Blacktrackers' Magic

Most exotic U.S. allies in the Pacific theater of war are the Australian aborigines, coal black and little touched by civilization, who have shown an uncanny ability to track lost soldiers and airmen in the savage wastelands of Northern Australia.

Fresh proof of their usefulness came from Allied Headquarters last week with the announcement that Staff Sergeant Grady Gaston, of Frisco City,Ala. was recovering after wandering in the wild bush country for 111 days. Gaston was one of the crewmen who bailed out of a U.S. Liberator bomber in a blinding storm on Dec. 1. Three officers with him died in the jungle ; Gaston was saved when a native found him on March 21.

Australians call the bush-haired natives "Abos" or "Boongs"; the complex, almost telepathic process by which they trail missing men is "blacktracking." Soon after U.S. troops arrived, two soldiers took a furlough to go hunting, and got bushed. A tracker turned them up in jig time after 400 white soldiers had scoured the area in vain.

Americans find the Boongs a constant source of wonder for their childlike good nature and shiny black skins, as well as for their highly developed bushcraft. (One private stared at an Abo in amazement, then said: "He's so black he's almost purple.") Boongs like to hang around soldiers' camps, where they get gifts of tobacco, flour and tea, and occasionally a profitable job of tracking.

Charlie No. 2 Takes Over. Instructions are usually given in the crudest of pidgin English. If a plane is known to be down in the bush an officer may order: "Charlie No. 2, you all along go find a motor-car-run-along-sky come down that way." (The number distinguishes this tracker from Charlie No. 1, 3, 4 and so on.)

If the area of the crash is some distance away, Charlie No. 2 may go part way by plane or truck. Then he goes ahead on foot, seeming to wander aimlessly, pausing now and again to examine a clump of bushes, some disarranged grass or stones. When the trail becomes fresher he lopes forward, confident and tireless. Sometimes he warns that they had better hurry, saying "Bimeby he finish."

That means the tracks have told him that, a day before, the missing pilot was beginning to walk unsteadily or, worst sign of all, broke into a staggering run for a few steps. When the man is found the Boong invariably sees him first, points ahead with a laconic: "Him fella there."

In Moss and Stones. Expert trackers can follow a trail from horseback even across flat granite rocks and the pebbly "Gibber Country" of the interior. There is virtually no vegetation, but the trackers watch for displaced pebbles or almost invisible marks in the vestiges of moss burnt to dust by the pitiless sun.

Boongs, some of whom speak fair mission English, are almost invariably friendly to white men, but take a low view of the Japanese. Their standard appraisal: "Jap, him all along bad fella." This attitude, plus the pidgin English system of communication, brought both fright and embarrassment to a U.S. fighter pilot who had a forced landing. Two naked black men with rifles popped up, disarmed him and made signs for him to put his hands up. Stepping back, the pilot tapped his chest impressively and said: "Me American!" Replied one of the Abos: "Well, why didn't you say so? We thought you might be a Jap."

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