Chapter 1 The End of the Conflict; Last Operation; Morotai and Points West

THE END OF THE CONFLICT

"LET us pray that peace be now restored to the world, and that God preserve it always. These proceedings are now closed."

With these curt words, General MacArthur turned in the sunlight of a calm, serene Sunday morning in Tokyo Bay and stalked from the desk on board U.S.S. Missouri. On the desk lay the document of Japanese surrender, and facing it, grim-faced, were the Japanese signatories-facing, too, the realization that they were the envoys of a people who had been defeated in their aim to bring aggression, domination and cruelty to the civilized world.

The proceedings, General MacArthur had said, were now closed. And with their closing ceased the bloodiest war ever brought to mankind, the vilest, cruelest onslaught on a peaceful world ever known.

The agony was passed. The racking, harrowing years of sorrow, pain, death, pillage, rape, murder and torture were over, and a nation that had gloried in these dastardly acts lay beaten, humiliated at the feet of its conqueror.

Standing with General MacArthur on the deck of the Missouri during that hour of triumph was an Australian in R.A.A.F. blue, the man who had come several thousand miles to represent a force which, for one so small in numerical strength compared with American might, had struck at Japan blows of magnificent, courageous might. He was Air Vice-Marshal George Jones, C.B., C.B.E., D.F.C., Chief of the Air Staff of the R.A.A.F.

It was his proudest hour, a moment for which he, and his thousands of gallant flyers, ground-staff workers, nurses and women had tolled for long years. It was the hour for which he and the R.A.A.F. had been born. For the war against Japan was the R.A.A.F.'s first great trial of strength. And now he, as its chief and its representative at this historic moment, felt pride in the way it had acquitted itself during those years of war.

Air Vice-Marshal Jones came back from Japan convinced that the R.A.A.F. would do everything possible to help these people, and convinced of one other thing - that the Japanese people should never again be given an opportunity to inflict such ignominies upon its fellow humans.

It is to be hoped," he said in Melbourne on his return, "that Australians will realize what an extraordinary escape they have had from any real bomb damage during the war, and will take steps to ensure that their country will never again have to face dangers equal to those of the war which has just ended. Maintenance of adequate air defences in the years to come is the surest way that safety can be guaranteed.

"The Japanese have been cowed for the time being, but their spirit has not been broken. They may endeavour to regain their strength for a further attempt to enforce their Greater East Asia Co-prosperity plan upon the world. Only rigid control by the Allies can keep their ambitions in check."

Although the formal surrender of Japan as a nation had been signed aboard U.S.S. Missouri on Sunday, September 3 (six years to the day since war in Europe began), the surrender of all Japanese forces scattered throughout the Pacific and South-East Asia had not been finalized.

The R.A.A.F. was called into service again. In Bougainville and Borneo leaflets were dropped to the enemy forces, calling on them to lay down their arms, informing them of the Emperor's capitulation, and instructing them how to behave and where to report for the signing of surrender terms. On Bougainville, too, R.A.A.F. aircraft carried, painted on the underneath part of their mainplanes, Japanese lettering announcing the cessation of hostilities.

In South-East Asia Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten experienced considerable difficulty with the Japanese signatories, but by stern, unwavering enforcing of his orders brought about their final surrender. Representing Australia at the signing was Air Vice Marshal Adrian Cole, C.B.E., D.S.O., M.C., D.F.C., leader of an Australian delegation to Mountbatten's headquarters.

These two had worked together before. When Lord Louis Mountbatten, one of the most colourful and most competent of the younger commanders to be discovered during the war, was Britain's Chief of Combined Operations he planned the daring Dieppe raid on the Nazi fortifications in Europe. Directing the air support for that superbly brave operation was Air Vice-Marshal Cole, then on loan from the R.A.A.F. to the R.A.F.

He observed the operation from the bridge of a R.A.N. destroyer which, towards the end of the day, was attacked several times by German aircraft. Air Vice-Marshal Cole was wounded in the back. For his brilliant coordination of the participating air forces on that occasion he was awarded the D.S.O.

Group-Captain Dixie Robison Chapman, of Adelaide (S.A.), represented the R.A.A.F. when Lieut.-General S. G. Savige, commander of the Australian forces on Bougainville, accepted the Samurai sword (and with it the surrender of all Jap forces) of General Kanda. Group-Captain Chapman served in the Middle East and in England during the earlier years of the war, commanding R.A.A.F. squadrons in the Western Desert. On his return to Australia he took over control of all R.A.A.F. forces on Bougainville.

