February 25, 2020 • 24 mins
18 February 1942. Air reconnaissance sights an enormous Japanese invasion force steaming south from the Celebes on a direct course for Timor. A group of 29 Australian airmen remain behind to keep an aerodrome on Dutch Timor operational, helping aircraft from RAAF Station Darwin make their way to Java. When the aircraft due to evacuate the group fails to arrive, 24-year-old Flight Lieutenant Bryan Rofe makes a fateful decision.
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(00:02):
Men and women of Australia, we are at
war with Japan.
Thus we have official announcements from the White
House that Japanese airplanes have attacked Pearl Harbor
in Hawaii and have now attacked Army and
Navy bases in Manila, where hostilities now seem
(00:24):
to be actually opening over the whole South
Pacific.
Describe destructive air raids on Malaya and a
land attack on both Singapore and the British
Colony of Hong Kong.
Japanese troops have crossed Thailand's border and have
started to drive on the Burma Road.
There, north of Singapore, this vast Japanese expedition
must be crushed and kept away from the
attacks on the Netherlands, East Indies and Australia.
(00:50):
February 1942.
Two months since fighting broke out in Southeast
Asia and the Pacific, and the Empire of
Japan already controls one of the largest areas
of land and sea in human history.
British Malaya, British North Borneo and Ambon are
lost.
Guam and Hong Kong have been seized.
The Philippines and Sumatra have been invaded and
(01:13):
then, on February 15, the unthinkable.
The civilized world reels beneath the news that
Singapore, proud impregnable bastion, will fall.
Britain's impregnable fortress of Singapore, the Gibraltar of
the East, is lost.
There seems no way of stopping Japan's relentless
southern thrust, and the Japanese are eyeing their
(01:35):
next target, Timor.
On the morning of February 18, on a
flattened coral aerodrome called Penfoe in Dutch Timor,
Wing Commander Frank Hedlum walks towards a mess
hut filled with officers and airmen of Number
(01:56):
Two Squadron.
27-year-old Hedlum is the commanding officer
of Two Squadron, a Royal Australian Air Force
Hudson Squadron.
The men waiting for him in the mess
hut are mostly ground personnel, including mechanics, electricians,
engine fitters and armourers.
There are also officers and airmen skilled in
cipher, signals, intelligence and meteorology.
(02:18):
Hedlum is about to deliver some bad news
to his men.
Hours earlier, reconnaissance reported a massive Japanese task
force steaming from the north towards Timor across
the Banda Sea.
Invasion is inevitable.
Shortly after reading the reconnaissance report, Hedlum received
(02:38):
a signal from his superiors at RAF Station
Darwin issuing a partial evacuation of the Penfoe
aerodrome.
Since the fall of Singapore, holding Java has
become vital, and that means owning the skies
above the island.
But Java is dangerously short on fighters.
There are 10 American P-40 Kittyhawks languishing
at RAF Station Darwin.
(02:59):
To get them to Java, men are needed
at Penfoe to service and refuel them.
To Hedlum, it must be hard to believe
that 10 lousy P-40s will make the
slightest difference in the defence of Java.
But while Hedlum may have his orders, that
doesn't mean he's going to blithely select a
party from the 100-plus personnel stationed on
Penfoe to remain behind.
(03:21):
Not without asking them first.
Men, I've just received a signal ordering a
general evacuation of this base.
Only a skeleton crew is to remain behind
to keep up essential services.
I will need volunteers to staff the signals
section to maintain radio communication with Darwin, and
ground crew to service our aircraft staging through.
(03:42):
Now you can be sure that every effort
will be made to pick up and fly
back to Darwin the men who carry out
these duties.
So, who of you will remain behind?
Throughout the two months they've been operating out
of Penfoe, Hedlum's men have endured illness, endless
work and numerous Japanese raids.
Despite this, every man volunteers to stay.
(04:06):
Hedlum says he'll announce the make-up of
the rear party within the hour.
In the meantime, he is making available the
remaining supply of beer to any off-duty
personnel.
Except the grog.
We drink the grog before we leave.
Nothing will be left to the enemy.
Hedlum turns his mind to selecting those who
will stay behind and the man that will
lead them.
(04:27):
The group of airmen he selects will become
designated the RAF Rear Party on Timor.
Over six episodes, I will tell you about
those airmen, of how they came to be
stranded on Timor, of the men who risked
their lives to try and rescue them, and
those sent to hunt them down.
I found the story in official reports, journals,
(04:49):
diaries, letters, memoirs, interrogations and court transcripts from
war crimes tribunals held in the National Archives
of Australia, the Australian War Memorial, the National
Archives in Washington DC, and personal collections.
I also heard it from survivors.
In retelling this story, I've kept to the
facts.
Where actors have been used to voice parts
(05:09):
of real characters, they are speaking lines taken
from primary source material.
Dramatic sequences have been carefully recreated using multiple
sources which can be found in the show
notes.
What follows is a story of survival, courage,
leadership, mateship, and at certain points, cruelty and
violence.
But for me, this story is intensely personal,
(05:30):
because the officer wing commander Hedlum would ultimately
select to command the rear party was my
grandfather.
Men and women of Australia.
I'm Tom Trumbull, and this is Trapped.
(05:51):
The story of one of the greatest escapes
of the Pacific War.
Chapter One.
Invasion.
