipment and vehicles to Windsor
railway station where they were loaded on to a train. He also
organised a parade of all non-aircrew personnel in front of
No. 5 Hangar immediately after lunch, at which the flight
commanders inspected the men to ensure that each was
correctly dressed in a drab uniform, had a rifle, frog and
bayonet (or pistol, for corporals and above), a kitbag, webbing
knapsack, a steel helmet, a water bottle containing drinking
water and a pack of emergency rations.
After a short address by Squadron Leader Walker, the men
marched off, in column of route to Clarendon railway station,
led by an RAAF Band playing the tune popularly known as
'We're a Bunch of Bastards' — chosen because it contained the
phrase frequently used by the Commanding Officer. The
route to Clarendon station was lined with airmen, airwomen,
local civilians, parents, girlfriends and wives — including Dulcie
Golledge, who wasn't to see her engine fitter husband for 15
months. Frank Simpson said, 'I felt pretty puffed up, for it
was the first time I had marched in a squadron behind an Air
Force Band. It was a real moving situation and we all felt very
proud.'
The train with some 300 groundstaff on board, pulled out
at 1.53pm, its coaches under the supervision of Pilot Officers
George King, John Williams, Leslie Sims, Ernest Lee and Stan
Hutchinson. It stopped at Gosford for dinner, Taree for
breakfast, Kempsey for lunch and Grafton for dinner, arriving
at Clapham station in Brisbane at 6.40am on 13 August. The
men were accommodated in the tents of the Army Transit
Camp at the Ascot Racecourse and, after an address by
Brigadier McColl, boarded a narrow gauge troop train at
10pm on Friday, 14 August. On the trip to Townsville they
stopped at Bundaberg for breakfast, Gladstone for lunch,
Rockhampton for dinner and Bowen for breakfast, arriving at
their terminus at 12.40pm on 16 August.
Cliff Maxwell had supervised his drivers and fitters in the
loading of the Squadron's vehicles on to wagons and their
goods train followed the passenger train up to Townsville.
16
Cliff Maxwell and his fellow corporal slept in the staff car
whilst Alec Atkinson, Joe Erskine, George Hindmarsh, Jack
Nichols and other transport personnel occupied the cabins of
the other vehicles.
Squadron personnel spent two days at RAAF Station
Garbutt, after which they moved to a nearby emergency
airfield at Bohle River to occupy the tented camp established
by Ted Good and his advance party. The Beaufighters arrived
there on 18 August, some having stayed the night at Bundaberg
so that pilots could show off their operational aircraft to their
friends still flying Ansons at the Service Flying Training
School there. According to No. 4 Operations Order, each of
the 24 aircraft which flew to Bohle River from Richmond
carried two airmen in addition to its pilot and navigator:
A19-1: Squadron Leader Read, Flight Sergeant Greenhill,

Flight Sergeant Badman, AC1 Navin Sergeant Badman
A19-2: Pilot Officer Roe, Flight Sergeant Fisken, LAC Hughes,
LAC Butler
A19-3: Flying Officer McKew, Sergeant Lasscock, Corporal
Cowan, Corporal Marsden
A19-4: Squadron Leader Walker, Pilot Officer Mason, Flight
Sergeant Thomas, Sergeant Hammond
A19-5: Flight Lieutenant Welsh, Sergeant Witheford, Sergeant
Forde, AC1 Gazzard
A19-6: Sergeant Cummins, Warrant Officer Kirley, LAC
Rawlinson, AC1 Jeffries
A19-8: Flight Lieutenant Little, Pilot Officer Spooner,
Corporal Bell, AC1 Smith
A19-9: Pilot Officer Sandford, Flight Sergeant Jaggs, LAC
Foster, AC1 Bond
A19-10: Flight Sergeant Campbell, Flight Sergeant Yeatman,
AC1 Nott, AC1 Keating
A19-11: Sergeant Morgan, Sergeant Cassidy, LAC Meers,
LAC Dusting
A19-13: Sergeant Vial, Sergeant Hanks, Corporal Maclean,
Corporal Roberts
17
A19-14: Sergeant Butterfield, Sergeant Mairet, LAC Crouch,
LAC Bartlett
A19-15: Flying Officer Brazenor, Sergeant Anderson, AC1
Carmichael, AC1 Breen
A19-28: Squadron Leader Parker, Warrant Officer O'Connor,
Sergeant Davies, LAC Tayler
A19-33: Flight Lieutenant Uren, Pilot Officer Maguire,
Corporal Bain, LAC Thompson
A19-35: Pilot Officer Stephens, Sergeant B Cameron, LAC
Edwards, AC1 Collins
A19-36: Warrant Officer Hughes, Flight Sergeant Keller,
LAC Fienberg, AC1 Nipperess
A19-37: Flying Officer Willard, Flight Sergeant Nelson,
Corporal Beynon, LAC Watson
A19-38: Flight Lieutenant Wild, Pilot Officer Harvey,
Corporal Schofield, LAC Edgar
A19-39: Sergeant Sayer, Flight Sergeant Shaw, AC1 Boyd,
LAC Horne
A19-49: Flying Officer Jones, Sergeant Suthons, Sergeant
Herron, AC1 Reinhard
A19-50: Flying Officer Moran-Hilford, Sergeant Richardson,
AC1 Wilson, AC1 Bromilow
A19-53: Sergeant Downing, Sergeant Box, LAC Mortimer,
LAC Baich
A19-54: Flying Officer Harding, Sergeant H Cane, LAC
Park, LAC Morris
The Squadron was located at Bohle River instead of at
Garbutt for security reasons as Kawansi flying boats had
raided Townsville the previous month. Every afternoon two
Beaufighters were located at Garbutt to enable a rapid scramble
in the event of further night raids. Bill Willard and Ralph
Nelson were scrambled twice at night but the 'raiders' turned
out to be Flying Fortresses.
Bohle River was notable for its insidious and persistent red
dust, its clouds of flies and its many goats, so the men got
away as often as they could. Some paid two shillings for a
launch trip across to Magnetic Island where they could frolic
18
in the warm water or quaff an ale or two at the hotel adjacent
to the jetty. Others lost their money to the bookmakers at the
dogtrack and sank a few tots of Beenleigh Rum. Others swept
their partners round the floor at dances held at Heatleys in
West End and others patronised the cinemas in town — one of
which had a roof which could be slid open on a clear night.
John Mason and Brian Walker occasionally met up with
Squadron Officer Starke and some of the other WAAFS who
staffed the Fighter Sector. Les Rawlinson thought that Towns-
ville was like an unsavoury frontier town where nearly
everyone needed to carry a gun and where fights were common.
'American Military Police swung their baseball bats at every-
one in or near the fracas,' he said, 'no matter what uniform
the brawlers were wearing.'
The flight commanders organised a continuation training
programme for the aircrew, putting particular emphasis on
low level flying and map reading in the mountainous country
which was similar to that in New Guinea. Beaufighters and
Bostons often practiced together and developed an effective
technique for joint attacks. Squadron aircraft also visited the
huge American base at Charters Towers where the aircrews
discussed flying procedures and operational matters with
Allied aviators. Sergeants Bill Cameron, Bill Clark and George
Moore felt a little bit out of those activities — they were
uncrewed navigators. George had arrived at Richmond the
day before the main party left for the Squadron's northern
destination, being straight from his bombing and gunnery
course. The trio had been passengers on the long and exhaust-
ing train journey to Townsville and were to be passengers on
the much more pleasant sea voyage to New Guinea.
On 3 September Squadron personnel attended a church
parade to commemorate three years of war — it was a brief
affair at which Brian Walker read the lesson. Seventeen
members were unable to attend that parade for they were on
board an aircraft bound for Port Moresby; that Advance
Party was in charge of Pilot Officer King and included Ted
Good, Don Angus, Ray Brockman, Ron Dorman and Bruce
Robertson.
19
There was a pay parade after the church parade and,
officially, nobody was supposed to leave the camp yet more
than half the men managed to get away into town for what
many considered might be their last experience of civilisation
for some time. There is no record that any men from 30
Squadron were part of the long queue outside the Ford Street
premises occupied by a pair of 'ladies of the night' and which
was being kept in order by two Military Policemen. As he
drove past the line-up of waiting clients, Les Cook wondered
how many servicemen in the Townsville area were taking
notice of the many posters which read: Flies Spread Disease —
Keep Yours Closed!
During the first week of September the entire squadron was
turned out for a kit inspection by Wing Commander Grant
after which he stood on a small platform and gave a pep talk
about health, morale, air raids and dealing with natives. The
following week, stores, ammunition and equipment were
taken to the wharf to be loaded on to the Bontekoe Batavia
which the communist-led wharf labourers refused to load.
Airmen were formed into loading parties and when they had
put all the stores and supplies in the holds, personnel were
embarked on the SS Taroona, a 5,355 tonne vessel which had
been taken off the Bass Strait run to become a fast troop
carrier for the Navy. Escorted by the Royal Australian Navy
frigate HMAS Swan, she sailed for New Guinea at 6am on
Friday 11 September with nearly 300 men of No. 30 Squadron
aboard.
20
CHAPTER THREE
Early Days at Ward's Strip
A FORMATION of Beaufighters left Garbutt shortly after

lunch on Sunday, 12 September and made landfall at
Port Moresby some 3 hours 40 minutes later. Due to a
misunderstanding, the formation landed at Waigani where
Earl Wild managed to put the port wheel of A19-38 in a great
mound of earth during his landing. 'By heavens,' said Col
Harvey, 'it gave our Beaufighter a thumping great jolt — a
lesser aircraft would have fallen apart.'
After Flight Commanders Peter Parker and Charles Read
had sorted things out, the Beaufighters made the short hop to
Ward's Strip where the men joined Equipment Officer Les
Braund and the advance party. Next day the Commanding
Officer made a reconnaissance of the area, selected a safer and
more salubrious site in June Valley, about 4km to the west of
Ward's, and arranged with Squadron Leader Maxwell Scott,
Commanding Officer of No. 5 Mobile Works Squadron, to
clear the site in preparation for the arrival of the sea echelon.
The Taroona tied up at the Moresby wharf on 5.30pm on
Monday, 14 September and all her passengers were dis-
embarked without incident. The Taroona s captain did not
want to be tied up to the wharf overnight in case the Japanese
decided to raid the port so he pulled out to sea before the
Squadron's vehicles, tents and other stores could be unloaded.
21
Adjutant Wearne instructed Cliff Maxwell and his men from
the Transport Section to remain at the wharf overnight so as
to be on hand when the vehicles were unloaded next morning.
Army trucks took the other personnel on a night time drive
from the wharf through the town and along the dusty,
winding road to their interim camp at the northern end of
Ward's Strip. After a meal of curried rice the airmen spread
their ponchos on the ground under the open sky and tried to
sleep, although many were bitten by vicious mosquitoes,
worried about snakes and alarmed by rumours about Japanese
infiltrators.
Captain Nakashaki of the Japanese 44th Mountain Artillery
Regiment was elated when he looked south from his forward
position in the Owen Stanley Range. His diary entry on that
occasion reads: 'Over there was Port Moresby, the object of
our invasion, which has become an obsession. Officers and
men embraced one another, overcome by emotion. At night
we could see the lights of Moresby.' The newly arrived Air
Force personnel were able to sleep a little easier within a few
weeks, for Captain Nakashaki and his compatriots were
gradually pushed back along the Kokoda Trail.
The day after their arrival the men breakfasted on pork and
beans and then got to work erecting their tents at the new
campsite in June Valley, pestered by flies and hampered by
teeming rain which made it awkward to handle the sodden
canvas. Afterwards, they put up other tents to accommodate
the technical sections and flights at Ward's. Engine fitters
who helped to establish facilities at the strip included Merv
Ashard, Ken Beck, Sid Cross, Gwynn Davies, Les Davis,
Harry Deacon, Russ Edgar, Arthur Ferrier, Don Flemming,
Jack Horler, Alec Jenkins, George Latham, Lou Lothian, Ray
Maddox, Ken Morley and Bob Wighton. One of the airmen
wrote: 'At the end of the day and buggering about in the dark,
I flopped on my allotted ground space, caked in mud,
unshaven and stinking like a sewer.' A series of explosions
sent some of the men running for the hills, thinking that the
enemy was bombing the strip, while others — including Pat
22
Cowan and Frank Forde — hastily moved the Beaufighters
away from flying fragments emanating from what turned out
to be an ammunition dump set alight by a grass fire.
For the most part, each pilot and his navigator shared a
tent, irrespective of rank. Navigators who were involved in
putting up their canvas shelters included Danny Box, Bill
Cameron, Hedley Cane, Fred Cassidy, Peter Fisken, Arthur
Jags, Bill Keller, Allan Kirley, Ted Lassock, John Maguire,
Alec Spooner and Jim Yeatman.
Twelve aircraft of No. 30 Squadron (now under the
operational control of 5th Air Force) were sent out on the
unit's first strike from its operational base. They were ordered
out on 17 September to destroy barges which were landing
troops and supplies at beaches near Sanananda and Buna and
whose destruction would help men of the 7th Division who
were beginning to push the Japanese forces back towards
Kokoda. Peter Welsh and Clif Witheford were bitterly dis-
appointed because A19-5 developed trouble and they were
unable to take part in that air operation. When the other
crews landed at Ward's they were accorded a heroes' welcome by
the groundstaff who were anxiously awaiting the safe return
of the Beaufighters from their first whack at the enemy. The
Air Officer Commanding No. 9 Operational Group sent a
congratulatory mesage and General MacArthur's signal called
the attack 'a honey'. No Beaufighters were lost on that strike
yet the captured documents of No. 1 Battery, 47th Japanese
Anti-Aircraft Battalion record that it had destroyed four
Beaufighters.
That night Moresby suffered its eightieth air raid, a bomb
exploding in the vicinity of Ward's Strip, injuring two
Americans in an ambulance and four others in a truck. Allan
Pivott was in the shower when he heard aircraft approaching
but, as a pay clerk, he didn't have the experience to distinguish
the sounds made by enemy or Allied aircraft. Moreover, the
alarm about the attack was not given until the raiders were
overhead by which time Allan and others had sped away from
the camp area as fast as their legs would carry them. That raid
23
motivated the men to dig slip trenches beside their tents and
the Barracks Store was soon deprived of its stock of picks and
shovels.
Beaufighters were ordered out next day to hit the mule
trains taking supplies from Buna to the enemy troops opposing
forward movement of Australian units. Des Moran-Hilford
and Bill Clarke nearly came to grief in A19-50 but Des
managed to drag his Beaufighter up and just clear a hilltop
during his recovery from an attacking dive. The same crew
was involved in another incident on 23 September when they
endured the first attempt by Japanese fighters to shoot down
a Beaufighter. The incident took place near Buna when two
of the six Zeros escorting a formation of dive bombers got on
the tail of A19-50 but Moran-Hilford outdistanced them
when he dived down to sea level and pushed his throttles fully
forward. Captured Japanese documents contain a disgusted
reference to the lack of success on the part of their fighters.
George Moore flew with Len Vial in A19-37 on that
mission, alongside Mos Morgan and Fred Cassidy in A19-35.
As a result of George's information about the intense ack-ack
fire in the target area, Archie Mairet ensured that his name
was on the Mission Board for a repeat attack that afternoon.
George Sayer and Archie Mairet perished when A19-1 was
shot down by anti-aircraft fire at Buna. George had flown
Hurricanes in the Middle East, been in Russia with an RAF
fighter squadron, was with an RAF bomber squadron in
Singapore when it fell, got across to Java and then spent 44
days in a lifeboat before reaching the Northern Territory.
When he joined No. 30 Squadron at Richmond and crewed up
with Archie Mairet, he had already flown more than 900
hours and taken part in 43 operations. 'What a crying shame,'
said Fred Cassidy, who had experienced his first flight in a
Beaufighter flown by Sayer, 'that after surviving so many
overseas operations, he should go for a Burton on his first job
out of Moresby.' In its records the Japanese anti-aircraft
battery noted that it had used a two-second fuse setting, had
scored a direct hit with its shell, examined the wreckage and
24
listed the equipment it contained. When the Allies recaptured
Buna our soldiers found the aircraft's wreckage in a mangrove
swamp; it was clear that A19-1 had crashed into the ground
with great force, disintegrating and then burning.
By the end of September the men had brought a great deal
of order to their camp. They had erected a marquee to serve as
a mess for all officers and aircrew, another for the senior
non-commissioned officers and another for the airmen. Bill
Branhthwaite, Duncan Hattrick, Charlie Mills, Bill Newton,
Bob Vidler and a team of other cooks had mastered the
mobile Wiles Cooker and did their best to concoct something
palatable from the dreadful tinned stuff provided by the
Army as 'rations, troops, for the use of. Under arrangements
made by the Caterer, Bill Grogan, transport drivers collected
the rations from the Army depot at Murray Barracks on the
outskirts of the township.
Stan Hutchinson and Laurie Smith had helped to erect
tents to accommodate the Operations and Intelligence Sections
and had put up others to serve as a crew room and as a
briefing/debriefing room. Don Angus and his fellow wireless
operators had strung telephone wires from the camp down to
Albert Lee's engineering 'office' and to the Operations Section
set up by Les Sims and Harry Underwood near the control
tower. Assisted by Ewen Blackman, Neville Britton, Ray
Bockman and Bruce Robertson, he had established the wireless
section in a tent near a taxiway at the northern end of Ward's
Strip and had set up an AR/8 radio receiver so that they could
maintain a listening watch whenever the Beaufighters were
out on operational or non-operational flights.
The adjutant had secured the services of a dozen or so
natives and turned them over to Karl Williams with instruc-
tions to use them to hack the kunai grass, keep the dust down
around the tents and carry out general clean-up activities
throughout the camp. The adjutant, who had high standards
of personal conduct, was horrified to see the natives stand and
empty their bladders when and where they felt like it so he
lined them up and, having no knowledge of Pidgin English,
25
addressed them in his usual formal style of language, finishing
up with the admonition that 'promiscuous urinating by
indigenous personnel must be terminated forthwith.'
Corporals Wisely and Fraser, together with LACs Bayes,
Burleigh, Hagle, Hurst, Nancarrow, Steen, Willis and gangs
of other guards had the unenviable task of digging latrine
trenches and because it was difficult to handle their picks and
shovels in a short trench, they dug trenches to accommodate
wooden six-holder thunder boxes. Privacy was not a con-
sideration so the structures were not given partitions or outer
walls. However, a roof was necessary to provide shade from
the burning sun and to give protection against tropical
downpours. These latrines served a number of social purposes
since their users could pass on news from home, peddle the
latest local rumours, express their feelings about the 'shiny
bums' and others in authority and rail against the standard of
their food and living conditions.
Les Braund and his men had at last collected most of the
packing cases containing the Squadron's supplies and had
opened the Equipment Store for business. The two carpenters,
Sid Edgar and Bill Balderston, had used what tools and
material they could lay their hands on to fashion numerous
items which made camp living more pleasant and comfortable.
The Barracks Store had doled out hundreds of bedframes,
palliasses, mosquito nets, hurricane lamps and fly-sprays. Bill
Marsh, the Squadron's Medical Officer and nursing orderly
John Farquhar had set up their sick quarters in tents on the
rising ground behind the messes and seen to it that their
ambulances contained items which might be needed if a
Beaufighter were to crashland on Ward's Strip.
Cliff Maxwell had pushed Lyall Bunn, Jim Nichols, Keith
Rose and other motor transport fitters and drivers very hard
in order to provide his mechanics with some shelter from the
blazing sun or pelting rain while they worked on the repair
and maintenance of the Squadron's vehicles. The sheets of
corrugated iron used on the roof of the transport shed had
been acquired from a helpful Army driver with whom Cliff
26
Cliff Maxwell and members of his Transport Section, Goodenough,
October 1943. (Courtesy Cliff Maxwell)
had become quite chummy. A number of 200 litre drums had

been positioned outside some of the accommodation tents
and it was the task of Joe Erskine, who had previously been
with No. 22 Squadron as a transport driver, to fill the water
tanker at Murray Barracks and regularly replenish the drums
and other water storage facilities. The trip to Murray Barrack
was cancelled after Don Joyes used his water divining skills to
locate an on-site water supply and this was later piped to
header tanks at the show block and the kitchen.
John Hunter had found his L.C. Smith typewriter and
Gestetner duplicator and churned out a number of Daily
Routine Orders. One of the early issues reminded personnel to
carry their gas masks at all times whilst the issue of 27
September informed them that the government had just
introduced daylight saving. Hunter also compiled Personnel
Occurrence Reports and the first one he issued in New Guinea
promulgated the posting of W / T Operator George Shearing
from Headquarters North Eastern Area.
Adjutant Wearne had arranged for the erection of a flagpole
outside his Orderly Room and maintained normal routine by
hoisting and lowering the RAAF Ensign at the appropriate
27
times. At a morning parade he harangued the men about
orders from higher formation that every airman had to wear
webbing equipment and a steel helmet and had to carry a rifle
and full water bottle to and from his place of duty. At his
parade on 29 September the Adjutant referred to the need for
everyone to wear a shirt in the Mess, to write fewer letters
home, to maintain calm during an air raid and to be of good
cheer despite the many war-related difficulties of life in
tropical New Guinea.
Karl Williams had been appointed as Defence Officer and
while teaching a group of clerks about ground defence tactics
he accidentally discharged a loaded automatic weapon, the
bullet narrowly missing one of the students. Karl had quite a
large responsibility for he was in control of 59 guards — the
largest number of any mustering within the Squadron. He had
instituted a system of passwords, selecting words such as 'riff-
raff or 'regular' in the belief that Japanese infiltrators were
unable to properly pronounce such words. His men were
responsible for local ground defence and the security of the
Beaufighters parked on Ward's Strip.
'Ward's' referred to the general area west of the Seven Mile
Strip and whose defence had been allocated to Lieutenant
Colonel K.H. Ward of the 53rd Battalion; hence the airfield
facility built by No. 5 Mobile Works Squadron took on the
name of Ward's Strip because it was located within the
colonel's area of responsibility. That RAAF works unit had
landed at Moresby with 250 men, two bulldozers, two
tractors, two graders, six carryalls, 23 tipper trucks and a
Barford-Perkins roller of 1890 vintage and hoed into the
construction task to such a degree that the strip was open to
traffic 21 days after work began. The unit also constructed
the parallel taxiway, the many dispersal bays for RAAF
aircraft and the linking taxiways. The men did a terrific job
with inadequate equipment and under horrendous conditions;
they are justifiably proud of their wartime achievements, the
more so because Ward's was reputed to be the only strip in
New Guinea that didn't fail in bad weather.
28
When the rear party arrived from Townsville and reported
to the Disciplinary Warrant Officer, Ted Good directed them
to read the instructions pinned to a noticeboard. In summary,
they read:
• Put oil on your boots or they'll rot.
• Inspect your boots for crawlies before you put them on.
• If it rains, belt in your tentpegs and slacken the ropes.
• If it gets hot, roll up the tent walls.
• If it blow a 'Guba', belt in your tentpegs, lace up the flaps
and tie down the walls.
• At night, keep your tin hat and boots near your bed.
• If there is a raid, don your boots and tin hat (at least) and
jump into your slit trench.
• Don't forget the password for the day.
• Develop an ability to get to the latrine in the dark.
• Don't throw lighted cigarette butts in the kunai grass.
Practically everybody smoked. In his study of the American
armed forces, Paul Russell wrote: 'A serviceman who didn't
smoke was looked on as a freak and it was axiomatic that
smoking, if a silly, dirty and costly pastime, was venal rather
than fatal. Nobody called it an addiction nor did they call a
fag a coffin nail. The authorities regarded cigarettes to be
absolutely indispensable to high morale.' Turf and Craven A
cigarettes were thought to be the premier brands while
Capstans, Raleighs and Twenty Grand were regarded as
inferior. Alan Laing bought a pipe at the Canteen because he
though it would make him look older; he smoked Temple
Bar, Havelock, Champion or Red Ruby tobacco. The latter
was supplied in a round tin with a snap-on lid, inside of
which was a rubber seal; this airtight container was particu-
larly useful in the humid tropical conditions.
The Canteen was just a few metres away from the Orderly
Room in which Max Annetts, Alan Laing, Reg Crowl and
John Hunter were working. It could always supply the basics:
washing powder, toothpaste, toothbrushes, sticks of shaving
soap, writing paper, envelopes, pen nibs, Stephen's blue/black
29
Quartet of pipe smokers, Goodenougb, September 1943.
(Courtesy John Laverty)
ink, Bex Powders, Wax Vestas, Bryant & May's matches and
Lifebuoy soap, which Fred Cassidy disliked as it was made of
strong carbolic. The Canteen also stocked necessaries such as
Bickfords Sal Vital, Gillette razor blades, Wrigley's chewing
gum, California Poppy pomade, Brylcreem, Zig Zag cigarette
papers and a cigarette rolling machine.
During October the Beaufighters flew many missions against
the enemy. On the first day of that month six aircraft were
sent out to attack a cluster of small boats at Salamaua:
• Brian Walker and John Mason — A19-4
• Dick Roe and Peter Fisken — A19-2
• Peter Parker and Harold O'Connor — A19-29
• Mos Morgan and Fred Cassidy — A19-35
• Ross Little and Alec Spooner — A19-8
• Bill Willard and Ralph Nelson —A19-11.
Bill Willard's starboard engine was hit by an enemy shell
but he managed the extremely difficult feat of getting his
stricken aircraft up to 15,000 feet to get across the threaten-
ing ridges of the Owen Stanley Range. During his landing
approach at Ward's, the dud motor was still windmilling and
30
to the anxiously waiting engine fitters it sounded like a
broken down concrete mixer. The Engineer Officer found
that the enemy's shell had torn away the cowling and the
heads of the two lower cylinders but had not exploded. The
engine was treated rather gingerly until the armourers had
removed the 'Made in Japan' missile.
Eight days after that episode the Beaufighters joined
Mitchells of the 90th Bomb Group in an attack on the
Japanese aerodrome at Lae with top cover provided by
Aircobras of the 35th Fighter Group. Intelligence about
Japanese activity in and around Lae was provided by Flight
Lieutenant Leigh Vial, a cousin of one of 30 Squadron's pilots.
He maintained a lonely vigil on the high mountains over-
looking the enemy positions and month after month eluded
their patrols and survived the terrible steamy conditions of the
leech infested jungle. He transmitted his information to No.
10 Signals Unit in Moresby and this was used by the Air Staff
at No. 9 Operational Group to decide what attacks should be
made by RAAF aircraft.
The Group had been formed at Moresby as a subordinate
unit of North Eastern Area Headquarters, Townsville, and
had operational command of the RAAF squadrons at Port
Moresby and Milne Bay. Its other units in the Moresby area
included No. 42 Operational Base Unit, No. 10 Signals Unit,
No. 15 Repair and Salvage Unit, No. 3 Medical Receiving
Station, No. 4 Replenishing Centre and No. 4 Fighter Sector.
The Fighter Sector staff were pleased when Earl Wild, a 30
Squadron pilot who had contracted malaria and was tem-
porarily unfit for flying, was posted in as an air controller.
Earl was on duty on 9 November when Eric Lansell and
Harold O'Connor led an armed reconnaissance of the Buna
area in A19-36 during which two of the fuel tanks were holed
by enemy fire and the navigator wounded in the left thigh.
Earlier that day he had flown with Peter Parker in A19-28
and their aircraft had been hit by machinegun fire during an
attack on enemy lines of communication to Kokoda. On that
day, and the next, the Beaufighters contributed to the defeat
31
of the Japanese at Oivi and Orari, an action which allowed
the 16th and 25th Australian Brigades to start their push
towards Buna. Lieutenant Sakamoto was killed in the defence
of Gorari and his captured diary recorded that Australian
troops had encircled his position 'while all morning their
planes have bombed and strafed us.'
T h e Squadron's second operational tragedy occurred on 13
October when T o m Butterfield and Rupert Wilson, in A 1 9 -
68 and flying in the wing position to Ron Uren, crashed into
a hill after strafing enemy ground forces near Kokoda. Butter-
field had joined the Squadron at Richmond the previous June
on posting from N o . 1 Operational Training Unit at Sale;
Wilson had joined about a fortnight later on completion of
his navigator training at N o . 2 Bombing and Gunnery School,
Port Pirie. He had graduated with t w o other navigators w h o
were to lose their lives in operations with N o . 30 Squadron —
Stewart Cameron and N o r m Greasley.
Beauf ighters were sent up on a standing patrol over Moresby
on 24 October and the 3rd Australian Light Anti-Aircraft
Group reported that:
The RAAF arranged for two Beauf ighters to patrol from 7pm to
lam. The hours were well chosen for at 1930 three enemy planes
raided the Seven Mile drome. The tactics were for one Beau-
fighter to patrol 2 miles to the east and one to patrol 2 miles
west. No AA to engage. Searchlights to illuminate. Our search-
lights failed to pick up the targets mainly owing to their extreme
height and cloud. The Beaufighterswere too close in and the
searchlights were confused by their sound.
Peter Parker and Ron Uren, in A19-28 and A19-33 re-

spectively, would not have been at all impressed by that Army
officer's criticism of their efforts. One of the Squadron's
diarists wrote: 'There was a lot of confusion upstairs last
night. The Japs sailed serenely over the target and straight out
again while our boys covered miles searching for them. Parker
caught a glimpse of one and swung in behind, but the Jap
plane disappeared into thick cloud at that m o m e n t . '
32
On 27 October, Ted Jones and Eric Richardson were killed
when A19-49 was hit by anti-aircraft fire during a strike
against Lae which was led by Peter Parker and Harold
O'Connor in A19-28. Other crews saw smoke streaming from
the damaged engine as the Beaufighter belly flopped into
shallow water near the shore, saw it recover momentarily and
then crash into the ocean about 300 metres out to sea. Ross
Little and Alec Spooner were in A19-8 which sustained
damage to a fuel line but they got back to base and landed
safely.
Fred Anderson was flying with Bob Brazenor in A19-15 on
that mission which was written up by the war correspondent
for the Sun. He told that newspaper's readers that he had met
Bob about a year ago in a cold, windswept fighter station in
England where he had also met five other pilots of No. 30
Squadron — Dick Roe, Jack Sandford, Gwynne Hughes, Bob
Cummins and Len Vial. He went on to say that whilst the
aircraft had been used in England as a nightfighter, it was
being used in New Guinea with outstanding success in low
level strafing, 'a task for which its tremendous firepower
makes it eminently suitable.'
The Beaufighters continued to strafe targets of opportunity
in the Buna area and flew 38 sorties in the four days after
Lieutenant Sakamoto's death at Gorari. On some of those
sorties they were accompanied by American Mitchells and
Martin Marauders (which earned a fearsome reputation as
widow-makers). It was during an operation in company with
a formation of Marauders that Col Campbell and Peter
Fisken received hits in the fuselage of A19-50. The aircraft was
not badly damaged but the report in the Age said that
Campbell out-fought and out-thought the stubbornly pursuing
Zero for 15 minutes.
Gwynne Hughes and Bill Keller achieved the distinction of
standing a Beaufighter on its nose in the grey clay along the
side of Ward's Strip when they landed there after a joint
attack on Japanese anti-aircraft installations at Buna on 22
November. One of their tyres had been badly damaged by
33
enemy fire. The Age reported that Hughes had been jumped
near Buna and that:
For nearly 20 minutes the two planes screwed and twisted crazily
as the Beaufighter scooted inland with the Zero pilot trying
frantically to bring his gunsight to bear. Then down from the
sky above roared an American Boston with guns blazing. The
Zero faltered as bullets ripped into it, turned over and dived into
the ground. Although slightly wounded, Hughes brought his
bullet-ridden aircraft home safely.
Since his arrival in New Guinea, Gwynne Hughes and other

pilots had observed that the Squadron had been favoured with
fine weather—prevailing southerly breezes, moderate tem-
peratures, cool nights, some light rain. However, frequent
heavy showers at the end of November brought frustration to
the airmen engaged on repair and maintenance tasks and since
those had to be carried out in the open, the men were forever
dragging canvas covers on or off the aircraft. George Dusting,
who was carrying out a 120-hourly inspection of A19-3,
wrote that on 16 November: 'There was a frantic scurry to
put the covers on just before 5.30 when there was a terrific
downpour. We made a miserable sight huddling under the
kite, watching a few chaps splashing about in their glistening
wet capes.'
Moresby's inclement weather didn't interfere with air
operations which were now directed against the Japanese
aircraft and installations at Lae. Petty Officer Sakai, the first
Japanese fighter pilot to shoot down a Fortress, had arrived at
Lae in April when he and 29 others were transferred from
Formosa. In his book Samarai he wrote: 'I groaned when I
circled the field. Where were the hangars, the maintenance
shops, the control tower? Where was anything but a dirty,
small runway?' Their command post had curtains for walls,
they had only three vehicles, including a fuel tanker, and 23
pilots and other NCOs had to share the single shack, lit by
candles. They had no early warning radar and their anti-
aircraft defences were manned by 200 naval ratings.
34
Anti-aircraft defences were active when Beaufighters and
Bostons went to Lae on 18 November and during that attack
the fuselage of A19-33 (Ron Uren and John Maguire) was
holed and the hydraulics of A19-4 (Brian Walker and John
Mason) were shot out, resulting in a superbly handled wheels-
up landing at Ward's by the C o m m a n d i n g Officer. A19-10
(Col Campbell and Jim Yeatman) didn't reach the target
because of mechanical trouble and it, too, made a wheels-up
landing at Ward's.
Sunday, 21 November, was a day of incredible activity
with 104 Allied fighters and bombers hammering Buna and
Gona, the latter being captured by Australian forces some 24
hours later. The Beaufighters did a particularly fine job
during their strike against Lae, the abbreviated mission report
noting that:
Two Zekes caught fire after strafing and pieces were seen to fly
from a third. Four Zekes were strafed near the south east end of
the runway. Three or four Zekes were airborne at 2,000 feet.
A19-9 (Ross Little and Alec Spooner) attacked a Zeke which
was attacking two other Beaufighters: its engine was smoking as
it turned away. A19-5 (Len Vial and Ralph Nelson) put a one-
second burst into a Zeke which had climbed under its nose to
attack another Beaufighter in front but was itself hit by anti-
aircraft fire in the port nacelle and tyre. A19-15 (Bob Brazenor
and Fred Anderson) was hit in the tail-wheel by machinegun
fire.
All available Beaufighters joined with 45 Fortresses, 44

