16
Individual Views

Warrant Officer Class 1 Brian Betts (from the 1990 edition)

It all started for me when a letter arrived at my home in Sydney stating, ‘You are to report to Rushcutter’s Bay Recruiting Depot at 10 am 12 December 1953’. I had waited for about a month for this to arrive, ever since I had completed my national service commitment. On arrival at Rushcutter’s Bay, complete with cut lunch and shaving gear, I found I was waiting with two other nervous young men, one for the army and one intending to go into the navy. I hope that Tex has forgiven me after all of these years for talking him into joining the army instead.

After a medical, and filling in a number of forms, we were sworn in as part of the Australian Army, placed in a truck, driven to Marrickville personnel depot and issued with our uniforms. Because two of us were ex-national servicemen, we were placed on the next night’s guard roster. We were waiting until a group marched out of Kapooka to form a platoon for training at 4 RAR (the reinforcement battalion).

The beginning of the new year, 1954, started with a trip to Ingleburn to join up with the platoon with which we were to commence training. And what a platoon it was, a mixture of raw young men like myself, others coming into the infantry corps from other corps, and ex-diggers from the Second World War, all wanting to serve in Korea. At our first briefing, the company commander, Arch Dennis, asked the assembled group if anyone had had previous rank. I knew a few were ex-corporals and sergeants and even one was an ex-warrant officer, but not one hand was put up. Then up crept one. ‘OK, son, what rank were you?’ barked Arch. ‘I was a lance corporal in national service, sir,’ was the reply. Arch looked him up and down and explained to all what a disgusting rank it was. Thus our training started. We learned all about infantry tactics at section and platoon level, all about infantry weapons (Bren, rifle, 2-inch mortar, Owen gun, etc), and we were marched out to Green Hills from Ingleburn to learn to dig holes at Little Korea for a week or two at a time.

During this time we were a rather mixed bag: corps converts, UK enlistees and of course regular army trainees, which made the stay at Ingleburn rather interesting. On one occasion a platoon member released the prisoner when he was on guard duty because he felt sorry for him. On another occasion a Scotsman (Jock) had the duty of filling the water buckets one morning but forgot. When questioned by the OC as to why they were empty, he explained that the birds were real thirsty that morning. The battalion at this time had a terrific football team, in which I had the privilege to play.

About this time I also had the privilege of observing the RSM (WO1 Tom Muggleton) and decided that I would like to make the army a career and try to become a WO1. I can honestly say that Tom had a tremendous impact on my life and career, and for this I am truly thankful.

After about seven or eight months’ training we were all ushered into the lecture room one morning, warned for service overseas and given fourteen days’ pre-embarkation leave. This is what all the training we had done was all about.

Before leaving 4 RAR all reinforcements had a farewell dinner, which consisted of a slap-up feed and booze, and continued until we boarded the trucks to take us to the airport and off on the great adventure. The plane departed at 9.30 pm and went via Port Moresby, Guam and then to Japan, landing at Iwakuni. We crossed the Inland Sea by boat to Kure, and then went by truck to Hiro, where our training started again, this time to get us fit. The training consisted of marching up Hill 254 and running down, then long marches carrying all sorts of gear, 3-inch mortars, Vickers machine-guns, as well as all our gear, and culminated in attending the Battle School at Haramura. What an experience that was! The live firing exercises were great, and I have never been involved in anything so realistic, except for the real thing. It is a pity that the army could not continue with something like it now. On completion of this training we were all declared ready for Korea. I am afraid a few of us had to stay behind to finish the football season, which we ended with a victory.

The trip from Kure to Inchon in Korea in the MV Wo Sang was slow and uneventful. Then we went by truck to 1 RAR at the peace camp, where I arrived in April 1955. I suppose I can honestly say that until we sailed to return to Australia in 1956 it was fairly uneventful; a lot of hard work on the defence line called the Kansas Line, a lot of patrolling of the Demilitarised Zone, and a couple of R&Rs in Japan thrown in. A promotion course was squeezed in and I was promoted to temporary corporal.

When the battalion packed up and moved to Inchon to board the New Australia, it was rather a sad day as it took away an overseas posting where Australian soldiers could mix with troops of other nations and learn their trade. I believe this is now lacking in our forces. The trip to Sydney was uneventful and I do not think I will ever forget the morning we sailed into Sydney, one of the most delightful sights I have ever seen. The welcome we received when we marched through the city was tremendous, and of course it was extra great for me as I met my future wife.

Once the battalion re-formed, training started again, which was very interesting. There were trips to the field-firing area at Noosa, Queensland, and the senior soldiers were given specialist weapons courses, Vickers MG, 3-inch mortars, and signals. About this time I was posted to a national service unit in Sydney to become an instructor.

In about January 1957, I returned to 1 RAR at Enoggera camp to take over a section in D Company. The battalion was building up and training for service in Malaya and it was a rather hectic time. In the meantime the battalion played rugby union in the local civilian reserve grade competition and won it. The following year the battalion team formed the basis of an army team in the A Grade competition where they were very successful and produced some very good football players. The battalion took part in a number of large exercises during this period, both near Sydney, and in 1959 near Mackay in north Queensland. Around September 1959 the battalion boarded SS Flaminia and sailed to relieve 3 RAR in Malaya.

After our acclimatisation in Singapore and our compulsory stint at the Jungle Warfare School we moved up country and my company, now B Company, was sent to Sungei Siput where we began two years on operations in Malaya.

I believe that these were two of the most frustrating years I have ever put in. The constant patrolling, not seeing sight nor sound of any CTs, was soul destroying. I can now tell everyone who has heard the story of the patrol that walked backwards into Thailand in bare feet, that it was true; I know because I was part of that patrol. Take it from me, it happened.

Members of 1 RAR search a ‘CT’ in July 1959 in a ‘Malayan village’ constructed at Enoggera to prepare the battalion prior to its departure for Malaya (AWM photo no. CUN/796/NC).

During this time B Company was selected to take part in a SEATO exercise with the Royal Marine commandos in HMS Bulwark. This was a terrific opportunity for the troops to work with the commandos, and it was excellent value. So off we went to Singapore to train and prepare to board the aircraft carrier; even our sergeant cook went, as a private!

While in Singapore the NCOs were required to do a duty with the Royal Military Police (RMP) because the RMP had no jurisdiction over the Australian troops from up country. After our lectures on out-of-bounds areas and so forth, we went on leave, except for me who had the duty for that night, selected alphabetically of course. After patrolling around all the areas of Singapore and Johore Bahru, the patrol went into an out-of-bounds area in Singapore where two people in a trishaw were seen. The MP patrol stopped to question them and after a few minutes I was called to go forward. On arrival I found, sitting in the trishaw, my company commander and his second-in-command, quite obviously lost and being taken through the out-of-bounds area. There were very red faces but no charges were laid.

The company boarded the carrier and went off to sea to become ‘Australian Marine Commandos’. The trip was really an eye-opener, with the fleet being attacked by air and submarine, but one thing that really stuck in all our minds, I believe, was the many ways the British cooks could cook potatoes.

We landed on Borneo and began our advance inland with B Company taking over the point when the weather became bad and the other troops could not fly in their gear. The Australian troops had everything on their backs including five days’ rations, so off we went. By gee, there are some bloody big hills in that country. At the end of the stunt, after a bit of a dust up with the US Marines, the Australian troops were taken back on board and all went back to Singapore where we said our sad farewells to 42 Commando, Royal Marines and headed up country again.

The two years I spent in Malaya were of tremendous value to me. From landing on an LZ cut out of the jungle and going up and down river by long boat, to going on a two-man patrol for ten days with my heart in my mouth all the time and getting a bad report when I protested: it all made for a very interesting tour. Then there was the tiger that walked into the base camp ambush, resulting in a large number of huchies and dixies being shot up and the tiger returning about twenty minutes later to scout around again. That story made the Straits Times.

The families of the soldiers had a hard time as their husbands were out on patrol for about 30 days, back home for five and then off again. As I think about it, and remember my talks with the wives while I was at the Infantry Directorate many years later, I wonder if the modern day wife of the serviceman could put up with that type of life. But it made a very solid marriage in some cases and a very dedicated army.

At the end of 1961 my family and I moved to Butterworth, boarded a Super Constellation aircraft, and flew home to Australia, thus closing the chapter on the 1 RAR’s tour of Malaya and starting another chapter in the battalion’s history when we became a pentropic battalion. I was promoted to the rank of sergeant and transferred to the Mortar Platoon.

The period from 1962 to 1965 was taken up with trials, exercises and reequipping the battalion. We had a couple of very nice scenic walks over the Gosper Range on exercises such as Icebreaker and Nutcracker; we had a good trip from Jervis Bay to Eden on a landing craft, and a large number of helicopter trials lifting the battalion mortars, which consisted of twelve tubes in three sections, each of four mortars.

During this period we had a number of visiting units with us for exercises, and during one of these visits a tradition was born. After a visit from an Irish unit we had a farewell in the sergeants’ mess and the RSM of the unit presented our RSM, ‘Macka’ McKay, with a shillelagh, to be carried by all RSMs of 1 RAR on a battalion parade, close to or on St Patrick’s Day. I believe it is still in the 1 RAR sergeants’ mess.

