Supplies over the Shore: Logistics and Australian Littoral Operations

Introduction

Writing in The Lifeblood of War: Logistics in Armed Conflict, distinguished Royal Marine Major General Julian Thompson (retd), noted that for all its importance logistics usually takes a ‘back seat to the more glamorous tactics and strategy’.[1] He was not claiming that militaries do not understand logistics. Rather, he was saying that they often show a reluctance to acknowledge its importance—or devote enough time to its detailed study—vis-à-vis operational matters. As someone with active command experience during the Falklands War, and an appreciation and understanding of military history and the peculiarities of amphibious warfare, Thompson’s message is unambiguous: history offers many insights into the good and bad of military logistics and their relationships with the successes and failures of battles, campaigns and wars. Those wanting to master the profession of arms should not put such studies at the bottom of the to-read pile.

Beyond the obvious benefits of being logistically lingual, why should the non-logisticians of the Australian Defence Force (ADF) bolster their logistic knowledge right now? The answer is that littoral operations, and the Australian Army’s ability to project and sustain force so as to deter an adversary through denial, feature prominently in the 2023 Defence Strategic Review, National Defence. So, too, does the need for a more robust and fit-for-purpose logistic system.[2] This recasting of the Army’s role as a littoral force—to ‘be transformed and optimised for littoral manoeuvre operations’[3]—and the structural, cultural and equipment changes that undoubtedly accompany it, will bring many challenges for the Army and Defence. Not least of these are questions of littoral logistics. Such issues recently occupied the focus of key AUKUS partners. In May 2023, for instance, Commandant of the United States Marine Corps General David H Berger told audiences at the Brookings Institution that his ‘focus is logistics, logistics, logistics’.[4]

After establishing and securing a point of entry, one of the principal challenges littoral and amphibious operations face is the problem of logistics over the shore.[5] Dayton McCarthy explained these complexities further: 

If ‘amateurs talk tactics, and experts talk logistics’ then amphibious operations require a sage-like understanding of what to bring on-board initially, how to stow and cross-load a multitude of stores, weapons platforms and personnel and then how to supply troops ashore while operating in a hostile environment.[6]

This challenge is not a new phenomenon, as the following selected case studies from Australia’s experiences of amphibious operations in the First and Second World Wars illustrate.[7] 

First World War 

Much of what enables militaries to fight goes unseen. Behind strategic plans, operational preparations and tactical actions lies a complex administrative system incorporating supply, transport, reinforcements, training, manufacturing and infrastructure. In this sense, railways, roads, runways, flight paths, and sea lines of communication are the arteries of war. Martin van Creveld, whose nearly half-centenarian Supplying War: Logistics from Wallenstein to Patton should still be on every professional military education reading list, estimates that all of this—the logistics of war—constitutes some 90 per cent of military effort.[8] Whether in the littoral or halfway across a continent, placing soldiers at the right place at the right time, and with sufficient equipment to achieve the objective, is always a difficult proposition. This is especially true in contested conditions. 

Every day throughout the First World War a mountain of equipment, people, animals, food, ammunition and weapons had to be moved forward—and sometimes rearwards in times of retreat—in order to keep the millions of personnel of the opposing armies fed and functioning. As the war dragged on, and the number of combatants increased, the logistic demands grew exponentially. In August 1914, for example, when the British Expeditionary Force arrived in France, it numbered 120,000 men and 53,000 horses. By war’s end in November 1918 it had grown to 3 million men (including the Australian Corps of Lieutenant General Sir John Monash) and 500,000 horses. This expansion was met with a corresponding increase in the tonnage required to feed them: from 1.6 million kilograms of meat, 2 million kilograms of bread and 2.6 million kilograms of forage per month in 1914, to 30.6 million kilograms of meat, 40.8 million kilograms of bread and 14.6 million kilograms of forage per month in 1918. Most of this vast tonnage came from Britain, and responsibility for moving it fell to the Army Service Corps, which at its peak numbered more than 325,000 men.[9]

These vast quantities aside, the logistic arrangements on the Western Front—with its pre-existing road and rail networks, its sympathetic civilian population, and a short sea passage between the United Kingdom and France—was relatively simple when compared with the challenges of supplying the British Empire’s far-flung theatres of war.[10] Two of those theatres, German New Guinea and Gallipoli, were the scene of Australia’s only amphibious operations of the First World War. Very different in environment, complexity and outcome, each operation had its own unique logistic hurdles. 

German New Guinea (1914)

War had only just been declared against Germany when, on 6 August 1914, Britain asked Australia to seize and destroy German wireless stations in the South-West Pacific.[11] The Australian Government responded favourably (as did New Zealand, which received a similar request to occupy German Samoa) and in less than two weeks it raised, mobilised and equipped a joint expeditionary force of 1,500 men for that purpose.[12] Known as the Australian Naval and Military Expeditionary Force (AN&MEF), it was commanded by Colonel William Holmes, a citizen-officer who had served in the Boer War and would later command a brigade at Gallipoli and die of wounds suffered at Messines while commanding the 4th Division Australian Imperial Force.[13] Before the month was out, HMS Hampshire and an expeditionary force from New Zealand had destroyed the wireless stations at Yap and Samoa, respectively.[14] A landing party from HMAS Melbourne did the same at Nauru on 9 September.[15] Meanwhile, having conducted amphibious landing rehearsals and tropic acclimatisation off Townsville at Palm Island, on 2 September the AN&MEF set sail for Port Moresby, the staging base for its attack on German New Guinea.[16]

