by Peter Jesser

In January 1942, Lieutenant Harold Jesser, Papuan Infantry Battalion (PIB), was ordered to take a patrol of PIB soldiers to map the tracks in the rubber plantations at Sogeri, in the mountains behind Port Moresby.

The task was part of planning for the defence of Port Moresby in the event of a Japanese landing in the area. At this time, the possibility of a Japanese thrust from the north, across the mountains, was not under consideration. There was no ‘track’ across the Owen Stanleys, and the experience of the Administration in Port Moresby suggested that such a route would be impractical if not impossible for military purposes.

Some accounts of the Kokoda campaign suggest that a few prospectors may have crossed the mountains from Port Moresby to the Yodda goldfields in the late 1800s or early 1900s. But the only evidence is for a crossing much further to the west, from Redscar Bay to the Mambare. The hostility of the people in the Uberi area effectively closed the way to Kokoda. In fact, it was only with great difficulty and after numerous attempts that an Administration expedition completed the first recorded crossing to Kokoda in 1904 (see Hawthorne (2003) for a detailed history).

The purpose of the 1904 expedition was to test the feasibility of an overland mail route from Port Moresby to Kokoda. Following the crossing, a postal service staffed by Papuan policemen was established. The policemen – one setting out from Port Moresby and one from Kokoda – went from village to village, met somewhere in the mountains, exchanged mail bags and returned. The service became less frequent after air services were established. It ceased to be advertised in the 1930s, although it continued to operate on an occasional basis for many years. Significantly, as no Europeans appear to have used the track after the mail route was established, European knowledge of it rapidly declined. For all intents and purposes, and despite the mail service, the mountains were considered to be impassable.

The wartime involvement with the track to Kokoda began with Lieutenant Jesser’s mapping task in the rubber plantations at Sogeri. This account of his crossing and his involvement in the Kokoda campaign was prepared from material recorded shortly before his death in 1997       (P. Jesser, unpublished interview with H. Jesser, 1997).

Harold Jesser recalled:

“It was the beginning of ’42 I should think. Anyhow, when we got up there, I had six natives with me and a fellow from the Artillery. I forget his name. We went round and the first place we went to was old Sefton at Koitaki and he said, “You’re wasting your time. Every plantation around here has got maps of the area. They’ve all got maps and they all adjoin.”
So what we did was went round and collected the maps. We were given a week or ten days to survey the tracks. But collecting the maps only took a couple of days. So we were sitting down after the job and I said, “What are we going to do now?” I think it was one of the natives who said, ‘Why don’t we go to Kokoda?’

Because no Europeans had made the crossing for many years there was a lack of knowledge of the route to Kokoda in the Administration. Jesser was of the belief that no one had been that way since the first crossing nearly forty years earlier. But he was not aware of the Port Moresby-Kokoda mail service. Many of the PIB soldiers were former policemen and it may well have been one of those who had staffed the mail service who asked “Why don’t we go to Kokoda?”

Jesser continued:

I said, “Fair enough.” So we just packed up and left for Kokoda. But told nobody. And we took … oh, from Koitaki, not from the jeep head which was about another day’s walk away … six days over and five days back, because we left tucker as we went. We came back with nothing, just what we were going to camp on. Just a blanket and ground sheet, that was all we had to carry.
And when we got back there was hell to pay.

Jesser laughed as he recalled their return:

“Where’ve you been?”
“I’ve been over to Kokoda.”
And they said, “Kokoda? You walked to Kokoda?”

The incredulity with which his statement was met reflected the fact that the feat was considered very near impossible.

“Yes. We’ve been over to Kokoda and back.” But the track wasn’t there, see, and they didn’t know. There’d been nobody there for years.”

According to Jesser, the “track” only existed for short distances around the villages. The rest of the way they “broke bush”. But his crossing recorded the walking times between villages and, in Papua New Guinea, that was critical information.

A young lieutenant does not usually extend his orders on his own initiative without attracting some attention.

