Edward Willis

Thanks Rob; Julio dos Santos, the senior guide with Timor Adventures is currently on a field trip to locate and test access to places I listed in the itinerary and has taken some great photos and spoken to a lot of local people along the way - https://www.facebook.com/edward.willis.56 Regards Ed

THE BATTLE OF LILTAI AND THE DEATH OF BOB EWAN Studio portrait of some members of the 2nd Independent Company. Second row sixth from left is WX10167 Lance Corporal Robert Ewen Oliver (alias Robert Ewan) of Cue, WA, who was killed in action in Timor on 14 August 1942 Lance Corporal Oliver Robert ‘Bob’ Ewan (WX10167), served with the No.2 Independent Company in Portuguese Timor and was killed in action on the 14th August 1942 in the ‘Battle of Liltai’. He was one of several men in the unit who, for various reasons, enlisted under a false name – his real name was Robert Ewan Oliver. Born in Durham, England in 1912 he emigrated with his family to the Lake Macquarie area in NSW in 1925. With the onset of the Depression and estranged from his father, the teenager made his own way in life as a farm labourer in Queensland and South Australia before stowing away on a cargo ship bound from Port Adelaide to Fremantle. He worked in various jobs in the north west of WA and was a tool sharpener at the Big Bell Mine in 1941 at the time of his enlistment. He, along with several other men from the WA Goldfields, volunteered for ‘special service’, was trained on Wilsons Promontory and became one of the No. 2 Independent Company ‘originals’ as a member of 4 Section, B Platoon. Bob Ewan was no saint – his service record shows he was disciplined and fined for having a venereal disease infection, being absent without leave and disobeying a lawful command given by his superior officer. Despite these indiscretions, Ewan was recognised for his leadership qualities and was a Lance Corporal at the time he was killed. The following story written by his compatriot Paddy Kenneally demonstrates Ewan was a brave and compassionate soldier who participated with distinction in several significant actions. His service was recognised with a posthumous Mention in Despatches cited for: Exceptional services in the field in the South West Pacific Area during the period 7th December 1941 to 30th September 1943. Kenneally gives a well-informed account of the critical defensive action against the Japanese at Liltai and writes movingly of his involvement with the party that found and buried Bob Ewan’s body. Members of the Timor 1942 Commando Campaign group will visit Liltai during their forthcoming tour of Timor in April-May this year. Photos of Bob Ewan from his enlistment record The following story written by Paddy Kenneally was originally published in the 2/2 Commando Courier of March 2006, pp.16, 18-20. L/Cpl. Robert Ewan WX 10167 K.I.A. Liltai, East Timor 14/8/1942 In May 2005, Monica O'Brien, the producer of "A Debt of Honour" sent me a letter from a woman who had seen the program, inquiring if I knew her brother giving his name as Robert Oliver. I contacted her and told her that I was sure there was no man with that name with the 2/2nd in Timor - then she dropped a bombshell! She still had the report of his death in 1942 as follows: WX 10167 L/Cpl. Robert Oliver (alias Ewan) killed in action 14/8/1942. As soon as she said Ewan I knew right away. He was Bob Ewan 4 Section, 2/2nd Independent Company. She also gave me some details, here they are - Robert Ewan Oliver was born in Winslot Gateshead, Durham, England in 1912, father James Luke Oliver, mother Margaret Oliver (nee Morrison). The mother died, the father married again and arrived in Australia in 1925 and settled in Kahibah, in the Lake Macquarie area new Newcastle, N.S.W. Early Years Bob and his father did not get on well. Bob left home about 1928 and wandered up into Queensland. The depression came. He worked at whatever he could find, mostly on outback sheep and cattle stations. He had also changed his name to the Ewan part of his Christian name. He wandered down through far Western Queensland into South Australia. His intention was to get to Western Australia. He knew such a trip by rattler (goods trains) which was the usual mode of transport by men on the track during the thirties, would be impossible. He and his mate went to the Outer Harbour in Port Adelaide where the overseas ships docked. There was one of the Bay Line ships either the Hudson, the Esperance, the Jervis Bay loading. Bob couldn't remember which. Stowaway to Fremantle He approached a wharfie, asked a few questions, the wharfie asked a few in return and one was right to the point - "What do you really want to know mate?" Bob told him, "Stowaway to Fremantle". "You and your mate go aboard, come back to the hatchman, that's the bloke directing the winch drivers on deck. By that time, I'll have given him your message." They did as [they were] told. The hatchman told them "Hop down into the hold where they are working. We'll be finished loading pretty soon and she'll sail as soon as we finish. The blokes down below will look after you and tell you what to do. They did. We're finishing now; we'll be putting the hatches on. You'll feel and hear the engines when she pulls out. Give her about four hours and starting pounding on the deck hatch. With a piece of dunnage someone will hear you. They'll open up, but they won't turn back. You and your mate are on your way to Fremantle and we'll leave a billy full of water with you. "Good Luck!" In WA That’s how it happened and that's how Bob and his mate arrived in Fremantle, arrested as stowaways. They got two weeks in Fremantle gaol. When freed they parted company. He had a few bob as the ship's crew had taken up a collection for them. Bob headed for the North West, picking up work on sheep and cattle stations. He drove a truck out of Carnarvon at one period. It was an 1100 mile round trip to outback stations. He was postman, delivery man and passenger transporter. He had some great stories of characters he had met. When war broke out he was working as a tool sharpener at the "Big Bell Goldmine". I also believe somewhere in his travels or jobs he ran into Peter Campbell (later 2 Section 2/2nd). No. 2 Independent Company Original Bob joined the AIF then volunteered for the Independent Companies, went to Foster down on Wilson's Promontory for training with the draft from W.A. By the end of August 1941 their training was finished. They were now No. 2 Australian Independent Company and the Double Red Diamond was their colour patch. The Unit was given final leave. Bob opted to go to Newcastle to his family. His stepmother and new sisters who had never seen him loved him. His father hadn't changed. Little Ann just starting school walked proudly to school every morning holding hands with her big soldier brother. Leave finished, and No. 2 Independent Company reassembled in Adelaide. Six weeks of easy living then north to Katherine, no sooner was it finished when No. 2 Independent