"GHOST FORCE"

Auckland Star, Volume LXXIV, Issue 11, 14 January 1943, Page 4

"GHOST FORCE"

A.I.F. IN CEYLON WELL-KEPT SECRET The story may now be told of one of the strangest chapters of A.I.F. history—the story of the Australian "ghost force" in Ceylon. Many months ago thousands of A.I.F. troops left the Middle East, and, as far as the outside world was concerned, disappeared for a time off the face of the map. A complete, balanced, fighting force of veteran troops, fully equipped, they took over a key sector of Ceylon. No reference to their presence there had been permitted (writes H. A. Standish, the Sydney Morning Herald's war correspondent). Sport had to be played under assumed team-names. The troops were forbidden to give in letters home any indication where they were. A lot of Australians passed through Colombo on their way home, but letters received by the men in Ceylon showed that for months there was grave concern among relatives who knew that they had left the Middle East, could not understand what had happened to them, and feared that they might be fighting desperately in the mountains of Java. It was hard to write letters in Ceylon when you could not talk of cocoanut trees or rubber plantations; when the roar of the monsoon-driven surf pounded in your ears day and night, but you could not even hint that you were on an island. It was hard to send little presents when every shop offered you ebony elephants and moonstones, and all the world knew where they came from. Puzzled Relatives The A.I.F. in Ceylon knew that it was doing an important job. The Japanese raid on Easter Sunday showed that the enemy knew just how tempting a prize Ceylon was. But our men were naturally disappointed at disembarking there, because when they left the Middle East they thought that they were heading for home to protect their own country against imminent Japanese attack. Of all the A.I.F. they ! had been away longest, and many of their comrades had already returned home. So the green beauty of Ceylon with its lush tropical vegetation meant little to these men, even by contrast with the harshness of the deserts of the Middle East. But though disappointed they had a job to do, and they settled down to work like niggers. Letters began to arrive from puzzled wives, parents, girlfriends. They said: "We know that you're back in Australia; we realise that you must be busy, but please at least send us a telegram, or, if you can, ring us up." Luckily there was plenty of work. On the docks, where labour had run away after the Easter raid, Australian soldiers unloaded ships, lightering ashore vital cargo, releasing vessels for yet another voyage with war supplies, clearing a harbour that made too tempting a mark for the enemy. When news of waterside and miners' strikes came from Australia, the comments of the A.I.F. in Ceylon were unprintable. Training began as soon as troops and equipment Were disembarked, because, though these men were veterans, they had learned their fighting in country very different from this tropical island. Few troops can ever have had to work harder. Under an ever-present and very real threat of invasion they had to hop straight into the job —take over at once the sector of the island for the defence of which they would be responsible, make reconnaissances, plan the defences, establish communications, collect local information about the effect of the coming monsoon, build roads, dugouts, earthworks, trenches, revetted with coconut palms a foot in diameter.

Some units had special duties of aerodrome defence, guarding metalled rumvays on land that had been hastily cleared of jungle or plantation, and flying-boat or seaplane bases established by the palmfringed coast. Others were stationed farther inland at strategic points. The weather was increasingly hot and humid. Then came the monsoon and the rains, heavy downpours every day. When the men were not dripping with rainwater they were almost as soaked with sweat. The health of the troops generally stood up very well to these conditions, but for those who became ill there were field ambulances and Australian General Hospitals. English officers have told me that this A.I.F. force was the most completely equipped on the island. Infantry and artillery, sappers, transport, workshops, all arrived with their full complement of fighting weapons and vehicles and maintenance gear. Dispersed under acres of dense rubber trees was a field workshop, in which Australian-made carriers were being fitted with special devices for jungle fighting. Commanded by a young lieutenantcolonel from Concord West, Sydney, this workshop was doing a wider range of maintenance and construction jobs than would normally be seen in a large city engineering shop. Intelligence reports of Japanese fighting methods were studied by officers and privates alike, and any ideas for new equipment to counter these methods were carefully considered, and in many cases adopted. I cannot yet describe the gadgets I saw being made under the, rubber trees, because the Japs don't know about them yet. Some day they will. Ceylon, minus most of its white women, except those with definite war jobs, was not an easy place for the entertainment of troops on leave, but man}' men received hospitality at planters' bungalows and clubs. Malayan Parcels The post office in Colombo was puzzled about what should be done with some hundredweights of Christmas cakes and puddings which had been sent by people in Australia to A.LP. men in Malaya, and Which could not be delivered there because of the Jap southward drive last December. They had turned up in Ceylon, long overdue, sack upon sack of them, carefully sealed, and sewn up in calico. It was obviously no use sending them back to Australia, so the postal authorities asked the Comforts Fund if it could use them for the A.I.F. in Ceylon. It could; and did. The Christmas fare opened up in May in perfect condition, and slices were passed out to the thousand troops who used the free tearoom daiiy. The senders of these parcels will be sad to know that they did not reach the men for whom they were intended, but they would have been consoled to see the appreciation with which the men in Ceylon received their gifts—intended for Christmas, 1941, consumed nearly six months later, but now for the first time openly talked about.