Nine days later, on 11 September 1914, nearly the entire fighting strength of the Royal Australian Navy (RAN), led by the commander of the Australian Fleet, Rear Admiral Sir George Patey, assembled off the coast of New Britain carrying Holmes and the AN&MEF.[17] Australia’s first amphibious landing was unopposed: 25 RAN Reservists rowed ashore from HMAS Sydney at Herbertshöhe at 6 am, but found neither an enemy force nor a wireless station. The next landing party, of a similar size, set foot on a jetty east of the Kabakaul pier an hour later. A ‘nervous Chinese storekeeper’ soon told them that the enemy—German reservists and Melanesian police—had retreated up a jungle road towards the Bita Paka wireless station. Reinforced from the sea, the Australians pursued them. With scouts out front, the party advanced on either side of the road.[18] Robert Stevenson’s account, Australia’s First Campaign: The Capture of German New Guinea, 1914 takes us into the jungle and the nervous tension before battle:

Manoeuvring through the shadows, a small column of tawny-clothed men shouldered their way through the verdant growth, like ships ploughing through the sea. The column wove in and out seeking the path of least resistance; when the closely matted scrub became too thick, the men turned back towards the road that skirted along the verge until a new path could be found.[19]

Spotting the enemy lying in wait, Petty Officer George Palmer fired, wounding and taking prisoner German Sergeant Major Maurice Mauderer.[20] After broken resistance from German reservists and locally trained police, during which Australia suffered its first casualties of the First World War, the AN&MEF continued their advance, destroyed the wireless station, and retraced their steps to the coast where they embarked for Herbertshöhe.[21] The day, and Australia’s first amphibious operation, was a success. The wireless station was located and Australian casualties had been slight: six killed, four wounded. The German and native defenders, numbering fewer than 300, suffered 31 killed and 11 wounded, and 75 were taken prisoner.[22]

Figure 1.Troops of the AN&MEF during the landing at Herbertshöhe, 1914.State Library of New South Wales, PXA 2165.(Source: Wikipedia Commons)

‘As a result of that single action’, Stevenson explained, ‘Australia achieved a long-cherished goal of ridding the islands to its near north of a hostile power’.[23] Rabaul, the capital of German New Guinea, was occupied on 12 September 1914 and surrender terms were signed with the German acting governor five days later. A military administration, with Holmes in charge, began on 20 September. Over the next three months, the Australians occupied the remaining German islands, leaving garrisons behind where appropriate.[24] Colonel Samuel Pethebridge, a former Secretary of the Department of Defence, replaced Holmes in January 1915. A newly raised expeditionary force, Tropical Force, replaced Holmes’s men. The successful combined and joint campaign removed the German wireless chain used by Vice Admiral Maximilian von Spee’s German East Asiatic Squadron and ‘secured Australia’s trade routes in the Pacific’.[25] It also removed ‘a real threat to Australia and its economy’.[26] The removal of this threat, as well as the security provided by British and Japanese sea supremacy, meant that Australia and New Zealand were able to transport reinforcements to Europe and the Middle East, and keep sea trade flowing, for the remainder of the war.[27]

Logistic issues defined the expedition from its outset. Indeed, logistics ‘probably predetermined the successful outcome of the campaign’.[28] A prerequisite of any military operation is to define its requirements, especially in terms of food and supplies, and make appropriate provisions for their transport and movement.[29] One of the reasons why the AN&MEF was able to mobilise so rapidly was that its rifles and uniforms came from existing stocks and that the RAN, in its own mobilisation, was able to call upon pre-positioned stores. In spite of this logistic success, the AN&MEF’s departure from Sydney was delayed due to problems loading supplies. When the force did sail, carrying 60 days’ provisions, it did so without mess tins or signalling equipment. Holmes knew that until commercial trade resumed, these supplies would have to feed his troops and the local population. To reduce some of the pressure, on 1 September, while the troops were training at Palm Island, HMAS Berrima was loaded with nearly 32,000 kilograms of frozen mutton.[30] Upon reaching Port Moresby, where his force was to concentrate before its amphibious operation, Holmes was confronted with a logistic burden. There waiting for him was SS Kanowna, carrying 500 men from the Kennedy Regiment who had volunteered to join the AN&MEF. But their ship had run out of stores. Holmes could not take such a logistic risk; nor did he think these citizen-soldiers were sufficiently equipped or trained for the task. He therefore removed them from the expedition.[31]

The benign nature of the campaign meant that supplying the force during the occupation was a relatively simple task. Prior to lodgement, everything was afloat in Patey’s warships or the merchant vessels chartered by the Australian Government and converted into colliers, oil tankers, a supply ship and a hospital ship.[32] Post-lodgement, and without resistance, supplies were taken ashore using existing piers and jetties. Stores were disembarked with ease, where and when required. The overriding challenge, though, was the length of the lines of communication and the reality that everything initially had to be acquired and delivered from Australia. With nearly 2,000 nautical miles between Rabaul and Sydney, where most supplies came from, there was no such thing as an urgent request. Consequently, once established ashore the force became as self-sufficient as possible, sinking wells, building a water condensing plant, treating water tanks with kerosene to prevent mosquitos from laying their eggs (thereby reducing the chance of malaria), and boiling water before drinking.[33]

