Kokoda D+2 To Ioribaiwa

A fitful nights sleep after our first day on the track. Dinner last night was a saveloy (plastic sausage) and a serving of Deb (powdered potato) with some tomato sauce. It hit the spot and the porters were delighted to be done with the weight of the meat. The full moon lifted through the cloud and lined all the jungle foliage with a silver edge. It was a pretty special sight. The night was a soft round of noise (a bubbling stream in the background, roosters crowing at the moon), and weird dreams that seemed more real than reality. Pete thought he was sticking his head out of the tent talking to someone only to realise he had not unzipped the tent – his dreams were weird and lucid too, and he had not partaken the betel!

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Kokoda D+1 Owers Corner

After messing around at Port Moresby we got on the road out to Bomana Cemetery where we were reminded in a most sombre way what this is really about. 3,700 headstones gleamed white in the sun marking what Kokoda represents. This is not just any old track after all. We held a brief memorial service, reading some poems and the Ode, then remembering these fallen soldiers with a minutes silence. I am encouraged by that. This will not be just another bush walk but a memorial and tribute as well.
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Kokoda – D Day

The day started with the occasional whooshing car alerting me to the pending dawn. Tradies getting to site early and telling me to wake up long before the alarms chimed at 0530. But if it wasn’t the tradies waking me up it would have been the dodgy mattress on the church hall floor where we had camped anticipating the early start and a lift to the airport by Liz and Leanne which is where we are now, watching the fog wipe out a crystal clear morning and make us wonder at our real departure time. After some raisin toast  and coffee the fog seems to have lifted and so too our worries about getting started. Read more

Letter to Charles 15 May 10

Dear Charles,

I hope being that familiar so soon is okay. I just wanted to say thanks for the excuse to run up to Palmdale today.  There  is no town centre to speak of but I am sure the couple of women I crept past as they walked their Clydesdales in the shadow of giant Norfolk pines would have it no other way. It was one of those clear blue shiny days Sydney does so well. Brooklyn shone and glistened and there was not a cloud to be seen. Read more

Letter to Mr Charles Sayers

Dear Mr Sayers,

Here you are at last. Funny how a photo makes it all a bit more personal. Just a shame I had to rely on the Army to provide it. I am sure you appreciated the recruits haircut you received just as much as the rest of us did when we received ours.  We had a Mr Sayers for maths (how he got the nickname “Spotty” I will never know) and he was in the Army as well. I wonder if you were ever connected. Read more

Green Red Zone

There was something unsettling sitting in the offices of a certain government department in Baghdad and hearing senior civil servants, some with PhDs from US and European universities, cynically observe that they had swapped their home grown dictator for Dictator Bremer of Washington DC. Perhaps most disturbing was their discussion about how they were poised to assist the imposed coalition government but how they were rejected and ignored – ironic given these are the folk now trying to administer their country and get it back on its feet. We sat in a boarded up building that had been bombed and looted. Here met men charged with providing utilities and basic living infrastructure four years after Bremer had arrived. Outside sat queues of silent and staring Iraqi citizens, waiting for a chance to petition their minister – a novel concept for them. Not all the signs were hopeless, though in my town we are not searched for weapons before we meet our local member. Read more

The Hurt Locker

What the heck was I thinking, watching Wolfsissie during the week? What a hopeless movie, starting with so much promise and fizzing half way through. Anthony Hopkins must need to pay off a credit card or something to be dragged into something as bad as this. Anyway, more than offset by The Hurt Locker which was recommended to me during the week by Greg. It’s one of those movies that sneaks up on you, Read more

Kittyhawk P40 – Australian War Memorial

The worst thing that can be said about the AWM if you live in Canberra is that it is used on wet weekends by locals as a place to entertain the kids. Of which I confess to being very guilty, though a five year old son who confused his story of Jesus riding into Jerusalem with Simpson and his donkey one damp Easter provided no end of mirth. It still does. The best thing that can be said about the War Memorial is that it is not a museum first but a memorial to our veterans, living and dead. How they manage to fuse memorial and museum mystifies most and for that reason alone it is always worth a visit. With our thoughts turning to walking the Kokoda Track, on which the Japanese were first fought to a standstill, then pushed back (“Advance to the rear”, not “retreat”) the presentation of the P40 caught my eye, the diorama showing a ground crew working on the aircraft as it might have been at one of the many Papua New Guinea airstrips hastily built in the face of the impending Japanese onslaught. The aviation hall is world class  – indeed the whole place is of a remarkably high standard. If you have a spare damp Canberra day up your sleeve get lost in the aviation hall at least. You won’t regret it, even it you are in the company of Canberra parents looking for some cheap daycare.

Australian DNA in Fromelles

I have just finished reading the book by Patrick Lindsay which tells the story of the discovery of Australian soldiers buried in a mass grave at Fromelles. But it is more than a story of that discovery – remarkable in its own right, and poignantly achieved by a Greek born Melbourne school teacher who clearly has Australian DNA well and truly leached into him. It is also a reminder of how poorly our troops were utilised in France. After surviving Gallipoli many of who had survived that madness were killed and wounded in a feint which Haig and his staff believed would distract the Germans from the main Somme battle. Trouble was the Germans knew it was a feint and paid it scant attention – only sufficient to rebuff it. Fromelles remains today our worst military disaster. Read more

Long in the tooth Desert Rats

I love stories of reconciliation and forgiveness. Some of the most powerful are those of soldiers imprisoned and treated in the most appalling way by the Japanese, yet travelling to Japan after the war to convey their forgiveness – in words but also in deeds. (I do too understand those who can never stomach the thought of having anything to do with any Japanese culture whatsoever). But reconciliation and forgiveness is a powerful and poignant story wherever it is set. Reconciliation of former combatants happened recently in the home of my brother (picture here refers) who has done a great job of pulling together the story of foes who once faced off at Tobruk. Their story is told somewhat in this story in the Daily Mirror, and there is a rather compelling podcast here of an interview of two of them courtesy of the BBC. And of course, here is his book.

p.s. there is a fascinating follow up BBC interview with Rudolf Schneider here. And a piece in The Independent which is an interesting read too.

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