At other signings the R.A.A.F. played its part-transporting officials, dropping instructions, even rushing photographs of the ceremonies to mainland newspaper offices.

When Colonel Tatsuichi Kaida handed over his Timor forces to Brigadier L. G. H. Dyke, on board H.M.A.S. Moresby, off Koepang, photographs of the ceremony were taken by Flight-Lieutenant John Harrison, a R.A.A.F. cameraman. The ceremony was at 2-30 P-mon a Tuesday. Immediately afterwards, Harrison flew in a R.A.A.F. Catalina to Darwin, stayed overnight, took off at first light next morning in a R.A.A.F. Liberator, and had the pictures in Melbourne ten hours later.

At Kuching the first R.A.A.F. aircraft to land after the capitulation of the Japanese garrison force was a Kittyhawk from Labuan, which picked up photographs taken by Pilot Officer G. C. Cull, and flew them to Labuan, where they were collected and taken on in a Mosquito by Flight-Lieutenant Reg Pfeiffer, of Adelaide, and his navigator, Flying-Officer Bob Sainsbury, of Concord (N.S.W.). Fastest aircraft the R.A.A.F. possesses, the Mosquito flew to Melbourne by way of Balikpapan, Darwin and Alice Springs, reaching Melbourne next morning.

But in the meantime other R.A.A.F. aircraft had been busy on the task of relieving Australian prisoners of war.

On August 16, a day after VP-day, Warrant-Officer Lionel Parham, of Beverley, (S.A.), flew a R.A.A.F. Beaufighter at twenty feet above the ground over the Kuching compound. About sixty prisoners of war, dressed in shorts and apparently in fairly good physical condition, cheered and waved frantically as Parham flew over and dropped leaflets announcing the end of the Pacific war.

Dipping his wing in response to their greeting, Parham brought the glad news back to Labuan.

Later in the month Flying-Officer Ralph Martin, of Bondi (N.S.W.), and his navigator, Flight-Sergeant George Watson, of Bondi Junction (N.S.W.), flew a Mosquito over the Kuching compound, and saw the thrilling message, "A.I.F. All Well Here", laid out in huge white letters.

Martin reported having seen several figures, leaning against trees in characteristic Australian serviceman attitude.

His report was later confirmed by a R.A.A.F. Beaufort crew, comprising Pilot Officer Bruce Edenborough, of Sydney, his navigator, Flying-Officer Wesley Smith, of Adelaide, and wireless operator Flight-Sergeant Bob Steel, of Pinaroo (S.A.). They flew over Ktiching with an escort of Mosquitoes, making a detailed, low-level reconnaissance of the prisoners of war camp.

Commanding officer of the Mosquito squadron, Wing-Commander Ross Little, D.F.C., of Perth, and his navigator, Flight-Lieutenant Frank Magee, D.F.C., of Glen Iris (V.), saw numbers of prisoners in the compound, many of whom were definitely white, although well suntanned. They wore slouch hats, some of them turned up at the sides.

Acting on this information, the R.A.A.F. arranged for Flight-Lieutenant Lindley Clayfield, of Brisbane (Q.), to drop from his Douglas medical supplies, food and clothing to the prisoners. Escorting Mosquitoes reported that all the supplies fell in the compound.

Women and children rushed out to recover them. Shortly afterwards Mosquito crews saw a Japanese officer and guards arrive, after which the cases of supplies were piled in one heap.

Flight-Lieutenant Maurice Shaw, of Geelong (V.), and his navigator, Flying-Officer Jim Robinson, of Northgate (Q.), saw about 200 men.

"Quite a few were definitely white and gave the thumbs-up sign," said Shaw. "Others gave us the prize fighters' two-handed salute."

These men, these Mosquito, Douglas and Beaufort pilots who had first brought the news that Australians were captive in Kuching had their reward soon after the surrender, when R.A.A.F. Dakotas landed on the strip which the R.A.A.F. had deliberately refrained from bombing) to bring the prisoners out and on the first stage of their move to home and comfort again.

But prisoners were also being liberated from other areas previously controlled by the Japanese, and the R.A.A.F. placed at the disposal of the liberating authorities whatever they needed in the way of aircraft, flyers and ground-staff technicians.

Between Sydney and Manila, which rapidly became a gathering centre for liberated prisoners from Japan and Korea, the R.A.A.F. ran a shuttle service with twelve Liberators. Maintaining a regular service between the Philippines and Sydney, the Liberators carried more than 170,000 pounds of supplies for the released men, in addition to nearly 130,000 pounds of clothing, intended for British and Canadian prisoners of war and internees.