Mitchells, 28 Marauders, a number of Bostons and a squadron
of Aircobras in concerted attacks against Japanese targets on
24 November for which the Wirraways of N o . 4 Squadron
provided the spotting. Sergeant George Anderson and his
team of armourers did a sterling job in attending to the
Beaufighter's cannon and machineguns, which fired 26,000
rounds of 2 0 m m ammunition and 35,000 rounds of 7.7mm
that day.
35
The Beaufighter's four cannons were mounted on the floor
of the fuselage, the breech blocks being midway between the
navigation station and the armour plate doors. For most of
the aircraft operating out of Moresby, the rounds were carried
in 12 removable drums, four being mounted on the cannons
and eight being held by storage clips on the ides of the
fuselage. Each drum weighted about 26kg and contained
enough rounds for about three bursts of fire. It fell to the
navigator to remove the empty drums and replace them with
full ones.
Fred Anderson found that changing the drums in the air
gave him a most torrid time. He had to uncouple his seat
harness, free himself from any belted ammunition dangling
from the rear gun, stow away his maps and other navigation
gear, lock his table in the 'Up' position, have a quick look
around for enemy fighters and then crawl forward. He then
had to free the empty drum, preventing it from rolling around
the floor and smashing into his knees, lift a full drum off its
stowage and lock it onto the cannon. And he had to do that
for each of the four cannons. At the time he would be draped
about with a web belt to which was attached his revolver and
holster, an ammunition pouch, a water bottle, a jungle knife
and a survival kit. Moreover, he would be trussed up in a
tight-fitting parachute harness over which would be strapped
the most awkward lifejacket ever designed.
The navigator had to get the four new drums on the
cannons in time for the pilot to fire them on the next pass at
the target and had to do all that while coping with the effects
of several 'G' and an aircraft being put through a steep
climbing turn as it pulled away from the target. No wonder
the navigators cursed the canon arrangements in the early
Beaufighters. Mild-mannered Bob Hasenohr came near to
blasphemy after badly skinning his knuckles while manually
cocking the cannons. Bill Davis normally flew in a Beaufighter
fitted with automatic binfeeds and became quite worried
when he had to fly in one fitted with drums; he was an
accomplished pianist and was concerned that he might lose a
finger while manipulating the drums or the cocking lever.
36
Squadron navigators had mixed opinions about the armour
plate doors located about halfway between the navigator and
his pilot — some liked them open, others liked them shut. Col
Harvey wasn't at all happy about them being shut because he
was then unable to see what was happening up at the front
end and the forward view during an attack was always
exiting. Jim Yeatman also liked to have them open, for he
then had a reasonable view through the front window of what
the aircraft was doing during a take-off or a landing. On the
other hand, John Bell liked to have the doors closed if for no
other reason than he simply wasn't all that interested in what
his pilot, Sid Wallace, was doing in the front cockpit. He
went south after a very short tour. Harold Kelly replaced him
in the crew and took it upon himself to close the doors when
they were chased by Zeros, 'in the belief that their fire might
eliminate me first, in which case that was that. But if they
missed me and got Scotty through the open doors . . . then
that meant the end of both of us.'
It is a tribute to the groundcrews that despite the heat,
dust, rain, appalling working conditions and their rather
primitive tools and facilities, they kept so many aircraft
serviceable and ready for operations. All of them slogged
away at their various jobs — the engine and airframe fitters/
riggers/mechanics, the instrument technicians, the wireless
musterings, the electricians and the men of the armament
section. All of those were most ably supported by the many
others in the administrative trades including the clerks, trans-
port drivers and fitters, cooks, messmen, stewards, storemen,
nursing orderlies and guards.
Although the Squadron had nearly 40 men on strength it
was a pretty lean unit when compared with American flying
units. The Fifth Air Force Statistics Book shows that 89 men
were required to keep one American aircraft operational: 5%
for aircrew, 2 1 % for maintenance, 15% for clerical, 11% for
ground transport, 11% for supply, 4% for messing plus men
for medical support, military police and other miscellaneous
activities.
37
CHAPTER FOUR
Tree-Topping Wave-Hopping
Warplanes
A BARE fortnight after No. 30 Squadron's arrival in New

Guinea, War Correspondent George Johnston wrote:
'The strength of Moresby is staggering — thousands of motor
trucks, new roads everywhere and seven magnificent airfields.
We could put 100 fighters in the air against a Jap raid. Huge
forces of modern bombers [are] now here.' Despite the nature
of the target offered by that concentration of military instal-
lations and units, the Japanese inflicted surprisingly little
damage during more than 100 raids. The first one involved
six flying boats which attacked at 3am on 3 February 1942,
and according to George Johnston 'one man [was] killed by a
flying stone while diving into a trench.'
On the fifth raid when they dropped 15 daisy-cutters he
said there had been negligible damage, and on the eighth raid
when 80 bombs were dropped they had 'damaged two tents
and ripped guttering from a roof.' On the thirteenth raid by
eight bombers, he said that the bombs were scattered in-
discriminately but caused absolutely no damage. On the
eighty-third raid against Moresby, one bomber came in just
after sunset and put his bombs in the scrub and there was no
damage then either.
Elton Marsden, an airframe fitter and a foundation member
of the Squadron said: 'After the first half-dozen raids brought
38
no damage or injuries, we became quite blase.' Jack Rawlinson
considered the attacks to be merely nuisance raids designed to
interfere with the men's sleep whilst John Dunstan maintained
that the raiders never caused much damage. 'There was
seldom any danger so most of the fellows just stood outside
their tents and watched the show — the searchlights, the
illuminated enemy planes and the tracers from our own guns.'
The fire from our anti-aircraft guns was often somewhat wide
of the mark, and the men of No. 30 Squadron were prone to
shout directions to the distant gunners — 'A little bit to the
left, mate . . . A little more . . . To the left, you bloody
drongo!'
Arthur Jaggs wasn't all that anxious to dive into his slit
trench and would only do so 'if it looked like they were going
to have a go at the camps in our valley.' Young Fred Cassidy
disliked the discomfort of his trench so he and Mos Morgan
took their canvas chairs outside to watch what was going
on — the searchlights and the anti-aircraft puffs providing
them with an interesting spectacle. Another navigator, George
Carnegie, also dragged out his chair and 'watched the enter-
tainment as if it was a football match.' Harry Suthons was
disinclined to move from his bunk at all when the Red Alert
was sounded and only if things got serious did he forgo a
session of spine bashing to crawl underneath his iron bedstead.
Most of the men slept in the raw and diving into a trench
while only half awake could result in extensive scratches and
abrasions to the skin. It could also provide a rude shock and
bring a man into instant wakefulness if the trench were half-
full of water. Moreover, a naked man who disturbed the red
spiders, centipedes and other creepy crawlies could get painful
bites in sensitive parts of his anatomy. Bob Bennett guarded
against that by using his 'flammerwoofer' every afternoon to
burn out the unwanted guests. There were other totally
unexpected guests too — like the small crocodile at the bottom
of the trench into which George Allum jumped one night
when half asleep. He jumped out again pretty smartly.
A medium anti-aircraft unit occupied the top of Ugava
39
Hill which was immediately behind the Squadron's camp
whose tents, buildings and vehicles were lacerated or punc-
tured by shrapnel from that Unit's Bofors. The falling shrapnel
does not appear to have injured anybody but a few of the men
received heart-stopping frights when bits of flying metal
struck their steel helmets. Reg Crowl popped his head up out
of the trench when he thought the action had subsided only to
have his helmet nearly knocked into space by a chunk of
shrapnel. Doug Raffen's blood ran cold when something hit
his helmet with a tremendous thump but was relieved to find
that it had been caused by Bob Hasenohr bashing his tin hat
with a rock. Bob was somewhat amused by his victim's
reaction.
There wasn't much in the way of amusement or entertain-
ment for the military personnel in Moresby. One of the main
after-hours activities enjoyed by the men of the Beaufighter
Squadron involved walking up the road to see the movies at
No. 22 Squadron's camp. The Bostons had arrived at Moresby
late in October, occupied a campsite near that of No. 30
Squadron and erected a cinema screen at the foot of a natural
amphitheatre. Films shown there during the closing weeks of
1942 included Sinners in Paradise — a very old movie which
starred John Boles and Madge Evans, They Knew What They
Wanted starring Charles Laughton and Carole Lombard and
Picadilly Jim which was billed as a romantic comedy.
Frank Sawtell didn't intend to put on a comedy turn for his
companions' amusement when he fell into an air raid trench
while they were returning to camp after a show at the Mobile
Works Squadron cinema. A few weeks later he was at an
American open air cinema when a parked vehicle rolled down
the slope of the amphitheatre scattering the audience and
causing them to 'stampede worse than any cattle rush I have
ever seen.' On New Year's Eve Don Angus and other airmen
from the Squadron's Wireless Section went across to 22
Squadron's camp to hear a band concert and see a few rounds
of boxing. Tom Phelan, a Canadian boxer who had joined the
RAAF and was on the messing staff of the Beaufighter
40
squadron, often acted as referee for such contests and in-
veterate gambler Cliff Clohesy always managed to win a
fistful of pound notes from American soldiers and aviators
when his friend officiated in the ring.
On the night of 5 December the entire crew of a battle
damaged Fortress were killed when their aircraft, returning
from an attack on Rabaul, crashed into a hill beside Ward's
Strip. 'It burst all over the hill. I never saw such a mess,'
wrote George Dusting. A few days later he went to the crash
site looking for a few aluminium scraps: 'There are still some
pieces of men lying about. They are not very fussy about
collecting them,' he wrote.
Correspondent Johnston reported that there were pieces of
bomb casings and splinters of shrapnel everywhere after three
bombers carried out a moonlight attack on Jackson's Strip.
And there were even more bits and pieces lying about after the
ninety-first Japanese raid on Moresby when two bombers
blew up the ammunition dump of the 808th American
Engineers on 30 November and destroyed a number of brand
new vehicles.
The official vehicle establishment of No. 30 Squadron when
it left Richmond was two utility vans, two panel vans, one
saloon car, two refuelling tankers, two ambulances, seven
tractors and three motorcycles. Nevertheless, the 389 men on
the personnel establishment never seemed to have transport
problems in New Guinea. Keith Eddison rode a motorbike
everywhere, often at speed and often with his navigator on the
pillion clinging on for dear life. Whenever Alan Laing could
get away from his duties in the Orderly Room he borrowed a
Harley Davidson and toured the military area. Ted Good,
who had been taught to ride a motorbike by Jack Thorne,
occasionally took a bike and sidecar to visit a cousin in the
3rd Australian LAA Group. Phil Edwards was wont to sign a
truck out in the evenings to take the aircrew to the pictures —
and invariably got himself lost. Eric Lusk often rode an
Indian down to the strip when he did the pre-flight checks
required by his pilot, George Gibson. Because Brian Walker
41
preferred to ride his motorbike everywhere, his navigator,
John Mason, had almost exclusive use of the staff car.
No. 30 Squadron became known as the Hydraulic Squadron
because its men would 'lift' anything — including motor
vehicles and motorbikes. Joe Erskine claims that before leaving
Townsville some of the airmen 'lifted' an American jeep, an
Australian Army utility and two BSA motorbikes. Arthur
Ferrier has it that he, Pat Cowen and Ron Morrison snaffled a
motorbike for Brian Walker on the understanding that nothing
would be done about the jeep they had already 'lifted' for
themselves. Don Bain is reputed to have 'acquired' a motor-
bike while he was on detachment at Milne Bay and freighted
it back in USAF transport as official RAAF cargo. Jim
Wilson was given a motorbike by a friendly supply sergeant in
one of the American depots but Adjutant Wearne insisted that
it be left outside his Orderly Room for his use. Ken Delbridge
saw three NCOs hide a jeep in the tall kunai grass near the
shower block and assumed an air of injured innocence when a
brace of American MPs questioned them about a stolen
vehicle. The Don Rs delivering classified envelopes to the
Intelligence staff always wheeled their machines into the tent
because the bikes of two previous riders had disappeared when
they had been left unattended outside. Ron Morrison recalls
that Don Bain gave Dick Beynon some tips about ways of
'acquiring' a personal machine and, lo, another bike was
outside their tent the very next morning.
Wally Navin, later Mentioned in Despatches, was nearly as
effective as Don Bain in getting his hands on items that his
comrades wanted in order to make cheir work easier or to
make their living conditions more pleasant. He shared a tent
with three other airmen: Jack Collins, who nearly fell out of a
Beaufighter when its floor hatch flew open during a test
flight; Lou Nott, who incurred the displeasure of Ted Good
because the pull-through was missing from its stowage in the
butt of his rifle and Harry Edwards, who was upset because
the needles in his housewife had gone rusty.
The Squadron's Medical Officer, Flight Lieutenant Bill
42
John Farquhar, 'Doc' Marsh, Leo Poole, Moresby, April 1943.
(Courtesy John Farquhar)
Marsh, strictly supervised the work of the camp hygiene

squad and saw that they cleared the grease traps at the
kitchen, burned out the latrine pits with a mixture of diesel
oil and kerosine and paid particular attention to the inside of
the wooden boxes that straddled the pits for that was a
43
favourite haunt of Red Back spiders. Spiders, centipedes and
the like also tended to hide inside a boot or shoe so it was
always a wise precaution to shake shoes before putting them
on. Adjutant Wearne omitted to do that and when Bill Marsh
dashed over to the source of agonised screams during the night
he found quite a large centipede hanging on to the end of the
Adjutant's toe. He was in considerable pain and had to be
given a shot of morphine which put him out for a few hours
but, according to some of the men, not for long enough.
Bill Marsh was universally liked and respected. He had
joined the Squadron at Richmond, travelled in the train to
Townsville and sailed to Moresby in the Taroona. He was
dismayed when he saw the campsite selected by the advance
party at Ward's Strip: it was in rough, low-lying country,
close to a stinking swamp, infested by flies during the day and
by mosquitoes after dark. He heartily approved of the new
campsite in June Valley where he set up his Sick Quarters on
the rise behind the messes. He was ably supported by his four
nursing orderlies—John Farquhar, Lionel Poole, George
Hamer and Leo Sheekey.
Aircrew had to take quinine tablets and everybody else had
to regularly take atebrin tablets. It was thought that aircrew
should avoid atebrin because it might have an adverse effect
on the heart. Some airmen tried to avoid taking atebrin
because it turned their skins yellow and might adversely affect
their virility but the Medical Officer stationed supervisors in
the Airmens' Mess to ensure that every man swallowed his
tablet. Despite that, Roy Brockman contracted a very serious
bout of malaria and spent some weeks in the Army General
Hospital at Koitaki. On the other hand, Ron Dorman managed
to avoid swallowing an atebrin tablet during his tropical tour
and never contracted the disease. The men were also en-
couraged to swallow salt tablets to replace the body salt lost
through sweating. Fred Cassidy disliked these intensely and
had attacks of nausea and retching after taking the tablets as
directed by the Medical Officer.
The Medical Officer and the Padre had much in common
44
as far as their work within the unit was concerned and
Norman Reeve thoroughly enjoyed Bill Marsh's company and
their discussions about events in June Valley. Norman had
arrived from Amberley on 7 October. He secured agreement
to preach a sermon at the Commanding Officer's weekly
parade but only after promising Brian Walker that it would
always be a short one. He conducted Sunday morning church
services, ran discussion groups in the evenings and gave advice
and comfort to those who came to his tent. He wandered
round the workplace and round the men's tents in order to
have a chat. He preferred to let them do most of the talking
and found, for the most part, that they wanted to talk about
their wives, families, girlfriends and what was going on back
at home. He became a good listener.
The Padre spent some of his time writing to the fellows'
wives, just to let them hear something about their husbands
from somebody else in the unit. He knew from their feedback
that they appreciated his efforts. Many of the aircrew gave
him letters addressed to their families and asked him to post
them home if they failed to return from an operation. Usually
they contained messages along the lines that although the
signatory fully expected to survive, if that were not the case he
wanted it known that his last thoughts would be of the
recipient of his letter.
When Norman was sent south with a serious bout of
malaria his place was taken by Reginald Kirby who had been
the minister of the Collins Street Baptist Church in Mel-
bourne. George Carnegie thought that the new Padre 'had the
gift of the gab,' spending a lot of time visiting men in their
tents and talking to the aircrew about their operational
experiences. But those activities appeared to be related to
collecting material for a book he was writing and which
eventually appeared as a thinly disguised account of happen-
ings within the Beaufighter unit to which he was posted for
chaplaincy duties. Few of the Squadron personnel regarded
the book in a favourable light. He failed to attract many to
his Sunday services. Half-a-dozen of his would-be congre-
45
gation walked up the road to attend the services conducted by
Padre Begby at No. 22 Squadron. And another group walked
down the road to No. 42 Operational Base Unit where there
was a likeable Salvation Army captain.
When, on 1 December, the captain of an RAAF Beaufort
reported that four enemy destroyers were steaming towards
Buna, six Beaufighters were ordered out to suppress the ships'
anti-aircraft fire while Fortresses were to carry out a bombing
attack. But the Americans did not show up at the rendezvous
so another flight of Beaufighters was sent out to make a night
attack, the targets to be illuminated by flares dropped from a
Hudson. At the debriefing, pilots expressed displeasure about
the orders for that mission: their night vision was so affected
by the bright light of the flares and the flashes from their own
cannons that they were unable to descend lower than 1000
feet to make their strafing runs, were unable to distinguish
the destroyers clearly, were unsure about their aircraft's
attitude in relation to the horizon and were not aware of any
results they had achieved.
Harry Suthons and Eric Lusk, indeed nearly everyone in the
Squadron, were aware that two of the cooks were gay. 'But
they were really nice guys who went out of their way to be
helpful,' said Eric. 'They both got terribly emotional when
we lost a crew to enemy action.' When Ron Morrison was
Orderly Sergeant and made the standard enquiry about com-
plaints at the evening meal, both 'Lola' and 'Brenda' com-
plained that the Canteen did not stock their favourite brand
of lipstick. In their spare time they baked scones and cakes for
hospital patients.
Other men made 'foreigners' to fill in their spare time. The
most popular craft activity involved fashioning brooches and
other trinkets from perspex retrieved from crashed aeroplanes.
Joe Arthur mounted an RAAF cap badge in perspex, Cyril
Green elected to try mounting American aircrew brevets and
Eric Turnbull tried his hand at making desktop holders for
photographs. A few others turned these spare time activities
into small money-making ventures. American servicemen had
46
wallets full of dollars and eagerly bought the pendants,
brooches, bracelets and other trinkets which Ted Bicknell
made from conch shells. They willingly paid $50 American
for the bracelets he made from silver sixpenny pieces which he
flattened, shaped into rectangles, polished and linked together.
Eric Hughes made perspex brooches from m m y badges. He
dipped a small piece of perspex into boiling water, impressed
the face of the metal badge into the back of the perspex and
removed it when it had cooled. He shaped the perspex,
bevelled its edges, applied coloured paints to the rear of the
impression, attached a spring-pin and finished off the brooch
by polishing it with fine steel wool and Five-in-One tooth-
paste which arrived in Red Cross parcels.
There were other entrepeneurs in No. 30 Squadron. Cliff
Maxwell sold cigarettes by the carton, Les Bromilow sold
American clothing, Cliff Clohesy sold the occasional bottle of
whisky (sent from Australia in a hollowed-out loaf of bread)
and Don Bain was the recognised provider of anything that
anybody required. Don Joyes equipped himself with a tattoo-
ing outfit and advertised his services to the Americans in
Moresby.
Discussing his time with No. 30 Squadron in Moresby, Fred
Anderson said: 'Our own soldiers often complained that we
were never around when they were in a tough position and
they probably doubted that their own Air Force was even in
New Guinea. So we were sent over to the Buna area to show
the troops that the RAAF was actually in the theatre and to
show them just what a Beaufighter could do. It was all low
level stuff and when we landed we found some leaves and
branches in our undercart.' A few days earlier a Beaufighter
had misread the Army's target marking signals and strafed a
company of Australian troops, 'without causing any casualties,'
wrote George Johnston, 'but causing a great deal of profanity.'
J.R. Hardie reported that because of the impassable terrain,
the Australian 39th Battalion was halted on a little beach to
the north of Sanananda on Thursday morning, 3 December,
when an unfortunate incident occurred:
47
Further up the coast some Beaufighters were strafing the beaches
and a sunken Japanese transport suspected of being an off-
loading point for supplies. I remember saying that I hoped those
RAAF blokes knew we were on that beach. Just then, one of the
Beaufighters straightened up to sweep along the beaches, and the
next minute, flame from the front of him — he'd opened up with
his guns and strafed virtually the whole battalion!
I can't understand how we got out of it so lightly. Providence
must have been with us. I was sitting on a fallen coconut tree
with about six others in line with this plane. When he opened up
with his machine guns we all took off. But there were bullets
hitting the ground all around us as we ran, and I thought that as
it wasn't much use running, I might as well stop. So I stopped
and the plane flew past. And out of it all, 'A' Company had only
one chap hit, and the rest of the Battalion only had four
wounded.
Late in December Padre Kirby dished out parcels sent up by

the Australian Comforts Fund and the men were most
appreciative of the preserved fruit, cigarettes, sweets and
homemade fruit cakes. However, many of them agreed with
Jeff Heath who wondered if the woolen balaclavas and
mittens in the parcels meant that the donors knew that N o . 30
Squadron would be moving from the tropics to a cold
weather base. The men were luckier than those in other RAAF
units at Moresby because 8 5 % of the shipment had been
pillaged. The Fund's representative in Moresby described the
thieves as 'the worst type of Fifth Columnists' and implied
that Australian wharfies were responsible for the theft of
nearly 80,000 cigarettes as well as crates of other welfare
items.
Christmas Day was not entirely work-free. Eric Lansell and
Harry Suthons (A19-30) led Jack Sandford and Arthur Jaggs
(A19-32), as well as Ron Downing and Danny Box (A19-53),
in a strike against targets on the Kumusi River. The remainder
of the Squadron turned out for a church parade at 7.30am,
dressed in boots, khaki shorts, shirts, stockings, steel helmet
48
and webbing belt, gas mask, rifle and side arm. The Com-
manding Officer read the lesson after which Padre Kirby
preached a thankfully short sermon. The officers and senior
NCOs gathered in the Airmens' Mess to serve them lunch —
roast pork, roast turkey, apple sauce, diced potatoes and green
peas followed by tinned fruit salad and cream and fruitcake.
'Wonder of wonders,' said Colin Horne, 'there on the table
were enough bottles of beer to let us have one mug each, being
provided by the aircrew in appreciation of our efforts.'
Owen Fenwick played suitable sentimental songs on the
Beale piano borrowed from the nearby Works unit and his
musical offerings were enhanced by the efforts of Alf Hunt
and Cecil Mitchell. Afterwards, Owen was invited to enter-
tain the Sergeants at their Christmas lunch, during which he
accepted more than a glass or two of some villainous alcoholic
brew. And after that, he was invited to entertain the officers
and aircrew at their Christmas dinner, during which he
accepted a glass or two of port; according to his tent-mates,
he was completely legless by mid-evening. Young Fred Cassidy
did not quite get to that stage as he managed to lurch across
to the tent occupied by the wireless operators, being stark
naked at the time.
By the end of that year there had been some changes in the
Squadron. Peter Parker had gone to Eastern Area Head-
quarters, Charles Read had gone to take command of N o . 31
Beaufighter Squadron, Des Moran-Hilford and Bob Harding
had gone to No. 5 Operational Training Unit, Earl Wild had
gone to a Fighter Sector, Wally Badman had gone to Rescue
and Communication Squadron, Dave Haddon had gone to 33
Squadron, Len Greenhill had gone to Townsville and Sid
Virgin had gone to 21 Base Wing. Norm Fraser had replaced
Bert Lee as Engineer Officer and Reg Kirby had replaced
Norm Reeve as Padre.
Five new crews had joined the Squadron since its arrival in
New Guinea: Bob Bennett and Phil Edwards, John Drummond
and Ron Allen, George Drury and Dave Beasley, George
Gibson and Eric Lusk, Gwynne Hughes and Bill Keller. Three
49
Norm Fraser, Engineering Officer, and bis Servicing Flight, Moresby,
February 1943. (Courtesy Ron Morrison)
uncrewed navigators had arrived during that time: Ron Shaw,

Les Hanks and Ron Sillett as well as two uncrewed pilots,
Bob Cummins and Eric Lansell. Eric had collected a Beau-
fighter from Laverton but when about half-way between
Charleville and Townsville on the delivery flight he became
quite distressed with an attack of malaria. Bob Bennett, who
was also going to No. 30 Squadron on posting in that aircraft,
managed to take over: 'I had the difficult job of hauling Eric
out of the pilot's seat and getting in it myself, not an easy task
in that small space, and made much more difficult because of
the need to operate the aircraft's flying controls as well.' Eric
probably had contracted that febrile disease while he was
with a Hudson squadron in Malaya and it may have been
because of his medical condition that he was repatriated from
New Guinea after a four month tour.
As the result of recommendations made by the various
flight and section commanders, a number of the men had been
promoted to fill the vacancies in the Squadron's Establish-
ment Table:
• To Temporary Flight Sergeant — Max Annetts, Gwynn
Davies, Andy Herron, R.H. Johnston and John Wilson.
• To Temporary Sergeant — Don Flemming, W.F. Higgerson,
Alan Laing, Bill Schofield and Abe Warhurst.
50
• To Temporary Corporal—J.E. Dunn, W.S. Harman,
D. Hattrick, S.B. McVernon, C.H. Metters, K. Morris,
W.K. Morley, T. Phelan and W.I. Taylor.
In the closing days of December two airmen were com-
mitted to the Naval Stockade for punishment: Joe Erskine
drove Adjutant Wearne, his Disciplinary Warrant Officer, and
the two offenders there in the staff car. An armourer had been
awarded seven days detention by the Commanding Officer for
being absent without leave on Boxing Day, an offence under
the Air Force Act, Section 15(2) and another armourer had
been awarded 28 days detention by the Commanding Officer
for being improperly in possession of a Colt revolver, the
property of Flight Sergeant Arthur Ferrier. He had been
charged under Section 40 of the Air Force Act.
Max Annetts and Bill Madden considered laying a charge
against Don Joyes for destroying Air Force property. Don had
cut a large poster of film star Carmen Miranda from a tarred-
paper dividing wall and the resulting hole allowed Adjutant
Wearne to see and hear what was going on in his Orderly
Room. Despite that close watch, the staff managed to alter
their personal records and give themselves increased leave
entitlements. Harry Underwood hadn't been able to take
leave between his posting from Townsville and his arrival at
the Squadron as its Cypher Officer and was made even more
unhappy by being appointed as Canteen Officer. However, he
consoled himself with the thought that he would not receive
the same number of complaints as Bob Harding, who had
been promulgated as Officer-in-Charge of the Airmens' Mess.
No. 30 Beaufighter Squadron had flown 302 hours during
December and had fired nearly 155,000 rounds of ammunition
at the enemy during that month. Praise was heaped on the
Squadron in an article in the Sun under the headline 'Grim
Killers of Japs — Beaufighter's Record':
When the full story of the Japanese back-to-Tokyo is written the

part played by Australian-manned Beaufighters in the New
51
Guinea campaign will provide some of its most shining chapters.
Americans who have flown alongside these devil-may-care young
Australians have applauded their dash, disregard of the odds,
and determination in driving home an attack.
The story of the tree-topping wave-hopping Beaufighters
begins in the rain, mud, slime and malaria of Port Moresby in
September. Although inadequately sheltered, tormented by
mosquitoes and improperly fed, the Beaufighter boys had their
aircraft ready in three days for the first of hundreds of devastating
sorties. The amazing firepower of the Beaufighter has probably
inflicted more Japanese casualties than any other type of aircraft.
It can deliver more than a third of a ton of lead every minute and
can concentrate more canon and machine gun fire than can a
Fortress or a Liberator.
The Japs began a very costly acquaintance with the Beaufighter
when the AIF was smashing its way towards Buna. The soldiers
told the Beaufighter pilots the location of the enemy troops, and
the co-operation was so harmonious that although the aircrews
never saw the Japanese in the jungle, they killed them in their
hundreds. Following through, our Army lads found the areas
strafed by the Beaufighters to be littered with enemy dead.
Through the festering jungle, over which the aircraft flew low
enough to set the tree-tops quivering, the Beaufighters left a long
trail of enemy dead, of blasted installations, silent anti-aircraft
positions, mangled equipment, and charred equipment.
The history of the Beaufighters is rich with colourful person-
alities such as Wing Commander 'Blackjack' Walker, George
Sayer, and 'Torchy' Uren. But no story of these aircraft is
complete without referring to their navigators, who are noted
for their skill and versatility.
52
CHAPTER FIVE
Bully Beef & Dog Biscuits
T HE New Year was ushered in by heavy rain and the

firing of nearly every ack-ack gun in Moresby plus
thousands of automatic weapons, rifles and handguns. The
43rd Engineering Regiment contributed to the rowdy occasion
by detonating sticks of gelignite whilst trucks sounded their
horns and the ships in the harbour blew their sirens. At the No.
30 Squadron camp the occasion was marked by the consumption
of jungle juice brewed especially to mark the event and,
judging by the noise emanating from the tents occupied by
Norm Carroll and other transport drivers, theirs was a
particularly potent concoction. A few hours after breakfast on
New Year's Day a signal came in from Air Force Headquarters
to say that commissions had been granted to three aircrew —
Harry Suthons, Len Vial, and Col Campbell—providing the
excuse for more celebrations.
Although by official edict no unit in New Guinea had a
wet canteen and the island was supposed to be dry, it was
standard practice for every Beaufighter being ferried up from
Australia to bring a small supply of liquor. The amount had
to be small because priority was given to urgently needed
aircraft spares and to desperately needed fresh fruit and
vegetables. The aircraft brought a few bottles of spirits rather
than the bulkier crates of beer.
53
Self-help became the order of the day and homemade
'jungle juice' became the flavour of the month. Every second
tent seemed to contain some bubbling brew made from
raisins, currants, dates, coconut milk or whatever else could
be added to give it more punch. Some brews were potent and
disgustingly awful, some were likened to camel urine and
were so bad that even the most hardened imbiber would boast
about how glad he would be when he got to the bottom of his
enamel mug.
Bill Madden was the principal brewer in the tent occupied
by the Orderly Room staff — Alan Laing, M a x Annetts and
Jim Turner. According to Alan, Bill's product was ghastly
stuff but it certainly was highly intoxicating. Bill Marsh was
well aware of the cause when airmen presented at his morning
sick parades with what they called upset stomachs. He was
very concerned when he learnt that a group of airmen in
another unit had set up a small distilling plant — their product
was not only very alcoholic but very dangerous because its
high methyl alcohol content could cause blindness.
Novice brewers Bob Cummins and Allan Kirley got a
concoction fermenting in a kerosine tin but unfortunately
screwed the cap down with the result that the whole lot
exploded and blew out the canvas side of their tent during the
night.
A friendly technician brought a bottle of jungle juice to
Cress Clarke's birthday gathering and after seeing that all his
guests were served, Cress happened to look at the bottle. A
host of maggots was wriggling about in the bottom. Not
wishing to offend the donor, he surreptitiously upset the
bottle and let it roll away, thankful that he had noticed the
squirming mass before taking a drink himself. He thought it
best not to inform the imbibers that there was anything amiss
and they all professed to have enjoyed the celebratory occasion.
After slogging away in the tropical heat some of the men
looked forward to relaxing with a mug of fruit juice laced
with a tot of jungle juice but it sometimes happened that
those quiet occasions developed into nights of noisy revelry as
54
more and more of the mixture was consumed. In time, some
sentimental ballads would be sung, perhaps followed by some
of the current hit tunes and, at a later stage, by the kind of
songs usually sung at all-male gatherings. Authorities believed
that the coarseness of servicemens' songs helped the men to
relieve stress and release some of the pent-up hostility they
might harbour towards the organization that had separated
them from their families and deposited them in some ghastly
hole far from their homes. Unable to control their own lives,
they turned to ribald song to express their contempt for their
superiors and the inanities of service life.
In a message to his superiors in Washington during January
1943, General MacArthur said that he didn't have enough
ground or air forces to implement his planned onslaught
against the Japanese in the South West Pacific Area. 'The air
force as now constituted is not sufficient to support the
offensive which is contemplated,' he said. 'Our experience in
offensive operations over the enemy's territory . . . through
the most difficult tropical weather provides ample sub-
stantiation that existing strength is capable of only a short
intensive effort.'
Nevertheless, the Air Staff at Operational Group saw to it
that the Beauf ighters kept up the pressure against the Japanese
and on the second day of the New Year sent them on a joint
mission against small boats near Lae. On the return flight the
seven Beaufighters separated in order to make individual
crossings of the Owen Stanley Range which was capped by
towering cumulus clouds. Squadron personnel at Ward's were
dismayed when Dick Roe and Peter Fisken failed to appear
that afternoon but it transpired that the pilot had insufficient
oxygen for a high level flight through The Gap so had gone
down to Gurney and stayed there for the night.
The following day three Beaufighters were sent to a sus-
pected seaplane base and the day after that seven aircraft
expended 1,400 rounds of 20mm and 15,000 rounds of
7.7mm in an attack on an enemy camp near Mubo. Aircraft
were sent out again on 5 January to strafe barges and targets
55
of opportunity between Salamaua and Lae and were sent out
again on the two following days.
Eric Lansell and Harry Suthons in A19-30 led 10 other
Beaufighters to attack barges near Lae on 8 January but the
aircraft had to wait until the Mitchells, Bostons and
Marauders had dropped all their bombs. In the meantime, a
Beaufighter element went to Lae aerodrome and destroyed
one of the two Zekes parked on the east side of the runway.
Another six Zekes tried to intercept the Beaufighters but were
driven off by the the Lighting top cover, which shot down
two of the enemy fighters. At the debriefing back at base the
crews told Stan Hutchinson that they had seen three transport
vessels, three destroyers and one cruiser.
Later that day Ross Little and Alec Spooner in A19-28 led
eight Beaufighters in another attack on Lae, the abbreviated
mission report noting that:
Enemy fighters made individual attempts to intercept and three

