A campaign is gathering momentum in Australia to build a permanent memorial in Canberra for the 2,800 Indian soldiers who perished in the jungles of Papua New Guinea during World War II. The demand, however, is not only about commemoration of the dead it is also about honouring a forgotten story of mateship between Indian and Australian troops, symbolised by the extraordinary resilience of one man: Major Chint Singh of the 2nd Dogra Regiment.
While official Indian narratives of the Second World War often focus on the Burma front, the Quit India movement, or North Africa, the Pacific theatre remains almost entirely absent from public memory. Yet it was here, in the sweltering jungles of New Guinea, that nearly 3,000 Indian soldiers transported as prisoners of war from Singapore endured unimaginable conditions under Japanese captivity. By 1945, only 200 of them were alive.
After the fall of Singapore in 1942, close to 3,000 Indian troops were shipped to Papua New Guinea by the Japanese. What awaited them was not combat, but starvation, disease, and brutality. Food and medicine were denied, and soldiers survived by eating grass, snakes, frogs and insects. Despite these inhuman conditions, many clung to the discipline of military life refusing to abandon their soldierly decorum.
Among them was Major Chint Singh. His leadership, presence of mind, and resilience kept a handful of men alive until liberation. His story barely acknowledged in India became etched in Australian memory.
On September 30 1945, weeks after Japan’s surrender, Singh and his skeletal band of survivors stumbled into Angoram, where they first encountered Australian soldiers. Lieutenant F.O. Monk of the Australian Army would later write, “I will never forget the picture of you and your men as you all came ashore at Angoram. It will be with me as long as I live.”
Though emaciated, Singh’s men lined up in full military decorum, saluting and reporting as soldiers. Australians, deeply moved, rushed them to Wewak, where the 15th Australian Field Ambulance provided urgent care. In an extraordinary gesture of camaraderie, Australian soldiers wrote letters home on behalf of the Indians and offered companionship in their recovery.
Weeks later, on November 16 1945, tragedy struck when ten Indian soldiers perished in a plane crash near Rabaul while returning home. Singh, held back to testify before the Australian War Crimes Commission, was devastated.
But in this period, his bond with Australians deepened further. Sharing quarters with officers such as Captain Bruce of the 30th Infantry Battalion, Singh found kinship in unexpected places. In January 1946, he penned a farewell letter to the 6th Australian Division:
“The sympathy, love, and affection shown by every individual of the Division will always be with us… hoping that the friendship of your country and India will continue for all the time.” That letter remains preserved at the Australian War Memorial in Canberra one of the rare documents carrying the voice of an Indian soldier from the Pacific theatre.
Honours soon followed. Major Singh was invited to sign the Japanese surrender flag, which still hangs at the Australian War Memorial a rare tribute for a non-Australian officer. He returned to Australia in 1947 to assist with war crimes testimony, and in 1970, he revisited the region for the 25th anniversary of the war’s end, meeting old comrades and renewing friendships.
In 1971, the Returned and Services League (RSL) erected a memorial at Angoram to honour the 2,800 Indians who never returned. That memorial was later destroyed in floods a second erasure of men already written out of history.
Singh’s son, Narinder Parmar, submitted a proposal in 2022 to erect a permanent memorial in Canberra. Support has been growing, with veterans’ groups and diaspora organisations pressing for recognition of Indian sacrifices on Australian soil.
The question arises: why build a memorial in Canberra if the soldiers died in Papua New Guinea? The answer lies in the extraordinary bonds formed in those final months. For Australians, “mateship” the notion of loyalty, solidarity and shared sacrifice is sacred. For Singh and his men, that mateship was lived reality. Their rescue, recovery, and dignity were restored not by their own country’s forces, but by Australians.
The proposed Canberra memorial would therefore symbolise not just sacrifice, but a rare international comradeship forged in blood, hunger and survival.
As India and Australia today speak of strategic partnerships in the Indo-Pacific, the story of Major Singh and his men is a reminder that their ties are not merely diplomatic or economic. They are rooted in shared hardship, resilience, and sacrifice.
This is also a reminder of India’s forgotten frontiers in the world wars. While Indian blood is remembered in France (Neuve-Chapelle), Gallipoli, Burma, and North Africa, the Pacific theatre is barely acknowledged in New Delhi’s official commemorations.