Early in 1965 the battalion went through a tremendous upheaval. We went back to being a conventional battalion and we split to form 5 RAR at Holsworthy. This ended my career in 1 RAR and started my short stay in 5 RAR.

During our exercises in the Gospers we had many a humorous experience: I remember the Irish soldier with the Irish battalion who was found wandering around poking the ground and muttering that he believed he was on the moon instead of Australia and I can recall the time the troops of the Mortar Platoon told the Irish mortarmen, as they relieved them, that wombat holes were made by snakes that only came out at night and to set trip flares across the entrances to warn them when they were coming out. I believe that a large number of Irish soldiers never slept on that exercise.

Early in 1965 I went off on my warrant officer’s course, and 1 RAR was warned for service in South Vietnam. I came back to 5 RAR on completion of a guard in Martin Place to learn that I was to move to Scheyville as a warrant officer instructor. I did not get back to the regiment until 1969. In the meantime I served at the Officer Training Unit at Scheyville, with the AATTV, and with the 13th Cadet Battalion, before I found myself on the way to Woodside to help re-form 3 RAR for its second tour in South Vietnam.

On arrival at 3 RAR I helped form C Company then went back to New South Wales to pick up my family. On return I was appointed CSM of D Company, and with the OC started the Red Devils of 3 RAR. This period was, I think, one of the most rewarding of my career. One thing I must put straight for the record: the idea of the Red Devils of D Company was discussed by me and the OC, Keith Sticpewich, and my wife embroidered a badge for each of us. This was, I believe, the only company emblem ever to receive government approval. The Minister for the Army, Andrew Peacock, was to visit the company during training, and when he arrived by helicopter the GOC Central Command, Brigadier O.D. Jackson, was with him. The GOC questioned me about the object on my hat and I explained to him that it had been introduced to engender esprit de corps and to raise morale. Immediately Mr Peacock gave his approval for it to be worn. Thus the Delta Devils came into being and the badge was worn by all the soldiers with, I believe, pride.

I will not go into our tour of South Vietnam, as a lot has been written, except to say that after our first week there, we had a company of veterans, and after that tour I am proud to say that I served with a great bunch of soldiers.

The remainder of my service was spent away from the regiment, but while I was serving in the Directorate of Infantry, I looked forward to the trips back to the battalions of the RAR, even if it was only for a couple of days.

Often I am asked whether I miss the army, and what was the most memorable time of my career. The answer is ‘yes’ I do miss the comradeship and mateship of the army. My fondest memory is my service in the Royal Australian Regiment. Given my life to live again, I would do it all over and enjoy it just as much.

Major General David Butler, AO, DSO (from the 1990 edition)

The Korean War is all so long ago now that it is difficult to recall it, even more so to sort out the details sufficiently to compare one’s experience there with that of Vietnam. However, reading Robert O’Neill’s official history to refresh my flagging memory has proved a salutary experience. I became engrossed with his description of the difficult time we experienced in that long and bitter withdrawal in the first winter of the war. One sentence, dealing with events north of Pyongyang in early December, 1950 absolutely gripped me. ‘Shortly after midnight, communications were restored and Coad and Ferguson learned that the three companies of 3 RAR were the only force still east of the Taedong (River).’¹

Thirty-eight years after the event, the effect of that sentence on me was electric. I was seized with a feeling of dread so intense as to make me shiver. Such a reaction after all those years, and in the quiet of my own home, disconcerted me. The reaction was foreign to my nature and I had not been quite so worried at the time. At first I was inclined to write it off as a function of my age, as a trick of the memory. Then I realised that I had been reading very carefully, attempting to put myself into the mind of the commanding officer. It must have heightened my awareness of another dimension of the peril the unit had faced at that time. Whatever the reason, I gained a deeper understanding of the burden carried by Bruce Ferguson in the opening campaign. To have been commanding the only Australian unit in the theatre and facing likely catastrophe must have been almost overwhelming for him. Lou Brumfield’s command of 1 RAR in 1965 could not have been any easier.

The severity of the Chinese counterattack devastated the US Eighth Army in late November 1950. Fortunately, 27th British Commonwealth Brigade had been in reserve when the Chinese struck and thereafter was committed to a series of rearguards conducted in the most trying circumstances. It was cruelly cold and many of the allied units around us were absolutely demoralised.

On a bitter, icy 2 December, after the frustration of a false start earlier in the day, 3 RAR deployed to defend a bridge over the Taedong River at a village called Yopa-ri. We were to hold it for the withdrawal of US 7th Cavalry Regiment, reportedly badly knocked about, and the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders from our brigade, who had gone to help them.

A US air strike on Yopa-ri was in progress as we moved into position, which was hardly a good omen. The company in which I was serving, C Company, remained with Battalion Headquarters west of the river and watched harassing fire fall on the three forward companies throughout the afternoon. Conditions steadily deteriorated, the river froze over and communications were lost with neighbouring units and formations. Towards the end of the afternoon, air reconnaissance checking on the targets of those earlier strikes reported that there were several thousand Chinese in the valley in front of us and several thousand in the valley to our flank. All of them were only a few thousand metres away from us. The report chastened us all. I remember our US forward air controller agitatedly claiming it was no place for a fighter pilot as he got into his jeep and departed down the hill in a hurry.

During the clearing of the roadblock about five kilometres south of Pakchon on 5 November 1950, wounded members of 3 RAR were brought back from the scene of action and placed in shallow trenches to protect them from North Korean mortar fire. The vehicles await clearance to move through while a large group of refugees sit in the background (AWM photo no. 146963).

In the evening the harassing fire continued and it started to snow quite heavily. About midnight communications were re-established with the news that the 7th Cavalry and the Argylls had gone back on another route. The battalion was dangerously exposed.

When woken to go back for orders I discovered I was covered in about a foot of snow and my boots were frozen solid. They would not yield to my clumsy attempts to knead them so, in absolute frustration, I forced my feet into them by jumping up and down on them. My sergeant, Don Parsons, watched and never fails to remind me of it whenever he sees me. There was little else that was funny on that night.

We withdrew at 5.30 am and not a moment too soon. The path of Chinese footprints in the snow around all our positions showed in the moonlight. Nobody spoke on the way out.

We reassembled some distance back and commenced preparations for the complete break in contact that was to take us south of Pyongyang. The orders puzzled and dispirited us because it was all so different to Commonwealth doctrine. Most of the soldiers looked on the big break of contact as running away and did not like it at all. We had so far bested any enemy that had been put against us.

It was during those preparations that the commanding officer, for the first and only time I can recall, came round and spoke to each of the assembled companies. We were obviously in deep trouble. He put it all quietly to us, reminded us of the reputation Australian battalions enjoyed in previous wars and enjoined us to be sensible, despite all the ominous rumours around us. He told us there was a physical limit to the number of enemy that could be put against us, the whole of the Chinese army could not attack 3 RAR at once and that was all we had to think about.

We then embarked on what turned out to be a twelve-hour trip in the most awful conditions. We were not told where precisely we were going, simply that our advance parties would meet us down the road. C Company travelled on the top of American tracked artillery tractors and I could not imagine a colder or more uncomfortable ride. The column crawled along a road choked with refugees and demoralised ROK soldiers in such abject conditions as to defy description. There were babies lying frozen among the bodies alongside the road. As the war diary reported we found the move ‘most miserable and cruel . . . due to the intense cold and [it] will most likely be recalled as the Battalion’s bleakest day in Korea’.² It was nearly midnight when our adjutant, Bill Keys, appeared on the road calling for all Australians to get off the vehicles. We had arrived at Hayu-ri. It was hardly a staff college performance, but the battalion was intact, not a soldier was missing and it was the end of a pretty awful day.

To my mind what was most remarkable about all this was that the battalion that endured this trial had only assembled two months before. On 25 July 1950, when it was announced Australian troops would serve in Korea, 3 RAR’s strength was twenty officers and 530 other ranks. It would have to be brought to 39 officers and 971 other ranks for operations.³ The first reinforcements, a draft from 2 RAR, arrived on 30 August 1950, the vanguard of 21 officers and 440 other ranks who were to march in by 18 September. Four rifle company commanders, the Support Company commander and the RSM came in those drafts. The commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Green, arrived on 10 September, we sailed on 28 September and he died of wounds on 1 November.⁴

There had been time for two short battalion exercises before departure. The first, 13–16 September, was severely interrupted by torrential rain and flash floods. It was the first time a Support Company had been deployed in the army and was hardly auspicious. The Support Company elements detached to the rifle companies and the Battalion Headquarters (including the commanding officer) were not fed for the whole exercise. God knows what the commanding officer thought about his new command! It came as no surprise that Support Company had a new CQMS by the time they got back to barracks. The second exercise, 21–22 September, was devoted to company demonstrations and practice of the phases of war and Support Company weapon demonstrations.

