GB-HURL

Brigadier General Patrick J. Hurley’s

Mission to JAVA to Expedite Blockade Runner Ships to the Philippines

February 1942

by

Lt/Col Bobb B. Glenn

Brig/Gen Patrick J. Hurley

Patrick J. Hurley was an attorney by profession, and a statesman who had served as Secretary of War in Herbert Hoover' s cabinet. During World War II, President Roosevelt made him his special representative for a number of assignments. Some of these were military and some were diplomatic. Hurley carried these out with energy and fearlessness. At age 59 he was recalled to active duty and given the rank of Brigadier General.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Over the years my three children, Jillian, Bruce and Jennifer encouraged me to tell them my so called "War Stories." This inspired me to produce this particular story in written form. Hopefully, it will be of as much interest to future generations as it is to present day family members.

I would like to thank my Australian wife Jean for her valuable assistance as proof reader and first line critic.

Special thanks goes to my son Bruce for the many hours spent in editing and typing this manuscript. His work with his computer helped transform a very rough copy into the account that follows.

Handwritten notes were made at the time of the events. After my return to Melbourne in March 1942, these notes were transcribed into diary form. The present narrative is based on this.

Bobb B. Glenn

2nd Lt. Bobb B. Glenn

FOREWORD

By January, 1942 our forces in the Philippines, had been compressed into the Bataan Peninsula, and the Manila Bay island of Corregidor. Severe shortages were beginning to develop in a number of areas. These included food, gasoline, ammunition (especially .50 cal), and medical supplies. Some medical supplies and ammunition had been delivered by submarine. Surface vessels, however, were needed to transport the required tonnage of food and gasoline.

Much has been written about why more stocks of food were not placed on Bataan before the withdrawal to that area. Ample food stocks were available in the Philippines at that time. The best explanation that I have heard was that the withdrawal to Bataan was a last minute decision. The original plan was to hold the enemy at the beaches and supplies were stocked accordingly. When the enemy overran our beach defenses the withdrawal was so rapid that time was not available to stock Bataan with adequate supplies and equipment.

The gasoline shortage is a little more obscure. After the loss of our air capability, the only thing holding back the enemy infantry was our artillery and a few remaining tanks. After every combat use, it was necessary to move them to alternate positions to shelter them from the retaliatory fire of enemy artillery or uncontested air bombardment. To do this required gasoline. Also, to safeguard the location of combat units, kitchens were placed behind the lines and ration deliveries made to front line units. All horses and mules had been consumed as food, so it was necessary to use trucks for this purpose. This further depleted gasoline stocks.

The Pensacola convoy, originally bound for the Philippines, had, after Pearl Harbor and the declaration of war, been diverted to Australia. Aircraft from the convoy were unloaded in Australia to be assembled there and ferried to the Philippines. Delays occurred when all of the parts to make the planes operational could not be found. When MacArthur began losing his airfields, this plan was abandoned.

Starting in January, 1942, attempts were made to charter small ships to carry food and other supplies to MacArthur through the blockade that the enemy had around the Philippines. The ships were being chartered in Australia and outfitted and loaded by the Quartermaster of the American Base Section in Brisbane (l). Routing orders for these ships were issued by Headquarters, United States Army Forces, Melbourne, and carried to U. S. Naval HQ Brisbane by safe hand air courier. Also the American, Colonel John A. Robenson with a small group of men, was sent from Darwin to Java to charter ships from that area. Authorization for any expense was pre-approved by the War Department.

Because of the deteriorating situation in the Philippines, the people in the War Department looked for a person with enough energy and high level experience to lend the emphasis to the blockade runner activities that the tactical situation called for. They found such a man in Patrick J. Hurley. Asked to take the job by President Roosevelt, he was, for the record, made the personal representative of General G. C. Marshall, the Chief of Staff. His stated orders were to cooperate with the Commanding General U.S. Army Forces in Australia in expediting measures for the organization and dispatch of supplies to General MacArthur's command in the Philippines.

Hurley, who held the rank of Colonel in the reserves, was recommended for Brigadier General when he was recalled to active duty. He left for the South West Pacific immediately, arriving in Australia early in February, 1942 (2).

Hurley went to work at once expediting the work of ship chartering and inducing ship's captains and crews to make the journey (3). Some of the ships were to leave from Java. While Hurley was still in Melbourne, he received word that for some unexplained reason, General Wavell's headquarters in Java had refused permission for the contracted ships there to be used as blockade runners (4). Hurley, at once, decided to go to Wavell's headquarters personally and do whatever was necessary to get the ships released.

My personal involvement with Hurley dates from my assignment as his aide on 12 February until he left Australia in April to assume his duties as Minister to New Zealand. The diary account that follows is the story of my assignment as aide to General Hurley for his trip to General Wavell's HQ in Java and return to southern Australia. This account was prepared from notes made at the time and is believed to be factual in every respect. Several previously published inaccuracies and omissions are clarified. The first of these is the story of our plane being attacked by enemy fighters when we were returning from Java to Australia (5). Another was the details of how and where Hurley was wounded during the 19 February, 1942 air raid on Darwin (6). The reader may also be interested in the story of our overland trip, from Darwin to Katherine, after the second raid (7 ). Of little or no military significance, it nevertheless gives a picture of conditions in the Northern Territory during the early war years. To the best of my knowledge, this portion of Hurley's trip has never been written about by any other author.

Early in my assignment, Hurley established a relationship between the two of us that was more of traveling companions than General and Lieutenant. Hurley loved to talk, and I enjoyed listening to a man of his national political experience. Even after I returned to my regular assignment as aide to General Barnes, I would see Hurley from time to time, and he would always confide in me his feelings about whatever was going on at the time. Because of the familiarity between us, I believe I was in a position to accurately relate his thoughts and feelings during this brief period of his career that I was privileged to serve him.

Bobb B. Glenn

Lt. Col. USAR Retired

June 1994

What follows is my Part in General Patrick Hurley's Mission to Expedite Supplies to the Philippines: From Melbourne to General Wavell's headquarters in Java, the Bombing of Darwin and our Escape.

The Diary of Lt. Bobb b. Glenn, Aide-de-camp.

9 February 1942

Allied forces in the Philippines are compressed into the Southern half of the Bataan Peninsula and Corregidor.

The Japanese continue their advance down the Malay Peninsula toward Singapore.

Vice Admiral Kondo, Southern Area Fleet Commander issues final orders for the bombing of Darwin, Australia.

* * *

Royal Albert Park Apartments

Queens Road, Melbourne, Australia

It has been one month to the day since I brought the convoy of cars from our former headquarters in Brisbane to Melbourne, a journey of more than four days down the eastern coast of Australia. Commanding that convoy was the last official act I performed as aide to Lt. General George Howard Brett. In the fast-paced period that characterized those first few months of the Pacific War, Washington ordered Brett to Java as Deputy to British Field Marshall Sir Archibald Wavell even before I arrived in Melbourne. As it turned out, I spent the first month in Melbourne as aide to Major General Julian Frances Barnes, the new commanding officer of United States Army Forces in Australia. Barnes had selected me as his future aide last December when I was working in the Signal Office at the Brisbane headquarters. Now I had the opportunity to serve him.