Beaufighters were attacked. A19-33 [Uren and Maguire] hit by a
.5 from a Zeke. A19-38 [Gibson and Lusk] and A19-50 [Morgan
and Cassidy] hit by a .5 too. Night fighters near control tower
left burning, two fighters on opposite side of runway were hit,
four other fighters, previously strafed, were strafed again, a
serviceable Betty on the taxiway was strafed and left smoking,
eight tents behind the Terrace and six men at the north-east end
of the strip were strafed. An ammunition dump exploded after
strafing.
Eric Lusk, who was the navigator of one of the three aircraft
attacked by the enemy that day, had this to say:
We had flown out past Salamaua after our attack at Lae, right
down on the deck — in fact we were so low that if our undercart
had been down we would have drenched our tyres with sea water
. . . Around about Salamaua I saw about six Zeros in a dive
towards us and when they levelled out they were only a few
hundred yards behind us. George Gibson had turned the taps full
56
on and we scooted away flat out, being chased and fired at every
now and then for about 30 miles. That they couldn't catch us
gave me a lot of confidence in our Beaufighter and in my pilot.
Jack Sandford and Arthur Jaggs were in A19-32 which, in

company with two other Beaufighters doing an armed recon-
naissance along the coast from Salamau on 12 January, fired
at a collection of camouflaged small craft hidden by overhang-
ing trees. At the debriefing they made no claim about damage
they might have inflicted but the next day the following
signal was received from General Whitehead:
A reliable source states that 'During the strafing of East Island

on the morning of 12 January the aircraft's accuracy was deadly.
Several small craft were damaged and smoke was seen rising
from the hideout.' This is one of the quite frequent occasions on
which the pilots have seen no movement or effect of their attack
and would probably consider their mission was of no value,
whereas in fact it was most successful. Whitehead.
Just t w o days after that encouraging message the Squadron's

morale plummeted when Bruce Stephens and Stewart Cameron
were killed shortly after taking off and signalling that they
were returning to base because of a faulty rudder control.
During the attempt to land, A19-14 crashed into the ground
about 100 metres from where Bruce Robertson and other men
from the Wireless Section were laying telephone cables at the
end of Ward's Strip. With three other Beaufighters, led by Cec
McKew and Ted Lasscock, the crew of the crashed aircraft
had been going to participate in a barge sweep along the coast
from Salamaua. Bruce Stephens had joined the Squadron at
Richmond after finishing his Beaufort conversion course at
East Sale. He and Stewart had taken part in the Squadron's
second mission after its arrival in N e w Guinea, when a
formation of Beaufighters had strafed mule packs carrying
supplies to the Japanese in their push from Kokoda to
Moresby. At his death, he had flown 21 operational sorties
57
and these included attacks on shipping from Rabaul, ack-ack
at Buna, barges near Sanananda, Lae and the Kumusi River
and aircraft on the ground at Lae.
Stewart had arrived at Richmond about 10 days later than
Bruce, after graduating as a Wireless Air Observer on com-
pletion of his course at No. 2 Bombing & Gunnery School,
Port Pirie. He had confided in Joe Green (one of the mechanics
on his aircraft) that when the Squadron was being formed at
Richmond he had been aware that Bruce might not be a
top-notch pilot. He had elected to fly with him as a navigator
because he regarded him as a delightful person whose company
and friendship he would enjoy — both in the air and on the
ground.
Stewart's death was particulary distressing to Fred Anderson
for he and Stewart had gone through their wireless, navigation,
gunnery and Beaufighter training together. Bruce, who was a
rather clever chap, had taken Fred under his wing and had
given him private tuition in mathematics and navigation.
Fred was down at Ward's Strip with two other navigators
when the fatality occurred. 'The Beaufighter just blew up,'
Fred said, 'as we stood near the strip watching it, all helpless
as they burned to death — a dreadful sight which I'll never
ever forget.'
Flight Lieutenant Cyril Wilfred Wearne was appointed as
the senior member of the Committee of Adjustment to deal
with the personal and public effects of the aircrew who had
perished in that aircraft accident on 15 January. The squadron
commander had a high regard for his Adjutant who had been
a public servant in the New South Wales Department of
Agriculture before the war. Adjutant Wearne willingly and
conscientiously took much of the routine administrative work
on his shoulders, thereby allowing Brian Walker to devote
more time to flying and operational matters.
There weren't too many in the Squadron who disliked the
Adjutant, although most of them thought he tended to be
rather stiff, was a stickler for 'good Air Force order and
discipline' and did everything according to Kings Regulations
58
and Air Force Orders. John Mason had a lot of time for him
but believed that because the Adjutant was older than nearly
everybody else, he may have felt unable to join in the
demanding activities of the young members of aircrew. Fred
Cassidy thought that the Adjutant was nothing short of a
gentleman, who was never heard to say a hard word about
anybody. In his opinion the Squadron was most fortunate in
having such an able man in charge of administrative matters
and that Flight Lieutenant Wearne was a 'great opposite
number for Wing Commander Walker.'
'Split Pin' Wearne, Adjutant, and John Mason, navigator, Moresby,

December 1942. (Courtesy Brian Walker)
Variously known as 'Curly' or 'Split Pin' because of certain
physical characteristics, the Adjutant had a deep, booming
voice and nearly everybody in the camp area could hear him
call out from his tent about a message that he wanted
circulated — 'Pass the word, Mr Good. Pass the word.'
Disciplinary Warrant Officers seldom win popularity tests
within their units but Ted Good, who had joined the Squadron
at Richmond on posting from No. 5 Service Flying Training
School at Uranquinty, was not regarded as being a hard,
heavy-handed or over-bearing individual. Ron Morrison got
on reasonably well with him, as did Andy Herron and Wally
59
Bell. So did Alan Laing whose work in the Orderly Room
brought him into close contact with Mr Good — a stocky
fellow who always wore a forage cap, set centrally on his head
and tipped forward.
Bruce Robertson considered that although the Warrant
Officer was something of a rough diamond and could make it
quite clear that he was the boss around the unit, he was a
good-hearted chap. Nevertheless, the sight of Bruce and other
wireless operators lying in bed at 10am offended him, even
though he was well aware that the fellows had been on a late
night shift.
The Warrant Officer had an exceptionally good memory
and not only knew everyone in the Squadron but also knew
what everyone was up to. For instance, he knew that Cliff
Clohesy ran a two-up school behind the messes but turned a
blind eye to that activity after he had satisfied himself that
the game was straight-up.
Neither Warrant Officer Good nor Flight Lieutenant Wearne
were at all amused by the action taken against an unpopular
member of the Squadron by John Laverty and John Evans.
They secreted a contact strip on the seat of a thunderbox and
wired it to a megga they borrowed from their radio section.
When the victim lowered his bare behind on to the seat, the
perpetrators furiously wound the handle of the instrument,
'giving him quite a tingle in his exposed rear,' according to
the airmen hidden in the nearby kunai grass. A week or so
after that incident, a member of the hygiene squad tossed the
usual mixture of diesel oil and kerosine down the pit.
Forgetting the explosive nature of the mixture, he leaned over
the hole in the box as he tossed the match down and was
lucky to lose only his eyebrows.
Operational activity continued on Monday, 18 January,
when the Commanding Officer led 14 of his Beaufighters in
yet another attack on Lae. They started widespread fires in
the coconut plantation opposite Jacobsen's Plantation and as
the aircrew could see thick black smoke rising into the air
when they were nearly 40km away about an hour later, they
60
believed they had blown up a large fuel d u m p . After that
attack, Brian Walker (A19-75) sent eight aircraft back to base
while he led George Drury and Dave Beasley (A19-34) and
John D r u m m o n d and Ron Allen (A19-48) in an attack
against enemy troops seen on Mangrove Island. The Mission
Report read as follows:
Approached Lae from Markam Valley. After run over target by

our first flight, 3 shots fired by heavy ack-ack from western end
of strip as an Air Raid warning. Light, inaccurate Bofors fire
from north-eastern end of strip. Moderate amount of machinegun
fire from the foreshore terrace and the eastern end of the strip.
Widespread fires started among the trees opposite to Jacobsen's.
It appeared to be a large fuel dump and was seen an hour later
from 25 miles distant to be still burning. The strip areas at
Diddyman's and Jacobsen's were both well strafed, as well as
possible serviceable fighters in No. 4 blast bay, and a pile of
boxes between bays No. 3 and 4 were strafed. Results not
observed. No other serviceable aircraft in the area. At Malahang,
two groups of huts two miles north-east of the strip were
strafed, as well as some trucks about one mile north of the strip.
Results not observed. Sighted one dummy and two unserviceable
Zekes in a clearing at the north end of the strip. Nil activity seen
during coastal reconnaissance via Finschaven to Wild Bay. Roads
near Finschaven appear well used. The strip had two bomb
craters in the centre and did not appear to have been used
recently. Expended 2,000 rounds 20mm, 10,500 rounds 7.7mm.
Firing the 2 0 m m cannons affected the magnetism of the blast

tubes. Dealing with Beaufighter operations in Burma, David
Innes wrote ' T h e effect of firing cannons and machineguns
was considerable on the aircraft compasses, throwing them
out by some 50 degrees at times.' Col Harvey reported a
similar effect on aircraft in his squadron but found that if,
after an attack, the cannons were fired while heading north,
the compasses might return to normal. If that action failed
then the navigator had to go through the dreary chore of
61
adjusting the compasses on the ground — a task for which the
help of George Carnegie was especially valued.
A few navigators became upset when their aircraft missed
their destinations and blamed their pilots for not maintaining
the compass heading they had been given. However, the fault
lay not with the pilot but with the large jungle-knife strapped
to his lower right leg — an excellent position for that mag-
netised hunk of metal to interfere with the pilot's magnetic
compass. Chas Harris found that strapping the knife to his
left leg solved that particular problem.
In a barge sweep along the coast from Salamaua on the 23
January, Ron Downing and Danny Box in A19-53 attacked
five difficult-to-see and well camouflaged barges but couldn't
call the other Beaufighters in to finish the job because of a
radio failure. A week later, Ron Downing and Danny Box
were involved in a more dramatic incident while attacking
Japanese ground forces attempting to capture Wau. An Aus-
tralian Army unit had marked the target area with smoke
bombs and Downing's attack with his 20mm incendiaries
blew up a large ammunition dump, throwing up a huge
amount of debris in his path. In consequence, A19-53 came
home with one large hole and 58 smaller ones in the starboard
mainplane and many more in the fuselage.
Gwynn Davies and Wally Edwards soon got their Servicing
Flight fitters and riggers on the job of replacing the damaged
wing, amid a degree of discontent which had spread through
the Squadron's groundstaff who thought that the posting
authorities had forgotten them entirely. The Squadron had
been in New Guinea for some considerable time before the
official word came through that they would have to spend 15
months there before being relieved.
The first rumour to surface suggested that the men would
go home in three months but as time went by and successive
rumours did not result in southern postings, some men
became quite depressed, an attitude which worsened after
periods of intense activity and putrid weather. The men of the
Servicing Flight often slogged away at their work down on
62
the strip from 7am to 6.30pm and most of them agreed with
Roy Meers who couldn't make out why 'Air Board doesn't
recognize our hard work and get us out of this place.' They
were not to know that the paucity of personnel resources
acted against their early repatriation; in March 1943, for
instance, No. 9 Operational Group was 1,072 airmen below
its authorized strength, a figure which increased to 2,005 by
June of that year.
The men were also unhappy about the poor standard of
their meals; they were of the opinion that the quality and
variety of food served to them in New Guinea was little
different from that doled out to their fathers at Gallipoli.
Most of the stuff was either tinned or dehydrated — bully
beef, meat and vegetables, frankfurts, herrings in tomato
sauce, peas, potatoes, carrots, and egg powder (for which a
number of powdering plants in China had been dismantled
and re-assembled in Australia) and dog biscuits. The latter
were about 75mm square and 6mm thick, with a texture and
taste resembling chipboard and unless thoroughly soaked in
tea or gravy they could damage the plate and teeth of anyone
wearing dentures.
The meals were grossly deficient in nutritional value but it
was their monotony that caused rumblings of discontent —
the more so because the men believed that other Australian
Army and Air Force units were getting better fare. Tom
Mitchell, an experienced cook of many years standing, main-
tained that the rations provided to the Squadron by the
Australian Army at Moresby were the poorest he had ever
come across, and commented:
Tinned bully beef or tinned mutton — fair quality; could be used

cold or in stews, casseroles, hash or fritters. Tolerated by most
men.
Tinned meat and vegetables — fair quality (known as virgin
meat and a reward was payable if any meat was found).
Tinned herrings in tomato sauce — were heartily disliked by
everyone. (Known as pregnant goldfish.) Often smothered in
63
fresh onions and tomato paste and covered with mashed potatoes.
Tinned bacon — passable.
Tinned butter — rancid, unusable.
Tinned corn — not at all popular.
Tinned sausages — often blew up in the heat.
Tinned fruits — excellent; everybody liked them. These fruits
were served with 'cream' made from dried milk and cornflour.
Dried cabbage — very good.
Dried peas — quite good.
Dried carrots — good; eaten (reluctantly) by aircrew because they
were said to improve eyesight.
Dried potatoes — lousy; covered in a glue-like substance and had
always to be soaked for eight hours before use.
Dried milk — good.
Jam — melon, plum and apricot — well liked.
Golden syrup—popular.
Rolled oats — used for morning porridge; liked by a fair few.
Egg powder — served as scrambled eggs with tomato sauce; not
very popular.
Sergeant Bill Grogan, although a competent N C O in charge

of the catering arrangements, could do little to improve the
standard of meals, nor could his cooks devise ways of making
the rations supplied to them into palatable and diverse meals.
Bill D o r r i n g t o n , Duncan H a t t r i c k , Charlie M i l l s , Bill
N e w t o w n and Robert Vidler were among the cooks w h o
worked in the messes at June Valley.
Tom Mitchell looked after the lunches served to the
groundstaff down at Ward's Strip. He started his day at 4 a m
by kick-starting the motorbike and using its headlights to
provide illumination in the oil-fired mobile kitchen outside
the Airmens' Mess. Then he prepared breakfast for the day
cooks, prepared the midday meals he would be serving down
at Ward's, took the meals down to the strip, cleaned up when
lunch was over and knocked off at 2pm.
Resourceful airmen discovered an Army supply depot at the
19 Mile and, by various ruses, acquired a variety of tasty
64
At the mobile kitchen on Ward's Strip, Moresby, February, 1943.
(Courtesy John Mason)
comestibles for themselves. Don Angus was delighted when he

'acquired' five cases of tinned tomatoes and two cases of
tinned peaches but another airman was dismayed to discover
that he had 'acquired' four cases of tinned carrots. On another
occasion a group of the Squadron's musicians volunteered to
put on a show for the staff at the depot and while they were
on stage entertaining the soldiers their raiding party was at
the back of the depot loading case after case of goodies onto
their truck. 'We enjoyed many suppers after that,' said the
leader of the foray, 'and relished the asparagus, apricots,
pears, peaches, pineapples, and plums — topped off with
Nestles cream or condensed milk.'
The men recognized that the messing staff did their best
with the rations provided and were aware that there was a
limit to the ways that bully beef or tinned herrings could be
served up, as indicated by the following verse attributed to
'Blackie':
We know how he'd wish to improve the goldfish he has to dish

up for our tea,
65
And we know he can't fashion better meals from our ration or
give us fresh fish from the sea.
'Tis the silliest of sooks that would curse our real treasure, and
bring smaller measure-
So .. . never go crook at the cooks.
The Japanese continued their air attacks on Moresby instal-

lations during January. The Lightnings drove a flight of
attacking aircraft away on the night of 13 January but they
were unable to take-off in time to make an interception for
the formation which came over two nights later. Enemy
bombs landed about 200 metres away from the Squadron
Operations Room and behind the hill at the eastern edge of
the campsite. Although the Air Raid alarm was given the
following night, no enemy aircraft appeared. However, the
alarm sounded on five separate occasions on the night of
Saturday, 23 January, the first being at 10pm and the last
being at 5am the next morning. They made their next attack
on 25 January when they dropped daisy-cutters on Jackson's
Strip and demolished a DC3 loaded with stores that the
'biscuit bomber' was scheduled to drop to forward Australian
troops. 'The ack-ack gave the raiders hell,' wrote one of the
airmen, 'and the searchlights picked them up nicely. One shell
burst between two of their machines and separated them
rather forcibly. It was a pretty sight but the time was 3.30am,
the mossies were bad and the shrapnel was fallings, so we
didn't appreciate the show.'
Searchlights and guns were active again at 3.30am on
Wednesday, 27 January when three bombers delivered an attack
that had serious consequences for No. 30 Squadron. George
Dusting wrote in his diary: 'The lights picked them up right
over our heads and we could hear a Lightning screaming in
from behind them. The Japs let go their bombs right over our
heads and they fell fair and square in our " A " Flight
dispersals.' In the early light of dawn nearly everyone went
down to the strip to see what had happened. Beaufighter
A19-55 (which Len Vial and Ralph Nelson had come to
66
regard as 'their' machine) went up in smoke from a direct hit
whilst three others were damaged by flying shrapnel; A19-28
was badly damaged and was sent to No. 15 Repair and
Salvage Unit but the Squadron was able to repair A19-34 and
A19-73. The former had been flown by George Drury and
Dave Beasley earlier that week in a barge sweep near Salamaua
and was written off about two months later after crashlanding
on return from a strike against Gasmata. A19-73 was also
written off some months later when it crashed into the sea
during a weapons exercise against the Moresby wreck.
Alan Laing, a flight mechanic from Gulgong, feared for his
life every time he had to assist Sergeant Wally Edwards to test
a petrol tank taken from a battle damaged Beaufighter. The
sergeant first filled the tank with water so he might visually
detect any holes, after which he applied a naked flame to the
filling hole to determine if the tank held any petrol fumes. If
it did, it would explode.
Living in a small tent for so long meant that each occupant
had to be accommodating as far as the wishes, temperaments
and sensitivities of the others were concerned. In most cases,
those who shared such cramped living quarters enjoyed the
companionship of the others and became good friends. Jack
O'Donnell (a flight rigger from Molong) shared a tent with
Ken Walker (an airframe fitter from Gosford), Athol Hewitt
(an instrument maker from Hobart) and Ken Golledge (an
engine fitter from Maitland). These four became firm friends
and made their tent a pleasant and comfortable place in
which to spend their off-duty hours.
After their evening meal, which included roly-poly and
mock custard, Phil Edwards, Ron Allen, Jack Evans, Bruce
Robertson, Don Angus, nearly all the aircrew and many of the
airmen, went to Murray Barracks on 29 January to see
Captain Jim Davidson's production All In Fun. The company
had been a great success when it had toured Egypt, Palestine,
Syria and Transjordan, where it had been known as the
Middle East Concert Party.
Rex Dawe compered the two-hour show and its 21 items of
67
song, dance, sketches and 'swing' were enthustiastically
applauded. Corporals Laurence Brooks, John Willard and
Jack White were the principal vocalists whilst Staff Sergeant
Fred Meredith was the comedian in the party. Sergeant Wally
Portingale's swing band kept the tempo fast and smooth and
their efforts greatly contributed to a highly successful and
well-received show. Professional finish was apparent in the
lighting and the stage effects as well as among the talented
artists.
There were talented musicians serving in No. 30 Squadron,
too. Owen Fenwick was an accomplished pianist and in 1942
entertained members of the three messes at their Christmas
dinners. Cec Mitchell was an excellent saxophonist who had
been a member of the Australian Broadcasting Commision's
saxophone quartet. Alf Hunt did duty as a percussionist,
having been a drummer in a town band in northern New
South Wales. Cress Clarke had learnt to play the saxophone
by ear and had taken his instrument to New Guinea; he was
accorded the privilege of playing with the professionals in
Tom Davidson's band during its tour of military units in New
Guinea. Bill Davis — a navigator who flew with Fred Catt —
was another outstanding pianist who had a particular interest
in jazz and an intimate knowledge of the music of Fats
Waller. Abe Warhurst, one of the senior armourers in the
Squadron, had taken his piano accordion to Moresby and
often delighted audiences in June Valley with some lively
music. And the man who could very nearly make his guitar
talk was one of the Squadron's cooks — Duncan Hattrick.
John Butler, who was a member of the Electrical Section,
thought he had a good voice and would burst into song at the
drop of a hat, entertaining his tent-mates with operatic airs,
popular ballads and top-of-the-charts numbers. In addition to
singing the occasional topical ditty in the Airmens' Mess or at
concerts held at the Mobile Works camp, Frank Simpson
played his ukelele/guitar with amazing zest.
Every now and then these musicians would get together for
impromptu sessions in the June Valley camp; sometimes they
68
went to other units and performed from the backs of trucks or
from impromptu stages. Flying Officer Leslie Sims had been a
musical arranger with the Australian Broadcasting Com-
mission and was most helpful to the musicians in the Squadron.
Bruce Robertson and Ewen Blackman were the principal
vocalists although they were sometimes joined by Duncan
Hattrick.
During the short break in the train trip from Richmond to
Townsville, Cress Clarke and Alf Hunt had wandered into the
Brisbane City Hall and found a piano behind some curtains in
the auditorium. Cress sat down at the keyboard and his
impromptu playing was accompanied by Alf Hunt who kept
up the beat by thumping on the seat of a wooden chair. When
a stagehand drew back the curtain the airmen were surprised
to find that the auditorium was filling with people arriving
for a community singing concert. The embarassed musicians
were given a round of applause and quickly left the stage. In
New Guinea, one of the No. 30 Squadron officers arranged for
them to play at the Moresby Officers' Club two nights a week
in return for meals ordered from the Club's menu — roast
pork, baked potatoes, fresh fish, apple pie and cream, chilled
paw paw and other delectables. If General Herring was dining
at the Club they made a point of playing the number he had
requested at their first performance — 'The Anniversary Waltz'.
Two of the navigator fraternity were also able to turn out
some music. Fred Anderson had taken a hand-wound gramo-
phone with him to the war zone but had omitted to take a
supply of records. He had only two vinyl 78rpm platters —
'Lead Kindly Light' and 'Abide With Me'. Bob Hasenohr had
taken a portable HMV gramophone with him but he had an
even more limited record collection than Fred — 'The Anni-
versary Waltz'. Every time Bruce Robertson hears that number
he is reminded of the young South Australian lad who played
it nearly every evening until he was fatally injured in a
Beaufighter crash on Ward's Strip.
The situation at the strip was gradually improving. Sergeant
Anderson, assisted by LACs Burton, Clifford, Dawson, Farren,
69
Hamilton, McKenzie, Rapsey, Samuels and others, had
managed to establish a reasonable set-up for their Armament
Section. Flight Sergeant Lockwood, assisted by Sergeant
Robinson, LACs Carman, Joyes, Kean, Lambert, Leverett,
Roach, Walsh and others had achieved a similarly satisfactory
set-up for their Electrical Section. Additionally, they had
installed some home comforts — including a shower unit,
which they obligingly shared with the fellows in the adjacent
photographic section. Don Joyes had constructed a box which
incorporated a number of appropriate switches, sockets and
meters and which, when plugged into a Beaufighter, could
give him an overall picture of the aircraft's electrical health.
The men of Servicing Flight were still working as hard as
ever. Cliff Cotterill, George Dusting, Alf Fienberg, Don
Fleming, Eric Hughes, Alec Jenkins, Viv Mansell, Charlie
Metters, Kitch Morris, Eric Tuckwell and Wally Rhodes
were, at various times during the month, engaged in the
servicing and maintenance of A19-6, A19-9, A19-10, A19-
27, A19-37 and A19-38. George Dusting was responsible for
the cylinder and oil group of A19-9. The engine fitters
working on A19-37 found that the new motor they were
supposed to instal was corroded so they used a motor from
A19-28 — one of the aircraft that had been damaged in the
raid on 28 January. Tropical downpours continued to inhibit
progress and there were times when the men felt as if they
were sloshing about in a sodden cowyard.
Aircraft refuelling had been a problem during the Unit's
first few months in New Guinea. The Squadron had brought
two refuelling tankers to Moresby and while these may have
been suitable for a flying training school, they were totally
inadequate in an operational environment where up to 14
aircraft might have to be refuelled after returning from a
mission. The situation was exacerbated at Moresby because,
initially, petrol had to be hand-pumped from 200 litre drums
into the tanker — an extremely slow process which adversely
affected aircraft turnaround time. Corporal Roger Passfield,
one of the unit's aircrafthands, had appointed himself as a
70
tanker driver and fulfilled his responsibilities diligently and
cheerfully. He was later Mentioned in Despatches for his
untiring efforts in that regard.
The Squadron still had to use the hand-operated wind-up
aircraft jacks and these had the disadvantage that if one of the
operators wound his handle a bit faster than the other, the
apparatus would jam, usually meaning that they had to start
all over again and try to keep in step. During one of his visits
to a Liberator squadron Jim Wilson picked up a pair of
hydraulic jacks which he believed were 'surplus to their
requirements' and these made the job easier and faster.
71
CHAPTER SIX
Life at the June Valley Camp
J ANUARY 1943 had been a popular month for senior officers

to vacate their offices in Melbourne and inspect RAAF
units in New Guinea. Visitors to the Squadron included Air
Vice-Marshal Jones, Chief of the Air Staff, Air Commodore
Lachal, Director of Postings, Air Commodore McCauley,
Group Captain Wiggins, Director of Signals and Wing Com-
mander Lightfoot, Director of Armament. Norm Fraser made
a point of telling his technical airmen that the visitors were
conscious of the long hours and hard work that the airmen
put in to keep their squadron at peak operational efficiency.
During February the Squadron mounted 69 operational sorties
against the enemy. On the first, third, fifth, thirteenth and
twenty-second of the month they carried out armed recon-
naissance sorties of coastal areas occupied by the Japanese and
although they met no air or ground opposition, they brought
back useful intelligence information which indicated an
apparent drop in Japanese activity in those areas.
Three Beaufighters went to Wau on 3 February where the
Army fired three smoke bombs into the target area and a
Wirraway from No. 4 Squadron fired tracer bullets to indicate
the target to be attacked. Three Beaufighters went out on a
similar mission on 20 February but the Wirraway did not put
in an appearance. The Army unit contacted the formation
72
leader by radio and told him that as the attack on the primary
target was impractical, he should proceed to the secondary
target. However, the leader (Ross Little and Alec Spooner in
A19-8) found that he couldn't fly along the valley leading to
that target because of low cloud so the formation returned to
Ward's.
Six Beaufighters took off from Ward's at 1.20pm on
Saturday, 6 February with orders to strafe grounded aircraft
on the aerodrome at Lae: Ross Little and Bill Cameron (A19-
8), Ron Uren and John Maguire (A19-33), Bob Bennett and
Phil Edwards (A19-10), Bob Brazenor and Fred Anderson
(A19-15), Len Vial and Ralph Nelson (A19-24) and Jack
Sandford and Arthur Jaggs (A19-32).
The pilots did not see any serviceable aircraft on the strip
so they strafed everything and anything they could find.
However, the Japanese defences were still active. A19-8 was
holed by 12.7mm ack-ack in the starboard fuselage, A19-32
was holed in the mainplane and A19-15 lost an engine over
the target and had a trim tab shot away by 12.7mm ack-ack.
Bob Brasenor had to make a forced landing in a small clearing
in the jungle near Dobodura. The crew were taken back to
Ward's for the night and after the mechanics had made the
necessary repairs, Ron Uren went across and flew the aircraft
back to Moresby.
Brian Walker in A19-3 led another four aircraft in an
attack on enemy barges and enemy land targets near Lae on
the morning of 17 February. That afternoon the Commanding
Officer was passed a signal which had been originated by the
Army's observation post in the hills near Lae: 'The boys did a
good job this morning.'
Two days later another seven Beaufighters joined with a
formation of Bostons in a joint strike against troop concen-
trations in the Malahang area. A number of Mitchells were
just leaving the target area as the Beaufighters and Bostons
arrived and the pilots of two of the Beaufighters mistook two
Mitchells for Japanese bombers. They fired on them at
maximum range but ceased firing when they recognized the
73
other aircraft. The Mitchells were not damaged. Two Zekes
were airborne near Malahang but they made no attempt to
intercept either the Bostons or the Beaufighters. The radio
gear in A19-9 (Bob Brasenor and Fred Anderson) failed before
the aircraft reached Malahang so the pilot turned away and
flew it back to base.
A19-9 crashed and burned during the take-off for that
mission against Malahang but neither Col Campbell nor Jim
Yeatman were hurt. The IFF equipment had exploded and the
pilot hurriedly put the Beaufighter down in the belief that one
of his tyres had blown. T h a t equipment was installed in
Allied aircraft and transmitted a coded signal which allowed
a ground radar station to Identify it as Friend or Foe (IFF). To
prevent the enemy from recovering a set from a crashed
aircraft, the IFF equipment contained an explosive charge
designed to detonate on severe impact — such as would occur
in a crashlanding in enemy territory. To guard against
accidental destruction there were standing instructions that
required the Beaufighter navigator to isolate the electrical
circuitry just before landing — that had not been done at the
end of A19-9's previous flight.
Radar mechanics John Evans and John Laverty were re-
sponsible for the servicing and maintenance of the IFF equip-
ment. Neither had been given an official course of instruction
on IFF and the equipment was apparently so secret that not
even the technicians were permitted to have a copy of the
technical manual. Hence they had no clear idea of what might
be causing a high unserviceability rate or of what remedial
measures they should apply. It so happened that an unservice-
able set was inadvertently left sitting out in the sun and when
tested after lunch it was found to be working quite satis-
factorily. The two radar mechanics eventually determined
that moisture was adversely affecting the circuitry and they
adopted appropriate modifications.
The main aim of the Japanese forces in New Guinea in the
early months of 1943 was the reinforcement of their bases at
Lae, Salamaua, M a d a n g and Wewak and the securing of that
74
general region with the ultimate objective of launching a
gloriously successful attack on the large Allied base at Moresby.
Fortunately, no bombs ever fell on the Squadron's camp in
June Valley, where the living conditions were gradually im-
proving. No. 5 Mobile Works Squadron had installed pipes
which brought water to its own campsite as well as those of
other RAAF units in the Valley. The personnel of No. 30
Squadron had been provided with an ablution block which
had a sloping concrete floor, 10 overhead shower roses, a
footbath containing a strong solution of Condy's Crystals
and, because nurses drove past on their way to No. 3 Medical
Receiving Centre, a malthoid screen was nailed along the side
of the block which faced the road. The nurses changed shifts
at 3pm every day and Eric Lusk recalled that the less inhibited
fellows made a point of strolling across to the shower at
about that time with their towels draped around their necks
rather than their waists.
The Squadron Medical Officer held his Sick Parades every
morning but for the most part the men presented with only
minor ailments although skin complaints could be quite
difficult to clear up. Some of the men ignored the standard
preventive measures and became infected with foot tinea
which sometimes spread to their groins and armpits — in
which case they shuffled around like bandy jockeys with arms
spread out as if they were about to take-off. Men were scared
of getting the crabs and although shaving his pubic hair was
devoid of any entertainment value for the victim it did
provide an amount of ribald humour for the onlookers.
Bill Marsh could accommodate a few short term bed
patients in his Sick Quarters; in the first few months the
longer term patients were sent to the Station Sick Quarters at
Port Moresby. In November 1942 there was great excitement
when No. 3 Medical Receiving Station was established just a
few hundred metres up the road from No. 30 Squadron's
camp in June Valley. The five RAAF nurses on the staff there
were the first white women the men had seen since they left
Australia in September. Squadron personnel who were tended
75
by those nursing sisters during the early months of 1943
included Ken Agnew, Bill Colthorpe, Cliff Cotterill, Charlie
Devlin, Sid Edgar, Wally Edwards, Joe Erskine, John Farquhar,
Rus Foster, George Graham, Alwyn Green, Don Joyes, Cliff
Maxwell, Charlie Metters, Tom Rooney, Bill Schofield, Vic
Whitfield and Jim Wilson.
When Air Commodore Cobby came over from Townsville
to inspect RAAF units in New Guinea he directed unit
commanders to tighten up their discipline and their anti-
malarial measures. Previously, members of No. 30 Squadron had
been allowed to grow beards because water was scarce, new
razor blades were unobtainable, chin rashes were prevalent
and facial hair protected fair skins from sunburn. When, in
obedience to the Air Commodore's direction, the Adjutant
introduced daily parades he ordered the men to remove their
whiskers straightaway and remain cleanshaven in accordance
with the Air Force regulation. He also stressed the need for
strict observance of anti-malarial measures, insisting that
nobody should shower after sunset, that everybody should
take atebrin tablets every Wednesday and Saturday and that
everybody should wear trousers and long-sleeved shirt after
dusk. But, as Group Captain Wiggins discovered during his
visit, some airmen had to continue wearing shorts as long
trousers were in short supply in every Equipment Store.
As Director of Signals, Group Captain Wiggins' duties at
Air Force Headquarters did not include a responsibility for
postal services but he was no doubt fully aware that mail
from home was an important factor in maintaining the
morale of men in the fighting units.
Sid Virgin had set up his tent as the Unit Post Office near
the Transport Section; it had a bench along the front and was
backed by a set of pigeon holes. Everyone looked forward to
getting letters from home and although the service was
somewhat irregular, the Post Office was besieged by hopefuls
when the word went round that Sid had collected a bag of
incoming mail. Hometown newspapers were always welcome
and issues of Truth were passed from hand to hand until they
76
disintegrated. Some of the men liked to read the Australian
Women's Weekly while others preferred to read Man, Lilliput
or Argosy. Nearly everybody wanted to get hold of Esquire
with its drawings by Varga of languorous, scantily-clad girls
with shapely long legs and precisely delineated breasts.
Of special importance were the parcels of food sent up by
the womenfolk at home. Ken Golledge had quite a number of
aunts who kept him well supplied with homecooked fruit-
cakes and other delectables. Eric Lusk also received cakes from
his family and friends and, as was the custom, shared them
with other aircrew in the Squadron. The friends of Cliff
Clohesy sent him loaves of bread — hollowed out so that each
could comfortably accommodate a bottle of whisky. When
Don Angus had consumed the cake sent by his mother, he
packed the caketin with cigarettes and posted the parcel to his
sister in Australia. From time to time he sent his mother tins
of asparagus he bought from the Squadron's canteen in June
Valley. Early in December the Field Post Offices became
swamped with parcels being sent to mothers, sisters and
sweethearts; for the most part these contained model lakatois
(native boats), grass skirts or green coconuts.
For security reasons all outgoing mail had to be censored.
Adjutant Wearne distributed the unsealed envelopes to the
officers every day but they very rarely had to use scissors or
razor blades to excise incautious operational remarks. This
was similar to the Japanese situation for the Military Police
reported to 8th Army Headquarters in 1943 that the censor-
ship situation in New Guinea, New Britain and the Pacific
Islands was satisfactory. Of 124,700 items of mail examined
by censors, 11 had breached the rules about demoralizing or
homesick remarks and only five had contained references to
minor items of intelligence.
Whenever a Beaufighter was scheduled to be flown south,
the men engaged in a frenzy of letter writing and they would
then approach the crew to post the letters when the aircraft
arrived in Australia. Since their letters wouldn't have to be
screened by censors the men felt free to express themselves,
77
their feelings, attitudes and intentions in explicit detail,
knowing that their correspondence would not be read by their
officers in the unit.
Living conditions for officers and other ranks were improv-
ing. Les Braund's equipment staff had managed to secure a
few of the canvas flys stored at Murray Barracks as part of the
War Establishment of the Papuan Infantry Battalion and the
airmen had erected these as annexes to their tents, thus
making things slightly more comfortable for the inhabitants.
Athol Hewitt, an instrument repairer from Hobart, was one
of those who had visited the pit from which the Works
Squadron obtained its material for surfacing the strip and had
spread gravel screenings on the floor of his tent. Although
most of the tents were lit by kerosene lamps, a few fortunate
occupants had acquired Coleman pressure lamps. Bob Cummins
and Alan Kirley had such a lamp in their tent and because it
provided such good illumination their tent was the venue for
many card games. The Orderly Room clerks, Bill Madden,
Max Annetts, Jim Turner and Alan Laing, also had a Coleman
lamp in their tent adjacent to their workplace. Harry Whitton,
who shared a tent with other airframe fitters, had acquired a
Coleman lamp from a Supply Sergeant in one of the American
units at Schwimmer. While he was pumping it up one night
the thing exploded and threw flames all round the tent.
Fortunately, it was only a flashflame so neither the tent, the
occupants nor their gear was affected in any way.
The airmen working down at the strip were quick off the
mark when American aircraft crashed at Ward's, and they
soon removed all the usable gear — including aircraft batteries.
Quite a number of tents at the June Valley campsite were lit
with battery power and it was a common sight to see airmen
lugging their batteries across to the Transport Section after
breakfast so that they could be re-charged while they were at
work.
The Operations Room, the messes and some tents were
served with electricity from a do-it-yourself generating system.
Jim Wilson had taken one of the blue Maple-Leaf tabletops
78
into Moresby one afternoon and had picked up a generator
abandoned near the bombed-out Hotel Moresby. He had later
secured a brand new Ford V8 motor in its crate from an
American supply outfit and had acquired a V8 chasis on to
which he and Wally Edwards had mounted the motor and
generator. Airmen from the Electrical Section procured wire
and fittings from some friendly source and wired the selected
tents to the generating plant. Because of the shunt switch
which was installed on the control panel, either all the lights
in all the tents had to be on or all of them had to be off.
Tents were being made comfortable in other ways. Dis-
carded packing cases were used to construct makeshift furniture
as neither tables, chairs nor lockers were provided as Air Force
issue. Several men tried to brighten up the areas around their
tents by growing flowers whilst Jeff Heath and Andy Herron
were among those who tried, unsuccessfully, to raise some
fresh vegetables.
Those who visited Hanaubada or other nearby villages
would often return with fresh fruit, husked coconuts, tropical
papayas and huge bunches of bananas, which they bought
from the natives. Some members of the Squadron risked the
wrath of the authorities when they went fishing in Fairfax
Harbour, using sticks of gelignite rather than baited lines.
One of the armourers had to be rushed back to shore with an
ear problem after an occupant of the launch tossed a stick of
gelignite into the water without realising that his mate was
underwater collecting the stunned fish.
Providing it had no operational tasks, the RAAF Marine
Section was always willing to make a launch available to take
aircrew or groundstaff out on a fishing trip or across to one of
the delightful islands in the Harbour where they could relax
in the buff on the sandy beaches or disport themselves in the
warm, shallow water. On their off-duty days Jim Wilson and
his fellow flight riggers visited the enclosed swimming baths
near the Burns Philp wharf whilst Allan Laing and his flight
mechanic mate, Viv Mansell, often walked and swam at Ela
Beach. A particular spot on the Laloki River became a
79
Aircrew leaving for an outing on the Harbour, Moresby, January 1943.
(Courtesy Dave Beasley)
favourite with Squadron aircrew and groundstaff alike and