Company boarded cattle trucks once more for Darwin, boarding the ‘Zealandia’ on December 8th and sailed from there for Koepang Dutch Timor on December 10th as part of Sparrow Force. In Action - Portuguese Timor On 17th December 1941 'A' and 'C' Platoon and Coy. H.Q. landed in Dili. Bob as a member of 'B' Platoon arrived a week or so later on the 'Canopus'. By this time 86% were down with malaria. The powers that be decided that the flats around Dili were unhealthy, so the Unit was dispersed to the mountains, 'C' Platoon at Three Spurs on the Ermera road, 'B' Platoon at Malho with No.4 Section at Bazaar-Tete overlooking the North Coast road going west to Dutch Timor. The Japs landed on the night 19/20th February [and] by 10. a.m. they had captured Dili and Coy. HQ didn't know. Alan Hollow On the night of February 28th 4 Section and "B' Platoon HQ ambushed Jap trucks returning from Liquiça, unfortunately by then they had transported about 120 Japs to Liquiça. On March 2nd those Japs were ambushed by No.4 Section near Bazaar-Tete. The Japs suffered heavily, and No. 4 Section did not come off unscathed. Two men were killed and three wounded. Bob Ewan went to where Alan Hollow was lying, put a field dressing as best he could around Alan's shattered jaw and said, "Come on, we're getting out of here." If it hadn't been for Bob, Alan would have been left to the mercy of the Japs. Paddy Meets Bob What was left of 4 Section finished up at Hatu-Udo near the South Coast and that was where I first met Bob 'Ewan'. I wasn't in 4 Section at Bazaar-Tete, Arthur 'Slim' Holden and I joined the Section in Hatu-Udo about the end of March 1942. I was a very, very green untrained Reo. Bob Ewan taught me how to use and strip a Tommy gun and a Bren gun. [At the] end of April 4 Section headed for Aileu and Remexio. We raided Dili on the night of the 16th May 1942. We lost no men in the raid. Don't think the Japs lost many either and a week later six men of 4 Section ambushed a big party of Japs on the Remexio track. It was far more successful, and we lost no men. The rest of the section under Captain Laidlaw and Lieutenant Nisbet were only departing Kikrassi when the ambush started so they had no part in it. Bob with the rest of 4 Section operated out of Remexio from May until the August Offensive in 1942. The Battle of Liltai "B" Platoon was driven back to Liltai. The Japs stopped on high ground between Remexio [and] Liltai and planned. Capt. Laidlaw disposed his platoon around Liltai, 5 Section at the track junction, 4 Section on high ground on a track east of 5 Section, 6 Section on the high knoll adjacent to and length of Liltai. [On] the night of 14th August the Japs made their move, there was a loud boom then silence followed by a lone Jap voice chanting something which in turn was followed by a massive shout from hundreds of voices. The Japs had arrived. Lieut. Nisbet sent Bill Holly and Neil Scott down to Liltai to Capt. Laidlaw seeking instructions. The Japs practically standing on our toes and obviously no plan of action had been agreed on. Worse was to come. Capt. Laidlaw told Bill Holly 4 Section was to withdraw to Liltai and he was also to inform 5 Section to withdraw from the track junction. Bill said to 'the Bull', "5 Section won't withdraw until 4 Section has passed through them." Laidlaw's answer, "5 Section will withdraw as soon as they receive the order." Bill Holly gave 5 Section their orders and then came on to Lieut. Nisbet and gave him the order to withdraw. Mick Morgan led his subsection down the track. Ray Aitkin's subsection was about to follow when there was a shot. Mick Morgan and some of his men jumped the track and went bush. Bob Ewan and three men came back to where we were. Lieut. Nisbet said, "What's wrong?" "The Japs are up the track well past the junction" said Bob. Tom didn't think so; Bob and his men were ordered back down the track. Bob quietly said to the men with him, "Come on chaps," and led the way. Shortly another shot and then the hill erupted. Bullets were coming from everywhere, whistling past our ears, ploughing into the ground near our feet. The Japs didn't know where we were, but their guessing was good. We pulled out back up the hill, up there more shooting. Tom Nisbet, Neil Scott and I sprang to the left. Ray Aitken and the others jumped right. No. 4 Section was scattered round the mountain and no one knew who was where. We finally met up. Next morning over the river and high up on the Remexio-Turuscai track a huge earth tremor nearly shook us off the mountain. 'B' Platoon went east to Fato-Maquerec. Map showing the Liltai, located south of Remexio from the 'Area study of Portuguese Timor' (1943) Finding Bob Ewan’s Body Tex Richards, Noel Buckman and Alfredo da Santos had come in very late on the previous afternoon. Charlie King and I were guarding the track. I asked Tex what the score was. He said, "We were cut off and hid up all day under a well concealed rock." "What about Bob?" I asked. "Can’t say for certain but I think he's been killed, we walked straight into the Japs when we were ordered back down the track." Bill Holly, Alfredo da Santos and I went back from Fato-Maquerec to Liltai. We thought if Bob was wounded he would hide up somewhere on the mountain between Turuscai and Liltai. We only saw three Timorese. They didn't want to come with us, it was Alfredo who persuaded them to come. If we found Bob wounded, we would need help. We found Bob, he had been killed instantly. The bullet hit him at the bottom of the left pectoral muscle. There was not one empty 45 shell in the vicinity, (Bob had a Tommy Gun.) You know what the sounds are near a Timor Village, women chattering as they husk corn or rice, kids yelling and shouting as they play and pigs grunting as they forage for food. There was not a sound anywhere; we were in an empty silent land. The only noise was made by us as we scraped and gauged with our bayonets in the rock hard ground to dig a grave for our mate's body. The mournful sound of the wind in the trees the only other sound as if in mourning for the man we were burying. We buried Bob alongside the track in the mountains far from the outback he knew so well. I still remember his quiet voice as he said, "Come on chaps," as he walked down the track to the death he knew was inevitable. All I could do was kneel and say a 'Hail Mary' for one of the finest men it was my good fortune to call friend. Paddy Kenneally Final Resting Place NB: Robert now rests peacefully in the Ambon War Cemetery which is beautifully kept by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission. His grave reference is 19C 16. The Ambon War Cemetery (known locally as the Australian Cemetery) is 5 kilometres North East of Ambon on the main road to Galala. OLIVER_ROBERT_EWAN.pdf

Peter Snell sent through several additional photos and videos plus a local news story regarding the items transported to Hatolia from the container partially funded by the 2/2 Commando Association of Australia.