The exercises were of the most elementary nature, just simple deployments. The brand new communications network could not have handled much more. Within the battalion only C Company remained intact. The other companies had come together, with men from the three battalions of the regiment and the specially enlisted K Force, in the last few days. We were still drawing stores and getting to know one another. By any standards, by AIF experience or Vietnam, 3 RAR should hardly have had a chance. Perhaps we were too busy to reflect on our circumstances, but there was no lack of confidence in the unit. I suspect that those of us who had not been to war rather took it that things always happened that way.

Mark you, I was later with 2 RAR at Puckapunyal when that battalion went to Korea and, even by 1952, the system was not a whole lot better. Whereas the companies had done a lot of training, there was only one battalion exercise, which was not much more advanced than the 3 RAR exercises in September 1950. By then, I was signal officer and I recall I could not get any signal cable, there was none in Australia. Eventually I tracked down, and was given, by the School of Signals, then at Balcombe, three miles of D3 twisted cable, which had been declared beyond local repair. We had to pick the cable up ourselves and then spent nearly a week repairing it sufficiently for it to be gingerly nursed through that exercise. The local brigadier’s boast that we were the finest trained battalion ever to leave Australia was widely reported.

Nonetheless it remains that 3 RAR in that first year of the war achieved the impossible. In hindsight I still cannot believe that the army had been allowed to decline to such a state by 1950. By comparison, the arrangements for the manning, training and despatch of 6 RAR to Vietnam in 1969 were superb, not only in their technical quality, but also in the spirit in which they were provided.

Just as 3 RAR in 1950 was a practical balance of Second World War experience and young regulars, 6 RAR in 1969 was a match of competent regulars, many with a tour in Malaysia and Vietnam under their belts, and well-trained national servicemen. The unit came to strength in a nicely regulated pattern, bearing in mind the balance of national service intakes three months apart was discontinuous. We had to plan for their departure/replacement at three-monthly intervals in the theatre. By 1969 the army was experienced in this pattern and we were allowed to corps-train two intakes of our own national servicemen. It was in everybody’s best interest for them to have as long an uninterrupted stay in the unit as possible.

The training cycle was excellent and quite testing, but it had to be adjusted for us. We were the first battalion to train and embark from the isolation of Townsville. The local headquarters was small and inexperienced so we had largely to write our own program and arrange our own embarkation. It was some comfort that the battalions that followed adopted the cycle we developed.

I would not want to make light of our time in Townsville. We had to overcome considerable difficulty in almost every area of battalion life, but that is a separate story. Sufficient to state the battalion succeeded and was absolutely self-reliant as a result of it. However, I would be remiss if I failed to make special mention of the sergeants’ mess and their contribution to all that we achieved. Largely intact from the first tour in Vietnam, ably lead by a superb RSM, Jim Cruickshank, they

The commanding officer of the newly arrived 6 RAR, Lieutenant Colonel David Butler, is welcomed by the commanding officer of the outgoing 4 RAR, Lieutenant Colonel Lee Greville, on HMAS Sydney, at Vung Tau in May 1969 (AWM photo no. BEL/69/331/ VN).

were a tower of strength in Townsville and absolutely without peer in operations in Vietnam.

After all that build-up I have finally come to the real point I wish to make in my story. Operation Lavarack, 6 RAR’s first operation in 1969, because of the unexpectedly heavy demands it imposed on the soldiers and on the whole framework of the battalion, was reminiscent to me of 3 RAR’s first experience in 1950.

In the manner of first operations it was intended to be a comfortable shakedown. Deployed into an area north of the task force base which had been quiet for some time, the battalion ran slap-bang into both the 33rd and the 274th NVA Regiments. The contacts were immediate and heavy. The largest enemy main force incursion into Phuoc Tuy province since Long Tan in 1966 was to prove a stern test for the new battalion. In a series of sustained actions though May and June 1969, involving over 100 separate contacts, 6 RAR/NZ (ANZAC) drove the enemy from the province.

The operation was unusual not only because of its intensity and the numbers of enemy involved but also because of the way it unfolded. Long Tan had convinced enemy commanders to never allow the Australians to fix them in place in daylight. Thereafter they operated in small groups to dissipate task force effort and evolved complex bunker systems that enhanced their protection against our formidable artillery and gave them enough depth to delay rapid deployment against them. It was rare therefore to find the enemy moving in strength and fortunate for us to be deployed astride their routes.

Within one week the five rifle companies had become heavily engaged. What we did not realise at the time was that one enemy objective was to attack the village of Binh Ba and that we were deployed on their approaches. Needless to say our actions severely interrupted the enemy deployment and forming up, and resulted in their attack being badly coordinated and late, so much so that the battalion of the 33rd Regiment was still in the village next day.⁵ Since all five companies of 6 RAR/NZ were in contact or facing imminent contact, D Company, 5 RAR was deployed, initially under command of 6 RAR, to carry out the brilliant attack with armour that is such a proud part of our regimental history.

Several days later the other battalion of the 33rd Regiment, after a heavy bunker action with B Company, 6 RAR/NZ, strongly supported by the 101st Field Battery, broke and fled north in daylight right across the front of a very aggressive V Company, 6 RAR/NZ and was again hammered. The enemies’ agony did not end there as captured documents revealed their commanding officer was severely censured for so dangerously exposing his battalion through this incompetence and lack of battlefield discipline.

There were so many actions of a similar nature during Lavarack it would be impossible to single out any as highlights without wronging those not mentioned. At the time, we recalled with wry amusement Brigadier Bill Weir telling us after our final exercise in Shoalwater Bay that no operation in Vietnam would match the tempo of that artificially contrived for the exercise. Lavarack began at a fierce pace and did not slacken until the enemy were driven out a month later.

There is no way the good brigadier could have foreseen that Rodney Chandler and his platoon would carry out the largest Australian ambush of the war against over 100 of the enemy. I have a clear recollection of a company commander reporting one night that his headquarters (then five strong, we operated extended area ambushes) was in the path of 100 approaching enemy. His terse transmission ended ‘Engaging, out’. Nor was wide prominence given in the battalion to his second-in-command, one of the five, who went well forward that night on his own on several occasions to replace expended claymore mines. The whole battalion gave and expected that sort of commitment.

The victory of Operation Lavarack was achieved, just as the challenge was met by 3 RAR in North Korea in 1950, by the unrelenting determination of every soldier to keep going. The demands made on each individual tested them to their limit and beyond. The companies were widely dispersed so there was a heavy daylight patrolling burden and every night was spent in ambush. The chance of contact was ever present so there was no respite for that long month. Lavarack was a memorable victory and a unique offensive success for the regiment previously so noted for its stubborn defences against overwhelming strength in places like Kapyong, Long Tan and Coral.

Private Montey Paul, attached to a 400-strong battalion of the 18th ARVN Division, moves cautiously down a jungle stream on Operation Quyet Thang in November 1969. The exercise was the culmination of six weeks’ intensive training by the ARVN battalion (AWM photo no. BEL/69/805/VN).

How different those Vietnam battles were to the essentially main force battles fought in Korea: classic attack, defence and withdrawal in the move to the Yalu and back; the orthodox divisional attack in Operation Commando in 1951 to secure the line held for the rest of the war. From then on it was static defence: intensive patrolling, occasional raids and sometimes limited attacks and counterattacks. All was supported by plenty of artillery.

Not unnaturally the regiment’s skills developed with the experience. The detailed planning and disciplines demanded by two years of intensive night patrolling in 1952–53 were extended by the precise and careful demands of the Malayan Emergency from 1955 on. The great virtue of patience was added to the regiment’s repertoire. The regiment was ready for Vietnam. The result of many years of almost unbroken contact with the Queen’s enemies was evident for all to see. It remains to this day.

I leave you with a thought that has intrigued me over the years. By my count, the regiment in that long stint of active service, 1950–72, filled 27 battalions. Although four members of the regiment had won Victoria Crosses while serving with the AATTV, no VC had been won by any of the battalions. The record shows battalions have endured more than their share of adversity in that time and, on many occasions, have faced overwhelming odds. Whereas it may well be some sort of commentary on the honours and awards system, it also has to be a measure of the quality of all those fine young men who have served in the regiment. On all those occasions of dire emergency, there has never been a shortage of men who would and could move on the battlefield or of leaders who were unhesitating and adept tacticians in battle. ‘Duty First’ is truly the measure of the regiment.

Lieutenant Colonel Barry Caligari and Brigadier John Caligari, DSC (for the 2008 edition)

Dad (Barry) and I (John) are able to offer an interesting and perhaps unique perspective of the Royal Australian Regiment in peacetime and on operations. In total we’ve served the Royal Australian Regiment for over 50 years and at family gatherings often discuss the constants and contrasts over that time. When Dad and I get together we laugh and shake our heads in disbelief or amazement at what has and has not changed in the regiment.

Dad enlisted as a soldier in June 1956 and ended his career in the army as commanding officer of the 1st Battalion in 1983. I graduated from the Royal Military College in December 1982 and marched into 1 RAR as OC 2 Platoon, A Company, 1 RAR, under Dad’s command—a regimental first. Our experiences in 1 RAR are the link between our two careers. We have both served over 27 years in the Australian Army, with over twenty years between us in battalions of the regiment.

