PILOT'S ORDEAL
ESCAPE FROM JUNGLE
A DIFFICULT STRUGGLE (R.N.Z.A.F. Official News Service.) NEW GEORGIA, Jan. 3. Forced to bale out over Japaneseheld territory in Bougainville, a NewZealand Warhawk pilot, Flight Sergeant D. K. Mulligan, waded through swamp and jungle and spent a sleepless night crouched at the base of a tree drenched to the skin. Next day he struggled to the coast, where Allied aircraft and a crash boat cooperated in bringing him to safety. Apart from exhaustion, he suffered no ill effects. He is a son of Mr. A. W. Mulligan, supervisor of Waitangi Estate, formerly well knowri in Wellington as a Ministerial secretary and later as head of the Centennial branch of the Department of Internal Affairs. As he came down his parachute caught in a tree and he found himself hanging 'by ' the shroud lines, 25 feet from the ground. He managed to get a foothold on the tree and released the parachute harness, but was unable to drag in the canopy, which he intended to ■ use as protection against mosquitoes. Vines from the tree hung.in all directions, and he slid down them, and dropped the last few feet into swamp water, waist deep. The base tree afforded some foothold and gave him time to collect himself. Above him, through the.trees, he saw four New Zealand aircraft circling. He waded to a clearer patch, climbed a tangle of vines, and flashed a mirror to attract attention. Violent wing-waving assured him that he had been seen, and he returned to the tree to check his equipment and plan the next move. SLIME TO THE ARMPITS. Realising that there was a Japanese road not far inland, he decided to make for the coast. What was on either side of him or ahead he did not know, but 'he resolved to take a chance. After resting, he slung his jungle pack,on his back and his dinghy round his neck, and set course by compass, hoping to be clear of the swamp before nightfall. The going was very hard. He had to wade almost up to his waist through swamp growth and a tangle creeper'fern, and he tired rapidly. After a hundred yards of this he was forced to discard the dinghy.. He soon found he was unable to stay on his course, as at each step he slid into the slime up to the armpits. He struggled to a firmer piece of ground to rest, and while there, by waving the dinghy sail, he attracted the attention of an Allied plane,'which dropped a white bundle. It landed only 60 yards away, but in the very direction he had been unable to maintain, and he could do nothing about it. The swamp growth thickened as he went on. He had to work entirely on the compass, checking his course about every.4o paces. Almost at dark he came to comparatively dry ground at the foot of a tree, where he stopped for the night. The mosquitoes were thick and it rained heavily. As soon as the first light broke, Mulligan packed his kit and set off on his original course. After about an hour travelling became easier, and at last he heard the noise of surf in the distance, and after crossing a sluggish river he came out on the beach. THE RESCUE. Twenty minutes later he saw an Allied aircraft cruising slowly down the coast and caught it with a mirror signal. ■ The plane waved its wings, circled, and headed straight back. "I was rather excited, guessing that this was the first step to being picked up," said Mulligan. Time dragged until the aircraft returned with an escort of four fighters, and dropped a dinghy at the water's edge, with instructions to row out to sea as far as possible. "I wasted no time in inflating the dinghy, threw in my equipment, and started out to sea," he said. "The excitement of the last few events put aside all feeling of exhaustion, and I was able to make good progress. I felt even more secure when the fighter escort strafed the beach to prevent possible enemy interference." When he .was about two mile's out a Catalina flyingboat circled, dropped smoke floats, and continued on its course. But help was now close; at hand, for. shortly afterwards a crash boat speeded to the scene and carried him to an Allied air base without further incident/
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Bibliographic details
Evening Post, Volume CXXXVII, Issue 5, 8 January 1944, Page 6
Word Count
733PILOT'S ORDEAL Evening Post, Volume CXXXVII, Issue 5, 8 January 1944, Page 6
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