Today is a very special occasion. As we commemorate the loss of men on the Montevideo Maru on the 1st July 1942, we reflect on all our fathers, grandfathers, brothers, uncles and friends who lost their life because of the fall of Rabaul in January of that year and we honour their courage and their sacrifice.
This historical event significantly impacted on the lives of so many -the families who then called Papua New Guinea home; administration officers, business men, planters, traders and missionaries; the families of Lark Force including members of the Salvation Army Band and the families of those on board the Norwegian vessel, the Herstein.
The selflessness of the men who died has endured, forever etched in the minds of their families and all their mates who survived -who themselves had extraordinary and heroic stories of escapes.
Four generations of my family lived in New Guinea. My father and his siblings were born there. Theirs was a happy, carefree childhood full of spirited adventure on a tropical island. When war came, my father was at boarding school in Australia and told not to return home for the Christmas holidays.
The women and children (boys under 16 only) of the New Guinea Territories of New Britain and New Ireland were hurriedly evacuated by ship to Australia. My grandmother and aunt, then 11 years old, were given a day’s notice to pack a few clothes into a small suitcase. Luckily coming from the tropical heat, it was summer in Australia.
The women and children gathered at the ship and as the men finished their day’s work they joined their families. My aunt recalls the adults speaking earnestly, in hushed voices. As the women and children bid farewell to their men, the children had no thought that they would never see their fathers again.
A few letters from their men came through in the three short weeks following the evacuation of the women and children -they talked of the air-raids in Rabaul and the loneliness of life without their families. Many of the civilians had been too old to enlist and when the occupation occurred in late January, just over six weeks after Pearl Harbour, the men were encouraged to surrender.
Sadly, there were no reinforcements and no escape plans into the dense mountainous jungle outside Rabaul. Five months later, towards the end of June, the men boarded the Montevideo Maru and left Rabaul.
On reaching Australia the women and children were scattered in all directions. Some returned to live with family but for others, there was no home to go to. The civilian families were not only separated from their men, but also from their homes and their community. Then began nearly four long, very long, years of silence. Many struggled. They had to work hard to house and to feed and clothe their families. Rumours caused them to be anxious and letters were sent to the authorities asking for news of their men-folk. But it was war and news was filtered. Never once did
they give up hope that they would be reunited with their men.
Imagine the shock when, as war ended and the months still passed with no news, the grim realisation of the terrible tragedy unfolded. Whilst other families celebrated, hope turned into horror and, eventually, overwhelming sadness. Telegrams confirmed that over 1000 troops and civilians from Rabaul had disappeared with the Montevideo Maru. Questions were asked but not satisfactorily answered.
The majority of the men who had been instrumental in the development of the town of Rabaul had all gone. As in all theatres of war, many heartbreaking stories remained and lives were forever changed.
My father not only lost his father and uncle but his two best friends who were living in Rabaul -the boys were over 16 and therefore considered too old to be evacuated. Many of the troops who had come from Australia were barely 18 and 19 years of age. I’ve often looked at my son, now 20, and thought how different life was for my father.
A few families, like mine, returned to re-build a new life in New Guinea. Families didn’t discuss what had happened to their men. It was just too horrific to think about. There was scant information and they had to work hard to survive. Communication and transparency weren’t what they are now.
The silence meant that the next generation had limited opportunities to learn the story and, even today, many descendants do not know they had a relative involved in what is Australia’s greatest maritime disaster.
The men who were lost with the Montevideo Maru deserve to be remembered. Their story is one that we should all know and that our nations should know. It deserves this recognition. This memorial will help make that happen.
I know many who would have liked to have been here today -direct siblings and descendants who couldn’t -because of age and because, for them, the wounds are, simply, still too raw.
It was many years before a memorial to the men of Lark Force, the NGVR and the civilians who had gone, was erected on the foreshore in Rabaul’s Simpson Harbour. It marks the point at which the prisoners left Papua New Guinea and the memorial in Subic Bay now serves to honour their final resting place.
This peaceful and beautiful setting will become a place of significance and a place of pilgrimage.
I am hugely grateful to those whose tireless efforts and commitment have made today possible.
Thank you to Ambassador Rod Smith for being here. To Lt Col Gary Barnes for all his efforts …to Defence Attache Vic Jones.
To the great Memorial team: Randy Anderson, Bob Chester and Spike Nasmyth. I know there will be others and I want you all to know how special this day is to so many.
To Clive Troy and Harriet -thank you for your vision in picking up the significance of this -what you’ve done has been amazing. Keith Jackson and the Montevideo Maru Memorial Committee will continue to ensure these men are not forgotten. To Phil Ainsworth and the NGVR/PNGVR Ex-members Association, Lark Force, the Greenbank RSL and the Papua New Guinea Association of Australia -those who supported the
plaque, thank you too.
As I said earlier, it is a special day today, particularly for the families, as it acknowledges what happened to their men
Some of the relatives asked me to spend a few moments of quiet contemplation on their behalf whilst [here]. I am proud to honour the memory of all the men who perished in Rabaul and on board the ship and who sacrificed so much on behalf of liberty and peace.