Similarities and Differences

In many respects our careers have been similar but at the same time many of our experiences have been vastly different. We were both assault pioneers, did staff college overseas, served in the Office of the Chief of Army (or was that Chief of the General Staff!) as military assistants and both commanded the 1st Battalion— in fact we are led to believe we are the only father and son combination ever to command the same battalion of the regiment! However, the opportunities afforded the younger by the sacrifices and experiences of the older characterise the differences in our careers. Dad began life as a private soldier after spending some time in the civilian workforce, without even a school leaving certificate. He was commissioned after nine years and a six-week ‘knife and fork’ course, having made it to sergeant, and having served on two tours of active service. I had it ‘easy’ (my words)! I entered the regiment via the Royal Military College on a scholarship after completing my higher school certificate, graduated with a degree and was posted as a rifle platoon commander.

In that time, many things in the regiment have stayed the same and many have changed. Dad and I agree that mateship and camaraderie, that laconic Australian

Lieutenant Colonel John Caligari, commanding 1 RAR in East Timor from October 2000 to April 2001 (right), in discussion with Lieutenant Colonel Agung Rhisdhianto (left), commanding the TNI’s 131st Territorial Infantry Battalion, on 1 April 2001 at Batuguarde. The maintenance of good cross-border relations with their Indonesian counterparts was an important part of maintaining security on the border for the battalions serving there (photo: John Caligari).

humour, and a predisposition for getting the job done despite the distractions and the odds, are as evident today as they were in 1956, and no doubt on Anzac Cove for that matter. However, there are clear differences, especially in appearance. When Dad joined the army, soldiers of the regiment were dressed in starched and ironed khaki drills, spit polished leather and brass, equipped in 38 pattern webbing and armed with .303 rifles, Bren guns, Vickers heavy machine-guns and 2-inch and 3-inch mortars. When I commanded 1 RAR on operations in East Timor in 2000, soldiers were dressed in disruptive pattern camouflage uniforms, equipped in ergonomic fitting chest webbing and armed with 5.56 mm Steyr rifles, 5.56 mm light-support weapons, 7.62 mm MAG 58 machine-guns and 81 mm mortars.

Other differences revolve around our early experiences as officers. Leaving 3 RAR in Borneo as a sergeant, and accompanied by Don Parsons and Kevin Grayson, Dad returned to Australia to attend the Officer Qualifying Course at the Jungle Training Centre in Canungra in 1965. On graduation all three returned to Borneo as the oldest but most junior lieutenants in the regiment. Then after a briefing tour of Vietnam (visiting 1 RAR in fact) they went back to Terendak Camp in Malaysia to discover that commissioned rank was not all that it was cracked up to be. They soon found themselves having to conduct audits of the sergeants’ mess; and collect, count and break down 500,000 Malaysian dollars into pay packets for the battalion’s homecoming. In contrast, my arrival in the regiment from RMC was characterised by apprehension and excitement over how a 22-year-old would command three experienced section commanders and an ‘old’ sergeant.

Dad and I still spend hours trying to convince each other why things are better now, or why they were better then. In the end we agree its ‘different’ now, soldiers need to cope with different things, and some things had to change. In 1956 as a soldier, Dad didn’t own a car and the company car park was lucky to have three cars in it; now it’s full. In the lines at 3 RAR Dad lived in a room with three other soldiers. Now most soldiers have a room to themselves. We used to have ‘real’ battalion duties in the old days! Contractors do most of them now. Married quarters for soldiers were of very poor standard years ago, compared with today’s. In fact Dad didn’t even qualify for MQ until he had been married for seven years, been on two years of active service and had three kids! In 1981 Mum gave evidence on behalf of army wives to a Senate Committee on the poor standard of housing for soldiers. By 2000 the married quarters Mum and Dad called home when Dad was CO 1 RAR was a corporal’s married quarters. Housing had become so good and egalitarian that when I left Townsville, my own home in Annandale was rented by a private soldier. And of course the education standard is very much higher today. In the early 1960s George Mansford and Dad completed the Victorian leaving certificate together so that they would be eligible for a job with the public service, should the need arise. Today most soldiers have the HSC and many have degrees.

Our Common Approach

But the thing that both of us return to each time we get together, and the reason we both enjoy the army so much, is the people. In particular, the characters we’ve worked with. We agree that all Australian soldiers have different capacities but most importantly they all have their ‘heart in the right spot’. To understand this is to understand what courage, initiative and teamwork really mean.

We’ve both seen extensive service with other armies around the world on operations and in schools and from this two things stand out. First, the training we have received is world class and sets us apart from those armies more institutionally indoctrinated. And second, that the egalitarian ‘arrogance’ of the Australians of the First World War runs deep in all of us in the army and it stands us in good stead wherever we serve. And so for Dad and me, it is a deep respect for the qualities of the Australian soldier and the privilege we have both enjoyed in serving with and commanding them that dominates our discussions. Of course Dad spent nearly the first decade of his career as a soldier, but the strong appreciation and high regard for the Australian soldier, warts and all, is a strong sentiment we share.

Our affection for the Australian soldier is exemplified in our respect for the most senior of them and as a young man, I listened intently as Dad spoke with pride and satisfaction to Mum and his friends about his experiences in the regiment. As a soldier Dad would talk of the likes of RSM Joseph Bede O’Sullivan, MBE, a man who ‘never slept’ and always seemed to be on the spot when soldiers were not doing the right thing. On one occasion this particular RSM caught Dad, as a private soldier, with a meat pie in his hand as the national flag was being lowered and ordered him, from over 100 metres away, to ‘get rid of it’. So Dad stuck the pie and sauce into his pocket! Dad had stories of these RSMs from his early days as an officer too. He talked about RSM A.P. Thompson, MBE, who was given a serious troublemaker to manage, whose record read ‘like the memoirs of Darcy Dugan’. As adjutant, Dad couldn’t get any of the company commanders to take this problem soldier, so he gave him to the RSM, so that the RPs could ‘keep a close eye on him’! To Dad’s amazement, within a few months the RSM suggested he’d be prepared to ‘give the lad a stripe’. That soldier went on to become a very competent section commander in Vietnam! The message to me was that there was great satisfaction in working with a team where everyone is encouraged to achieve their best. The unambiguous impression I got from these and many other stories like it was that soldiers are the regiment and RSMs are their epitome. So much so that at RMC, the two biggest influences on my decision to go to Infantry were RMC RSM, ‘Lofty Eiby’, and my company drill sergeant, Brian Boughton. I later served with RSM-A Brian Boughton in the Office of the Chief of Army when I was the MA and it was like old home week for the year! As CO 1 RAR, I also had two of the finest RSMs a battalion commander could ever have wished for, especially on operations, with RSMs Steve Ward and Al Gillman. And although none of my doing, I am proud of the record of 1 RAR of the early 1980s which in 2000 turned out RSMs in 1, 2 and 6 RAR. To me this was strong evidence of a professional culture in 1RAR, as Dad’s legacy, and an inspiration and example for me as I arrived in the regiment.

The other thing about the regiment that we are both grateful for is the acceptance of mistakes or errors of judgement, providing of course they were made for the right reason. We’ve had each other rolling in laughter with our tales of ‘stuff-ups’. The one I remember best about Dad was as adjutant of 7 RAR, when COMAFV, Major General A.L. MacDonald (Dad always referred to him as A.L.), was visiting the CO, Lieutenant Colonel E.H. Smith, and A.L. casually asked E.H. how many of the battalion’s soldiers wore glasses. E.H. rang Dad to find out and he, thinking a quick answer was more appropriate than an accurate one, gave a rapid response based entirely on a ‘stab’ of how many wore glasses in BHQ multiplied by 20. A.L. was astounded at the prompt reply and E.H. insisted COMAFV inspect the filing system that could produce such a quick answer. The noise in the orderly room attracted Dad’s attention, and he was obliged to admit that he ‘had taken a punt’. A.L. left disgusted and E.H. felt foolish for ‘gilding the lily’. For my own experience, I committed the usual list of ‘errors of judgement’ as a young platoon commander, for which I was duly punished, including a stint of fourteen days straight as duty officer at the direction of the CO, Lieutenant Colonel Peter Cosgrove. In fact, it was while doing this stint that I met my wife at the Mater Hospital in Townsville while visiting a soldier there, so I am eternally grateful! Funnily enough we both ended up years later as military assistants (MA) to these particular men. Dad became A.L.’s MA when he was Vice Chief of the General Staff and I was Lieutenant General Cosgrove’s MA when he was Chief of Army. They must have forgiven or forgotten; either way we are grateful.

Active Service

Our combined experience of the regiment on active service since 1956 gives us plenty to discuss and plenty to learn, each from the other’s experiences. Our mutual respect for each other’s experiences on operations means there is little argument, but much discussion on tactics, techniques and procedures, a little on strategy and it always ends in admiration for result.