was frequently visited by Gwynn Davies, Glen Stoneham and
Ron Morrison. Expeditions to Rouna Falls were also popular
for that locality was much cooler than the Squadron's camp
and standing under the chilly cascading water was a bracing
and refreshing experience for the weary men.
Few airmen were inclined to engage in active sport because
of the stifling heat and energy-sapping humidity during the
day. Don Angus managed to get a baseball team together but
the Squadron players didn't have much success against the
team from the American 101st AA battery, whose pitcher had
played for the Chicago Red Sox. One of the Squadron's
guards organised a couple of cricket matches against an army
unit based at Bootless Bay but neither side distinguished itself
in either bowling or batting. After-hours recreations within
the camp included a variety of card games such as poker,
twenty-one hundred and bridge, as well as board games such
as chess, draughts and Chinese checkers. Some of the men
enjoyed playing battleships and cruisers, whilst those who
80
wished to either occupy their time or add to their piggybank
could attend the evening two-up sessions run by Cliff Clohesy.
At least one of the Squadron's official or unofficial vehicles
left the camp every night to take fellows to see movies
supposed to be showing at some particular unit but it
depended on the accuracy of that word-of-mouth information
and the driver's knowledge of roads and unit locations
whether the men actually saw that movie that night. All the
screenings were made at open air cinemas equipped with
nothing more than a screen and a makeshift shed for the
projector. Patrons brought their own seats such as kerosine
tins, wooden packing cases, or small fuel drums — and when
the projectionist had to change reels everyone stood up to
stretch themselves and ease the pressure on their backsides.
When the sound or image went awry the projectionist became
the subject of loud catcalls which, for the most part, were
good natured and kept the crowd entertained until the show
resumed. Cinema audiences never let even a tropical downpour
interfere with their night's entertainment; they sat hunched
on their makeshift seats while water streamed off their tin
hats and down their necks inside their rubber capes which
they tried to make into small tents by spreading their arms
akimbo. Because of the noise made by the rain pelting on the
tin hats, rubber capes, nearby tents and the iron roof of the
projection box, the sound track was virtually inaudible. It
was difficult to light an already damp Bryant and May's
wooden match in the pouring rain so it became the custom for
anyone who managed that task to pass his lighted cigarette
butt to his neighbour, who then passed his butt to his
neighbour and so on.
An Air Raid Yellow warning would turn the heads of the
audience towards the north to look for the incoming planes
which were usually lit up by the searchlights. If the audience
calculated that the bombers were passing them by, most of
them stayed — even if a little nervously. But if they thought
that their locality was threatened by the attack there was a
mad scramble to vacate the place, since the unit's slit trenches
could not accommodate such a crowd of visitors.
81
After the evening meal on April Fool's Day some of the
men walked up the road to see Joe E. Brown in The Gladiator,
which was to be screened at No. 22 Squadron's outdoor
cinema. But urgent messages from those fellows brought
nearly everyone across from the No. 30 Squadron camp and
for their benefit the projectionist had to re-run the Cinesound
newsreel, for it contained Damien Parer's shots of the Beau-
fighters engaged in the Bismark Sea Battle.
No. 9 Operational Group had sent Beaufighters out on 34
sorties on 3 March and the following day to participate in the
destruction of the Japanese convoy bringing supplies and
reinforcements from Rabaul to its beleaguered troops in New
Guinea. In the ensuing Bismark Sea Battle eight enemy
transport vessels and four destroyers were sunk during repeated
attacks by Fortresses, Liberators, Catalinas, Mitchells, Bostons
and Beaufighters — which were given the flak-suppression
task so that the other aircraft could concentrate their attention
on accurate bomb aiming.
The first day's engagement provided excitement for every-
one involved — the Liberators and Fortresses doing the high
level bombing, the Mitchells and Bostons doing the lower
level bombing, the Lightnings providing top cover and the
Beaufighters making low level strafing runs. In the first few
minutes one of No. 30 Squadron's pilots disposed of a
shipborne ack-ack gun and its crew whose attention had been
focussed on the high level bombers and were totally unaware
of any low flying aircraft. Dick Roe and Peter Fisken in
A19-87 were right over another vessel and about to pull up
from their strafing run when a 226kg bomb exploded directly
underneath and tossed the Beaufighter into the sky. It then
lurched towards the water, recovered, straightened up and
went on towards another target. That explosion had come
from a bomb dropped by a Mitchell and made quite a large
dent in the belly of A19-87.
George Drury and Dave Beasley in A19-11 were attacked
by Zeros just as they were about to strafe one of the
transports in the by now dispersed convoy but George followed
82
standard procedure, got down on the water, 'opened up all
the taps' and outdistanced the pursuing fighters. When that
pair of Zeros gave up the chase, they pulled away in a half-
roll and tried to position themselves on the tail of A19-10
flown by Bob Bennett and Phil Edwards. But Bob had
anticipated that sort of action and he too was skimming the
water at maximum speed, being able to draw away from
them. One of the pursuers then managed to get on the tail of
A19-53, flown by Ron Downing and Danny Box, and fired
on them from less than 50 metres. The Beaufighter's fuselage
was holed, the port engine was stopped, the starboard engine
was making unhealthy noises, Ron was wounded in the left
shoulder and Danny was hit in the thigh and the wrist.
Despite these difficulties, Ron, shepherded by two other
Beaufighters, managed to get his stricken aeroplane to Poppon-
detta where he made a spectacular belly landing.
Ross Little and Alex Spooner, in A19-8, spotted another
Zero which was pursuing a Mitchell and they opened fire
with their cannon and machineguns when about 200 metres
away from the Japanese fighter. Ross succeeded in his intention
of drawing the enemy away from the Mitchell but the Zero
climbed skywards, let Ross pass underneath him and then did
a half-roll to get behind and make a dead astern attack on the
Beaufighter. Alec Spooner had the satisfaction of returning
the enemy's fire with his own machinegun — Alec had been
responsible for designing the fitment of a rearward firing
Browning 7.7mm into the navigator's rear cupola.
The fuselage of Beaufighter A19-24 (Len Vial and Ralph
Nelson) was damaged by bullets which ricocheted down the
length of the cabin and nicked a piece out of the navigator's
shorts, without damaging other vital equipment. Ralph
adopted the tactic which Len Greenhill said had proved
effective in the Sunderlands of No. 10 Squadron, and flicked
a red Aldis lamp at his pursuer in the hope that the enemy
pilot might think the flashes came from a rear firing gun in
the Beaufighter. The Zero did break off his attack but
whether he did so because of the red flashes is of only
academic interest to Ralph.
83
Bruce Robertson had hooked up a loud speaker to the
A R / 8 radio receiver so that he, Don Angus, Ewen Blackman
and other wireless operators could hear the voice transmissions
of aircraft involved in the Bismark Sea affair. But the word
soon spread and a considerable crowd of groundstaff from
Nos. 6, 22 and 30 Squadrons gathered around the Wireless
Section's tent to hear what was happening to their aircrews
and to follow the progress of the battle. But the terse messages
they heard could not convey a real understanding of what it
was like to be on board an Allied aircraft. T h a t is more
vividly given by George Burton Graham, a wireless technician
who joined N o . 30 Squadron in May 1943. In his book None
Shall Survive, George relates how cine photographer Damien
Parer fared when he flew with Ron Uren and Harry Suthons
in A19-5, straddling the well behind the pilot:
Parer is standing behind 'Torchy' and all he can see for a time is
the horizon streaking past the nose, then a lot of water, and then
the plane straightens. You've gone around behind the warships,
but they're still banging away with their big guns, pom-poms
and ack-ack. You can see tracers whipping by. A cargo ship is in
the sights. She is camouflaged and has goalpost masts. She looks
blurred at first, but then comes into focus. The first thunder of
fire [from the cannons] gives you a shock. It jars at your feet,
and you see the tracers lashing out ahead of you, and orange
lights dance before your eyes [as the bullets strike] on the grey
structure of the ship. You keep on following the tracers to the
ship, but before you get there 'Torchy' eases back the stick and
you feel the tearing at your stomach and your knees want to
buckle with the terrific strain of the pull-out. You have to hang
on to the framework behind the pilot — and the ship becomes a
dark mass. Again you see a lot of sky . . .
By this time, Damien says, you're feeling pretty good. It's all
so wonderful and powerful and smooth that you get a sense of
jubilation and exhilaration. You take a deep breath and press
hard on your stomach. Your perspiring hands take a fresh grip on
the grating. You can smell the fetid stench of gunpowder in your
84
nostrils. Then the plane is banking round again and a fresh
target is lining up in the sights. It straightens up and you are in
that terrific rush of power again. You're going in — hard and
furious. The great hull of the ship is looming up at you, grey and
black and forbidding. Again the guns begin their violent stammer,
again the flashing out of tracers. The shuddering beat of the
explosions gives the scene a grey flicker. The acrid smell is in
your nostrils. You seem suspended in an unwholesome moment
of fear and delight as you watch the stream of bullets whang
over the decks. You see the black smoke rising and you are still
diving to meet it until everything is a black smudge — and you
say a quick prayer. And then you feel that wrench upwards again
and the plane sweeps miraculously up. And the ship passes below
the fuselage in a dark blur.
According to Arthur Ferrier, Damien was bubbling with

excitement having shot hundreds of feet of a most thrilling
and exhilarating episode of the air war against Japan. Everyone
in the Squadron was elated by the many stories told by the
crews after their debriefing by the Intelligence staff and, even
though the Bar could only dispense non-alcoholic drinks, the
atmosphere in the Aircrew Mess showed that the young
aviators were all keyed up by the events of the day.
Damien was living next to the tent occupied by Ralph
Nelson, a navigator w h o had been with Len Vial in A19-24
that day. While they were concentrating on a game of
pontoon in the light of a kerosine lamp, Damien took
photographs of two other navigators w h o had been involved
in that operation — Peter Fisken and Arthur Jaggs.
Jack Sandford and Arthur Jaggs (A19-32) led t w o other
Beaufighters on a strafing mission against targets near
Salamaua on 13 March. On the day after that Ron Uren and
Bill Clarke, (A19-5), led t w o more aircraft on another
mission in the same area. However, because of low clouds
they could make only 10 strafing runs against the target. Nine
Beaufighters joined a force of 16 Liberators in an attack on
85
Madang on 18 March when they thoroughly strafed the strip
area before the Americans dropped their bombload. The
Beauf ighters went on to Alexishaven where they poured round
after round of 20mm into the Japanese headquarters near the
Cathedral, the power house, the sawmill, the jetty and its
installations. The navigators on that mission were Dave
Beasely, Ron Binnie, Bill Cameron, Fred Cassidy, Phil Edwards,
Eric Lusk, Ralph Nelson, Alec Spooner and Harry Suthons.
Their aircrew category up to that time had been Wireless Air
Observer but in March it was changed to Navigator (BW) as
they had qualified in air navigation, bombing, gunnery and
wireless operating.
Many of those who had attended the Signals School at
Point Cook had been trained on wireless equipment imported
from Britain — the 1082 Transmitter and the 1083 Receiver.
But because this became difficult to obtain the Director of
Signals at Air Force Headquarters initiated a project which
led to the issue of a specification for an airborne general
purpose set. Amalgamated Wireless of Australia secured the
contract to produce the AT5/AR8 combination which was
tested in a Hudson at Richmond in 1940. That equipment
was subsequently installed behind the navigator's chair in
both the British and Australian series of Beaufighters. It
provided facilities for intercom between the crew, for trans-
mission by continuous wave, modulated continuous wave,
voice and pulse. The transmitter covered 2 bands, 140kcs to
500kcs and 2mcs to 20mcs, while the receiver covered the
band between 140kcs and 20mcs. Some of the ground stations
which were mentioned during operational briefings in mid
1943 were:
• Moresby — CW Callsign — 3X3: Voice Callsign —
GLOOMY. Primary Frequency — 6870kcs. First Alternate
— 6700kcs. Second Alternate — 6390 kcs.
• Milne Bay — CW Callsign — 1V5: Voice Callsign —
GOSLING. Frequencies as for Moresby.
• Horn Island — CW Callsign — 8L8: Voice Callsign
—CHICKEN.
86
• Moresby H / F D / F — CW Callsign — 9G9: Voice Callsign
— CRYSTAL. Frequency 5050kcs (0800-1900k)
• Aeradio Callsigns: Milne Bay — VZKF. Moresby —
VZPY. Townsville — VZTV
• Homing Beacons: Milne Bay (KF) — 1455kcs. Moresby
(PM) — 270kcs. Horn Island (HD) — 280kcs.
The Squadron Signals Officer, Colin Harvey, maintained

that the AT5/AR8 gear, which was fitted with more than 70
knobs and switches, was rather overwhelming for some navi-
gators and that about half of it was redundant because the
Beaufighters flew at such low level during their operations in
the New Guinea area. The M / F transmitter was rarely used.
There was no radio compass or automatic direction finding
facility so that the M / F receiver — with manual loop and
manual sense — had to be used. M / F direction finding on the
short, fixed aerial was a useful facility but when the navigator
was strapped in his seat it was impossible for him to reach the
Transmit/Receive switch. The sets had a crystal control
facility but no crystals had been made for the frequencies used
by the Fighter Sectors with which the Beaufighters were
required to communicate.
Because of strict radio silence Beauf ighter crews transmitted
very few messages, either by voice or by key, in their operational
area.
The W / T Operators and the Wireless Maintenance Mech-
anics formed the Wireless Section which was situated near the
aircraft dispersal bays at the end of Ward's Strip. The Section
included: Don Angus, Ewen Blackman, Ray Brockman, Neville
Britton, Frank Eckhold, George Graham, Bruce Robertson
and George Shearer. The men of the section were responsible
for looking after the radio gear in the Beaufighters. After one
of those aircraft had stood in the tropical sun for even a few
minutes the external metal surfaces became extremely hot to
the touch and the conditions inside a closed-up aircraft were
nearly unbearable. When Bruce Robertson hopped in an
aircraft after lunch in order to check the equipment with a
87
wavemeter, the perspiration ran down his face, chest, arms
and legs in a continuous stream. He thought that the aircraft's
internal temperature might have been close to 50 degrees
Celsius that afternoon.
On 22 March Brian Walker and Bill Cameron (A19-3) led
nine other Beaufighters across a large stretch of the South
Pacific Ocean to the southern coast of New Britain where
they were to co-operate with a large formation of Liberators
in an attack on Gasmata. As usual, the Beaufighters went in
first and then the Americans pounded the place with their
900kg bombs. The bombing and strafing attacks were highly
successful and the raid severely affected the enemy's ability to
mount air attacks on Allied units in New Guinea. But it was
not without cost to No. 30 Squadron. A19-34 (Harold Berg
and Harold Kelly) was hit in the port tyre by machinegun fire
but because the crew — who were on their first mission —
made a good landing at Ward's the aircraft was soon repaired
and back in service.
Three other aircraft were holed by 12.7mm bullets — A19-
8 (Ross Little and Alec Spooner), A19-74 (Bob Harding and
Hedley Cane) and A19-87 (Dick Roe and Peter Fisken). And
once more George Drury came home in A19-11 with palm
fronds hanging from its fuselage. The common view among
the groundstaff was that George's height perception became
impaired during his low level run across a target and that this
arose because of some distortion to his eyesight caused by the
different refractive values of his spectacles, his gunsight and
the one-inch bulletproof glass windscreen.
Three crews returned to Ward's in aircraft that had not
been damaged by enemy activity at Gasmata: Ron Uren and
Harry Suthons (A19-5), Sid Wallace and Ron Binnie (A19-
32) and George Gibson and Eric Lusk (A19-37).
During that sortie the ammunition expenditure for the
Squadron was 18,000 rounds from the 7.7mm machineguns
and 8,500 armour-piercing, ball and high incendiary rounds
from the 20mm cannons.
Following the issue of the weekly Government Gazette
88
Beaufighter A19-11 after a daylight raid, Ward's Strip, 12 April 1943.
(Courtesy George Dusting)
soon after the Bismark Sea Battle, the entire Squadron was
turned out for a parade on 26 March where they heard the
announcement that six commissioned pilots and one com-
missioned navigator had been decorated. The Commanding
Officer, Wing Commander Brian Walker, had been awarded
the Distinguished Service Order. His two flight commanders —
Squadron Leaders Ross Little and Ronald Uren — had each
been awarded a Distinguished Flying Cross. Flying Officers
Colin Campbell, Alexander Spooner, Jack Sandford and John
Maguire were also each awarded a Distinguished Flying
Cross.
Just on noon of that day, Short Sunderland flying boat
A18-14, under the command of Flying Officer Cowan, alighted
in Port Moresby after a five hour flight from Townsville.
That aeroplane brought seven crews to replace crews which
would go south on completion of their six month operational
tour. The new crews were:
• Flight Lieutenant Maurice Ball and Flight Sergeant Greg
Hardman.
89
• Flight Lieutenant Keith Eddison and Sergeant Max Allott.
• Flying Officer Keith Nicholson and Sergeant Kenneth
Delbridge.
• Pilot Officer Douglas Raffen and Pilot Officer George
Dick.
• Flight Sergeant Charles Harris and Sergeant Donald Miller.
• Sergeant Edward Woolcott and Sergeant Robert Hasenohr.
• Sergeant Harold Tapner and Flight Sergeant Robert Thomas.
Four days after their arrival, Chas Harris and Don Miller
had lucky escapes on their very first flight from Ward's when
A19-96 crashed during a take-off for a local area familiar-
isation exercise. Because the aircraft had been parked out in
the open, the cockpit temperature was suffocatingly high and
all the interior surfaces were scalding hot to the touch. So
Chas opened his top hatch while taxying but forgot to close it
before take-off. He tried to shut it as the aircraft was lifting
off, at which time the Beaufighter headed off towards the
scrub at tree-top level. The port wing stalled, the nose
dropped, the aircraft momentarily recovered and then the
right wing stalled. T was doing a bit of praying from there on
and that alleviated my fear to a great extent,' Don said. 'As
we hit the trees there was an almighty scraping along the side
of the fuselage and the limb of a tree, about as thick as a
man's upper arm, rammed through the port side of the
cockpit. If our aircraft had been a few centimetres lower as we
skidded through the undergrowth, Chas would have been
impaled.' The starboard motor was knocked out and went
rolling along on its own and then the tail unit broke off and
careered forwards. Don slammed his upper body down to the
level of his navigation table and thus avoided having his head
sliced off as his cupola was sheared off.
Bob Bennett saw the accident and thought at the time that
it had occurred because the pilot had been accustomed to
take-offs and landings on an all-over field; using a single
runway for the first time presented a hazard, especially in a
cross wind. Bob had adopted the practice of taking off with
the starboard throttle slightly in advance of the other in order
to counter the Beaufighter's tendency to swing to starboard.
90
CHAPTER SEVEN
Moresby Attacked by
100 Aircraft
T HAT the first Thursday in April was April Fool's Day was
assuredly not relevant to the orders which called for a
co-ordinated attack on a Japanese convoy that had left
Kavieng and might be heading towards New Guinea. Eight
Beaufighters were to be involved as well as squadrons of
Fortresses, Liberators and Mitchells. The operation was called
off when the shadowing Fortresses sent a negative report so
the Beaufighters went to Dobodura, landing there at 6.40pm.
Lae was the next target assigned to RAAF Bostons and
Beaufighters. On 4 April No. 30 Squadron aircraft made 36
strafing passes during that mission and damaged every building
at Heath's Plantation. In a flight that lasted four and a
quarter hours, eight Beaufighters and a formation of Mitchells
went on yet another mission over the Owen Stanley Range on
9 April. The primary target was given as Amron Mission, the
secondary target was Alexishaven:
• Brian Walker and Bill Cameron (A19-3)

• Ross Little and Alec Spooner (A19-8)
• Ron Uren and John Maguire (A19-5)
• George Gibson and Eric Lusk (A19-38)
• Keith Eddison and Max Allott (A19-24)
Dick Roe and Col Harvey (A19-87)
91
• Ed Woolcott and Bob Hasenohr (A19-37)
• Chas Harris and Don Miller (A19-15
• Doug Raffen and George Dick (A19-32)
All the buildings at the primary target and at the nearby

meterological observation post were strafed and left burning.
The Japanese headquarters buildings, the powerhouse and the
sawmill at Alexishaven were also strafed and left smoking.
Three loaded barges were attacked, two being sunk and one
left burning. A launch on the island opposite the jetty and
two barges covered with tarpaulins and palm fronds in the
nearby river were thoroughly strafed.
When the Beaufighters arrived at Madang they saw that
five grounded aircraft which had just been attacked by the
Mitchells, were burning. In the north-east corner of the field
they saw two grey bombers, one of which had black swastika
markings. When they left the area a huge petrol fire in the
dock area was still blazing furiously; the aircraft had destroyed
a grounded single-seater aircraft and had expended all their
cannon ammunition.
During April the groundstaff had problems with the Mk 6
engines of the replacement aircraft arriving in Moresby from
the mainland so Norm Fraser was delighted when one of the
men in Servicing Flight sectionised a junk head and discovered
the cause of the trouble. Servicing Flight was responsible for a
variety of technical matters including aircraft repairs, aircraft
maintenance and inspections when the aircraft had logged 40,
80, and 120 hours of flying. Wally Edwards, an engine fitter,
and Andy Herron, an airframe fitter, kept their men hard at
work in order to achieve a quick turnaround so that the
Beaufighters could be returned to the flight lines and available
for operational flying without unseemly delay.
In the first few weeks of April the men of that Flight
worked on A19-93, the first Beaufighter to arrive at Moresby
with a dihedral tailplane, on A19-38 which Brian Walker was
to ditch on Pyramid Reef a few weeks later and on A19-11
which George Drury had managed to decorate with the tops
92
of palms trees and other foliage. They had also repaired A19-
8, the airscrew of which was damaged during an attack on
Lae by Ross Little as well as A19-5 which needed a new gill
ring before Ron Uren could take it up again and A19-11
which needed a new port airscrew seal after George Drury
brought it back for a landing a few minutes after taking off
for a strike against Madang on 9 April.
Three days later the men were just about to take their
morning smoko when the Air Raid alarm was sounded. Henry
Cornieliusen, a gunner in the 3rd LAA Regiment, said that
the warning system involved a Yellow Alert (20 minutes
warning) and a Red Alert (5 minutes warning). Warning
messages emanated from No. 4 Fighter Sector and were based
on information fed to it by a Radio Direction Finding station
and by Army lookouts dispersed along the Owen Stanley
Range. When Mowbray Ship or other operators at the Ward's
telephone exchange were advised about impending raids they
passed the information on to the RAAF units.
Outlying military units got their warnings when an anti-
aircraft gun fired three deliberately spaced shots — a signal
which was taken up by the many owners of small arms to
ensure that everybody got the message. At some late hour one
dark night it so happened that three servicemen had concluded
their business at the unit's latrines and had then slammed
down the wooden seats in succession — bang . . . bang . . .
bang. Those three noisy claps caused their sleepy-eyed comrades
to respond by scurrying for their slit trenches amid much
cursing of the Japanese which later included their three fellow
soldiers.
On the morning of the big Japanese raid, the groundstaff
needed no urging to take cover — they reckoned that the
attack must be a serious one as it was the first time the 30
Squadron area appeared to have been singled out for a
daylight attack. Moreover, they had inspected the after effects
of a previous raid when the enemy's daisy-cutters had sheared
off all the saplings, shrubs and kunai grass about 40cm above
ground level. And on another occasion when they arrived at
93
their workplace the morning after a similar raid they found
that their enamel mugs, left hanging on tentpoles, were
riddled with holes.
As it neared Moresby the enemy force of 45 bombers and
60 fighters split into three formations — the most westerly
formation of nine bombers concentrating their attack on
Ward's. When Owen Fenwick and George Dusting saw the
size of the raid, and that a bomber formation was heading
straight towards them, they vacated the Beaufighter's dispersal
area at speed and kept on going until the bombs began to fall.
'And then we fell flat on mother earth in some mud right near
an AA gun,' George wrote. 'The whole world seem to be
going up in smoke, flame and noise.' The enemy dropped a
string of 40 daisy-cutters as they flew across the northern end
of the strip — the first one exploded near 'B' Flight and the
last one near 'A' Flight.
A newly arrived flight rigger had reported to Ron Morrison
just before the alarm was sounded, and within a quarter of an
hour he was subjected to a raid involving more than 100
aeroplanes. Ron saw that the young lad was scared stiff and
took the trouble to calm him down and get him into a shelter.
George Allum, who could have been a model for a Bondi
lifesaver poster and was well-known for his fatherly interest
in native children, speculated about how to cover his vital
parts with just one size 7 steel helmet and decided that he
needed at least two.
Jim Wilson was descending a hill behind an American
truck when the Red Alert sounded: he saw the driver leap out
of the cab and head for the scrub, letting his bomb laden truck
career down the hill and slam into a culvert with an almighty
crash but without disturbing even one of the 114kg bombs on
board. After Jim had hurriedly parked his vehicle and joined
the black American, he remarked on the stupidity of abandon-
ing the truck and letting it get badly damaged. To which the
American driver replied, 'Man, Uncle Sam's got plenty of
trucks, but there's only one of me.'
94
Because of the noise of two engines being given a ground
run, Eric Hughes wasn't aware of the impending raid until
Flight Sergeant John Wilson yelled at him and three other
fitters to take cover. They raced to their trench but its sides
had collapsed and it was little more than a shallow depression.
Nevertheless, the four men dived in headfirst and pressed their
bodies down hard into the sloppy mud and slimy water, thus
avoiding being sliced by the myriad shreds of deadly shrapnel.
Elton Marsden and Wally Navin had dug their trench at some
distance from the bay which accommodated A19-3, on which
the two airmen were working at the time of the alert. They
scampered for their trench where Elton pressed his face down
solidly. 'I was eating the dirt at the very bottom of the
trench,' he said. T thought my time had come when my tin
helmet was struck by a piece of flying shrapnel, giving quite a
sharp "ding" and scraping some paint off.'
A19-50 was a total write-off — it had received a direct hit
and became nothing more than a smoking shell. The fuselage
of A19-37 was punctured by dozens of small holes — it had
recently been flown by Ed Woolcott and Bob Hasenohr in an
attack against Alexishaven. The fuselage and wings of A19-
11 were similarly holed — that aircraft had been flown by
Keith Nicholson and Ken Delbridge in a raid on Madang with
a formation of American Liberators. The fourth Beaufighter
to sustain damage from shrapnel that day was A19-5 but
Norm Fraser's men were able to repair it in time for George
Gibson and Eric Lusk to take it out on a strafing mission
about 10 days later.
During the raid a rather twitchy Adjutant had been skitter-
ing around the June Valley camp on his long, thin legs, with
his helmet planted firmly on his bald head, the haversack
containing his gas mask strapped to his chest and brandishing
his Smith & Wesson while booming out: 'Don't panic! Don't
panic! I'll shoot the first man that panics!' John Laverty
believed that one or two airmen had their rifles trained on the
Adjutant in case he really did go off the deep end.
95
At the evening meal Frank Simpson delighted the airmen in
their Mess by reciting a piece of doggerel, which included the
following:
One day the Japs sent bombers, to belt us for a row,