12 February 1942

The Japanese pour across the causeway between Jahore and Singapore. Java is bombed on a daily basis.

* * *

Office of the Commanding General, USAFIA

St. Kilda Road, Melbourne, Australia

Brigadier General Patrick J. Hurley's arrival at our headquarters did not surprise men I had known he was coming even before Barnes knew because the official copy of his orders was placed by the Signal Officer upon my desk. As the General's Aide, one of my most important duties was to screen all messages coming in or going out of headquarters. Thus, I already knew that Hurley had been sent by the Chief of Staff in Washington, General Marshall, on a special mission to speed the critical flow of supplies to MacArthur's forces holding out on Bataan and Corregidor. Hurley was well known in Washington political circles. A Secretary of War in the Hoover administration, he had remained active in national politics. My uncle, Arthur Hyde, had been Secretary of Agriculture in the same cabinet, but until today I had not had the pleasure of meeting Hurley. Tall (almost six feet, four inches), and with a handle-bar mustache, Hurley was an imposing figure. He also had a friendly manner and an air of confidence about him.

To my surprise, General Barnes tells me he is loaning me to Hurley. My orders are to accompany Hurley as his aide. We are to fly to the Netherlands East Indies on a special mission. Our plan is to leave for the airfield at 6 p.m. I hurriedly brief another officer in my routine duties for General Barnes and "draw" a 45 caliber pistol. A quick trip to my quarters for a few personal items, and I am ready to go. It is not until 8:30 p.m., however, that our plane, a Douglas army transport, lifts into the air from Melbourne's Laverton Airfield. I am suddenly aware that in our rush to the airport, we have missed supper.

What will it be like to be aide to General Hurley? My experience as aide to two other generals had only shown me that aide assignments can vary from one general to another.

With General Brett we were in a fast-moving situation and I carried out assignments with very little contact or supervision. Brett's style at the time was to go over carefully with me what he wanted done and then turn me loose to do it on my own. This was especially true of my assignment to take the convoy of staff cars across Australia.

With Barnes I was in more direct contact with the General on a daily basis. He had me assist him in much of the routine of his office. My daily screening of all of the messages in and out of the Headquarters was an example of this. He kept me informed of his concerns and what he considered unimportant so I would know which matters he wanted called to his attention. In a sense this was in some cases a duplication of what came to him through his Chief of Staff. It was, however, a double check that the General felt comfortable with. When the General made an inspection trip, he always had me by his side. I would act as secretary, making notes of things that came to his mind that he wanted action taken on later. During the period he was sick and confined to his quarters, I was his messenger to his Headquarters. I also, at this time, took care of a number of personal errands and contacts of which he was not capable.

My prior experience had taught me to expect anything and everything. By the time I was assigned to Hurley, our transportation out of Melbourne had been arranged for. I no doubt would have many further arrangements to make along the way. Since a great deal of our time would be spent in traveling, I assumed I would be a sort of a traveling companion, helping with whatever problem came up.

February means it is summertime here "downunder" and so a dusky light lingers in the sky at the beginning of our journey. The flight is uneventful, and we arrive at the outskirts of Sydney some time after 10 p.m. Sydney's Mascot field is located somewhere in the midst of this city of some two million. I am sitting in the co-pilot's seat as we circle the city, and I begin to speculate, along with the American pilot, as to where the field might be among all those thousands of shielded lights down below. Sydney is under a wartime "brownout," which means lights are shielded but not extinguished. Many are visible, especially at a low altitude. The procedure, he tells me, is to make a good guess and then go down low enough to tell if you are right or not. We find what must be the field, but in the pilot's opinion it appears to be just a shade small for our plane's size, and we hold our breath until the plane is safely on the ground. The Australian military officer on duty is impressed at welcoming an American general, and several rounds of drinks are on the house. I am just finishing my second beer when the car arrives to take us into the city. I get us checked into the plush Australia Hotel for the night.

13 February 1942

The Japanese bomb Cabcaben bario and refugee camp on Bataan. Forty-eight civilians are killed and over one hundred burned or injured.

* * *

Mascot Field, Sydney, Australia

Our wake-up call fails, and we leave for the airport without any breakfast. The cookies I hurriedly bought as I was leaving the hotel are passed around to provide a poor substitute for a proper breakfast. Several Australian flying cadets are practicing landings of their Gypsy Moths and provide us with something to look at while our plane is being serviced and checked. Finally at 8:30 a.m. we are in the air and on our way to Brisbane. Fifty minutes out of Sydney our right engine begins to smoke. We all notice it and soon a small red flame flickers out from the engine. The co-pilot comes back to the passenger and cargo area and tells us we are turning around and will fly on one engine to the big Royal Australian Air Force depot at Richmond, about forty miles from Sydney. He adds that just prior to landing, the smoking engine will be restarted, observing that it's "better to burn out one engine than lose the entire plane." We approach the landing field, trailing smoke, but the pilot makes a safe landing. The trouble turns out to be nothing more than a blown-out spark plug and can be replaced but it will take about three hours. As we have missed breakfast, our thoughts turn to an early lunch. We head for the local Officers Mess and they serve us a simple, but adequate lunch while our plane is repaired and checked again. We are airborne again at 1:30 p.m. and without further trouble, arrive at Amberley field, Brisbane about 5:30 p.m. The local base section commander, Col. A.L.P. Johnston, is at the airfield waiting for us to arrive. During the ride from the airfield, I start to pick out some of the familiar landmarks I recognize from my days here last December. I am delighted to see Col. Johnston has arranged for us to spend the night at Lennon's Hotel where I lived and worked in the headquarters Signal Section. As I knew we would, we have an excellent dinner and a good night's rest. Lennon's, a new multi story hotel, was built in the modern, plain style.

14 February 1942

Japanese begin landing on Sumatra, the island northwest of Java.

* * *

Aboard a Douglas Army Transport Plane Over Queensland, Australia

With a long flight to Darwin ahead of us, we are out at Amberley Field early. We takeoff at 6:45 a.m. Soon it becomes apparent to me that we have left the coastal area of Australia behind us as we head out over the vast, undeveloped center of Australia. The land goes on and on and much of it begins to look the same from the air. The long flight grows monotonous. Hurley has tired of talking and has dozed off. I start to watch the crap game in progress on the floor of the center aisle. The co-pilot has just crapped out and is passing the dice to the pilot. "Who," I ask, "is flying the plane if both of you are in this crap game?" "It's on automatic," replies the pilot as he throws the dice. Would you like to fly it?"

