Ship histories and stories

Occasional Paper 96: RAN Encounters with Papua New Guinea’s Big Rivers

November 18, 2020

By David Michael

The passing of Commodore Sam Bateman RAN, (Rtd) in October 2020 reminded many people of his Command of the PNG based patrol boat, HMAS Aitape and its significant 1969 passage up Sepik River. As Aitape was not the first or only RAN vessel to navigate PNG’s big rivers this paper provides a summary of big river encounters by other RAN ships.

The Sepik River

The Sepik River flows 1,100 km through Papua New Guinea and Indonesia. Today it remains largely undeveloped and pristine. Exploration of the region by Europeans commenced soon after establishment of German protectorate (Kaiser-Wilhelmsland) in 1884. Formerly the Kaiserin Augusta, the Sepik is one of the largest rivers on the island of New Guinea. It rises in the central highlands of PNG and flows north-westward (crossing just over the border into the Indonesian portion of the island) and then, turning east, follows the great Central Depression, receiving numerous tributaries draining from mountains to the north and the Central Range to the south before entering the Bismarck Sea through its delta. It drains an area of some 77,700 square km. For most of its lower course the river meanders through a wilderness of palm swamp and lagoons with large floating islands of vegetation drifting in the channel. The amount of sediment carried down this channel is so great that the waters of the ocean are discoloured for 32 km beyond the mouth, which is more than 1.6 km wide. The river is navigable for more 480 km by vessels drawing 4 metres of water or less, and by canoe for some 900 km.

Fly River

The Fly River is one of the largest rivers of the island of New Guinea, flowing almost wholly through Papua New Guinea. For a short stretch of its middle course, it forms the border between Papua New Guinea and Indonesian. Rising in the Victor Emanuel Range in the central highlands, the Fly—fed by its principal tributaries, flows south and southeast for more than 1,100 km to the Gulf of Papua and the Coral Sea. It drains an area of some 69,900 square km. The river was named by F.P. Blackwood, captain of the ship HMS Fly, who explored the estuary in 1842. The lower reaches of the river are navigable for 850 km in all seasons for boats drawing less than 2.4 metres of water. There are few settlements of any size along the river, but a port at the town of Kiunga, some 490 miles (790 km) inland, ships copper and gold mined in the Star Mountains. Environmental degradation along the upper course of the river system caused by the mining activity has been a source of political tension in the area.

River Passages by RAN Vessels

The March 2016 edition of the Naval Historical Review carried a story by Leyland Wilkinson entitled ‘River Cruises and the Big River’ described two wartime passages by RAN vessels up the big rivers of PNG.

He wrote, ‘Probably the most memorable however, was the 193 miles (310 km) passage up the Sepik River in Papua New Guinea in December 1914 during WWI by HMA Ships Parramatta, Warrego and Nusa, while HMAS Yarra guarded the river entrance. They were directed inland to search for any German military presence, passing along unknown waters that were home to crocodiles, disease carrying insects, and indigenous natives with cannibalistic tendencies, apart from any possible enemy action. Again, at the end of WW II, after the Japanese surrender in October 1945, the patrol boat ML 1347 under the command of LEUT Marsden Hordern, RANVR transited more than 130 miles (210 km) up the Sepik to Kanduonum in search of Japanese forces and Australian POWs.’

‘Possibly the longest river transit was undertaken by the LCH HMAS Tarakan, commissioned in June 1973 under the command of LEUT Chris Ritchie, RAN, a future Chief of Navy. In September of that year she visited PNG and undertook a 490 mile (790 km) passage up the Fly River to the river port of Kiunga where PNG Defence Force vehicles were embarked and transported to Port Moresby.’

Two letters were latter received by the Society in response to Leyland Wilkinson’s article.

Vice Admiral Chris Ritchie wrote ‘I was pleasantly surprised to see mention of HMAS Tarakan’s transit up the Fly River as possibly the longest river transit undertaken by a ship of the RAN.

It certainly was a memorable task; five and a half days in the river to reach Kiunga, a fast river assisted a three-day return trip, a few unplanned beachings and a bow door literally hanging on by a thread as a consequence of a heavy south easterly swell as we left the river and entered the Gulf of Papua.

My purpose in writing, however, is to correct the record a little and share the honour with HMAS Wewak. Wewak, under the command of LEUT George Scown, RAN had taken the engineering team to Kiunga a few months before our passage. The river levels had then become too low to extract the equipment and personnel once their work was completed so they had an enforced wait in Kiunga until it was deemed possible for another LCH to make the trip. Tarakan got the job and was in the Fly River from 4 to 13 September 1974.

HMAS Wewak departing the port of Lae in Papua New Guinea in 2007 during Operation PNG ASSIST for villages affected by floods after Cyclone Guba. RAN image/

Tarakan had been on her way back to Brisbane after performing a similar extraction of equipment for the army from Belawan in Northern Sumatra to Darwin. LCH’s certainly got around in those days. We shall miss them!

Commodore Sam Bateman wrote the following letter which provided more detail about the 1969 passage of HMA Ships Aitape and Ladava up the Sepik River.

‘The article by Leyland Wilkinson doesn’t really capture the full extent of activity by RAN vessels in the rivers of Papua New Guinea in the 1960s and early 1970s.

On the Sepik, Attack Class patrol boats of the PNG Division of the RAN made several visits during this period to the river port of Angoram about fifty river miles upstream. Then in February 1969, HMA Ships Aitape and Ladava ascended the river as far as the Government station of Ambunti about 230 river miles from the mouth of the Sepik. This was about thirty miles further upstream from the point reached by HMA Ships Parramatta and Warrego in 1914.

An account of the passage by Aitape and Ladava is available on the film ‘Navigating the Sepik’. I was in command of Aitape at the time and the late Peter Blenkinsop the Ladava.

Voyages by patrol boats into the Sepik stopped in the 1970s due to concerns about the risks of propeller damage from floating logs. These risks were higher if the patrol boats steamed on both engines while in the river. While the Aitape and Ladava encountered numerous floating islands of debris and logs during their passage up river to Ambunti, they steamed mostly on one engine and avoided any underwater damage. The theory was that having two shafts under power doubled the risks of a serious log strike – perhaps even more with the risks of one driving shaft throwing a log into the other driving shaft.

On the Fly, LCDR Jerry Lattin took the patrol boats Aitape and Ladava up the river to Kiunga in 1970. Jerry commanded Aitape and the late Dave Angus the Ladava. There is an account of this passage in Ian Johnston’s Historic RAN Voyage up the Fly River, Australian External Territories, Vol. 11, No.3, July-September 1971, pp. 19-22.