PROPOSAL FOR COMPACT TEACHER TRAINING (PROFESSIONAL DEVELOPMENT) FOR CALOHAN-LETEFOHO VILLA PRIMARY SCHOOL, LETEFOHO SUBDISTRICT, MUNICIPALITY OF ERMERA, TIMOR-LESTE I would like to propose that the Association provides funding to support Compact Teacher Training (Professional Development) for Calohan-Letefoho Villa Primary School, Letefoho Subdistrict, Municipality of Ermera, Timor-Leste. This follows on the successful completion of a similar training program funded by the Association at Ailelo/Cosbouk and Samara Schools in the Hatolia Subdistrict in July 2017. The Melville Friends of Hatolia (MFoH) organised that training session but wound itself as an association in late November 2017. At its final meeting MFoH members agreed to donate the bulk of its remaining funds (approximately $3,800) to the 2/2 Commando Association of Australia to be used to fund professional development training for teachers in Timor-Leste. This was in recognition of the successful cooperation between the two organisations in completing teacher training and toilet construction projects over the previous three years. I invited Snr Francisco Jorge dos Santos, Program Manager, Learning Resource Development Center to submit a budget proposal for professional development training at another school and he has just sent me the attached document for our consideration. The total cost is US$5,315 = AUD$6,432. I propose that the Association uses the $3,800 donated by MFoH towards the cost of the training and ‘tops up’ the balance from its own funds. If the Committee supports this project, I will ask the MFoH Treasurer to transfer its donation to the Association’s bank account. Ed Willis Microsoft Word - Draft PROPOSED BUDGET CTT_Letefoho.doc copy.pdf

A useful adjunct to this post is provided by the just published book by Jim Eames - 'Courage in the skies: the untold story of Qantas, its brave men and their extraordinary role in World War II. - Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 2017 - ISBN 978 1 76029 393 2. Chapter 14 'The reluctant spy: Dave Ross's Dili dilemma' pp.130-139 provides an entertaining and informative account of Ross's role and activities both prior to and after the Japanese invasion.Manage

75 YEARS ON NO. 2 INDEPENDENT COMPANY DEPARTS TIMOR December 15 1942 Introduction Following the first tragic failed attempt to evacuate the No. 2 Independent Company (2/2) involving the ships Armidale, Castlemaine and Kuru’ recounted in the previous post in this series, another mission was rapidly organised, this time using the Dutch destroyer ‘Tjerk Hides’. The 2/2 men had an anxious time moving from their frontline positions to the new evacuation site at the mouth of the Quelan River, in contact with advancing enemy troops; one man was killed in action during a Japanese ambush. Additional Portuguese civilians were also escorted to the evacuation site. Cyril Ayris continued his account of the, this time, successful evacuation in Chapter 40 ‘Emotional Farewells’ including the moving goodbyes of the 2/2 men to their creados on the beach. Most of the locations mentioned in this story (including Same, Betano, Alas and the mouth of the Quelan River) will be visited during the forthcoming ‘Timor 1942 Commando Campaign Tour’ (April 23 – 2 May 2018). There has been strong interest from the 2/2 fraternity and it’s not too late to register your interest and book for the tour. Contact Ed Willis if you would like more information about the tour (0438907480, ew988662@bigpond.net.au). Another Attempted Evacuation Timor Callinan belatedly received news from Darwin of the attacks on the ships and of the loss of his Dutch reinforcements. Because he now had to reorganise his defences, he requested a delay of twenty-four hours before another attempted evacuation. Darwin agreed. Callinan was told that the ship which would take them off would be the Dutch destroyer Tjerk Hides. All platoons were notified of the change of plan and were ordered to remain in their areas pending further instructions. Same, Portuguese Timor, December 1945 D Platoon Ambushed Preparations for the second evacuation had been progressing fairly well considering the circumstances, when Doig’s D platoon struck trouble. The platoon, along with the sick, wounded and the remaining Dutch and Portuguese, was to have been taken off in the first stage. It was in Same when, on the morning of 10 December, its rearguard withdrew from the saddle above the town in readiness for the long march to the Quelan River. Also in the town was a pack train loaded with weapons and supplies for a small group of 2/4th men which was training and arming the Timorese. Same, Timor-Leste, May 2014 The pack train’s escort had just finished breakfast with the 2/2nd rearguard and was about to move off when Japanese troops opened fire on them from concealed positions, killing Spr L.C. Moule. The horses bolted with the weapons and supplies on their backs, leaving the rest of the rear party and the escorts to fight their way out of the town. Spr D. A. Sagar was wounded in the withdrawal. This surprise attack was a tragedy for the Australians who had now lost a man the day before he was to be evacuated, not to mention an entire pack train of valuable weapons and supplies. Code books had also gone, forcing the Australians to adopt an emergency code. Map showing Betano and the Quelan River mouth Evacuation Point Moved to the Mouth of the Quelan River Realising the enemy was now dangerously close to Betano, Callinan moved his evacuation point five kilometres east, to the mouth of the Quelan River. C Platoon meanwhile had O-pipped Maubisse and reported few Japanese there. However, No. 9 Section was attacked by about forty Timorese, some of whom were killed. The Travails of Sgt Hopper in Same Later in the day the Japanese occupied Same. They had not been there long when Sgt Hopper (2/4th Signals) lived up to his name – and proved in the process that the reputation established by the 2/2nd was in good hands. Hopper and his new creado had ridden into Same on a pony, quite unaware that the town had new tenants. When he was confronted by a Japanese soldier he yanked his pony around and was at full stretch when the soldier opened fire on him from less than ten metres. Hopper leaped from his alarmed steed and ran for his life, his creado at his heels and bullets whistling past his head. Signaller and creado made it to some scrub where they remained in hiding for the rest of the day. The Night of 11 December 1942 On the night of 11 December 1942, at the mouth of the Quelan River, the darkness was briefly punctuated by two winking pinpoints of light, the first from the beach, the second from the sea. A ripple of suppressed excitement passed through those on the beach. Among them were Doig’s D Platoon, the sick, the wounded and some Dutch and Portuguese women and children, all deep in their own thoughts. For some there was the promise of medical attention, for others there was the fear that even at this late stage the evacuation would be called