In a flash I realize that the pilot either thinks that I am pilot, which I am not, or, that a pair of eyes in the cockpit would be better than an unattended automatic pilot. True we are now flying over an isolated part of Australia, and the chances of a mid-air collision seem almost nil. It is startling, however, to think that the lives of one of our Generals plus eight or ten other ranks would be entrusted to an unattended automatic pilot or a non-pilot such as myself. In the end, the temptation to control a two-engine plane in flight is too much, and I accept at once. I test the controls to get the feel of the plane. My only comparison occurred back home when a friend let me fly his little single engine, two-cockpit biplane, for a few minutes while airborne. I am surprised at how easily the big plane handles. I conclude that the C47 (military version of the Douglas DC3) is a good aircraft. I continue flying using controls necessary to keep us on our assigned course. Two hours later the pilot returns and takes over. One fuel stop is necessary on this long flight and this gives passengers a chance to walk around and stretch their legs. We stop at the small Western Queensland town of Concurry. A small Australian military unit is running the airstrip. They are not prepared to feed us but send a soldier Into town in a jeep to get us some food. He comes back with cold mutton sandwiches and lemonade. The sun is out full force in the Australian summer, and the heat and flies are almost unbearable. I decide cold sandwiches are better than a hot meal after all. We are glad to get back into the air.

Hours later, at about 5:30 p.m., we get our first view of Darwin Harbor in the distance. On our landing approach, I count thirteen American and Australian ships in the harbor. I remember thinking almost absentmindedly what a good target they would make. Colonel Frank La Rue, the army's base section commander for Darwin, is waiting for us at the Royal Australian Air Force field. We ride with La Rue in his car to the Hotel Darwin on the Esplanade that faces the outer harbor and the Timor Sea. This brand new, two-story hotel I learn is the pride of the small community of Darwin. It is quite pleasant and situated beautifully with its fine view of the water. We know we won't be spending tonight here. Our plans are to have dinner and a short rest in the evening, as we leave for Java later tonight.

Dinner is rushed as Hurley wants to visit the docks while there is still light. There is a lot of activity at the docks because a convoy is being formed with orders to sail to Koepang in a last ditch effort to reinforce Timor. The convoy is to include detachments of Australian troops and U.S. artillery on four transports. The escort will be the cruiser U. S. S. Houston, the destroyer U.S.S. Peary, and two Australian Navy sloops. They are expected to leave around midnight tomorrow night. Men and equipment are being loaded onto the transports. The one ship Hurley decides to go on is the cruiser Houston. Captain Rocks meets us at the gangway and shows us over his ship. He is concerned about one of his gun turrets that has been put out of action in a recent engagement. We look at the twisted metal, and while it is not completely destroyed, it looks beyond local repair.

On our way back to the hotel we see a sailor limping along toward the docks. Hurley has the driver stop the car so he can ask the sailor where he is going in his present condition. The sailor replies that he has been in the hospital but on finding out that his ship is leaving he got up and walked out so he could sail with his buddies. He said his ship was the Houston. (History will show that the Houston was sunk in the next few days in the Battle of the Java Sea).

Back at the hotel, Hurley manages to sleep for an hour while I organize our luggage and make final arrangements for leaving. An hour later, at 11:45 p.m., we climb into an LB30 Liberator heavy bomber, wave good-bye to La Rue, and head out into the darkness over the Timor Sea.

15 February 1942

The Timor replacement convoy leaves Darwin around midnight. The Japanese carry out intensive bombing of Corregidor.

A Japanese task force of four carriers, two battleships, three heavy cruisers, and twelve destroyers leaves Palau and moves southward through the Molucca Passage in the Arafura Sea, north of Australia.

Singapore falls to the Japanese. General Arthur Percival surrenders some 130,000 men.

* * *

In the nose compartment of an LB30 Bomber over the Timor Sea.

B 24 Liberator heavy bomber

The one that I flew in from Darwin to Java and return was a modification known as the LB 30. It was one of 139 Liberators ordered by the British in 1941. After Pearl Harbor the undelivered 51 were taken over by the U. S. military. These were known as the LB 30. [Unlike the regular B 24 pictured, our LB 30 did not have as many guns and the interior was designed to accommodate more personnel.

Because I must make sure that the luggage gets on, I am the last to board the plane. By this time, the main entrance has been closed, so one of the ground crew directs me up into the nose compartment. This is the place where the bomb sights and the bomb release equipment are kept. In front and to the sides are wide windows from which I can see the engines. Behind and below is the nose-wheel well with the wheel retracted up into the fuselage. Because of my last minute entrance into the plane, I have not been shown how to get back to the main cabin and there are no lights or directions. It is beginning to get cold, and I make an attempt to find my way back to get some blankets. I get tangled up in some control wires and think it best to turn back. There must be some simple way to get back but in the darkness I cannot find it. My cool cotton uniform is not enough clothing for a night flight at cruising altitude. Also my legs are starting to become cramped, and I feel a very strong desire to stretch out at full length. I see someone's barracks bag that can be used for a pillow. I curl around the retracted nose wheel and pull my raincoat over me for a blanket as I prepare to go to sleep. I know our estimated time of arrival so I set the "alarm clock" in my brain for one hour before the pilot will open the floor out from under me for the landing.

I do, in fact, get some sleep and wake up on schedule just a few minutes before dawn. We are at a lower altitude, and it is not so cold. I can make out the water below me so I know we are still over the Timor Sea. I have one of the sandwiches I brought aboard the night before. It is dry and made out of stale army bread, but I find it delicious, nevertheless. It is now starting to grow light, and this makes me feel better. I am now crouched before the big front windows watching for the first sight of land. Soon, I see one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. Java has been called the "Green Gem of the Pacific" and now I understand why. From my vantage point in the nose I take in every detail as we fly lower and lower toward our destination. Now that it is light I easily find my way back to the main cabin. Hurley greets me with the not-too-exciting news that the navigator has made an error and we are twenty-five miles off course. He tells me we will be a few minutes late in landing in Malang. If I had known, I thought to myself, I could have had a few minutes longer sleep.

At 6:30 a.m. we land at the military airfield near Malang. This is my first trip to a forward area that is being bombed on a daily basis and I am shocked at what I see. Everywhere I look I see another of our wrecked aircraft. The serviceable ones are either protected in revetments or have wooden coverings over them to resemble shacks. Colonel Eubank, the 7th [& 19th] [Col Eubank had been and still was in command of the 19th BG on Clark Field, Philippines. The 7th BG had orders, and some were on their way to “Plum” Del Monte Field Mindanao on Dec 7 1941. Orders were re-cut, routing those they could to Java. Most of the 7th BG flight crews were merged into the 19th BG, and fell back to Australia with them. Later some reform a 7th BG and went to India. DL 06-06-94] Bomb Group commander, is at the airfield to meet us. He drives us into town to his house for breakfast. The town of Malang is very clean and fresh looking and the colonel has acquired one of the better places to serve as his house and headquarters. Breakfast is very lavish and features a lot of fresh fruit. I enjoy it more than any meal that I have had since leaving Melbourne. Eubank looks at his watch and casually remarks that we had better leave the field by eight as he is expecting a raid by nine. We take his advice, and our meal comes to an abrupt end. We are in the air on our way to Bandoeng by a few minutes after eight.

In the air I have my first chance to get acquainted with our pilot and crew. Our pilot is Lt. Kelsay who only arrived in Malang the 26th of last month. Kelsay, a young Lt. like myself has already seen plenty of action with the 7th Bomb Group.