Twenty-four Darwin-based R.A.A.F. Liberators co-operated in one of the greatest and longest mercy errands. They flew nearly 9,000 miles to rush supplies to starving prisoners of war in Java.

Half the Liberators left Darwin at short notice on a direct 2,000-mile flight to Mascot (N.S.W.). Arriving early in the morning, they picked up urgently needed medical supplies and food, and left a few hours later, making the return flight of nearly 2,300 miles through Amberley (Q.) to Darwin.

The supplies were then transferred to twelve Liberators of a sister squadron, No. 23, which had just returned from providing cover for the landing in Timor.

These twelve aircraft took off from Darwin for Truscott, in the northern Kimberley's (W.A.), and left there at first light for Java to drop ten tons of supplies to the starving prisoners of war at Magelang. With insufficient fuel to return to Darwin, they landed at Cocos Island, refuelled, took on more supplies, and made the return trip to Darwin by way ,of Magelang again, where they dropped more supplies.

By this time, arrangements were gradually being finalized for one of the greatest "comebacks" in the history of war - the retaking of the huge Singapore naval base.

Singapore is a name that will be as indelibly engraved on the memory of every Australian as Botany Bay, or the Eureka Stockade, for it was here that thousands of the nation's finest manhood were taken captive by the then all conquering Japanese in the dark, tragic days

Of 1941 and early 1942. But Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten's forces were by this time all ready to take over the base again.

Nine R.A.A.F. Catalinas, under the command of Wing-Commander Keith Bolitho, D.F.C., of Adelaide-one of the R.A.A.F.'s most famous "Black Cat" pilots-took off from Labuan, in British North Borneo, after waiting impatiently for some days for the "Go ahead" signal.

When they did leave, they carried with them 10,000 pounds of blood plasma, penicillin, quinine, and other medicinal supplies to care for thousands of prisoners of war who stood in urgent need of medical attention.

Of the 5,000 Australians held prisoner in the Singapore prison camps, more than 1,200 were known to be in urgent need of medical treatment, and the Catalinas carried, besides the medical supplies, quantities of Red Cross supplies such as malt extract, glucose and other delicacies.

In addition to the fifty-four personnel and 35,000 pounds of supplies carried by the Catalinas, R.A.A.F. Dakotas were used to transport an Army wireless unit of thirty men and a further 35,000 pounds of their equipment to Singapore to help speed up the transmission of information on the progress of the liberation of prisoners.

With the Catalinas went R.A.A.F. nursing sisters-"flying sisters"-who tended the wounded -on the long trip back home. Under Senior Sister Margaret Braid, of Perth, these girls did magnificent work, flying backwards and forwards between Labuan, Morotai and Singapore, and even as far afield as Bangkok.

Among the first prisoners of war from Singapore to reach the mainland by Catalina was Sergeant A. M. Blain, M.H.R. for the Northern Territory, who was captured during the Malayan campaign. It was while he was held prisoner that Sergeant Blain heard, on a secret radio set constructed by his fellow prisoners. of his re-election to the House of Representatives.

A R.A.A.F. officer, Wing-Commander C. ("Jos") Bell, was the first man to bring the spirits of the
news of the safety and high prisoners of war in Slam. He was officer in charge of the Psychological Warfare Division of the South-East Asia Command.

At the height of the prisoner liberation period, the R.A.A.F. had more than seventy of its aircraft placed at the disposal of the various operational commands. The majority of these were Douglas transports operating from Morotai, Labuan and Singapore, on every kind of mercy mission needed to speed up the freeing of the prisoners.

To meet the extra demand on air transport facilities, R.A.A.F. training Catalinas and Liberators were specially demilitarized to augment the normal transport squadrons.

Dakotas were taken off all regular courier runs, excepting to Morotai, and Liberators took over, allowing the more spacious Dakotas to be used if called on by the Army. Ten of them were assigned to help the S.E.A.C. authorities fly prisoners of war from Penang and Slam to Singapore.

The part that the R.A.A.F. played during the years of war was one born of hatred and detestation f or the Japanese aggressors. From the moment that Japan entered the war with its behind-the-back stab at Pearl Harbour, the R.A.A.F. never once lost contact with the enemy, striking at him with every available power and force.

The part that the R.A.A.F. played in the liberation of prisoners of war was one born of hatred and detestation for the gross cruelties inflicted by the Japs on Allied prisoners, and of a determination that, so far as it could, the R.A.A.F. would help free them speedily and so soon as possible.

