JUNGLE TREK

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume 79, 8 January 1944, Page 5

JUNGLE TREK

N.Z. PILOT IN SOLOMONS FORCED TO BALL OUT NIGHT SPENT IN SWAMP (R.N.Z.A.F. Official News Service) New Georgia, Jan. 3. Forced to bale out over Japaneseheld territory, Bougainville, a New Zealand Warhawk pilot, Flight Sergeant D. K. Mulligan, waded through swamp and jungle, spent a sleepless night crouched at the base of a tree drenched *o the skin and next day struggled to the coast where Allied aircraft and a crash boat co-operated in bringing him to safety.. Apart from exhaustion he suffered no ill effects from the ordeal. As he came down the canopy Of the parachute caught in a tree and he found himself hanging by the shroud lines, 25 feet from the ground. He gained a foothold on the tree and released the parachute harness but was unable to drag in the panopy whish he intended to use as protection against mosquitoes. Vines from the trees hung in all directions and he slid down them and dropped the last few feet into swamp water waist deep. The base of the tree afforded some foothold and gave him time to collect hir ’’lf. Above him through the trees he saw four New Zealand aircraft circling. He waded 10 yards to a clearer patch, climbed the tangle of sloping vines and flashed a mirror to attract attention. Violent wing waving assured him he had been seen. Then he returned to the tree to check his equipment and plan the next move. 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 resolved to take a chance. After resting he slung the jungle pack on his back and the dinghy round his neck and set a 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 entangled with creeper and fern. SLIME UP TO HIS ARMPITS 1 Tiring rapidly after 300 yards of this, Mulligan was forced to discard the dinghy and he soon found himself unable to slay on the course as at each step ho slid into the slime up to his 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. Swamp growth thickened as he went on. He had to work entirely on compass and had to check his course about every 40 paces. Almost at dark he came to comparatively dry ground at the foot of a tree where he stopped for the night. Mosquitoes were thick and it rained heavily. As soon as first light broke. Mulligan packed his kit and set off on his original course. Swamp conditions improved slightly after about an hour and travelling became easier with less chopping of the undergrowth. Keeping on at a steady pace and resting often as his shoulders ached badly, he heard the noise of surf in the distance at about 9 a.m. Afraid of possible enemy positions he moved cautiously but his fears were unfounded and after crossing a sluggish river he came out on the beach. Twenty minutes later the lone New Zealander saw an Allied aircraft cruising slowly down the coast and caught it with a mirror signal. The plane waved its wings, gently circled and headed straight back. “I was rather excited, guessing this was the first step to being picked up.” said Mulligan. Time dragged until the aircraft returned with an escort of four fighters. A dinghy was dropped at the water’s edge with instructions to row out to sea as far as possible. “I wasted no time in”ating the dinghy, threw in my equipment and started out to sea. The excitement of the last few events had 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 miles out a Catalina flying-boat 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, picked up the airman and carried him to the safety of an Allied air base without further incident. Mulligan’s home is Treaty House, Waitangi, where his father, Mr A. W. Mulligan, supervises the Waitangi Estate.