Our rear gunner becomes sick, and I volunteer to take his place. In this exposed position I have a very good view of the country we are flying over. I see several smoking volcanoes and numerous terraced rice fields. The coloring is a mixture of every conceivable shade of green. By noon we have made it to Bandoeng without incident. The approach is a beautiful sight. Out of the sea of tropical green, the immaculate white houses with red tile roofs make a vivid contrast. On the ground, I find spotless streets and a simple, industrious, happy people. I do not see any evidence of poverty.

We go at once to the Savoy Hotel where Generals Brett and Brereton are waiting for us. I needed no introduction to Brett as I had been his aide during the preceding month. He greeted me in his quiet, friendly manner. As a Lt. General, he is Deputy Commander in Chief of Wavell's ABDA command. This was the first time that I had met Major General Brereton. An energetic little man, he made a marked contrast with the tall, deliberate Hurley. Brereton had been air officer in the Philippines on December 8 when most of MacArthur's air power had been destroyed on the ground at Clark Field. Now he is in command of Wavell's air arm at the ABDA command. As they and Hurley have a quick conference, I have a chance to look at the hotel and make arrangements for our rooms. This is a large, multistory big-city hotel. Even so, it has blended in with its tropical surroundings by the use of plants and vegetation in its interior decoration. As I am talking to the clerk at the front desk, the air raid warning sounds. No planes appear and we soon get the all clear. Next we have a very fine ten-course lunch, served in the Javanese style. This means that you are supplied with rice and then ten waiters pass by you for you to choose from their platters. We are offered various kinds of meat and chicken cooked in sauces, fish and shellfish, curries, and cooked vegetables. General Brett advises us to be selective and only choose a few items of compatible flavors at each meal.

During lunch, talk turns to the critical position that Java is in. Brereton for one is already looking for his next base of operations when Java falls. (We do not know it at the time but this turns out to be India). After lunch, Brett suddenly decides that instead of staying here we should go up to the headquarters at Lembang. We leave in such a hurry that I do not have time to pay for the ten-course lunch or the rooms.

Lembang is about twelve miles up into the mountains. The drive is pleasant and cool enough that we have the car heater on before we arrive. The Hotel Montagne is a small resort hotel that has been taken over by the military. The hotel is a single story rambling complex to conform to the informality of a recreation resort. A main building houses the lobby, dining room, bar, and meeting rooms. Sleeping rooms are grouped in separate buildings to take advantage of the magnificent mountain views. We have time to get settled in before dinner. As at the Savoy, the meal is served in the Javanese fashion. General Wavell and his staff dine here so the atmosphere is exclusively military. Before we eat, we stand while a loud speaker blares out, one after another, the national anthems of Java (our host country), The Netherlands, England, Australia, the United States, and finally Nationalist China. This evening I have time to visit with several of my Lt. friends who are stationed here.

I learn that the Dutch have an excellent intercontinental communication facility nearby in the Bandoeng hills. Probably, this was one reason for choosing this area as the headquarters site. Java is heavily populated with almost 40 million people. I now learn that it is also a land of rain forests, swamps, jungles, and more volcanoes than anywhere else in the world. My bed tonight is hard and not very comfortable, but nevertheless I have a wonderful sleep.

16 February 1942

The bombing of Bataan intensifies. Both Bataan and Cabcaben Fields are hit.

The Timor reinforcement convoy is attacked by 35 enemy bombers and 9 flying boats. None of our ships are sunk but the lack of air support causes Wavell to order the convoy back to Darwin.

* * *

Hotel Montagne Lembang, Java

This morning I feel refreshed after a good night's sleep. I step out of my room and see a most beautiful view. My room faces away from the street and from it I can see the nearby volcano in a natural setting of trees and small native huts. After breakfast, I walk to headquarters. Getting into Wavell's headquarters turns out to be a startling experience. A group of four Javanese guards at the gate raise their loaded rifles and point them directly at me as I approach. I quickly hand one of them my simple, hand-written pass and await their reaction. My pass goes from one to the other as each one studies it carefully. They exchange a few words in their language. Suddenly, they smile, my pass is handed back, and I am waved into the headquarters. I talk a Dutch Transportation Lt. into loaning me a car so I can drive into Bandoeng to do some shopping. I am warned about the amount of foot traffic along the roads and the mounting tension with the native population. "Try not to hit anyone, but if you do just keep on going," is the current advice being given. I get into town without mishap and find a number of well-stocked stores. Much of the merchandise is from China and other parts of the East. I buy a set of carved Javanese Heads, an ivory "Canton Ball," and a carved Chinese figure. Most of the merchandise in the stores is handmade rather than manufactured. I stop for coffee and am amazed at the beautifully decorated pastries available. All are lavishly done by hand.

I am back at headquarters in time to have lunch. Hurley is having lunch with Wavell and is kind enough to have me included. This afternoon, Hurley has me sit in on a conference he has with Brereton. I am expecting something about the blockade runner ships, but they are not mentioned. Brereton relates how Sumatra and Bali on each side of us have just fallen. He predicts Java will be next. His long range bombers need to be moved farther from the front, and he is thinking of India. In passing I see Vice Admiral Conrad Helfrick, the Naval Commander, and several other high-ranking Dutch officers. When off duty, the officers frequently congregate in the bar at the hotel. The favorite drink is beer or the Dutch standby, Rots gin.

17 Feb. 1942

The Japanese carrier force reaches the Timor Sea, immediately north of Australia.

* * *

HQ of General Sir Archibald Wavell

ABDA Command, Lembang, Java

After breakfast, Hurley informs me that Wavell has agreed to release the ships and that we will be leaving later today. I am filled with mixed emotions. I will be sorry to leave this beautiful, interesting place, but with the deteriorating war situation I realize we should get back to Australia now that our mission has been completed. There is time for one last drive to town before lunch, courtesy of my new friend, the Dutch Transportation Lt. After an early lunch at the hotel, I busy myself with our luggage, paying bills and saying goodbyes. The hotel manager is trying to tell me something, but it is hard to understand because of his accent. In a few moments I begin to understand. The word about the fall of Singapore has filtered down to him, and he, with reason, is agitated. No doubt he is calculating how many days it will be before it will be Java's turn.

General Brereton leaves with us as he needs to go to Malang to conduct an awards ceremony. We leave in our Liberator shortly after noon. Along the way, we run into one of those tropical storms that make Java such a green place. It was unpleasant and rainy all the way into Malang. As we land, sprays of water come up into the plane through the bomb-bay area.

The rain has let up for the moment but the field is wet and very slick. The awards ceremony for some of the pilots is taking place in one of the hangers. Out of the open hanger door, we see a flight of bombers returning from their mission. We witness one slip off the runway. Most make it but with difficulty. Eubank is naturally more interested in seeing if his planes get safely on the ground than he is in what Brereton and Hurley are saying. He keeps inching closer to the open door. Hurley is the last to speak. He is part American Indian and always ends his speeches with the "Choctaw" war cry. Today he outdoes himself in volume and intensity. The already nervous Eubank turns white as a sheet and visibly stiffens.

After the ceremony, we all go to the nearby Palace Hotel for a drink. Col. Robenson, who has come down from Surabaya to meet with Hurley, joins us. Robenson had been Base Section Commander in Darwin prior to La Rue. He has been in Surabaya assisting with the blockade runner ships that are trying to reach the Philippines. His meeting with Hurley, therefore, is all part of the mission. I was not privy to what was discussed.