One of Jerry’s multifarious jobs after leaving the RAN was to command small bulk carriers on the Fly River and elsewhere between Bangkok and Townsville. The main role of these vessels was to carry copper-concentrate downstream from the Ok Tedi mine to the mouth of the Fly where the concentrate was transhipped into larger bulk carriers for export overseas. Jerry wrote about his experiences with navigating the Fly in an article in The Journal of the Australian Naval Institute (Shiphandling Corner – Brown Water Mariners – Cargo Ships on the Fly River, The Journal of the Australian Naval Institute, Vol. 28, No. 3, Spring 2002, pp. 33-38).

There were other voyages up the river to Kiunga in the 1970s by RAN LCHs, as well as the one mentioned by HMAS Tarakan in Leyland’s article. I travelled down river myself from Kiunga in Wewak under the command of LEUT George Scown in 1973, if I remember correctly. Before going up the Fly, Wewak also entered the Bamu River, an adjacent river to the Fly flowing into the Gulf of Papua. The Bamu has a strong bore in it and we experienced it in rather dramatic circumstances one night. Wewak was beached on the river bank when the bore came up the river. Effectively, it’s like an instant high tide and the ship was swept bodily sideways off the bank. Fortunately, George had the situation under control with main engines running and special sea dutymen closed up in anticipation of the bore’s arrival, and no damage was done.

The work of RAN vessels in opening up the Fly to river transport associated with the Ok Tedi mine is acknowledged in the seminal article The Fly River: A Continuing Hydrographic Challenge by P. Done, published in the International Hydrographic Review, Monaco, Vol. LXII (2), July 1985.’

References:

Encyclopaedia Britannica online, available at, https://www.britannica.com/

Leyland Wilkinson, River Cruises and the Big River, Naval Historical Review March 2016, available at https://www.navyhistory.org.au/river-cruises-and-the-big-river-2/

HMAS Aitape, Seapower Centre Australia, available at https://www.navy.gov.au/hmas-aitape

Navigating the Sepik, Defence Public Relations, Video, available at https://www.navy.gov.au/history/videos/navigating-sepik

Occasional Paper 80: The Early Years (1970-1971) of HMAS Brisbane (DDG-41)

June 24, 2020

The following paper was delivered by Captain Ralph T Derbidge MBE RAN (Retired) at a reunion (mostly of commissioning crew members and those who deployed to the Vietnam War in the ship in 1969 and 1971). His address was made on 9 May 2018 at Maroochydore, Queensland. It describes a mix of personal experience and memorable anecdotes about his time in the ship.

NUSHIP Brisbane is presently undergoing post-construction trials and is scheduled to be commissioned into the Royal Australian Navy on 27 October 2018. She will be the third ship to bear the name BRISBANE in the history of the RAN.

NUSHIP Brisbane at sea during builders trials viewed from her sister ship, HMAS Hobart.

Her namesake, HMAS Brisbane II (DDG-41), pictured below was commissioned in Boston, USA on 16 December 1967, de-commissioned in Sydney on 19 October 2001 and sunk as a dive site to seaward of Maroochydore on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast on 31 July 2005. Her Battle Honours were Vietnam 1969 and 1971 and Kuwait 1991. One of her 5-inch/54 gun mounts and her bridge are preserved at the Australian War Memorial in Canberra as an interactive display, part of the Conflicts 1945 to Today exhibition. Her mast forms the centrepiece of an impressive memorial at Alexander Headland overlooking the dive site.

You could always tell a DDG commissioning crew-cum-Vietnam War sailor – but you couldn’t tell him much. They were good, and they knew it. There aren’t that many of the breed around anymore – witness tonight. And that goes for the ships they served in. All said and done, they were destroyers and neither we nor anybody else are building steam driven destroyers the way they used to.

HMAS BRISBANE (2) CHARLES F. ADAMS CLASS DDG 1967-2001-SPC-0026

Do not be deluded – the RAN’s new DDGs, including NUSHIP Brisbane, can be viewed almost as cruisers, bigger than the light cruisers of WW 2 and, of course, able to deliver much more of a bang for the buck.

And what really defines a destroyer? Let me remind you. It was not always fair winds and a following sea. Nothing short of an iron stomach was sufficient for withstanding a destroyer’s motion. Destroyers could list 45 degrees off keel. The motion of a destroyer at sea is not just up and down but more like a corkscrew churning through water. Our Brisbane could do that, usually at meal hours!

I have been called upon to deliver formal speeches concerning our beloved DDG-41 on a number of occasions – at the sinking of the ship as a dive-wreck to seaward nearby, at the dedication of the splendid mast memorial also near at hand and more recently at the moving plaque dedication ceremony at the Australian War Memorial in Canberra. Our ship features also in a lecture I have given frequently on the RAN in the Vietnam War. Some may view this as a bit odd for I did not command the ship. I was simply the Gunnery Officer through 1970 and 1971.

I really wasn’t intended to serve in that role at all. Previously, I had been the Gunnery Officer of four ships, Anzac, Quiberon, HMS Llandaff while on exchange with the RN, and Vampire – all with British systems and 4-inch or 4.5-inch ammunition and none missile armed, but I knew my stuff. I was serving in Vampire on the screen in the South China Sea in 1969 when Melbourne collided with the USS Evans. Brisbane at this time was on her first Vietnam deployment. One outcome of the collision was an eventual shuffling around of RAN ship commanding officers. Vampire’s CO was shifted to Stalwart, the Executive Officer took over command and I found myself as both Gunnery Officer and the First Lieutenant of D-11 that was soon to undergo a major half-life modernisation.

Then came the unexpected – a pierhead jump to Brisbane in early 1970 because of the resignation around the same period of six RAN gunnery officers, the names of which some of you may recall – Atkins*, Bartlett, Brett-Young, Marrable, Mellish and Playford. This left Officers’ Postings with few options.

I wasn’t too impressed, having been at sea for most of the 1960s, recently married while serving in Vampire and looking forward to some long-overdue shore time. Moreover, I had had no DDG training or experience but was told I could handle it and to get on with it. And so, while Brisbane and Vampire were in maintenance periods, it was into the Tartar missile system books and hardware with David Kitchen and Peter Flynn* and out to HMAS Watson for advice from John McDermott on the Mk 68 gunnery system and 5-inch ammunition.

I managed to get in some brief sea-riding in Perth out of Sydney. On leaving harbour, I sensed things were going to be different when I heard the pipe, “Able Seaman Bloggs report to the wild cat flat!” I turned, puzzled, to the newly joined Chief Boatswains Mate, the legendary Warrant Officer QMG ‘Butch’ Berry*, who explained, “That’s the cable locker. I’m trying to weed out all of this American stuff but I don’t think I will have much joy with turrets instead of gun mounts!”

