Nanga Gaat

Sarawak -Borneo 1965

By Jim Cook Royal Navy

I guess it all started in very early January 1965, I was serving at HMS President, which is the Royal Navy Commcen, Whitehall, situated about 60 metres below Trafalgar Square in London. I had only recently been drafted there after finishing a stint of Fishery Protection in Iceland on HMS Keppel.

From memory it was the first week of January and I was on watch in the commcen when the Duty Officer called me into his office and handed me a draft chit. It was headed 'Pier Head Jump' and outlined that I was drafted as the Leading Radio Operator, in charge of the RN 'First Signal Assault Team, Borneo, and was to fly to HMS Terror in Singapore the following week. As I had only recently become engaged to my, now wife, who was a leading WREN, also stationed at Whitehall, this came as quite a shock.

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Nevertheless, I arrived at HMS Terror on 15 January and after a whirlwind tour of kitting-up and weapon training etc, I was shunted onto an aircraft that had obviously been used for parachute drops and hadn't had the seats replaced, and suffered a bone shaking flight to Sibu in Sarawak. Upon arrival I was settled in at one of the accommodation bungalows situated along the side of the airport and then taken to 'Ruma Lapan', or Bungalow number 6, 'the bar', where I met up with members of the 845 NACS detachment and the remainder of the signal team, comprising two radio operators and another LRO, who I had served with in Malta several years prior.

For administration purposes we were attached to the 845 NACS from HMS Bulwark, and our objective was to maintain a communications link between Sibu and the 845 NACS forward detachment at Nanga Gaat plus helicopters in transit, using antique Army HF DSB C10, or C11 trans-receivers. In addition we manned a Main Signal Office in the Sibu Airport tower and opened up a link with HMS Bulwark, whenever she made routine visits off the coast.

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Nanga Gaat is located approximately 120k deep in the Sarawak jungle [Ulu] and situated on the fork of the Baleh and Balang rivers, the latter running directly to the Indonesian border some 15k away. Access was normally by helicopter, but logistical supplies, which included our beer, was sent by small native river craft along the Rajang River from Sibu to Kapit and then picked up by helicopter, or sent up the Baleh River to Nanga Gaat by boat.

On my first stint at the Gaat I was met by my outgoing opposite number, who showed me the ropes that day and then handed over his SLR, before flying back to Sibu the following day. We were instructed to carry our weapons with us at all times and to attend firing practice every evening at dusk when we manned the perimeter trenches at 'Stand To'

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There were important reasons for 'Stand To' The first being, that by firing our weapons daily we were compelled to clean them, which due to the humidity etc, was an absolute necessity, should we at any stage come under attack by Indonesian patrols, either down the Balang River, or by air, which was unlikely, due to the Indonesian's woeful lack of aircraft serviceability. The second reason was to fire at targets across the river in an old rubber plantation, and more importantly, at any driftwood floating down river from the direction of Indonesia, which could be used as cover for enemy infiltrators.

There was of course always the possibility of a direct enemy attack by river, or a land attack by enemy infiltrators landing further up river. Members of the Royal Malay Regiment provided protection in this regard. During the day we usually wore jungle green shorts, hats and flip-flops or sandals. In the evening the rig was relaxed to sarongs and flip-flops. Our accommodation consisted of native huts, or Atap bashas, on short stilts, with camp beds on wooden frames inside. All the beds had mozzie nets strung from the roof, and the height of comfort, was to put a pet praying mantis inside your mozzie net, which you left down at all times, to ensure a trouble free sleep.

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The posts of the wooden bed frames stood in tin cans filled with oily water to keep out other nasties. There were various animals wandering around the base; a large buffalo that we became quite attached to, numerous dogs and a pet monkey named 'Mimit [little] Monk'. The Sick Bay was also located in a basha. Our doc', a naval Sick Berth Attendant, was kept very busy dispensing aspirins and suchlike to the Iban women. They would form a queue outside the sickbay every morning. There was an Iban village close by and several of the villagers were employed at the base. Doc also concocted a marvellous pink coloured hangover cure that proved popular with us. There was the 'Line Shack', which proudly displayed a sign outside advising 'London 8,917 miles. This was the nerve centre of the base where all aircraft maintenance and air operations were organised.

Then of course there was the bar, aptly known as the 'Anchor Inn.' This was the focal point in our lives and there are many interesting tales that can be told about this famous bar. Well, famous to us anyway. The bar was an Atap Basha divided into two sections. One section was a small wardroom for the pilots and the other section for the rest of us. However, there were often nights of 'open house' on either side. The Inn was on stilts with our section comprising a bar, tables, chairs and a dartboard. One of the rules of the bar was that if your dart bounced out of the dartboard and fell through the bamboo slats of the floor, then you had to crawl under the basha and retrieve your dart.