Realising the importance of having sufficient and ongoing provisions for his force and the local population, Holmes prioritised establishing trading routes between Australia and the administered territories of German New Guinea. Sometimes this led to inflated cargo prices or corruption, but it also ensured regular deliveries of food, tobacco, and coal, except when the weather intervened to sever supply lines.[34] According to the official historian of the Australian occupation, himself a key member of the administration:

The regular supply of provisions from Australia was a constantly-recurring problem during the military occupation, and when, as sometimes happened through strikes or other causes, communication by sea was entirely interrupted for a considerable period, strange shifts had to be devised.[35]

Logistic considerations were also a factor when considering what to do after the AN&MEF’s initial successes. Holmes’s force had neither the coal nor the shipping to expand its footprint north of the equator (as Britain had requested). Pethebridge’s Tropical Force was better provisioned, and steamed from Australia with two months’ provisions of coal, water, and food (including more than 800 frozen sheep carcasses, 30 tons of beef, and 2,500 kilograms of butter). Despite this, and soon after he replaced Holmes, Pethebridge was faced with a supply shortage.[36] Fortunately, such circumstances were not the norm, and the administration’s effective planning typically averted the occurrence of similar situations. 

As they were almost entirely dependent on seaborne resupply, command of the sea ensured that both the AN&MEF and Tropical Force had secure lines of communication. It also meant that sustainment was a comparatively easy task. Ammunition expenditure was never significant, and there were no challenges or concerns regarding its resupply. Similarly, medical support was ‘sound’ and casualty evacuation was never burdensome.[37] As Ross Mallett wrote: ‘That a force could be enlisted, equipped and shipped in little over a week must be considered extraordinary’.[38] It stands as an impressive feat of logistics considering the expeditionary force consisted of a relatively young navy, established just over a decade earlier, and a fledgling army. By prewar estimations, mobilisation was both rapid and remarkable.[39] The expedition to German New Guinea not only marked Australia’s inaugural amphibious operation but also represented the first occasion that Australia assumed full responsibility for its own logistics. This was in contrast to the Gallipoli campaign, where—like much else since—Australia relied heavily on its major partner (Britain) for the majority of its logistical needs.

Gallipoli (1915)

Described by the British War Office’s chief logistician, Major General Sir John Cowans, as ‘abnormal and peculiar’, the lines of communication from Australia, France, New Zealand, and the United Kingdom to the allied forces at Gallipoli in 1915, were some of the most complex in the history of warfare.[40] General Sir Ian Hamilton, commanding the multinational Mediterranean Expeditionary Force (MEF), described the logistic system that fed, watered, and sustained his force as the ‘most difficult … since the day of Xerxes’.[41] The campaign being an amphibious operation on foreign shores, everything required for fighting and living at Gallipoli was brought in across the sea. It was a long, dangerous route, and an administrative nightmare (and substantially more burdensome than the 160 kilometres between the Ottoman capital, Constantinople, and the Gallipoli peninsula). Yet, despite its inadequacies and imperfections, this system nonetheless enabled the projection of a substantial force, numbering 75,000 men at its smallest, to a theatre of war some 3,500 nautical miles from its home base in England (the French were responsible for their own logistics).[42]

The logistic cycle, or what we might today call the supply chain, actually began in the theatre. Employing a ‘pull’ system, units on the Gallipoli peninsula submitted daily requests outlining their future needs. These requests were filtered through General Headquarters (GHQ), which compiled and forwarded them to London. There, officers at the War Office then worked to acquire and dispatch the required items in a timely fashion. The mass of paperwork that this system produced made the system inefficient and cumbersome, and was the main reason the British armies on the Western Front replaced the pull with a ‘push’ system. Not having a similar push system at Gallipoli meant that the War Office was unable to anticipate what would be required. Arrangements could not be made until a request was received. On more than one occasion, the ensuing delays meant that by the time an item arrived in the theatre it was no longer required.[43]

Once the items had been acquired in the United Kingdom, the War Office organised for their delivery, by trucks and trains, to British portside towns, where responsibility was handed over to the Royal Navy for their transport to the MEF’s main logistic base at Alexandria, Egypt. Where practical, items were loaded in bulk, with one type of item in one or as few ships as possible. Often, though, that was not possible owing to the urgency with which supplies were required. With an absence of deep-water harbours or functioning ports closer to the Gallipoli peninsula, it was realised that all stores and supplies would have to be transhipped into smaller vessels—which could lie off the Gallipoli peninsula—upon arriving in Alexandria. Packing them so that their cargo could be offloaded directly onto the shore was not an option. All of this resulted in more work, more administration and more delay.