Enough of this pre-amble – rather than continue in a ‘boots-and-braces’ mode, I have chosen to recall for you some memorable anecdotes about my time in the ship. And, dear ladies, be forewarned – the still handsome hunk of a man here tonight on your arm may not have been the saint you always thought him to be. I will conceal the names of the guilty where relevant in order to protect the innocent. Sadly, in both cases, and others identified in this narrative, many have crossed the bar.

I moved my goods and chattels from Vampire into Brisbane, joining mid-week in Garden Island Dockyard in that summer of 1970 and taking up residence in Cabin 4 forward with Ian MacDougall, the Operations Officer. I was told there was not much sleep left in the bunk vacated by John McDermott. The CO then was the admirable Captain John D Stevens*[i], he having recently relieved Captain Alan A Willis*.

I was the overnight Duty Executive Officer on the Friday night of that first week onboard and aware I was to attend with my wife with other guests a dinner party on the following night in the Wardroom, to be hosted by Captain Stevens and his wife.

On the Saturday morning, well before ‘Call the Hands’, I was abruptly shaken by a very agitated Duty Petty Officer who blurted out, “They’ve broken into the Beer Store!”.

Still half-asleep, I asked “Who, what, where, when?” not having any idea where the Beer Store was at the time.

“The Stokers!” he replied.

I dressed quickly and followed the PO down to the after Stokers’ Mess where I found duty watch bodies and others in all states of undress, asleep in all manner of positions and places and many snoring loudly. Empty beer cans and plates were strewn everywhere. On further inspection, it was discovered that, during the night, the bolts of the hinges to the adjacent heavy steel door giving access to the redundant Tartar missile maintenance barbette (used as the Beer Store) had been knocked out and the door swung open on its large padlock. Nirvana lay ahead for the burglars.

But wait, there’s more to come, and it got worse. The beer was warm.

“There’s ice in the ice-cream room,” said one of the ring-leaders. The ice cream room lock was duly forced and, once inside, the perpetrators couldn’t believe their luck. There, laid out on a bench, was more than a dozen plates with a delectable sweet dish on each. What a treat, and something to be washed down with the soon to be chilled beer.

The subsequent revelry apparently went on long into the silent hours until most fell into a paralytic slumber. The revellers did not know it at the time, but the consumed sweet dishes had been carefully prepared by the chefs on the Friday and placed in the locked ice cream room overnight, to be served up as desserts at the impending Captain’s dinner party.

The revellers also did not know that they were in the process of ruining my whole day for the resultant investigation, with Naval Dockyard Police assistance, went on well into the Saturday afternoon. Moreover, I had to arrange for a local catering firm to provide replacement desserts for the dinner party. At the subsequent assizes, when the Captain was very lenient overall, the guilty showed little contrition for purloining the beer but were most remorseful over misappropriating the Captain’s desserts.

For a while there onboard, the Stokers were not top of my hit parade but a few G & Ts from the then MEOs, the irrepressible Warwick Robinson* and the laconic Ian Watson, placated me and all was soon forgiven.

And so the ship sailed for a shakedown in the East Australia Exercise Area (EAXA) at the end of the maintenance period, with many new personnel embarked following the return from the 1969 Vietnam deployment. A busy year lay ahead in Australian waters. At the end of 1970, Captain Stevens was relieved by Captain R Geoffrey Loosli* during a maintenance period. At the same time, there was another sizeable change of personnel. By this time, the ship’s company knew that Brisbane would be returning to Vietnam and the Gunline from March to October of 1971.

Work-up for the deployment began early in the new year. During the first run of the first AA practice firing under Captain Loosli’s command, the aircraft towed sleeve target was quickly destroyed in spectacular fashion early in the first run by one of the automatically fired salvo of shells. On the horizon, shortly after, could be seen a number of exploding shells followed by the sound of muffled explosions. The Captain, quite pleased by the target destruction, nonetheless queried the source of the horizon explosions. I replied that there must be another ship in the exercise area perhaps firing HE shells at a surface target.

The Captain seemingly bought this at the time. The aircraft, minus target, was released to return to base and the serial terminated. There was little left to do but return to the magazines unexpended shells from the gun mounts. I looked down from the Gun Direction Platform to observe shells being unloaded from Mount 51 and stacked on the forecastle shot mats. They bore the wrong colour coding for the firing. Horror of horrors – it was HEVT ammunition and not VT Prac shells. Despite the Firing Orders for the practice and my preliminary policy broadcast, the magazine crew had fed the wrong ammo to Mount 51. I looked the other way, said nothing to the Captain as the shells were carried below, and months later wrote off the ammo in a Gunline mission off Vietnam. This mistake was never repeated, and a good thing too, for the crew of target towing aircraft are not at all keen on the idea!

The Captain might have guessed for there is a cartoon titled Workup 71 – First AA Shoot that appears on page 35 of the HMAS BRISBANE 25th Anniversary commemorative book published in 1992.

The cartoon unmistakably depicts me reporting to the equally recognisable Captain Loosli sitting in his chair on the bridge after the shoot. The included caption has me stating, “Oh it’s easy to tell they’re not live rounds, Sir. We’d be wearing steel helmets if they were!”

The workup proceeded smoothly and the last box to be ticked was a successful Overall Readiness Evaluation. The Navigation Officer, Colin Bartlett, and I felt sure we would get a counter battery call for fire while bombarding Beecroft at night during the Final Battle Problem. So, beforehand, and by devious means, we had obtained the grid co-ordinates of just about every likely target (old tram cars and vehicles etc) on the peninsular range. These were printed, given alphabetical designators and a copy provided to Gun Plot for pre-loading into the surface gunnery system.

Sure enough, such a call came through from ashore at which point I requested the Captain to put the wheel hard over, increase to full speed and head due east to seaward while I simultaneously initiated counter battery fire. As the ship heeled over and gathered speed, I got the nod from the NO and CO, barked into the mike to Gun Plot, “Counter battery – Target Delta – Mount 52, six rounds HEPD, fire for effect – engage”. This all happened quite quickly, which was the whole point of the exercise.

With the rounds in the air, a startled Fleet Training Group observer burst into the Operations Room and screamed, “Who said anything about firing live rounds?” Moments later, over the shore bombardment net, the spotter reported loud and clear, “Good shooting. Target destroyed. Bravo Zulu!” Nothing further was said by the FTG observer, at least not to me!

And so, the ship subsequently sailed north from Sydney, acquitted herself well on the seven months Vietnam deployment while firing some 7,000 rounds on the Gunline and returned home in October to be the last RAN ship to be so deployed in that war. Early in the new year, the ship was awarded the Gloucester Cup for 1971 and I finally had my shore time at the Australian Embassy in Washington DC, USA. And the rest, they say, is history.