off, or that the Japanese would arrive. For the Australians, there was the knowledge that they had survived and that they were going home. They could almost smell the wattle. Almost. They were not out of the woods yet – every man on the beach knew that. The Japanese were only a few kilometres away and even if the evacuees reached the ship, there was still the voyage across the Timor sea where enemy planes and submarines could send them to the bottom. Doig later described the evacuation: The signal fires were lit and when the ship was in sight and acknowledged the flares, the operation began. The first sign the waiting troops had was the sound of the vessel’s motorboats chugging towards them, towing flat-bottom boats manned by one sailor. These came ashore after being set adrift from the motorboats. Personnel immediately scrambled aboard them. When fully loaded they were picked up by the motorboats and taken rapidly to the destroyer which had scrambling nets over the side. We climbed the nets and were assisted aboard by the crew. Several trips were required to pick up the intending passengers. Within seconds the anchor came up and we were on our way. There was no music we would more gladly have heard than the grinding of those anchor chains as they found their way onboard. Phase Two of the Evacuation Back on Timor preparations for phase two of the evacuation were being hampered by the enemy’s occupation of Same, which was uncomfortably close to the Quelan River. The remaining platoons took up positions around the town from where they could keep an eye on Japanese movements and, if possible, lead them away from the river mouth. As expected the Japanese moved east to Alas, arriving on the morning of 15 December 1942. The second evacuation was planned for that night. There now began a game of cat and mouse, though who filled which role is arguable. The Bull’s platoon at Fatu-Cuac, only ten kilometres from Alas, was warned of the Japanese move as was Nisbet’s platoon between Fatu-Berliu and Alas. The 2/2nd had no idea where the enemy would go from Alas and, as they were supposed to be pulling out that night, there was little they could do anyway. With the rest of the 2/2nd (apart from Turton’s platoon) centred around Betano and Fatu-Cuac it was decided to draw the enemy towards Betano until it was dark, then make a headlong dash for the Quelan River five kilometres to the east. With a bit of luck, they would be on their ship and away before the Japanese caught up with them. Laidlaw’s headquarters opened fire on the Japanese as they approached Fatu-Cuac inflicting some casualties. The Australians withdrew the moment the enemy deployed for action. Callinan said later: The Japanese were not very happy about their position; they seemed to sense the continuous observation and presence of our troops. They pushed into Fatu-Cuac then hurried northwards again to Same. Dexter, on a reconnaissance along the Same – Fatu-Cuac track, heard approaching footsteps and concealed himself in a clump of bamboo alongside the track. From there he counted two hundred Japanese march past. He could have reached out and touched some of them. The danger had passed but it was a narrow escape. Doc Wheatley Recalls Doc Wheatley recalled his evacuation: “I remember when word came through that we were to go home and that we were to make our way to Betano as unobtrusively as possible. We tried to keep it secret but the Japs came out in force to stop us. “It took a couple of days to move in close to the beach then we heard that the Japs were already there. We were told to circle around them and come out on the beach about three miles further on. There were a couple of skirmishes behind us but we didn’t get involved. We hadn’t eaten that day. Somebody arrived with a pot of rice and put a spoonful in our hands; it was gratefully received. Doc Wheatley “When we arrived at the river we could hear the Sigs talking to the ship. We were told to pile our weapons on the beach. I was reluctant to do that as I had developed a real affection for my sniper’s rifle. Then the boats arrived to take us off. “Saying goodbye to Montelo (his creado) was awful, I couldn’t find any words to say to him. In the end, I just gave him a hug and ruffled his hair and said, ‘Thanks, kid.’ When the boats pulled away I felt like crying. He was just standing there, watching us going out of his life. We had told all our creados that the 2/4th troops would be glad to have them. I hope that was what happened to them.” Harry Sproxton Remembers Harry Sproxton said that his No. 9 Section had set out for the beach after dark on 14 December. Light rain was falling making the track slippery and dangerous. “We walked until just after daylight then had a spell, knowing we still had more than half way to go,” he said. “We stopped for a bite to eat at Alas, still with six hours’ walking ahead of us.” At one stage the platoon had to cross a raging river which threatened death to anybody venturing into its rock-strewn course. The platoon halted, totally dismayed at the seemingly impossible crossing. Some struggled across but others knew it was beyond them. Even Ron Dook, a top-grade swimmer, declared the river almost impassable. It seemed that the remainder of the platoon was doomed to miss the ship. The day was saved by Pte Tom Crouch who waded out as far as possible, grabbed a protruding rock and, bracing his feet, held out his rifle to the first in line. He pulled him towards the rock then pushed him to the other side. In that way, he got the rest of the men safely to the other side. Sproxton: “It was dark when we finally reached the beach. Everyone was in a state of complete exhaustion. I’m sure it was only the thought of going home that had kept us going. “I can still see Munlalo’s (his creado) sad eyes as I gave him all my belongings except my Tommy gun. “When we reached the ship, burly sailors reached over and dragged us onto the deck, then others ushered us below. There was standing room only. We were seeing faces we hadn’t seen for months, it was an emotional time we will all remember.” Ray Parry’s No. 5 Section Ray Parry’s No. 5 Section was fortunate to have made the river mouth rendezvous. About a week earlier Parry had led a two-man reconnaissance patrol to a village near the north coastal town of Manatuto, to check out forty armed pro-Japanese Chinese who were said to be in the area. They reached the village after a long trek across mountains and through steep-sided gorges, only to find it ominously quiet. The Australians were creeping up on an administration building when they were confronted by about forty Chinese-Japanese, all carrying weapons. It was a tense moment which was relieved only when the two Australians turned about and returned to their section. A few days later the eighteen-man No. 5 Section led by Ted Loud had returned to the village, this time as a fighting patrol equipped to do business. They were carrying Tommy guns, rifles, bayonets and hand grenades. The section positioned itself along a ridge