|
The enigma of how the 240 kilometres-long jungle track between Port Moresby and Kokoda became known as a trail rather than a track has long been of interest to those who are aware of the Australian vernacular at the time of the great event. Indeed, today the language has not changed in that respect, with the exception of the inclusion of fire trails into our idiom in the 1960s or '70s. Today, much of the preservation of our parks and bushlands has been based on North American techniques and knowledge. Unfortunately, those who are responsible for importing these practices seem to be very removed from the language of their land and people and also introduce terms that are not used by any Australian who relates to their land, countrymen, idiom or folk lore. While protecting one part of our heritage they are, incongruously, but officially, destroying another! The relatively recent introduction of the term fire trail by our authorities is an example of this. Ironically, the Parks and Conservation Service of our Australian Capital Territory, at least, has the land under its control liberally festooned with walking trails. Australian poets, under poetic licence, have, on occasions, understandably resorted to the use of trail, while very early Australian country music artists over-used the term until they adapted the genre to suit their native land. The word is not heard in the common language today, except for those involved with bushfire controls and our national parks, both having imported the word along with their studies in those areas. Neither group having the initiative nor appreciation of their own native language to use the idiom of either their current compatriots or forefathers. Of course there is the occasional entrepreneurial type who offers trail rides on their ranches. My formative years as a child during World War II were spent mostly at Kempsey, on the mid-north coast of NSW. The flood-prone town on the Macleay River was a refreshment stop-over for the many Australian and American troops heading north, and my father would take me to the railway station to see the 'Yanks' with their markedly different hats from those of the Australian troops with the slouch hat. I recall vividly the difference in the American Negro and our local Aborigines - the African-Americans being a very blue-black. My uncle, a captain in the 7th Division AIF, twice visited us at Kempsey on his way to New Guinea. On his second visit, following his return south from illness, he told my parents an interesting anecdote from the Kokoda campaign.  He said that he had heard that one brigade of Australian soldiers were so exhausted they were at the stage of lying down and giving up the battle, not caring what became of them. The officer in charge was considered an old man in that situation - he was 35 years-of-age. When the Japanese were threatening, this officer used a tirade of Australian colloquialisms to get his men on their feet, ready to face the enemy. He finally worked the totally exhausted men into a virtual frenzy, attacking the approaching enemy as madmen. My uncle believed that this was the engagement that changed the tide of battle, resulting in the eventual re-claiming of Kokoda. Whether this was the actual battle that turned the tables is debatable as the Kokoda campaign was a series of small battles, however it was what the men wanted to believe at the time. The only expressions used by that unknown officer that I can recall from my parents telling were come in spinner and two bob in the guts.Kokoda fell to the Japanese on 29 July 1942 and they pushed relentlessly toward Port Moresby, occupying Ioribaiwa on 17 September. The victories of the Japanese could not be maintained by their exhausted soldiers in such inhospitable country. With supply lines stretched beyond the limit and firm Australian opposition, Ioribaiwa was found abandoned on 28 September. The Japanese fought tenacious rear-guard actions at Templeton's Crossing and Eora Creek in particular, but Kokoda was re-occupied by the Australians by 2 November.  |