Upon leaving the United Kingdom, the ships sailed across the Bay of Biscay and along the coast of Spain until they reached Gibraltar. After a brief stopover they continued to Malta, and then on to Alexandria. Here, the ships were emptied and their cargoes repacked from bulk into ration sizes and reloaded. The ships then set off for Lemnos island, a smaller intermediate logistic base closer to Gallipoli (still 70 nautical miles from Anzac Cove), where their cargoes were again transferred into smaller craft. It was here, in Mudros harbour, that the greatest delay and confusion was experienced. The port facilities were basically non-existent: there were no deep-water piers; nor were there storage facilities on land. Instead, the MEF relied upon converted store ships, which they used as ‘floating depots’.[44] But this method of ordnance storage had its own problems. Most ships arrived at Mudros without a manifest of goods, which made it difficult to locate specific items or prioritise which ships should be unloaded first. This both delayed the dispatch of essential items and prevented ships from duties elsewhere. The lack of port facilities was not the only problem. Delays were further compounded by insufficient labour to load and unload cargoes, and a lack of small craft for transhipping purposes.[45]

When ready, these smaller craft went either to another intermediate base on Imbros island, or directly to the advanced bases on the Gallipoli peninsula. This final voyage usually took place at night to offer some protection from the German submarines lurking beneath the Aegean Sea, and Turkish artillery observers ready to fire on boats as they approached the beaches. At such distances, and subject to further complexities caused by unfavourable weather, delays at the various ports of call and a lack of inter-service cooperation, the difficulties of supplying the MEF were, as one senior logistician later wrote, ‘beyond description or possibility of exaggeration’.[46] Modern supply chain managers could find many cost-saving measures and efficiency dividends in this case study.

Despite these challenges and the delays they caused, the real difficulties, as in most amphibious operations, were found in logistics over the shore: getting the stores and supplies ashore, organising the beach maintenance area, and then distributing them to the troops. None of the three main beaches (Cape Helles, Anzac Cove, Suvla Bay) which made up the advanced bases at Gallipoli were logistically suitable. They were subject to the weather and the beaches were narrow, with limited room for storage and overcrowded with men, headquarters, and piles of wooden boxes containing all matter of stores. They were a hive of activity; in addition to receiving all men and supplies, these same beaches were the evacuation points for sick and wounded personnel.[47]

Figure 2.Anzac Cove, pictured here, was a hive of logistic activity.Stores lined its shore, but its narrow beaches were constantly vulnerable to the whims of the weather and the thunder of Turkish shells. (Source: AWM A03092)

It is worth briefly reflecting on the medical situation. Logistics, after all, is a two-way process. In addition to moving supplies forward, a force must also be conscious of the mechanics of medical evacuation. Casualty evacuation for the initial Gallipoli landings in April 1915 was an utter failure. Inadequate forethought was given to the likely scale of casualties. There were not enough hospital ships for their evacuation, or hospital beds for their immediate treatment and ongoing convalescence. Arrangements improved as the campaign continued but they were never perfect, and operations always took priority over casualty care. In practice, orders were issued prohibiting troops from falling out of their battle columns to assist their wounded comrades. That does not mean that nothing was done to assist the wounded—indeed, the opposite was the case. Stationed in the frontline trenches, regimental stretcher-bearers often ran into no-man’s-land to collect the wounded. They applied basic triage before removing casualties to regimental aid posts. Mild cases could often be treated in the immediate vicinity, at field ambulances or dressing stations, and then sent back to the front. More severe cases were evacuated to casualty clearing stations on the beach and then on to field hospitals. The most severe were sent back to Egypt, Malta or Britain for surgery and recovery.[48] When it came to medical evacuation, logisticians had to be conscious that the routes used for removing the wounded to the beach were the same as those used for supply and transport purposes. Minimising congestion here, and on the beaches themselves, was important. So, too, was ensuring that casualty evacuation from the shore to the waiting hospital ships did not interfere with the disembarkation of reinforcements, guns and stores. The solution, which worked, was to do rearward logistics during the day, leaving the night—with all the concealment benefits that the dark affords—free for resupply. 

Once disembarked at the beaches, ordnance and supplies were stockpiled at locations chosen by the corps. It was then up to each division to liaise with its units and arrange for their distribution to the front line. Each day a regular stream of troops made their way from the trenches down to the beach, where they collected food, water and ammunition and carried them back up the tracks and over ridges to their units in the trenches. Distances were not far, but the journey was tough, especially during summer. Water supply was a particular challenge. Not found ashore in sufficient quantity, it had to be sourced in the region, transported to the peninsula and either carried or pumped ashore into large tanks, from where fatigue parties collected it. When there were no more pressing duties to attend to, troops on fatigue duty were sometimes assisted by the mules and muleteers of the Indian Mule Cart Corps, who would help them carry supplies to the dumps immediately behind the frontlines. It was a long and arduous process, but geographical and topographical constraints meant that there was no other way. Mechanical transport, so fundamental to logistics on the Western Front, for example, could not be used in the rugged terrain found in the Anzac sector.

Let us return to the forward movement of materiel. Given the lack of suitable deep-water piers extending from the beaches, it was necessary to again tranship items into lighters upon their arrival at the peninsula. Being smaller than the supply ships, lighters could approach the piers and unload the goods. For this, it was necessary to have an adequate number of lighters, as well as the requisite labour. Some civilian labour from Greece or Egypt was available but, understandably, most refused to work when under fire. At places like Anzac Cove, which was constantly sprayed with shrapnel, the exhaustive work of manhandling the items from the lighters onto the piers, and then onto the shore where they were stockpiled, was regularly undertaken by troops who should have either been in the front line or enjoying some rest. All of this work was further confused by the lack of clearly defined boundaries of responsibility between the army and navy—doctrine was ambiguous and at times contradictory on who was responsible for what.

