| Subject: Age: A hymn to Dili, and the
diggers who died there
The Age April 27, 2000
A hymn to Dili, and the diggers who died there
By GARRIE HUTCHINSON
NO ONE tells you just how beautiful Dili is. Viewed from the
rainforest-clad mountains that frame the wide bay, with the port to the
west and the monumental statue of Jesus looking out to sea from a
promontory to the east, Dili seems still to be the small white-washed town
it was, basking in the tropical sun.
The mountain backdrop to Dili is as spectacular a setting as any in the
world, and the ridge-top villages and high-valley towns are a unique
amalgam of elements of New Guinea, the Philippines and Portugal. And the
road that twists through the hills north from Dili to the Falantil
cantonment of Aileu, to Maubisse, and Ainaro - all shattered towns - is
what a road made of the Kokoda Trail would be like.
Traditional houses cling to red-soil ridges in the swirling mist,
scrubby eucalypt forests vie with she-oaks, acacias and hoop pines. Goats
nibble at everything, little hairy guinea-pig type beasts scoot across the
road, men on little Timorese ponies carry sacks and new building materials
from truck stop to village, mothers wrap babies in bright swaddling
weaves, and dressed in turbans and luminous shirts, trudge gracefully as
the fog turns to rain, and to hot sun again.
The environment is similar to that in tropical Australia, as everyone
who has been to Timor has remarked. Geologically speaking, Timor is part
of Australia. And if you want to see what would have happened to Australia
if the 16th and 17th-century Portuguese explorers had followed up their
discoveries of Australia with colonies, look at Timor.
At 1am on February 20, 1942, the first Japanese shell hit Dili.
Shelling continued for 45 minutes, concentrated on the port and the old
airfield, defended by a section of the Australian 2/2nd Commandos. They
seem to have landed on the beach at Comoro, site of the present airport
where the Anzac Day dawn service was held on Tuesday.
The result of the shelling was less devastating on the small town of
1942 than was the militia and Indonesian army's sacking and pillaging of
Dili last year. But from up in the mountains, you can't see the
smoke-blackened public buildings, the piles of debris in the streets, the
gutted houses, block after silent block.
The situation on the streets of Dili has improved immeasurably since
last year. There are no shops, but the market flourishes. There is
electricity, and both UNTAET (United Nations Transitional Authority in
East Timor) and Falantil radio stations. Roadside petrol vendors fill your
tank through old stockings. A few cafes with brightly painted facades have
sprung up, and UNTAET has occupied many bright white buildings.
But the overwhelming feeling driving around Dili is still of emptiness.
My view of Dili is from Fatunaba, where a memorial pool and resting
place was originally paid for by the veterans of the 2/2nd and the
Australian Government, and opened in April 1969.
It was reopened in time for Anzac Day 2000 after renovations by
volunteers from the Australian Headquarters Force Logistic Support Group,
and 17 Construction Squadron.
The memorial was originally dedicated to the "Portuguese people
everywhere - from Minho to Timor ... in gratitude for the help you gave
our soldiers during the Second World War". Recognising changed
realities, the memorial and resting place is now dedicated to "All
the peoples of East Timor".
The site was chosen because it has long been a resting place for people
making the long walk from Dili through the mountains to villages near
Aileu. The main road makes a hairpin turn here, and a smaller road heads
to the village of Dare, about three kilometres further on.
On Anzac eve, 30 school children from Fatunaba school were busy
weeding, cleaning and sweeping the pool surrounds.
I met Salvador Rodriguez, a 19-year-old grandson of a villager who
helped Australians during the war. We had a long chat in fractured English
and long mutters of Portuguese, from which I gathered that he wanted to be
a teacher, wanted books and pens for their children, and that the people
of Fatunaba had prepared dances and other festivities for Anzac Day, but
that it had been explained that it was not that sort of a day. He was
disappointed not to be able to celebrate.
Salvador took me up the narrow road to Dare, where Father Ricardo runs
a seminary. A tiny, vibrant man in his 50s, Father Ricardo was tending the
garden around a beautiful Marian grotto, dressed in a white smock.
He spoke very good English and when told where we'd been, said:
"There is a lot of respect for Australians, in the war and
today."
He was very proud that the only memorial to the Timorese sacrifice for
the Australian cause was down the road. He said we should remember the
war, back then, and make the connections.
Father Ricardo, looking out over Dili far below, said that it was
emptied in 1999, many thousands of people fled the town, and came to these
mountains. Some are still around here, he said. They were pursued by the
Indonesian army, emphasising it - "by the Indonesian army". Two
were killed here - his gesture taking in the mountains.
So there can be bad armies?
"Yes, and good men," he said.
I went down the mountain, to Dili and Anzac Day. For all the
selflessness in recognising the Timorese contribution to the Australian
fight against the Japanese, I felt that we were selling ourselves short.
Whatever the political niceties of East and West Timor during the war,
the cruel fact of the matter is that there is no memorial to the dead of
the 2/40th who were sacrificed in West Timor (and whose survivors went to
the hell-on-Earth of the Burma-Thailand Railway) or the 40 dead of the
2/2nd and 2/4th commandos in East Timor, or to the 20 or so Z Special
Force operatives sent to Timor after 1943.
Beautiful Timor has been part of the Australian conscience for more
than 50 years. It is time the Australian part was honored with something
permanent, not the temporary ceremonial Anzac Day cenotaph that was seen
at dawn, then taken away after sunrise.
Garrie Hutchinson is researching a book on Australian soldiers who
fought in New Guinea, Timor and Borneo.
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