Settling In
On arrival, I went directly to the Deputy Controller’s HQ in the “white building” (local government administration building as I recall) in central Arawa to advise the PNGDF security forces that I had arrived and to establish contact with a couple of my past PNGDF colleagues. The HQ was well established with a security picquet and controlled access. My meeting with Colonel Leo Nuia did not go well. I only knew Leo by name as he was in 1PIR in Port Moresby when I was in 2PIR. He was not happy to see me, and asked “what the f…” I thought I was going to do and if I was going to spy on him? I gave him the official response that the deployment had been approved by both our governments. Leo responded by telling me he was the effective government on Bougainville and what might be said in Port Moresby was meaningless. He escorted me outside and as I went to drive off, he pointed to his pistol, smiled, and said, “You’d better watch yourself Young – there are a lot of dangerous people around here!” Message received loud and clear, Colonel!
My next stop was much more enjoyable as I drove to Kieta and my accommodation at the Siromba Hotel owned by one of the great expat characters, Mr Barry Walker, aka ‘the Phantom’. Those who read comics understand the link. The Phantom had owned and managed pubs with his local wife Anna all over PNG, especially in the islands, and was revered by the locals. Barry was a prodigious drinker who, I was told, consumed a carton of beer every day but was never drunk. And it was true! I heard his first stubby hit the rubbish bin in his office below my room around 0700hrs each day and when I returned for kai (food) each night, he was knocking off the last of the carton with nary a slur!
Life seemed to be relatively normal in Arawa and Kieta during my first weeks. There were plenty of people in town shopping at the big supermarket and the hospital and pharmacy were open. Private enterprises like trade stores, service stations and light engineering still appeared to be functioning. Arawa had excellent facilities primarily funded by BCL including the best health services in the Pacific, a trade training centre with fully operational lathes and engines, an outdoor movie theatre at Loloho, a golf course, and a sailing and fishing club. The main topics of conversation were regarding BRA contacts with the security forces, which occurred most days, and when or if the mine would reopen. Meanwhile non-Bougainvilleans (referred to as “red skins” due to their lighter coloured skin) were accessing BCL chartered coastal traders departing from Kieta wharf. I observed that few BCL married quarters were occupied and that the jungle was beginning its reclamation. It was also apparent that the houses were being stripped of useful items, no doubt many being taken by the BRA to their mountain bases behind Arawa.
My first two major incidents occurred on the same day about 14 days into my deployment. The first occurred on the golf course (not surprising given my love of golf) and the second, more serious, on the way from the course to the Siromba Hotel. I recall it was a Sunday and, as there were no ships at the wharf, I decided to have a look at the golf course and found about 20-30 cars in the carpark. The patrons had decided to wind up the club and were playing their last event before intending to drink the club dry. (I returned to the clubhouse three days later to find about five people still drinking Negrita rum and raspberry cordial – yuk.)
I was invited to play with borrowed clubs by a senior BCL executive whom I think was named Long Keet. I was on the 6th hole, a par 3 and about to putt when a mortar was fired from almost directly behind me in a re-entrant only 20 metres away. We of course hit the deck and, on recovery, I jogged over to the base plate hidden from view and found a young officer in command whom I had known from 2PIR. After being greeted warmly, I asked Danny to “check fire” while we finished putting, nothing like getting your priorities sorted! Once we headed for the next tee the fire mission resumed. I’m not sure the HOM Allan Taylor believed me when I briefed him that night on what had occurred.
The second incident occurred when I was returning from golf to the Siromba Hotel. I came across a line-up of cars on the ridge above Kieta with most cars abandoned and engines running. On going forward, I found that a regular customer from the Siromba Hotel had been hit in the head by a large piece of jagged metal from a homemade shot gun cartridge fired from a roadside ambush. The civilian was not badly wounded but had a large piece of metal imbedded in the centre of his forehead and lots of blood. After getting him to hospital, I saw him the next night at the Siromba Hotel, his head covered in bandages, his face badly swollen and being shouted with multiple beers for being the first Siromba patron to have been wounded in the conflict. Australians have a warped sense of humour, especially in difficult times!
