Landing craft up the Sepik DPR/TV/1317

Soldiers of the Papua-New Guinea Transportation Squadron..the Army's small craft unit in the Territory, based at Port Moresby..can add the mighty Sepik River to their list of achievements. Three landing craft..a 100 ton ALC50 and two smaller LCM8s..travelled the torturous, serpentine, Sepik from its mouth about 550 miles to the West Irian border. The voyage was an exercise for the crews of the three landing craft to check the navigability of the river and to investigate the many smaller streams, barets and meanders. For mile upon mile from the mouth, sac sac and wild sugar-cane hems in the muddy yellow waters. Here and there, native villages hold tenuous positions on the banks which often collapse with the passing of the swift waters. Here and there, native gardens are hacked from the wild sugar-cane and kunai grass, but back off the river, swamps become the hunting ground for crocodiles. On and on the river goes, winding and twisting, doubling back on itself so that an hour's steaming might mean a straight-line gain of 100 yds. For miles there is nothing to be seen except sand and mudbanks, the occasional flock of river birds and the never-ending wild sugar-cane. One morning, miles from civilisation, the landing craft strike smog, caused by the combination of early morning river mist and smoke from native fires set to flush crocodiles. A sharp watch has to be kept in this soup. Floating logs and snags, native canoes, and even floating islands, cut off by the rushing waters, can suddenly loom up ahead. But it's not the floating logs or snags that cause the first damage to the landing craft. A huge log, floating a few feet under the surface, is hit by an LCM8, damaging the cooling system. A watch is set for the lurking crocodile, and a few rounds fired into the water to discourage any that might be around, and the work begins to remove and if possible, repair the damaged part. The keel cooler, through which hot water from the engines pass and is cooled under the landing craft, is barely recognisable, but a simple rerouting of the system, and the "fleet" continues on. A flat bottomed assault craft races on ahead of the pondorous landing craft, investigating creeks and river banks. Crossing the wake of the landing craft is no place for a weak stomach. On and on, with the log line spinning off the miles. At Kanganaman, the crews take time off to visit a haus tambran, or spirit house, one of the last of its kind left on the river. Development and cultural change is making their way into every village even in this remote area, but this haus tambaran has been declared National Cultural property and the villagers take great care to maintain it as it was built in 1948. The local people delight in explaining the history of the carvings to visitors and take little persuading to demonstrate their skill on the booming garamut or carvan drum. The two-storey building is over 75 ft high and is reserved strictly for the men of the village as a meeting place and for ceremonial. Further upriver, the flat, featureless countryside suddenly sprouts hills. Here is Ambunti, with its high banks, airfield beginning at the top of the river bank and ending against a mountain wall, and sub-district headquartrs. The landing craft stayed at this historic place overnight. It was here that the first administration official called in the thousands of warriors from surrounding tribes to talk and make peace. It was a tremendous bluff, for he had only a few policemen to ensure the meeting did not turn into a battle. Today Ambunti is a quiet, neat post where the arrival of the three landing craft made a change from the smaller launches and sppedboats which normally ply the river. From Ambunti to Kubkain, a village some 50 miles upstream where a lone Catholic priest, Father Phillip Campbell, lives with the native people. Here, water tanks and two prefabricated houses for quarters for teachers at the new school here were unloaded. The Local Government Council had asked the Army to bring the buildings from Wewak. Here too medical aid by the medic with the landing craft, caused plenty of interest amongst the villagers. Now the current is getting stronger, and the snags more numerous. Often the landing craft stirs up the muddy bottom, but rarely does the hidden mudbank cause the flat-bottomed landing craft much trouble. But when the "fleet" turns off into the August River, it's a different story. The lead man takes soundings all the way, as the landing craft creep along the jungle-rimmed waterway. With falling water, the landing craft skippers dare not go too far, but they manage seven miles, a distance never reached before by craft of this size. And then, on to the furtherest point...the border...but the six-knot current slows progress and is bringing a lot of logs downstream. Most of them are submerged and an LCM8's port engines is crippled when a log jams the propellor. Again, crewmen go over the side to try to free it, but this time the current makes the job harder, and lifelines have to be used. When this happens, the logs sometimes have to be demolished piece by piece to free them. After 10 days in the river, the landing craft stop near the border of Papua-New Guinea and West Irian. It has been about 550 miles and the first time on record that craft of this size (the ALC50 has a draught of about 5 ft 6 in and the LCM8s about 5 ft) have reached this far up river during the low water season. To mark the occasion, the soldiers erected a mooring post with the unit's name set in concrete to commemorate the voyage. Also identified: Sapper (Spr) Bruno Kitare of Bougainville; Spr Lucas Touargar of Rabaul; Spr Kayo (Blue) Notemba of Lae; Corporal (Cpl) Barry Harrison of Canley Vale, NSW; Spr Ben Siri of Morobe; Spr Abai Gibere of Kikori; Private John Saka of Admin Coy, 1PIR; Warrant Officer 2 Keith Doig of Newmarket, Qld; Cpl Ron Stacy of Port Augusta, SA; Captain Col Cox of Camp Hill, Qld; Cpl Drew Baker of Kalgoorlie, WA.