Hedlum is discussing the makeup of the rear
(06:11):
party with several officers.
In the case of five of his men,
flying officer Arthur Cole and four other airmen,
they'll remain behind by default.
Cole and his men are at present salvaging
parts from nine fighter aircraft that force landed
far to the east, near the border of
Portuguese Timor.
They aren't expected to be back until the
(06:33):
day of the expected invasion.
Hedlum decides that, including the salvage team, the
rear party will comprise 23 ground personnel and
wireless staff, and six officers.
The makeup of the party is as follows.
Hedlum is back in the mess, reading out
(06:55):
the names of the men who remain behind.
The number of airmen chosen is the bare
minimum to service the Kittyhawks, maintain communications with
Darwin, and make final preparations before evacuation.
The six officers of the party are Arthur
Cole, Peter Thompson, Jock Birchall, Bill Arthur and
(07:15):
Ken Greaves.
And the commanding officer is Brian Rofe.
There is a ripple of surprise at Brian's
selection as commander.
Brian is a meteorological officer attached to the
aerodrome rather than number two squadron.
Most of the airmen barely know him.
He nonetheless has command experience.
He was the most senior officer in the
first detachment sent to Timor five months earlier,
(07:37):
responsible for a small group of personnel.
He oversaw the building of a transmitting station,
a signal station, an ops hut, and barracks
in two months, all while sending weather reports
back to Darwin.
To complete the task, Brian was given a
labour force of over 1,000 Timorese men.
The job was finished on a tight schedule
and in the process, Brian picked up a
(07:59):
bit of Malay, the predominant language of Dutch
Timor.
He won high praise from the Timorese who
called him Tuan Besai, the big boss.
But nobody thought higher of Brian as an
officer than Hedlum himself.
Flight Lieutenant Brian Rofe was outstanding in general
duties.
He worked untiringly in looking after the safety
and welfare of both air and ground crews.
(08:22):
In the last month after the unit medical
officer had been sent back to Darwin with
malaria, Rofe did excellent work looking after the
sick.
He was at all times energetic and cheerful
and was an inspiration to other personnel.
For these reasons, he was selected to lead
the party.
Among the other five officers of the rear
party, Hedlum includes Pilot Officer Peter Thompson.
(08:44):
Twenty-three-year-old Peter is the only
trained pilot in the group, but a shortage
of Hudson bombers has meant that for four
weeks he's been stuck on Timor.
Beyond the close friendship he had forged with
Brian, everyone admires and respects Peter.
Hedlum also knew that if things went bad,
Brian would need a close and trusted confidant.
(09:06):
The rear party is comprised of men aged
between 19 and 41.
They come from all parts of Australia and
have different musterings or jobs in the RAF.
But a 22-year-old engine fitter, leading
aircraftman Bob Oliver, notices one thing they all
have in common.
They're all single.
No wives, no dependents.
(09:28):
There's a rumour that Bob and others had
heard that when a group was selected for
a dangerous mission where the prospect of survival
was far from assured, only single men were
chosen.
At 3.30 in the morning, the day
before the expected arrival of the Japanese invasion
fleet, Brian Rofe escorts Hedlum to one of
(09:50):
the five Lockheed Hudson's that will take the
commanding officer and his men back to Darwin.
The plan is simple.
The ten Kitty Hawks will stage through around
noon that day.
Later that afternoon, Hedlum will send back two
Hudson's from Darwin to pick up the rear
party 12 hours before the expected arrival of
the invasion fleet.
(10:11):
Good luck Rofe.
The two men shake hands and Hedlum boards
the plane.
Brian watches on as Hedlum's plane clears the
jungle at the end of the runway and
disappears into the night sky.
Here's what Brian wrote at the beginning of
his official report of what happened next.
(10:31):
I was left in charge of the RAF
party of six officers and 23 men after
wing commander Hedlum was ordered back to Darwin
on the night of the 18th of February.
It was arranged with him that Hudson's would
return the following night to evacuate the remaining
personnel.
Unfortunately, this could not be done.
(10:56):
Daybreak, February 18, the day before Hedlum departs
Timor with the bulk of his men.
Flying officer Arthur Cole is eating breakfast with
four Australian airmen in a hut in a
Dutch army outpost deep in the Timorese jungle.
Their salvage mission is nearly complete.
Soon they will head back to Penfoe.
(11:17):
Cole is a ruggedly built 35-year-old
equipment officer that Hedlum turns to for every
salvage operation.
He's admired within two squadron with an enthusiasm
generally reserved for pilots.
A Dutch soldier hands Cole a communique sent
from Hedlum, ordering Cole and his men back
to the aerodrome before the scheduled evacuation of
the rear party, which will happen in the
(11:38):
evening of February 19.
To make it in time, the sensible course
of action would be to dump the salvage
gear.
Cole has other ideas.
Change of plan, fellas.
Just got this message from Frank Hedlum.
We have to get back to the drone
ASAP.
I've spoken to these Dutch boys.
They say there are canoes on the beach.
We're going to take the gear to the
(11:59):
beach, load it into the canoe...
They trek through the jungle with the salvage
gear, which includes heavy machine guns and radio
parts.
Pick it up, boys.
Eventually they arrive at the coastal village where
their transport awaits.
Just think, this time tomorrow we'll all be
back in Darwin.
Timorese porters help carry their load to the
beach before they all pile the gear into
two large outrigger canoes.