Maybe, but not quite. For not forgotten by some was Cebu City in the southern Philippines where the ship made a two day port call towards the end of the deployment prior to a final period on the Gunline. The legacy of that so-called goodwill visit could have been disastrous for the ship and her reputation. Common sense prevailed and the bad news was kept in-house and out of the official record.

The impending drama began on the first day with the ship berthed portside to at a large godown with no perimeter fence and little local external security. That afternoon, prior to an official reception onboard, the city Police Chief visited and asked to see the Gunnery Officer. I offered him tea and sandwiches in the Wardroom during the course of which he asked me if I would like to go flying with him in his private aircraft the next day. Then came the catch – in return I might provide him with some small arms ammunition, both pistol and rifle. He explained that the paranoid President Marcos, fearing a coup, had emasculated the nation’s police force by denying them ammunition for their weapons. As diplomatically adept as could be, I thanked him for his flying invitation, told him I was required onboard for duty the next day and declined firmly his bid for ammunition. He persisted but eventually accepted my stand and I farewelled him at the gangway.

During both nights in port, better notice might have been taken by more senior duty personnel of small waterborne craft in the vicinity of the ship and sailors casually, and apparently innocently, fishing over the outboard starboard side with rods and handlines.

Senior management was no doubt relieved to be free of Cebu City when course was set for Vietnam across the South China Sea. The aforementioned drama unfolded on that first evening on passage when the Coxswain got an anonymous phone call that suggested there was a number of illegal pistols in the ship. The caller revealed the concealed location of one of them. It was duly found – a cheap .38 ‘Saturday-night special’. The XO, Ted Keane*, was informed who in turn advised the CO. Captain Loosli was under no illusions about the adverse impact this would have if such a weapon was uncovered by Customs or another authority on return to Australia. He immediately ordered Clear Lower Deck and a locker search of all junior personnel. A number of pistols came to light, primarily because an amnesty was declared – hand them in or ditch them over the side and there will be no repercussions. By the following day, the CO and XO were reasonably confident the menace no longer existed.

Several days later, during a lull in Gunline missions, the Petty Officer in charge of the Gunner’s Party reported to me that a quantity of small arms ammunition was missing from the magazine. The Cebu City Police Chief apparently had found his man. I consulted with the XO and we both agreed that the CO should be spared another heart-stopping report.

I had the greatest respect and admiration for the hard-working Gunner’s Party throughout the deployment but I suspected that one of them had to be the culprit. The team members had ready access to the magazine keys. All of the party members were stared down and grilled at length in turn by the XO, me and the Coxswain but we were unsuccessful in extracting a confession. In the absence of any incriminating hard evidence, the matter was put on the back-burner and eventually dropped, the Captain was left in peace and we got on with the business at hand with the main armament. After detaching from the Gunline for the last time, the Gunnery Log recorded the conduct of several recreational small arms firings during the fortnight’s passage home.

In a moment we will hear a replaying of our RAS song, Proud Mary, after which I will ask you to stand and join me in a toast to our ship and absent and departed shipmates, of whom there are many.

There was always some conjecture about how the ship adopted the song. I remember quite clearly. It came about during a Wardroom run ashore with the Captain to one of the naval base clubs following our first arrival at Subic Bay for the turn-over with Perth. A Filipino band was playing the Credence Clearwater Revival version of the song which many of us at the club that night had not heard before. Hal Thomsett turned to the Captain and excitedly declared, “That should be our RAS song!” We all agreed and the Captain said, “Make it so!”

Further Reading

Naval Operations in Vietnam, by Jozef Straczek, Sea Power Centre-Australia, available at https://www.navy.gov.au/history/feature-histories/naval-operations-vietnam

Crew List HMAS Brisbane 1st & 2nd Deployments: 1969 and 1971 available at http://www.gunplot.net/main/content/crew-list-hmas-brisbane-1st-2nd-deployments

Video of Interest

Royal Australian Navy: HMAS BRISBANE RAS and Breakaway featuring Proud Mary, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YbLHS7Z6Tic

[i] * All deceased

Occasional Paper 79: The Loss of HMAT Ballarat

June 24, 2020

The following are personal accounts by soldiers embarked in the transport ship HMAT Ballarat on 25 April 1917.
Both stories were published on Thursday 19 July 1917 in the Bendigonian Newspaper, Bendigo Victoria.

Written by Corporal R. J. Neave to P. McCahill, of Yalook, Victoria.

Well, old boy, no doubt you will have heard the thrilling news of the loss of the old Ballarat in the ocean. The 25th was Anzac Day. We were to have a holiday. At 1.15 we were issued our water proof sheets. I had just mounted the gangway, and was on deck, when suddenly the sentry said to me, ‘Look!’ and about 600 yards out on the right a white streak, about two yards wide, was coming through the water at us, about the pace of a very fast train, 50 to 60 miles an hour.

No need to wonder what it was. Too well we knew. I shall never forget that white bluish streak tearing along towards us. The officer on the bridge had been already warned, as the boat was slowly turning; but far too slow and too late. The white streak rapidly neared us, and it seemed to be coming right for the middle of the boat, but instead of catching us in the centre, it rushed towards the stern, when ‘Bang!’ I stood firm for the shock, but was thrown off my feet.

A number of our chaps were down in the hold part of the boat, and they said the flour was blown in all directions, whilst the cookhouse was blown to pieces. In the washhouse part the basins were all shattered to pieces, windows in all parts of the boat were broken, and they are thick gloss too. The boat alarm went immediately. This is the most thrilling part of all, and, I am proud to be an Australian, and no doubt you or anyone else would be if you saw the way the brave lads went to their posts.

The officers called out, ‘Don’t rush boys, be steady.’ They all went to their places quickly and fell in line as on all ordinary boat parades. The destroyer, which then came up, could not stop to help us, for the submarine could be plainly picked out. The sailors told us that she had an adjustable periscope, one to pop up and down in a second. Many of our boys saw the periscope from time to time, and the destroyer dodging to get at her. The submarine during these manoeuvres tried to get a second torpedo in. We all expected a second torpedo, but the first was doing its work well enough.

All of us were in line in our places, and could see the destroyer and submarine tactics. We could receive no help from the destroyer while the submarine was about, the former being fully occupied in trying to get the submarine. The ship’s officers got off about 20 boats, and the boys allotted to these boats filled them and put off. About 15 more boats then put off. The boats then jammed, and no others could be got away. All that were left, all in line, stood waiting for the end. Not one boy broke the ranks. It was splendid discipline on the part of all the boys, and it was grand to see how well they stood.

The boats that were filled were now away out in circles around us all well filled up. An aeroplane now arrived buzzing around and using the heliograph. The Ballarat was by this time well on her side, and it was hard to stand owing to the list to port (left side), besides her bow was high up in front, and out of water, with her stern down. The submarine was still about. If the submarine could have got the destroyer, we would all have been shelled in the water, so all the sailors said.