behind the administration building and settled in for the night. Loud’s plan was to hit the village just before dawn. At 11.30 p.m. the section came to alert – somebody was moving towards their position. The No. 5 men silently merged into the shadows as the footsteps drew cautiously closer. It was not until the figure was almost on them that they recognised it to be that of a soldier from their platoon. He had been sent to find them and to suggest that they call off the attack as the company was to be evacuated. “I can’t remember who brought the message but he did a magnificent job in finding us,” said Parry. “Ted Loud addressed the section telling them they were to vote on whether they wanted to continue with the planned attack. The vote was unanimous – WE GO HOME. “When we got back to Alas we moved to a deserted village several hundred metres above the trail linking Same, Alas and Viqueque. We had not been there long when a big party of Japanese arrived. We took cover while they had a good look around and settled in for a rest and a cigarette. They eventually headed out towards Same. They were doubtless heading for Betano where they believed we would be carrying out the evacuation. We made no attempt to engage them; we didn’t want to draw attention to the Alas area.” The Civilian Refugees When the civilian refugees eventually reached the south, they were “accommodated” in a make-shift camp near Fatu Cuac which had been organised by Eric Smyth. “Accommodated” is something of an over-statement given that there were no oomahs or facilities, just low scrub to protect them from the sun and observation from the air. “They came in from everywhere,” said Smyth. “We took only the women and children, escorting them to the beach with their little bundles of possessions.” Parry said the trek from the main track to Viqueque and along the coast was a nightmare journey across crocodile-infested waterways. “There were no villages – nobody lived there,” he said. The platoon rendezvoused with two elderly Portuguese nuns from a mission in the interior who were to be evacuated with their unit. Teams of mission boys had carried them along the coast in beautifully woven chairs fitted with bamboo poles through the arms. There were four boys to each chair with several more in reserve. With them were another eight nuns, twelve sisters, eleven priests and a small group of Timorese teachers. Sgt Tomasetti, who had been responsible for the party, said: “Some of the Order members were riding ponies. Most wore white hats and habits which they stubbornly, though politely, refused to discard or conceal. This strange party formed a long and cumbersome line as it moved on foot or on pony and palanquin, to the embarkation point. “Shortly after moving off a Japanese plane flew low over the line but the pilot failed to see us, despite all the white clothing.” It was only then that the nuns and priests agreed to “dirty-up” their garments with some Timorese soil. In the resulting confusion several palanquin bearers, deciding that there were more rewarding ways of spending their time than carrying nuns across Timor, took to the bush and were not seen again. Two Timorese teachers were asked to take their place but haughtily declined, saying that such duty was beneath their calling. The by-now short-tempered Australians convinced them otherwise, but as the teachers reluctantly bent to their task the nuns climbed from their chairs, declaring that they would rather walk than be the cause of disharmony. The Australians again turned threatening. The nuns resumed their seats ...... the teachers took their positions on the poles ...... and the party wobbled away to its promised salvation. The cavalcade picked its way between the rocks and crocodiles arriving in plenty of time for the evacuation, though Parry said he was never able to discover how the ship’s crew managed to haul the nuns up the vessel’s side from the assault craft. “They were large ladies,” he said. Saying Goodbye to the Creados Parry spoke fondly of Berracauly, his creado whom he had to leave behind. “Saying goodbye to Berracauly was one of the hardest moments of my life,” he said. “My nine-year-old friend and teacher of his language and customs – I have always remembered his friendship and courage.” All the Australians found this abandonment of their creados on the beach at Quelan, nothing short of gut wrenching. Fred Growns said: “As we prepared to leave, I told Berimou what we were doing. I wrote out an ownership receipt for the horse I had been using, a surat for his help and I gave him everything I had – gear, money, everything except a small haversack with personal papers. I said goodbye to him and swam out in the darkness to the waiting boats.” Eric Smyth, who was still responsible for the nuns and refugees, had to carry one of the nuns to a waiting boat. “It was very dicey,” he said. “A stiff on-shore breeze was whipping up what was quite a heavy sea for that part of the world. I don’t know how we managed to get her into the boat. We had to hurry. The ship was leaving at a certain time and anybody who was not onboard was to be left behind.” (When Smyth returned to Timor with his wife twenty-five years later they accidentally met up with the nun he had carried to the boat; she could remember every minute of it.) The Evacuation Ship Tjerk Hides The evacuation ship Tjerk Hides, which was based at Fremantle, was practically a new ship with a Dutch crew and a British liaison officer on board. The Australians would remember the crew’s hospitality long after the war, mainly it appears because of the bread and jam which the sailors placed before them. It was the first time they had tasted bread since leaving Australia. The destroyer arrived off the Quelan River on time and after another exchange of signals, the last of the 2/2nd were ferried out to climb the scramble nets to the deck. They were on their way back to Australia within two hours of the ship’s arrival. One of the last to board the ship was Ken Monk who stood outpost duty with a Bren gun until everybody had left the beach. Stan Sadler said: “It was a wonderful feeling to know we were going home after so many months of strain and anxiety. Many of us had thought we would not see home again.” Fremantle, WA 1942. Port Side Aerial View of the Dutch Destroyer ‘Tjerk Hides’ A naval officer who was in charge of a landing party, whose name has been lost in the passage of time, wrote a wonderful descriptive account of the evacuation: The engines stop. There is an eerie silence save for the sound of the surf. Spicy scents drift out from the shore. Then all is bustle as the big assault boat is slid into the water over the stern, and weapons, ammunition, food, medicines, and kerosene tins full of two shilling pieces are hurriedly loaded into it. We climb down the scrambling net over the side and into the boat. Four sailors are at the oars and there is a long sweep oar for steering. We grab it and give the order to shove off. The sailors are mostly bearded. They are