(12:20):
They paddle five kilometres to their awaiting transport,
and when they get there, the transport has
vanished, commandeered by a Dutch unit.
Time is running short.
Cole and his salvage party appear to be
stranded.
It's one in the morning on February 20,
back at the Penfoe aerodrome.
(12:42):
Brian is briefing his men in the mess.
The ten P-40s never showed up and
neither did the two Hudsons.
Repeated attempts to hail Darwin all through the
previous day have failed.
There's only one explanation.
Darwin has been hit, and hit hard.
The evacuation is off, at least for now.
They're going to have to quit the aerodrome
(13:03):
and make for the jungle.
The airmen are seated on wooden benches.
None of those men have slept in two
days.
They've already been told to pack haversacks that
they dub piss-off kits, holding their essential
items.
Brian orders flying officer Jock Birchall to take
half the men in one of the two
GMC trucks they have at their disposal, and
(13:24):
head south for Paha River.
At 41 years of age, Birchall is the
old man of the group.
He's an intelligence officer born in Manchester who
served in the Royal Welsh Fusiliers during the
British occupation of Germany after the First World
War.
Brian will stick around with Peter and the
wireless team in the hope of hailing Darwin
and requesting a flying boat rescue at the
(13:45):
mouth of the Paha.
The wireless team had organised a portable transceiver,
but it's untested.
Brian figures his best chance of getting a
signal to Darwin is with Penfoe's powerful transmitter.
They would then rendezvous with Birchall's group for
a shoreline evacuation.
That's when they hear it.
An approaching engine.
(14:09):
The airmen step outside.
Eventually a truck's dimmed-out headlights is seen
careening up the road towards the mess.
When it stops, all the dust and debris
that had been trailing in its wake rushes
past the bonnet and into the eyes of
the stunned onlookers.
The car's occupants are jammed in alongside eight
Kitty Hawk machine guns, radio sets, and other
(14:29):
spare parts.
Where are those Hudson's that were supposed to
take us out of this hole?
There won't be any Hudson's, Arthur.
The mountain road between the Dutch Army jungle
outpost and the aerodrome generally took more than
ten hours.
Cole had done it in seven and mostly
in the dark.
Brian surely smiled.
(14:49):
His strongest man had returned.
They'd need Cole's stamina and fortitude for what
awaited them in the jungle.
As the first rays of sunshine break over
Timor, Brian receives a message in the SIG
station from an AIF soldier.
(15:10):
Enemy troops are landing in force on the
southern coast.
There's no exact fix on the number of
Japanese, but there are thousands of them, and
they're landing near the mouth of the Paha
River.
Birchell will be walking into a slaughter.
Brian and Peter run out of the SIG
station and look up.
High above, they see the oversized floats of
(15:31):
a small Japanese seaplane.
Incendiaries rain down on their position.
Japanese ships are shelling the drove.
Sitting out to sea from a point beyond
the view of the airmen, the light cruiser
Jintsu is leading two destroyers in the naval
bombardment of Timor.
The seaplane is coordinating the naval gunfire.
(15:54):
The shelling steps up in ferocity, the assault
reducing the wooden barracks to rubble and caving
in the wall of the aircraft hangar.
The naval barrage stays clear of the coral
strips.
It seems the Japanese intend to keep the
strips intact for their own use.
Australian soldiers have other ideas.
Coral explodes in fountain-like bursts along the
(16:17):
entire length of the runway.
Australian soldiers start setting off mines laid in
the strips weeks earlier.
They're under orders to destroy the runways the
very moment the Japanese attack.
The strips are reduced to craters and rubble
in minutes.
If the Hudson suddenly turned up, they'd have
nowhere to land.
Brian runs back inside the SIG station and
(16:38):
orders a signalman to advise Darwin that the
runway is destroyed and to suggest alternative rescue
points.
The invasion force is still a day's march
away.
Brian is going to wait out the storm,
giving Darwin every chance to signal them.
He changes his mind almost instantly.
The ground shakes, knocking Brian over.
(16:59):
Bright orange pillars of flame propel hundreds of
feet in the air, not far from the
transmitter.
No sooner has the explosion billowed into clouds
of black smoke than a fresh set of
fiery columns shoot skywards.
The soldiers are sending up the bomb dumps
near the transmitting station, half a kilometre away.
Brian decides it's time to leave.
Finding that we could not get anything out
(17:21):
of Darwin, and shells were coming uncomfortably close,
bomb dumps with 750-pound bombs going up
in batches of 30, and the blowing of
the drone continuing, I decided to hit the
trail as we were merely sitting on our
tails, just waiting.
Brian and the remaining 13 men cram into
the back of the truck.
(17:41):
Brian looks up.
The float plane has gone.
Something new is happening.
Brian shouts at his men in the back
of the truck to hold on.
Brian and Peter jump into the front cab
and the driver floors it.
They head out of Penfoe along the Dilley
Road, the single track that connects Timor's two
(18:01):
major towns, Copang in the west and Dilley
in Portuguese Timor in the east.
The army's fixed defences and coastal batteries are
arranged in close proximity to the road.
This stretch of road is soon to become
the most dangerous place in Timor.
As they drive, Brian and Peter lean forward,
scanning the skies through the windows.
(18:24):
The sound of anti-aircraft batteries tell the
men in the truck that they're coming.