Men in the R.A.A.F. had lost brothers, fathers, relatives and "cobbers" in those ghastly four years, and no one helped more willingly, more whole-heartedly to free the less fortunate than the flyers, ground staff, nurses and doctors of the R.A.A.F.

FLYING-OFFICER FRANK DOHERTY

LAST OPERATION

This is the true story of the flight of Catalina, 424-365, on the night of July 26-27, 1945, Part of a detachment of 42 Squadron based at Labuan.

IT is nearly midnight, local time. just below the dark cloud-base, the low coastline of Sumatra marks the limit of the visible world. To starboard lies the ever nearer coast of Banka Island which we follow, keeping about one mile offshore. We have come down to 6oo feet and are aware of the closeness of the dull shadowy sea, that treacherous servant of man, the fickle mistress of flying boats, on whose bosom we play, or take our rest, but never trust her changing moods. Still the sea of the Old Testament, the sea of Joseph Conrad.

Points of land, breaking reefs and large rocks or islets rush at us and pass quickly below giving us the feeling of great speed which is missing at greater heights. We have entered Banka Strait from the south, towards the narrows where our mission lies. This is where our minefields are, and this, we have been told, is the last mine-laying, mission needed to complete the field; owing, to the imminent invasion of these parts by Mountbatten's forces, no more mines were to be laid. Little did we guess that this would lb-C our last operational mission for war!

"Radar to cockpit, blip on the port bow, now four miles, looks like a ship!" Our eager Charles has been reporting the shape and distance of the land ahead, and in the cockpit Marsh and I check up the objects which we manage to see, and rely on Alan's navigation and our memories to sort out the remaining blips.

My usual reply is: "Cockpit to radar, that must be Lucipara Island!" But tonight there were too many Lucipara Islands . . . and being in mid-channel they could be nothing but ships. It reminded me of the time, last year, when we had innocently laid mines in Brunei Bay while a powerful Japanese task force was lying at anchor there. These blips of ours could be no task force, but whatever they were they would have to wait till we had finished our mining.

Only a few miles to datum, as we fly like a bat into a low, wide, dark cavern; the murk is softly broken by a line of radiance ahead where the horizon ought to be. As we near it the heavens open up, the full moon appears in a dazzling sky, and night is turned to day. The sea comes to life, olive green, with flecks of white, though the land looks blacker than ever.

We turn across the strait to our datum, repeating, to fortify our memories, the course to fly, the height, the speed agreed upon, and most important, the time in seconds between datum and each mine. Up comes the datum point, we turn on to course, get the Speed and height steady, and the navigator in the bow calls: "Coming up to datum. . . . On datum.... Go!" and then Norm starts counting the seconds, back in the light of the navigation compartment.

During those hurried moments we had been aware of various black shapes around us, but what sort of vessels they could be would have to wait. More blips have been appearing out in mid-channel, but they are never reported during the mining run. Soon we drop the first mine, half a minute later the second, and the job is done!

Now to gather full details of the enemy shipping, to give valuable data to the people who arrange our bombing attacks and our submarine searches. We are carrying no bombs ourselves and have no cannon or rockets, so we have to be content with a "look-see". Turning to port, we make back for our datum, but soon sight two ships in company. We have a quick look, note their position, and keep on for our datum. Just this side of the point lie at least two square masses of barges or house-boats, in the shallow water. As we strain our eyes to analyse them, I see, just below the surface, a large shape which appears to be a wreck, perhaps a recent one due to our old mines. Several canoes lie around, and we next examine a large square landing barge. It is lying at anchor, with a dozen canoes tied up astern, and not a trace of life.

Now we make out to midstream, and soon pick up one of our early blips. It turns out to be a small schooner under sail, heading northwards against the tide. About 100 tons, probably built of wood, and therefore practically safe from our acoustic-magnetic mines, so long as she has no engines. Back we go to our former two ships, and fly very close alongside, because although it appears to be as light as day, it is a strain trying to pick up any detail In these black shapes.

The first ship looks like a tanker, but as we pass close by it resolves into a coastal vessel with funnel aft, about 1,500 tons. As I glimpse a pair of Samson posts, which confirm the type, a stream of tracers squirts from the fo'c'sle, and as we sheer away another stream starts from the bridge. Then a large yellow flash comes from the stern gun, probably a 3-inch model. We are closely surrounded by vivid violet streamers, as I observe some wild shots skimming over the surface of the water. By this time the ship is abaft the beam, and we are closing the second ship. She starts to welcome us with the same tracers, but no large yellow flashes.

