HTT Vol 90 February, 2015

David Chitham
Published on January 12, 2015

Rfn EDWIN G TSCHARKE, AO. MBE NG2480 SOME MEMORIES OF THE PAST 1942—1943 NGVR EXPERIENCES The following was written by Dr. Tscharke in March, 1997, and a summary was delivered to the Association Committee shortly thereafter. It gives some indication of the difficulties encountered when being evacuated from the New Guinea Goldfields via the Bulldog Track. Ed was a Lutheran Missionary in Finschhafen when the story commences. I have often felt that I should write details of what took place at Finschhafen when all ordained and lay missionaries and lady Dr Agnes Hoeper had to suddenly leave at the time of the imminent invasion by the Japanese on PNG. On 15th Feb 1942 the New Guinea Volunteer Rifles (NGVR), a military unit that was formed of European resi- dents living in N G, planters, gold miners, school teachers, government officials, missionaries and other work personnel living in the Mandated Territory of New Guinea were made aware of the seriousness of the situation, when, on 15th Feb 79 bombers and fighters flew directly over us at Finschhafen mid-day, heading for Lae, bombing Lae and Salamaua to the ground. All European women and children had been evacuated from this entire area of the Mandated Territory just before Christ- mas 1941. On the 16th Feb representatives of the NGR came to Finschhafen where I lived as well as other mission- ary staff, as doctors and teachers and lay missionaries and were suddenly called to Finschhafen Mission Lutheran headquarters bulk store the shipping port where the mission ship M.V. Bavaria was anchored. Here the military officials waited till it was getting dark and then commanded us, in- cluding lady Dr. Hoeper to get aboard and the ship left for an unknown destination which later turned out to be Lae. We arrived just shortly before day break. The reason why we travelled by night was that the Japanese planes were over us all the time and no lights or lamps were to lit at any time. The following days in Lae we were under close mili- tary supervision, where sorting out of personnel took place. A group of us were eventually sent overland by the military to the gold mining valley to the township of Bulwat, which was part of the towns in the Wau—Bulolo Valley where a number of huge gold mining dredges were stationed. At Bulwa the officer in charge of the NGVR called me into his office and handed me an enlisting certificate paper. After I had read it he asked me if I would sign the document, to which I said “Yes”. Following this he said “Here is your rifle and bayonet and bullets and get on your way to Lae with the other soldiers”. This took several days until we arrived at Nadzab air strip near the Gamatzung mission station where our difficult military patrols began. The war situation was now real. No fires could be even lit to boil water for a cup of tea. It was a very frightening time. After approximately six months food ran out and no natives with gardens were to be found anywhere. When our health was deteriorating fast with malaria and dysentery and, of course, malnutrition, the order came “Get out if you can to Port Moresby over the Bulldog Trail. There’s no more food here!” The Japanese were over us all the time by planes and in the jungle. I say it’s only by the grace of God I sur- vived. One story may interest you. Five of us soldiers picked up our rifles etc. and rucksack and walked up towards the Bulolo Valley. Because we couldn’t boil water as smoke would give our position away to the Japanese for a bomb to be dropped, almost immediately we drank water from the Markham River knowing full well the river was used for toilets by New Guineans. I got acute dysentery. The five of us were each given a young native to help us on our way. My help was called Washem. Our trek seemed indeed almost impossible as we were all suffering from malnutrition. After a days walk or so we came to a flooding river with no bridge over it. There was, however, a fairly long tree still with limbs on, reaching over the chain wide river which was a raging torrent in flood. When I saw this river I collapsed to the ground and said to Washem “Maski. Mi dai dai hia” (Let me die here). Because of my ill health I couldn’t keep up with the others. After a whie I became aware that Washem had left me. Some time later he touched me and said “Give me your rucksack”. I asked “Why?” He said he was going to take it across to the other side of the river going over by the tree trunk bridge and left me a second time. I was almost too weak to talk because of my severe dys- entery and malnutrition. After a while Washem stirred me up again and said “Give me your rifle, bayonet and bandolier” (this had 95 bullets), and once more he was gone as I was too weak to look and see what he was really doing. After a while he was back again and said “Masta! I want to carry you on my back across the river over the tree trunk”. Washem was no taller than 5ft 3 ins, if that. I struggled up from where I was lying. I doubt if I weighed more than 100 lbs. I was only skin and bones. He finally got me on his back and held my two legs and slowly walked across that tree with me. What a mira- cle” This fuzzie wuzzie was to me truly an angel, and I cannot thank and praise the Lord enough for this unforgettable experi- ence. I have never in all the years after the war been able to meet my angel Washem , a short Sepik native. I finally caught up with the other four who were in a reasonably close village where there was a small army medical outpost. Here I received treatment for my dysentery condition and later being able to get a fairly decent New Guinea meal, I was able to gain strength. When we got into the gold mining town of Bulwa we could have reasonable meals and my legs began to get stronger, but the threat of war was far from over, and once more we were told to burn all houses and trade stores and get onto the Bulldog Trail over mountains and to Port Moresby. Of course our group of men were now about 25. We went with trucks along a road, when suddenly the order came “Abandon your trucks!” . Then came the next order “Go and push all the 4 or so vehicles over the cliff into the river and start walking”. I might just say that when our children were at Katherine Leh- mann School at Wau, I took Tabitha (my wife) and our children in a vehicle out along that road and finally to the spot where the road ended and—lo and behold—deep down in the river’s rocky edge lay the rusted remnants of those vehicles. To me espe- cially it brought back memories which, unless you have gone through it, cannot be described. From there on we walked and walked, until the about 2 miles high mountains of the Bulldog Trail taxed our strength to the utmost, so much so that I could not carry my rifle anymore, which I told the officer. He replied “A soldier never gets rid of his rifle”. Some distance on I finally was ready to collapse withn the officer this time said “I will look the other way, do what you want to”. I took the bolt out of my rifle and threw it in different direc- tions in the mountain jungle growth. All I had now was my ruck- sack with a few clothes and then my Bible which my parents gave me at the time of my commissioning in 1940, and my bap- tismal and confirmation certificates, and two pictures which I had P AGE 2