Toledo union journal. [volume] (Toledo, Ohio) 1942-current, 1943-02-19
Front Line
In New Guinea
By OSMAR WHITE
(WEU Feature-Through special arrange
ment with Golfers Weekly

mined to find 1T.
After a weeks canoeing into the
interior, / saw the mountains at
dawn one morning. They take your
breath away. The tallest mountains
I've ever seen. One mountain is in
the 14,000-foot class. The track
leads straight over 9,000-foot
pass.
/ pity the men manning this
foothill post on the way to the
front line. They're tired-jungle-
tired to the very bone. They're
thin and yellowed and listless. They
have to dig four-foot deep trench
around their camp and block the
bridges across it because death
adders and rats poster them at
night. When not working, they live
in a huge mosquito net which COW
ers the space for table and chairs
and a little bookshelf. They get
mail once in two or three months.
From here / started the next
morning, up the tough slope,
through dense, damp jungle. The
idea is get the days walking over
before the afternoon rain sets in.
What rain! Straight down, warm
and steamy, drenching to the
marrow. The first Kunds bridge
swayed wildly over roaring rapids
40 feet below.
Where Sun Never Shines
Next day more of the same. Up
and up and up and up. The track
is a cannibal path now, not nine
inches wide. The high airs thin
not half breath in lungful. The
sun has not shone on this mud in
a hundred thousands years. Still
up. Sometimes the trees thin a bit
and one can see a glimse of a
breathtaking blue valley, utterly
blanketed in treetops, sweeping
down 1000 feet onto the snakelike
river, white with rapids and water
falls. Here one may hold shouted
conversation with man a full
days journey away.
Another day and we're over the
crest. Now down and down and
down. Dry, comfortable camps
overlooking rolling, grassy val
ley. Fresh food to make your teeth
water. The only fly in the oint-
ment is the rats in the bedrooms.
They run up under the blanket
with their little cold feet.
Another day and I'm in valley,
hot and magnificent with richness.
There are great stands of hoop
pine. Ny boy brought me a spray
of creamy orchids a foot long.
Met some fellows from the front
line, going out sick. Two of them
had been in the Salamaua show.
They had bad sores from mocka
bites. Mockas are scrub ticks that
carry Asiatic typhus. They call it
Jap river fever up here.
They bit me pretty severely on
the way over and this kunai grass
is swarming with them, but the
iodine bottle keeps them down. The
fellows told grim stories of the
Japs jubilantly relaxing in neat
little grass villages among grin
ming, welfed natives.
Ahead are more hills still, wetter
and sleeper, but this is the last
stretch.
Hears Jap Bomber
I camped under the skirts of
l2,000-foot mountain. About nine
o'clock l heard the unmistakable
high-low drone of a Jap bomber.
l turned off my lantern from habit
and went out. The forest was
ablaze with eerie light; the ground
under the hut flickering mass of
glowworms.
Another day and | reached an
army camp-four great huts, now
housing contingent of Com
mandos going to the front-lean,
stopped youngsters already yellow
ed by fever. They are the first
considerable body of troops I have
seen in nearly 800 miles ow walk
ing.
These are the men who do quiet
execution of every Jap patrol that
dares poke its nose out. Only one
is over 80.
And then finally, the next day,
| was at the front. I went up by
way of a cedar tree to have a look
at the top story. The valley opened
out and far off behind a cloud
bank was the faint sheen of the
sea. Then, like a cue in stage
play, it came-the distant rolling
thunder of machine-gun fire. 1t