This one appears to be a naval sloop or escort vessel, too good to be employed as a minesweeper, and of powerful and modern build. Also about 1,500 tons, we decide, as we fly away to look for the next exhibits.

Our next blip is very small, like a submarine, but it turns out to be a navigation buoy. Two more blips are showing up ahead, large ones, and we soon sight two ships ahead. They are at anchor like the last two, and we steer between them, so I can observe one and Marsh the other, and also that any shots fired at us may hit the other ship. Marsh's ship opens fire rather prematurely, before I get a good look at her, and we dive a bit lower between the ships. My one turns out to be a large tanker about 5,000 tons, and her companion is no smaller.

Finally my tanker opens fire, belatedly, and away we go. This was all really interesting. Each time I ducked my head into the cockpit to dodge the very close ones. Norm was back at the W/T, and very disturbed by the noise of gunfire. Ted the engineer, whose station gives him a good view on both sides, was wishing he had somewhere else to look, while our three watchers in the blisters, Wally, John and Roy, were recoiling from port and star-board alternately. The navigator was reported
to have disembodied himself and to have hidden the pieces in different parts of the aircraft for safety.

We did not open fire, because that would give the ships too good a target; for, while we knew how clearly we must be silhouetted against the bright sky, the gun-flashes would blind the gunners as soon as they opened fire. By this time we are closing the far side of the strait, and a whole lot of blips show up. As we get closer, we find four ships anchored in line abreast and we steer past their bows.

The second ship in the line opens up, but not before we have assessed them as large junks or small coasters of 7oo tons each. We sheer away again and by now are at 100 feet, pass over a jetty surrounded by small craft, and are soon over the land. We have suddenly become very tired of looking at ships, and anyway there can't be many more Japanese ships left.

I look over the side and see that we are passing over a town, large commercial buildings and good streets, when to my great amazement I see a revolver fired at me from between two buildings. We are at a comfortable height above the trees, but there are hills close ahead. So we head off to the east and decide to go home, the engineer reminding us that only 500 gallons remain. We make for
Cape Berikat, and set course for North Borneo.

On our way we prepare our report, with sketches of each ship, and also prepare a cup of tea. Little did we think that we had seen the last shots that would be fired at us; little did we dream that we had completed our last operation!

WING-COMMANDER BRETT HILDER

MOROTAI AND P0INTS WEST

MORE jungle, more tropical seas, more coral airstrips, and further inroads into the diminishing pseudo-Japanese Pacific Empire, have featured the march of units of the R.A.A.F. from Morotai to points west during 1945.

"R.A.A.F.-Pacific"-the postal address and home of many thousands of young Australians for so long, has come to be synonymous with the high achievement in digging the yellow hordes from their jungle lairs by aerial attrition.

This is a story which cannot be written in the weight of bombs dropped, number of rounds fired, or flying hours. It can best be told in the number of airfields denied the enemy, the escape routes pounded and blocked, the isolation and starvation of his island garrisons.

From New Guinea to the Philippines, from the Halmaheras to Borneo, and beyond, have been the 1945 hunting grounds for our jungle flyers on their exacting missions.

By the end of 1944 the R.A.A.F. was firmly established on Morotai Island, although physically the Allies were entrenched on only a small portion of this tiny island at the top of the Halmahera Group, or to give them their more romantic name-the Spice Islands.

The serious threat the Allies now offered to the Japanese conquests in the Netherlands East Indies was indicated by the savagery with which the enemy struck at our Morotai base towards the end of the year, and before our pilots had got round to neutralizing strips and destroying all enemy aircraft within range.

The pre-Christmas period was not all plain sailing for the Morotai force. The bright coral strips, bearing the picturesque names of Wama and Pitoe, were excellent targets for probing Japanese bombers in the moonlight, and one night a R.A.A.F. squadron of Bostons, dispersed round the strip, took a severe hammering. However, the sequel to this was unfortunate for the Japs, for, re-equipped with Beaufighters, the squadron evened the score and more.

The Japs' power of counter aerial attack was almost negligible by the time Group Captain C. R. ("Killer") Caldwell, D.S.O., D.F.C. and Bar, Polish Cross of Valour, flew over from Darwin with his Spitfires, which were to operate for the first time in this theatre. One of his young flyers, however, Flying-Officer Jack Pretty, of Melbourne, did have the satisfaction of shooting down a Japanese twin-engined bomber from 17,000 feet - just off the island on Christmas Eve.

Pounded by Beaufighters and Kittyhawks, even Oriental patience wilted in the face of the constant hammering which the R.A.A.F. handed out to the Jap bases in the Halmaheras and the northern Celebes. In addition to having no aircraft, the hapless enemy had no strips from which they could operate.