armed with knives or revolvers and wear heavy boots in case they have to take to the hills. They look like extras for The Pirates of Penzance, but none is singing. The small ship looks large as we pull away from her in the darkness. The first surge lifts the boat, carries her forward, slips from under her bow and breaks inshore. The surf is low, but it still needs care to keep the boat running straight. In a few minutes, there is broken water all around and about a dozen large, wild-looking figures, some naked, rush into the water, grab the sides of the boat and haul her up onto the sand. There are handshakes and low-voiced greetings. The cargo is quickly unloaded and then there is an astonishing sight. Men with knives and bayonets are hacking open some of the tins of meat and wolfing it down like half-starved dogs. Ponies appear on the beach and are loaded. Figures emerge from the dark and crowd into the boat. These are the Portuguese men, women and children we have come to rescue. Some are weak and ill and have to be half carried. They push around the boat – there are too many for safety – and more keep climbing in, despite our efforts to control them. The boat is low in the water, not room for another body. At last she is off, pushed into the deep by the commandos. It is hard to row out to the ship, where the human cargo climbs the scrambling nets or is lifted onboard. The turn-around of the boats seems to take ages. At last the anchor is in and after midnight, with the engines roaring at full power and consuming ninety gallons every hour, we fly along at seventeen knots (31 km/h), the heavy assault boat bouncing on a bar-taut line in our wake. Daylight reveals a sad sight on deck. Some of the Portuguese lying around the guns are in a very bad way. Having left all that they held dear on the island, it seems that some are soon to leave life itself. They are violently seasick and are lying in their filth. We wipe their faces and give them tea in our chipped mugs. A Tall, Old Man in a White Suit and a White Panama Hat The writer described a meeting with a Portuguese which has haunted him over the years: Things were tense on the beach that night and the Japanese believed to be close by. I was standing up to my waist in the low surf beside the boat, trying to control it and keep its head into the waves. We were about to push off when I glanced back at the beach. There, standing alone in the shallows, was a tall, old man in a white suit and a white panama hat. I cannot forget him; after all these years, I can still see him standing there motionless, dignified, authoritative. He was not calling out to me, or beckoning, or making any effort to save himself and come to me. He was just standing there, looking at the boat and his departing people – just watching us go. I could not leave him. I waded quickly back and grabbed him. He was very frail and thin; his hair was white. He just looked at me. Neither of us spoke, there was nothing to say. Hampered by my weapons and our soaking, clinging clothes, I dragged him through the surf to the boat, pushed him over the side into the stern sheets by my sweep oar, jumped in and ordered the sailors to pull hard as the commandos shoved us forward. Once we were safely through the surf I saw the old man turn and look back for a long time at the island in the starlight. Then he took something from his hand, gave it to me and spoke for the first time – in elegant English. “If you go to Portugal, show this,” he said. It was a handsome silver ring with a rampant golden lion on a field of jade green, perhaps the armorial bearings of some ancient Portuguese family with centuries of services in the East. Nothing now for him but memories. Everything he had owned on the island he had lost, except for that ring and he gave that to me. I did not ask his name and I have never been to Portugal, but I still treasure that memory and his ring. Heading to Darwin When morning broke some of the men went on deck. The Tjerk Hides was powering through a flat calm sea with every ounce of speed her engines were capable of delivering. White water curled majestically from her raked bows, a creamy wake briefly marked her passage. Later in the morning two Beaufighters began circling the ship in case enemy bombers and fighters launched a last desperate attack from Dili. They did not appear – in fact the only excitement was when the ship’s gunners opened fire on a mine towards the end of the voyage. They failed to detonate it. The men watched in silence when later in the day, a thin brown line appeared on the horizon, indistinct in the tropical haze. Slowly it took shape. Low hills could be seen. The soldiers could smell the land of their birth. “I cannot describe our feelings,” said Ray Parry. “After what we had endured it was a beautiful and welcome sight.” Arrival in Darwin A crewman from HMAS Arunta watched their arrival. He said: “They looked like figures in an atrocity propaganda film – starved, gaunt and as overgrown as a brushwood patch. Haggard and emaciated they stood there, clad in anything the sailors had been able to give them. “An order cracked out. As one man, the lines snapped to attention, heads held erect. In their eyes was a light that brought a lump to your throat. “Their officer stepped aft and saluted the captain. “‘Carry on, Sir?’ “‘Yes please.’ “Only when the officer came back, was his limp evident. “The lines turned and filed over the gangway. One grizzled old sergeant spoke to the coxswain: ‘If only we could have saved our gear and marched ashore as a company, instead of like a crowd of bloody scarecrows.’” Ray Parry said: “Men and women of the three services were present when our destroyer entered the harbour and tied up at the wharf. Exhausted, bearded men with the mud of Timor still on their bodies, moved off the ship in single file, watched from the rails by Dutch crewmen. I think the people waiting to meet us were in a state of awe or shock at seeing Australian troops in such a state, wearing tattered uniforms, many without hats or steel helmets. There was not a sound from them. It was so quiet.” Perhaps the sight of Darwin’s half-destroyed wharf and bomb-shattered buildings had sobered their elation. Conclusion In another time, there would have been a groundswell of remorse over the twenty-six young men who had not come back. But this was wartime – the 2/2nd had killed hundreds of Japanese. As a result, national remorse gave way to a sense of profound pride for what they had achieved. In November 1942, a month before the withdrawal of the 2/2nd, Sparrow Force was renamed Lancer Force and given the task of continuing to tie down the Japanese, denying them a base for any operations in the Pacific. However, the relief 2/4th Independent Coy was evacuated from Portuguese Timor only three weeks after the 2/2nd. Callinan explained that twenty thousand Japanese had squeezed him to the point where he had only thirty-five kilometres of south coastal country open to him. He said the air was becoming a little stuffy.

