Cite: http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article2585280

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DEFENDERS OF PORT MORESBY

CONTEMPT FOR JAPANESE RAIDERS

(By Geoffrey, Hutton, Our War Correspondent)

A shabby little town with a few houses missing, which sprawls over gaunt, scrub-covered hills, and stunted gums, growing out of hard soil, blackened by the ashes of burnt grass-that is Port Moresby. In the mountains a small scale war is going on among the mists and

young rubber tress but Moresby is less like a part of lush tropical New Guinea than a garrison town some-

where in Northern Australia.        

A few small but well-built natives   wearing scarlet ramis around their waists and hibiscus flowers in their   hair pad the gravel roads in their bare feet, but most of the "boongs" have been shifted up country, and there are no women of any colour within miles of this military post.

WITHSTANDS JAP BLITZ

It is six months since the Japanese began sending their heavy bombers over Port Moresby to blot it off the map, and after more than 80 raids you might expect that it would have suffered a thorough blitz. It has not.   The remarkable fact about this   "Aunt Sally" of the northern area is   that it has stood up to its battering with so little damage.

Irregular rows of neat bomb craters     dot the scrub; a few buildings have been blotted out, and their wreckage removed; out in ithe harbour the wreckage of the Macdhui reminds you that the Japanese bomhers do not   always miss but Moresby sprawls over a large area, like any Australian town of its size, and the bombs have barely scratched its surface.    

MORALE UNSHAKEN     Nor have they done very much damage to the morale of the men of   Moresby. I have talked to men liv- ing in the luxury of deserted shacks down in the scrub; I have talked to them at dumps or in concealed camps. They are a husky crowd, who usually work stripped to the waist, and take

pride in the depth of their suntan   which shows how long they have been on the job. They have been acclima- tised well at Port Moresby, which is a half-way house between the climate of the North Australian scaboard and the dank, tropical heat of the most of New Guinea. The men are gen- erally fit and healthy, and they have acquired a contempt for air raids.

The Japs have not got them scared. If you glance through the verses in the weekly news sheet or in the rougher and racier typewritten unit bulletins, you will find the old Digger sense of humour, wry and ironical, forcing its way up as it did in France and Gallipoli. Mosquitoes, Zeros or Tojo are always good for a laugh; so is bully beef and dust and the beer drought. But, above all, monotony. MONOTONY IS WORST ENEMY

Monotony is the worst enemy. Some   of the men of Moresby have spent months without seeing a girl, going to a movie, having a hot bath, a change of food, or even a bottle of   beer. The feeling is summed up in     a rough sketch of two soldiers which makes the front cover of a bat- tery journal.

They are gazing with profound concentration one at an empty bully beef tin, the other, at a centipede. Together they voice their feelings in the unanswered question: "Wouldn't it?" Wouldn't it what? "Fill in the words yourself, the soldiers just leave it to the imagination.      

Something is being done' to show them that they are not Australia's forgotten men. A few mobile talkie units have arrived and begun to,play open-air shows to packed house's '

The movies are not the only relief the men have from their monotony. I went to a concert at which a team of well-trained aircraftmen danced in heavy make-up and improvised ballet

dresses, and a graduate of the Mel- bourne Conservatorium succeeded in   playing in lune on a violin strung   signal wire. Swimming and boxing   competitions are being organised and   one unit is equipping a club with im- provised gear so that men will be able to read magazines, take a swim, a hot bath or a haircut, and even

play billiards.  

EDUCATIONAL PLANS      

A small but hard working band of A.O.F., Red Cross, Salvation Army and other organisers are behind these improvements and some unit com- manders and the men themselves are using their spare time to help. An American swing band is idolised by

troops of both nations.    

More impottant still, I think, is the work of the Army Education Service, which is striking at the feelings of

boredom by giving the troops infor-   mation, something to think about, and     something to read. More than 300 men are already taking courses in civilian trades, and one private re- cently hitch-hiked his way for 20 miles during a day's leave to make  

sure of getting his application in.  

A roving lecturer gives the troops political 'talks, explaining to them in their own language why they are in New Guinea and why they are an important element in the world pic- ture. A readable weekly, the "Mores- by Army "News Sheet," does the same service, besides retailing the news of

Moresby and telling the men whether   Collingwood' beat Fitzroy. Type-

written wall news sheets keep the

men in closer touch-with the general war picture.      

       

THE AMUSEMENT PROBLEM     This is probably,the most valuable   service being done in Port Moresby but, like the other services it is on far too small a scale. A.I.F. men,     who have been in the Middle East.   contrast the scale of these efforts   with the generous provisions made for them oversea. There is much less

to amuse and entertain a soldier on   leave along the south-east of New Guinea than there is in Palestine or   Syria or Egypt. Everybody knows   that the supply problem is difficult,  

but it is difficult in the Middle East,

too.      

Moresby is our front line, and its   holders deserve all the support they

can get from the rear. In spite of      

their months of tedium and, gnawing   uncertainty, the morale of the great   bulk of troops around Moresby is high. They know that their mates   are in the thick of it up in the hills.  

A surprising number of them are  

following the world war news from day to day, and are itching to take   their share in a world counter-offen-   sive. Hitch hiking with some militia-  

men on a truck load of road metal

soon after I reached Port Moresby, I  

was peppered with questions. How are the Russians doing? When are we

going to start things in Europe?  

Can't we take a crack at the blanks somewhere? It was only later that somebody began to sigh for a hot bath, a poached egg, some fresh meat and a pint of beer.  

The "Rats of Tobruk", have become part of Australia's legend, thanks to Lord Haw Haw. Up in New Guinea they have thought up a name for themselves which is not devoid of pride. One of the poets of the News Sheet has named them the "Mice of Moresby," and the "mice" are going to gnaw their way right back to Tokyo, he says.

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