The scream of diving zeros and machine gun
bursts ring loudly over the sound of the
truck's engine.
Then the zeros clear off and Brian sees
them.
A large formation of Betty bombers are coming
in fast from the north.
The ground quakes as the fixed defences are
(18:47):
carpet bombed.
Brian registers one thought as all hell breaks
loose.
Timor is lost.
The truck makes it through the bombing raid.
(19:08):
In the front of the cab and with
the threat momentarily passed, Peter Thompson's mind wanders
to the pain in his leg.
Never the type to complain or voice his
own ills, he's told no one about the
small wound he received days earlier on the
back of his leg that has now begun
to fester.
Beside him, Brian's mind turns to Jock Burchell.
(19:30):
They must try to catch up with him
and the other men before the Japanese invasion
force lands and Brian knows the only way
to get to the southern coast is along
a track that intersects with the dilly road
at a village called Babau and that's where
they're headed.
The driver has the accelerator down the whole
way.
Babau is little more than a few Timorese
(19:50):
huts.
Brian finds the village practically deserted.
No sign of Burchell and the others.
The driver stops the truck near a command
post where a small detachment of soldiers and
medical non-combatants wander around looking lost and
terrified.
Brian leaps out of the truck and starts
asking questions.
Hey you there, wait, I'm looking for a
(20:11):
group...
They tell him Burchell and the airmen were
in Babau when the southern invasion was reported.
The airmen decided to head farther east to
the Sparrow Force headquarters in the village of
Champlong.
Brian breathes a sigh of relief.
He thanks those men and wishes them good
luck.
He'd be the last allied serviceman to see
the detachment of men alive.
(20:34):
Brian races back to the truck and takes
stock of his men.
Corporal Roy Andrews is smoking a cigarette and
cracking jokes, as relaxed as if he were
enjoying a Sunday drive through the country.
He's known to have a good sense of
humour and for making light of seriously dangerous
situations.
His efforts to do so are always welcomed.
Told you I was turning this place into
an inferno and I can't get a flame
(20:54):
to light me last smoke.
He's talking with leading aircraftman Clyde Pappen, leading
aircraftman Len Burke and private Clem Clements.
Army signalman Clements had been on loan to
2 Squadron to ease the burden on the
aerodrome's personnel shortage for the last few weeks
and Brian had completely forgot about him.
Clem should be with the 2nd 40th Battalion,
(21:14):
preparing to fight with his unit, but there's
no way of knowing where they are.
Looking back from where they came, Brian can
hear the sound of explosions and the whine
of enemy fighters and machine gun bursts, but
the guns from the sea are silent.
Brian knows this means another bombing raid is
coming.
Listen up.
Before he jumps into the cab, he tells
(21:35):
his men that they will stop for fighters
but they won't stop for bombers.
Anyone spots a Zero...
A service truck has no hope of outrunning
a Zero fighter aircraft, but a bomber pilot
wouldn't waste his payload on a moving target.
If they get caught under a bombing run,
that's just bad luck.
Brian climbs into the cab and the truck
roars off.
As the adrenaline slowly seeps out of his
(21:56):
body, he feels a wave of exhaustion.
He calculates that he hasn't slept in 51
hours.
He turns to his friend, Peter, who's been
up with him for that whole time.
Peter looks terrible.
Worse than he should, notwithstanding the stress, fear
and sleeplessness.
Before Brian can ask after him, a curtain
(22:17):
of black smoke and flame envelops the world
not far behind them.
Brian looks up and sees another flight of
Betty bombers heading off.
Then someone starts banging on the roof of
the cab.
Look!
Zeros!
Stop the truck!
Fighters!
Fighters!
The driver slams on the brakes and everyone
hops out of the truck.
Take cover!
Machine gun fire rips up the ground around
(22:38):
them.
They've stopped in the middle of a field.
There's basically nowhere to hide.
They dive into ditches either side of the
road as a second Zero strafes the truck.
That's when Brian hears it.
A low, indistinct drone getting louder.
Brian looks back behind him.
(22:58):
A formation of 27 Japanese aircraft approaches.
They look like bombers, but they're coming in
far too low.
Brian and his men are routed to the
spot.
The aircraft are directly overhead.
The men on the ground steel themselves.
This is it.
But instead of bombs falling out of the
(23:18):
planes, the sky fills with parachute canopies.
We were about seven minutes out of Babau
when I stopped the truck and allowed the
mob to scatter.
Wave after wave of bombers flew over and
dropped paratroopers.
It looks like there are hundreds of them
and they're about 30 seconds from landing.
Everyone back in the truck!
Get up!
Move!
Move!
(23:39):
Move!
The driver is back in the truck in
a blink.
He turns the key in the ignition.
Get us out of here!
Come on!
The engine doesn't start.
Next time on Trapped.
With a native population of 700,000 ruled
(23:59):
prior to February 1942 by Dutch and Portuguese,
Timor is today ostensibly Japanese.
I shall represent the eastern people to make
all of our anger blown up in the
faces of the Anglo-Saxons.
You and your men are to hold the
Dili Road.
The Dili Road.
(24:20):
We're far away in Japanese.
30 men have never been thrown.
Well, I won't get hold of the Dili
Road.
We've never held the Dili Road against 500
paratroopers just like that.
Brigadier Veal, with respect, sir, we are 29
men with barely any small arms training.
