Kokoda – Part 1

Background on death of Xmas Pig at Kiesenik

Xmas 1943 – a platoon from the 2/7th. Independent Company and one from the 2/5th. Independent Company were patrolling the area from Skindewai to Mubo where the nearest Japanese garrison were in occupation. In appreciation for a job of work done A.N.G.A.U. officials in Wau promised a pig for the Xmas meal at Skindewai. The pig was handed over to Kanga Force Headquarters in Wau for dispatch up top to Skindewai. The pig lead by a rope towed by native boys set out; At Chrystal Creek the pig broke away but was recovered some time later and taken to the native village of Kiesenik. There camp for the night was made.

In the morning the pig was discovered dead. Crestfallen the natives returned to Wau. Time was now too short to send another live pig to Skindewai, so a pig was killed and partly cooked, and despatched with all haste packed in a kerosene case. Relays of runners were to rush it to the boys in the jungle. Informed by wireless of events the boys who were living on exceedingly short rations anxiously speculated as to the probabilities of the pork or no pork for Xmas dinner. Dinner came and no pig. The cooks rose valiantly to the occasion and manfully disguised the perpetual bully beef into a species of rissole- as a treat a chocolate brew was serves. Tea-time came, and indeed, the natives with the kerosene case of cooked pig strung on a pole trotted into view.

Excitement was as high but no higher than the pig. Heat and time had turned our pig-it stank. Disconsolate we slank away. Determined to be festive we held a sing-song in the evening. I was delegated to report on the death of our original pig. The following is the monologue certain names are used in the form of puns. At least one of these is now no longer with us. Lt.Bullock killed in action less than a month later. References to tobacco are many. WE lived and dreamed of my Lady Nicotine. Cigarettes and tobacco were always short and lucky was the man who could trade with a native for a stick of the evil looking ‘bungtwist’.

By Alf Monsen

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