Anyhow, I had to go down and report to General Morris. He was all right and he said, “Oh, you should have let somebody know.” That sort of thing. He didn’t reprimand me or anything. And he was quite interested in the track, wanted me to do a report on it and all the rest of it. And he said, ‘All right, you can go back to your unit now.” He’d finished with me, and as I got to the door he said, “Oh, Jesser, if you had to go back to Kokoda, would you go?”
I said, “Yes, certainly.”
He said, “Good, I’ll let you know.”
It was about a week later he rang me up. He didn’t ring Logan (CO PIB). He rung me up, and he said, “I want you to get a platoon together and take another officer with you and I want you to go to Kokoda and patrol the north coast.”
I organised everything, [Lieutenant] Jack Izatt came with me. I had one sergeant, a native sergeant, and about thirty natives. Organised everything. We went [on the truck] … as far as we could which was old McDonald’s place.”

So it was on 19 February 1942 – the day Darwin was bombed – that Lieutenant Harold Jesser led the first wartime patrol across what would become the Kokoda Trail. The patrol’s mission in Northern Papua was to watch for any signs of an anticipated approach by the Japanese and to screen any possible lines of overland approach to Port Moresby (Byrnes 1989).

Jesser was mapping tracks again, this time under orders that allowed him a good measure of independence. But for the next three months – until the remainder of the PIB crossed the track to Kokoda – his platoon was the only force operating on the north coast of Papua.

When the remainder of the PIB arrived in June 1942, Jesser (now promoted to Captain) was tasked with placing them at various locations from Buna to Ambasi and Ioma, and familiarising them with the tracks in their areas. He was still engaged in these tasks when the Japanese landings commenced on 21/22 July.

News of the Japanese landings reached the PIB while Jesser was with headquarters staff making their way down from Kokoda to Awala. Jesser was ordered to take a patrol forward to ascertain the Japanese strength and intentions.

Jesser’s force comprised a platoon commanded by his friend Lieutenant (later Captain) John Chalk. (John Chalk had come to the PIB from the 49th Battalion.) The patrol proceeded to Sangara with the intention of establishing a base in the house at Mason’s plantation. Unknown to Watson and Jesser, however, the Japanese were advancing more quickly than anticipated.

Lieutenant Chalk’s report of the patrol commences:

“July 22 1030 hrs Capt Jesser Lt Chalk, and 35 natives left Wasida at [sic] to proceed to Buna area to report any enemy movements in that area. Arrived at Awala at 1100 hrs. Received orders from Major Watson regarding role in Buna area. Left Awala at 1115 hours arrived Isugahambo 1400hrs. Contacted W.O. Bitmead … 1430 Hrs Capt. Jesser left to make recce. of Higatura area and select observation point on a high feature overlooking Buna. Remainder of force proceeded to Sangara to await arrival of Capt Jesser. Arrived Sangara 1500 hours …”

Chalk commenced writing up his report after his arrival at Mason’s house. Later he began preparing their evening meal. He recalled later that he had a nice lot of vegetables roasting and all the cigarettes they could wish for in the abandoned house. Meanwhile, Jesser had completed his reconnaissance and was posting sentries as he made his way back. He later recalled:

“Johnny went down as far as Sangara and cooked tea. That was about the end of the day. I was just coming back, walking down the track and I saw these fellows standing at the gate. The house was … oh … about two hundred yards back from the track. And I saw these fellows standing at the gate. About eight or ten of them … ten or twelve … standing at the gate. And all of a sudden it dawned on me – they were bloomin’ Japs!”

It was getting dark and Jesser was a couple of hundred metres from the soldiers. It was when he saw their bicycles that he realised they were Japanese. They had got past his sentries before the alarm could be raised.

Mason’s house was set well back from the track and surrounded by a high hedge. Jesser’s account continues:

“I don’t know whether I went through it or over this great big hedge on the side of the road. The grass was about waist deep. I ran across and into the back of the house and sang out to John, “For Christ’s sake get out, the Japs are at the front gate!”
And he left the tea cooking. We left it for the Japs!”