When in 1993 I found myself on operations in Somalia as the OPSO of 1 RAR, I quickly recognised the similarities to Dad’s descriptions of what 3 RAR got up to in Malaya in the 1950s. It didn’t take long for me and others to recognise the significance of the Templer Model for counterinsurgency operations; or to use Templer’s phrase, which has become doctrine today, ‘winning the hearts and minds’ of the people. Dad’s two years in Vietnam, with 7 RAR and AATTV, were also noteworthy as I deployed with 1 RAR to Somalia on the first battalion-sized operation since Vietnam. Of particular concern to the CO, Lieutenant Colonel David Hurley, and all of us in the 1 RAR Group in Somalia, was the high incidence of unauthorised discharges. Despite the battalion having been issued the Steyr not long before, the problem often exercised our minds more than did the enemy. But remembering Dad’s sage advice based on his Vietnam experience helped me put our problem in context. He had also given me good advice on the necessity for the passage of timely and accurate information. As he’d forewarned, the first reports in contact were highly inaccurate and confused. It was up to us in the battalion command post to distill the most important bits to make critical decisions—did we need to despatch APCs or an ambulance? Higher HQ got what they needed and we largely avoided the necessity to correct inaccurate information with them. The clarity of the battalion war diary has, as far as I am aware, not been questioned to this day. In the end, it’s a careful balance between ensuring the soldiers’ interests are protected and accurate information is received by higher HQ in a timely manner, as every incident becomes the subject of investigation and confirmation of the application of the rules of engagement. Dad recognises a big difference from his operations in Malaya and Borneo!

By far the high point of my career was command of the 1 RAR Battalion Group of 1100 soldiers on operations in East Timor. Like Somalia, Dad’s experience was very valuable to me through the tradition of stories told and advice. This time it was Dad’s experience in Confrontation in Borneo in the early 1960s, and his understanding of Indonesians (including speaking bahasa Indonesia and studying Asian Studies at ANU) that was of specific help. In particular, I felt well equipped to work with Lieutenant Colonel Agung Rhisdhianto, CO of the 131st Battalion, positioned across the border in West Timor, Indonesia. He and I became good friends and were on all occasions able to resolve issues directly without the UN observers, often to their disappointment. I was also very much aware that the enemy likely to cause us the most casualties was malaria and dengue fever. As a child I saw Dad suffer from bouts of malaria. I understood that, in those days, there was nothing that could cure him and that anti-malarials would not prevent dengue. In East Timor I waged war on these two afflictions. In short, I recognised that maximum effort on prevention was the best course of action. I increased the number of ‘blowflies’ (hygiene duty men); set strict requirements for wearing long sleeves and other personal precautions; and had accommodation, work areas and even nearby villages ‘fogged’ on a relentless schedule. The battalion group had no cases of malaria contracted in the AO and it demonstrated outstanding control and superb discipline by my officers and soldiers.

Command of 1 RAR

The most important of our common experiences in the regiment relate to the 1st Battalion. We both thought all our Christmases had come at once when in December 1982 we were serving together in the 1st Battalion. Although it was for only a short time, both of us understood the significance of this event in Australian military history. Little did we know that the biggest ‘Christmas’ of all would come seventeen years later when Dad handed over the CO’s Sword, a sword that belonged to Lieutenant Colonel Dobbin, CO 1st Battalion, First AIF, from the outgoing CO, Mark Bornholt, to me in front of the men of the ‘Big Blue One’ on the 1 RAR Parade Ground in Townsville.

The battalion was very different for each of us, but in so many respects it was the same. When Dad assumed command of the 1st Battalion at the end of 1980, the battalion was undermanned and the raising of the operational deployment force of the 3rd Brigade had just begun. Townsville was not a sought-after posting destination. By the end of 1999, 1 RAR was at full strength, the operational deployment force was demonstrating its capability on operations in East Timor, and Townsville was a highly sought posting. But the battalion area looked almost identical, except for the trees Dad planted which made the area decidedly more attractive than the battalion lines across the road. And I sat in the same office, with the photos of all the previous COs looking over my shoulder—although I had a computer! Everything looked and felt very familiar and very comfortable.

There are a few hallmarks of our approach to other aspects of soldiering. We are both strong proponents of the slouch hat, neither of us having worn anything else in our careers; and opponents of the stable belt and beret, particularly under the sun of north Queensland. In our time in 1 RAR we were very proud to wear the green puggaree. We’ve spent more time looking after that troublesome Septimus than we care to remember! Mum and Dad often took on the task of caring for him when the battalion was away, including when we were in Somalia. Both of us have a particularly soft spot for the 1 RAR band. Dad was involved in the early days with the amalgamation of the North Queensland Area Band and the 1 RAR band; and I was the first CO to take the band on operations since then. Throughout our history in 1 RAR, the 1 RAR band has been an important part of battalion life and the battalion’s presence in north Queensland. We both believe ‘Waltzing Matilda’ should never be tortured by pipes and drums (although we haven’t been allowed to ‘trumpet’ that too loud as Mum is Scottish born!).

The event that drew together all of these threads of our experiences in the regiment was the return of the battalion to Townsville from East Timor in 2001. The battalion arrived home for the mandatory welcome home parade through the streets of Townsville and a medal parade on Coral Day on the battalion parade ground. I invited the veterans of 1 RAR to march on parade to present the active service medal and infantry combat badges to individuals and sections. Where a special association or relationship existed, a special presentation was made. Dad presented my AASM clasp to me. This was a very special occasion for both of us. It represented in one ceremony, the similarities and dissimilarities in our lives and our careers, on familiar ground.

Conclusion

We are both proud to have had the opportunity, honour and privilege to contribute in our own ways to the highly professional and world-renowned Australian Army, the fighting heart of which is the Royal Australian Regiment—a worthy guardian of the Anzac tradition. Our family tradition of sacrifice for Australia is significant with family connections to every war in which Australia has participated since Federation. Between the two of us we account for all but the first ten years of the history of the Royal Australian Regiment. And the tradition looks set to continue. My nephew is at ADFA now and will soon move across the hill to RMC, and he is intent on joining the regiment. And my two sons look set to follow in their old man’s, and his old man’s, footsteps into the regiment, having commenced at ADFA, after having been sworn into the army by me as Commander 3rd Brigade, at Jezzine Barracks in Townsville in January 2007.

Major James Cruickshank, MBE (from the 1990 edition)

I commenced my service in the RAR with somewhat mixed feelings. I had served in the Royal Marines for more than four years and transferred to the Australian Army because my family had immigrated to Sydney. However, the vastness of my new country, relaxed lifestyle and innate friendliness of the people made me an instant convert to the Australian way of life. Posting to 1 RAR, at Ingleburn, New South Wales, was a slightly different kettle of fish and required some adjustment to my thinking. This was November 1950.

Training in Australia, 1950–52

At the time 1 RAR was grossly under strength. Commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Kelly, it was engaged in training K Force reinforcements for 3 RAR then serving in Korea. It was also, with the Puckapunyal-based 2 RAR, a source of reinforcements from within its own establishment. Remember that the battalion was really in its infancy and had only been back from BCOF, Japan some two years. The barracks were of Second World War vintage but had been remodelled to give four-soldier room accommodation. The shower, ablution and latrine blocks were comparatively primitive, partially open to the elements and with coke-fired boilers. The kitchens and mess halls were even more primitive. Meals were served in the open and consumed in unlined huts. I remember that mutton and pumpkin figured largely on the menu and that occasionally the meat was flyblown. One could always guess the day of the week by the menu; for instance, it was always roast pork on Sunday. Cooking and washing up depended on fire power, the washing up being done in 44 gallon drums cut in half lengthwise—in the open, of course. Kitchen duty was way down on the scale often. Splitting firewood and washing up in greasy water was soul destroying. Wiles cookers, Sawyer stoves etc. were then presumed to be state-of-the-art cooking equipment.

Of course, I was not the only soldier of UK origin in the army. The 1950s saw a large recruiting program in the UK to build up the embryo Australian Regular Army and, I suspect, to provide another source of manpower for service in Korea. It was a scheme that produced mixed results. It is certain that regimental checks with the War Office in the UK were not carried out as meticulously as perhaps they should have been done, because some low-quality soldiers made it to Australia. On the other hand, there was a great deal of experience there too and it is probable that the army gained a great deal more than it lost through discipline problems (AWOL etc.). In the 1960s and 1970s a number of RSMs and other WOs in RAR battalions were of UK origin.

Those early days of my service were with A Company, 1 RAR. It was commanded by Captain C.D. Kayler-Thomson, the CSM was Australian–Chinese WO2 Stanley Wing-Quay, the company second-in-command was Captain J. Waterton, ex-Royal Marines and later to win the MC with 3 RAR, Lieutenant ‘Jock’ McCormack was my platoon commander and my platoon sergeant was Bill Chick.

Uniforms were a source of some initial amusement. The army was changing over from the old service dress, circa 1914, to battledress. The emphasis was about to change to black so we all had to ‘raven oil’ our tan boots to produce the Boot, army black. These were worn with anklets, web. The khaki drill (KD) uniforms were in all sorts of patterns and if there was the need for jungle greens this was achieved by dyeing the KD. Often this resulted in a sort of murky blue shade.