As hostilities intensified, my role in helping people to leave the island increased and a regular flow of coastal traders transported people to Rabaul. My nightly radio discussions with the High Commission in Port Moresby covered many topics, particularly my assessment of whether an Australian-facilitated evacuation may be required? I felt the voluntary evacuation was going well although it did become apparent that the policy of providing consular support only for Commonwealth nationals would be unworkable. There were many Europeans working at the mine plus Canadians and Americans most of whom were seeking advice or assistance. Finally, the Foreign Minister, Gareth Evans, agreed that if an Australian-sponsored evacuation was authorised then we would accept all nationalities. Throughout, the High Commission staff were pro-active and continually asked how they could make my job easier and reminding me to evacuate if the level of risk became unacceptable. There were many contacts between the security forces and the BRA, but I don’t recall feeling that I was being targeted by either side despite what Leo Nuia had said on my arrival. However, I was always cautious and ensured my communicator knew my daily program as he did not leave our base.
After the ambush on the ridge above Kieta, it was agreed by the HOM and HADS that I would do a daily reconnaissance to the Kieta wharf to confirm the road was clear of ambushes before escorting the evacuees. This was considered a good way to give confidence to the displaced who were often leaving at short notice with nothing more than a suitcase each; not sure it did the same for me, noting I was without a ballistic vest, helmet or weapon. However, I have no doubt carrying a weapon would have made me more of a target for the BRA.
After completing a “recon” of the road to the wharf and escorting a group of evacuees to a coastal trader on one occasion, two mortar rounds landed at the southern end of the wharf narrowly missing four large BCL fuel tankers that were awaiting to be moved offshore. Fortunately, no casualties resulted, but there were many frightened families on the wharf that morning and the ship’s captain was less than keen to remain alongside. I immediately drove up the hill away from Kieta and located the PNGDF mortar section responsible for firing the mission. I ran across the road and assured the mortar line Sergeant in command that no BRA were at the wharf, only evacuees. He informed me that he wasn’t firing at the wharf and was unaware that the fall of shot was hitting the wharf. I asked to look at his map and plotting board. The Sergeant dutifully removed the board from his hutchie where the board was being used as his breakfast table! I explained that although he was firing on the correct bearing the rounds were cresting the hill behind the wharf, almost destroying the wharf and 4 fuel tankers, and potentially injuring about 150 people. A mortar fire controller officer (normally a Corporal) was not observing the fall of shot as the unit had no trained members. Check fire again!
Panguna Visit
I was fortunate to be offered a visit into the mountains west of Arawa to the Panguna mine site by BCL executives who were doing their final checks of the mine before they left the island. We were provided with an RPNGC escort vehicle and several heavily-armed police officers in the back.
The drive of about 20km was not pleasant as I was expecting to be stopped or ambushed at any time. The road was narrow and winding with continuous blind corners, and with limited visibility due to the tropical mist. Destroyed pylons paralleled the mine road and were a salient reminder of the BRA’s omni-presence. The mine is an incredible feat of engineering with the pit at least 1km deep and probably 2km in diameter and when in full production was providing over 40% of PNG’s export earnings. The mine area was a massive scar on the surrounding vegetation and could be seen clearly from space. The mine was surrounded by multiple 3-4 story barracks and administrative buildings and huge numbers of trucks and earthmoving plant.
It took no time to realise why the locals were so determined to receive compensation which morphed into demands for independence again – they had previously declared independence on 14 September 1975, two days before PNG declared independence – not only for their lost land but for the destruction and contamination caused to their land and livelihood, particularly the Jaba River and their local gardens. The mine site was a massive scar on the landscape, and it was obvious no amount of money would ever compensate for the damages caused through open-cut mining. The PNG Government received handsome royalties, but I saw no evidence of these royalties being used to help local landowners or rehabilitate the environmental degradation.
Part 3: The Crises continues