A little later and the water was now in our troop deck, where we lately ate and slept. About three-quarters of an hour after all of us had our boots un laced with laces out ready for when she was to take the final plunge. Everything had been thrown overboard – chairs, boards, boxes, planks, life buoys, and anything that would float. Some of the lads who had been working at the boats went over, and were in the water. They were the last of the companies in the boats that put off.

HMAT Ballarat Just after being torpedoed 1

At 1 pm suddenly on the horizon a speck of smoke was seen, and five minutes later another. We then knew help was coming quickly, but doubted whether they would reach us in time. The destroyers were racing about 40 miles an hour to the rescue. A French aeroplane also arrived. Two aeroplanes were also with us, both continually buzzing overhead and heliographing. The old Ballarat was lying in the same position with the distress signals floating from her tilted mast. The steam was pouring out through the rents by the explosion in the cook house, in the stern part, and the gun lay on its side dismounted by the explosion.

The destroyer rushed for the side of the boat, throwing up ropes. The sailors shouted, ‘Come on, boys. Quick, quick, quick quick’. They kept shouting ‘Jump for your lives.’ Then for the first time the officers called on us, ‘Go on, boys, quick, for God’s sake,’ and down the scores of ropes hanging from the side we slid. Hands were burnt by the ropes, and the boys let go and dropped on to mats, cushions, mattresses, and all kinds of things prepared. This was on the starboard side of the old Ballarat.

In less than five minutes all were off, and we were away. As we moved off, the brave old colonel stood on the bridge and saluted us. The other torpedo destroyer was picking up occupants of the crowded boats. Our boat took on board in less than five minutes 723 soldiers. (That is quicker than we went aboard, don’t you think?) We moved off, keeping about 500 or 600 yards away, when we raced round and round the old troopship as she still lay in the same position. Our boat was crowded. We all sat on deck, legs dangling along the edge, with a wire rope (railing) alongside. Every yard of space was crowded by the boys.

This was the picture at 4 o’clock. Two seaplanes buzzing about, one French one British, and many destroyers passing close by. Empty little boats of the Ballarat were rocking about at their own will on the Atlantic waves. The destroyer beside our own, crowded with khaki-clad forms, and in the centre the poor old troopship that had been our home for 65 days. One of the seaplanes dropped six large bombs in succession about 4.15. This we were told later by some naval officers, put an end to the submarine.

HMAT Ballarat Just after being torpedoed 2

At 5 o’clock our destroyer and another left. Well, we had the fastest ride we ever have had, or, perhaps, likely to have on any boat. We travelled at 20 miles an hour (a little over 23 knots). The sailors were ‘bonza’ chaps absolutely, and had been in the Jutland and Heligoland battles. Many mementoes and keepsakes were given to them. We also gave them our fox terrier. They made chocolates for us, and anything they could possibly give us. We made port 90 miles distance at 8 o’clock. Then for half-an-hour we slowly proceeded up harbor, and at 9 o’clock we were in old England.

We formed up in fours; irrespective of rank, N.C.Os. and men. Colonel McVea stood on the right to take our salute as we moved off. As we passed the colonel said, ‘You good, brave boys.’ My word, I can tell you we felt it rather touchingly. We went to the barracks, where we all had a basin of hot cocoa and a large meat sandwich, and then slept in the midst of some big guns. We were the guests of the sailors, our officers being with the regimental Officers. You can guess how cordially the sailors treated us. In the afternoon we formed up. Then we marched out to a naval railway station, entrained by different brigades, and at 3 o’clock we were off to Amesbury camp at Lark Hill. Till this time the-people could not see us, as we were in the naval yards, but when we emerged, we saw now from everywhere flags flying, whilst every house had its folk at the windows and doors.

At Exeter the Mayoress provided us (on the railway station) with a bun and a cup of tea. We were met at the railway station by a bugle band, and escorted to our camp quarters, where, we gradually settled down.

Torpedoing of the troopship; Ballarat

Written by Private Chas. J. Smith, of Leichardt, son of Mrs. J. Smith, of Bendigo, on 27 April 1917.

“We got within a few hours of land when they got a torpedo into us. I was sitting on the fore well deck hatchway reading and sheltering myself from the cold, when someone called out, ‘There it comes!’ I looked up and saw a torpedo coming straight for where I was sitting.

The alarm was sounded, and we got to our boat stations, the soldiers behaving admirably. There was no rushing, and the boats got away in good time; the sea was calm. I went below to get my pocket book, and my boat got away without me and four others. They would not come back, so we looked about to get into another, but the cry was always the same ‘You don’t belong to this boat!’

We did not get excited or anxious, as we knew the wireless had sent out distress signals. It seemed no time before we, could see destroyers coming. There were about five destroyers and two trawlers. They came right alongside and we got off direct onto them. They would take a load, and then scout round whilst the next got her load, and when all were transhipped, we made off at about 30 miles an hour.

We enjoyed the fast ride immensely, and have nothing but admiration for the British navy. They treated us like old friends, and couldn’t do too much for us.”

Source: https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/90849469?searchTerm=HMAT%20Ballarat&searchLimits=dateFrom=1917-04-25|||dateTo=1917-12-31|||l-advcategory=Article|||l-word=*ignore*%7C*ignore*|||sortby=dateAsc#

Occasional Paper 78: Two Proud Ships: HMAS Brisbane (I) and HMAS Brisbane (II)

May 21, 2020

The following is an address given by Captain Ralph T. Derbidge MBE RAN (Retired) on Monday 19 October 2015 at the Australian War Memorial. The occasion was the dedication of a commemorative plaque honouring two ships of Her Majesty’s Australian Fleet that bore the name HMAS Brisbane, and all who crewed them. The purpose of the address was not to describe the two ships in any great detail but to provide a picture and understanding of the people who manned them.

The two ships served the nation for a combined total of 53 years but their initial commissioning dates were separated by almost as many years. They were both steam driven and of near same size. As an aside, the de-commissioning in 2001 of HMAS Brisbane (II) marked the end of steam propulsion for the Royal Australian Navy.

Each ship earned wartime battle honours but their appearances, fit outs and capabilities were vastly different. Similarity amounted to little more than the grey paint that covered their hulls. The one common denominator, as it has always been, was the calibre and competence of the all-male crews of those years that manned them. They were good, those men; they knew it and you could not tell them much!

The replacement in 1913 of the Royal Navy’s Australian Squadron by a purpose-built Australian Fleet, led by the then modern battle cruiser HMAS Australia, did not happen overnight or without the expenditure of significant national treasure. Moreover, determined political will was vital to the process.