John Chalk said he only had time to grab his Tommy gun and his report. Only later did he realise he had left his spare magazines for the Tommy gun behind. But both men got away undetected and stayed in the garden behind the house for a time to see what the Japanese would do. Then Jesser went to contact the sisters at the mission while Chalk assembled his men and retired to a position on the loop road to Isugahambo where they could cover both tracks to Awala.

At 1915 Jesser returned with some food obtained from the mission sisters. He had told the sisters that they should evacuate but they refused to leave.

Having reached Sangara, the Japanese would have known that Australian forces were in the area but, as long as Jesser’s patrol remained undetected, the Japanese would not know what strength they faced. Jesser and Chalk, on the other hand, still had the opportunity to gather intelligence for the defensive action.

Scouts were posted on the Sangara track to monitor the movements of the Japanese. Later that night, Lieutenant Chalk took a patrol of four soldiers back into Sangara to assess the situation. The Japanese were then occupying Mason’s house and outbuildings. Chalk and his men watched the Japanese through a screen of dense bush and rain for most of the night, but no estimate of enemy strength could be obtained.

Jesser’s only means of communicating with his CO at Awala was by runner and, in the circumstances, this was not satisfactory. So at 0300 on 23 July, he instructed Lieutenant Chalk to take his platoon and withdraw towards Awala, destroying bridges and barricading the road as he went. Jesser went on ahead to report to his CO and depart again with Sergeant Katue on a reconnaissance patrol back into the area now infiltrated by the Japanese.

Watson acted immediately. He despatched Lieutenant Bill Wort and WO2 Jack McWatters to assist Lieutenant Chalk and sent Chalk a handwritten, five-word order: “You will engage the enemy.” The platoon of 35 PIB soldiers with .303 rifles and their three Australian officers would hardly be a match for the advancing Japanese. But Lieutenant Chalk set up his ambush “1,000 yards east of Awala” and waited. The selected ambush site was on a hill, in a native garden, where the Japanese would have to advance down one hill and up another to reach the ambush position.

In John Chalk’s words:

The Japanese eventually arrived, preceded by native carriers, so I had to hold my fire until the Japanese soldiers came into view. I gave the order to fire and the Japanese immediately swung into action with mortars and woodpecker machine guns.

Hopelessly outnumbered by an estimated more than 1,000 well-armed Japanese, Chalk had to break off the engagement quickly and withdraw – or as he later put it: “I suddenly realised I was the only one still firing”.

(Note: Ben Moide’s account agrees with Chalk’s, although Moide refers to the ambush also deploying two Bren guns. However, the PIB did not have Brens at this time. They did have two old Lewis guns and this is apparently what Moide refers to (he talks about the barrel being removed and carried separately, which indicates a Lewis gun). There is no way of knowing whether the Lewis guns were with Chalk’s platoon at the start of the patrol or whether Watson sent them as reinforcements with Wurt and McWatters. We should not be too critical of old soldier’s memories, whether it is Ben Moide, John Chalk or Harold Jesser.)

The PIB War Diary records the events of that day:

Awala 23.7.42

1500	Capt. Jesser reported no enemy sighted on Ioma-Wasida track
1515	One platoon, under Lt. Seekamp of 39 Bn. arrived Awala.
1550	Enemy engaged approx. 1000 yds East of Awala, by Lt. Chalk’s party, who opened fire with rifles and Tommy gun of [sic] the enemy at a distance of approx. 150 yds. Enemy retaliated immediately with rifle, L.M.G., .5 M.G. and mortar fire. Enemy were preceded by carrier line. Numerous casualties were inflicted on enemy his total strength not known. From this action 30 natives were missing. During the engagement Capt. Jesser took patrol to make a recce. of right flank.
1620	Platoon of 39th Bn. under Lt Seekamp covered withdrawal of P.I.B. Lt. Seekamp was ordered to hold position for 30 minutes after withdrawal of P.I.B. and to fall back on Ongahambo, where a dump of food and ammo had already been established, for the purpose of effecting a further stand. P.I.B. officers remained at Wasida to collect and destroy maps, documents, etc. On arrival at Ongahambo, it was learned that contrary to orders Lt. Seekamp had withdrawn his platoon to Wairope. Rest house and stores at Ongahambo burned by P.I.B. officers and N.C.Os., all native personnel had run away earlier, then followed on to Wairope to contact remainder of force. During the day, the radio transmitter personnel, without orders, withdrew to a position approx. 2 miles West of Wairope.