We trained hard with Rifle SMLE .303, 9 mm Owen submachine gun, the EY rifle (rifle grenade), the PIAT (Projector, Infantry Anti-Tank), the 2-inch mortar and 36M grenade. There was great emphasis on route marching and bayonet training. I will never forget my amusement the first time I heard the contradictory order ‘For bayonet training—get dressed’. Formed up in three ranks at open order, this meant stripping to the waist and divesting oneself of equipment. Another unusual term then used was ‘Serafile’ instead of ‘Supernumerary rank’, serafile of course being a cavalry term, an obvious throwback to the Light Horse. Parade grounds were unsealed and training was largely done within the camp confines.

Social life in the camp was somewhat limited. There was a canteen conducted by the Army Canteens Service. Cigarettes and tobacco were rationed but we each had a ration card. Draught beer was available in the ‘bar’. This had a dirt floor and you took your own enamel mug. Occasionally dances were conducted at the Church of England Hut. At the Everyman’s Hut, Eddy Bentley supplied tea and violin support for hymns etc. Other than that one went farther afield to Liverpool or Sydney. On Sunday a cold beer could be obtained at the Good Intent at Campbelltown (mine host, Titus Oates, the Second World War air ace), as a bona fide traveller. Those were the days of the beer swill when the pubs closed at 6.00 pm or earlier if the beer ran out. There were always advantages to being a soldier in 1950. We enjoyed postal, telephone, telegram and public travel concessions. These have all been removed over the years, I suspect after pressure from envious public servants.

Life to some extent was varied. There was the occasional guard duty in Sydney at Victoria Barracks. This would be for a fortnight at a time. Off duty, the soldiers would make use of the adjacent hotel, then named the Greenwood Tree. Military tattoos were an annual event and we would perform at the Royal Easter Show, sometimes doing calisthenics or set-piece mock attacks etc. For guard duty, we were issued with a prewar vintage cape, against inclement weather. These were quite voluminous with an internal cross-strap arrangement and could be worn with the cape thrown back when not raining. This latter appearance gave rise to the nickname, ‘Mandrake’ cape, after the cartoon character. Disciplinary problems in those days were probably little different in essence to today, with two major exceptions. There were no drug problems (if one excludes alcohol) and very little stealing, or certainly never from one’s friends. It was safe to leave money, cigarettes and such in open view, with confidence. This also applied to the sanctity of one’s food and water supply on exercise. There was a strict ration of one water bottle per man per day and perceived stealing attracted fairly harsh physical retribution.

The early 1950s saw the army still on war service as no peace treaty had been signed with Japan. Charges levelled were under the Army Act (Whilst on War Service) and escorts were armed. There was less inclination to charge soldiers for minor offences. ‘Round the back’ was often the peremptory command from seasoned Second World War NCOs, for a little diligent laying on of the hands!

Married quarters, certainly at Ingleburn, were rudimentary. These were just converted army huts. They were without the ‘sophistication’ of the Swedish prefabricated buildings common from 1952 to 1987.

The vast grass areas around Ingleburn Military Camp were kept trim using horse-drawn grass-cutting machinery. These army horses (Clydesdales) were stabled at the nearby DID (Demand and Issue Depot) AASC. I remember once the operator left a team untethered but with the machine in gear. The team ran away, blades clicking furiously, soldiers scattering, and eventually came to a halt when the team straddled a tree. In the sudden stop the machine swung around and severely cut one horse. The animal was despatched by our regimental police sergeant, ‘Sandy’ Gray, using the unit pay representative’s .38 pistol.

In 1951 there was the threat of further trouble in the Hunter Valley coalfields (troops had been used to break a national strike in 1949) and we were readied for possible deployment. Truck drivers, carpenters, train drivers etc. in our midst were identified and the unskilled were identified for other duties. I was in a group sent to Army Training School (ATS) Ingleburn. There, over two weeks, we were trained as blacksmith’s strikers. My AAB–83 (Record of Service) always thereafter carried the entry ‘Qualified Blacksmith’. In the event, we were never used as the strikers went back to work.

Things looked up after we were warned for duty in Korea. This was in 1951. At the time our CO was Lieutenant Colonel I.B. Ferguson, DSO, who had commanded 3 RAR at Kapyong. He had changed places with Lieutenant Colonel Frank Hassett, previously our commander. We then had another change in command with Ferguson and Lieutenant Colonel Ian Hutchison, DSO, MC, changing places (1 RAR/ 13 NS Training Battalion). Hutchison had commanded 2/3rd Battalion during the Second World War and it was not long before he had attracted a number of his ex-colleagues into the battalion—officers and NCOs. The adjutant (Captain Eric Smith) and RSM (WO1 S.H. Smith) were two of those.

At this point I was moved to Support Company as a section commander in the MG Platoon with eventual promotion to sergeant. This platoon was commanded by Captain C.H.A. East, who had as his second-in-command Lieutenant Doug Yeats and Sergeant ‘Rusty’ Churches as platoon sergeant. East had served in 2/9th Battalion, Yeats with the British Army and Churches with 2/13th Battalion. They were the experienced machine-gunners. Most of us joining the platoon were ‘clean skins’ but we worked hard and became proficient. Our pre-embarkation ‘Shoalwater Bay’ type exercise was done at Green Hills—Darkes Forest.

Soon we were in the pre-embarkation phase. This included preparation for quitting the lines in which we lived. We rehearsed packing our gear for consignment by sea, packing our load-carrying equipment and stripping the barrack rooms. At least twice we placed all furniture, wardrobes etc in piles on the parade ground and then returned them. In one company Q store a number of surplus .303 rifles were found in the ceiling. Exquisite ‘Q’ accountancy!

The big day eventually arrived and off we went by bus to Sydney, on the way booing one sergeant who had elected to stay at home. We had taken umbrage because for some time he had trained his soldiers very hard, all the time telling them that he wanted ‘36 killers’ to go overseas with him. I remember us having a cut lunch at the old Crystal Palace site and then led by our band with teetotaller drum major Sergeant K.K. ‘Plonky’ Hunter in command, swinging through the city. The salute was taken on the Town Hall steps. At Circular Quay we had a little time with our families and friends before boarding HMT Devonshire and preparing for sea.

Leaving the quay we were confronted by the spectacle of left-wing waterfront unions exercising their democratic right by proclaiming us, on banners etc. as murderers, or something of that nature. Many of us wished we could have exercised our democratic rights in response, as we were shortly to do in Korea.

With the 1 RAR Machine-Gun Platoon in Korea

Transportation to Japan was per HMT Devonshire to Kure where we disembarked in November 1952. We were accommodated at Kaitaichi, midway between Kure and Hiroshima, in tents erected on the concrete foundation of old BCOF accommodation. Equipping and training took place over a couple of weeks. Each company had an indoctrination at the British Commonwealth Division Battle School, Haramura, commanded by an eccentric British lieutenant colonel by the name of Lonsdale.

Movement to Korea was by the Empire Longford to Pusan, then train to Tokchon, the divisional railhead. From there we were transported to the Kansas Line. The feature of our training I remember best was the week I spent with B Company, 3 RAR learning the routine. The platoon was commanded by a fiery Pole, Lieutenant George Zwolanski, and had a MG section located with the platoon. Here I went on my first patrol and also learned the intricacies of defensive fire (DF) and DFSOS (defensive fire save our souls) fire tasks. Our equipment was vastly superior to anything issued in Australia. Our MGs were British and these used MK VIII Z .303 ammunition which attained a range of over 4000 metres. British clothing for cold and wet weather was comprehensive, from string singlets to ‘long Johns’, waterproof trousers, flannel shirts, wind smocks, parkas, long gloves, boots CWW (cold weather, wet) and of course the ubiquitous balaclava. This latter item, in some individuals, concealed ‘choofer’ neck. ‘Choofers’ were the oil or petrol-fired small heaters we had in our bunkers. The soot was all pervading and some of the fellows if not watched, would only wash hands and face in the morning. When forced to divest themselves of the balaclava one was presented with a pale oval in an otherwise dark background.

During our time on the Kansas Line the commander of No. 4 Section (Ray ‘Gunner’ Stevenson) and I were sent over to the battle school at Haramura for a two-week MG/fire controller course. We had flown to Japan by RAAF C–47 but on the way back the OC 1 RHU (Reinforcement Holding Unit), Kure (Major Jack Gerke) decreed that Ray and I would be the escort to the food parcels (RSL, Age etc.) for 1 RAR and 3 RAR. We were placed aboard an old steam vessel at Kure and sailed via Shimonoseki (for coaling) to Pusan. Here we supervised the off-loading and loading into rail wagons and then were ordered into a wagon with ‘C’ rations, jerry cans of water and a crate of Asahi beer for the trip to Tokchon. This took four days as we had no priority and were occasionally shunted off to make way for troop/supply trains. At Taegu the beer ran out. A friendly US MP resupplied us by breaking open a US wagon and providing a carton of Budweiser. We safely delivered all parcels to unit transport and personally accompanied the 1 RAR share to B Echelon where the QM, Captain Henry McDermott, accused us (in jest, I’m sure) of having eaten our quota en route.