That process led to the addition to the Fleet in 1916 of the Town Class cruiser HMAS Brisbane (I), built here in Australia. She was a credit to the skills and resourcefulness of the fledgling major warship construction team assembled at the then Cockatoo Island Naval Dockyard in Sydney. Poignantly, reminders of the ship, her personnel and the dockyard have been consigned to the pages of history.

HMAS Brisbane (I) Departing Sydney on 2 May 1935. RAN image

We might be forgiven for focussing hereafter in some detail on her namesake, HMAS Brisbane (II), for her legacy is still firmly in the minds of many of us here. Furthermore, substantial and significant traces of her are to be found on and off-shore in south-east Queensland, and proudly on display here in this hallowed place. She was built in the United States of America and commissioned there in 1967, the third of three Perth Class guided missile destroyers built to the design of the United States Navy’s very successful Charles F Adams Class, but with some modifications.

She and her sister ships, Perth and Hobart, brought to the Royal Australian Navy new technologies of automation and computerisation and, for the first time, a real and potent surface-to-air missile system and, to be personally parochial, a medium-range gunnery system that worked. She was destined to give 34 years of remarkable service to the nation and the memory of her found a place of genuine and deep affection within the hearts of all who served in her.

Soon after commissioning, she was to be tested in the Vietnam War where her extremely professional and effective contributions in two seven-month deployments in 1969 and 1971 to that troubled theatre drew high praise. A measure of that involvement was that she fired some 14,000 rounds (or 435 tonnes) of high explosive 5-inch ammunition from her two gun mounts while operating on what was known as the Vietnam Gunline. In that war, her tactical call-sign aptly was Flamboyant and she concluded replenishment at sea evolutions from supply ships with an appropriate, loud-speaker blaring, replaying of the Credence Clearwater Revival hit-song Proud Mary. In this context, I am pleased to acknowledge the presence with us today of my commanding officer at the time of the second deployment to Vietnam 44 years ago, the then Captain Geoffrey Loosli CBE, now Rear Admiral (Retired)[1].

The ship again would be committed to combat operations twenty years later in the First Gulf War where she served once more with distinction. I pay homage to her commanding officer in that conflict, the now retired Vice Admiral Chris Ritchie AO and former Chief of Navy. He also is with us today. By this time, the ship was well known in, and beyond the Fleet, as The Steel Cat. Towards the end of her working life, still bristling with pride, she remained a unique operationally capable unit of the Royal Australian Navy with an unmatched weapons suite and associated command, control and communications combat data system. That capability, and much more, will be returned to the Royal Australian Navy when a newly-named HMAS Brisbane (III) is commissioned within the next few years. She will be one of three large and powerful air-warfare destroyers being built here in Australia.

Allow me to close on a somewhat sombre note, but with uplifting undertones. All sailors die; some in the red flash of battle, some in the white cold of a nursing home. In the vigour of youth, or the infirmity of age, all will eventually die. But the Royal Australian Navy lives on, and every sailor who ever lived, and served in that navy, is living still within its heritage.

We sailors here understand this, for we are the progeny of that navy and thus the custodians, if you will, of the memory of the two fine ships about to be honoured in the grounds of this venerated place. It is that link which gives us a sense of belonging to something that will outlive our own mortality.

The experiences and camaraderie we once shared afloat remain manifest, here and now, but one day, all of us will get separated from each other; we will miss our conversations of everything and nothing; the dreams that we had. Days will pass by, months, years, until this contact becomes rare. Eventually, our children and grandchildren will see our navy photographs and ask, “Who are these people?”

Then, because our hearts have been touched, we will smile with invisible tears, and we will say quietly: “It was with them that I had the best days of my life.”

Further Reading

HMAS Brisbane (I) History published by Sea Power Centre-Australia, available at https://www.navy.gov.au/hmas-brisbane-i

HMAS Brisbane (II) History published by Sea Power Centre-Australia, available at https://www.navy.gov.au/hmas-brisbane-ii

HMAS Brisbane in the Far East 1925, by Greg Swinden, first published in the Naval Historical Review 2016, available at https://www.navyhistory.org.au/hmas-brisbane-in-the-far-east-1925/

[1] Rear Admiral R Geoffrey Loosli CBE RAN (Retired) passed away on 5 September 2016, aged 90 years

Occasional Paper 77: HMAS Assault. WWII Combined Operations Directorate Establishment – Port Stephens NSW

April 14, 2020

By Dennis J Weatherall JP TM AFAITT(L) LSM – Volunteer Researcher

HMAS Assault, also known as the Amphibious Training Centre to American personnel, was a combined operations establishment for training Allied personnel in all aspects of amphibious warfare. It also provided operational and logistics support to amphibious units of the Royal Australian Navy. During its short three-year commission (September 1942 to August 1945) more than 22,000 personnel undertook training which was essential for the successful repulsion of Japanese forces from the Pacific Islands. This paper provides insight into its establishment, roles, challenges confronted and personnel who played a significant role in contributing to victory in the Pacific.

In 1942 Australian Forces were heavily committed to the War against Germany and its Allies in Europe then in its third year. As in WWI, RAN units were under the command of the Admiralty and employed against Italy in the Mediterranean and elsewhere. The Japanese had entered the war in Australia’s own area of interest with the invasion of South East Asian countries and the attack on Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. Following the rapid Japanese conquest by the Japanese of Malaya and the “Fall of Fortress Singapore” on 15^th February, Australia found itself threatened for the first time since British settlement. The subsequent Japanese advance through the Dutch East Indies and islands in the South-West Pacific basin brought WWII to the Australian mainland on 19 February 1942 with the bombing of Darwin.

However, by early 1942, the Allies were already planning for the invasion of Europe and had successfully established a “Combined Operations Command”. Australian planners then urged the Australian Government to seek British assistance with information and expertise to establish a similar Australian Directorate. This was essential if Japanese forces were to be repelled from the Pacific Islands. Fortuitously service by many Australians in all three British Services meant there was a pool of experienced Australian available to return home with a small number of British Officers for the task of establishing an indigenous amphibious capability.

The officers seconded to establish an Australian “Combined Operations Base” were; Commander T. W. Cook RAN (ex CO HMS Tormentor British Combined Operations School) , Lieutenant Colonel M. Hope – Royal Artillery, Lieutenant Colonel T. K. Walker – Royal Marines, Wing Commander A.M. Murdoch – RAAF, Lieutenant Commander H. George – RANVR, and Lieutenant D. Richardson – RANVR. All had “Combined Operations” experience and understood the importance of an amphibious capability to push the Japanese out of New Guinea, Borneo, Bougainville and occupied islands between Australia and Japan.

