By Adolph P. Leirer of the 22^nd Bombardment Group

 

The following was written by 2/Lt Adolph P. Leirer, a newly assigned pilot to the 19^th Bombardment Squadron in mid-1943, then flying missions from Dobodura on New Guinea’s northern coast. The unit was flying B-26 Marauders at the time, and the article reads as freshly today as the year it was written – 1943. Surely the article underlines and contrasts for once and all the difference in standards between the living conditions in the Pacific and European theatres. It is a humorous yet serious article if you read between the lines. It is also descriptive – and accurate – as the author who lived in New Guinea will attest. Here it is in its entirety - Leirer’s account:

“As my two travelling companions and I checked into the 19th Squadron at Dobodura that hot and humid afternoon in July 1943, we had no idea as to what lay in store in the months ahead. Brand new officers, fresh from flying school, we figured that everything would be provided for us. Talk about green-horn shave-tails, we were it! We were told to check in with Squadron Supply for our gear, and upon doing so, were handed mess kits, mosquito bars, (nets) cots, woollen blankets and a. rotting pyramidal tent and told to find a spot in the Officers Area to erect it. We found the area in a semi-circle under the trees, facing a large kunai grass field. Since it was getting late and I wanted to get the tent up before dark, we selected the only cleared area in the field and set to work. None of us had even put up a pup tent before, and we found this tent no easy task, but finally got it up and our cots and netting into place. After chow, we stayed in the mess hall visiting with our buddies who had preceded us. It started to rain and our buddies made a mad dash for their tents, telling us that this was a nightly occurrence and once it started, it seldom stopped until morning.

We found our way in the dark and once inside, settled onto our cots for the long night ahead. Our only light was from the lightning flashes, so we soon dozed off, only to be awakened by a loud ripping noise, with part of the tent coming down around us. As our feet hit the ground, we found ourselves almost knee deep in water. Somehow, we managed to get the tent re-anchored, although one side had a tear from top to bottom. Stacking our soggy belongings on one cot, we spent the rest of the night launched on the other cots, occasionally measuring the depth of the lake with a finger held down from cot level. The next morning, we busied ourselves drying our gear and locating shoes and socks that had floated away. We had learned lesson number one and two; never tie your tent ropes tight and always select high ground!

Doug Green, Harry Dallas and myself picked the site for our permanent tent under the trees and Harry and I soon cleared the jungle growth with borrowed tools, while Doug scrounged around for building materials. We were the "stoop" labor; he was the requisitioner, and a good one too. When we checked with the supply sergeant, we found that the only tents left were two old two-man tents that had been turned in for salvage! We spread them at our new site and marked their size in the dirt, allowing for a few feet overlap where they would be joined. While we were getting the posts and poles from the jungle for the framework, Doug paid daily visits to the Thick ‘N Thin Lumber Co., near Oro Bay. The Thick ‘N Thin Lumber Co., operated by the Engineers, was aptly named, for a board that started out as a one by twelve, often ended up as a two by six on the other end. No two boards were ever the same! Grog was the main trading commodity, so he hunted around and round a bottle for sixty dollars, which was then traded for some lumber. Since we already had the posts in place, the floor soon became a reality, raising us a few feet out of the mud. The framework for the walls and roof soon followed, and then the tents, which gave us a room of about ten by sixteen feet. We were now beginning to luxuriate!