In the forefront of this airstrip knock-out programme were the ubiquitous P40s, better known to the general public as Kittyhawks, and known officially in the service as Warhawks.

This little dual-purpose fighter-bomber which first gained fame in the Western Desert, was flown by men who had made their name abroad and in the early and grim New Guinea campaign as fighter pilots-men like Squadron Leader John Waddy, D.F.C.; Group-Captain AV. S. Arthur, D.8.0., D.F.C.; Wing-Commander Geoff Atherton, D.F.C.; Squadron Leader J. R. "Congo" Kinninmont, D.F.C .

These men undertook daring missions over hostile Jungles and uncharted seas, ferreting out the Japs from their lairs, destroying their water transport, shooting up their camps, bivouac areas and trucks, wrecking their wireless installations, fuel and ammunition dumps and even, when business in these targets fell away, "sticking out their necks" to hammer Jap flak positions with bombs and machine guns.

The Kitties have been in the thick of the Pacific war from Milne Bay, right along the bases on the northern coast of New Guinea, over on Noemfoor and Biak islands, then into the Halmaheras, and finally over to Borneo.

Pacing it with the Kittyhawks, and employ their longer range to advantage, were the Beaufighters, and the Wing led by Wing Commander Charles Reed, D.F.C., of Vaucluse (N.S.W.), became a nightmare to the Japs. From Morotai they ranged down as far as Ceram and Ambon, and westward along the sprawling fertile Jap-infested Northern Celebes. Their specialty was bridges, barges and bivouacs.

It was a Beaufighter formation which staged the first raid on Kuching the administrative capital of Borneo.

Early in the New Year Spits, Kitties and Beaus formed the main components of the First Tactical Air Force, and for about three months they had to use all their ingenuity to find targets, as the Japs were decimated, scattered, and turned into a rabble.

For six months the First Tactical Air Force, operating under the 13th American Army Air Force, helped protect the under-belly of MacArthur's northward drive through the Philippines, preventing attack on supply routes to the Philippines by New Guinea, Halmahera, Celebes, and even Java-based Japanese aircraft. It was an important, exacting role, faithfully fulfilled.

There were many guesses where the next blow would fall on the beleaguered Japanese in the South-western Pacific.

Borneo was the target, and within three months of the first half of 1945, landings had been made on three widely separated Points-Tarakan, Labuan and Balikpapan, in that order-and Borneo was "sewn up" when bases were firmly established, strips built, and fighter-bombers ranged unmolested over the world's largest island.

At Brunei Bay, near Labuan, and Tarakan. our air force stood not at the gates, but at the geographical centre of enemy-occupied Celebes, Bali, Java, Sumatra, Malaya and Indo-China. From the three important Borneo bases the R.A.A.F. was positioned to destroy enemy garrisons piecemeal, and at will.

The R.A.A.F. mastery of the Borneo skies was the last thrust necessary to cut off and isolate from the Japanese Empire, the rich resources, the naval and air bases, and many thousands of ground troops, which the Japs had distributed as garrisons round these areas.

In the three Borneo landings R.A.A.F. units were either ashore or standing off the beachheads on D-day and personal comfort in one of the most enervating climates in the world was forgotten as airmen tore into the job of putting airstrips in order, and servicing and flying aircraft from them.

An important facet of the Borneo landings was the participation by R.A.A.F. heavy bombers in saturation raids on the intended landing points for days before the invasions. The flattening of coastal defences paved the way for bloodless landings by the A.I.F.

It was a masterpiece of planning and execution. When the R.A.A.F. moved to Borneo it cut loose from American control-an arrangement which had worked happily for so long in the intense New Guinea campaign. First with the 5th Air Force, and later with the 13th Air Force, the R.A.A.F. units were in
the van of the Allied advance. Just when the Borneo invasion began, also, Air-Commodore F. R. W. Scherger, D.S.O., A.F.C., resumed command from Air-Commodore A. H. Cobby, C.B.E., D.S.O., D.F.C. and 2 Bars, who had directed the First Tactical Air Force for ten months.

R.A.A.F. Command also moved to the operational area, and under Air Vice-Marshal W. D. Bostock, B.C., O.B.E., prepared the overall plan for the Borneo landings.

The lush, rich Celebes were bypassed by the first Borneo invasion force, which hit the Tarakan beachhead on May i. A tiny pear shaped island nestling off the swampy east coast of the sprawling Borneo mainland, an airstrip was wrested from the Japs, and made operational, after the famous 9th Division had won in the ground fighting.