But the boys stood fast beside their kites, prepared to face the
foe.
While miles away at camp, they say, old 'Splitpin' lost his cool,
And said if one man panicked, he'd shoot the bloody fool!
Operational Group released the Squadron from active status

until it had repaired the damaged aircraft. Beaufighters were
next ordered out on 23 April with directions to strafe the
tracks being used by the enemy in the vicinity of Komiatum.
Four of 'B' Flight's aircraft took off from Ward's at 11.54am
and were away for two hours 45 minutes. They were led by
George Gibson and Eric Lusk in A19-5. Others on that
mission were Joe Newman and Ron Binnie (A19-90), Keith
Eddison and Max Allott (A19-3), with Harold Berg and
Harold Kelly (A19-74). Those aircraft made a total of 18
passes in the target area, including attacks on the wireless
station. A rumour went around the strip that an aircraft had
been lost that day but the waiting groundstaff were greatly
relieved when the four Beaufighters appeared shortly after
2pm. Elton Marsden was particularly pleased to see A19-3 fly
over Ward's — he had applied the camouflage paint to it in
the hangar at Richmond, flown in it to Bohle River and again
on the flight to Moresby. He and Wally Navin had come to
regard it as 'their' aircraft and had kept it in the tip-top
condition prescribed by its usual pilot — Cec McKew.
News had also come in about a Short Sunderland Empire
flying boat. The report asserted that it had ditched and sunk
about 35km south of the Basilisk Light and that the crew, all
the mail and 22 RAAF passengers had been lost. Doug Raffen
and George Dick took off in A19-6 at 6.15am on 23 April
and carried out a parallel track search from the given data.
But they received a recall message after flying for about 40
96
minutes because another aircraft had found the flying boat on
a reef. Although none of the mail was reported to have been
recovered, 18 of the passengers were rescued.
Ten days later Adjutant Wearne arranged for the entire
Squadron to turn out for a formal parade — not to com-
memorate Anzac Day but to mark Easter Sunday. The printed
Order of Service listed the sequence of events: The National
Anthem, an Invocatory Prayer, General Confession, the
Apostle's Creed, Hymn No. 88 ('Abide With Me'), The
Lesson (Wing Commander Walker), Chaplain's Address
(Reverend Kirby) and the Blessing. The Commanding Officer
then addressed his men concerning the major part the unit had
played in the war against Japan and the future prospects for
Beaufighters in the New Guinea campaign. Five of the pilots
on that parade received postings to southern units during the
last week of April: Bob Brazenor, Jack Sandford and Col
Campbell (to No. 5 Operational Training Unit), Cec McKew
(to School of Army Co-operation) and Dick Roe (to Towns-
ville Personnel Pool). Five navigators received postings out of
the Squadron at the same time: Arthur Jaggs, Jim Yeatman
and Fred Anderson (to No. 5 Operational Training Unit) and
Peter Fisken and Bill Clarke (to Townsville Personnel Pool).
Replacement navigators were Keith McCarthy, Bill Coleman,
John Hullin and Bernie Le Griffon whilst the incoming pilots
were Bill Boulton, Bob Mills, Noel Webster and Bill Cosgrove.
While Bill Cosgrove was on his way north he met Col
Campbell and Jim Yeatman in the bar of the Queens Hotel in
Townsville. The two tour expired aircrew gave Bill Cosgrove
a bottle of whisky to give to their good friend Arthur Ferrier.
When this was handed over in June Valley, Bill magnanimously
offered to help Arthur to dispose of it. Wally Bell also offered
his help. By the time the trio got to the bottom of the bottle
they were in a most mischievous mood and entertained
themselves and the rest of the camp by hiding behind different
tents and yelling out at the top of their voices 'Blackjack's a
bastard. Blackjack's a bastard.' Next morning the Adjutant
ordered them to line up outside the Commanding Officer's
97
tent immediately after breakfast in full kit — webbing, haver-
sack, sidearms, and steel helmet. They were left standing in
the hot morning sun for nearly an hour while Brian Walker
dealt with some files on his desk, giving the miscreants an
occasional glance. The three non-commissioned officers had
such thick heads that they had no clear recollection of exactly
what their Commanding Officer said about the previous
evening's affair but they assumed that his words were far
from polite.
There was good news for some. Eight airmen learnt that
they had become fathers since leaving Australia:
• Eric Horne's daughter, Patricia Margaret, was born on 17

August 1942.
• Corporal Gallary's daughter, Judith Ann, was born on 4 January
1943.
• Corporal Hine's son, Leslie David, was born on 24 January
1943.
• Bill Stein's daughter, Helen Dawn, was born on 29 January
1943.
• Andy Herron's daughter, Barbara Constance, was born on 27
January 1943.
• Corporal Hunter's daughter, Jacquiline, was born on 1 May
1943.
• Bill Schofield's son, Colin George, was born on 10 May 1943.
Bill Marsh was promoted to Squadron Leader rank in May

1943 and must have decided to pass the news on to each
member in person; he made everybody call at his Sick Quarters
for a TAB booster that day. His needlework produced the
usual crop of sore arms and severe headaches but those were
relatively minor compared with the sufferings of the batch of
men attended to by a visiting dentist who drilled holes,
inserted fillings, pulled teeth and attended to dental hygiene.
His pedal-operated drill was especially disliked.
On 2 May George Gibson and Eric Lusk flew A l 9 - 1 0 7
from Garbutt to Ward's loaded with fresh meat, tomatoes
98
and oranges as well as some beer and spirits. Five nights later
there was a wild party in the Aircrew Mess during which Eric
helped three others to seize the Commanding Officer, remove
his pants and toss them up into the rafters. Brian Walker
laughed at the time but the following morning he told the
four perpetrators that although they had gone a little too far,
he was putting the incident down to their exuberant spirits.
When 10 Mitchells and eight Beaufighters attacked Madang
on 8 May they were intercepted by Japanese fighters but only
A19-74 (Keith Nicholson and Ken Delbridge) was damaged.
Because of the intensity of the anti-aircraft fire they made
only one run across the target during which the fuselage of
A19-32 (George Gibson and Eric Lusk) was holed by ground
fire. The aircraft then flew along the coast and attacked a
1,000 tonne transport vessel which was crowded with troops.
Nineteen Beaufighter sorties against Gasmata were ordered
for 13 and 14 May. On their first attack they strafed a
bomber on the ground and another which was resting on
trestles. There were no enemy aircraft at Gasmata on the
second attack but the anti-aircraft positions at the eastern end
of the strip were strafed as well as a hut containing about 20
belly tanks, a six-metre open boat and a rubber dinghy
containing three men.
When an enemy convoy was reported to be near Arawe,
Fortresses, Mitchells and Beaufighters were dispatched to deal
with it on 15 May but it was not at the given position.
During the return flight, Bill Cosgrove and Bernie Le Griffon
(A19-111) sighted a 75 metre submarine on the surface. The
pilot dived steeply from a great height, gave a long burst, saw
his cannon shells hit the vessel at the waterline below the
conning tower and saw sailors fire four shots from the vessel's
forward gun. On his second run the pilot raked the submarine
from stem to stern but by that time the enemy vessel had
started to submerge. Wau was subjected to a heavy bombard-
ment by Fortresses on 17 and 18 May as a consequence of the
decision by Generals MacArthur and Blarney to seize the
Nassau Bay area as a curtain raiser for the assault on Lae.
99
Bostons and Beaufighters attacked enemy troops at Nassau
Bay on 23 May and friendly forward soldiers reported that
the aircraft had inflicted considerable casualties.
The planning staff issued orders for Fortresses, Liberators,
Lightnings and Beaufighters to attack Lae on 25 May but
because of bad weather the operation was re-scheduled for the
following day. This involved staging through Dobodura:
• Keith Eddison and Max Allot (A19-7)
• Bob Bennett and Phil Edwards (A19-87)
• Bill Cosgrove and Bernie le Griffon (A19-24)
• George Gibson and George Carnegie (A19-101)
• Maurice Ball and Greg Hardman (A19-6)
• Bob Mills and Bill Coleman (A19-106)
They failed to rendezvous with the other formations because

of refuelling difficulties at Dobodura so that when they got
near Lae four Zeros were waiting for them and as the
Lightning top-cover had left the Beaufighters prudently decided
not to press on with their attack. George Carnegie flew with
George Gibson that day. He had crewed up with Ron Downing
at Richmond but because of hospitalization at Concord,
became a spare navigator when he rejoined the Squadron in
New Guinea. He flew as an extra navigator with Bob
Cummins and Alan Kirley on a barge sweep near Salamaua
and with John Drummond and Ron Allen when they attacked
targets in the Mubo area. On 8 May he flew with Keith
Eddison in an attack on Madang when Max Allott was
medically unfit; Captain John Court, the Army Liaison
Officer was a passenger on that flight. George was scheduled
to fly with Keith Eddison for the attack on Lae on 27 May
but Max Allott came to George's tent the previous evening
and said that as he was now recovered, he would fly with his
own pilot the following morning.
Max Allott flew with his pilot on the early morning strike
on Lae when their Beaufighter (A19-24) was shot down by
anti-aircraft fire. Damien Parer had intended to fly in that
100
aircraft but withdrew at the last moment. Others in the
formation that day were:
• Bob Bennett and Phil Edwards (A19-87)
• Chas Harris and Don Miller (A19-15)
• Bill Cosgrove and Col Harvey (A19-102)
• John Drummond and Ron Allen (A19-3)
Keith Eddison was in the lead aircraft and, in company
with Chas Harris, intended to strafe the anti-aircraft positions
as they ran across the strip. He led the formation down the
Markham Valley at low level and then increased his height to
about 1,000 feet just before he reached the small hill near
Jacobsen's Plantation. The Beaufighters met intense fire from
the ground as soon as they breasted the hill and commenced
their dive for their strafing runs. Col Harvey believed that the
pilot of the lead airplane was hit at that stage because the
aircraft just kept flying on, getting lower and lower, until it
hit the ground and went 'whoomph'; Bob Bennett was on the
other side of the strip and glimpsed a flash of flame as
something exploded on his port side, which he thought might
be an ammunition dump. Maurice Ball caught a brief glimpse
of his leader's aircraft crashing into the ground after it was hit.
Bill Clarke was another spare navigator in the Squadron; he
flew with a number of pilots and completed 18 operational
sorties before returning to Australia on 22 April at the end of
his operational tour. He flew as the navigator on three sorties
with Des Moran-Hilford during September, five with Cec
McKew during October followed by seven with Dick Roe
during October and November. He came back from one
operation covered in gore and feathers — his cupola had been
smashed by a birdstrike. During his last operational sortie he
had a bird's eye view of the Battle of the Bismark Sea from
the navigator's cupola of A19-3 flown by his Commanding
Officer.
Bill Cameron and Eric Lusk were uncomfortable occupants
of the rear cupola for they were both tall fellows and were
101
forever scraping their heads against its inside or bumping
them against its interior rim when they bent down to adjust
the radio gear. On the other hand, men of shorter stature —
such as Don Kirkwood and Fred Cassidy — would sometimes
sit on a parachute pack in order to secure an unimpeded view
of the countryside through their perspex cupola.
Getting to and from targets on the north coast of New
Guinea did not call for any great navigation skill and few
observers bothered to maintain a still air plot. Eric Lusk never
did so and wasn't aware that anyone else did except, perhaps,
the navigator in the lead aircraft. Harold Kelly was never in a
lead aircraft and was thus never responsible for getting a
formation to its target on time. But being a conscientious and
meticulous young fellow, he kept a still air plot going all the
time, as well as marking his actual position, derived from
visual observations. Fred Cassidy also maintained a dead
reckoning plot during every operational flight. He and Mos
Morgan got together before take-off and worked out a
complete and thorough flight plan which took account of
Fred Cassidy, navigator, and his pilot, Mos Morgan, Moresby, January
1943. (Courtesy Fred Cassidy)
102
possible places for an emergency landing, navigational hazards,
prominent geographical features and what landmarks to look
for. The paucity of topographical information on the aero-
nautical charts of the day did not augur well for highly
accurate navigation but the Beaufighter crews were much
better off than other aviators in the area. When Lieutenant
Marion Kirby and the 80th Fighter Squadron arrived in New
Guinea the only maps the pilots had were from the National
Geographic magazine showing the coastal outline and a few
inland peaks. Their standard procedure after an attack on
Buna was to fly on a heading of 180 degrees until they saw the
sea and turn right for Moresby if they saw reefs at the
coastline.
Brian Walker flew out of Moresby in a Beaufighter when
he left No. 30 Squadron during May and as he had not signed
the official Form EE/77, Arthur Ferrier chased him as he
taxied out to the strip, waving the book at him. But the
Commanding Officer just grinned at him, gave a rude signal
and took off. Arthur described it as a typical action, appro-
priate for a non-conformist who felt compelled to flout rules
he considered to be irksome and nothing more than bumph.
Years later, Brian Walker told a reporter that although he
loved flying there were times when he and the Air Force had
some disagreements. T should have been tossed out, actually,'
he said. 'I was court martialled twice for "minor mis-
demeanours" and lost a bit of rank but you couldn't say that
life wasn't exciting.' During his aviation career he was
involved in 10 accidents and walked away from them all.
After an attack on Lae in A19-4 on 18 November 1942 he
had to make a belly landing at Ward's because enemy anti-
aircraft guns had shot out his hydraulics. He and his navigator,
John Mason, walked away from that Beaufighter. Later,
when the engine of A19-38 failed during a test flight he had
to splash the aircraft into the shallow water on Pyramid Reef,
not far from Moresby. He and his navigator, Bill Cameron,
swam around until picked up by the rescue launch. His
unconventional ways brought a measure of dislike from some
103
'Black Jack' Walker, Commanding Officer, in entertainment mode,
Moresby, December 1942. (Courtesy Brian Walker)
quarters and a deal of approval from others. He fussed over

his aircrew, with the sole object of keeping his pilots and
navigators at a high level of proficiency in order to secure
maximum destruction of enemy targets by his squadron. His
drive for maximum effort had its effect on the aircraft
104
maintenance technicians, who worked long hours in unbeliev-
ably difficult conditions to give their Commanding Officer
sufficient serviceable aircraft for the assigned operational
tasks. They often thought their efforts were not fully appreci-
ated but they were greatly encouraged by the remarks made by
the Governor General, Lord Gowrie, when he visited the Unit
on 27 May.
Brian Walker's outstanding flying ability was admired by
everyone and his displays in the skies over Moresby were
conversational topics among aircrew and groundstaff alike.
Eric Lusk called him a gifted aviator whose consuming
interests were aircraft and flying anything he could get his
hands on. John Mason, his normal navigator, recalled the day
they crossed the Owen Stanley in cloud:
Just as we lined up to get through the Gap we flew into thick

cloud. There was no room to turn round so Brian maintained his
heading for the Markham Valley, pushed his throttles as far
forward as he could and, at full bore our poor aircraft was just
hanging more-or-less vertically on its props. He took the Beau
right up beyond 13,000 feet — a superb piece of flying. Had I
been with any other pilot I'm sure we'd have been finished.
New crews were introduced to the tactics used within the

Squadron by taking part in a mock operation which ended
with a weapons attack on the wreck in the Harbour. This was
the hulk of what had been the British freighter, Prutb, which
had left San Francisco early in November 1927 with a cargo
of galvanized wire, automobiles and oil. She had called at
Samarai to pick up copra and was putting in to Port Moresby
when she ran aground. Captain Hudson felt he could move
off alone at the next high tide but a severe tropical gale blew
the vessel onto the reef where she still lies.
On 31 May, seven of the new crews were briefed to take six
Beaufighters out on a mock operation, culminating in a line
astern attack with cannons and machine guns on the wreck of
the Pruth. Bob Harding and Hedley Cane were to fly A19-73
105
and take another crew — Frank King and John Tyrell — as
passengers. For the weapons portion of the exercise, Bob
Harding, the leader of the second formation, was briefed to
attack the midships portion while the pilot in the following
aircraft was to attack the bow of the wreck. That pilot was
closely watching the aircraft in front and saw that his
formation leader was heading towards the ship's bow, which
meant that he could be hit if the following aircraft pressed on
with the attack. 'I chose not to fire my guns,' said Doug
Raffen. 'I had my leader clearly in view and saw that he
wasn't going to clear the ship at all, being at deck height and
coming up fast on the big mast poking up into the sky. The
next thing I saw was a sheet of flame from the starboard
engine, after which the Beaufighter flipped over onto its back
and plunged into the sea.' The starboard mainplane of A19-
73 was sheared clean off when it hit the ship's mast and sailed
up into the air. 'A good part of my vision from the cockpit
was obscured as it whipped past my aeroplane,' he said.
The two pilots in the lead aircraft, Harding and King, were
killed in that tragic accident. King's tour of duty in New
Guinea had lasted exactly three days. Amazingly, the two
navigators, Cane and Tyrell, managed to free themselves from
the submerged Beaufighter and were picked up by an RAAF
rescue launch. That lucky pair spent three or four days in
hospital having some minor cuts and bruises attended to.
May had been a busy month for the men in Servicing
Flight; they had worked long hours to finish aircraft inspec-
tions and to complete repairs on battle damaged aircraft.
Their tasks had included work on A19-73, which had been
flown by Bob Harding and Hedley Cane on a barge attack on
27 April and needed adjustments to its boost pressures, on
A19-74 which was slightly damaged on 8 May during the
attack on Madang and on A19-106 which was last flown by
Doug Raffen and George Dick during the attack on Gasmata
on 12 May. In addition, they had carried out unit acceptance
checks on A19-7, A19-101 and A19-107 which had been
ferried up from Forest Hill.
106
The Japanese had continued to send aircraft to Moresby
during May but they did little damage.
A reconnaissance aircraft appeared on 13 May and the next
night a flare and about 12 bombs were dropped. Two nights
later the enemy made three raids on Moresby during which
they dropped flares, fired guns at the searchlights and dropped
a few bombs. Harry Tayler was at the pictures at the time but
went up a nearby hill to get a better view of the raid and the
action of the American fighters which chased the intruders
away.
Some 25 bombers and 50 fighters were intercepted and
turned back from Moresby by Allied fighters just before the
men of No. 30 Squadron stood down for lunch on 17 May.
There was another alert on 20 May and on 26 May two more
reconnaissance aircraft came over Moresby at a great height.
Following the alert on 29 May all Beauf ighter crews were put
on aircraft standby but they were not scrambled because the
raid did not develop.
During the last week of May Les Braund began the issue of
green mosquito nets which offered greater protection than the
white ones because of their smaller mesh and that sparked a
latrine-o-gram to the effect that the Squadron was moving to
Dobodura. This was a most unwelcome prospect for it was a
most unattractive and unhealthy place where nearly every
serviceman had dermatitis and where malaria was rife. Eric
Lusk and others had spent a night in open sided huts of an
American unit there and as they had no nets the mosquitoes
made a feast of them. 'Twenty-one days later, bingo!' said
Eric, T was slapped into hospital with malaria, along with
about two thirds of the others in the party.'
George Drury and Dave Beasley had been taken to that
airfield after extricating themselves from A19-75 which had
crashed in nearby marshy lowlands. Enemy groundfire had
severed a fuel line and the pilot had tried to reach Dobodura
on one motor. They brought back highly uncomplimentary
reports about the place, particularly about the perpetually wet
conditions. Later, the Beaufighter flown by Col Campbell
107
and Jim Yeatman got bogged in the parking area to the side of
the strip and during their stay they were accommodated in a
hospital tent where the legs of the camp stretcher sank some
20cm into the squelchy ground. On another occasion Ken
Golledge and Frank Simpson were passengers in a Beaufighter
returning to Moresby, when John Drummond and Dick Roe
took off from Dobodura together. Dick's aircraft was slightly
ahead and his wheels threw up slush from the waterlogged
strip onto the front windscreen of the accompanying aircraft.
As a result John Drummond did not have clear forward vision
and his aircraft ploughed through the top foliage of some
trees at the end of the strip. Ken Golledge recalls that Frank
Simpson was an extremely worried man for a minute or two.
Len Vial and Ralph Nelson had landed at Dobodura in
A19-55 after an attack on Salamaua on 11 February and,
because of cloud build, had not been able to get back to
Moresby. During their forced stay they were accommodated
by an Australian Army unit. 'We were prevented from going
down to the river during daylight as the Japanese soldiers on
the other side had machineguns trained in our direction,'
Ralph said. 'We could go down there at night for a wash but
we had to follow a path formed by white tapes. I really learnt
to respect those AIF blokes who nonchalantly smoked and
talked while enemy bullets zapped through the trees.'
Bill Boulton and Harold Kelly in A19-27 led six other
aircraft out of Moresby, through The Gap, and down to
Dobodura where they stayed overnight on 1 June in order to
be ready for an early take-off the next morning. The Oper-
ations Order issued by No. 9 Operational Group directed that
the Beaufighters attack the plantations, tents, huts, houses
and supplies at Bogadjim which, it was thought, might be
occupied by about 600 men. The briefing sheet given to the
crews at the briefing in June Valley was signed by the
Squadron's Operations Controller, Flying Officer G. W.
Holmes, and included the following information:
108
• Beaufighter Callsigns: (CW) Q8R: (Voice) UCALLY
• Authentication Word: CREPUSCULAR
• Fighter Callsigns: HONEY
• Oro Bay Sea Rescue: MARGIN (on 766kcs)
• Bomber Command: YSZ (on 6165kcs)
Airmen who went on that detachment were entitled to
crew pay at the rate of two shillings a day and included Don
Bain, Bill Bartlett, Dick Beynon, Ben Blohm, Les Bromilow,
John Butler, Andy Cowen, Jim Dunn, Alwyn Green, Stan
Jeffries, Trevor Hardy, Roy Meers, Ron Morrison, Geoff
Muncaster, Jack O'Donnell and Jim Ryan.
The Beaufighters left Dobodura at 6.30am, thoroughly
strafed the village of Bogadjim and its environs and landed at
10.10am. They refuelled, took some of the groundstaff on
board, returned to Moresby and landed there at 2.10pm on
2 June.
Villages in the Markham Valley were strafed by a formation
of Beaufighters led by Maurice Ball and Greg Hardman (A19-
6) on 8 June. They were strafed again by another formation
led by Bill Boulton and Keith McCarthy (A19-7) on 11 June.
A19-101 (Joe Newman and Ron Binnie) developed hydraulic
trouble and as the pilot could not get his undercarriage down
he had to make a belly landing at Ward's.
The Army Liaison Officer briefed nine crews about the
villages of Kiapit and Boana which they were to attack on 15
June. The participants were to be:
• Ken Wilson and George Moore (A19-97)
• Bill Cosgrove and Bernie Le Griffon (A19-111)
• Ed Woolcott and Bob Hasenohr (A19-93)
• Keith Nicholson and Ken Delbridge (A19-74) [Reserve.]
109
George Dick, navigator, Milne Bay, July 1943.
(Courtesy George Dick)
Keith Nicholson had started his take-off when Ed Woolcott

was about halfway down the strip. He saw Woolcott's
starboard tyre burst, the aircraft list to one side and slide
along on a propeller and engine cylinders fly through the air.
He was horrified to see A19-93 somersault, crash to earth
towards the end of the strip and burst into flames. Keith flew
through the smoke of the wreckage and took his place in the
formation. The sight of his two friends being incinerated had
upset him considerably and when his starboard engine began
to leak oil as he neared the Owen Stanley Range, he decided
to abandon the mission and return to base. The Medical
Officer was down at the strip as was his custom and the crash
so horrified him that for a second or two he sat rigidly in his
ambulance with his hands gripping the steering wheel. Ed
Woolcott was killed instantly and his body was consumed by
flames so intense that the fire crew were unable to get close to
extinguish then. The rear fuselage of the Beaufighter did not
burn; it was thus possible to gently extricate the unconscious
navigator, place him on a stretcher where he was briefly
examined by Bill Marsh and John Farquhar who then rushed
him to No. 3 Medical Receiving Station. Bob Hasenohr died
110
three days later from massive internal injuries he received
when his body crashed forwards into the edge of his navigation
table.
All aircrew and many groundstaff attended the funeral
services conducted by Padre Kirby. By the end of the war
nearly 4,000 servicemen had been buried in Bomana Cemetery—
a tranquil oasis of green in the brown hills about 20km from
Port Moresby.
When No. 15 Aircraft Repair Depot handed over A19-102
on completion of major repair work, Maurice Ball elected to
take it for a test flight on Saturday 19 June. He went through
all the cockpit checks at the end of the strip and as everything
seemed to be perfectly in order he went ahead with the take-
off. However, he was unable to get the tail to lift so as he
went down the strip he kept easing the throttle forward,
giving a bit of forward stick as well as a bit of forward trim
tab. The aircraft eventually got into the air, still in the tail-
down position and went upwards — just like an elevator — at
a little above stalling speed. He realised that the aircraft
simply wasn't flyable and appreciated that the correct thing
to do was to get back on the ground. So he just cut the motors
and dropped like a brick onto the strip. Being very nearly at
the end of the strip he followed the correct procedure and
collapsed the undercarriage, expecting that one leg would fold
up before the other thus putting the aircraft into a ground
loop and incurring little damage other than bent airscrews.
However, both legs came down together and the Beaufighter
skidded along the last few metres of the runway, skipped over
a ditch and rammed into an earth embankment. The two
fitters who were standing behind the pilot's seat scrambled
over him, opened the top hatch and were out and away within
a second or so of the impact. Maurice was slightly injured
when his forehead struck the gunsight but he was able to undo
his harness, climb out of the burning aircraft and get clear in
case it exploded. His navigator, Greg Hardman, was not
injured in the accident but Bill Marsh took both men in the
ambulance to his sick quarters where they were examined and
treated.
Ill
Investigation showed that the control wires to the trim tabs
had been reversed.
By the middle of the year, Corporal Pivott had made new
entries in the paybooks of airmen who had been reclassified.
Few of them had bothered to adorn the sleeves of their shirts
with metal propellers — the visible indicator of their new
status as Leading Aircraftsmen. They included:
• Fitters IIE — Agnew, Cotterill, Deacon, Edgar, Fenwick,
Horler, Jenkins, Rundmann, Smith L. and Wighton.
• Fitters IIA — Kay, Nipperess, Rowley, Scrimshaw, Tuckwell,
Walker and Wohlfart.
• Flight Riggers — Ampt, Coates, Devlin, Gazzard, Horne
A., Horne E., Navin and Rhodes.
• Flight Mechanics — Allen, Armstrong, Bourne, Brennan,
Edwards, Golledge, Jeffries, Keating, Laing, Lovett,
McNaught, Muncaster, Parker and Reinhard.
• Fitter Armourers — Blohm, Bond, Byles, Collins, Gemmell,
Kenny, Lahne, Mcintosh and Rapsey.
• W / T Operators — Angus, Blackman, Bockman, Britton
and Robertson.
• Wireless Maintenance Mechanics — Clarke, Dorman and
Hunt.
• Electricians—Joyes, Lambert and Leverett.
• Mess Stewards — Fitzpatrick and Smith M.
• Instrument Repairer — Wolff.
• Photographer — Williams.
• Storekeeper—Russell.
Four Beaufighters fulfilled No. 30 Squadron's last oper-
ational mission from Ward's when they joined with RAAF
Bostons in an attack on enemy ground troops on 18 June.
Because of the ridges, ravines and mountain slopes, the
Beaufighters had to attack downhill at Kitchen Creek and
uphill at Stoney Creek — a tactic that was capably handled by
Maurice Ball, Bill Cosgrove, Bob Mills and Arthur Thompson.
Australian groundtroops reported that the strafing was ex-
tremely accurate.
112
CHAPTER EIGHT
Rain, Rain, Rain
I N their push towards Australia during 1942 the Japanese