For all of these inadequacies, it must be acknowledged that, while they were never plentiful, supplies at Gallipoli were rarely so short that they directly affected the outcome of operations. With the front line frequently no further than one kilometre from the beach, ad hoc arrangements were often sufficient to get by. Had the campaign progressed further inland, however, the logistic system would have likely stretched beyond breaking point and extended supply lines would have been more vulnerable to enemy attack and interdiction. Such challenges further question the validity of the strategy behind the Gallipoli campaign. Although a lack of supplies was not the reason for failure at Gallipoli, it is clear that the MEF did not have everything required to give it a fighting chance. Logistics matters. More importantly, the Gallipoli campaign, like many other aspects of the First World War, was not conceived with logistical limitations in mind. These should have factored into any decision to commit forces in the first place. That they were not is a failure in itself.

Second World War

When developing and refining its amphibious expertise and doctrine during the interwar years, the United States Marine Corps turned to the Gallipoli campaign. Logistics, from procurement and distribution to medical evacuation, was one of the many topics forensically studied for the lessons Gallipoli offered.[49] Britain did too, though not to the same degree. The same was not true in Australia, however, where, as Mina Murray shows us, ‘there were very few attempts to understand the operational or tactical elements that had contributed to its failure’.[50] Murray continues:

For a nation that had established a tradition commemorating the campaign just twelve months after the initial landings on 25 April 1915, it seems strange, even negligent, that so little effort was made to understand the campaign’s military lessons.[51]

To be sure, the campaign was not entirely ignored by Australian military officers, but it was not studied at an institutional level like it had been in America or Britain. Instead, during the interwar years Australia placed its faith in the Royal Navy’s ability to protect Australian interests via the Singapore strategy. In this context, Australian defence planning all but ignored amphibious operations. Consequently, when Japan entered the Second World War, radically changing Australia’s strategic circumstances, the Australian military lacked an amphibious capability. The lessons of Gallipoli had to be relearned the hard way: through costly experience.[52]

Lae (1943)

Australia’s first major amphibious operation of the Second World War occurred in September 1943, against the Japanese base at Lae, New Guinea. Some limited practice loading and unloading men and supplies from amphibious craft was undertaken in Cairns (June-July) and then a rehearsal took place at Normanby Island, off Milne Bay, in August, prior to the operation, though most of the preparatory period had focused on the tactical assault phase at the expense of issues of maintenance, supply and logistics.[53] This meant that virtually nothing was ‘learned of the supply and maintenance problems’ of amphibious operations.[54] Beyond what Gallipoli might have taught the Allies, this oversight ignored a number of recent lessons that they had already shared from their experiences in other theatres. One was that ‘adequate training and rehearsals are pre requisite to any operation’, and another that ‘adequate personnel and material must be available for clearing the beach and dock areas of supplies’. The experiences of North Africa, in particular, emphasised the need for an organised beachhead, with men and vehicles to move stores to dumps rather than leaving them mixed on the beach.[55]

Although successful, the amphibious landing at Lae highlighted a number of deficiencies, particularly in logistics. Getting ashore in the face of limited Japanese resistance was not a problem, but the limitations of the amphibious assets allocated for the maintenance of the beachhead rapidly became evident. In particular, the US Army 2nd Engineering Special (Amphibious) Brigade was insufficient for the size of the operation and unable to maintain a division ashore (it was designed to support a brigade only). Having earlier rejected the offer of a beach ordnance detachment, the commander of the 9th Australian Division, Major General George Wootten, was forced by operational necessities after lodgement to reduce his frontline combat power and reallocate troops from a pioneer battalion and two infantry battalions to the task of unloading resupply ships. Rather than fixing the problem, the outcome was bottlenecks and blockages on the congested beaches. Supplies were placed alongside fuel and ammunition dumps—a major hazard given Japanese air raids on the beachhead.[56] Poor logistic planning could have been disastrous had the Japanese launched a determined bombing raid on the supply dumps.[57]

Lae revealed that while Australian units and formations were adept in amphibious assault, logistics proved to be their Achilles heel. Nearly half of the 35 post-operational lessons identified by the 9th Australian Division, for example, concerned logistics. It is worth listing some, both for their insight into the development of Australia’s amphibious logistics capabilities throughout the remainder of the war and for their contemporary relevance today. Logistic plans and preparations had been negatively affected by, among other things, late changes to operational plans. It was recommended that, in future, army, navy and air force staffs should be co-located during the planning process as a joint staff, able to work out issues and alter plans. The divisional headquarters also required that it be consulted prior to equipment tables being settled, thereby eliminating unnecessary stores being loaded and transported to the beaches, as had occurred at Lae.[58] Recognising training deficiencies, it was also suggested that supply and transport elements should undertake specialised training and rehearsals in loading and unloading supplies in the same type of craft to be used in an operation. They should practice making stockpiles and constructing roads from the beaches into the jungle.[59]