Wairope 23.7.42

2000	W.O.II Brown, ANGAU member of the wireless party, reported to C.O. and was instructed to withdraw the transmitter on the following day to the Ilimo area, there to await further instructions. Wireless outfit “windy” from the start. Sitrep dispatched to N.G.F. per radio, re days operations.

Wairope 24.7.42

0630	P.I.B. patrol, native, posted on Eastern side of Kumusi River.
0800	Suspension bridge at Wairope demolished.

…

Harold Jesser also recalled the events of that first contact with the Japanese:

“[ At 0300 on 23 July] I went back to Awala to tell Bill Watson what had happened. And he said then go back and tell Johhny to hold there … maintain his position there and have a crack at the Japs when they came up. Which John did. And he [Watson] said to me, he said you’d better go and warn the mission people that the Japs are on their way.

So I went back to Dobadura and while I was away then the Japs came up the track and John had a crack at them. I had Katue with me. We got back there. It was in daylight [23 July] but there was nobody at the Mission. The Mission was quite empty. We eventually found them all in the bush, way up in the bloody hills somewhere. And we warned them …”

At this point, reconciling the accounts of Harold Jesser and John Chalk with the war diary becomes a bit difficult (old memories again). It would appear that Jesser left Chalk at 0300 on 23 July and returned to Awala. Watson sent Wurt and McWatters to assist Chalk. Then some time later that day, Jesser did a recce of the Ioma-Wasida track, returning at 1500. Apparently he was then to take Seekamp’s platoon and guide them in to reinforce Chalk’s ambush. John Chalk said that Harold Jesser was waiting at Awala for the 39th. But the 39th arrived at Awala too late for that to occur. So Watson ordered Seekamp’s platoon to hold at Awala for 30 minutes so that he could re-establish the PIB at Ongahambo, two or three miles back along the track. But Seekamp’s platoon withdrew (it is unclear whether they engaged the Japanese at this time) to the Wairope, forcing Watson to do the same.

John Chalk also reported that Harold Jesser had said he “better get back to give Johnny a hand” at the time of the ambush. This was an apparent reference to Jesser’s reconnaissance on Chalk’s right flank during the ambush. Once again, Sergeant Katue accompanied Jesser. But after that action, Jesser said:

“I wasn’t going to go back in, back down where Johnny was. We went round the back again. And then Katue cracked up. His feet cracked up. He couldn’t walk. So I went on, on my own.”

According to Harold Jesser, large cracks had opened up in the soles of Katue’s feet. Jesser left Katue in Mormoni village and continued on what he recalled as a “beautiful night”, making his way alone through jungle and plantations with thousands of fireflies lighting up the bush.

“And [on the morning of 24 July] I went down and had a look at Awala. There was nothing there, though. Everybody had gone. So I wasn’t going in there. I went bush again. And came back in at Ongahambo, I think it was. And there was nobody there. And I wasn’t going back bush again. I went up the track again and I got to the Kumusi River, the Wairope at the Kumusi, – the bridge – it’s hanging in the water. So I dived into the bush very smartly. I went right in a big circle around the top and swam the river and came back onto the track again, not to the bridge … back a bit … and I found Bill Watson and all his mob. Oh, and the 39th Battalion. They were there then.”