You have your orders.
Now go out there and hold that bloody
road!
(24:46):
Trapped was written and produced by Tom Trumbull
with Sam Loy, James Milsom and Ryan Pemberton
for the Australian War Memorial.
Men and women of Australia, we are at
war with Japan.
Thus we have official announcements from the White
House that Japanese airplanes have attacked Pearl Harbor
in Hawaii and have now attacked Army and
Navy bases in Manila, where hostilities now seem
(00:24):
to be actually opening over the whole South
Pacific.
Describe destructive air raids on Malaya and a
land attack on both Singapore and the British
Colony of Hong Kong.
Japanese troops have crossed Thailand's border and have
started to drive on the Burma Road.
There, north of Singapore, this vast Japanese expedition
must be crushed and kept away from the
attacks on the Netherlands, East Indies and Australia.
(00:50):
February 1942.
Two months since fighting broke out in Southeast
Asia and the Pacific, and the Empire of
Japan already controls one of the largest areas
of land and sea in human history.
British Malaya, British North Borneo and Ambon are
lost.
Guam and Hong Kong have been seized.
The Philippines and Sumatra have been invaded and
(01:13):
then, on February 15, the unthinkable.
The civilized world reels beneath the news that
Singapore, proud impregnable bastion, will fall.
Britain's impregnable fortress of Singapore, the Gibraltar of
the East, is lost.
There seems no way of stopping Japan's relentless
southern thrust, and the Japanese are eyeing their
(01:35):
next target, Timor.
On the morning of February 18, on a
flattened coral aerodrome called Penfoe in Dutch Timor,
Wing Commander Frank Hedlum walks towards a mess
hut filled with officers and airmen of Number
(01:56):
Two Squadron.
27-year-old Hedlum is the commanding officer
of Two Squadron, a Royal Australian Air Force
Hudson Squadron.
The men waiting for him in the mess
hut are mostly ground personnel, including mechanics, electricians,
engine fitters and armourers.
There are also officers and airmen skilled in
cipher, signals, intelligence and meteorology.
(02:18):
Hedlum is about to deliver some bad news
to his men.
Hours earlier, reconnaissance reported a massive Japanese task
force steaming from the north towards Timor across
the Banda Sea.
Invasion is inevitable.
Shortly after reading the reconnaissance report, Hedlum received
(02:38):
a signal from his superiors at RAF Station
Darwin issuing a partial evacuation of the Penfoe
aerodrome.
Since the fall of Singapore, holding Java has
become vital, and that means owning the skies
above the island.
But Java is dangerously short on fighters.
There are 10 American P-40 Kittyhawks languishing
at RAF Station Darwin.
(02:59):
To get them to Java, men are needed
at Penfoe to service and refuel them.
To Hedlum, it must be hard to believe
that 10 lousy P-40s will make the
slightest difference in the defence of Java.
But while Hedlum may have his orders, that
doesn't mean he's going to blithely select a
party from the 100-plus personnel stationed on
Penfoe to remain behind.
(03:21):
Not without asking them first.
Men, I've just received a signal ordering a
general evacuation of this base.
Only a skeleton crew is to remain behind
to keep up essential services.
I will need volunteers to staff the signals
section to maintain radio communication with Darwin, and
ground crew to service our aircraft staging through.
(03:42):
Now you can be sure that every effort
will be made to pick up and fly
back to Darwin the men who carry out
these duties.
So, who of you will remain behind?
Throughout the two months they've been operating out
of Penfoe, Hedlum's men have endured illness, endless
work and numerous Japanese raids.
Despite this, every man volunteers to stay.
(04:06):
Hedlum says he'll announce the make-up of
the rear party within the hour.
In the meantime, he is making available the
remaining supply of beer to any off-duty
personnel.
Except the grog.
We drink the grog before we leave.
Nothing will be left to the enemy.
Hedlum turns his mind to selecting those who
will stay behind and the man that will
lead them.
(04:27):
The group of airmen he selects will become
designated the RAF Rear Party on Timor.
Over six episodes, I will tell you about
those airmen, of how they came to be
stranded on Timor, of the men who risked
their lives to try and rescue them, and
those sent to hunt them down.
I found the story in official reports, journals,
(04:49):
diaries, letters, memoirs, interrogations and court transcripts from
war crimes tribunals held in the National Archives
of Australia, the Australian War Memorial, the National
Archives in Washington DC, and personal collections.
I also heard it from survivors.
In retelling this story, I've kept to the
facts.
Where actors have been used to voice parts
(05:09):
of real characters, they are speaking lines taken
from primary source material.
Dramatic sequences have been carefully recreated using multiple
sources which can be found in the show
notes.
What follows is a story of survival, courage,
leadership, mateship, and at certain points, cruelty and
violence.
But for me, this story is intensely personal,
(05:30):
because the officer wing commander Hedlum would ultimately
select to command the rear party was my
grandfather.
Men and women of Australia.
I'm Tom Trumbull, and this is Trapped.
(05:51):
The story of one of the greatest escapes
of the Pacific War.
Chapter One.
Invasion.
Hedlum is discussing the makeup of the rear
(06:11):
party with several officers.
In the case of five of his men,
flying officer Arthur Cole and four other airmen,
they'll remain behind by default.
Cole and his men are at present salvaging
parts from nine fighter aircraft that force landed
far to the east, near the border of
Portuguese Timor.