Six weeks later, the Australians struck again, and R.A.A.F. units were early ashore when Labuan Island was hit, on the west coast of Borneo, following an intensive sixty-day bombing of the area by American and Australian heavies. Soon R.A.A.F. Kittyhawks and Spitfires were flying up and down the west coast of Borneo to the limit of their range in support of the A.I.F. which fanned out north and south and inland after securing the Brunei Bay base. Close support for this operation also was provided by R.A.A.F. fighters based on Tawi-Tawi, one of the most southern of the Philippines group.

The third Australian landing, and the first R.A.A.F. base to be established on the Borneo mainland, was at Balikpapan, the fabulously wealthy oil centre just south of Tarakan on the east coast. Here again R.A.A.F. Liberators made the long flight from the Morotai base to soften up the beachhead defences for 7th Australian Division to make the landing. Close on their heels once again were R.A.A.F. construction units, which soon had the spacious Sepinggang strip serviceable.

-After the Borneo bases were consolidated, the First Tactical Air Force really began to grow. First on the scene were Mosquitoes, and when Flying-Officer Sid Goddard, of Perth (W.A.), led two Beaufighters in to smash up an hotel in western Borneo, and with it a bunch of Jap officers enjoying a mid-morning snack. Mosquitoes came "on the record" at the end of July. It was the first Mosquito operational mission in the South-west Pacific apart from one or two reconnaissance flights. The rest of the wing then arrived on Labuan, and gave the Tactical Air Force a greatly increased punch, for the Mosquito is the world's most famous all-purpose aircraft.

The success of the great westward movement of the bulk of Australia's air power is attributable to one factor which, perhaps, weighed more importantly than any other in the advance.

This factor was the unfailing efficiency and loyalty of the "erk" - the ordinary airman. All the planning and all the materials in the Pacific would have been valueless had there not been thousands of young Australians to put the plans into effect and the materials into use.

The), could be found servicing aircraft on a sun-scorched strip, manning and maintaining the sensitive radio and signals equipment, handling clothing supplies in huge bulk, under an iron roof with the temperature round the 100 mark, performing marvels of ingenuity with monotonous tinned food, waging the never-ending paper war with unabated vigour, to the satisfaction of R.A.A.F. Headquarters and Air Board, keeping aircraft bombed up and serviceable in conditions which have to
be experienced to be believed, building roads, bridges, airstrips and encampments, and a host of other activities. All this and more they carried out under the most exacting conditions.

Their life in the tropics under war conditions was not easy. The heaviest cross they had to bear was the long parting from parents, wives and families-a gap which was partly filled by the exertions of very efficient postal units. Next there was the monotony of the climate and the landscape, and the daily task, so that entertainment enjoyed a high priority amongst the "musts" that had to be provided.

Then there were healthy young Australian appetites to be looked after-appetites which craved for "Mum's" cups of tea, or apple pie, roast beef and fresh vegetables. Spam, bully beef, black tea made from bore water, and often without sugar or milk, dehydrated potatoes, and all in the tropical sunshine, were a poor substitute.

Yet the ordinary airmen accepted these hardships philosophically. They had a job to do and proof of their skill and faithful application of brain and brawn to the task was evidenced by results.

Aircraft were always ready on time, checked and re-checked, bombed up and waiting for the pilots. Meals were produced regularly, although sometimes under difficulties, especially during the first few days after a new landing. There are far too many of them to even mention their names-nevertheless whatever their job, they did it efficiently and well under the most exacting campaigning conditions to be found anywhere in the world. The men who fly deserve all the glamour and publicity that can be focused on them, and wrenched from them, but there are thousands of unsung heroes of the ground staff who merit all the praise they usually don't get.

Airfield Construction Squadrons first cut their teeth on the dust of the Northern Territory and the mud of eastern New Guinea, but it was towards the end of 1944 and throughout 1945 that they really showed their mettle. Known more generally as R.A.A.F. engineers, these squadrons of specialists, under Group-Captains W. A. Dale, D.S.O., and D. J. Rooney, O.B.E., did not have a let-up throughout the year.

They always went in with the assault waves, for the construction of airstrips on newly won territory was a Number One priority in every move. They automatically became shock troops because the Pacific war had developed along a definite pattern, and the procedure on the landing soon became a drill-a landing with air cover provided from the last base, the seizure of the Jap strip or, if it was unsuitable, terrain which would lend itself to the construction of a strip, and finally its construction.