The Australian war history records:

About midday [24 July] Jesser, tireless and intrepid, who had been scouting round the Japanese advance, swam the [Kumusi] river and reported that the Japanese had spent the night at Awala and had made no forward move from there by 7 a.m. He reported that he had been in touch with the mission people from Sangara, who like those from Gona, were refugees in the bush.

Katue recovered and made his own way back to Port Moresby more than two months later. In the meantime, he had staged one-man war across northern Papua. Katue returned with, stitched to his uniform, the badges and insignia of some 26 Japanese soldiers he had killed – achieving his own brand of immortality in the annals of Papuan war history. Katue is reported to have said that he concentrated on officers and NCOs, as privates had nothing worth taking.

For his patrol work behind Japanese lines, Jesser was awarded the Military Cross. The citation for his Military Cross (approved for immediate award) states:

“During the night of 22/23rd July, 1942, at great personal risk he took a small patrol of natives and penetrated beyond Sangara, a distance of 12 miles behind the enemy lines, and returned to his Headquarters with valuable information of the enemy strength and disposition thereby enabling the P.I.B. to take up a position and greatly retard the enemy advance.
Again on the night of 26/27th July, 1942, he repeated the performance with similar results.”

Captain Jesser’s Military Cross was the first to be awarded in the Papua New Guinea theatre in World War II. Sergeant Katue, who accompanied Jesser during most of his patrols, was awarded the Military Medal. This was the first decoration to be won by a Papuan or New Guinean soldier.

At Wairope, however, the Japanese were not far behind Jesser. They were ambushed by the 39th and the PIB as they began crossing the Kumusi in rubber boats. The Japanese suffered casualties but there were too many crossing places and too few of the Australian and Papuan troops. The Australian force fell back towards Gorari where they were joined by more 39th Battalion troops and staged another ambush before falling back eventually to Oivi. Here the tired remnants of the PIB and the 39th dug in for the first pitched battle of the Kokoda campaign.

At Oivi, Watson despatched Captain Jesser to cover an alternate track which by-passed Oivi parallel to the main track. Jesser recalled:

“We were going to hold at Oivi, but there’s a track – well, the AIF used it – that goes around Oivi and comes in between Oivi and Kokoda, only about a quarter of the way to Kokoda. It comes in about five miles behind Oivi. But it was a good track and the Japs could by-pass Oivi on it. So Bill Watson sent me. I had a couple of native troops with me and six 39th Battalion fellows. And we went over right opposite Oivi and took up a position there. It was up on a high bank. And Bill Watson said, “If we’ve got to get out I’ll let you know”. So we hung on there. We never saw a Jap. And we were there all the rest of that day and that night.”

At Oivi, things rapidly became desperate. Captain Sam Templeton (39th Bn) disappeared while going to guide in new troops. The soldiers were exhausted and encircled by Japanese. Watson, who had overall command, eventually decided to withdraw. But he was unable to get word to Jesser and his party who had guarded their track while the battle ebbed and flowed a few hundred metres away. Eventually, all went quiet.

The withdrawal from Oivi has been recounted in many histories. It took place in the dark and rain. Watson was in no position to get word to Jesser. Lance-Corporal Sanopa, a Papuan policeman attached to the PIB led them out to the south where the fewest Japanese were thought to be. At the suggestion of Lieutenant Colin Goodman (Adjutant, PIB) the men fixed luminous fungus under their hat bands to maintain contact with each other in the darkness. The histories record the debt owed to Sanopa for his bush skills in leading the force, from their position at Oivi, between Japanese sentries only a few metres apart. But by morning the Australians had only covered some three kilometres. They were making little progress and were still faced by a wall of jungle. Watson referred to the incident in a letter to Colin Goodman after the war: “Do you remember the night we beat it out of Oivi with the flat-footed Angau policeman as guide and got lost. We would still be in the jungle eating Taro if you hadn’t suggested traveling on a compass bearing.”

Goodman had indeed made the suggestion and says that Watson told him: “You’ve got the compass.” The force followed a compass bearing to Deniki where they met up with other elements of the 39th who had withdrawn from Kokoda, burning the buildings and stores as they left.