75 YEARS ON THE ARMIDALE TRAGEDY AND HEROIC TEDDY SHEEAN On 1 December commemoration services will be held in several locations around Australia to recognise the 75th anniversary of the sinking of the corvette Armidale by Japanese aircraft and the heroic efforts of Able Seaman Teddy Sheean to defend his shipmates as the ship went down. [1] The sinking of the Armidale, the tragic loss of lives that followed and other dramatic associated events involving the little ship Kuru and the sister corvette Castlemaine were brought about by the first attempt to evacuate the No. 2 Independent Company from Portuguese Timor. Cyril Ayris recounted the story of what happened in his history of the 2/2, All the Bull’s men [2]: 40 EMOTIONAL FAREWELL [During November 1942] it was decided in Australia to evacuate the 2/2nd, Dutch and some Portuguese from Timor, leaving the 2/4th to take over. The 2/2nd had been there more than eleven months and was utterly exhausted. Callinan’s orders were that the evacuation was to be in two phases: First the Dutch and Portuguese, then the Australians. The timing for the departure of the Dutch and Portuguese appears to have been left to his discretion, as was the pick-up point and all other arrangements. … Three ships would take them off – the little Kuru and the corvettes HMAS Castlemaine and HMAS Armidale. The corvettes would also be landing a new Dutch detachment to replace those being evacuated with the Australians. The Australian Navy’s contribution to supplying and later evacuating the men in Timor culminated in one of the great naval dramas of the war in that part of the world. HMAS Armidale at sea. Note the location of the aft Oerlikon gun situated behind the mainmast [3] The story started when the Castlemaine and Armidale left Darwin on 1 December 1942 to start the evacuation. Kuru had left earlier with orders to rendezvous at Betano. Lt-Cdr P.J. Sullivan, who was commanding Castlemaine, was the senior officer. Lt-Cdr D. H. Richards was in command of Armidale. It was hoped that the ships would complete the evacuation without being discovered, though the odds were slim given the enemy’s air and naval superiority. The morning after the two corvettes sailed, nightmare turned to reality when both ships were spotted by an enemy reconnaissance plane when they were still two hundred kilometres from their destination. The aircraft dropped several bombs, all of them missing, before heading back to Dili. Knowing the planes would be back, the corvettes changed course but were soon picked up by two formations of enemy aircraft, which immediately launched bombing and strafing attacks. Sullivan radioed for help and when several Beaufighters arrived from Darwin the enemy planes flew back to Dili. Neither ship had been damaged. These actions delayed the corvettes’ arrival in Betano. Kuru arrived at Betano and was boarded by about seventy Portuguese and Dutch evacuees, mainly women and children. Baffled by the non-appearance of the corvettes, however, Lt J.A. Grant – Kuru’s Commander – notified Darwin and left at 2 a.m. He was ordered to stay in the general area and to complete the evacuation the following night when the corvettes arrived. Kalgoorlie was sent from Darwin to lend support. Armidale sinking reference, Royal Australian Navy memorial globe, HMAS Shropshire Naval Memorial Park, Ulverstone, Tasmania Sullivan sailed into Betano Bay at 3.30 a.m. with Castlemaine and Armidale. When he saw that Kuru had left he turned the two ships about and headed south at full speed. By daybreak they were 120 kilometres off Timor – where they rendezvoused with Kuru. Castlemaine took aboard the refugees and headed for Darwin leaving Kuru and Armidale to return to Timor to pick up the rest of the refugees. The Japanese meanwhile had spent the night preparing their attack against the three ships. Every available aircraft was loaded with bombs and two cruisers were sent racing to the area. Armidale and Kuru split up but by midday both ships had been spotted by searching aircraft. Armidale opened fire with every gun she had as enemy planes dived on her, releasing bombs and torpedoes and strafing her with machine gun fire. Her gunners shot down a bomber and fighter but she received direct hits from two torpedoes. Armidale rolled over and sank with Ordinary Seaman E. Sheean strapped to his Oerlikon gun, still firing at diving planes. Sheean, who had shot down the bomber, was posthumously Mentioned in Dispatches. [4] Left: Ordinary Seaman Edward 'Teddy' Sheean. Right: Painting depicting Teddy Sheean strapped to Armidale's aft Oerlikon anti-aircraft gun firing at Japanese bombers. [5] Among those on board were the crew of eighty-three, three AIF men, two Dutch army officers and sixty-one of their Indonesian soldiers. The engineer officer, nine ratings and thirty-seven Dutch East Indies troops went down with the ship. The ship’s lifeboat was freed but those who reached it were machine gunned by the Japanese aircraft. Only a handful survived; they were left in the water clinging to whatever they could find. In Timor, nobody knew of the attacks on the corvettes. The major concern for the Australians was that the Dutch reinforcements had not arrived, meaning that their front line had some serious gaps. The remaining Dutch and Portuguese who were to be evacuated were still in Betano though this was not seen as a serious problem – they could always be taken