had taken control of New Britain and the northern part of
New Guinea with the intention of capturing Port Moresby.
Elements of General Hyakutake's Seventeenth Army were to
attack over the Owen Stanley Range and the Navy's Kawaguchi
Force was to take Milne Bay which would be useful as a
strategic air and naval base for a flanking attack on Moresby.
Japanese headquarters had issued a general order for their
Milne Bay operation: 'At the dead of night quickly complete
the landing and strike the white soldiers without reserve.
Unitedly smash to pieces the enemy lines and take the
aerodrome by storm.' Rhetoric such as this was characteristic
of many of the enemy's general orders.
Two Japanese cruisers, three destroyers, two submarine
chasers and two transports came through the entrance to the
Bay and landed enemy soldiers on its northern shore. They
were engaged by elements of Milne Force which consisted of
18th Brigade of the 7th Division AIF and the 7th Militia
Brigade. RAAF Kittyhawks, operating from Gurney in the
most appalling conditions, provided close support; at times
they were firing their guns before their undercarriages were
fully retracted. Nearly 300 of their gun barrels were worn out
after firing some 200,000 rounds of ammunition.
113
But the invasion failed. Field Marshal Slim later wrote: 'It
was the Australian soldiers who first broke the spell of the
invincibility of the Japanese Army.'
The Americans had put 1,600 of their engineers ashore at
Milne Bay and these had constructed No. 1 Strip — Gurney,
named after Squadron Leader C.R. Gurney, a well known
QANTAS pilot on Empire flying boats. This strip was inland
from the head of the bay and was virtually a swamp laid with
a matting of interlocking steel plates forming a runway
1500m long and 24m wide. At first the Kittyhawk pilots
found it extremely difficult to control their aircraft, skidding
and sliding along the slippery metal planks and sometimes
swinging off the runway to bog in the soft mud where
groundstaff sweated in the slush to manhandle them back on
to the runway.
Heavy rain fell non-stop for hours on end. The torrential
downpours covered Gurney Strip with so much water that
waves rose in front of Kittyhawks when they landed. It was
not until the American engineers designed a kind of bulldozer
operated squeegee to sweep away the liquid mud that the strip
was safe for strangers.
Three of No. 30 Squadron's Beaufighters were among the
first batch of strangers to use that strip. Led by Ted Jones, they
flew from Bohle River, through Cairns, and landed at Gurney
on 6 September with orders to assist in the operational
activities of Nos. 75 and 76 Kittyhawk Squadrons and the
Hudsons of No. 6 Squadron. When the crew of one of the
Hudsons reported sighting a Japanese cruiser and destroyer
near Normanby Island, just across the Ward Hunt Strait from
Milne Bay, Beaufighters, Beauforts and Hudsons, with Kitty-
hawks as top cover, were ordered to attack those vessels on 7
September. Unfortunately, A19-13 (Len Vial and Les Hanks)
ran off the slippery metal strip during take-off, hit the
wingtip of a parked Hudson and demolished both aircraft.
The Squadron's first operational mission was undertaken
by Ted Jones and Harry Suthons (A19-49) accompanied by
George Sayer and Ron Shaw (A19-53). They were assigned
114
the task of strafing the enemy ships so that the bombers
would have a clear run for the release of their weapons.
However, neither of the warships was seriously damaged by
the bombing attack.
Harry Suthons noticed that people were surprised to see his
aircraft land at Gurney. It transpired that a Kittyhawk pilot
had reported seeing his aircraft in flames at the target area and
had assumed it had been shot down. What the fighter pilot
had seen were the vivid flashes from the four 20mm cannons
in the nose of the Beaufighter.
Next day the two Beaufighters rejoined the Squadron at
Bohle River but flew back to Milne Bay the following Friday
when aircrew, aircraft and groundstaff of 'A' Flight arrived
there on detachment from North Queensland. The only
operational work given to the detachment during its 14 day
stay at Milne Bay was an occasional reconnaissance sortie of
the islands in the D'Entrecasteaux Group.
In the meantime, the rest of the Squadron had moved out
of Queensland and were now at their operational base at Port
Moresby. Four of the Squadron's groundstaff—Flight Sergeant
Herron, Sergeant Hammond, Corporal Sawtell and LAC
Rhodes — were sent to Milne Bay to remove the usable
equipment from A19-13. They did not blow the aircraft up,
as had been the original intention, because the wreckage was
taken over by a detachment of No. 15 Repair and Salvage
Unit.
Because things at the June Valley camp and down at Ward's
Strip were shaping up reasonably well, the Commanding
Officer decided to replace the 'A' Flight crews and aircraft
with crews and aircraft from 'B' Flight. The new detachment
was to leave for Milne Bay on 25 September and was to
include:
• Cec McKew and Ted Lasscock (A19-3)
• Col Campbell and Jim Yeatman (A19-10)
• Earl Wild and Col Harvey (A19-38)
• Des Moran-Hilford and Bill Clarke (A19-50)
• Jack Sandford and Arthur Jaggs (A19-39)
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On the morning of their departure there was a cross wind
at Ward's and as Jack Sandford's aircraft lifted off it started
to drift to starboard. Some men from a works unit w h o were
doing some airfield maintenance had parked a truck very close
to the strip's edge and its cabin was struck by the Beaufighter's
starboard wheel. The wheel twisted through 90 degrees and
bent backwards, damaging the wing's trailing edge. Ron
Morrison, an airframe fitter, was standing behind the pilot
and saw the worker on the back of the truck make a beautiful
swallow dive into the dirt when he saw the aircraft heading
straight for him. The pilot got his machine airborne, made a
circuit and confirmed that he would be unable to use his flaps
or his undercarriage. He made a flawless belly landing on the
dirt emergency strip at Ward's. Unfortunately, the workmen
were also excavating a drainage ditch across that strip and had
thrown up a metre high pile of earth alongside it. 'The
Beaufighter hit that at about 90 knots,' Ron Morrison said.
'She stood up on her nose, crashed back onto the deck and the
interior was filled with choking dust. The bottom hatch blew
open, flipped me across Sandy, and after both struggling out
through the top hatch, we ran away like hell.' The aircraft's
back was broken and it was a complete write-off.
The day after the other four Beaufighters of the detachment
arrived at Milne Bay they were sent out with a N o . 6
Squadron Hudson piloted by Sergeant W.A. Wheeler on an
anti-shipping strike. Col Harvey, who had not been able
properly to celebrate his birthday the day before, had intended
to do a classic intercept plot but decided against that. Instead,
he estimated the enemy ship's position, flew an appropriate
course and hit his objective on the nose. The four Beaufighters
made their strafing runs first, recording many hits on its
superstructure which was on fire when the formation retired.
The 'B' Flight detachment at Gurney was not over-burdened
with work. The crews completed 10 reconnaissance sorties,
usually by a single aircraft, of the Louisiade Archipelago
between 10 and 18 October but they had nothing significant
to report. Between 12 and 16 October they mounted nine
116
sorties against Kila Mission and enemy encampments on
Goodenough Island.
Because of unserviceabilty, two of the aircraft scheduled to
attack Goodenough targets on 30 October didn't take-off
(A19-3, Cec McKew and Ted Lasscock and A1930, Eric
Lansell and Harry Suthons). Those that undertook that
strafing mission were:
• Brian Walker and John Mason (A19-4)
• Peter Parker and Harold O'Connor (A19-28)
• Ron Uren and John Maguire (A19-33)
• Dick Roe and Bill Clarke (A19-55)
• Col Campbell and Cliff Witheford (A19-10)
The Commanding Officer had flown down from Moresby
to see how his detachment was faring and following his report
to Group Captain Garing at No. 9 Operational Group, the
personnel and aircraft were withdrawn to their operational
base at Ward's Strip. No more Beaufighter operational sorties
were mounted from Milne Bay during the next eight months,
although the Squadron was involved in travel flights to
Gurney and Turnbull.
In June 1943 Bill Boulton and Dave Beasley made a travel
flight to Milne Bay and Goodenough with the Air Officer
Commanding as passenger. The normal procedure after take-
off from Turnbull was to fly eastwards for about 35km,
round the northern finger of land and set a northerly course.
'Maybe Bill wanted to impress Air Commodore Hewitt,' said
Dave, 'for as soon as he got his wheels up he turned sharply to
port and tried to literally claw his way up the steep side of the
mountain range forming the northern spine.' Dave had his
eyes glued to his airspeed indicator, whose needle was hovering
around the 90 knots mark. 'How we never slipped backward
or stalled during that frighteningly steep climb I'll never
know.'
No. 30 Squadron sent a detachment down to Milne Bay on
29 June 1943: five Beaufighters took 10 groundstaff as
passengers; the remainder went down in two Dakotas. Wally
117
Crouch was aboard 'Sleepy Saloon', whilst others were aboard
'Dear M o m ' . The groundstaff party consisted of:
• Engine Fitters: Flight Sergeant Ferrier, Sergeants Cowen
and Beynon, Corporal M c M a h o n and LACs Deacon and
Maddox.
• Airframe Fitters: Flight Sergeant Forde, Sergeants Schofield
and Morrison, Corporals Meers and Mortimer and LAC
James
• Flight Mechanics: LACs Armstrong, Edwards, Golledge,
H o m e , Keating, Maddock, Rawlinson and Smith.
• Flight Riggers: LACs Carmichael, Collins, Gazzard, Navin,
Ryan, Simpson, Webster and Woodhead.
• Fitter A r m o u r e r s : C o r p o r a l s C r o u c h , H a n s e n , and
Mackenzie, LACs Blohm, Collins, Kenney and Rapsey.
• Armourers: Sergeant Forrester, Corporals Eakins, Ellis, and
Foster, LACs Gemmell, Hardy and Smith.
• Instrument Repairers: LACs Hewitt and Thompson.
• Wireless Maintenance Mechanic: Corporal Dorman.
• Electricians: LACs Bromilow and Butler.
• Radar Mechanic: Corporal Evans.
Ken Golledge and the Army Liaison Officer were detailed
to go down to Milne Bay in the aircraft piloted by Ted
Marron. The officer turned up at the aircraft with his tent,
camp stretcher, typewriter, steel cabinet, assorted boxes and
personal gear. After all that was stowed on board, a truck
arrived with crates of canteen supplies for the detachment.
Although the pilot managed to get his heavily-loaded Beau-
fighter off the strip at Ward's, he had a deal of difficulty in
bringing it to a stop on the slippery and much shorter
Turnbull Strip.
On the first night .it Milne Bay a few desultory shots from
Smith & Wesson pistols were fired at the hordes of flying
foxes which flew into the camp area at dusk. The next night
there were even more pistol shots, accompanied by rifle shots,
and by the fourth night the air was rent by a veritable
fusillade of shots. A notice in Routine Orders stipulated that
118
the firing had to stop. Some nights later Don West accidentally
discharged his pistol while it was being cleaned and the shot
alarmed the black Americans in a nearby tent; they must have
thought that their production of jungle juice was under
threat. According to Don nearly every soldier in that American
engineer's camp had a still going, and they were all making
what they referred to as 'moonshine likker.'
The day after the Beaufighters landed at Turnbull three
successive details, each consisting of two aircraft, were sent
out on convoy escort duties. The convoy consisted of two
destroyers and six landing ships tanks of the 4th Echelon,
en-route to Woodlark Island in connection with Operation
Chronicle. Similar sorties were mounted on the 1, 2, 10, 12
and 14 July. Because of bad weather the four aircraft involved
in the mission on 14 July had to land at Vivigani, the newly
constructed airfield on Goodenough Island. These were:
• Mike Burrows and Alf Burgoyne (A19-33)
• Bill Cosgrove and Bernie Le Griffon (A19-111)
• Sid Wallace and Harold Kelly (A19-107)
Air activity over the next six days virtually ceased due to
appallingly bad weather in the whole area. There were
occasions when the rain was so heavy that Keith Nicholson
had to shut down his engines or delay his take-off until he
could see the other end of Turnbull Strip. On 10 July he was
waiting for the deluge to abate so that he could get away on
convoy escort duty when the sight of a bunch of bedraggled
seagulls walking along the strip prompted his navigator, Ken
Delbridge, to question why they were trying to fly when even
the seagulls had given it up.
But the hazards of a take-off in poor weather were relatively
minor in comparison to re-entry of the Bay from the China
Strait. The Bay was just 11km wide at its entrance and
extended westwards for some 32km. The three strips were at
the head of the Bay, near the village of Gili Gili. High and
heavily-wooded mountains pressed in from three sides, leaving
119
only a narrow coastal strip soggy with sago palms and
mangrove swamps. Some of the summits within 10km of the
strips were more than 8,000 feet above sea level. Thick low
cloud, heat generated mists or torrential rain made for greatly
reduced visibility from the air. Tracking up the Bay through
the storm cells was a nightmare and the crew exposed
themselves to great risk if they relied t o o heavily on the radio
beacon which was meant to guide them up the centre of the
Bay. Moreover, crews were always conscious of the ack-ack
batteries positioned along the north and south coastal strips.
The batteries would be tracking an aircraft they couldn't see
for the murk and might fire if they suspected that the unseen
aircraft was a Japanese raider.
Milne Bay was wet, wet, wet and the aircrew had no
difficulty in believing that the rainfall was 10 metres a year.
The military installations there were overshadowed by the
ominous mass of the Stirling Range and other fearsome
looking mountains. Heavy rain swept down their steep slopes
and invariably brought flash flooding to the creeks and rivers
that emptied into the Bay and as these were often preceded by
a wall of water, a man was usually stationed up-river to
sound a warning. Since the camps, military installations and
the strips were in low lying areas not far from the shoreline,
that warning was necessary to ensure that equipment was
stowed on racks or shelves at least 45cm above ground level.
Soldiers seldom wore their rubber capes since they preferred
to get soaked by clean rain rather than by rivers of perspiration.
Many of them wore gas goggles to protect their eyes from the
stinging attack of wind-driven rain. Young pythons often
deserted their waterlogged homes of decaying coconut husks
and sought out the warmth of men in their beds. During night
time storms it was common to hear the screams of startled
airmen as they vacated their beds and hurtled out of their
tents, leaving their unwelcome visitors in total possession.
In the early hours of 13 July, Col Weill and Don Kirkwood —
who had been on convoy escort duty the previous day — were
brought to startled wakefulness by a screaming airman. One
120
of the airframe fitters — believed to be Ron James — had run
into their tent yelling that a slimy snake had slithered down
his chest and curled up in the w a r m space between his legs.
Neither the pilot nor the navigator volunteered to oust the
reptile from the airman's tent.
T h e tents were spread under the coconut palms of a Lever
Brothers' plantation, and the detachment was parented by
N o . 100 Squadron, known as the Fiery Mo Squadron, com-
manded by Wing Commander Bill Lear. George Robertson
found it difficult to detect more than a few fair hairs on the
upper lips of the young officers trying to emulate the luxuriant
gingery red growth sported by their Commanding Officer. Bill
Lear's insistence on stringent precautions resulted in a decrease
in the incidence of malaria but Arthur Ferrier considered the
place to be unhealthy for other reasons; one of his men was
having a smoke in the shade of a palm tree when a sizeable
nut dropped off, smashed into his right elbow and broke his
arm in three places.
The foul weather forced the men of the Beaufighter detach-
ment to stay in their tents for most of the time and although
cards and other indoor games occupied them for a day or so,
they soon became bored and took to their cots. This short
essay by Milton H o w a r d was pinned up on the noticeboard in
the crew room until it was ripped down by a senior officer:
Spine bashing is an art. If it is to be practised to the finest

degree, it involves talents both physical and mental. It is not
sufficient merely to assume a horizontal posture and let it go at
that. To secure maximum gratification while in the prone
position the mind should be completely relaxed and conscious of
the sheer joy of sprawling on the chosen spot in blissful
abandon. The more daring exponents, however, find the relaxed
style to be dull and uninteresting.
The most widely used equipment is, of course, the common
camp stretcher. That is excellent for the novice. However, the
superior class of spine bashers often take great pains to construct
a personal couch on which to recline, using material such as
121
camouflage netting, discarded canvas, or chicken wire. Spine
bashing hours are controlled by either personal taste, hours of
work, level of supervision, the climate, the perambulations of
the Disciplinary Warrant Officer or local conventions. Some
forward units do not have sufficient spine bashing facilities for
everyone, so they display notices restricting their use to 30
minutes per session.
While spine bashing is frowned on by stoics as destroying
both body and soul, there is much to be said for it from the
point of view of personal morale. To the dilettante it may
perhaps be just a physical escape from the trials of Milne Bay.
But to the true artist it remains a consummate physical and
mental recreation which is highly suitable for those days of rain,
rain, and more rain.
Even when it was not raining the air was moist and clammy.
Shirts, socks, singlets, slacks, towels and bedding were always
damp. Writing pads were so soggy that ink applied from the
bottle with a steel pen nib smudged on the page. Envelope
flaps became firmly stuck down. Leather boots, belts, wallets,
pouches, rifle slings, bayonet scabbards and suchlike acquired
a repulsive coating of mildew or green mould. Les Bromilow
threw away t w o leather watchface covers because the straps
had rotted and had absorbed the pervasive Milne Bay odour as
well as his own sweat. Frank Forde tossed away the shaving
brush given to him by his father when the bristles fell out
because the moisture had loosened the glue.
The prevailing conditions also affected aircraft equipment.
John Butler worked valiantly to keep all the electrical systems
dry. John Evans worked equally hard to prevent moisture
from affecting circuits in the IFF gear. Ron Dorman had great
difficulty in maintaining the A T 5 / A R 8 radio equipment at
peak performance — the rubber seals around the navigator's
cupolas in A19-33, A19-54 and A19-107 were perished and
could not prevent water from dripping down on to the
wireless sets. Col Harvey set up radio communications between
Turnbull and Ward's Strips but the reception was weak,
122
perhaps because of the meteorological conditions and the
nature of the intervening terrain. Don Angus closed down the
watch on the fifth day.
When the weather improved to the extent that flying could
be resumed from Turnbull Strip, two Beaufighters flew across
to New Britain on 20 July to make a visual and photographic
reconnaissance of Gasmata. The report brought back by
Clarrie Glasscock and Ray Kelley (A19-104) and the accom-
panying crew, Keith Nicholson and Ken Delbridge (A19-74),
indicated that the Japanese base was being strengthened. As a
result of that intelligence, Air Commodore Hewitt ordered
the largest mission by Australian aircraft up to that time and
issued orders to five of the squadrons in No. 9 Operational
Group:
• No. 22 Squadron — 6 Bostons
• No. 30 Squadron — 8 Beauf ighters
• No. 75 Squadron — 24 Kittyhawks
• No. 77 Squadron —14 Kittyhawks
• No. 100 Squadron —10 Beauforts
Each of No. 77 Squadron's Kittyhawks, which staged
through Goodenough for this mission, carried six 18kg bombs.
The aircraft were to carry out low level bombing and strafing
after the heavier bombers had done their work but, to their
dismay, thick cloud and heavy rain prevented them from
reaching the target area.
No. 22 Squadron had been withdrawn from support of the
Army at Mubo and had moved to Goodenough during July.
Their Bostons took off from Vivigani at 6.44am on 22 July
for the attack on Gasmata, where they destroyed the building
which housed the wireless installation, machinegunned the
station and fired at everything that moved. They were still
hammering away when the eight Beaufighters arrived so it
was some time before they could start on their strafing attack.
Their crews reported that low cloud and poor visibility
prevented them from observing the results of their actions but
they believed they had scored a considerable success. The
123
ground defences had been stirred up by the time the Beau-
fighters arrived, but they sustained only minor damage:
• A19-104 (Bob Mills and Bill Coleman) was holed by
12.7mm bullets.
• A19-106 (Col Wein and Don Kirkwood) was holed by
12.7mm bullets.
• A19-111 (Len Hastwell and Don West) was holed by
12.7mm bullets.
• A19-74 (Keith Nicholson and Ken Delbridge) had under-
carriage trouble.
• A19-54 (Graeme Hunt and Arthur Hodges) had about
45cm of its port wingtip blown off by medium ack-ack.
On his return to Turnbull, Graeme came in too fast and
didn't touch down until he was past the Duty Pilot's tower
and heading for the river at the western end. So he applied his
brakes and then ground looped two or three times on the
slippery steel planking. He and his navigator were badly
shaken by the episode but the pilot managed to avoid further
damage to his aircraft.
Maurice Ball was chosen to lead the next mission. 'I only
did one job that required a night take-off, [and] that was on
23 July when I took off from Milne Bay to do an armed
reconnaissance from Jacquinot Bay to Gasmata.' There was
heavy cloud when he and Greg Hardman left Turnbull in
A19-104. Vivid flashes of lightning lit up the clouds as they
flew towards their landfall in New Britain and passed through
the front. 'It was as rough as hell,' Maurice said, 'to the
extent that my wingman [Ken Wilson and George Moore in
A19-53], instead of flying alongside, flew just above and
behind, where it was easier to follow the erratic movements
of my aircraft caused by the storm's turbulence.'
An early morning reconnaissance of the coast of New
Britain by two Beaufighters on 25 July brought further success
as shown by the abbreviated Mission Summary:
At 0640 sighted a 150 ton enemy ship 5 miles north-east of Cape

Cunningham. A19-132 [Joe Newman, Ron Binnie and Col
124
Harvey] attacked it across the beam with a burst along the
waterline to the deck. An explosion occurred as the Beaufighter
passed over, and grey smoke billowed out. The explosion rocked
the ship and it eventually stopped. A19-87 [Ted Marron and
Vern Gollan] attacked from the stern, causing fires near the
deckhouse. Lifeboat was lowered, strafed, riddled. Both aircraft
made further runs and when they left, the ship was wallowing
and sinking. Ship may have had wooden hull. It carried oil
drums on deck.
An attack on Ring Ring Plantation was ordered on 26 July.

Eight Beaufighters joined with a formation of Bostons and
although they encountered ack-ack fire at Gasmata, the only
aircraft to sustain damage was A19-107 (Sid Wallace and
Harold Kelly). Each of the No. 30 Squadron aircraft involved
in the attack that day made at least two runs across the target,
during which the huts behind the jetty were thoroughly
strafed. The aircraft landed at Turnbull at 5.20pm after a
flight lasting four hours 40 minutes.
That afternoon two aircraft were sent off on an armed
reconnaissance of the coast from Jacquinot Bay to Gasmata,
during which the navigators (Alf Burgoyne in A19-33, and
Bill Coleman in A19-87) took a considerable number of
photographs which were of great interest to the intelligence
officers. Six aircraft went out the following morning to
attack, in conjunction with Beauforts of No. 100 Squadron, a
number of beached vessels near Cape Ludtke.
The Squadron had a rest for the next three days. On
Thursday 29 July three Beaufighters carried out an early
morning barge sweep from Aloe Passage to Lindenhaven
without result. The Squadron's last operation out of Milne
Bay was to be a barge sweep from Cape Archway to Gasmata
by Graeme Hunt and Arthur Hodges in A19-132 with Ken
Wilson and George Moore in A19-53. They took off at 4am
on 1 August. 'We ran into the most severe and frightening
electrical storm that I've ever seen in all my life,' said George.
'We were very, very lucky to come out of it alive, find our way
125
to Goodenough, and put ourselves on the ground.' Ken had
flown operationally in the Middle East but his experience of
the storm was so unnerving that he took himself off flying
duties and returned to Australia later that month.
With the lodgement of Admiral Halsey's marines on Bougan-
ville, the remaining portions of the plan determined by
General MacArthur in February 1943 (Plan Elkton) were to
push the enemy beyond the Sepik River and to capture bases
in New Britain. The achievement of those objectives would
permit the mounting of further operations westwards along
the New Guinea coast and then northwards to the Philippines.
The General had abandoned his original plan of capturing
Rabaul in favour of neutralising it but he still thought it
necessary to land in west New Britain, for that would
effectively break the Bismark barrier and give him control of
the Vitiaz Strait.
RAAF squadrons were scheduled to play a large part in
operations against the Japanese in New Britain and some were
ordered closer to that island; the lesser distance to targets
would enable an increase in weapons loads and allow aircraft
to be given fighter cover for some of their operations.
No. 30 Squadron was ordered to move to Goodenough
Island.
126
CHAPTER NINE
Operations from
Vivigani Strip
ING Commander Glasscock had known about the

proposed move to Goodenough but the formal instruc-
tion was not issued until 12 July. Although classified, everyone
in the unit knew that they would soon be leaving Moresby
and had begun to sort out what to take and what to leave
behind. In the event they took practically everything — not
just the official RAAF equipment but things such as their
homemade furniture, disused crates, empty barrels, pieces of
metal and lengths of timber.
RAAF units were not mobility conscious at that stage and
had little or no experience of the logistics task associated with
rapid deployments. Dealing with movements which took
place after the capture of Cape Gloucester, George Odgers
wrote that commanders had to discard many of the odds and
ends which had been 'collected by a continuous process of
scrounging and magpieing.' Air Commodore Scherger was
quite ruthless in seeing that units did not amass equipment
which merely bogged them down and made them more or less
static. He considered that scrounging was 'a characteristic
only of a Service which has been, or is, starved of adequate
supplies for all its requirements.'
The June Valley campsite became littered with piled crates
and loose equipment relevant to a unit of over 400 men and
127
some 24 aircraft based in a war zone. Jim Shawcroft, a golf
professional from Geelong, sought the aid of Bud Russell and
other stores personnel in compiling a movement schedule but
a heavy afternoon storm on 24 July had them scurrying
around the site throwing tarpaulins over the stacked equip-
ment. After the living tents were struck and the kitchens were
closed down, the 12 men of the rear party — which included
Joe Erskine and George Dusting — were moved to temporary
accommodation at No. 42 Operational Base Unit in June
Valley. The remainder were taken to Konedobu. Cliff Clohesy
said that although their eventual destination was supposed to
be a closely guarded secret, each of the trucks that left the
Squadron's now vacant campsite had the words 'Curly's
Circus Goes To Goodenough' chalked on its side. Adjutant
Wearne was not at all amused.
The sea echelon was accommodated for the night with No.
62 Works Wing where they slept on the ground in some old
tin huts. The Adjutant ordered all personnel to turn out for a
parade at 1.30pm on Sunday, 25 July; after an inspection of
kit, small arms and gas masks, the men were taken to the
wharf in trucks, marched across the Peter Sylvester and on to
the West Cactus. Don Angus failed to be impressed by their
evening meal — soup, minced beef, beans, cheese and the
inevitable dog biscuits. Parties of Australian soldiers and
American servicemen, bound for Milne Bay, also boarded the
ship during the night. Few of the airmen were able to sleep
because of the grinding, squealing and thumping noises made
by the ship's winches being used to load more cargo into the
holds.
The vessel pulled away at 6.25am the following morning.
It turned out to be a blustery day, with low clouds and a
choppy sea; many of the passengers became seasick and the
rails were lined by glassy-eyed airmen who appeared to be
taking interest in the heaving water below them. Four of the
unit's guards — Bill Haupt, Ralph Lizaars, Wally Mclvor and
Bill Pringle — felt rather superior to their fellow passengers,
for their stomachs were not affected by the ship's motion.
128
Harry Tayler, who had been a member of a pre-war Citizen
Military Forces unit, stood amidships and was intrigued by
the flight patterns of the American Mitchells which flew over
and around the ship and the Corvette on escort duty.
Life on board what the airmen believed to have been a
cattle ship was rough in the extreme. The men were accom-
modated down in one of the cavernous, hot, noisy and airless
holds where the conditions were so bad that many of them
elected to sleep in the open up on deck. The only space that
Eric Hughes could find in the dark was beside the ship's rail,
which was nothing more than a pair of wire hawsers. He was
lucky that the ship didn't roll too much during the night, else
he might have been tipped overboard.
The airmen were served hard tack during the voyage,
whereas the American passengers were not only eating better
meals provided by the ship's kitchen but were consuming
between meals snacks from tins of emergency rations. They
didn't care for the plain biscuits in those rations so they tossed
them down to the hungry airmen on the deck below. Geoff
Muncaster remarked that the incident reminded him of feeding
time at the zoo.
When the West Cactus anchored off Goodenough Island at
3pm on Wednesday, 28 July, the men had to disembark via a
steep and swinging ladder and jump onto a rising and falling
pontoon. The smallest man in the squadron mis-timed his
jump, landing on the bobbing pontoon when it was at the
bottom of a wave trough, and letting go of his rifle which
dropped into the deep water of the anchorage. Adjutant
Wearne was persuaded not to put the distraught young man
on a charge for losing his weapon.
On 2 August the sea echelon was joined by the Milne Bay
detachment and on that day the Squadron despatched seven
Beaufighters from Vivigani Strip on operational sorties to
New Britain. Two aircraft went on an early morning barge
sweep — Bill Cosgrove and Bernie Le Griffon (A19-106) with
Graeme Hunt and Arthur Hodges (A19-132). Later that day,
an attack was made on Gasmata by Bostons, Kittyhawks and
Beaufighters:
129
• Clarrie Glasscock and Ray Kelley (A19-55) strafed an ack-
ack position between the runway and the sea.
• Maurice Ball and Greg Hardman (A19-106) silenced an
ack-ack gun.
• Bob Mills and Bill Coleman (A19-104) attacked an ack-
ack position at the northern end of the runway.
• Mike Burrows and Alf Burgoyne (A19-33) strafed an ack-
ack position at one side of the runway.
• Joe Newman and Ron Binnie (A19-132) fired into the
dispersal area at the western end of the runway.
The entire Squadron was accommodated with No. 41

Operational Base Unit while its own camp was being dev-
eloped. No. 5 Mobile Works Squadron cleared and levelled
the sites on which native style huts were erected for the
messes, the sick quarters and the operations/intelligence
sections. The Squadron occupied its new campsite on the
seaward slope of a hill at the northern end of Vivigani Strip
on 23 August, whereupon the men got to work to make their
tents more comfortable. John McRobbie and Clive Cooke
were among those who smartened up the external appearance
by constructing a rock bordered garden bed. Jeff Heath made
another unsuccessful attempt to get crops of pumpkins and
tomatoes from seeds sent up by his sister whilst Don Joyes, an
agriculturalist, planted some banana shoots near his tent.
Goodenough is about 38km in diameter from north to south
and has a line of six peaks near its centre, the highest being
Mount Vineuo at 2,536m. The river valleys are deeply etched
into the volcanic massif and their extremely steep sides are
internationally known features of the island. On the island's
eastern side is a 5km wide coastal plain of raised coral reef.
Vivigani Strip was built on that plain close to the shore of
Bola Bola Bay, with its white coral runway bearing 170/350
degrees. Most of the wartime military establishments were
scattered between the strip and Mud Bay, the pre-war focus of
European settlement, which possessed two small jetties. The
island is heavily wooded and Joe Green recalls seeing Adjutant
130
Wearne's astonishment when he first saw the place. In the
belief that the Squadron was moving to a bare desert island,
the Adjutant had insisted that every scrap of wood be
removed from the June Valley camp and taken on board the
West Cactus.
Beaufighters had been to Goodenough before. Peter Parker
and Harold O'Connor (A19-28) with Ron Uren and John
Maguire (A19-33) had attacked targets on the south of the
island during their detachment at Milne Bay the previous
October. Some 300 Japanese had been marooned at Kila
Mission after the Kittyhawks of No. 76 Squadron had
destroyed their barges on the eve of the enemy's attempt to
capture Milne Bay.
The planners at No. 9 Operational Group were anxious for
the Beaufighters to mount maximum effort against enemy
barges and aerodromes in New Britain immediately. But there
were delays. Gwynne Davies, Andy Herron and Wally Bell
were concerned that the area allotted to the Squadron's
aircraft was not quite finished, hence the Beaufighters had to
be parked close together along one of the taxiways pending
completion of the dispersal bays. They were also concerned
that Servicing Flight was unable to set up its workshops until
certain earthworks had been completed and a bulldozer had
carved out a road through their area and down to the wharf.
When some sort of order was eventually established the
groundstaff were able to start their inspections of A19-87 and
the repair of other Beaufighters which had major unservice-
abilities.
Bill Cosgrove, a one time player with the Richmond
Football Club, regarded A19-111 as his aircraft and its nose
bore a painting of a tiger's head — the symbol of his erstwhile
club. But as the groundcrew were not able to repair a sheared
tail wheel pin in time for him to fly that aircraft on a
operational sortie set down for 11 August, he went off at 4.55
that morning in A19-74.
He crashed into the sea about 2km beyond the strip and
between Vivigani Anchorage and Bola Bola.
131
Later that day, George Dusting saw the badly broken-up
Beaufighter from the air; it was lying on a reef in about a
metre of water. Examination of the controls suggested that
the pilot might have taken off with his propellers in the
wrong pitch. Those aircrew not engaged on flying duties, and
many of the Squadron's groundstaff, attended Bill's funeral
on the island at 5.45pm that day. T h e body of the navigator,
Bernie Le Griffon, was never recovered.
Flight Sergeant William Nicholas Pax Cosgrove was no
novice pilot. This 'Letter to the Editor', signed by VX of
Richmond, appeared in a Melbourne sporting newspaper:
Recently, after three years service in Abyssinia, Irak [Sic], Syria,

Libya, Egypt and Java, the death in New Guinea of a particularly
intrepid airman was announced. At the time of his passing he
held the exalted rank of flight sergeant!
Behind his impressive list of campaigns there stand over 60
operational sorties and all the flying hours associated with them.
They were gained when the roar of the Luftwaffe and Nippon
air forces mocked the skies with their air ascendancy. When in
Java, the Japanese ground forces finally captured his drome.
Although suffering from a bullet wound, he escaped to trudge
through tortuous territory to a seaport 50 miles away. There,
with 11 other fliers, he commenced a 44 day journey in an open
boat to Australia.
Apart from his flying ability he was marked as 'above
average'. He was the possessor of a fine personality.
Although Goodenough was a most attractive location and

there were good prospects for interesting ground and air
activities, the morale of the men declined for one main
reason — the poor quality of the food. Because of a breakdown
in the ration supply arrangements, the meal situation for the
first few weeks was deplorable. Don West was one of the
many who were disgusted. 'Whether you were on a job or had
a rest day,' he said, 'you'd sit down to breakfast in the Mess
and they'd serve you with six miserable sticks of asparagus
132
sitting on a piece of dry toast alongside a slice of greasy fried
bully beef.'
The story going the rounds at the time was that the barge
bringing the rations from the Army depot in New Guinea had
run aground near Milne Bay. But Captain Gill, an Army
Liaison Officer, believed that the Australian Army had shucked
off supply responsibility for units located outside of New
Guinea. The men would have accepted their normal but
unappetising scale of rations since it was normal for any
military situation to be fouled up (SNAFU) but there was
general discontent because things were really fouled up
(TARFU).
From about the first week in August, the Americans took
on the supply of rations to Australian units on Goodenough.
The steep and winding road to their depot went past the
Squadron's camp and by a variety of ruses the airmen saw to
it that fewer cases were on the trucks when they arrived at the
depot than when the trucks had picked up their loads from
the supply ships. The general scheme involved one or two
airmen to get the black American truck driver to slow down
or pause at some strategic spot during the ascent, at which
time a boarding party would leap onto the back and toss out a
dozen or so cases to the runners, who had the job of hiding the
loot in the long kunai grass.
The cases would later be broken open and the tinned goods
shared out among the participants. American Military Police
never found where the stolen rations were hidden. In a
number of instances they had been hidden in pits under the
tent's floorboards and the location of tins of sausages, bacon,
peaches, plums, cream or whatever, were shown on a site
plan. Doug Raffen and George Dick shared a number of
appetising suppers with their groundcrew, who retrieved the
desired items from their in-ground pit.
Only five days after the tragic accident to A19-74 and its
crew, A19-130, flown by the Commanding Officer, crashed
into the sea off a nearby small island. That Beaufighter had
recently arrived from Forest Hill and after Servicing Party had
133
completed their acceptance checks, Wing Commander Clarrie
Glasscock took it up on a test flight on 16 August. He took
his brother, Wing Commander J.H. Glasscock, and his navi-
gator, Flying Officer Ray Kelley, in the aircraft.
Group Captain McLachlan ordered Kittyhawks, Spitfires
and Beaufighters to carry out searches around Goodenough
when he learned that the Commanding Officer was overdue.
During a circuit of nearby Fergusson Island, Maurice Ball
sighted the aircraft lying in about 10m of water in Hughes
Bay on the northern coast of Fergusson. He sent a radio
message that the three officers were on the beach and appeared
to be uninjured; they were rescued, taken back to Goodenough
and given a medical examination by Bill Marsh. The two
brothers had intended to go to No. 5 Mobile Works Squadron
that evening to see a show by a visiting USO party but that
was cancelled because of heavy rain.
Quite presentable open air entertainment venues had been
built at their camps by Nos. 5 and 7 Mobile Works Squadrons
and as these had been fitted out with rows of planks, there
was no need for anyone to take his own seat. Some of the
movies screened at The Rex included Yankee Doodle Dandy,
The Man Who Came to Dinner, Born to Sing, Casablanca,
Million Dollar Playboy, One-Way Ticket, and Lucky Partners.
Gary Cooper was the star performer of a USO concert
party that entertained the servicemen on the island, and
whose turns were thoroughly enjoyed by Ray Bourne, Trevor
Hardy and Max Boyd. Another USO party of singers from
the Metropolitan Opera delighted an audience with their
performance at No. 5 Mobile Works Squadron's theatre on 7
October. There was a concert at No. 77 Squadron's camp on
4 October by a visiting troupe and at a concert held at No. 7
Mobile Works on 16 October, two musicians from No. 30
Squadron — Cress Clark and Alf Hunt — entertained the
audience with popular numbers. George Drury, who was
doing a second tour in the tropics as a Beaufighter pilot,
brought the house down with his comedy turn.
An election for the House of Representatives and half the
134
Senate was held on 21 August and military authorities made
special arrangements for Australian servicemen to vote. The
Squadron's camp was declared as a polling place and four
officers sat at tables on sloping ground near the strip to
handle the ballot papers. Adjutant Wearne flitted from table
to table in his role as supervisor and general answerman.
Only three missions were mounted against defended Japanese
air force installations during August — all of them against
Gasmata. Five Beaufighters went there on 2 August, three on
23 August and three more on 25 August. However, the
Squadron undertook 52 barge sweep sorties around New
Britain during the month. Allied reconnaissance during July
and August showed that there were some 300 barges in
eastern New Guinea and western New Britain and it was
assumed that many more were hidden along the usual routes.
Compared to the risky but exciting tasks carried out by
Allied medium and heavy bombers, attacking a small barge
may have seemed small beer to some critics of the Beaufighter
squadron and its activities. In his admirable story of the
Kittyhawks in the Pacific War, John Vader wrote: 'Probably
the simplest and easiest action to accomplish — the destruction
of barges — was the most strategically damaging to the enemy.'
He pointed out that the destruction of seven barges at
Goodenough in July 1942 cancelled the overland flank attack
on Milne Bay. Furthermore, the destruction of other barges
during the landing within the Bay spoiled the ship-to-shore
ferrying facilities, thereby reducing the enemy's on-ground
capability and adversely affecting the recovery of his defeated
forces.
As a result of discussions among the aircrew, the Beau-
fighters on barge sweeps now flew in pairs: one aircraft
followed the shoreline at a height of about 33 feet while the
other stayed about 330 yards out to sea and at a height of
about 980 feet. That flight pattern increased the chances of
detecting barges hidden under trees and made for a better
attack run by the second aircraft. Intelligence staff at the
Operational Group were able to nominate useful search areas
135
because they were in possession of a captured Japanese map of
New Britain on which were drawn the active barge routes and
their hiding places.
During the month of August there had been some personnel
changes:
• Gwynne Hughes had been granted a commission.
• Ron Binnie and George Dick had been promoted to flying
officer rank.
• Ken Delbridge, Vern Gollan, Harold Kelly, Don Kirkwood,
Don Miller, George Moore and Col Wein had been pro-
moted to flight sergeant rank.
• Ken Barber, Theo Boehm, John Brooks, Fred Catt, Bert
Claire, Bill Davis, Bob Maguire, Bill Masterton, Les Turn-
bull and Harold Woodroffe had been posted in for flying
duties.
• George Moore, Charles Williams and Ken Wilson had been
posted south on the expiration of their tropical tours.
• Having passed their trade tests, three airmen had been
remustered: LAC Lawrence from Messman to Motor Cyclist,
LAC Sharpe from Guard to Motor Cyclist and AC1 Baird
from Armament Assistant to Shoemaker.
A number of senior officers visited the Squadron during
August: Group Captain Charlesworth (of Forward Echelon),
Group Captain Knox (Director of Works and Buildings),
Squadron Leader McFadyn (Area Provost Marshal) and
Squadron Leader Angus (of North-Eastern Area Canteen
Services). The Bar Officer noted that the visitors had not
performed the usual courtesy of contributing to his limited
bar stock; perhaps they were unaware that as a result of a
quiet word to the staff of the Aircrew Mess, they were served
sub-standard meals during their stay.
As at 31 August 1943 the Squadron had 16 Beaufighters on
strength (of which 10 were serviceable) and 26 aircrew (of
which 23 were available for flying duties). That was an
improvement on the situation which had existed on 17
August, when only four aircraft went out in response to
136
the order from No. 9 Operational Group for all available
Beaufighters to carry out a barge sweep. They were to sweep
from Cape Gouffre to Cape Bushing and then from Heldsbach
to Langemak Bay:
• Clarrie Glasscock and Col Harvey (A19-97)
• Len Hastwell and Don West (A19-104)
• Sid Wallace and Harold Kelly (A19-54)
Clarrie Glasscock, Commanding Officer, and his aircrews, Goodenough,