Before leaving the Palace Hotel, we are briefed by Eubank's Intelligence Officer. "It doesn't look good," is his first remark. "The Timor reinforcement convoy has been bombed, it has turned around and is now on its way back to Darwin. Of most concern to you people, however, is that we have spotted an enemy carrier force in the Timor Sea between here and Australia. Not sure of the size," he continues. "Probably two carriers plus supporting ships." Hurley wants to leave as soon as possible and try to get past them under cover of darkness. It is already too late for a daylight takeoff so this would mean not only a night flight but a night takeoff as well. Eubank interrupts to say that under the circumstances he cannot possibly allow a night takeoff from his field. He goes on to explain that the morning raid has left him with a large bomb crater in his runway that he has been unable to get repaired. If our plane hit this crater in the dark and crashed, it could make the runway unusable for his bombers. He feels the risk would be too great at night. We quickly decide that our only option is to stay all night at the Hotel Splendid, near the airfield, get up early, and be at the airfield before dawn so we can leave at first light. Accordingly we all turn in early so we will be ready for whatever tomorrow holds for us. No longer in the cool mountains, we know it will be difficult to sleep. This is a low coastal area, where it is hot and humid. I am given a "native wife" to help me sleep. The so-called native wife is a long, cloth stuffed cylinder that is taken to bed. Its purpose is to keep the mosquito netting from closing in around you and further restricting the flow of air. Somehow I manage to get a couple of hours of sleep.

This small resort hotel was in the mountains about 12 miles from Bandoeng, Java. It was taken over by General Wavell' s ABDA (American, British, Dutch, Australian) command. It was used to house members of his allied staff.

18 February 1942

The Japanese carrier task force is steaming to launch position in the Timor Sea.

The Timor reinforcement convoy reenters the port of Darwin. The cruiser Houston and destroyer Peary refuel and head back north into the Timor Sea.

* * *

Hotel Splendid

Malang, Java

My alarm has me up at 4 a.m. I quickly dress and stagger out to the lobby. There I find that Eubank has sent one of his majors to drive Hurley and me to the field. The Major is slumped into a chair and grumpy at being made to get up this early. He refuses to help with any of the luggage; he is only there to drive us to the field. This doesn't bother me as I am capable of handling what luggage we have and have done so on several occasions. A good breakfast has been laid out for us but unfortunately I do not have the time or appetite to do it justice.

When we arrive at the airfield, we find Eubank already there, presumably to be sure that we don't fudge on the takeoff time. The pilot and co-pilot are walking the field, looking at the crater, and deciding how they will ease around it on the takeoff. The flight plan that has been filed is for us to fly due south until in sight of the coast of Australia and then northeast to Darwin. This will take us a lot longer than the direct route but the purpose is to give the carrier task force a wide berth. Hurley is pushing to leave right away now that we are all at the field. Eubank says we must wait until we can see the other end of the runway. The pilot finally convinces Eubank that he has gone over every foot of the runway, knows where the crater is, and that if we can see halfway down the field we will be able to see the other half when we get to the midpoint. Eubank gives in, and we get under way just before dawn. Puddles of water, from recent rains, are all over the field. As we thunder down the field, I see water splashing up all around us, including through the bomb bay doors. The American Colonel Warren J. Clear, who got out of Singapore before the fall, is sitting beside me and observes that with all this water we must look like the China Clipper taking off.

We are somehow in the air without crashing or slipping off the runway. On the long flight ahead of us, I am pressed into service as the left-side gunner. I am not a properly trained gunner but had an introduction to machine guns at the private military school I attended as a teenager. All of the gunners on the plane are equipped with throat mikes to be in contact with the pilot at all times. I request permission to fire a short burst to get the feel of the gun. All of us are tense for the entire flight. At any moment, we expect to be detected and jumped by enemy fighters. Luckily for us, we are undetected by the carrier task force and after a very long, tiring flight make it safely to Darwin late in the afternoon. La Rue is waiting for us to take us to the Hotel Darwin. My room is room #2, and after an early dinner, I retire early for what I hope will be a long, restful sleep.

19 February 1942

The destroyer Peary has used up fuel last night in a submarine chase and returns to Darwin in the early AM for additional fuel.

The Japanese carrier task force reaches launch position 350 kilometers NW of Darwin in the early morning.

At 9:58 a.m., 188 aircraft from the Japanese carrier task force attack Darwin. Primary targets are shipping and port facilities of Darwin Harbor. A secondary target is the town of Darwin.

At 11:57 a.m., 54 land-based aircraft from Kendari in the Celebes and Ambon on Ambon Island attack Darwin. The primary target is the RAAF base at Darwin.

* * *

Room #2 Hotel Darwin

The Esplanade, Darwin Australia

I dream of two long lanes of field guns drawn up facing each other. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, they go as they keep up a steady fire at each other. Suddenly I awake with a start realizing that at least the sound is real and not just in my dream. I am standing by my bed in my pajamas when there is a tremendous explosion outside my window in front of the hotel. The window shatters in front of me and glass and debris are flying through the room. Without thinking I rush to the broken window and look outside. My room faces the Esplanade in front of the hotel. There, I see an anti-aircraft battery across the park area 150 yards away. It is keeping up a steady, firing of BOOM, BOOM, BOOM. I can now see that the explosion that shattered my window was a near miss on the battery. The hotel is near enough to the battery to be in danger of being destroyed by a near miss. I grab my clothes on the bed and my 45cal. side arm and hurriedly dress as I rush down to the lobby.

Later, when Hurley has a chance to talk to me, he tells me that, as was his custom, he had been up early and was in back of the hotel getting some fresh air before breakfast. A handful of other people were also there for the same purpose. Always the politician, Hurley saw the opportunity for a speech. Gathering the small group around him, he started on a positive note by telling them about how help would be coming from the south. He was just telling them about the fleets of aircraft, from American forces in the south of Australia that would be transferred to Darwin, when everyone heard the sound of many aircraft engines. Looking up they saw a long line of aircraft coming from the south. What beautiful timing, thought Hurley, just as I'd promising them reinforcements, they arrive as if on cue. This calls for a cheer, Hurley told the group. Hat in hand, waving above his head, Hurley was leading the cheer when the bombs start to fall. Hurley said that if it had not been so tragic it would have been a good joke on him.

The explosion that shattered my window also picked up a large boulder and put it in a trajectory that carried it over the hotel. As Hurley and the others hurried into the hotel, the boulder crashed through an overhang and hit Hurley in the shoulder, knocking him to the ground. He was picked up and helped into the lobby.

From what I observed of Col. La Rue that day, he must have been up early, expecting another busy day. He must have been worried about the latest intelligence reports of enemy activity, and besides this he had a visiting General in town to take care of. Perhaps he stopped by his office first to see if any late reports had come in, and then his driver would have taken him to the Hotel Darwin to pick up the General and his aide and take them to the RAAF field. He would have been in his car, on the Esplanade near the hotel when the anti-aircraft battery opened up and the bombs started to fall. His car would have just stopped in front of the hotel when the explosion that awakened me occurred just the other side of the Esplanade. Without even speaking to his driver, he no doubt rushed into the lobby.