Aspects that remain in my memory are of exercising in the area of Kamaksan, where the Gloucester Regiment had made its stand in April 1951. Afterwards we section commanders joined the advance party of the battalion to relieve the 1st Leicesters in 29th Brigade at Wanjing-Myong, North Korea. It was an eye-opener to join them on Hill 217 (which was to be occupied by our B Company). There we were to have a two-MG section position under the command of platoon HQ. Bill McDonald (later 3 RAR and 8 RAR) had the other section and we were very pleased to see that while the British had inferior rations this was compensated for by having a company canteen right there in the line! In our few days there we were privileged to assist and observe the 1st Leicesters support the 1st Welch in an assault on Hill 227. We also had a taste of RCL fire as the receivers. The task of the 1st Leicesters was to support a tank assault on the features forward of Hill 210. Trenches had been prepared forward and to these we went with two sections of their MG platoon. The opposition took umbrage at the efficiency of the 1st Leicesters MG and engaged us with rocket launchers. Very disconcerting!

Our soldiers in Korea really did perform well. Constant patrolling, extremes of temperature (down to –15 degrees Fahrenheit), the terrain, heavy shelling and protracted periods on largely American ‘C’ rations were a strain. The temperatures were so extreme that soldiers of Aboriginal or Torres Strait Island descent were permitted to return to Japan for the winter. I’m not sure that many did. Certainly Corporal C. Mene, who was later in my section and a Torres Strait Islander (ex-2/33rd Battalion) did not. Keeping clean was another problem as all water had to be portered up to positions (bear in mind that the features referred to are in metric terms, for example Hill 210 metres). Winter was the great test. The fierce winds from Manchuria, snow, cumbersome clothing, and oil and water that froze, needed great dedication to combat. Oil, ‘low cold test’ was used on weapons and equipment, and glycol in radiators and water jackets of MG.

Keeping fit, too, was nigh impossible for some. MG sections were stationary whilst rifle sections were constantly on the move patrolling etc. Keeping active was difficult for us. For large parts of the time it was a case of 50 per cent stand-to from dusk until prior to first light. At night we usually had either a fixed program of targets to engage, or alternatively on an opportunity basis from targets previously recorded. By day it was time for clean-up and maintenance, posting of lookouts and rostered sleeping. Sometimes there would be the need to contribute to work parties or to conduct allotted duties such as minefield checks. Occasionally the opportunity to bathe arose. I can clearly remember walking half of my section down from Hill 355 in the winter to have a bath and change of clothing. The effort in scambling down and back again was agonising. It was a case of ‘lolly legs’ and much sweating.

Our platoon had the honour of first engaging the enemy. In fact, it was from our two-section position on Hill 217. The lookout had spotted a Chinaman on the forward slope of Hill 227. Rusty Churches took up position on one gun and Bill McDonald on another and with me correcting fire we engaged him. It was successful, I think; if not our target got a fright. From that same location we later supported A Company’s assault on Hill 227.

Australian troops advance across snow-covered fields. Cold weather was a constant trial for the regiment during three winters in Korea (AWM photo no. HOB 2146).

This was Operation Blaze. Led by Major D.S. Thomson and including such worthies as CSM ‘Matey’ McLachlan, DCM, Lieutenant Gil Lucas, Corporal Harry Patch, Corporal Charlie Mene, Corporal ‘Squizzy’ Taylor (later QM 4 RAR), they assaulted in copybook fashion, two platoons up. The Company Headquarters was led by Private ‘Jock’ Burgess blowing lustily on his bagpipes. Jock kept on playing during the fight on the hill. Elements of Suppport Company and HQ Company were also there, as were 4 Section, MG Platoon (Sergeant Ray ‘Gunner’ Stevenson) with flame-throwers, assault pioneers with beehive charges etc. a line-laying party from signals and of course stretcher-bearers. There were a number of decorations awarded for the day.

Also from this hill I saw my second plane shot down. The first time had been as a boy in Scotland when I saw a German reconnaissance plane pursued and shot down by a Spitfire. On this occasion a USAAF fighter was strafing with napalm and on his climb away from the target was hit by concentrated ground fire. I’ll never forget the explosion and then the debris falling like tinfoil, turning and reflecting in the sun.

At a later time we relieved the KOSB at Naechon, North Korea, having in turn been relieved by the 1st Black Watch on Hill 217. We were now serving with 28th Brigade. We had had one day in bivouac in between and this gave the RSM time to get his senior NCOs together. Bill McDonald and I were two of the new sergeants and had our indoctrination to the mess in a squad tent. The KOSB position was really substandard, certainly from a MG point of view. Initially our guns were positioned in open trenches, rather than the sophisticated gun pits we were trained to construct. One burst of shellfire buried one of my guns and severely damaged the tripod. In fact, the living bunkers were not well constructed and in monsoonal conditions over 100 collapsed in the battalion with one soldier losing his life.

It was therefore decided to prepare new positions for two MG sections behind the forward companies but in front of the reserve, again under command of platoon HQ. This was done each night after dark for a couple of weeks. We (2 and 3 Sections) drove some distance in blacked-out jeeps, worked for most of the night, camouflaged the workings and then returned to our operational position. The big night arrived when all work was complete. We made a studied occupation by night and the following morning were welcomed by an artillery bombardment. We hadn’t fooled ‘Charlie’ after all.

In fact, in that position we had our fair share of enemy shellfire. Also, ironically, we were actually behind our 3-inch mortar platoon position. The reason was that their range was 2700 metres while ours was 4500 maximum. In this location we

Machine-gunners Private C.J. Cornell (left) and Corporal P.B. McGrellis of 3 RAR clean their Vickers machine-gun in preparation for a busy night giving fire support to patrols from the battalion (AWM photo no. HOBJ 3290).

mounted a one-man patrol! One night a noise was reported forward of our position. Captain East sent for me and giving me his .38 Smith & Wesson revolver sent me forward to investigate. There had been some instances of infiltration from the enemy. It was a long period in pitch black conditions before I eventually completed crawling forward to the reserve company listening post. After some mutual surprise we opined that it must have been an animal.

The track from the feature back to the reserve company was in enemy view and sometimes he would engage soldiers in transit with artillery fire. We sometimes had a fresh meal forward of the position on the mortar base plate position. ‘Charlie’ watched this for a time then one day caught a group of us in the open. Some got under cover. Bill McDonald and I were in the middle of the paddy but found ‘shelter’ under blades of grass. It’s amazing how comparatively safe one can be in the prone position!

Discipline was never really a problem as each person knew how much each depended on the other. Of course trench life had its pressures and minor infractions had to be dealt with immediately. There was no time for the niceties of orderly room procedure. A recourse to the threat with whatever was handy, shovel or spare Vickers barrel, was sufficient to get the message across. In D Company there was one incident where a large Scotsman pursued his section commander with a Bren gun, firing from the hip. The corporal went hurtling through the trenches and, knowing he was in considerable peril, snatched a 36M grenade from the ready-use box and threw it behind him. The Scotsman was stopped. After hospitalisation in Australia he was deported. The corporal was court-martialled and gaoled. To this day I consider that a miscarriage of justice.

Our creature comforts were reasonably well catered for. Cigarettes were free. There were UK-issued Woodbines etc. supplied by Lord Nuffield, and of course there were Camel and Lucky Strike, which came with US ‘C’ rations. we received the RSL or Melbourne Age food parcels I previously mentioned. When possible a beer ration came forward. This was Japanese Asahi, Kirin or Nippon bottled beer. It came in wooden cases, each bottle wrapped in straw. I think we paid a shilling a bottle and in winter one had to thaw the bottle on a stove! When not obtainable we blamed (possibly not always inaccurately) the ‘Q’ staff for using it for barter with the Americans. In winter a rum ration was issued. Officers and WO/SNCOs were permitted to purchase one bottle of spirits per month.

I have mentioned artillery sniping on open tracks. One feature in Korea was the use of extensive camouflage near the front. Cuttings and other exposed parts of roads had huge camouflage nets erected to conceal truck movement from enemy view. Naturally it did not stop shell and other fire but tended to reduce the incidence.

I do not recollect that there was any censorship in Korea although there was a strict search of soldiers going on patrol to ensure they weren’t carrying letters, diaries marked maps and such. This was all part of a comprehensive rehearsal for each patrol. For corresponding with relatives there were message cards available where one deleted lines not required. Ideal for the busy soldier, to reduce a message to something like ‘I am well, thinking of you—love etc.’!

The MG platoon was the source of the raw material for many of the beds in the battalion. The Vickers used 250-round stripless heavy cotton belts and these were used in conjunction with steel pickets to construct double bunks in bunkers. These bunkers were home for protracted periods and had to be kept very tidy to avoid disease etc. We had a rat problem and occasionally one would hear illegal gunshots as some individual, driven to desperation used his Owen or pistol to despatch some ugly rodent. One night ‘Rusty’ Churches awoke from what he though was a pleasurable dream to find a rat licking his (Rusty’s) lips! He had eaten a juicy Canadian apple just before going to sleep.