September 1943. (Courtesy Vern Gollan)
Two aircraft that had been nominated to be part of the

formation, A19-33 (Bill Boulton and Keith McCarthy) and
A19-87 (Graeme Hunt and Arthur Hodges), had engine
trouble and did not get away. The other aircraft were airborne
by 4.51am, and landed by 9.06am, having expended 1,000
rounds of 20mm and 3,000 rounds of 7.7mm ammunition.
Extracts from the narrative report suggest that the Japanese
were using fewer barges or were taking greater pains to hide
them:
Landfall was made at Cape Pedder. While searching the Itni

River near Cape Bushing, W/Cdr Glasscock, F/O Wallace and
137
F/O Hastwell attacked a barge which, on closer inspection,
appeared unserviceable.
W/Cdr Glasscock attacked a barge in a small bay just north
of Heldsbach. The barge appeared serviceable before the attack,
and was empty. It was partly on the beach on the west side of the
bay. Nil personnel were observed. The barge is claimed as
damaged.
F/O Raffen sighted 5 or 6 well camouflaged barges moored to
the south bank of the Mape River (Langemak Bay) about two
miles from the mouth. The barges were spread over an area of
3-400 yards under the overhanging trees. Due to heavy camou-
flage, it was impossible to tell if loaded or otherwise. F / O
Raffen made several runs over three of the barges, but due to the
awkward position of the others, could not attack them. Hits
were observed, and after the attack, slight smoke could be seen.
The three barges are claimed as damaged.
In Finschaven Harbour two Japs were sighted in a rowing
boat. F / O Raffen was about to turn and attack them when he
sighted the barges in the Mape River and proceeded to attack
them.
Arthur Jordan took over as Adjutant early in September

when Cyril Wearne was posted south, an event welcomed by
many of the airmen for it meant a suspension of daily
parades. The following week a posting came through for Ted
Good. 'Ted deserves credit for his work under difficulties,'
wrote one of the armourers. ' H e was a man of compassion
and always did his best with the funeral arrangements—often
under extreme difficulties.' His place as Disciplinary Warrant
Officer was taken by Henry Ross w h o thought that things
were too slack in the Squadron and decided to throw his
weight about. He told the airmen that their air raid trenches
were most unsatisfactory and ordered the men to make the
trenches 'four-be-four, by four-be-four, by four-be-four, be-
fore next Monday.'
General MacArthur had decided that the invasion of the
M a r k h a m Valley would start on 4 September 1943; his first
138
aim was to capture the airfields and then expel the Japanese
from the entire Huon Gulf area. Accordingly, elements of the
Fifth Air Force intensified their bombardment of targets at
Wewak, Alexishaven, Lae and Finschaven, whilst RAAF
squadrons increased their offensive efforts.
During September the focus of No. 30 Squadron's attention
was the enemy barge traffic along the northern and southern
coasts of New Britain. Operations Orders were prepared for
103 sorties by Beaufighters but four aircraft developed un-
serviceabilities before take-off and the men were disappointed
at not achieving a century score for the month. However, the
Squadron claimed 33 barges destroyed and 51 damaged in
that period.
Significant results were expected from the mission involving
12 aircraft sent to the Wide Bay and Cape Orford areas on 1
September to hunt for 40 barges seen the previous evening by
a Catalina. They didn't find that number of enemy craft but
they did destroy or severely damage six in the Wide Bay area
that were not effectively camouflaged. During an attack on
Palmal Plantation, A19-111 (Keith Nicholson and Ken
Delbridge) was hit in the tailplane by medium ack-ack —
probably a Bofors. When the aircraft landed at Vivigani after
a flight of four hours 20 minutes, both crew members were
able to stand erect with their heads and shoulders through the
hole.
At the debriefing Keith Nicholson used the target map to
point out to the Intelligence Officer the position of the gun
that had caused the damage to his aircraft. Joe Newman
vowed that on his next operation he would blow that gun and
its crew to smithereens.
Joe Newman, Ron Binnie and Captain T.F. Gill, an Army
iaison Officer, were in A19-132 when they went on a
^
reconnaissance mission on 9 September. Their aircraft was hit
at Palmal by what Ken Delbridge believed was the very gun
that had put the shell through the tail of A19-111. Joe
Newman ditched at 06.55S 151.53E. Arthur Thompson and
Peter White (A19-133) saw the men in the water, apparently
139
uninjured. Towards dusk, Bill Boulton and Keith McCarthy
(A19-7) dropped a large dinghy which the men climbed into,
and circled the area until their fuel situation became critical.
Len Hastwell and Don Miller were sent off at 8.20pm to
cover the survivors and drop a dinghy if Bill Boulton had not
been successful. The improvised and untried method of launch-
ing the flares they were given didn't work — they simply
plummeted into the dark ocean. 'From the ditched aircraft's
last known position we did a parallel track search at about 50
feet, using our headlights,' Len said. 'That was entirely
fruitless. But we had to try. The poor fellows in the water
might have seen us but we had no real hope of seeing them.'
Eleven Beaufighter sorties were mounted on 10 September,
when supplies of food and other items were dropped to the
survivors. Although bad weather caused the abandonment of
Beaufighter searches the following day, a Seagull from No. 1
Rescue and Communication Flight went out to recover the
survivors. Ray Kelley, a Beaufighter navigator who normally
flew with Clarrie Glasscock, went in that amphibian. The
aircraft and crew simply disappeared. The three occupants of
the ditched Beaufighter also disappeared. Two empty dinghies
were seen near Cape Beechey and it is presumed that the three
officers perished at sea.
Another Beaufighter went into the sea off the southern
coast of New Britain just 10 days later. At 6.50am on
Sunday, 19 September, three crews took off from Vivigani:
• Clarrie Glasscock and John Cain (A19-133)
• Peter Fisher and Stan Lutwyche (A19-90)
• Harold Tapner and Bob Thomas (A19-54)
During the attack on stores and supplies near the Cape
Hoskins airfield, A19-133 was hit by ack-ack fire and retired
seawards, at which time Harold Tapner and his navigator saw
it crash into the sea. Back at Vivigani, Col Harvey was
listening to the radio and heard Clarrie call out on the
intercom, 'Come up front, laddie. I've been hit.' Col had
made about 40 trips in Wirraways with Clarrie when they
140
had been together in Darwin and because Clarrie's normal
navigator had just been lost in the Seagull which disappeared
during the search for Joe Newman, it had been Col's intention
to fly on the sortie to Cape Hoskins. But the previous evening
John Cain had asked to go — he was a spare navigator and
hadn't been on an operation for some time.
A request from an injured pilot for his navigator to come
forward and help when their aircraft was about to splash into
the sea would be disconcerting for people who normally flew
together. 'But,' said Col, 'for this young lad it must have been
an awful situation. Maybe he did get up front but found there
was nothing he could do for the pilot or the aircraft.'
Skinny dipping at the rock pool, Goodenougb, September 1943.

(Courtesy Reg Crowl)
For everybody in No. 30 Squadron, Goodenough's great

assets were the marvellous swimming holes close to the camp.
Fed by water that tumbled down a mountain stream and
cascaded over a waterfall, those pools were in constant
demand for laundering, abluting, swimming or just larking
about. After a dip the men luxuriated in the pool's environs,
stretching out on the huge, warm rocks and dozing in the sun.
Nobody bothered about a swimming costume.
A path from the villages higher up the mountain passed
along the eastern edge of the pools and this was in use
throughout the day by young, nubile native girls. It was some
141
time before the men discovered that there was no need for
them to dive into the pool for reasons of personal modesty,
because their bodies were not reacting in the way that virile
males normally reacted at the sight of semi-naked females.
Adjutant Wearne and caterer Bill Grogan had some difficulty
in convincing the men that the cooks were not lacing the tea
urns with bromide. T h a t was something of a perennial
popular rumour in all Services: the cooks were supposedly
under orders clandestinely to doctor the men's victuals in
order to lessen their libido, dampen their lust and render them
more docile and easier to control.
By now the cooks had learned to ignore the men's rude
remarks about their parentage, their personal habits and their
products at mealtimes, as the following illustrates:
I'm Johnno the cook, and I ain't going crook,

At the job that I've got with the Beaus.
But there's some things that I ought to say with a snort,
It's the curse of my life — so here goes.
They reckon my cookin' won't keep them good lookin'
Call me names that I cannot admire,
They fill up their mugs (the great hungry lugs)
And question the truth of my sire.
Well, I'm doin' me best to bring comfort and rest
To the stomachs of guys from the Strip,
But with Bull-em-a-cow and other tough chow
Me culinary art's on the slip.
I serve it up cold, make it up in a mould
And enhance it with onions and spice,
I bake it and boil it and even uncoil it
But, I know that it never tastes nice.
On one occasion everyone in the Squadron did go crook at the

cook but it may not have been the writer of the above piece of
doggerel. They were inflamed because of what a cook did to
142
some fresh eggs. Chas Harris and Don Miller had ferried a
Beaufighter up from Forest Hill, picked up 60 dozen fresh
eggs at Amberley and deposited them in the kitchen on arrival
at Goodenough. Every man in the unit was literally drooling
at the thought of sitting down to two lovely fried eggs for
breakfast instead of the unappetising scrambled egg slop made
from egg powder that they had been served for the last 12
months. When they lined up for breakfast they found that the
duty cook had done the unthinkable with the fresh eggs. He
had scrambled them!
John Johnston, a fitter DMT, was a great asset to the
Squadron for he could turn his hand to just about anything
and could fabricate useful pieces of equipment from bits of
scrap wood, wire and metal. John had a steam ticket and used
to work in the engineroom of the Taroona during its voyages
to and from Tasmania. When some of his fellow transport
drivers found a wrecked Japanese barge on the beach at
Goodenough he installed a Morris engine, bored a hole
through the barge's thick hull and fitted a steel driving shaft
to a damaged propellor he had picked up around the island.
During the journey from Brisbane to Townsville he had joined
with Ted Kachel, a one-time train driver, to give the Queens-
land Railway employees a spell from their duties for an hour
or two.
One of the major events in No. 30 Squadron's calendar of
activities was its participation in the attack on the enemy's
major stronghold at Rabaul on 12 October. So that they
could take their place in the allotted stream, Beauf ighters and
Bostons were ordered to fly out of Goodenough the previous
day. As Arthur Thompson positioned A19-157 for take-off
the nosewheel of a bombed-up Boston which was rolling
down the runway, collapsed. Laurrie Crouch was standing in
the Beaufighter's well, and his diary recorded the event: 'The
plane flipped over on its back. Two gunners got out but the
pilot was trapped. The plane caught fire and exploded in a
huge ball of fire. Not a good prelude to our take-off. We flew
over the smouldering funeral pyre.' Harry Tayler was standing
143
in the well of A19-139 and saw the crash over his pilot's
shoulder. 'I urged Cyril Cornish to get us off the ground as
quickly as possible,' he said. 'He managed to do just that but
I could see the strain he was under for the sweat just poured
out of him.'
At the time of that planned raid the Japanese had about
330 aircraft in New Britain and they had five good aerodromes
in the Rabaul area. Tobera, which was to be the Beaufighter's
target, had been completed barely two months before the raid
and had an 1100m concrete runway as well as revetments for
75 fighters.
Rabaul bristled with nearly 370 ack-ack guns.
An Allied force of 308 aircraft assembled at Dobodura.
Dust raised by Mitchells delayed the take-off of the 13
Beaufighters:
• Bill Boulton and Keith McCarthy (A19-54)
• Jim Emmerton and Alf Burgoyne (A19-147)
• John McRobbie and Clive Cooke (A19-103)
• Ken Barber and Bert Claire (A19-139)
• Fred Catt and Bill Davis (A19-107)
• Graeme Hunt and Arthur Hodges (A19-111)
• Cyril Cornish and Harry Braid (A19-138)
• Arthur Thompson and Peter White (A19-157)
• George Robertson and Rex Pitman (A19-120)
• Ted Marron and Vern Gollan (142)
• George Drury and Dave Beasley (A19-134)
• Dick Stone and Ted Morns-Hadwell (A19-97) [Reserve]
At about 10.45am, when the other 296 aircraft were
heading home, the 12 Beaufighters were approaching the
target area at sea level and met two squadrons of Mitchells
head-on. The Mitchell pilots thought the aircraft ahead were
Sallys and one of them fired a burst which passed between the
aircraft flown by Chas Harris and Fred Catt. Bill Boulton
made radio calls which prevented further firing.
The formation leader had his Beaufighters flying in echelon
144
to the left and increased his speed as he neared Tobera airfield.
But George Robertson's aircraft wasn't able to reach that
speed. He was number 11 in the formation so he and his
wingman (possibly Dick Stone) fell behind the others. Fred
Catt thought that the attack on Tobera wasn't as successful as
it might have been because the leader took the formation in at
low level all the way, and all the pilots could do was to press
the trigger and spray the general area as they hurtled over the
airfield. 'To make a proper attack,' he said, 'you've got to get
up as you near the target area, select a particular target and
then dive on it, holding your fire until you're really close.'
George Drury and Dave Beasley took off from Dobodura
with the formation but turned back when the pilot had to
shut down his port motor because of a serious oil leak. The
place of their disabled aircraft was taken by Dick Stone and
Ted Morris Hadwell in A19-97.
That crew was lost that day.
Hunting for barges continued during October. Ten Beau-
fighters went out on 2 October, another six on 4 October and
four more on 23 October. The Squadron mounted 67 anti-
barge sorties during that month, having swept areas near Cape
Cunningham, Cape Deschamps, Cape Archway, Cape Hoskins,
Cape Orford, Cape Koas, Lindenhaven, Rangombol, Decep-
tion Point and Ubili.
Part of the entry for 2 October in the diary kept by one of
the airmen in the Squadron reads: 'Great day for the Squadron.
Two of out kites were looking for barges when along came a
Betty bomber [which they fired on]. She just blew apart in the
air. First kite we have shot down in actual air combat.' He
was referring to the action near Cape Beechey involving
Arthur Thompson and Peter White in A19-137, with Ted
Marron and Vern Gollan in A19-142.
Snippets of other diary entries give some idea of what was
happening on the ground during October:
3rd: Night raid. Grandstand view of stick of bombs bursting

along strip. Holed an Anson.
145
7th: Started digging slit trench, but it's heartbreaking getting
through the hard ground and huge rocks.
8th: A couple of Japs dropped daisy cutters. We listened to the
radio messages between ground control and our fighters. Petrol
tanker blown up. 2 Beauforts damaged.
11th: A Boston crashed and burnt at take-off. Her bombs blew
up. Pilot killed. Navigator screaming inside.
14th: Best news that some of our technical men have got their
postings.
15th: An alert this morning.
16th: Raining like hell. Transport is a nightmare. Trucks slide all
the way down the hill. Almost impossible to get them up again.
Have to walk.
18th: Got Yankee issue of cigarettes, tobacco, soap, toothpaste,
etc. tonight.
21st: Terrific burst that old timers of 5MWS, 22 and 30 going
home by boat at end this month.
22nd: Clearing natives from our vicinity. Mysterious lights seen
from mountain. Japs suspected.
23rd: Dive bomber sneaked in about 6am dropped one bomb
near boat in harbour.
26th: Dawn alert. I don't like them. Why can't they come over
when the moon is bright?
27th: This place is getting me down. Why don't they send our
relief?
28th: Counted 68 Liberators going over towards Rabaul.
31st: Saw a good race between Beau and a Boston this evening.
Boston won by a short head. But they're going to run it over.
As the diarist noted, Goodenough had a number of air raid

alerts while N o . 30 Squadron was based there. Crews were
brought to standby status on 22 August because intelligence
suggested that the Japanese were about to launch an attack.
Then on 24 August all military personnel were ordered to
wear their steel helmets and to carry their gas masks as it was
thought that enemy planes would be attacking with chemical
bombs. On 22 September unit commanders were warned that
the Japanese might launch an assault by paratroopers. Red
146
Alerts were given on 27 September, 3, 5, 9 and 10 October.
All turned out to be false alarms but a few bombs were
dropped in a night-time raid on Vivigani Strip on 8 October
during which two Beauforts of No. 8 Squadron were damaged
and a petrol tanker was destroyed.
Two Beaufighters took off from Vivigani Strip on 11
October, the day before the big raid on Rabaul. Fred Catt and
Bill Davis, (A19-107), and Jim Emmerton and Alf Burgoyne
(A19-147) were detailed to attack Palmal Plantation. Because
they had to fly around a number of rainstorms on the
outward leg, they made landfall right over the target instead
of a few kilometres north. 'We had to fly straight over it at
500 feet,' Fred said. 'There was nothing else we could do —
and they were throwing everything up at us. I flew on, got up
to 5,000 feet, turned, dived and strafed them — going like
hell. I finished up almost flying down the barrel of one of the
guns that was blazing away at us. I pulled out at about
tree-top height so suddenly that both motors cut out. That
frightened hell out of me.'
The cannons in many of the Beaufighters had been fired so
often that wear and tear was beginning to show; Jack
Dunstan, Rus Foster and Russell Hall were among the
armourers who inserted 38mm spacing washers in the return
springs in order to increase the tension. Jack Rutherford had
been detailed to help in that, as well as in the task of repairing
a defective Plessey belting machine which had been in use
since January. Instead, he went around the unit getting his
clearances because he had been posted south on 18 October.
Others whose outwards postings were effective on that day
included George Anderson, Bob Burchall, Sid Edgar, Peter
Hansen, Jim Robinson and Jim Wilson.
During the preceding two weeks the strength of the transport
section had been reduced when 10 of its drivers had been
posted back to Australia: John Colohan, Roy Cordell, Mal-
colm Crowe, Alan Grant, Milton Hughes, Barrie Kitt, George
Maddelena, Bill Owens, Les Parker and George Williamson.
While the Squadron had been in the tropics it had had three
different Warrant Officer Engineers. Joe Newland had replaced
147
Dave Haddon when he left to fill a technical post at Air Force
Headquarters early in 1943 and in December Joe went to No.
10 Repair and Salvage Unit, being replaced by Fred Lynch
from that unit. As for the medical orderlies, a short time after
Harold Mayo arrived in on posting from No. 41 Operational
Base Unit, George Hamer received news of his outwards
posting. However, he was dismayed to discover that instead
of going to a home unit, he was going to Goodenough W / T
Station.
In what was to be the last-but-one mission from Vivigani,
the Commanding Officer led nine other Beaufighters against
targets at Palmal Plantation on 3 November. Bostons of No.
22 Squadron led by their Commanding Officer and Kitty-
hawks of No. 77 Squadron also took part. During the heavy
strafing and bombing of the target area, a Japanese 25mm
shell hit the leading Boston, exploded in the bomb bay and
the pilot had to land on a submerged coral reef about 60m off
shore. George Robertson, who was flying A19-120 in that
attack, recalled that Wing Commander Bill Townsend and
Flying Officer Dave McClymont were not injured, got ashore,
were befriended by natives, stayed in New Britain for some
three months and were picked up by an American submarine.
The following day Wing Commander Jim Emmerton was
posted from No. 30 Squadron to be temporary Commanding
Officer of No. 22 Squadron. Jim had been on the air staff of
No. 9 Operational Group, had been appointed to command
No. 30 Squadron on 7 October, had crewed up with Alf
Burgoyne and flown seven Beaufighter missions with him —
including the concerted Squadron effort against Tobera. He
lost his life soon after taking command of the Boston squadron
at Goodenough.
The Unit Diary notes that on 6 November the sea echelon
left Goodenough for Kiriwina, which was to be the Squadron's
new operational base. George Dusting's diary notes that:
'Nos. 6 and 100 Squadrons arrived [at Goodenough] this
afternoon and took over our dispersal area. The placed is
covered with bloody Beauforts now.'
148
CHAPTER TEN
Christmas at Kiriwina
M AJOR General Richard Sutherland, General MacArthur's

Chief of Staff, had suggested that an airfield be built
on Kiriwina in order to provide an advanced base for Allied
fighters to attack enemy installations and shipping in and
around New Britain and to provide a degree of support for
Admiral Halsey's operations in the Solomons.
Two destroyers of the United States Navy and a fleet of
landing ships put men of a Regimental Combat Team ashore
at dawn on 24 June and they were followed by men of the
158th Regiment. Two airfields were planned: one in the
centre of the island and to the west of Muiau Bay would be
known as South Drome and that at the northern tip of the
island would be known as the North Drome.
The slow arrival of the heavy airfield construction equip-
ment and the heavy rain which fell on Kiriwina in the weeks
after the American landing prevented completion of the
airfields by the planned date. However, the North Drome was
finished by 19 August so that No. 76 Squadron could begin
operations from its new base.
When the bulk of No. 30 Squadron's stores, supplies and
equipment had been loaded onto the SS Han Yang at
Goodenough, personnel were embarked in accordance with
lists prepared by Flying Officer Robinson, Pilot Officer
149
Grant, Warrant Officer Good and Flight Sergeant Annetts.
The ship, which was a decrepit cargo vessel and most unsuit-
able as a people-mover, pulled away from the island at
6.30am on Saturday, 6 November, and steamed off towards
the north.
Apart from the thumping of the ship's engine and the
various alarming squeaks and groans as her plates came under
tension, the short voyage passed without incident. Neither the
captain nor the crew appeared in any way concerned about the
possibility of Japanese aircraft or submarines launching an
attack on their unescorted vessel. However, some of the Air
Force personnel were rather apprehensive about that possibility
and they engaged in animated discussions about whether it
was better to stay below deck where they would be protected
against the bullets of a strafing aircraft or to stay above deck
where there were better prospects of survival if the hull were
to be holed by a torpedo.
In the event, most of them tried to get some rest after the
hard labour involved in preparing for their departure and they
made the best of a day in the sunshine and bracing sea air.
Gwynn Davies stretched out on the bonnet of a jeep on the
forward deck while Cliff Maxwell and other transport drivers
dozed off in the cabs of their vehicles. Eric Hughes found a bit
of shade on the deck and mused about the treatment he had
been given by a visiting dentist at Goodenough. It wasn't that
the dentist was rough in his manner — he just didn't have
adequate equipment. 'Every visit was a misery,' said Eric.
'Not only was he unable to give injections to ease the pain but
he used a drill operated by a foot pedal and the differing
speeds at which he pumped away with his foot brought
indescribable agony to the poor fellow sitting on an empty
packing case.'
Eric had shared a tent with Alan Laing who was also on
board the Han Yang. Alan was thankful that this was to be a
short journey and he would not have to suffer the same
miserable conditions he had experienced on the West Cactus
when she had taken the Squadron from Port Moresby to
Goodenough.
150
Plenty of cordial was available on the Han Yang and that
was drunk in preference to tea since the latter had a most
peculiar taste. The water used for the teamaking was drawn
from the ship's tanks and the men believed that these had not
been flushed for quite a long time. The messing staff provided
sandwiches made from bread baked the day before and with a
choice of three fillings — bully beef, beetroot or melon jam.
All hands had to help in getting the unit's stores and
supplies off the ship immediately she berthed, having taken
just on 10 hours for the voyage. Tenders took the men in
relays to the Transit Camp at No. 46 Operational Base Unit
where they were given a scratch meal and lists of working
parties were drawn up so that the vessel could be unloaded on
a shift basis. Although a considerable amount of heavy
equipment had to be unloaded, the parties were glad that
Beaufighters were not using bombs — they had seen the men
of No. 22 Squadron engaged in that back-breaking task in the
hot sun.
Pilot Officer Arthur Jordan had flown across from
Goodenough with an advance party of 16 other ranks and had
started on the layout of the new camp at the site nominated
by No. 73 Wing. As Adjutant, he was aware that unit morale
was at a low ebb, mainly because of long service in a tropical
theatre of war. He knew that as far back as August, some of
the men had made bets that the original members would start
going back to Australia on the 20th of that month — that
being the first anniversary of the Squadron assuming a 'war
footing' at Bohle River. When that didn't occur the men had
then set their sights on going home in time to have Christmas
with their families. However, those hopes were dashed when
Air Board decided that the tropical tour for airmen was to be
15 months. These badly typed verses were pinned next to Unit
Routine Orders on the newly erected noticeboard at Kiriwina:
A 12 month station, rumour said, Our hearts beat wild with

glee,
Till Daily Routine Orders showed, Air Board had bunged on
three.
151
Fifteen months, devoid of leave, from Garbutt to Papua,
The order came from Shiny Bums, filled with bull manure.
Safe in far off Melbourne, in a little world, so small,
Where such a thing as rec leave, doesn't worry them at all.
Where the war is fought from eight till four, and red tape flies
about,
They warm the seats of swivel chairs, and work our welfare out.
Come up here and join us, when the moon is full and bright,
And the Japs are up above you, several times each bloody
night.
And when the morning's dawning, when you're tired, grimy, and
done
And you find there's still no posting. Don't think it's bloody
fun.
The Adjutant prepared for the arrival of 10 Beaufighters

coming from Goodenough on 12 November bringing the
Medical Officer, an Intelligence Officer, an Operations Officer
and 21 groundstaff. One of the airmen w h o travelled to the
new base in A19-34 reported that the pilot of his aircraft had
to circle nearby Kaileuna Island until a rainstorm moved
away from Kiriwina and he was able to land there. Shortly
after lunch Warrant Officer Newland, LAC Don Angus and
another 42 airmen disembarked from Dakota A65-17 (flown
by Flight Lieutenant Beasdon), which had brought them up
from Goodenough. The following day two more Beaufighters
arrived and another Douglas transport landed with two
photographers and their demountable Photographic Section.
N o . 30 Squadron was now under the command of N o . 73
Wing which had been formed at Port Moresby the previous
February. At Goodenough the Wing had been commanded by
Group Captain Dougald McLachlan; at Kiriwina it was
commanded by Group Captain Gordon Steege.
After the destruction of the Bismark Sea convoy in which
N o . 30 Squadron had played such an important part, the
Japanese had increased their use of barges to move reinforce-
152
ments and supplies. But these became special targets of the
Beauf ighters whose crews became adept at spotting the camou-
flaged craft hidden under the trees along the shores of New
Guinea and New Britain, and whose devastating fire could
render them unseaworthy. Because there were seldom any
workshop facilities at their favourite hiding places, the barges
which were damaged could rarely be repaired and were
usually abandoned. The loss of so many barges had quite a
serious effect on the enemy's ability to keep his forces at
proper strengths and to provide them with an adequate supply
of ammunition, petrol, food and other necessities. Moreover,
in the belief that the Allies intended to capture Rabaul, the
Japanese retained men there who might otherwise have been
sent to other locations.
The reduced number of barges despatched from Rabaul
during the latter weeks of 1943 normally contained only
freight and the crews took great pains to hide their craft to
make them difficult to detect from the air.
No. 30 Squadron began its operational activities from its
new base at Kiriwina on 14 November when Chas Harris and
Don Miller (in A19-90) and Dick Destree and Ed Mann (in
A19-33) carried out a reconnaissance of Montague Harbour.
General MacArthur had planned for his forces to capture
Arawe the following day as that would provide General
Kenney with an airfield on the south coast of New Britain. It
would also provide the United States Navy with an excellent
harbour from which its PT boats could operate in the Vitiaz
Strait.
Beaufighter crews operating from Kiriwina were dis-
appointed with the low tally of enemy barges that they
destroyed or damaged. But their many sorties along the
coastal areas of Japanese held territory had the effect of
interfering with barge movements, thereby weakening the
offensive capability of the enemy forces in New Britain as
well as lessening their defensive capability. Those factors
contributed to the success of the American Marines in taking
Cape Gloucester — once a very important airfield in the
Japanese scheme of things.
153
The decreased need for Beaufighter activity in the New
Britain area, and what was seen by staff officers at Air Force
Headquarters as a diminishing risk to aircrew, led to a change
in the length of operational tours in the tropics. Aircrew tours
were increased by 50% and became nine months in November
1943. At the same time, the authorities made it possible for
aircrew to take mid-tour operational leave (with pay). Fred
Catt, Bill Davis, Peter Fisher, Stan Lutwyche, Bob Maguire
and Les Turnbull were the first members to take advantage of
that opportunity and left Kiriwina on 17 November for an
absence of at least 17 days (including appropriate travelling
time). The Commanding Officer, Bill Boulton, went on
'Short Operational Leave' from Kiriwina and Bob Maguire
was appointed to the temporary command of the Squadron.
Ken Barber left Kiriwina the day after Bill Boulton's departure
and married Marion McDonald at Scots Church, Melbourne
during his short absence from the tropics.
During the remainder of November the aircraft made only
17 operational sorties and these were the usual barge sweeps
along the coasts of New Britain:
• 15th — Cape Archway area: A19-120 — George Robertson

and Rex Pitman; A19-154 — Ken Barber and Dick Walton.
• 15th — Langunen Point area: A19-7 — Theo Boehm and
Bill Masterson; A19-141—Rod Albrecht and John Carroll.
• 15th — Cape Hoskins area: A19-157 — Arthur Thompson
and Peter White; A19-154 — Ted Marron and Vern Gollan.
• 17th — Wide Bay area: A19-147 — Bob Maguire and Les
Turnbull; A19-130 — Cyril Cornish and Harry Braid; A19-
7 — Colin Wein and Don Kirkwood.
• 17th — Cape Hoskins area: A19-90 — Chas Harris and
Don Miller; A19-103 — Murray Towill and Pat Sweeney;
• 25th — Cape Hoskins area: A19-54 — Bob Walker and Jim
Howell; A19-139 — Percy Coates and Charles Chappie.
• 26th — Rangombol Point area: A19-134—John McRobbie
and Arthur Hodges; A19-154 — Gordon Lucas and Bill
Yates.
154
• 27th — Arawe area: A19-3 — Bill Boulton and Keith
McCarthy; A19-147 — Bob Walker and Jim Howell.
• 29th — Cape Hoskins Area: A19-154 — Ted Marron and
Vern Gollan; A19-Dick Destree and Bill Mann.
At 8.40am when the two Beaufighters conducting the barge
sweep along the coast near Cape Hoskins on 25 November
were near Bangula Bay, Bob Walker and Jim Howell saw that
the port engine of A19-139 was smoking. The aircraft, then
at about 1968 feet, went into a roll, turned over on its back,
crashed into some tall trees and exploded on impact. The
pilot of the accompanying aircraft circled the burning Beau-
fighter for about 10 minutes but saw no signs of Percy Coates
or Charles Chappie. They were both listed as Missing on
Operations against the Enemy, in Squadron Personnel Occur-
rence Report No. 2 1 / 4 3 .
As a general rule each pilot had his own aircraft and
groundcrew and many of the aircrew spent some time helping
the fitters in their maintenance tasks. This enabled the pilots
and navigators to learn more about their Beaufighters and
promoted a degree of camaraderie between the aviators and
their crews. When Norm Fraser went south on 25 November
his place was taken by Ray Wheatley who introduced the
garage system of aircraft maintenance, which was most unpopu-
lar. 'He had one group doing 40-hourly inspections and
another doing 80-hourlies,' said Len Hastwell. 'But for five
consecutive operational sorties there wasn't an airmen in sight
when we got down to the strip and we had to prepare the
aircraft ourselves.' In consequence of the many complaints
from his fitters and from the aircrew, Ray ordered the
reintroduction of the previous system.
During the barge sweep in the Arawe area on 27 November,
Bill Boulton sank an empty lifeboat tied to the jetty at Cape
Merkins. Further round the coast he saw a single fully
equipped Japanese soldier walking along the beach and he
blazed at him with cannons and machineguns.
All available Bostons and Beaufighters were ordered to
make a first light take-off on 30 November and attack enemy
155
installations on Garove Island — one of the Vitu group located
about 150km north-east of Cape Gloucester. Eight Beau-
fighters left Kiriwina but they ran into very bad weather
before they reached New Britain and had to turn back. A19-
53 was last seen just as the Beaufighters encountered a severe
rainstorm when they were about 65km south-west of Gasmata
and heading for their home base. That afternoon four Beau-
fighters went out looking for the missing aircraft. They
conducted a parallel track search, 3km apart, on a course of
320 degrees True, to a depth of 65km, after which they turned
round and flew a reciprocal course. The only sighting was
made by George Walker in A19-20. He saw a small yellow
object in the water which could have been a half submerged
dinghy. Eight aircraft went out the following morning but
saw nothing of the missing aircraft or its crew. Gordon Lucas
and Bill Yates were subsequently deleted from the Squadron's
list of effective aircrew.
As a result of a letter from the Chief of the Air Staff, the
Minister for Air informed Prime Minister Curtin that Air
Vice-Marshal Jones had found much dissatisfaction about
matters within No. 9 Operational Group during his recent
tour of New Guinea units. He believed that morale and
discipline were suffering as a result of Air Commodore
Hewitt's style of administration. The Prime Minister agreed
that Air Commodore Lukis should replace Air Commodore
Hewitt as Air Officer Commanding. George Robertson and
Rex Pitman were given the task of flying the incoming and
outgoing Air Officers on visits to RAAF units at their forward
bases in the South West Pacific Area. The pilot took engine
fitter John Rawlinson in the aircraft and flew the party to
Goodenough, Nadzab, Gusap, Dumpu, Lae, Finschaven,
Dobodura, Milne Bay and Port Moresby. George remembers
the occasion for four events:
• Seeing five or six waterspouts simultaneously while flying