* * *

Three people enter the lobby at almost the same moment. I descend the stairs from the second floor. Hurley, with a bloody and bruised shoulder, is being helped along a corridor coming from the back door. La Rue, enters the front door. La Rue and I take care of Hurley by stopping the bleeding and stuffing some material into his shirt to serve as a temporary bandage. We load Hurley into La Rue's car and drive about four blocks from the hotel toward the inner harbor until we find a house built on stilts which has easy access underneath it. From this vantage point, we can at least stay hidden when enemy fighters come strafing past us. We emerge when we can to look across into the harbor. Some of the fighters come so low that I clearly make out the pilots in the cockpits. As they fly past, I jump out and fire my pistol at them. I don't, of course, hit anything, but it helps to be doing something. The bombers are coming over steadily and we can see them clearly. Shipping is getting most of their attention, especially those in the inner harbor.

The enemy planes leave and we stand in the middle of the street and look around. In front of me, it looks like the harbor is full of blazing ships. On my left, a huge column of smoke is rising from several oil storage tanks that have been set on fire. On my right, smoke is rising from the vicinity of the railroad yards. Behind me a huge column of smoke looks like it is coming from the RAAF field. I walk down to the water's edge. As I am standing there watching, the destroyer Peary and three other ships go under. Several other ships are burning and look like they could sink at any time. While I am still standing there, a ship that had been unloading explosives at the dock, blows up. This is the 6600 ton Neptuna, loaded with depth charges. The tremendous explosion seems to shake the town. A section of the dock is blown completely out of the water. Mud is brought up from the bottom and thrown into the air. Some of the explosives from the cargo must have been thrown into the air as they are exploding above the ship like a string of huge firecrackers. There are some men, survivors of ships, that are in the water swimming toward the shore. There are some patches of blazing oil that they must swim around. People are at the water's edge waiting to help them.

After a few minutes we decide that we should go back to the hotel, collect our things, and continue our journey south. We find that the hotel has not suffered a direct hit, but that all of the windows are shattered, and there is broken glass, rocks and debris everywhere. To me, it looks like the dining room has suffered the most damage. While Hurley and I are collecting our things, La Rue is calling the airfield to find out if our plane has been hit or not. La Rue reports that he was told that our plane has some damage to one of the engines, but otherwise is intact. Hurley thinks we should check out and go to the airfield in anticipation of the damage being fixable. I go to pay our bills and find that all of the hotel staff have left and have not yet returned. This makes yet another unpaid bill.

We load our luggage into La Rue's car and head for the airfield. Col. Warren J. Clear, who flew with us from Malang, is with us as he needs a ride south and Hurley has been good enough to let him join us. Hurley and Clear sit in the back seat. In the front are seated the driver, La Rue in the middle, and I am on the other side.

We are just out of the downtown area on our way to the airfield and a second raid is just starting. Without any warning, bombs are dropping and I begin to see bombers from the direction of the airfield. La Rue becomes very agitated. He wants out of the car so urgently that he and the driver scramble out while the car is still moving. I quickly slide over and guide us to a safe stop by the side of the road. We are near what appears to be an abandoned school. We go inside the school building which is now empty. Hurley is showing signs of tiring. I find a place under the stairs where he can lay down and he says it makes him feel better. Perhaps his shoulder is hurting him, but he does not admit it.

I go out into the school yard where some of the local residents are congregating. One man identifies himself as a university professor and is going around taking pulse rates. He says he is Interested in how different people react in wartime situations, and the pulse rate is a good indicator. A beautifully maintained formation of twenty-seven bombers are overhead. They are flying just above the anti-aircraft fire directed against them. I can plainly see the bursts exploding just below them. A young Australian man rides up on a bicycle and gives us a chuckle by exclaiming, "If those bloody Japs damage my bike there's going to be hell to pay." Unlike the first raid, I have not seen any fighters in this one. This second raid lasts about as long as the first.

Before continuing to the airfield, we take a few minutes to drive around the downtown area to look at the damage. Many of the buildings are badly damaged, some with only the walls standing. The American Headquarters is one of the few places that is still pretty much intact.

When we arrive at the airfield, we are shocked at the destruction we see. The Liberator bomber we left there yesterday afternoon is now four smoking engines laying on the ground with a twisted mass of framework strewn around behind them. The damage to the field and the other planes is so extensive that there is no thought of getting out by plane today. Hurley is able to get a better bandage for his shoulder, and the Officer's Mess comes up with some sandwiches for us.

Hurley is anxious to get under way as soon as possible and asks La Rue what the possibilities are. Someone at the field comes up with a map that shows that there is a so-called international highway from Darwin south to Alice Springs. La Rue says he really doesn't know anything about road conditions south of Adelaide River, which is about 50 miles. Hurler says that with a name like the International Highway and being shown on the map by a heavy line, there must be some kind of a road. He decides that we will try it.

A "Command Car" of the U.S. Army.

This type of vehicle was used by General Hurley and party to leave Darwin after the raids on 19 Feb. 1942. Specifications were: 1940 Dodge, 1/2 ton, 6 cyl, 56 mph, 12 mpg; 2 seater, high off ground; no doors, curved openings for easy exit; extra fuel in 5 gal drums in center of running board on one side and spare tire on the other; straps at door openings to hold passengers in; compartment in back for luggage.

At La Rue's motor pool, we are given what is known as a Command Car. It was designed for high ranking officers to ride around on a World War One type battlefield. It is a high clearance, 4x4 drive, all-terrain type vehicle, with a power winch on the front. It has two open seats with straps to hold occupants in. It has running boards, and on one side there is a 5 gallon can of extra fuel, and on the other side a spare tire. There is even a compartment in the rear for our luggage. All in all I liked the looks of it for roads of unknown condition. To top it off, it comes with a driver who can drive it back when we find better transportation and are finished with it.

Once our luggage is transferred we are away quickly with Hurley and Clear in the back seat and the driver and I in the front. On the way out of the business district we see several instances of looting. A few shop windows are being broken and items taken out. The looters I observe are mostly individuals, and I do not see any large groups or wholesale looting. Looters seem to be taking only what they can carry with them on foot. As we continue on the road to Adelaide River, we are driving past a steady stream of soldiers and civilians. They are mostly in small groups of two or three but there are also a number of individuals. There is no suggestion of a military formation and only a few have retained their arms. On the other hand, there is no suggestion of panic. They are simply walking out of Darwin. We arrive at Adelaide River and discover that a road block has been set up.