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Of course whilst you were under the floor buckets of water, [and sometimes other liquids,] was poured over you. Troops and visitors were especially encouraged to play darts! We were never fully paid whilst on detachment. We nominated a small amount to cover necessities, such as beer and toiletries and the remainder was credited awaiting our return to wherever.

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When taking troops and their equipment over the border, the helicopters loaded-up on top of a small hill in the Gaat. When they were fully loaded they took off, sometimes dropping several metres before they were able to claw their way into the air. Troops returning from border patrols were required to stay overnight at the Gaat before returning to Sibu. This led to some wild nights in the Anchor Inn as they let their hair down. It was said that the Ghurkas always brought two things back with them from a patrol their knives and navy rum, saving the latter for a night in the Anchor Inn.

There was a system of fines at the Gaat, for such offences as pilots flying too low or, never let it be said, running low on fuel etc, to not firing/cleaning your rifle, dropping your darts through the floor, despite the drenchings, or simply because it was your birthday etc. The fine money was put to excellent use in the following manner. On the bar an empty spirit bottle was placed in the centre of a circular drinks tray and a candle placed in the neck of the bottle. The candle was never allowed to go out without being relit immediately and when it had run down it was replaced with another candle. It was in the days when candles actually dripped wax. The wax flowed down the sides of the bottle until it completely surrounded the bottle and reached the top of the neck.

When this happened another bottle was placed on top of the first bottle and the process continued. All the small change taken for minor fines was pressed into the wax whilst it was wet and all paper money extracted from the pilots was stuffed into the empty bottles. It was practice to ensure that each bottle was full of paper money before another bottle was placed on top. This continued until 845 NACS pulled out in June '65, then the candle wax was melted down and all the monies extracted. The bottles reached five or six high and the width at the base was about 12 inches. The money, which was between one or two thousand Malay dollars, a lot of money in those days, was flown out to Kapit, where it was donated for the use of future medical treatment for young Iban children.

Our main entertainment, apart from the Anchor Inn, was film nights. Being front line troops we were entitled to all the latest movies from the UK and we usually managed a film two or three nights a week. We had several visitors. Prince Phillip paid us a flying visit and of course we had to have a comedian, namely good old Frankie Howerd.

Although it was very busy at the Gaat, there was usually some time for other forms of entertainment. One was water skiing behind a longboat powered by an outboard, and another was butterfly collecting. Several keen collectors were taken into the ulu by the Ibans, where they were shown where to find and catch some very large and apparently, rare butterflies, one namely the Raja Brooke.

Most of us had learned to speak the Iban dialect, some better than others of course. I recall that two pilots in particular took the trouble to learn the language fluently, so they could communicate more effectively when they flew out on medivacs to villages in the Ulu where the locals spoke little, if any English. The Iban language comprised of about 250 words, but running the words together into an understandable sentence was the problem. I had an Iban dictionary, very small, but subsequently lost it. On a visit to Singapore ten years ago I tried to purchase a new one but no one seemed to have even heard of the Iban dialect.

One of the highlights of our social life was an invite to the local Iban Long House. The Ibans were very friendly people, despite the fact that they were notorious headhunters and their trophies were on full display at the long houses. I recall one particular occasion when we were invited to a long house for a wedding. All the men sat down one side of the long house with the women on the other side. Highly decorated mats were placed down the middle and covered in local food and delicacies. Throughout the evening we were plied with food and Tuak, which is the local rice wine, and very strong.

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After the wedding ceremony the bride and groom and the women retired, leaving those hardy souls who were still conscious, to carry on drinking with the tribal elders. This was where things got tricky because it was not the done thing to out drink the elders or they would lose face. So, if we hadn't genuinely collapsed by dawn, we had to pretend that we had, for the sake of diplomatic relations. [And probably our heads]

The radio shack was situated on the top of the highest hill, well dug in and close to the Malay Gun Post. To reach the shack meant climbing up about 100 log steps constructed by the Iban helpers employed at the base. There were regular radio schedules to be met sometimes three or four times per day, so climbing the steps kept us fit. Throughout the camp there were wooden walkways that you kept to, or else you risked being bitten by snakes or scorpions, or bogged down when it rained, which was often. There were two kinds of scorpions, blue ones that if they stung you would knock you about but not kill you.

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The other was the black scorpion, which could kill you. Scorpions had a habit of sun baking on the wooden walkways and the Ibans showed us that the best way of killing them was to approach them from the rear and step on them so that their sting was projected forward. They were able to do this in bare feet, unlike us trained killers. However, we persevered and soon became pretty good at killing scorpions, especially when they were found on steps leading up to the radio shack.