Jesser’s small force was still at Oivi:

“You could hear [ the fighting at Oivi]. Hear gunfire. But we didn’t know what they were doing. But then the next afternoon I could see Kokoda burning. So I thought, well, if Kokoda’s burning, they’re not still at Oivi. So it’s time to get out. So we cut straight through, over, and we came in at Isurava.

We came back down to Deniki and they were all holding at Deniki then. Oh, there were some 39th fellows at Isurava. It might have been only half a dozen, two or three, I don’t know how many now. So we went back then to Deniki. But at no time did I walk straight into these places. I’d sooner go round them and come back in the back. And in Deniki we just took up positions there.”

The PIB and 39th continued to operate as a combined unit. Colonel Owen, CO of the 39th, had been killed in fighting at Kokoda and Watson once again assumed command until Major Allan Cameron assumed temporary command of Maroubra Force. Harold Jesser recalled:

“[Cameron] decided to attack Kokoda. I was patrolling every day down there … not down the main track. I’d come back on the main track one night and there was nothing there. And then he decided to attack Kokoda with three companies. We had about 240 I think the strength of the 39th Battalion was. We only left about eleven [at Deniki]. There were about eighty in every company, put it that way. Or it mightn’t have been eighty, nearer 75 or something. There was only about 11 or 12 left holding Deniki. One crowd was to come in on the Oivi track and stop any reinforcements coming up. Another company was to go down the gully sort of thing and come in on the side of Kokoda. And we were to go straight down the main track into Kokoda. Well, we only got down off the hill on to the flats and we ran into trouble. And that’s when the company commander, Cyril Deane, got killed. And we got pushed back. Well, we couldn’t go on because the Japs were there in force. As it turned out, the Japs decided to attack Deniki the same day that we decided to attack Kokoda. [Symington] walked into Kokoda and never fired a shot. There was nobody there. All the Japs had come up the track. Oh, it was a mess, you know. So we got pushed back in again. Coming on dark, the end of the day, we had to get back and protect Deniki. Which we did. The Japs followed up and fired for a while. That night they bunged on a bit of an act. But next day they must have got word that they didn’t have Kokoda any more. So back they go to Kokoda. And they attacked the fellows in Kokoda and left us alone. But then the 39th fellows got kicked out of Kokoda. The crowd over on the Oivi track, they got attacked. They had quite a few casualties. The Japs followed them up for a long time on their way back. The Japs were spread over a big area then and the crowd that went into Kokoda, they had trouble getting back and they didn’t come back into Deniki. They swung right round and they came back into Isurava. Then they came forward again.

We were holding Deniki and the Japs were … oh, nearly every day … they were just probing, they weren’t attacking. They were just probing patrols to find the weak spots. That’s when I got hit.

I was in the bush. I was forward of the slit trenches. We were always out there poking round in the bush, trying to see where the Japs were. That was our job.”

[Corporal (later Sergeant)] Gabriel Ehava was with me. But we weren’t side by side. Never. We might have twenty yards between us as long as we maintained contact. And then this native started to come down and I called him, you know, and that’s when I got hit. Oh, he might have been …[about 15 metres] off me. And I always had the Tommy gun ready to fire, so I just give him a burst and killed him. I don’t know who he was. He was probably a New Guinea native. Rabaul native. Well, when that happened we beat it straight back.”

The Japanese were using Rabaul villagers as carriers, but were also sending them to spy on the Australian lines. A Japanese patrol was behind the native on this occasion, unseen by Jesser. Jesser was shot in the arm.

In addition to his wound, Harold Jesser was suffering from malaria and black water fever. A few days later he took a line of walking wounded back to Port Moresby and took no further part in the battle on Kokoda Trail, eventually returning to Brisbane on the Centaur.