The stragglers are being stopped and processed back into service. We are allowed to proceed but cautioned that, at this time of year, the road south of Adelaide River could be impassable. Hurley wants to continue so we accept the challenge and decide to try it. We have not covered more than ten miles before we start having trouble. The road is becoming less well defined and we are encountering numerous mud holes and depressions. Some of these almost seem like quicksand. The power winch is something we are using more and more. The procedure is, everyone except the driver out, I grab the winch cable and find the nearest tree to secure it to, and then the driver engages the power and pulls the vehicle out of trouble. We all pile in and ride until we reach the next soft spot. It seems like these trouble spots are getting closer and closer together. Hurley is becoming concerned about what is happening and as we are preparing to pull out of our current hole, he tells me that he is walking up ahead to see if he can find some firmer ground. We are just out of this hole and out of the corner of my eye, I can see Hurley running back towards us. He comes up to us wild-eyed and shaking visibly. With some difficulty, he gets out that he has just seen a gigantic snake on the road just around the next bend. All at once, I remember reading about the pythons in northern Australia reaching up to 40 ft. in length. Could this be what Hurley had seen? About 100 yards down the road our lights pick it up. It is every bit as big as Hurley has represented it. The head is raised above a small clump of bushes on one side of the road. Its body is laying across the

road, and its tail is hidden by some brush on the other side. We are right up to it and there is no easy way around it. The only thing to do is to get over it as fast as we can and keep going. I have been riding on the running board so I can get to the winch cable faster and am the closest one to the snake when we hit it. The impact jolts the car, and I feel a little sick to the stomach. No one looks back as we continue on down the road.

I had noticed that there is a railway line not too far away that is running somewhat parallel to the road. It is getting harder and harder to recognize the road so I recommend to Hurley that we drive along the tracks. It will be level, and we won't have the mud hole problems. The line is narrow gauge and our vehicle fits over the rails easily. A quick look at the condition of the roadbed assures us that very little traffic passes over it. It looks like a safe bet that we will not encounter a train during the night. Hurley thinks my suggestion is a good one. The ride is somewhat bumpy, but we feel we are making better time than on the highway with all of the constant stops.

We enjoy a few miles of level, uninterrupted ride before we discover the main problem that we are going to have with the railroad. Because of the rainy season washes, it was necessary to build a number of trestle bridges along the line. We have come to the first of many that we will cross during the evening. Crossing a trestle bridge is somewhat similar to getting out of a mud hole, except instead of handling the winch cable, I walk backwards ahead of the car, guiding the driver by hand signals. Some of the sleepers (ties in America) are broken or missing. None of the bridges are extremely high but there were no side rails or anything to keep us from falling. In some places, it is an inch by inch proposition to get the vehicle across. Hurley and Clear, of course, simply walk across. We stay with the railroad even though we will cross thirteen more of these bridges before we stop for the night.

20 February 1942

In the Bush

Northern Territory, Australia

Shortly after midnight, we come to several tiny frame shacks near the track. There are five of them. We stop at the first, and Hurley asks me to pound on the door to wake the occupant. It turns out that, living here, are five men, all employees of the North Australia Railroad. They are responsible for the maintenance of this section of the track. They are all excited to see us and impressed to have an American General as a guest for the night. They have not heard about the raid on Darwin yet and want all the details we can give them. One of them goes to the fireplace, stokes up the fire, and swings a large iron cooking pot over the flames. He stirs the contents with a long-handled wooden spoon, and is soon serving us kangaroo tail soup. He observes, by way of explanation, that a tribe of Abo's live about 1500 yards away and that they keep them supplied with fresh kangaroo meat. This is my first taste of kangaroo, and it is not even out of a can, but killed by a boomerang in the Northern Territory. It tasted great.

Breaking away and getting to bed is going to be a problem. All of us are dead tired, but I can tell that our new-found friends would prefer to stay up all night and talk. They apparently don't get much conversation out of their next-door neighbors, the tribe of Abo's. I learn that these five men live in a state of semi-isolation. Once a week, a passenger train goes by, and they wave at the crew and passengers. For long periods of time, this is their only so called contact with other whites. It was only natural, perhaps, that they would look to Aborigines living in the vicinity for human companionship. While it was not often mentioned, the frontier practice of cohabitation with Aboriginal women was in this case practiced to some degree. There were no women at the huts that night, but the spokesman offered to get one for Hurler. She vas to be the one he considered the best of the tribe. Hurley thanked the man profusely but declined. The next morning Hurley told me how touched he was because, as he said, "it was that man's woman that he was offering." The five men were apparently on good terms with the tribe. They were being supplied with fresh kangaroo meat, and they received a certain amount of companionship and household work from the women.

Finally they take pity on us and preparations are made for sleeping. Two beds inside are given up for Hurley and Clear. The driver and I will sleep outside in the car. He will have the front seat, and I will have the rear. It is going to be a rough night as the mosquitoes are out in full force, and we have no repellent or netting. As tired as I am, however, I am confident that I will get what sleep I need.

Everyone is up at daylight. Our hosts give us a light breakfast of fried bread they call damper and some weak coffee and chicory. After breakfast, plans are discussed for the continuation of our journey. The railroad men show us a small maintenance rail car they have to use in their work. It is on a siding between two of the houses. It is a bit like the old flatbed handcar except theirs is powered by a small gasoline motor. One man can come along to operate it and can take us as far as the end of the line at Katherine. This sounds good to Hurley so he accepts at once.

Now that we have no further use for the command car, Hurley thanks the driver and sends him back to his Base in Darwin. I hope he makes it all right on his own. Without three officers to tell him what to do all the time he, at least, will be able to go at his own pace, by whichever route he chooses. Also, he does have some emergency, hard rations in the car in case of a breakdown.

The little rail car is wheeled out onto the main line and we are ready to go. By placing our luggage on first, we have something to sit on and enough room for the three of us plus the operator. After many thanks to our new friends, the little "putt putt" engine is started, and we are on our way down the main line towards Katherine.

The ride is very pleasant. the lack of a backrest is more than offset by the leisurely, level ride, and the opportunity to enjoy the scenery. We go over more trestle bridges but they are no longer a problem. Other problems we are now happy to do without are python snakes and treacherous mud holes. We go through wooded areas and Hurler says he sees a Koala bear, but I miss it.

In due time we reach the end of the line at Katherine. We are now about 330 km south of Darwin. We find that Katherine has a single hotel of corrugated iron, a couple of stores, a make-shift hospital, and a small airstrip. We thank the representative of the North Australian Railway for the transportation. Also there are fond good-byes to the little rail car and the operator.

One of our units, the 808th Aviation Engineers, arrived in Katherine only yesterday. Unsettled as they are, they manage to prepare something for us to eat. It is certainly adequate, but we all agree that it doesn't taste as good as the kangaroo tail soup did last night.

Now the question is, where do we go from here? Hurley checks in with La Rue by phone and finds out a replacement Liberator will be sent to transport us if we will just stay put long enough to be picked up. We are told that the Liberator cannot land at Katherine but can land at Daly Waters. After a few phone calls, we contact an air charter service called Guinea Airways. They are located in Daly Waters and yes they can send a plane to Katherine to pick us up and bring us back to Daly Waters. We wait at the airstrip and before long a little Lockheed 10A comes in for a landing. The pilot takes us on a routine flight to Daly Waters. At Daly Waters, we do not have long to wait for the Liberator and this same afternoon find ourselves airborne for Alice Springs.