Doug was still busy requisitioning and we never knew whether he acquired his wares via a midnight requisition, a five-finger daylight discount or actual horse-trading, but he got them. We soon had nylon mosquito screening for the walls, complete with a recessed screen door held shut by a bungie cord from an aircraft landing gear. For hinges, we used leather cut from an old GI bout. Next came a table and benches and a three-drawer desk made from rough sawn half inch box boards, also from the Thick N Thin Co. Due to the capacity of the Generator, we were only permitted to have one forty-watt globe per tent. But we soon had a desk lamp with a tin can shade and two seventy-five watt globes. Frames from thin saplings were built over the cots to keep the mosquito bars stretched out, also providing overhead storage for our B-4 bags and other gear. Trips to the mainland brought forth gas lanterns, flashlights, and even a single burner gas stove. We now needed a kitchen addition, which was soon in place; a lean-to, the width of the tent and four feet deep, made with sisal-craft paper and screening. Doug decided that every kitchen required water, so he soon arrived with the necessary pipes, valves, fittings and a tap. We went to work on the main water line that ran behind our tent, on its way from the tank in the jungle to the mess hall. Somehow, we drilled a hole and tapped threads into that two or three inch pipe while it was under full pressure, and got a valve screwed in, nearly depleting the reservoir and drowning ourselves in the process. It was now a simple task to pipe the water into the kitchen where a five-gallon kerosene can, cut open edgewise, served as the sink. A relief tube was used as a drain to the outside. I'll wager we were the only tent in Dobodura with running water. We were now equipped for our nightly subsistence to supplement the monotonous and meager fare from the mess hall. With coffee, sugar, bread and marmalade that we pilfered from the mess hall, hidden under our shirts, and good tasting Maxim cheese, Arnott's Biscuits and canned fruit that we got from our little PX or brought from Sydney, we managed to stock up a small larder. Almost every night we enjoyed toasted cheese sandwiches, fruit and coffee. For the coffee, we boiled river water to avoid that horrible chorine taste. The crowning glory was the case of Australian canned whipped cream that Harry's brother-in-law provided. There must have been four or six dozen of the little four-ounce cans which were carefully rationed out over the fruit and into the coffee. The biscuits, really a semi-sweet cookie, were for dessert.

Soon, however, we were overwhelmed with rats, which required another trip to supply LQ borrow rat traps. The first night we caught five rats and could have had more, except we got tired of emptying and resetting the traps. They were monsters, measuring some twelve to fifteen inches from nose to tail and must have weighed a pound or more. They climbed up the framework and squeezed between the frame and roof canvas. Henceforth, we kept the food in sealed containers.

The soil was very fertile and seldom needed watering, so it was ideal for planting gardens for fresh produce. However, before these ideas could be implemented, seeds had to be acquired and by the time they arrived, rumors had us moving. Jake Basen, our squadron jack of all trades, (barber, gunner, souvenir hunter, etc.) did plant a squadron garden which produced some fresh greens.

I imagine that every camp had one or more of the white crested cockatoos as pets and pests. They were easily tamed, intelligent and even learned to speak a few words, usually profanity! Coming back from a mission one day we found the tent in shambles with every item that would crackle, rip or break, scattered and ruined throughout the tent, including hard to get stationary, razor blades and fountain pens. Also signs of "Cookie" were everywhere. We found him on the sink patiently awaiting each drop of water from the dripping faucet. We gave him a good going-over with a broom and threw him out the door where he stood and scolded us in no uncertain terms. We were furious at whoever put him in the tent and would have committed mayhem had we ever found out. Several days later, while alone in the tent getting some sack time, I heard the screen door rattle and looked to see who it was. It was 'Cookie', one foot on the door and the other pushing against the frame and once he spread the opening enough to get his head in, he pushed himself through. I ran him around the tent until I finally -got him by the neck and whirled him around and around in a desperate effort to wring his neck. No luck, he was just too tough so I threw him out the door again. He scolded me again, but this time he was too dizzy to stand up and he never came back, either.

And there were other creatures! All shapes and sizes and colors, seen and unseen. Probably the most bothersome was an unseen pest that got into your clothes at night. It felt like a wiry, woolly worm which emitted a slimy solution which burned like liquid fire when it touched your bare skin and left a burning red welt. It didn't take long to learn lesson number 3: Shake your clothing before donning them, however, during a red alert and hurried exit, that wasn't always possible and you suffered the consequences.

Chiggers were another unseen pest, getting onto your legs and burrowing into your skin to lay their eggs whenever you entered the grass or brush. They would begin to itch worse than a hundred mosquito bites and after many days, would finally fester to cause more problems. Clear finger nail polish would not only stop the itching but would also kill them and their eggs to avoid further aggravation. Since polish wasn't readily available in the jungle, we suffered for many months before Doug got some in the mail from home. In the meantime, lesson number 4: Tuck your pants into your socks when out in the bush and boil your socks when you got back.