The main logistic lessons were to be found on the beachheads. Beach organisation, congestion and forward supply could all be improved by better preparation, the employment of a beach master with overall authority in the landing zone, and the formation of specialised logistic units for work on the beaches.[60]A self-contained beach landing group, with its own staff and attached to the division, was deemed ‘a necessity’ for working the beach maintenance area.[61] It would also free up personnel for the quick preparation of beach exits and the formation of supply dumps, both essential elements in reducing congestion and clearing stores from the beach, where they were more vulnerable to air attack. On top of additional labour was a requirement for more vehicles and small craft.[62] The final, and most crucial, lesson was the requirement for better cooperation and closer liaison at all stages between the three services and the United States Navy.[63]

All of these recommendations could be met through structural changes and increased training and familiarisation in amphibious warfare and its logistic peculiarities.[64] One key measure, implemented in late 1943 and early 1944, was the establishment of two joint beach groups, each consisting of army troops, engineers, pioneers, signallers, medical staff and a RAN beach commando, and each totalling 1,800 men. Their role was to clear the beach, liaise with the forces offshore, and unload the landing craft.[65]Longer term logistic support beyond the initial landing, when a base had been established, became the responsibility of another new organisation formed in 1944, Base Sub Areas.[66] An Australian/US amphibious training school (the Joint Overseas Operational Training School, JOOTS) had been established at Port Stephens in late 1942 and was subsumed the following year into the 7th Amphibious Force’s Amphibious Training Centre (ATC). Specialist training in logistics increasingly featured in its program. Many of those in the new beach groups attended the school, improving inter-service logistics cooperation.[67]Training was as realistic as possible. Exercise Mittens at Cairns, 21–22 December 1943, for instance, included loading assault craft, landing the force, developing a beachhead, and delivering 500 tons of stores ashore, and was described as ‘probably the best exercise the Beach Group ever did’.[68] By the time Australia’s military forces were tasked with the liberation of the oil-rich island of Borneo, which the Japanese had occupied since 1942, the lessons from Lae had been learned, implemented and rehearsed. 

Borneo (1945)

Detailed planning for the assaults on Borneo, codenamed Operation OBOE, began in March 1945.[69] Transport shipping shortages caused some postponements, but eventually GHQ settled on three operations in three stages: OBOE One, a landing by the 26th Infantry Brigade Group (9th Australian Division) at Tarakan Island on 1 May; OBOE Six, by the remainder of the 9th Division at Labuan Island and Brunei Bay on 10 June; and OBOE Two, by the 7th Australian Division at Balikpapan on 1 July 1945. Each operation had similar objectives: to seize and destroy all enemy forces in the area, thus allowing it to be used as a naval and air base for future operations, and, when possible, to re-establish civil government.[70] Dayton McCarthy’s book The Oboe Landings 1945 is the most recent detailed examination of these operations, the largest amphibious assaults in Australian military history.[71]

Unlike Lae, logistics underpinned the planning for each of the Borneo operations from the very beginning. Relevant divisions, for example, were drawn into the planning process before their parent headquarters (1st Australian Corps) issued orders defining every operation’s logistic considerations, including key dates and who was responsible for supply, resupply and the ongoing maintenance of the force. Balikpapan is indicative of the logistic forethought and preparedness for these operations. It also shows just how central logistic considerations had become to operational commanders and their staffs. Before operations commenced the 7th Australian Division’s commander, Major General Edward Milford, commented that the problem was not in landing the troops ‘but in landing heavy equipment and stores since beaches may be vulnerable to shelling’.[72] His concerns about getting supplies over the shore directly contributed to the selection of Klandasan—with its firm sand rather than the mangroves that were predominant along the coast—as the landing site.[73] Another reason for its selection was its close proximity to Balikpapan Bay, the use of which ‘would ease the problem of supply over the beach and would be a safeguard against unfavourable weather’.[74]

Before the Borneo operations got to that point, however, men and materiel had to be transported from Cairns, Townsville and Brisbane to the staging base at Morotai. Beginning on 12 March 1945, thousands of troops, vehicles, equipment and stores made the journey every week. Almost all shipping was provided by the US Army Services of Supply (USASOS). By the time the 7th and 9th Australian Divisions departed Australia, Lieutenant General Sir Leslie Morshead’s 1st Australian Corps ‘had been equipped to a level never previously achieved by an Australian Formation during this War’.[75] Morotai was a hive of activity and hard work in preparation for the embarkation of the assault convoys. These ships, mostly provided by the United States Navy (although with RAN ships involved), would either run ashore or, in the case of Tarakan, offload using naval pontoons and amphibious craft at the objective area. They therefore had to be tactically (or combat) loaded, with only vital equipment—and no bulk stores—placed on amphibious shipping, and loaded in such a way that the most important equipment could be unloaded first, so as to enable fast disembarkation by the beach groups and for the ships’ quick return to Morotai for resupply purposes.[76]

Leaving the staging base, the assault convoys carried minimal although sufficient supplies to establish the force ashore. In the case of Tarakan, this amounted to 18 days’ supplies and 20 days’ ammunition. If required, each force could call upon the USASOS floating reserves of ammunition and petroleum, oil and lubricants (POL) or, in an emergency, rations and ammunition could be flown from Morotai and airdropped to the ground forces (at Tarakan, for instance, nearly 1,300 3-inch mortar bombs were air-dropped on 3 June, with 100 per cent recovery and serviceability of all ammunition and parachutes).[77] The initial resupply, to boost the stocks carried in the assault waves, was also delivered from Morotai. After that, the maintenance of the forces—with the exception of Tarakan—shifted from Morotai to Australia, with supplies periodically pushed forward based on expected usage rates, and shipping arriving at the sub-bases on an as-required basis.[78]