They aren't expected to be back until the
(06:33):
day of the expected invasion.
Hedlum decides that, including the salvage team, the
rear party will comprise 23 ground personnel and
wireless staff, and six officers.
The makeup of the party is as follows.
Hedlum is back in the mess, reading out
(06:55):
the names of the men who remain behind.
The number of airmen chosen is the bare
minimum to service the Kittyhawks, maintain communications with
Darwin, and make final preparations before evacuation.
The six officers of the party are Arthur
Cole, Peter Thompson, Jock Birchall, Bill Arthur and
(07:15):
Ken Greaves.
And the commanding officer is Brian Rofe.
There is a ripple of surprise at Brian's
selection as commander.
Brian is a meteorological officer attached to the
aerodrome rather than number two squadron.
Most of the airmen barely know him.
He nonetheless has command experience.
He was the most senior officer in the
first detachment sent to Timor five months earlier,
(07:37):
responsible for a small group of personnel.
He oversaw the building of a transmitting station,
a signal station, an ops hut, and barracks
in two months, all while sending weather reports
back to Darwin.
To complete the task, Brian was given a
labour force of over 1,000 Timorese men.
The job was finished on a tight schedule
and in the process, Brian picked up a
(07:59):
bit of Malay, the predominant language of Dutch
Timor.
He won high praise from the Timorese who
called him Tuan Besai, the big boss.
But nobody thought higher of Brian as an
officer than Hedlum himself.
Flight Lieutenant Brian Rofe was outstanding in general
duties.
He worked untiringly in looking after the safety
and welfare of both air and ground crews.
(08:22):
In the last month after the unit medical
officer had been sent back to Darwin with
malaria, Rofe did excellent work looking after the
sick.
He was at all times energetic and cheerful
and was an inspiration to other personnel.
For these reasons, he was selected to lead
the party.
Among the other five officers of the rear
party, Hedlum includes Pilot Officer Peter Thompson.
(08:44):
Twenty-three-year-old Peter is the only
trained pilot in the group, but a shortage
of Hudson bombers has meant that for four
weeks he's been stuck on Timor.
Beyond the close friendship he had forged with
Brian, everyone admires and respects Peter.
Hedlum also knew that if things went bad,
Brian would need a close and trusted confidant.
(09:06):
The rear party is comprised of men aged
between 19 and 41.
They come from all parts of Australia and
have different musterings or jobs in the RAF.
But a 22-year-old engine fitter, leading
aircraftman Bob Oliver, notices one thing they all
have in common.
They're all single.
No wives, no dependents.
(09:28):
There's a rumour that Bob and others had
heard that when a group was selected for
a dangerous mission where the prospect of survival
was far from assured, only single men were
chosen.
At 3.30 in the morning, the day
before the expected arrival of the Japanese invasion
fleet, Brian Rofe escorts Hedlum to one of
(09:50):
the five Lockheed Hudson's that will take the
commanding officer and his men back to Darwin.
The plan is simple.
The ten Kitty Hawks will stage through around
noon that day.
Later that afternoon, Hedlum will send back two
Hudson's from Darwin to pick up the rear
party 12 hours before the expected arrival of
the invasion fleet.
(10:11):
Good luck Rofe.
The two men shake hands and Hedlum boards
the plane.
Brian watches on as Hedlum's plane clears the
jungle at the end of the runway and
disappears into the night sky.
Here's what Brian wrote at the beginning of
his official report of what happened next.
(10:31):
I was left in charge of the RAF
party of six officers and 23 men after
wing commander Hedlum was ordered back to Darwin
on the night of the 18th of February.
It was arranged with him that Hudson's would
return the following night to evacuate the remaining
personnel.
Unfortunately, this could not be done.
(10:56):
Daybreak, February 18, the day before Hedlum departs
Timor with the bulk of his men.
Flying officer Arthur Cole is eating breakfast with
four Australian airmen in a hut in a
Dutch army outpost deep in the Timorese jungle.
Their salvage mission is nearly complete.
Soon they will head back to Penfoe.
(11:17):
Cole is a ruggedly built 35-year-old
equipment officer that Hedlum turns to for every
salvage operation.
He's admired within two squadron with an enthusiasm
generally reserved for pilots.
A Dutch soldier hands Cole a communique sent
from Hedlum, ordering Cole and his men back
to the aerodrome before the scheduled evacuation of
the rear party, which will happen in the
(11:38):
evening of February 19.
To make it in time, the sensible course
of action would be to dump the salvage
gear.
Cole has other ideas.
Change of plan, fellas.
Just got this message from Frank Hedlum.
We have to get back to the drone
ASAP.
I've spoken to these Dutch boys.
They say there are canoes on the beach.
We're going to take the gear to the
(11:59):
beach, load it into the canoe...
They trek through the jungle with the salvage
gear, which includes heavy machine guns and radio
parts.
Pick it up, boys.
Eventually they arrive at the coastal village where
their transport awaits.
Just think, this time tomorrow we'll all be
back in Darwin.
Timorese porters help carry their load to the
beach before they all pile the gear into
two large outrigger canoes.
(12:20):
They paddle five kilometres to their awaiting transport,
and when they get there, the transport has
vanished, commandeered by a Dutch unit.
Time is running short.
Cole and his salvage party appear to be
stranded.