The target date for the delivery of these strips was necessarily a stiff one, but unless obstacles beyond the control of the engineers were met, the strips were ready for operation on time. Grim though the fighting of the land troops may be, and hazardous the aerial strikes, the engineers had commensurate difficulties to overcome, difficulties which would have been deemed insurmountable in pre-war civil
engineering.

Often in the face of determined air opposition, and under the constant danger of ground attack, they had to cope with jungle, swamp, shell and bomb craters, mines, torrential tropical rain, sizzling heat, breakdowns in plant, replacement difficulties, round-the clock shifts, mosquitoes, and lastly, but by no means least, the enervating climate and lack of proper fresh foods so necessary for those engaged anywhere on heavy manual work.

When Squadron-Leader Alan Bouch, of Castlemaine (V.), loaded his squadron on to L.S.Ts at Morotai, and joined an all-American convoy, they were embarking on a venture which would land them in the Philippines, and give them the honour of being the first Australians to go into action on American soil.

This unit was accorded the signal honour of being the only Australian formation selected for the important invasion of strategic Mindoro, an island lying just below Jap-occupied Luzon, and only 140 miles from the big Japanese air armada at Manila.

The daring of this master stroke of strategy, aimed to secure a base near Manila for the forthcoming occupation of Luzon, achieved the success it deserved. The Australians combined with American engineering teams to put down two strips in record time, and at the same time beat off attacks by clouds of Japanese bombers and fighters. The first three weeks on Mindoro were hectic, with the sorties against the Allied base running into hundreds.

The R.A.A.F. engineers were sent in with the first wave of assault troops, and also given 2000 yards of perimeter to defend in the opening stages. Fortunately, however, the ground opposition was light, but it was the first time the Australians had run into Japanese "kamikaze" squadrons. As one of the officers said later, "We treated them with ignore, because we had no time to waste getting the strips ready."

This squadron engaged in slogging round the-clock engineering works for the Americans on Mindoro for six months, eventually becoming self-styled "Shire Council of Mindoro". They were pulled out of the Philippines, only to be sent in to help with the construction of the tricky Tarakan strip in Borneo.

The importance of getting the Borneo strips ready as early as possible is indicated by the fact that the engineering personnel and plant was increased to two squadrons for each of the three landings.

It would seem that the whole set-up of the expanding and mobile Australian air formation was dependent on the existence of these engineers, especially raised and trained for carving airstrips out of swamp and jungle, although, of course, every unit has its importance in the whole machine. However, but for the spirit and solid work of the bulldozer operators, drivers of power shovels and a host of other specialists, the R.A.A.F. may have been whistling for their strips for much longer, and meantime being sitting pigeons for Japanese counter aerial strikes.

The success of the R.A.A.F.'s westward drive is attributable to the active and loyal cooperation of all units and all ranks. The fact that many cannot be given more than a passing reference, if that, even, does not lessen the importance of their job. Sea lanes were kept safe by the mine laying Catalinas and many an airman owes his life to the flying boats of the air-sea rescue service.

The indefatigable little Austers - so important in setting the artillery on the right track in the early days of an invasion-the Australian-built all-purpose Beaufort bombers, which carried bombs, personnel, leaflets, supplies and carried out photo reconnaissance as sidelines, reliable C47s of the transport command, which hauled men and mail from Australia to the most advanced bases, the Australian-built Boomerangs and Wirraways which have been of such assistance to the Army, the hard-hitting Boston bombers until they met their Waterloo on Morotai, to be replaced by Australian-built Beaufighters, the huge Liberators brought up from Darwin to carry out the important softening up of invasion points and even incongruously effective as artillery spotters before the Austers; could become airborne - all these types of aircraft have been used effectively in the Pacific campaign under the direction of Australia's First Tactical Air Force.

Several R.A.A.F. wireless-navigators had the distinction of taking part in bombing raids over island bases near the Japanese mainland. They were on special duty with a big American bomber group of the U.S. Fifth Air Force called the "Flying Circus", operating from a base in the Philippines. Flying as the only Australian member of an American Liberator, each wireless-navigator took part in many mass raids on Formosa and other Jap bases in East Asia.

The ancillary units on the ground are too numerous to mention, but each, in its way, right down to obscure little three or four man shows like Malarial Control units, have been cogs in a machine which has been in the van in prizing the Japanese from the south and south-west Pacific.

This then is the South-west Pacific Saga of the R.A.A.F.-a saga which contributed importantly to the grand climax of it all - in Tokyo.

FLIGHT-LIEUTENANT BERNARD GORDON