Petrol for the Navy PTs Aboard One of the Oldest Ships in World War II by Ed Dennis
In 1943 the tide of battle turned against the Axis Powers. Servicemen down on the New Guinea coast might not have believed this as they attempted to stem the advance of Japanese forces, however. Struggling to keep supply lines open in this isolated area was an odd-ballfleet ofships, nicknamed McArthur's "Small Ships." One of these, the Jane Morehead, turned out to be probably the oldest vessel on either side of World War II actively engaged in combat operations. TheJane Morehead rounded Cape Nelson, the graveyard for ships, and proceeded through the narrow deep water entrance to Tufi fjord, then quickly made fast to the little wharf the US Navy had used for their PT boats. Tufi had been an advance base forthe Navy's PT boats of Task Group 50.1 and was now being used as a divi sion headquarters for ANGAU (Australian-New Guinea Administrative Unit). A company of the Royal Papuan constab ulary was also stationed here. It was December 1943. We had been ordered to load and transport several hundred barrels of high octane gasoline to the Navy 's new PT base at Dreger Harbour, further east along the New Guinea coast. Lieutenant Dave Marshall jumped on board the Jane. "I' ll have six pri soners down within the hour to do the loading," he said , "and Sergeant Jim Smith with some of his constables to guard them . The petrol is going to Dreger Harbour up near Finch, that's where they moved the PT base to. It 's closer to their Jap hunting grounds in the Viteaz Straits. While you Yanks took Arawe the other day the Japs still hold Cape Gloucester and the rest of the New Britain area. At least, that 's what I heard on the wireless last night. " He added that RAAF reconnaissance planes on flights over Rabaul , Wewack and Madang had reported well over 500 planes of all kinds. This was "fair dinkum." The report was later confirmed by Allied Intelligence Command-a large number of the planes were float Zeros and Bettys at various anchorages. A few minutes later the Skipper, in a loud voice, told Cookie that after he was finished making tea and breakfast, he was to put the fire out in hi s galley stove. No more open flames or li ghts till we unloaded our petrol (gasoline) cargo up in Dreger Harbour. Cold tucker and lukewarm water made palatable by fresh warm lime juice would be the fare on theJane for the next few days. About 0800, Sergeant Jim Smith and his six prisoners guarded by a squad of the Royal Papuan Constabulary began rolling the barrels of petrol from their storage area onto the dock. I started up the old one-cylinder horizontal open crankcase diesel, filled its 10 gallon fuel tank, and yelled: "The winch is ready, let's give it a go." With three of the prisoners working in the cargo hold, guarded by a couple of the constables standing above, Al , our mate, supervised the proper stowage of the barrels of petrol in the hold. The other three prisoners worked the dock area. "Easy with them barrels, they 're explosive," the old man roared every so often above the noise of the diesel engine, as the cargo winch swung them precariously over the side of the Jane and then down into her hold. Every half hour or so either Freddy or I had to stop the old 44
"one lunger" diesel , unscrew some brass plugs, and oil its main and connecting rod bearings with an oil can. We would then hand crank the antiquated noisy engine for another half hour run. Sergeant Jim Smith was an old hand working native labor as he had blackbirded for Bums-Philps along the coast before the war, and he was able to fini sh stowing the barrels of gasoline in the cargo hold, plus several dozen more on deck in time for lunch break. About 1300, the two-masted schooner Hildanoring made her appearance through the fiord 's narrow entrance. We moved away from the dock and waited in midstream, to tie up outside her, as we would be leaving first in the morning. She was a coastal schooner too, a hundred or so feet long, another aging beauty of another era that was scuffed and tired from her wartime service. Her almost worn-out Gardner diesel could barely push her along at four or five knots, providing she didn't have too much opposition from Mother Nature. The next morning, the Skipper took a tum or two around the deck of the Jane to restore the circulation in his tired old body. Suddenly it hit him : No hot tea thi s morning! With positive distaste he contemplated his breakfast of stale bread, jam and canned peaches. Disgusted with the outlook, he looked down into the room and suddenly roared: "Chief, are you still hanging in there?" "Let's have a go of it." I told Freddy to start the Vivian diesel up and within a few moments , the sleeping chunk of reliability banged into life. Then, turning to Al , the Skipper said: "Let' s getthe bloody 'ell out of here. " Seconds later, a tremendous explosion shook the Hildanoring. Sheets of flame with billows of smoke erupted from her cargo hold. Her two Australian crew members, who were eating their breakfast on the hatch cover, were blown up into the air and landed over in the dock area. Her Papuan crew boys ran from the dock area. The intense heat and flames were almost unbearable. "Damn it, cut the bloody line, let's get the bloody 'ell out of here," yelled the Skipper. With one swing of his machete, Wilkie slashed the line, then jumped and grabbing a backstay, pulled himself back on board the Jane. " Slow astern," came first on the telegraph, quickly followed by, "full ahead ." Within seconds, we were away from the exploding vessel. Then , the old man yelled: "Gimmy every 'orse you got. Let 's get the 'ell atter 'ere." By now, flames from the H ildanoring 's numerous ruptured barrels of petrol filled the air and covered the waters, making the whole area a watery inferno. Scared to death but nosey, I stuck my head out of the engine room 's overhead entrance just as first one, then another explosion shook the wooden schooner with a force that seemed to break the old girl in half and scatter lethal shrapnel, barrels of gasoline and debris in all directions. Scared stiff, I dropped back down to the protection of my dear old Vivian and the engine room's steel overhead. The Hildanoring, now cut loose from the wharf, drifted across the fiord to the steep cliffs on the other side, scarring the foliage on the inlet 's walls. It sank in about 50 feet of water. Bang, bang, went the telegraph-full ahead 5 mph. Oscar turned to Al and said: "Now we all give three good fella cheer, we go fast away." This was not the first fire at this same wharf. In March, when the PTs 119 and 67 were being refuelled, a native labor SEA HISTORY 59, AUTUMN 1991