A particular noisy and usually unseen critter took up residence in the upright post of my mosquito bar frame, about six inches from my left ear. This little sawdust factory would get to grinding in the dead of night when all was quiet and in the morning, the only evidence would be another exit hole about the size of a wooden match stick and a pile of sawdust on the floor. He annoyed me so much that I would set up with a flashlight, hoping to ambush him but all I even saw was the tip of his black head. I sprayed his head and filled the hole with a GI aerosol bomb called Buhack. Another time I made a small paper funnel and filled his hole with aviation gas till it ran out the bottom, all to no avail. I finally removed the post which by now was nothing but a tubular shell and dismantled it into shavings and still never found the sucker, so I set fire to the pile to make sure he paid the ultimate penalty.

Probably the most awesome sight 1 ever saw was a creature about six inches long that flew about as fast as one walks. It had a shiny black body about the size of a cigar with large protruding eyes and long feelers. It was equipped with a triple set of transparent wings that beat together in flight, making a chattering noise. It circled Doug and I as we were cutting some poles and landed on a nearby leaf where we examined it closely but with caution. Many years later I saw a picture of a similar bug while browsing in a library; it was labelled as a flying cockroach native to the tropics.

There were plenty of snakes but I only ever saw two, One day as Harry and I were heading for the river for our daily bath, we came to the gully behind the mess hall that had a fallen log as a bridge. Since there was no water in the gully, I continued on the trail while Harry negotiated the log. As we got partially across, we heard a thrashing sound in the tree limbs above and a thump as something hit the ground. Turning, I saw a snake about four feet long lying rather stunned on the ground between us and yelled, "Snake!" Harry, who hates snakes, took off on the dead run and never stopped until he was in the river. He was wearing those wooden shower clogs that were so popular and how anyone can run in them let alone cross a rounded log is beyond me. We often wondered if the snake had accidentally fallen out of the tree or was actually trying to land on us,

 

Another time as the three of us were returning to camp from a movie in a jeep with the black-out lights on, we encountered what we thought to be a small tree lying across the road. Doug jammed on the brakes but couldn't stop until the left front wheel was on top of it. A flashlight beam revealed a snake about four inches in diameter which was trying to take bites out of the tire while the other end was wailing around on the right side. After several shots with a .45 we finally subdued him and lashed it to the back of the jeep with a tire chain to drag it back to camp, It was some sixteen to eighteen feet long but I can't recall the species.

Boredom and disease were probably the greatest enemies we faced. Newspapers and magazines were almost non-existent and those few we had were leaf-worn. Endless card games of every description were the main time consumers and it wasn't unusual to see a thousand dollars in the pot of some of the high stakes poker games. Then we finally got the Officers Club built, we had a ping-pong table that was in constant use from daylight to dark. We didn't have a cleared area large enough for football or softball, so our only games were on other fields. We had outdoor movies once or twice a week provided the generator didn't give out or the rains came pouring, down. When that occurred, it was often necessary to go to another outfit later in the week for the conclusion. A few entertainers came through, namely Joe E. Brown, Bob Hope and those lovely Sydney Tivoli girls.

On his return from the first leave to Sydney, Doug brought back a large cabinet all-wave radio that must have weighed several hundred pounds and cost about as much, He had purchased it right out of the window at Nock & Kirby's, Pty., Ltd. We could hardly wait for the generator to come on to try it out. What a disappointment! It only picked up Radio Saigon and Macao Radio and constantly faded out. Even with a long antenna hanging from the trees, we never could receive an Australian station, although once, through a freak atmospheric condition, we received the Westinghouse station from San Francisco. It wasn't long before the wooden cabinet warped and buckled and the set refused to operate on short wave. After we moved to Nadzab, Armed Forces Radio operated a ten record station that featured "Paper Doll'' and we finally enjoyed the radio.

Malaria, dengue fever, yaws, elephantiasis and fungus infections were the most prevalent diseases, Daily Atabrine tablets usually suppressed the malaria attacks, but many still required hospitalisation. Fungus usually occurred in the ears from contaminated river water and sometimes would spread to other areas causing infectious blisters that resembled small clusters of grapes. Funguses were so prevalent that it wasn't unusual to see inch long hairy growths protruding from the shoes you had taken off the night before.