The small force of 39th Battalion and PIB troops were pushed out of Deniki and fell back to Isurava. Here the 2/14th Bn took control of the fighting with the remnants of the 39th. The part played by the PIB now changed. To meet the critical need for stretcher parties, the PIB was organised to perform this role and supervise Papuan carriers bearing the stream of wounded back from the front. The legend of the “Fuzzy Wuzzy angels” never acknowledges that it was the soldiers of the PIB who were the backbone of this critical operation. Nor does it acknowledge that it was the soldiers of the PIB (with their officers, including Lt John Chalk and Lt Colin Goodman) who went out through the lines to retrieve wounded Australians from the jungle, often from under the noses of the Japanese.

Despite his wound and illness, Jesser’s work in Northern Papua was not finished. His knowledge of the area, built up in early 1942, made him a valuable asset and HQ New Guinea Force needed him on the ground in Northern Papua as soon as possible. By November 1942 he was back as OC A Company PIB, leading a patrol down the Waria River to pick up the remnants of B Company, (which had been cut off since the fighting began) and to test the limits of Japanese occupation above Buna and Gona. The next few months were spent harassing the Japanese from the sago swamps, keeping the door closed on any retreat to the north. It was around this time that Jesser was promoted to Major.

In this task, A Company PIB came into its own fulfilling the role of a guerilla unit. The company inflicted massive casualties on the Japanese for very few losses of their own. Dudley McCarthy (1959) in the official Australian war history sums up their role in the campaign to retake Northern Papua. The PIB, he says, “performed a valuable role both in reconnaissance and as killers of Japanese”.

During the Kokoda campaign members of the PIB were awarded one Distinguished Service Order, one Military Cross, one Distinguished Conduct Medal and four Military Medals.

In total, for the war, the PIB suffered losses of 32 killed and 15 missing in action, while accounting for 1476 Japanese killed, 110 probably killed and 126 taken prisoner. Few Australian units could match such a record in combat.

Many histories have accorded the PIB scant recognition for their wartime contribution. Some writers make the baseless claim that the Papuans deserted. Collie and Marutini (2009) make the absurd assertion that “In many cases, the Papuans had been pressed into joining the military by an authoritarian administration. They had little heart for [the war]”. But it is doubtful if any of those writers ever saw – let alone spoke to – a Papuan soldier. (They certainly wouldn’t want to face one in combat!) The PIB were never pressed into joining and the PIB only recruited the best. They were not equipped for pitched battles. But they excelled in reconnaissance and as a guerilla force – the roles for which their unit was raised. It was for good reason that the Japanese came to refer to the PIB as “Yabanjin Hei” – the savage soldiers – or as “Ryokuin” – green shadows, for their ability to strike without warning and fade back into the jungle as if they were shadows. These men were far from being soldiers with “little heart” for the war. “Green Shadows” became the name the PIB adopted for themselves.

At the outset, the Papuans knew little of what war might entail. But as their knowledge increased, some of them perhaps developed a better understanding than some senior Australian officers of what war on their soil might involve. If Harold Jesser had not taken the initiative to extend his orders and make that critical first wartime crossing to Kokoda, who knows when – or even if – New Guinea Force might have decided they needed to do something about Northern Papua. But the crossing was not due to Harold Jesser alone, because he knew no more about the track to Kokoda than any other Australian in Port Moresby at that time.

Australians probably owe a debt to the unknown Papuan – possibly an ex-policeman – who asked the simple question “Why don’t we go to Kokoda?” In that moment, we could argue that the course for the defence of Port Moresby – and possibly Australia – was determined by a Papuan soldier of the PIB.

References:
Byrnes, G.M. 1989. Green Shadows. G.M. Byrnes, Newmarket, Queensland.

Collie, C. and Marutani, H. 2009. The Path of Infinite Sorrow: The Japanese on the Kokoda Track. Allen & Unwin, Crows Nest NSW.

Hawthorne, N.S. 2003. The Kokoda Trail: A History. Central Queensland University Press, Rockhampton.

Jesser, Harold 1997. Unpublished interview.

McCarthy, D. 1959. South-West Pacific Area – First Year: Kokoda to Wau. Australian War Memorial, Canberra.