In June 1942, the Defence planners made a strong recommendation for the formation of the Australian “Combined Operations Directorate” to be set up in Melbourne. On 5 June, 1942 the Deputy Chief of Naval Staff, Captain Frank Getting RAN, Commander Cook and Lieutenant Colonel Hope met with General Macarthur’s Brigadier Chamberlain in General Macarthur’s Headquarters, then located in Melbourne. They were informed that any such “Combined Operations” in Australia would come under the command of Macarthur. There was agreement on an immediate start to train three Divisions – one Australian and two American – in amphibious warfare. The RAN was also to produce one third of the total number of crews required and also provide all naval means (craft and crews) for soldiers undergoing training.

Location of former HMAS Assault at Port Stephens, New South Wales

An immediate task for CMDR Cook and LT COL Hope was to find a suitable location to establish the training base. They took to the air and eventually decided that Fly Point in Port Stephens, NSW as an ideal location. A ground inspection confirmed the decision. Then followed the construction from scratch of a shore base in the scrub country away from prying eyes. Training for all facets of amphibious operations (sea, land the air) could be conducted in the immediate vicinity. From a security perspective, Port Stephens being a small fishing village with little other activity in the area, the location was ideal.

No time was lost awaiting the building of the base. The Auxiliary Merchant Cruiser HMAS Westralia was loaned as an accommodation vessel from 21 August, 1942 and on 1 September, 1942 HMAS Assault was actually commissioned in Westralia with 24 Officers and 280 Seamen Trainees. HMAS Westralia was then designated as a Landing Ship Infantry when she arrived in Port Stephens on 3 September 1942.

It was hoped at the time that Westralia’s sister ships HMA Ships Manora and Kanimbla would also be made available as LSI’s and fitted out with landing craft. Provision was made in planning for these ships to be made available and Flinders Naval Depot made aware of the requirement for trained ratings as they finished their basic training. The Naval Board was supportive and the training pipeline to HMAS Assault commenced.

At the same time, the requirement for landing craft was presented to the Naval Board. It was recommended that these be built locally as they could not be delivered off-the-shelf. Until purpose-built craft were available, training was undertaken in nine motor boats requisitioned from civilian sources. These were referred to by the sailors as the “Hollywood Fleet”. Folding- boats were provided by the Army.

The base was designed from ground up with layout the was first consideration. Accommodation for all personnel, moorings, piers, slipways, maintenance facilities all had to be built in a virgin bushland setting 125 miles north of Sydney.

On 1 October 1943, one year after commissioning ashore it was reported that 100 Officers, 100 Coxswains, 453 Boat Crews, 250 Stokers, 40 Landing Craft Signalmen and 120 Naval Beach Party Commandos had been trained. As it took until 10 December 1942 to complete all buildings the majority many trainees and staff were accommodated in HMAS Westralia for the first three months. Some 90 officers and men were transferred to a Queensland Army Camp at Toorbul following their training. They were then used to train soldiers in certain phases of amphibious warfare. This camp was later taken over by the American Forces and the Australians reposted to Assault.

The roles of HMAS Assault were to train;

Officers and ratings for boat crews,
Naval Commandos for beach parties,
combined operations signal teams, both Naval and Army with spares posted to the LSI vessels,
act as a base for LSI’s arranging transport, victualling, spares and repairs,
designated Commanding Naval Officers to also be Naval Officer in Command of a post.

By 1 October 1943 all three LSIs had been supplied with Assault trained Officers and Boat Crews, along with Beach Commandos, with a factor of 25% spare trained personnel.

On 1 October 1943 HMAS Assault commenced a new phase in its evolution. With its training role mature and sufficient personnel trained to commence amphibious landings to re-take Japanese occupied territory the new role was logistics support. This involved;

operating as a stores depot supplying spare parts for the landing craft carried on the LSI’s,
operating as a pool depot for a reserve of trained combined operations personnel, and
assisting with the base’s trained boat crews in training US soldiers passing through the Amphibious Training Centre (ATC).

The ATC was the American organisation responsible for training assault troops and to which HMAS Assault was responsible. Some 22,000 men from various services received amphibious training including 2,000 Australians. The remainder were all US Servicemen.

As expected, trainees who had completed their training at Assault had to wait for postings to the LSI’s and in some cases, subject to their wait time, had to be brought back for various refresher courses. This occurred when such trained personnel had returned to their previous establishments to awaiting a billet on an LSI. As the Assault expanded and more accommodation became available trained personnel were kept onboard Assault and kept in training until posted to sea.

In the early stages of developing HMAS Assault, there was a shortage of actual landing craft until the locally-built Australian craft were delivered. This shortage made training in craft handling difficult. Until December 1942, only two LCA’s (Landing Craft Assault) were actually operational at the base and the requisition civilian craft (nothing like a LCA) were used in conjunction with the two LCA’s. Although not ideal, training continued with what was available. Whilst allowing crews to experience handling twin screw boats, these civilian craft couldn’t replicate running ashore and beaching craft in all conditions of weather and sea states.

HMAS ASSAULT – Beach Landing Exercise AWM image

On 14 December 1942 sufficient American landing craft arrived for the USN Advanced Landing Craft Base, the name of the American base at Port Stephens. Following delivery of these craft training in all conditions could be undertaken. The Port was an excellent location as within the immediate area and along the coast were steep and shallow, sandy beaches, with or without surf, rock, mud and mangrove areas, all in close proximity to the base.

On 10 January 1943 the Australian-built LCA’s started to arrive. This allowed Assault to return five requisitioned craft to Sydney for deployment to other urgent tasks. On 20 March 1943 19 American landing craft were handed over to Assault control by the American Landing Force Equipment Depot (LFED). Finally there was sufficient craft of various types to provide instruction and gain experience.

In addition to the LSIs, Westralia and Manora, HMAS Assault had on its warrant list several other vessels. These were;

HMAS Ping Wo, a tender for the transportation of water and stores for the LSIs. She was also used as a training ship. Ping Wo and was an ex Chinese River Steamer of 2,000 tons.
HMAS Gumleaf, an ex Seine Trawler, 55 ft OA used for escort, patrol and salvage duties.
HMA Ships Flying Cloud and Kweena, both Auxiliary Patrol Vessels’,
A variety of landing craft:

LST – Landing ship tank x 1 (US)
LCI – Landing craft infantry x 12 (US)

LCT – Landing craft tank x 4 (US)

LCM – Landing craft mechanised x 7 (US), 4 loaned to “Assault”
APC – Auxiliary patrol craft x 2 (US)
LCV – Landing craft vehicle x 67 (US), 14 loaned to “Assault”

LCP – Landing craft personnel x 15 (US), 1 loaned to “Assault”
LCS – Landing craft support x 7 (US)

LCA – Landing craft assault x 9 (AU)
Motor boats x 4 (AU), of which 38 were under “Assault’s” control
Three boat ramps for slipping, scraping and painting

The buildings ashore in HMAS Assault consisted of 67 structures. These were classified as “C” series-type unlined, galvanised iron huts. They were located 800 yards from the landing craft moorings and general pier area. They were described as hot in summer and freezing in winter, but this was nothing new in time of war!