One day, a native fuzzy-wuzzy from a nearby village came by with a primitive type of wheelbarrow with lopsided stone wheels offering to trade bananas for cigarettes. He wore a large burlap loincloth that extended up over the back half of the barrow and covered what we thought to be more bananas. He never left his position between the handles while we dickered price. It was only after he left that that we noted one leg resembling an elephant's leg and it was his scrotum that occupied the rest of the barrow. I used a stick to throw the bananas into the jungle and then washed my hands many times over.

I understand that one of the first squadron casualties was caused by the explosion of a still in which someone was brewing up a batch of jungle juice. These brews were made from every conceivable source -- from dehydrated potatoes to bananas and packed a wallop like a kick of a mule, often with unpredictable results.

One night in a neighbouring tent, the two occupants who shall remain nameless, got tanked up and into a heated argument. One was an Indian and the other had a rather protruding nose. The Indian was chasing The Nose around the tent with a large double-bladed axe. Their tent was a well constructed screened one with a table anchored in the middle and some type of elaborate latch on the door. Each time The Nose passed the door, he made a hasty swipe at the latch, hoping to make a quick exit on he next round. This went on for several minutes until the Indian made a desperate lunge across the table with the axe, burying it in the table-top while The Nose made a new doorway out the back! The next day, after the hangovers subsided, and they remained friends and tent mates.

Mail from home, rumors or scuttlebutt and long anticipated leaves to the mainland were the main morale builders. The mail took at least a month to get there, with packages taking up to six months.

Rumors were endless and often humorous, They ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous, with each party adding their interpretations By the time it got back to the original source, it was a new rumor. An example would be the night that Wash-machine Charlie, so named for his unsynchronised engines, came over. He dropped some bombs near a village where a native sing-sing for a wedding was in progress and the fires made a visible target. The next morning these bombs worked their way down the road to an ack-ack outfit; thence to the beach at Oro Bay where a hospital was hit, next to a Liberty ship and finally, that evening, it was gospel truth that the mail boat had been sunk, with every piece of Christmas mail for all the troops in New Guinea! Si Alper, for one can verify where those bombs did land, for he was there, about to be betrothed to the Chief's daughter! (That's my version!)

One rumor making the rounds was that McArthur had promised a hot turkey dinner with all the trimmings on Christmas Day. This rumor appeared so factual that we thought we saw them hanging in the kitchen the night before. And even more realistic when we smelled them roasting during breakfast the next morning. At mid-morning we were called on an emergency mission to assist the troops invading Cape Gloucester. When we returned in mid-afternoon, the flight crews made a mad dash for the mess hall to find it completely deserted. Not one mess attendant, cook or dishwasher dared show their face, for it would have meant instant mayhem. Instead of a hot turkey dinner, there were two large hunks of cold bully beef, right out of the can with the gelatine and all and not even sliced. Back in our tents we listened while those not on the mission spread more rumours about second and third helpings and even feeding turkey to their dogs but to us, these were strictly rumours.

Another rumour that circulated for months turned out to be quite true. it was that we would soon lose our B-26's and go to Australia for training in other planes. That became a reality or January 9th when we returned from a mission to Erimahafen Plantation near Bogadjim, Major Greer called an assembly and told us that we would be flying the 26's to Charters Towers on the 11th to begin B-24 training. This was met with mixed reactions, for some didn't care for the 24's and others weren't in love with the 26s.

It meant leaving our abodes that we had called home for the past six months. However humble, they had been constructed to fit our needs with dexterity, ingenuity, hard work, and even a little thievery. On the other hand, it meant steak and eggs, chips, warm beer and cold milk -- and maybe even girls! Besides, some of the posts supporting the floor had started to grow making the floor uneven and sawdust factories were working on the flooring.

The next statement by the Major met with some Bronx cheers, for 'he ordered that the tents be left intact, taking only our personal gear as a Troop Carrier outfit would be moving in. None of the combat crews liked the troop carrier boys. It was rumored that they got Air Medals for flights across the Coral Sea, D.F.C.s for negotiating the Owen Stanleys and went home after 25 missions to Townsville! And Doug Green hated them the most after they confiscated a case of his gin coming back from Sydney. On the morning we left, he was the last one out of the tent. As he backed out, he stuck a saw between the floorboards and sawed the girders off. The first one in would find himself on the ground !”

 

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