Balikpapan (OBOE Two), the third and final landing of General Douglas MacArthur’s campaign to reclaim Borneo, was the largest and last amphibious assault conducted by Australian forces during the Second World War. Despite its tactical success, the mission’s strategic validity was questionable: its own commanders thought that it lacked a tangible objective and doubted its relevance to defeating the Japanese.[79] Despite these reservations, the operation proceeded as planned. Similar to the Tarakan and Brunei Bay/Labuan operations, the mission fell to formations of the 1st Australian Corps, with considerable backing from US air, naval, and logistics forces. A 20-day preliminary bombardment, consisting of a staggering amount of ordnance, set a record for the largest ever supporting an Australian mission.[80] Japanese defences were obliterated.[81] Simultaneously, US Navy underwater demolition teams diligently cleared the approaches to the beaches, paving the way for a formidable force of 33,500 men and over 100 ships to commence their approach.[82]

Figure 3.Firing rockets on Balikpapan beach, Borneo.Across two runs, 20,000 rockets were fired by units of the 7th Fleet preceding the landing by Australian forces on F-Day. (Source: Library of Congress: LC-USZ62-99261)

At precisely 7 am on 1 July, a barrage of firepower from cruisers, destroyers and Liberator aircraft was unleashed upon on the beaches at Klandasan. The first two waves of troops, gathered offshore in Landing Ship, Tanks (LSTs), were transferred from these LSTs into US-crewed Landing Vehicle Tracked (LVT) ‘Alligators’ for the journey towards the shore. Fire support switched to cover the flanks and rear as they got closer to the coastline.[83] The first and second waves of troops, landing on a two-brigade, 2 kilometre front, reached the shore just before 9 am.[84] It took less than 15 minutes for the 7th Australian Division to secure the beachhead.[85] Within a span of just over a week, the Australians achieved their initial objectives. Yet, for all its tactical success, OBOE Two had negligible strategic influence and did not shorten the war by a single minute.[86] 

Balikpapan was the pinnacle, or ‘high water’, of Australian littoral logistics in the Second World War.[87] Initial lodgement was swift. The beach group, previously commended by MacArthur for their exceptional work during OBOE Six, landed at Balikpapan with the second wave. Drawing upon recent experience, they promptly marked out the beaches and directed the subsequent waves through the maintenance area.[88] By the morning of 3 July the combined efforts of American and Australian forces resulted in the disembarkation of approximately 1,000 vehicles, over 16,500 personnel, and nearly 2,000 tons of equipment and stores. [89] Once the beachheads were secured, the focus shifted towards establishing docks to both ease and increase the flow of supplies. The Australians constructed a pontoon dock, but by far the standout was the U-shaped dock built by US forces. This design allowed two LSTs to be unloaded at once and significantly enhanced the speed at which supplies could be got ashore. Another beach, capable of accommodating eight LSTs simultaneously and better protected from the weather, was opened on 10 July and remained the primary logistic hub for the remainder of the operation.[90]

The three OBOE operations showed the Allied forces—air, sea and land—at their most logistically proficient. Where obstacles were faced, such as the difficulty of getting supplies ashore over pontoons onto unsuitable beaches at Tarakan, the temporary breakdown of inter-service communication at Brunei Bay, or congestion on the beaches at Balikpapan caused by the destruction of piers, the beach groups, working with the fighting force, overcame them through familiarisation, improvisation, cooperation and hard work. Overall, and despite many small problems, the OBOE operations were a logistic success.[91] The forces achieved their objectives and there were—with few exceptions—no significant complaints about a lack of stores or supplies. The reasons for these logistic successes were many. Primary among them, though, was a willingness and ability to learn and adapt from past experience. Proficiency, whether in logistics or other matters, came through proper planning, preparation and training. 

Allied logistic systems were proven by the time that the Australians landed at Balikpapan in July 1945. The establishment of the JOOTS and the courses provided afterwards by the ATC equipped the Australians with the knowledge and skills to proficiently execute amphibious operations. Furthermore, structural improvements to the force, combined with training serials, rehearsals, and learning lessons from previous operations, ensured that they understood joint and combined logistic processes—both in theory and in practice. Australian amphibious capability in 1945, with all the US support inherent, stands in stark contrast to the logistical challenges encountered at Lae less than two years prior. This marked difference can be attributed to various factors, including gained experience, enhanced confidence, established trust, well-defined roles and, crucially, the presence of sea and air supremacy. Additionally, successful logistics in 1945 was made possible by leveraging unprecedented US shipping support, which was crucial for moving all of the personnel, stores, equipment, and masses of ammunition from the supply bases in Australia to the theatre of operations. At the end of the Second World War, as with more recent times, Australia was logistically reliant on its allies.