Our hotel for the night in Alice Springs is a nice looking low structure that in America would be called western style. In fact, the town itself reminds me of Hays, Kansas where, as a boy, traveling with my family from the Missouri farmlands to Colorado, we would say, "This is where the West begins." Of course, I have seen several camels around Alice Springs, and you never see one in Hays unless the circus is in town. It is too late for hot food at the hotel, but they manage some cold roast beef and salad for our dinner. This is fine with me, and I am quite content with this and a beer at the bar before turning in early.

21 February, 1942

Alice Springs

Northern Territory, Australia

For the first time in several mornings, we awake without facing the problems and anxieties that have become a part of our trip. After a leisurely breakfast it is out to the airfield to finish our journey. On the way, I think what a shame that we don't have time to visit nearby Avers Rock but duty calls and pleasure trips are not part of our itinerary. It takes our Liberator bomber most of the day to fly to the RAAF field at Richmond outside of Sydney. We arrive late in the afternoon and are driven the 40 odd miles into the city. It is the Hotel Australia again where we stayed on our way up. This is a big city hotel in a city that is almost 3 million in population. It is so different from the much smaller hotels that we have been in. The only one that approached it in size was the elegant Savor Hotel in Bandoeng, Java.

22 February, 1942

Hotel Australia

Sydney, Australia

Hurley has only a few odd jobs for me to do for him today, so I will have an opportunity to get some rest and relaxation. I am mostly social secretary for him today, making appointments and arranging transportation.

Clear leaves us today and is flying to Washington, D.C. He offers to take a letter for me that he will mail from Washington. As he says, I can speak more freely that way than in one that goes through overseas censorship. I sit down at once and write a letter to my parents, telling them as much as I dare about the many adventures I have been having.

23 February, 1942

Sydney, Australia

Hurley informs me that he wants to stay in Sydney for a couple of more days and that he is releasing me to return to General Barnes. He thanks me for my service to him and settles up for the expenditures I've made out of pocket for him. This brings to a close, my temporary tour of duty with one or the more colorful individuals of the war, on one of the most urgent, important missions of the day. I try to convey this feeling to him in our farewell. He acknowledges the tribute by a silent salute and little more is said about it.

It is now time to think about returning to Melbourne and General Barnes. I have been on so many airplanes of late that I think I would like to try the train. I find that I can get a train out at 8:50 p.m. tonight and that I can even reserve a compartment on it.

With my transportation arrangements made I have the rest of the day to myself. I am interested in the harbor boat ride. I can hardly believe that it only costs two pence which is a little less than two cents in American currency. It is a great ride as Sydney has a beautiful, interesting harbor.

The train looks comfortable enough. It is standard gauge and very much like the trains that I have traveled on in America. I always sleep well on trains and am looking forward to a good night's rest.

24 February, 1942

Express Train

New South Wales, Australia

True to form, I have such a deep sleep that I do not awake in the morning until there is a loud knock on my compartment door. There is the conductor standing there with a cup of tea for me. I discover that we will soon be in Albury at the border of New South Wales and the state of Victoria and that it will soon be necessary for me to leave the train. Albury will be the end of the line for this train because another state means a change of gauge. The New South Wales train that I am on is 4 ft-8 1/2 inch gauge, and the Victoria train I will continue on will be of the wider 5 it - 3 inch gauge. The wider, heavier Victoria train, the "Spirit of Progress," enjoys the reputation of being the finest train in the Southern Hemisphere. Between trains, I have a modest breakfast at the Kiosk on the Albury station platform.

The "Spirit of Progress" train lives up to its reputation. It has an elegant dining car and a very comfortable, luxurious observation lounge car. Riding it is a real experience in the latest in luxury. Too bad it only goes for a distance of 185 miles. I have lunch on the train before arriving in Melbourne in the early afternoon.

27 February, 1942

Ascot Vale Hospital

Melbourne, Australia

Poor General Barnes. His aide has been back at work only two days and now has come down with the Dengue fever. I have a temperature of 102 degrees and the General had his driver take me to the hospital. I include this with my Java trip because, after all, I did contract the fever in the Northern Territory after the Darwin bombing raid. It was that night in the back seat of the command car that did it.

Epilogue

Yes, I did recover after a few days and went back to my old job of being aide to General Barnes. And I did see General Hurley again. Several times he came into the headquarters and once I saw him at Menzies Hotel in the city. I believe he stayed in Australia for a couple of months before returning to Washington before his next assignment as Minister to New Zealand.

The ABDA command in Java started to break up soon after our leaving. On 24 February 1942, General Brereton flew the remaining B-17s to India. The very next day, on 25 February 1942 Wavell himself left for India. This marked the end of ABDA as a unified command.

Notes

1. Chronological War Diary, United States Army, Base Section 3, World War II, Brisbane Australia. War Diary extracted from the personal record of Captain Howard L. Steffy QMC, page 5.

2. After a known stopover of a least one night in Brisbane, his hotel bill shows that he arrived in Melbourne late in the day of 7 February 1942. My first official act for Hurley was to get his hotel bill paid, the original of which I still have in my possession.

3. It has been reported that Hurley brought a large sum of currency with him to Australia. Louis Morton, of the office of the Chief of Military History, reports in his Strategy and Command: The First Two Years, that $10,000,000.00 of the Chief of State's funds were made available to General Brereton and another $1,000,000.00 to General MacArthur. It is inferred that Hurley may have carried these funds to Australia. Mark Mutter, a former signal corps Lt. at the Brisbane Base Section, reports in his diary that he saw Hurley with a large sum of U.S currency and that Hurley told him the amount was $12,000,000. From my own personal observations at the time, it is my belief that any large sums of currency that Hurley may have had were disbursed prior to my assignment to him on 12 February 1942.

4. Don Lohbeck, Patrick J. Hurley, page 161, message from Brett at Wavell's HQ to Hurler saying "Naval authorities refuse permission to use twelve vessels for Philippine plan."

5. Shortly after the Darwin raid, a story appeared in American newspapers stating that between Java and Australia we were attacked by enemy fighters. The story quoted Hurley as saying, "It was only because of the acrobatic flying of the pilot and the sharp-shooting of the crew that we escaped." Actually our problems were before and after rather than during this flight. The erroneous story was traced to a new cub reporter in Melbourne. Not being familiar with Hurley's style, he took as factual some remarks Hurley made in jest. He somehow got his story past local censors, and it was eagerly picked up by news hungry papers in America. Afterwards Hurley spoke to me personally about the matter. He was very upset that the reporter had not realized that his "off the record" remarks were only in jest.

6. Don Lohbeck, Patrick J. Hurley, page 163, "During the air raid, General Hurley was wounded in the head by a flying bomb fragment." By my own personal knowledge, it happened the way it is described in my diary. It was his right shoulder that I helped bandage.

7. Douglass Lockwood, Australia's Pearl Harbor, page 140. "Captain James Punk arrived at dusk from Daly Waters to fly General Hurley to Sydney -- ." It is inferred that this plane transported him from Darwin. The plane was sent but the pilot did not find us until we "surfaced" at Katherine and arranged to be picked up at Daly Waters. It should be pointed out that, at the time, Hurley did not know that another plane was available or he would have waited in Darwin. However, his mission did not include anything in the Darwin area, and he was anxious to reach the communication centers to the south so he could make his reporting to Washington.