I spent a fair bit of time in the radio shack encoding/decoding and sending/receiving messages, also monitoring patrol frequencies for recalls or resups etc, so I ate most of my meals there. The meals were army compo rations, which we cooked on a field mini burner fuelled by solid heat blocks. My favourite compo pack was one containing Irish stew, but it was very popular and hard to get hold of. Another pastime while in the shack was listening in on the US Viet Nam frequencies. Sometimes this was very interesting and descriptive of the action taking place there.

Initially, 845 NACS had four Wessex mark 1's and a Whirlwind 7, based at the Gaat, with six pilots and some twenty ground crew. In June 65 when 845 NACS was relieved by 848 NACS, from HMS Albion, the Wessex mark 1 was replaced with Wessex mark 5. This was a blessing as the Mark 1 had a single engine and the Mark 5 a double engine. 848 NACS also replaced the 'old' Line Shed with a more modern prefabricated one and dug out a bigger and better radio shack on the top of the hill. [The Gaat was never quite the same after that.] They also replaced the ancient Army radio gear with Navy Collings 618T SSB Tran receivers.

Due to the mountainous terrain and the fact that mist and fog made night flying a very hazardous affair, the standard flying programme was very much a daytime affair. The main task of the detachment was to transport troops over the Indonesian border and then bring them back on completion of their patrol. Supply drops were also provided to the troops on patrol. The troops involved during my time were mainly 2 Para and the Ghurkhas. In addition flying hours were increased substantially by numerous medivac flights to outlying villages, usually for difficult childbirths and serious accidents etc. The pilots really showed their skill during these medivacs, often flying in atrocious weather conditions night or day.

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I flew as a passenger on several missions over the border, on the premise of testing communications. On one trip, while my oppo the air crewman suffered a nervous breakdown in the rear, the pilot actually allowed me to handle the controls of the Wessex, as he gradually reduced the level of automatic pilot. I think that's what it was anyway. I recall that upon reaching the last stage, the slightest touch on the controls had a very positive effect on the helicopter, and my oppo in the rear! [We had a co-pilot by the way]

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We lost numerous helicopters, troops and aircrew during the detachments, mainly Wessex mark 1's, which, fitted with only one engine, had to perform auto rotation landing if they suffered engine failure. With the Ulu being extremely dense and with trees up to 300 feet high, it was one of the air crewman's duties to maintain a constant look- out to the rear of the helicopter, identifying emergency landing spots for the pilot to head for in case of engine failure.

One helicopter, Papa I believe, suffered engine failure and auto rotated into the Ulu about 300 feet from the river. It was carrying stores, including beer from Kapit, and the story goes that by the time a rescue party had hacked their way in from the river, most of the beer had been consumed by the largely unharmed crew members. Another cab auto rotated into the river but unfortunately hit the only submerged rock in the area and some if not all of the crew were killed.

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There was of course the unfortunate incident of the mid air collision over the Gaat. I was at Sibu at the time but my memory of the Sitrep rindicated that the collision occurred when one helicopter ferrying troops to or from the border, collided with another helicopter over the Gaat. Both cabs fell into the river and one of the few survivors was an air crewman who lost several of his fingers in the rotors when he was thrown or leapt from his helicopter.

My fiancée who was stationed in HMS Northwood in London at the time heard of the news very quickly. The Lt Cdr Liaison Officer at Northwood, knowing that I was in Borneo, told her of the accident and also that his son was one of the army Para's who had been killed in the accident. We also lost our only Hiller, which developed a fault and made an emergency landing. The senior pilot fixed the fault, but the cab crashed shortly after take off and sadly the pilot was killed.

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All things come to an end of course and in September 65, the Army took over from 848 NACS, much to the disappointment of the locals both in Sibu and Nanga Gaat. We left behind, erected on the hill in Nanga Gaat overlooking the spot where the mid air collision occurred, a memorial dedicated to all those who lost their lives during the detachments of 1965.

We then returned to Sibu and embarked en-masse by helicopters to HMS Albion chucking out toilet rolls on our approach. Some of the team returned to the UK on the Albion but I was re-deployed to the Fleet Pool at HMS Terror where I served on the buoy layer, HMS Barfoil, for three months, jollying around Malaya, being occasionally attacked/harassed by Indonesian pirates until the MOD in all their kindness sent me back to the Commcen Whitehall for survivors leave, in time for Christmas.

41 years on- Jim Cook-
Australia - May 2006

(No apologies are made for any factual errors, omissions, or lapses of memory after 41 years)

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