off with the 2/2nd in phase two of the evacuation. The various 2/2nd platoons began moving towards the beach head, without their packs, while the 2/4th settled in to the areas they were to defend. Kuru meanwhile had become the centre of attention for other enemy aircraft which were harassing her mercilessly. Grant, the commander, evaded the attacks by lying on his back on the deck from where he could see the diving aircraft, and shouting “hard port” or “hard starboard” to the helmsman. Kuru zigzagged first one way then the other making it impossible for the pilots to get a bead on her. Bombs, torpedoes and bullets boiled the sea but Kuru evaded all of them, twisting, turning and circling like a gazelle with a lion on its tail. Armidale track [6] The attack lasted seven hours, in which time forty-four aircraft dropped two hundred bombs, every one of them missing their mark. When night fell, Kuru was ordered to return to Australia. The little ship metaphorically shook herself, turned about, and majestically headed south. This pocket compass was used by Lieutenant Lloyd Palmer to navigate ‘Armidale's’ whaler toward the Australian coast. [7] The Armidale survivors spent the next twenty-four hours in the water, helping the wounded and cobbling together a raft out of two floats and pieces of wreckage. Nearby was the ship’s submerged whaler. When the raft was finished, some scrambled onto it. Lt-Cdr Richards crammed twenty men into a disabled, five-metre lifeboat and set a course for Darwin, 450 kilometres away. They were picked up four days later by Kalgoorlie. Two men had died on the voyage and another two perished before reaching port. Meanwhile, those who took to the raft soon found themselves being circled by sharks. They kept themselves alive with one sip of water a day and a teaspoon of bully beef. On the third day, they managed to work the raft under the stern of the submerged whaler, lifting it high enough from the water for it to be baled with tin hats. It was then partially repaired by stuffing canvas into holes in the vessel’s sides. With the situation becoming more desperate by the hour, a gunnery officer decided to make an attempt to reach Darwin in the whaler, taking twenty-five ratings and three Australian soldiers. His reasoning was that the closer they could get to the coast, the better the chance of being spotted from the air by an Australian aircraft. The twenty-eight were selected and the overloaded whaler slowly pulled away, leaving twenty-eight of the ship’s company and twenty-one Dutch native troops clinging to the raft under the command of Sub-Lt J.R. Buckland RANVR. Those in the whaler had five dinghy oars, one whaler oar and a boat hook stave. There was no rudder, no sails and their only navigation aid was a pocket compass. They rowed in four watches, half an hour rowing and one- and-a-half hours resting. On their second day, the twenty-nine men shared a 340-gram tin of bully beef. The rainstorms which usually lashed the area at that time of the year did not appear, leaving them without water. Some of the men became delirious. One week after their ship was sunk they ate the last of their bully beef. Later in the day a rain squall appeared enabling them to catch a little water. Hours later they were found by a Catalina that circled low and dropped a note, saying that the raft had been found and that they had dropped them all their food. A ship would be sent to rescue those on the raft and in the whaler. Next day the whaler was found by Kalgoorlie. The men had rowed 230 kilometres in three days. HMAS Vigilant, under Sub-Lt Bennett, was sent out to find the raft party. By this time the area was being patrolled by enemy cruisers, submarines and aircraft. Nevertheless, Vigilant spent five days searching until the ship developed engine trouble and had to return. Neither the raft nor the fifty survivors were seen again. A total of ninety-eight of the 149 men on Armidale had died. A Catalina flying boat was despatched from Cairns to pick up these survivors. She reached the area on the afternoon of 8 December 1942. One of the Catalina aircrew took this picture however, the aircraft was unable to land because of the rough sea state. Despite exhaustive air and sea searches and the rescuing of other survivors, these pictured survivors were never seen again after the Catalina departed from the area. [8] REFERENCES [1] See for example, ‘Last Post Ceremony: 75th anniversary of the sinking of the HMAS Armidale’ | The Australian War Memorial https://www.awm.gov.au/visit/events/lpc-armidale [2] Cyril Ayris. - All the Bull's men: no. 2 Australian Independent Company (2/2nd Commando Squadron). – Perth: 2/2nd Commando Association, c2006: Chapter 40 ‘Emotional farewell’ pp.366-370. [3] HMAS Armidale (I) http://www.navy.gov.au/hmas-armidale-i [4] There is an ongoing campaign to get Teddy Sheean awarded a posthumous VC; see, for example, Tom Lewis. - Honour denied Teddy Sheean, a Tasmanian Hero ... and other brave warriors of the Royal Australian Navy. – Kent Town, SA: Avonmore Books, 2016. [5] AWM ART28160 by Dale Marsh https://www.awm.gov.au/collection/C172710?image=1 [6] HMAS Armidale (I) http://www.navy.gov.au/hmas-armidale-i [7] AWM REL/04501 https://www.awm.gov.au/collection/C110553

Latest developments in negotiations: http://www.sbs.com.au/news/article/2017/10/15/australia-timor-leste-draw-maritime-borders-draft-treaty-bring-end-oil-and-gas