HMAS ASSAULT – St Nazaire Road Dinning Hall and Galley. AWM image

The base was originally designed for 500 officers and men, but as many as 870 were housed, of which 70 were officers and 800 other ranks. As in the British counterpart establishments, roads were named after successful operations and buildings named after military personnel who had achieved success in Combined Operations to date in WWII.

A jetty to suit naval requirements was constructed using as its basis, an existing jetty on requisitioned land. It was altered and extended considerably to reach out 510 feet with a width of 12 feet, and at the end an L-shaped return of 162 feet which formed a boat compound. The outer perimeter of the jetty was enclosed with planking set 3” apart to act as a breakwater. The pier had a depth of 7 feet alongside at low water and could handle 5 ton loads with fuelling points located along its length.

Unfortunately, by late 1943 slipping facilities for the repair and painting of boats were found lacking. This was overcome by the employment of naval divers and by the end of the year the initial work started by civilian contractors was completed. The result was a working slipway and boat shed. Prior to completion, boats had to be slipped at Tea Gardens, some 3 miles distance, and only when the facilities there were available.

The Assault boat shed was 112 feet long x 30 feet wide, set up with a winch to haul boats, along with machinery for general maintenance. The slipway had a capacity of 25 tons but the depth of water limited the size of the vessel that could be slipped. At high water, it was reported only 4 feet 6 inches at the water end, and only 2 feet 6 inches at the shore side. It meant that only boats with an average draft of 3 feet 6 inches could be slipped, and only at high water. The solution would be to extend the slipway another 40 feet at the water end. However, no record could be found of this ever being done.

The slipway came with three cradles which allowed three boats to be lifted out of the water at any one time for maintenance.

Located nearby was the Engineers’ Work Shop, a building of 114 feet in length and width of 42 feet. It was well equipped with; lathes, milling machines, drills, shaping machines, a 60-ton hydraulic press, valve grinder, bench drills, punch shears and an electric welding unit.

One of the biggest problems for the base was spare parts for the overhaul of the landing craft engines, as these were mainly of US origin. Lack of the smallest part could keep a craft alongside for weeks and impact practical craft ship handling exercises.

HMAS Assault was well-located with quite a pleasant temperate climate. However, summer heat could make it more sub-tropical. Unlike bases situated in far Northern Queensland, there was little in the way of environmentally induced illness. The base had a capable hospital which treated mainly casualties from vigorous activities. On 24 May 1943 casualties from a PBY-Consolidated Catalina which crashed into Port Stephens were treated on base. Post WWII the base hospital became the Port Stephens civilian hospital.

Men came and trained, then left. The base had ample sporting facilities available to keep the trainees amused; swimming, surfing, fishing, along with cricket in summer and football in the winter months. In 1943, the Assault rugby team won the First Grade Newcastle League.

Like all bases in war time, religious observances were conducted by Navy Chaplains and the YMCA and Australian Comforts Fund people ran the recreation, with regular parties and entertainment.

The entire concept of establishing HMAS Assault was to train Australian and American sailors and soldiers in the art of amphibious warfare, and to get the Army conditioned to working with the Navy, and vice-versa. When the American Training Group was established the two facilities were combined and designated the ATC – Amphibious Training Centre. This took place in February 1943 under the overall command of the Commander South West Pacific Force, Rear Admiral Daniel E Barbey USN, who answered directly to General Macarthur.

This brought all such training in Australia under American command. From this time until training concluded US Marines, RAN sailors and US Army personnel served together on base.

HMAS ASSAULT: Beach launching in surf conditions work party returning to HMAS Westralia AWM Image

Training at HMAS Assault was, to say the least, intense. It covered every conceivable aspect of amphibious landing operations to face the enemy on inhospitable landing sites. RAN sailors took part in all the courses, from assaulting beaches to coxswaining landing craft and other vessels of opportunity, not only to meet the enemy face on, but to learn clandestine skills for infiltrating enemy lines. The specially selected naval beach commandos were instructed in all makes and models of weapons and explosives, as well as hand-to-hand unarmed combat.

Lieutenant Donald Davidson RANVR was the chief instructor in hand-to-hand combat. No-one knew from where he originated but at war’s end those he trained knew where he’d been. He was training officer for those selected to be “Special Service Beach Commandos” and sailed on MV Krait, the Japanese fishing boat captured before Singapore surrendered. It was known as the “fishing boat that went to war”! LEUT Davidson was 2IC to Major Ivan Lyons in Krait. Before this Davidson had established the “Special Reconnaissance Department” based on Fraser Island, Queensland. He was later a member of the ill-fated ‘Rimau’ raid on Japanese shipping in Singapore. LEUT Davison was severely wounded in this operation and holed up on Tapai Island. So he wasn’t taken prisoner and tortured for what he knew he took his ‘last resort’ cyanide tablet carried by operatives. Major Lyons died in a fire fight on Soren Island, it’s said whilst holding off over one hundred Japanese soldiers.

HMAS ASSAULT: Air Force Ground Support exercise. AWM Image

Many HMAS Assault trainees went to various postings in the three LSIs. There they operated their landing craft in operations to expel Japanese forces from conquered territory. Some were employed in the Special Operations with Lyons and Davidson, others were posted to US Military Small Ships and even wore US Army uniform. They served on these small vessels throughout the South West Pacific theatre as far as Japan until the end of hostilities.

In early March 1944, training at Assault ceased. It had served its purpose well. On 4 August 1944 the base was designated to “care and maintenance” and manning was reduced to just one officer and twenty-four other rates.

After the dropping of the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima on Monday 6 August 1945 and three days later the second A-Bomb on Nagasaki the Japanese surrendered and so ended WWII when General Macarthur signed the surrender in Tokyo Bay onboard USS Missouri on Sunday 2 September 1945.

On 7 August 1945 HMAS Assault was decommissioned but not abandoned – it was transferred to the Royal Navy and used as the shore depot for the British Pacific Fleet, known also as the “Phantom Fleet”.

References:

RAN website HMAS Assault – history
Sailor & Commando – A.E. Ted Jones, 1942-46, Hesperian Press ISBN 0 85905253 2
Commanding Officers’ Monthly Reports to the Secretary, Naval Office Melbourne
Australian War Memorial Canberra – website
Photographs from various sites – public accessible
National Archives – Canberra
Huddart Parker Shipping Company History

Ship histories and stories

The Sepik River

Fly River

River Passages by RAN Vessels

Torpedoing of the troopship; Ballarat

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