It's one in the morning on February 20,
back at the Penfoe aerodrome.
(12:42):
Brian is briefing his men in the mess.
The ten P-40s never showed up and
neither did the two Hudsons.
Repeated attempts to hail Darwin all through the
previous day have failed.
There's only one explanation.
Darwin has been hit, and hit hard.
The evacuation is off, at least for now.
They're going to have to quit the aerodrome
(13:03):
and make for the jungle.
The airmen are seated on wooden benches.
None of those men have slept in two
days.
They've already been told to pack haversacks that
they dub piss-off kits, holding their essential
items.
Brian orders flying officer Jock Birchall to take
half the men in one of the two
GMC trucks they have at their disposal, and
(13:24):
head south for Paha River.
At 41 years of age, Birchall is the
old man of the group.
He's an intelligence officer born in Manchester who
served in the Royal Welsh Fusiliers during the
British occupation of Germany after the First World
War.
Brian will stick around with Peter and the
wireless team in the hope of hailing Darwin
and requesting a flying boat rescue at the
(13:45):
mouth of the Paha.
The wireless team had organised a portable transceiver,
but it's untested.
Brian figures his best chance of getting a
signal to Darwin is with Penfoe's powerful transmitter.
They would then rendezvous with Birchall's group for
a shoreline evacuation.
That's when they hear it.
An approaching engine.
(14:09):
The airmen step outside.
Eventually a truck's dimmed-out headlights is seen
careening up the road towards the mess.
When it stops, all the dust and debris
that had been trailing in its wake rushes
past the bonnet and into the eyes of
the stunned onlookers.
The car's occupants are jammed in alongside eight
Kitty Hawk machine guns, radio sets, and other
(14:29):
spare parts.
Where are those Hudson's that were supposed to
take us out of this hole?
There won't be any Hudson's, Arthur.
The mountain road between the Dutch Army jungle
outpost and the aerodrome generally took more than
ten hours.
Cole had done it in seven and mostly
in the dark.
Brian surely smiled.
(14:49):
His strongest man had returned.
They'd need Cole's stamina and fortitude for what
awaited them in the jungle.
As the first rays of sunshine break over
Timor, Brian receives a message in the SIG
station from an AIF soldier.
(15:10):
Enemy troops are landing in force on the
southern coast.
There's no exact fix on the number of
Japanese, but there are thousands of them, and
they're landing near the mouth of the Paha
River.
Birchell will be walking into a slaughter.
Brian and Peter run out of the SIG
station and look up.
High above, they see the oversized floats of
(15:31):
a small Japanese seaplane.
Incendiaries rain down on their position.
Japanese ships are shelling the drove.
Sitting out to sea from a point beyond
the view of the airmen, the light cruiser
Jintsu is leading two destroyers in the naval
bombardment of Timor.
The seaplane is coordinating the naval gunfire.
(15:54):
The shelling steps up in ferocity, the assault
reducing the wooden barracks to rubble and caving
in the wall of the aircraft hangar.
The naval barrage stays clear of the coral
strips.
It seems the Japanese intend to keep the
strips intact for their own use.
Australian soldiers have other ideas.
Coral explodes in fountain-like bursts along the
(16:17):
entire length of the runway.
Australian soldiers start setting off mines laid in
the strips weeks earlier.
They're under orders to destroy the runways the
very moment the Japanese attack.
The strips are reduced to craters and rubble
in minutes.
If the Hudson suddenly turned up, they'd have
nowhere to land.
Brian runs back inside the SIG station and
(16:38):
orders a signalman to advise Darwin that the
runway is destroyed and to suggest alternative rescue
points.
The invasion force is still a day's march
away.
Brian is going to wait out the storm,
giving Darwin every chance to signal them.
He changes his mind almost instantly.
The ground shakes, knocking Brian over.
(16:59):
Bright orange pillars of flame propel hundreds of
feet in the air, not far from the
transmitter.
No sooner has the explosion billowed into clouds
of black smoke than a fresh set of
fiery columns shoot skywards.
The soldiers are sending up the bomb dumps
near the transmitting station, half a kilometre away.
Brian decides it's time to leave.
Finding that we could not get anything out
(17:21):
of Darwin, and shells were coming uncomfortably close,
bomb dumps with 750-pound bombs going up
in batches of 30, and the blowing of
the drone continuing, I decided to hit the
trail as we were merely sitting on our
tails, just waiting.
Brian and the remaining 13 men cram into
the back of the truck.
(17:41):
Brian looks up.
The float plane has gone.
Something new is happening.
Brian shouts at his men in the back
of the truck to hold on.
Brian and Peter jump into the front cab
and the driver floors it.
They head out of Penfoe along the Dilley
Road, the single track that connects Timor's two
(18:01):
major towns, Copang in the west and Dilley
in Portuguese Timor in the east.
The army's fixed defences and coastal batteries are
arranged in close proximity to the road.
This stretch of road is soon to become
the most dangerous place in Timor.
As they drive, Brian and Peter lean forward,
scanning the skies through the windows.
(18:24):
The sound of anti-aircraft batteries tell the
men in the truck that they're coming.
The scream of diving zeros and machine gun
bursts ring loudly over the sound of the
truck's engine.
Then the zeros clear off and Brian sees
them.
A large formation of Betty bombers are coming
in fast from the north.