over the ocean to the south-east of Cape Gloucester.
• Listening to stories at Dumpu and Gusap about Japanese
156
pilots firing at a Spitfire pilot while he was hanging in his
parachute after bailing out.
• Overhearing a discussion between a pair of American
fighter pilots about whether his Beaufighter was a friendly
or a hostile.
• Beating up the strip at Dobodura — with two very senior
RAAF officers standing immediately behind his shoulder:
I completely forgot that there were two air commodores standing
in the well behind me as I sent my aircraft screaming down the
USAAF strip at Dobodura — with nothing on the clock but the
maker's name — then pulling back on the stick and zooming up
to about 1,000 feet in a steep left hand climbing turn, at which
time I glanced over my shoulder and, horror of horrors, glimpsed
a tangled mass of arms, legs and air commodore's braid in the
well behind me.
As might be expected, that young pilot got a dressing down
but no disciplinary action was taken — perhaps Air Com-
modore Hewitt had remembered times when he had performed
similar manoeuvres (but at much more modest speeds) when
he was in the Fleet Air Arm.
To make the Beaufighters more versatile the Air Force
authorities decided to give them a bombing capability so a
rack which could accommodate either a 113kg bomb, or a
cluster of smaller bombs, was fitted under each wing. The
weapons on each rack were released simultaneously to prevent
drag occurring on one side of the aircraft. Ron Downing and
Bruce Tiller became quite worried when only one of the
bombs carried by their aircraft dropped away when the pilot
fired the release button. Although he tried a number of in-
flight manoeuvres, he wasn't able to dislodge the remaining
weapon. To make matters worse, the tail section of the bomb
blew off and the crew thought that the weapon might be
armed and would explode if the bomb came unhooked during
the landing.
Ron set that Beaufighter down on the runway very, very
gently.
157
Joe Arthur was the armourer for that aircraft and he was
responsible for attending to the weapons hang-up. Although
the aircrew and groundstaff rapidly vacated the area around
the dispersal bay, Joe found that there was no need for them
to be concerned as the weapon wasn't dangerous. All he had
to do was unscrew the piston and withdraw the fuse. Those
bombs used vanes as their arming device, were tail-fused and
fitted with an impact fuse so that they exploded only when
they hit an object solid enough to impel the striker forward.
They were thus prevented from exploding when they came
into brief contact with something soft — such as tree foliage.
Each of the Beaufighter's racks could be fitted with a
cluster of six 9kg bombs, each cluster being encircled by a
metal band which was discarded when the cluster was released.
These were anti-personnel bombs, more generally known as
daisy-cutters since on impact they spread a great deal of
shrapnel at ground level. They were quite simple weapons and
fitted with very sensitive detonators so that they would
explode when they hit something substantial. They would not
do much damage if they penetrated the ground and then
exploded.
Fred Catt had an experience similar to that of Ron Downing.
When he and Bill Davis carried out a practice bombing attack
on a wreck, the navigator thought he had seen both bombs
explode in the water. Fred did a 'shoot-up' of the camp before
landing and wondered why everybody was running away as he
taxied down the strip. When he got out of his aircraft he saw
that one of the bombs was hanging from the underside of his
starboard wing. The pilot and the navigator disappeared from
the scene pretty smartly.
Practically every tent had an apparatus outside which
enabled the occupants to boil up their clothes in a kerosine tin
or boil up water for a brew of tea, although by then coffee
was becoming rather popular. This device was known as a
'choofer'. It consisted of a container to hold the petrol and to
which a small diameter brass tube — retrieved from a crashed
aeroplane — was fitted. The tube was formed into a coil, its
158
end was pinched together to form a seal and it was then
punctured with fine holes a few centimetres apart — like an
old gas ring. To get the thing going, petrol was allowed to
flow down the tube and then a match was tossed towards the
centre of the coil. This lit the raw fuel flowing out through
the holes, until the flames heated the coil to a degree at which
the fuel in it was vapourised. From then, pressure built up in
the tube and the gas escaped at increased force — as it does in
a primus. The initial yellow flame gave way to bursts of blue
flame, much hotter, and the device began 'choofing' as the
pressure built up and then eased off.
It seemed that every American unit had its own open air
cinema, its own 16mm projector and a regular supply of
relatively recent Hollywood productions. The entertainment
they provided during November and December included: Star
Spangled Rhythm at the Star and Garter, Reveille with
Beverley at the Hubba Hubba, Reap the Wild Wind at the
Grass Skirt, Lucky Partners at the Coconut Grove, One Way
Ticket at the Samboogie, Son of Fury at the North Shore,
Eagle Squadron at the Mosquito, Holiday Inn at the Shangri
La, Ship Ahoy! at the Scorpion and Random Harvest at the
Rex.
Because Kiriwina was so flat the aerial of the radar unit
could not be positioned at any great height. Even so, the
controllers at No. 114 Fighter Sector were confident of their
ability to detect all incoming raiders, irrespective of their
height. In order to test that claim, Group Captain Steege
briefed two crews, Len Hastwell and Doug Miller, and Cyril
Cornish and Harry Braid, to return from a particular barge
sweep at very, very, low level. The Squadron pilots gathered
around the plot board in the Operations Room and the
navigators dispersed themselves along the strip to watch the
reaction of the ack-ack gunners.
The pilots' approach to their home base was in accordance
with their briefing and as Len Hastwell began to taxi towards
his dispersal bay after an uneventful landing he saw the ack-
ack gunners streaking towards their gunpits. A few seconds
159
earlier the duty controller had told the visitors in his Oper-
ations Room that he would be getting a plot on the returning
Beaufighters at any moment. He was more than a little put
out when Arthur Thompson told him that he had just heard
both of the aircraft landing.
Everybody in the Squadron agreed that the camp at
Goodenough had been much better than the one they now
occupied at Kiriwina. At Goodenough all the tents were on
the side of a hill, were exposed to cooling sea breezes and had
a fantastic view out over the ocean. 'To sit outside the Mess
or your tent and see the moon come up over the water on a
still, tropical night was sheer magic,' according to Ron
Morrison. Kiriwina, being a flat coral island, could not offer
such an entrancing prospect from any of the RAAF camps.
These were all located amid coconut palm trees and scrubby
jungle undergrowth and were spread out along the road that
ran from the strip to the interior of the island. Frank Simpson
thought that Kiriwina was the worst place he had ever served
in. He had flown up there from Goodenough in the Beau-
fighter crewed by Ted Marron and Vern Gollan and he had a
particular aversion to the glare of the coral down at the strip
and the aircraft dispersal areas.
No. 30 Squadron's camp was situated about 4km along the
main road and lay between two native villages. Mobile Works
Squadron personnel had erected substantial tropical style
buildings for the messes and other principal buildings but
personnel were accommodated in tents. Most of the tents
were the usual Australian style with a horizontal ridge pole
and covered with an extra fly. However, some were American
style bell tents with dark, heavy canvas and a central upright
pole. These were heartily disliked because the interiors became
stifling hot. Normally, four airmen were billeted in an
Australian style tent, whilst six airmen occupied each bell
tent. The tents stood under the coconut trees and were
dispersed around the campsite. Some were lit by the unit's
generating plant but most were lit by Coleman pressure
lamps. Teddy See was responsible for bringing a number of
160
Coleman lamps to the two-up game that was held near the
Sergeants' Mess. Ted Bicknell and Les Tye had a personal
electric light installation in their tent, made from a generator
they had salvaged from a crashed Liberator and a 12 volt
battery they had secured from an American ack-ack unit.
The showers were positioned beside the road that ran
through the camp so that the tanker could easily replenish the
water storage tanks. Ross Squire often complained about the
hardness of the water and the difficulty of raising a lather
with ordinary soap. Native girls often gathered under the
palm trees oppsite the showers and giggled at the sight of
naked white men drenching themselves with water. Steve
Lambert was acutely embarrassed by their presence.
Arthur Stone, who was regarded by Don Angus as the
mainstay of the Squadron's cricket team, was the local SP
bookmaker and ran his shop under the trees just behind the
Sergeants' Mess every Saturday afternoon. A small group of
hopeful punters joined him there to listen to the race broad-
casts on a facility provided by Warrant Officer Chris Wilson
and others in the Wireless Section. Arthur shared a tent with
Albert Parker who had joined the Squadron at Kiriwina on
posting from No. 5 Aircraft Depot, Forest Hill.
Unlike No. 5AD, the Beaufighter squadron did not have a
Spud Murphy on its strength but it did have its own collection
of nicknames: Ack-Ack Kenny, Baldy Balderston, Blackjack
Walker, Boong Williams, Brenda McVernon, Bulldozer Drury,
Bunny Albrecht, Caesar O'Connor, Cassanova James, Cotter-
pin Jordan, Dinger Bell, Dit-Dah-Dit Edwards, Doovah Marsh,
Fantasia Bourne, Gentleman John Mason, Gunner Carroll,
Happy Rhodes, Jeep Wilson, Lola Lane, Mastermind Edwards,
Narc Hocking, Pappy Allum, Pop Loane, Professor Proctor,
Shagger Bain, Scotty Wallace, Snowy Hewitt, Splitpin Wearne,
Tiny Boehm, Titter Simon, Torchy Uren, Traveltalk Lovett
and Two-Eggs Hunter.
Athol (Snowy) Hewitt wholeheartedly agreed that the
tropical storms at Kiriwina were frighteningly violent. The
wind screamed through the tops of the palm trees, the rain
161
pelted down and drummed on the tent canvas, the sky lit up
with vivid flashes of lightning and the ears were assailed by
tremendously loud crashes of thunder. Ron Morrison saw a
tall coconut tree uprooted and tossed around like a matchstick
just outside his tent. Lightning struck the metal ring fixed to
the canvas hole at the top of a bell tent and the entire
structure was dashed to the ground — causing great panic and
alarm among the occupants. However, none of them were
injured.
The occasional enemy aeroplane put in an appearance over
the island during the latter part of November. The Japanese
staged a minor raid the night that Fred Catt and Bill Davis
arrived from Goodenough in their Beaufighter. As there
weren't any slit trenches at that time, Fred felt a little safer
when he put an enamel plate over his head. Trenches hadn't
been dug because the coral was so very hard and, in any case,
the daily downpour would soon fill up any hole in the
ground. The general hands who had to dig the latrine pits
testified to the difficulty of using pick and shovel in order to
excavate a hole in the coral.
Jim Blair, an instrument maker who had joined the Squadron
a few days after it had moved up from Goodenough, was very
keen on hiking and at every opportunity he took his knapsack
and went for long walks to visit the native villages. He liked
to talk to the natives and was keen to learn something about
their customs and culture. He handed out tins of bully beef to
those who were prepared to discuss such matters with him.
'Kiriwina was a beautiful place,' he said, 'and I was thrilled
to be there.' Many others heartily agreed with him, especially
those who spent their off-duty time lolling about on the
sandy beach near the strip or swimming in the refreshing
water which was sheltered by an offshore coral reef. One of
the flight riggers (thought to be Keith Carmichael) was the
envy of other swimmers because he had acquired a pair of the
fashionable boxer style moygashel swimmers from a recently
arrived American soldier serving with an ack-ack unit.
The island was infested with rats. They would, and did, eat
162
anything. Nothing in the tent was safe from them — clothes,
boots, belts, papers, books. They had a special liking for fur
felt hats. Hugh McDowell got fed up with the number of rats
that ran around his tent at night so he spent some time in his
armament workshop fabricating a rat-trap. This was simply a
tin with a wide mouth funnel so fixed that once the rat went
down the funnel into the tin, it couldn't get out again. Hugh
and his tent-mate, John Laverty, baited the trap with pieces of
dog biscuit and cheese. Their maximum catch during any one
night was 21 rats.
Bob Butler spent many hours tramping around the island
collecting some of its large butterflies — taking care to avoid
the large spiders which spun their sizeable webs across tracks
and pathways.
Everyone had to take care that mould did not accumulate
on their personal possessions. Chas Harris controlled mildew
growth on his boots and other leather items by applying
copper sulphate which he had brought up from the mainland.
By the beginning of December American forces had captured
Gasmata, Arawe and Cape Gloucester where the enemy had
nearly 6,000 men. The sizeable Japanese stronghold at Rabaul
was not then in Allied hands but its importance had been
greatly diminished by heavy air attacks by Liberators, Fortress,
Mitchells and RAAF Beauforts and Catalinas. Although the
barge traffic around the coast of New Britain seemed to have
ceased, the staff planners at Operational Group wanted to
ensure that not a single craft could reinforce or re-supply any
of the enemy pockets. Hence, Beaufighters were ordered to
carry on with their barge sweeps, as shown below:
5th — 2 aircraft: Alder Bay to Lindenhaven

10th — 2 aircraft: Rangombol Point to Cape Hoskins
10th — 2 aircraft: Langunen Point to Cape Borgen
11th — 2 aircraft: Lindenhaven to Cape Borgen
13th — 2 aircraft: Cape Hoskins to Rangombol Point
15th — 3 aircraft: Arawe to Lindenhaven
163
17th — 4 aircraft: Wanamula Point to Cape Hoskins
19th — 3 aircraft: Pulie River to Lindenhaven
19th — 3 aircraft: Cape Archway to Lindenhaven
20th — 3 aircraft: Pulie River to Lindenhaven
20th — 3 aircraft: Cape Borgen to Lindenhaven
21st- — 3 aircraft: Cape Borgen to Lindenhaven
21st- — 3 aircraft: Roebuck Point to Cape Borgen
22nd — 3 aircraft: Rangombol Point to Cape Hoskins
22nd — 3 aircraft: Cape Borgen to Lindenhaven
22nd — 3 aircraft: Cape Borgen to Lindenhaven
24th — 3 aircraft: Ramgombol Point to Cape Hoskins
25 th — 3 aircraft: Cape Borgen to Lindenhaven
27th- — 3 aircraft: Rangombol Point to Cape Hoskins
27th- — 3 aircraft: Cape Borgen to Cape Hoskins
31st- — 3 aircraft: Cape Borgen to Gasmata
The operations summaries for every one of those 86 sorties

contain three significant words — 'Nil barge sightings.' How-
ever, those reports show a sudden increase in the number of
aircraft that didn't get off the ground or turned back soon
after take-off because of engine or radio problems. The entry
for 6 December shows that A19-153 and A19-3 were the first
aircraft to return to base that month because of equipment
malfunctions; a further nine aircraft aborted their sorties
during the next few weeks. It is possible that the replacement
groundstaff who had begun to arrive during November had
not yet become as familiar with the Beaufighter and its
equipment as the men who had been looking after the aircraft
for the previous 15 months.
164
During the barge sweep between Wanamula Point and
Cape Hoskins on 17 December, Don Eisenhauer and Bruce
Tiller (in A19-54) saw Colin Wein and Don Kirkwood (in
A19-141) investigate a burnt out hulk near Cape Koas and
then make a run over it. At the time, Don had dived down to
give close examination to a nearby stretch of the coastline and
when he recovered and looked around he could see no sign of
A19-141. He searched that area thoroughly and then searched
the coast as far as Patanga, but neither he nor his navigator
saw any sign of A19-141 or its crew. Ray Wheatley, the
Engineer Officer, and Bill Boulton, the Commanding Officer,
suspected that Col Wein might have been fatally injured
through the malfunctining of the weapons system. They
recalled that some days previously a pilot had sustained an
injury to his foot during a cannon attack. It had been assumed
that the injury had been caused by small arms fire from the
ground. The Engineer Officer arranged for the armament
section to carry out some test firings and it was found that
every now and then a 20mm shell would explode just beyond
the cannon port and in line with the pilot's position. Further
examination showed that some of the ball ammunition did
not have the correct size of charge and thus travelled down the
gun barrel at a slower than normal speed. It was then hit by
the immediately following round and exploded.
No further problems arose after the Squadron stopped
using American made 20mm ammunition.
Towards the end of December Padre Ivor Church distributed
parcels provided by the Red Cross and the Australian Comforts
Fund. They had been packed some three months earlier and
had spent a week or so in the hot hold of a cargo ship engaged
in conveying supplies to Australian military units in the
Pacific. Albert Parker put his parcel aside with the intention
of having the pleasure of opening it on Christmas morning.
He was extremely disappointed to find that the cake in his
parcel had gone mouldy and was quite inedible. He sat
opposite Don Angus for the Christmas dinner, which was
served in the Airmens' Mess by the officers and senior non-
165
Christmas dinner in the Airmen's Mess, Kiriwina, December 1943.
(Courtesy Cress Clarke)
commissioned officers. The cooks had made a special effort

for that meal, which consisted of onion soup, roast turkey,
seasoning, baked potatoes, baked swedes, beans and carrots.
That was followed by plum pudding and custard, fresh fruit,
chocolates and candy. Jugs of fruit cordial were on every
table, and the men could quench their thirsts with the liquid
from a large canvas water bottle containing more fruit
cordial — to which Bill Marsh and his medical staff had
added a quantity of pure alcohol.
The long awaited postings had begun to come through and
the exodus of the original members began, continuing until
February as suitable replacements became available. Those
posted south at that time included:
• To No. 1 Embarkation Depot: Wally Ampt, Bill Bartlett,
Don Flemming, Russ Hall, Athol Hewitt, Charlie Metters,
John Pickering and Harry Tayler.
• To No. 2 Embarkation Depot: Norman Carroll, Jim
Dunn, Roy Eakins, Joe Erskine, Eric Forrester, Alwyn
Green, Jeff Heath, Wally Navin, Lou Nott, Jack O'Donnell,
Frank Simpson and Jim Wilson.
166
• To N o . 3 Embarkation Depot: Lionel Gutteridge, Peter
Hansen, Harry Whitton and Jim Chirgwin.
Earlier, a popular magazine had featured a story about one
of the unit's clerks, and this was the accompanying text:
Sergeant Jim Chirgwin was in New Guinea for 15 months. He

watched his RAAF squadron deliver blow after blow against the
Japs. He followed the mounting toll of smashed enemy aircraft:
He saw courageous young airmen leave the base never to return.
He sweated in steamy tropical jungles. He heard bombs shatter
the night silence and listened to the staccato cacophony of our
ack-ack. War was the background for his thoughts and hopes —
thoughts of his wife, Muriel, whom he had married two days
before being posted to the famous Beaufighter Squadron.
Then came the good news. He was granted 21 day's leave. His
first action was to send Muriel a telegram and his next was to
check over the unit's flying times with Flying Officer Bill
Holmes in their field office before catching a transport plane
south — still hardly believing his luck.
There was good news for other airmen too: Some of them
found that their paybooks had been adjusted to reflect their
entitlements for two shillings a day Crew Pay for the occasions
on which they had gone as part of the Beaufighter detachments
to Milne Bay in June and to Dobodura in October. T h e pay
clerk also spent some time with the pay records of officers,
who were now entitled to three shillings a day as a Field
Allowance.
The news for others serving at RAAF units on the mainland
was not at all cheerful for they were informed that they had
to forgo Christmas with their families and report to the
Beaufighter squadron at Kiriwina on Christmas Eve. Those
unhappy men included Tom Bastin, Ken Cole, Alf Cox, Allan
Goodridge, Sydney H o l l a n d , Charles Honeysett, R o l a n d
Hughes, Jim Masters, Les Monley and Ed Rooney.
In his account of the airmen w h o gave such sterling service
167
and the flying personnel who flew their superb weapon of war
against the enemy, War Correspondent George Johnston wrote
this in the Sydney Morning Herald:
Designed originally as nightfighters for the defence of London,

these 10 gun 'planes, with their high speed and silent approach,
have proved perfect for ground strafing raids on enemy positions,
grounded aircraft and coastal shipping. Since their arrival the
Beaufighters have made hundreds of sorties and I don't think
that at any time they have attacked from a higher level than a
couple of hundred feet.
I know exactly what the Japanese must feel like, because
whenever the Beaufighters take-off or come in, they zip over the
top of our camps, clearing the tentpoles by just a few feet. And
you can't hear them coming until they're right on top of you.
This method of attack calls for plenty of courage and plenty
of cool flying skill, because when an outfit like this proves itself
at this type of air warfare it gets a lot of sticky jobs such as
drawing the fire of ack-ack guns away from the attacking
bombers, sneaking across enemy airfields to shoot up grounded
aircraft (a job that can be done very efficiently with the
enormous hitting power of six machine guns and four cannon)
and strafing Japanese troops from the tree tops, when even a
fluke shot from an ordinary rifle might spell disaster for pilot,
observer and 'plane.
168
NOMINAL ROLL
Agnew, K.E. Beasley, D.I. Bunn, L.W.

Albrecht, R.D. Beck, K.S. Burchall, R.
Allen, R.F. Begby, Chaplain. Burgoyne, A.G
Allen, W.T. Bell, J.P. Burleigh, D.J.K.
Allott, R.M. Bell, W.D, MID. Burrows, M.J.
Allum, G.R. Bennett, R.G. Burton, F.R.
Ampt, W.T. Berg, H.L. Butler, J.G.
Anderson, F.B. Beynon, R.W. Butterfield, T.I.
Anderson, G.R. Bicknell, E.E. Byles, W.J.
Angus, D.D. Binnie, W.G.R. Cain, J.J.
Annetts, M.T. Blackmn, E.T. Cairn, J.J.
Archer, ? Blohm, B.E. Cameron, J.
Armstrong, D.J. Bockman, R.J. Cameron, S.F.
Arthur, J.C. Bond, C.L. Cameron, W.B.
Ashard, E.M. Boulton, W.T.M. Campbell, C.A.
Atkinson, A.G. Bourne, R.H. Cane; G.H.
Badman, A.W. Box, D.K. Carman, A.H.
Baich, L. Boyd, M.L. Carmichael, K.J.
Bain, D.E. Braid, H.V. Carnegie, G.C.
Baird, W.C. Branthwaite, W. Carroll, N.
Balderston, W.L.A. Braund, L.L. Cassidy, EG.
Ball, E.M. Brazenor, R.J. Cather, J.C.
Bamford, C.S. Breen, K.J. Chappie, G.H.
Barber, K.H. Brennan, F.H. Chirgwin, H.B.
Bartlett, W.H. Britton, N.S. Clarke, A.
Bastin, T.W. Bromilow, L.J. Clarke, J.C.
Bayes, R.H. Brookes, J.L. Clarke, W.G.
169
Clifford, W.H. Edwards, G.P. Hammond, J.
Clohesy, C.J. Edwards, H.B. Hanks, L.J.
Coates, J.H. Edwards, W.H. Hansen, P.J.
Coates, P.J. Eisenhauer, D.W. Harding, W.T.R.
Cole, K. Ellis, H.J. Hardman, C.G.
Coleman, W.S. Emmerton, J.G. Hardy, T.H.
Colethorpe, W.E.T. Erskine, D.O. Harman, W.S.
Collins, V.J. Evans, J. Harris, C D .
Cook, L.A. Farquhar, J. Harvey, C.G.
Cooke, J. Farren, T. Hasenohr, R.
Cornish, C.H. Fenwick, O. Hattrick, D.
Cosgrove, W.N. Ferrier, L.A. Haupt, W.R.
Cotterill, C. Fienberg, A. Hayle, M.J.
Cotton, H.J. Fisher, P.N. Heath, J.
Cowen, A.N. Fisken, P.N. Heffernan, P.G.
Cowley, C. Flemming, D.R. Herron, A.C.
Cox, A.M. Forde, D.F. Hewitt, A.J.
Cross, S.R. Foster, G.R. Hewitt, J.E.
Crouch, L.A. Fraser, N.E. Higgerson, W.F.
Crowl, R.W. Fraser, W.L. Hindmarsh, G.G.
Cummins, R.N. Gallary, W.E. Hine, E.
Davies, C.G. Garing, W.H. Hinks, F.C.
Davis, L.A. Gazzard, F.I. Hodges, A.G.
Davis, W.R. Gemmell, K.R. Holland, S.J.
Dawson, A.T. Gibson, G.W. Holmes, C.W.
Deacon, H.B. Gibson, W.R. Honeysett, C.J.
Delbridge, K.G. Glasscock, C.P. Horler, J.R.
Destree, L.A.H. Gollan, V.C. Horne, A.C.
Devlin, C. Golledge, K.R. Horne, E.E.
Dick, G.T. Good, E.P. Howell, J.H.
Dorman, R.C. Goodridge, A.P. Hughes, E.G.
Dorrington, W.C. Goodsir, R.A. Hughes, E.R.
Downing, G.R. Graham, G.B. Hughes, R.J.
Drummond, J.A. Grant, K.J. Hullin, J.H.
Drury, E.G. Greasley, N.E. Hunt, G.
Dunn, J.E. Green, A.C. Hunter, H.W.
Dunstan, J. Greenhill, A.L. Hunter, R.
Dusting, L.G. Grogan, W.J. Hurst, FA.
Eakins, R.O. Gunton, H.G. Hurst, A.J.
Eckhold, F.E. Gutteridge, L. Hutchinson, S.R.
Eddison, E.K. Haddon, D.W. Innes, D.
Edgar, R.A. Hall, R.H. Jaggs, A.E.
Edgar, S.W. Hamer, G.O. James, R.A.
Edmonds, L.F.J. Hamilton, G.R. Jeffries, S.E.
170
Jenkins, A.L. Maddox, R.E Navin, W.
Johnston, J.A. Maguire, ER. Nelson, R.T.
Johnston, R.H. Maguire, J.P. Newham, H . C
Jones, E.A. Mairet, A.S. Newland, J.G.
Jones, G. Mann, E.S. Newman, J.R.
Jordan, A.T. Mansell, V. Newton, W.
Joyes, D.L. Marron, E.M. Nichols, J.H.
Kachel, E.V. Marsden, E.D. Nicholson, K.G.
Kay, W. Marsh, W.B. Nipperess, S.J.
Kean, R.B. Mason, J.W. Nott, L.R.
Keating, M.L. Masters, J.A. O'Connor, H.B.
Keller, W.D. Masterton, W.E. O'Donnell, J.A.
Kelley, R.A. Maxwell, C. Park, C.J.
Kelly, H.P. Mayo, H.A. Parker, H.
Kenny, A.A. McCarthy, J.K. Parker, P.A.
King, EC. McDowell, H.D. Passfield, R.S.
King, G.T. Mcintosh, G.G Phelan, T
Kirby, R. Mclvor, W.T. Pickering, J.H.E
Kirkwood, D.C. McKenzie, E.L. Pink, M.T.T.
Kirley, A.L. McKew, C O . Pitman, R.W.
Lahne, H.J.A. McLachlan, D. Pivott, A.H.
Laing, Alan D. McLean, N.B. Poole, L.C
Laing, Allan. McMahon, R.J. Pringle, W.S.
Lambert, S. McNaught, K.R. Raffen, D.G.
Lane, R. McRobbie, J. Rapsey, E.A.
Langusch, L.D. McVernon, S.B. Rawlinson, L.J.
Lansell, E.V. Meers, R.B. Read, C.F.
Lasscock, E.D. Metters, C.H. Reade, B.J.
Latham, G.M. Miller, D.M. Reeve, N.F.
Laverty, J.F. Mills, R.E.F. Reinhard, W.M.
Le Griffon, B.A. Mills, C.H. Rhodes, W.J.
Lee, E.A. Mitchell, C.L. Richardson, E.R.
Leverett, M.E. Mitchell, T.C. Roach, J.F.
Little, R.A. Monley, L.S. Roberts, N T .
Lizars, R.A. Moore, G.B. Robertson, D.B.
Lockwood, R.W. Moran-Hilford, D.J. Robertson, T.G.
Lothian, L.A. Morgan, M.L. Robinson, J.E.
Lovett, A.R. Morley, W.K. Roe, R.H.
Lucas, G.A. Morris, K. Rooney, E.P.
Lusk, E.G.B. Rooney, T.M.
Morris-Hadwell, E.B.
Lutwyche, S.E Rose, B.F.
Morrison, R.K.
Maddalena, G.R. Rose, K.E.
Mortimer, C O .
Madden, W.G. Ross, H.L.
Muncaster, G.T.
Maddock, T.S. Ross, H.L.
Nancarrow, R.T.J.
171
Rowley, G.C. Sweeney, P.J. Webster, N.W.
Rush, A.J. Tapner, H.J. Wein, C.E.
Russell, W.J. Tayler, H.W. Welch, E.
Ryan, J.P. Taylor, J. Welsh, P.L.
Samuels, C D . Taylor, W.I. West, D.D.
Sandford, J. Thacker, R.S. Wheatley, R.G.
Sawtell, EA. Thomas, B.L. White, P.J.O.
Sayer, G.W. Thompson, A.A. Whitfield, V.
Schofield, W.J. Thompson, E Whitton, H.T.S.
Scott, M. Thomson, J. Wighton, R.A.
Scrimshaw, R.N. Tiller, B.W. Wild, R.A.
See, E.H. Towill, M.E. Willard, W.E.
Sharpe, H. St A. Tuckwell, E.L. Williams, C.A.
Shaw, R.A. Turnbull, L.J. Williams, G.E
Shawcroft, C.J. Turner, J. Williams, J.K.G.
Sheekey, L.E Tyrrell, J. Willis, G.P.
Shearan G.E. Underwood, H.J. Wilson, C.N.E.
Sillett, R.C. Uren, R.E Wilson, J.R.
Simpson, RA. Vial, L. Wilson, J.W.
Sims, L.E Vial, L.S. Wilson, K.P.
Smith, D. Vidler, R.A. Wisely, S.J.
Smith, D.G. Virgin, S.W. Wishaw, D.K.
Smith, L.A. Walker, B.R. Witheford, C.H.
Spooner, A.H. Walker, K.C. Wohlfarht, E.A.
Steen, W.J. Walker, R.J.M. Wolff, B.W.
Stephen, B.R. Wallace, S. Woodhead, A.
Stone, A.S. Walsh, J.E Woodroffe, H.M.
Stone, R.D. Warhurst, A. Woolcott, E.S.
Stoneham, G.H. Watson, G. Yates, W.J.
Sullivan, P.L. Wearne, C.W. Yeatman, J.
Suthons, H.C. Webster, L.C.
172
BIBLIOGRAPHY
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Air Action in the Papuan Campaign, Maxwell, Alabama, U.S. Air
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Austin, Victor (compiler), To Kokoda and Beyond—The Story of the
39th Battalion 1941-1943, Melbourne, Melbourne University Press,
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Balfe, John D., And Far From Home, Melbourne, Macmillan, 1985.
Balfe, John D., War Without Glory, South Melbourne, Macmillan,
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Budden, KM., That Mob — The Story of the 55/53rd Australian
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Burton, Graham, None Shall Survive—the Battle of the Bismark Sea,
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175

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BEAUFIGHTERS

Secret Action of 305

The RAAF Mirage Story

Alfresco Flight — The RAAF Antarctic Experience

Edge of Centre—The eventful life of Group Captain Gerald Packer

Royal Australian Air Force Museum

Copyright © Royal Australian Air Force Museum

Production by Sylvana Scannapiego, Island Graphics

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be

1 Fashioning a Superb Weapons Platform 1

2 Work-Up to a War Footing 7

3 Early Days at Ward's Strip 21

4 Tree-Topping Wave-Hopping Warplanes 38

5 Bully Beef & Dog Biscuits 53

6 Life at the June Valley Camp 72

7 Moresby Attacked by 100 Aircraft 91

8 Rain, Rain, Rain 113

9 Operations from Vivigani Strip 127

10 Christmas at Kiriwina 149

Nominal Roll 169

W HEN office-bearers of No. 30 Beaufighter Association

George Turnbull Dick

I AM deeply indebted to the many people who so willingly

T HE outstanding fact about the Bristol Beaufighter is that

To complete 30 successful sorties together, a crew of two had to

The 'bag' of N o . 27 Squadron during just one m o n t h in 1943

Work-Up to a War Footing

T HE Squadron came into being at RAAF Station Richmond

A19-1: Squadron Leader Read, Flight Sergeant Greenhill,

Early Days at Ward's Strip

A FORMATION of Beaufighters left Garbutt shortly after

had become quite chummy. A number of 200 litre drums had

Peter Parker and Ron Uren, in A19-28 and A19-33 re-

Since his arrival in New Guinea, Gwynne Hughes and other

All available Beaufighters joined with 45 Fortresses, 44

A BARE fortnight after No. 30 Squadron's arrival in New

Marsh, strictly supervised the work of the camp hygiene

Late in December Padre Kirby dished out parcels sent up by

uncrewed navigators had arrived during that time: Ron Shaw,

When the full story of the Japanese back-to-Tokyo is written the

Bully Beef & Dog Biscuits

T HE New Year was ushered in by heavy rain and the

Enemy fighters made individual attempts to intercept and three

Jack Sandford and Arthur Jaggs were in A19-32 which, in

A reliable source states that 'During the strafing of East Island

Just t w o days after that encouraging message the Squadron's

'Split Pin' Wearne, Adjutant, and John Mason, navigator, Moresby,

Approached Lae from Markam Valley. After run over target by

Firing the 2 0 m m cannons affected the magnetism of the blast

Tinned bully beef or tinned mutton — fair quality; could be used

Sergeant Bill Grogan, although a competent N C O in charge

comestibles for themselves. Don Angus was delighted when he

We know how he'd wish to improve the goldfish he has to dish

The Japanese continued their air attacks on Moresby instal-

Life at the June Valley Camp

J ANUARY 1943 had been a popular month for senior officers

favourite with Squadron aircrew and groundstaff alike and

According to Arthur Ferrier, Damien was bubbling with

The Squadron Signals Officer, Colin Harvey, maintained