Armies gather on Australia's front line

By Greg Ansley

Herald reporter with the troops

DARWIN - In a city where the scars and memories of war mark highways and cling grimly to massive gun emplacements still staring out to the Timor Sea, Australian Prime Minister John Howard had small comfort to offer.

Last night he stood with Opposition Leader Kim Beazley to farewell troops from Townsville to a fate still unknown, but undoubtedly fraught with danger and the risk of death.

There was no choice but to take that risk, he said in a six-minute address to the nation: it was not only right, but also in Australia's national interest.

"We wish them Godspeed and a safe return."

Today he and Mr Beazley will watch more soldiers leave Darwin.

On Saturday HMNZS Te Kaha, in company with the British destroyer Glasgow, set sail for East Timor, escorting the Australian heavy landing craft Balikpapan, Labuan and Brunei.

Another taskforce of Australian supply ships and frigates also slipped into the calm waters off Darwin, ahead of the main body of troops that will begin to pour in to a tiny half-island that has become pivotal to the immediate stability of this region.

Darwin is used to armies.

The city has become the nation's front line of defence under a policy of northern deployment that has seen the creation of a second ready-reaction brigade, the concentration of most of its armour and a powerful Air Force presence.

But it is also used to Indonesia, just a few hours away and tied closely to it by trade, culture and a sense of kinship still alien to most of the Australian population, concentrated thousands of kilometres to the south.

There is a deep sense of sadness that Australia and Indonesia should once again be glaring at each other through military eyes, and that the decades of work rebuilding a relationship rent by confrontation in the 1960s has been shattered by the violence of pro-Jakarta militias and the Army that supported them.

But there is also outrage that such terror could be inflicted upon the Timorese, who even before the flood of refugees were a large and visible part of the life of Darwin.

The Indonesian consulate here has been pelted with stones, its cars attacked and staff threatened.

Demonstrations by Timorese exiles and their supporters have become part of life.

So, in a very short time, has the largest concentration of military force since the Second World War.

The Darwin-based Australian forces are being joined by a steadily growing coalition, at last count involving 21 countries, promises of more than 10,000 personnel, a small armada of warships and a stream of aircraft.

At Darwin airport, C130 Hercules painted in United Nations white squat alongside others still dull with the camouflage of war.

A flight of F/A-18 fighters crouches nearby.

Defence bases are packed to capacity. So is the city's accommodation, overflowing with an influx that includes more than 200 foreign and local journalists.

Such is the pressure for beds that an Irish photographer was forced to bunk down in a backpackers' dormitory with thousands of dollars worth of digital cameras and satellite phones.

If Darwin is on the doorstep of war, at least business is good.