The ground quakes as the fixed defences are
(18:47):
carpet bombed.
Brian registers one thought as all hell breaks
loose.
Timor is lost.
The truck makes it through the bombing raid.
(19:08):
In the front of the cab and with
the threat momentarily passed, Peter Thompson's mind wanders
to the pain in his leg.
Never the type to complain or voice his
own ills, he's told no one about the
small wound he received days earlier on the
back of his leg that has now begun
to fester.
Beside him, Brian's mind turns to Jock Burchell.
(19:30):
They must try to catch up with him
and the other men before the Japanese invasion
force lands and Brian knows the only way
to get to the southern coast is along
a track that intersects with the dilly road
at a village called Babau and that's where
they're headed.
The driver has the accelerator down the whole
way.
Babau is little more than a few Timorese
(19:50):
huts.
Brian finds the village practically deserted.
No sign of Burchell and the others.
The driver stops the truck near a command
post where a small detachment of soldiers and
medical non-combatants wander around looking lost and
terrified.
Brian leaps out of the truck and starts
asking questions.
Hey you there, wait, I'm looking for a
(20:11):
group...
They tell him Burchell and the airmen were
in Babau when the southern invasion was reported.
The airmen decided to head farther east to
the Sparrow Force headquarters in the village of
Champlong.
Brian breathes a sigh of relief.
He thanks those men and wishes them good
luck.
He'd be the last allied serviceman to see
the detachment of men alive.
(20:34):
Brian races back to the truck and takes
stock of his men.
Corporal Roy Andrews is smoking a cigarette and
cracking jokes, as relaxed as if he were
enjoying a Sunday drive through the country.
He's known to have a good sense of
humour and for making light of seriously dangerous
situations.
His efforts to do so are always welcomed.
Told you I was turning this place into
an inferno and I can't get a flame
(20:54):
to light me last smoke.
He's talking with leading aircraftman Clyde Pappen, leading
aircraftman Len Burke and private Clem Clements.
Army signalman Clements had been on loan to
2 Squadron to ease the burden on the
aerodrome's personnel shortage for the last few weeks
and Brian had completely forgot about him.
Clem should be with the 2nd 40th Battalion,
(21:14):
preparing to fight with his unit, but there's
no way of knowing where they are.
Looking back from where they came, Brian can
hear the sound of explosions and the whine
of enemy fighters and machine gun bursts, but
the guns from the sea are silent.
Brian knows this means another bombing raid is
coming.
Listen up.
Before he jumps into the cab, he tells
(21:35):
his men that they will stop for fighters
but they won't stop for bombers.
Anyone spots a Zero...
A service truck has no hope of outrunning
a Zero fighter aircraft, but a bomber pilot
wouldn't waste his payload on a moving target.
If they get caught under a bombing run,
that's just bad luck.
Brian climbs into the cab and the truck
roars off.
As the adrenaline slowly seeps out of his
(21:56):
body, he feels a wave of exhaustion.
He calculates that he hasn't slept in 51
hours.
He turns to his friend, Peter, who's been
up with him for that whole time.
Peter looks terrible.
Worse than he should, notwithstanding the stress, fear
and sleeplessness.
Before Brian can ask after him, a curtain
(22:17):
of black smoke and flame envelops the world
not far behind them.
Brian looks up and sees another flight of
Betty bombers heading off.
Then someone starts banging on the roof of
the cab.
Look!
Zeros!
Stop the truck!
Fighters!
Fighters!
The driver slams on the brakes and everyone
hops out of the truck.
Take cover!
Machine gun fire rips up the ground around
(22:38):
them.
They've stopped in the middle of a field.
There's basically nowhere to hide.
They dive into ditches either side of the
road as a second Zero strafes the truck.
That's when Brian hears it.
A low, indistinct drone getting louder.
Brian looks back behind him.
(22:58):
A formation of 27 Japanese aircraft approaches.
They look like bombers, but they're coming in
far too low.
Brian and his men are routed to the
spot.
The aircraft are directly overhead.
The men on the ground steel themselves.
This is it.
But instead of bombs falling out of the
(23:18):
planes, the sky fills with parachute canopies.
We were about seven minutes out of Babau
when I stopped the truck and allowed the
mob to scatter.
Wave after wave of bombers flew over and
dropped paratroopers.
It looks like there are hundreds of them
and they're about 30 seconds from landing.
Everyone back in the truck!
Get up!
Move!
Move!
(23:39):
Move!
The driver is back in the truck in
a blink.
He turns the key in the ignition.
Get us out of here!
Come on!
The engine doesn't start.
Next time on Trapped.
With a native population of 700,000 ruled
(23:59):
prior to February 1942 by Dutch and Portuguese,
Timor is today ostensibly Japanese.
I shall represent the eastern people to make
all of our anger blown up in the
faces of the Anglo-Saxons.
You and your men are to hold the
Dili Road.
The Dili Road.
(24:20):
We're far away in Japanese.
30 men have never been thrown.
Well, I won't get hold of the Dili
Road.
We've never held the Dili Road against 500
paratroopers just like that.
Brigadier Veal, with respect, sir, we are 29
men with barely any small arms training.
You have your orders.
Now go out there and hold that bloody
road!
(24:46):
Trapped was written and produced by Tom Trumbull
with Sam Loy, James Milsom and Ryan Pemberton
for the Australian War Memorial.
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