Conclusion

History shows us that despite changes in technology, some of the logistic challenges of operating in littoral environments are constant: sea lines of communication demand protecting; where a land base does not exist, or a staging base is too far distant, a force needs sufficient shipping for sea basing, troop transport, transhipping, amphibious assault and disembarkation; materiel needs to be unloaded over the shore, organised and cached, and distributed where and when required and in sufficient quantities; stocks require replenishment and equipment requires spares, repairs or salvage before depletion; and the reverse flow of casualty treatment and evacuation must be given adequate forethought. Then, of course, there are the inherent complications of inter-service administration and cooperation. 

More explicitly, the case studies above offer some specific lessons and raise issues worthy of further consideration and nuanced study. Even if deployed somewhere as benign as German New Guinea was in 1914—a not implausible proposition if the objective is to pre-emptively secure terrain to deter, harass or interdict an enemy—an Australian integrated force will still encounter logistic trials, from supplying basic items like water and rations to more significant challenges of ensuring the continuation of local trade or, in its absence, provisions for the local population. That might seem simple in principle, but it will be a major problem if sea trade is disrupted or if Australia is required to fill the void for any protracted period from its own wholly insufficient strategic reserves. 

Gallipoli, too, offers up logistic lessons, especially in terms of illustrating what a poorly designed and implemented logistics plan looks like. The only thing preventing that calamitous campaign from being a logistic disaster was the failure of the MEF to actually advance far enough to stretch the lines of communication to breaking point. Nonetheless, supply over the shore still suffered from inter-service rivalry, doctrinal ambiguity on defining responsibilities for beach work, and a host of other factors. If only one lesson is taken from the Gallipoli case study, it should be the importance of realistic casualty forecasting and ensuring the medical arrangements and resources are sufficient to cope with the demands.  

In both Gallipoli and Borneo, we see examples of the significant bearing that both geography and terrain can have on logistics. None of the multiple island bases, or the floating reserves supporting the former campaign, were logistically suitable. Narrow beaches under constant enemy fire allowed little space for maintenance areas and little capacity for storage. The rugged hills and razor ridges immediately confronting the coast meant mechanical transport could not be employed, and everything had to be carried on the backs of men or mules. Those same factors could be overcome at Balikpapan where, unlike at Gallipoli, the operational plan—including the choice of landing sites—was made with logistic considerations firmly in mind. For example, Klandasan was selected over other beaches because of its logistic suitability.

Another lesson that can be drawn from a comparison between 1915 and 1945 is the advantage (where considerable scale and timeliness are concerned) of ‘push’ over ‘pull’ logistic systems. The First World War on the Western Front showed how unworkable pull systems are from an administrative perspective. Gallipoli reinforced this fact and provided countless examples where the pull system resulted in costly and unworkable delays. A pre-emptive push system, like that employed at Borneo, was far better, even if it led to wastage: that is, it was preferable to have more, and immediately accessible, than it was to have to wait for the system to catch up. This tension, which raises questions of stockpiling and the capacity of the national support base to withstand wastage, is worth further consideration from the strategic to tactical levels within government and Defence. 

If Gallipoli is examined for what ought to be avoided logistically, Borneo is a case study in what good littoral logistics looks like. Unlike in the case of Lae, those planning the OBOE operations examined past experience for logistic lessons. Where Lae (like Gallipoli) had been characterised by the physical separation of planning staffs and dislocation between the services, for Borneo they were brought together. What is more, the training and organisational systems had evolved to ensure that logistic processes and logistic units—and the physical work of unloading supplies and establishing beachheads—were practised, tested, improved, and practised again. Simple things, like combat loading, were perfected so as to minimise the time amphibious craft spent discharging goods in contested areas: this benefited the tactical fight and bolstered the logistic capacity for resupply and reinforcements. The Army and the ADF must ensure that sufficient redundancy is built into its systems so that multiple personnel across the force are logistically proficient. As Gallipoli’s reliance on troops rather than dedicated fatigue parties reminds us, it is these types of tasks and specialisations that suffer through ‘ad hocism’.

Those in the Australian Defence Force charged with finding solutions to tomorrow’s challenges ought to heed Julian Thompson’s advice: many of the answers to current questions already exist in hard-earned past experience, in the operational orders and after-action reports of battles long gone, and in dusty tomes on library bookshelves. Lieutenant General Morshead’s post-operational report on the OBOE operations, and its appended operational and logistic instructions, is a great place to start. 

About the Author

Dr Rhys Crawley is a senior lecturer in history at UNSW Canberra, and the author of the Official History of Australian Operations in Afghanistan, 2005-2010. From 2016-2023 Rhys was an historian at the Australian War Memorial. Prior to that, from 2010-2016, he worked at the Strategic and Defence Studies Centre, Coral Bell School of Asia-Pacific Affairs, at The Australian National University, where he was the principal researcher and co-author of the multi-volume Official History of the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation, and co-author of volume 1 of the Official History of Australian Peacekeeping, Humanitarian, and Post-Cold War Operations. His books include Climax at Gallipoli: The Failure of the August Offensive (2014), The Secret Cold War: The Official History of ASIO, 1975-1989 (2016), Intelligence and the Function of Government (2018), Gallipoli: New Perspectives on the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force 1915-16 (2018), and The Long Search for Peace: Observer Missions and Beyond, 1947-2006 (2019).

Endnotes