It was after this period in the line we had the opportunity to regroup and enjoy some sergeants’ mess activity in reserve at Yong Dang, North Korea. They were a great group of SNCOs, many of them either ex-2nd AIF or British Army of Second World War vintage. Some names that are perhaps familiar are RSM Wally Smith (now Hunt-Smith), Paddy Brennan, Frank Deane, Des Corcoran (later Premier of South Australia), Sam Beam, Ernie Giffen and Stan Nietschke. It was a great time to tell lies and enjoy Asahi beer.

Soon the 1st Battalion, the Royal Canadian Regiment (1 RCR) were in trouble at Hill 355 (Kowang-San), the ‘Divisional Vital Ground’. Their forward company was overrun. Initially we had word that we would have to counterattack but 1 RCR handled it themselves and we relieved them in due course. It took the battalion a deal of time to wrest back control of the valley floor by aggressive patrolling and use of fire. We played our part in the scheme of things and sometimes assisted greatly in restoring the balance.

Three incidents I remember vividly were Operation Fauna, the Burns–Boyd patrol clash and a South Korean battalion-strength fighting patrol. Fauna was a company-strength deep penetration fighting patrol, onto feature ‘Flora’, led by Major A.S. ‘Joe’ Mann, B Company. They had assault support at the rapid rate, once the company was committed; prior to that we engaged in our normal harassing fire program. We used vast quantities of ammunition that night because we had a huge surplus left behind by 1 RCR. They had given their Vickers a holiday on site and used .5 HMG. We changed barrels at least once on each gun. Anyway at one point a Chinese HMG engaged B Company and we could see the tracers. Our CO, Lieutenant Colonel M. ‘Bunny’ Austin (he had relieved Hutchison at the halfway point) spoke to me by land line and asked me to try to neutralise it. At extreme range and unrecorded, I made a guess using hand angles against the silhouetted skyline and adjusted fire at the rapid rate. The HMG desisted but I will never know whether we were successful or he ran out of ammunition.

We in turn were receiving attention from the opposition as they tried to reach us with artillery. Fortunately they did not have our range although the gun crews (Roy Anderson, Bob Gow, Peter Roberts and Merv Kimler) complained of shrapnel entering the gun pits. The pits had cavernous openings designed for .5 calibre Browning HMG. We had not been able to adapt them satisfactorily.

The patrol clash occurred one night when Lieutenant John Burns’s fighting patrol (C Company) was required to pass through Lieutenant Euan Boyd’s lay-up patrol (D Company). There was an unfortunate mistake made in the dark and fire was exchanged, resulting in casualties. Obviously the operation had to be abandoned, particularly as the Chinese came forward to investigate. The patrols came away carrying their casualties and being harassed. My section was the only one which could give support and this I did by extending our beaten zones and dropping the range progressively as the patrols withdrew. It was successful, as evidenced next morning when one of the C Company soldiers said to me ‘We love you, you Scots bastard.’

Finally, on our right flank was the South Korean 1st Capitol Division. One night they sent forward a battalion-strength fighting patrol onto the foothills of Hill 377. They arrived to find it well occupied and a huge firefight, hand to hand, ensued. Again Lieutenant Colonel Austin phoned me. This time it was a registered target and away we went at the rapid rate. From the noise that we heard we were having obvious success but I guess some of the victims would have been South Korean.

In our company we had substantial representation from other corps. Because of general shortages of personnel the Assault Pioneer Platoon comprised largely seconded RAE soldiers and the Anti-tank Platoon seconded RAA soldiers. The Anti-tank Platoon had a couple of interesting roles. Their 17-pounder anti-tank guns were only occasionally used as a flat trajectory weapon against bunkers. The platoon provided artificial moonlight, employing searchlights and by bouncing the beam off low cloud created light on the valley floor. Mainly they operated as an overstrength rifle platoon, occupying vital ground. They lost their platoon sergeant (Tom Newman) to an airburst one sad day.

It was after Hill 355 that I left the battalion. This I did with some reluctance. They were a great bunch and it was like leaving home. I remember how hard many of them worked at all levels. Back at B Echelon for instance were the RQMS Stan Nietchske and the sergeant tailor (both ex-2nd AIF), who among other things were responsible for preparing the fatal casualties for evacuation to the rear, and the stretcher-bearers who really had to do just that over rough terrain to the nearest jeep ambulance. It was in Korea that I saw my first helicopter casualty evacuation. These were Sioux with pannier fittings on the side. Sergeant Smith of A Company, on his second tour of duty in Korea, was badly wounded on Operation Blaze, evacuated by Sioux, but died en route to hospital. Our field ambulance was Indian Army and our supporting military advanced surgical hospital was Norwegian (NORMASH).

I had been recommended for commissioned rank by the battalion, a process started by Captain East. After interviews with the Commander 28th Brigade, Brigadier T.J. Daly, and the Commander of BCFK Advanced 2nd Echelon, Brigadier I. Campbell, in Japan, I went home to the School of Infantry and the School of Tactics and Administration, Seymour to attend an officers’ qualifying course (OQC). I completed the course but it was found that my Scottish temperament was against me. I was asked to repeat, an offer I never took up.

Soldiering during the 1950s and 1960s

On rejoining the battalion at Enoggera I found myself one the few SNCOs remaining with the unit. Indeed, Lieutenant Colonel Austin appointed me President of the Mess Committee (PMC) of the sergeants’ mess because I was one of the few remaining who was aware of an unresolved business matter outstanding with the sergeants’ mess of the new 4 RAR, and I was PMC for nine months despite us having new WOs posted to the battalion. I was now platoon sergeant of the MG platoon. In this re-forming period three important things happened: the Royal Tour in 1953, my qualifying for warrant rank that year and getting engaged to be married. I had the privilege to command a section of the battalion lining the streets for Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip. I remember the position well. It was outside the Grand Central Hotel, Queen Street and some of my off-duty colleagues (Sergeant ‘Evil Eyes’ Eveleigh, MM, was one) were trying to press pots of beer on me.

I had earlier mentioned our being warned for a strike-breaking role in 1951. We again were alerted for this role in 1953. A severe strike had occurred at Bowen in north Queensland paralysing the wharves and disrupting the overseas meat trade. So 1 RAR was sent north, took control of the wharves and, working long shifts, cleared the backlog. This without any acrimony on the part of the displaced workers.

In our re-forming phase the battalion took the opportunity of conducting NCO courses (or cadres as they were termed). It was pretty much the norm for units to conduct courses for up to WO2 rank. Only subject ‘C’ for rank (administration and military law) was conducted as an external examination by AHQ. This occurred across the country on a set day and time. I took the opportunity of qualifying for WO2 at this point. I had not had to qualify for sergeant, being deemed exempt due to war service. I do not suggest a return to those days as standards were not necessarily high. In my own case, I feel my previous service and qualification from long courses in that service set the seal for my future. Then too my unsuccessful OQC had been a good learning experience. This latter had convinced me that I was best suited to regimental life and I had volunteered to return to Korea with 1 RAR.

Marriage early in 1954 did not change that situation and so in March 1954 we sailed in the New Australia for Pusan in South Korea. The armistice was then operating and we relieved 2 RAR at ‘Peace Camp’ not far from where we had been on the first tour of duty at the Kansas Line. Our CO was Lieutenant Colonel N.A.M. Nicholls, and our platoon commander was Captain J.T.D. Stewart, an Australian who had been awarded the MC while commanding a company of Gurkhas in Malaya. This second year of service in the theatre did not give us the same sense of purpose as hitherto. One could say the adrenalin did not flow. There was much hard work in two areas: preparing new defensive positions near the Imjin River and patrolling forward along the DMZ.

We also constructed a new hutted camp (Quonset huts) on the south bank of the Imjin and called it ‘Gallipoli Camp’. For this phase I was acting CSM Support Company advance party. Construction took some weeks. Major exercises and live firing on the field-firing range (Fort George) on our front and near Kapyong on the central front were changes in pace. For an extended period I was platoon commander as Stewart was detached as liaison officer at Brigade Headquarters. This of course meant being at Battalion HQ when we deployed.

Late in 1953 the government ordered 3 RAR out of theatre, without relief. They had been in-country on an individual rotation basis since 1950. There was an exchange of personnel between battalions and 1 RAR then became the sole Australian infantry presence in the 28th Brigade, again on an individual rotation basis. One of the duties brigade units took in turn was providing the guard at the divisional railhead at Tokchon and we had our fair share of this duty. On one occasion RSM Peter English’s batman was one of the members of the guard. Private Williams was not a noted rifle shot. On duty one day in failing light he apprehended three Koreans pilfering a rail wagon. When challenged they fled and refusing Williams’s order to stop he engaged them, shooting dead all three at intermediate ranges up to 200 metres—this with the .303 SMLE rifle, twelve-inch bayonet fixed! Private Williams was repatriated to avoid embarrassment. On my tour of duty as guard sergeant we too apprehended a Korean. The British commander’s response was ‘lock him up, Sergeant’—an impossible task on two counts; there was no lock-up and we only had soldiers enough for posts. In the event I guarded him myself with a loaded Smith & Wesson all night and next day the Korean MPs took him away and, I understand, despatched him.

Hygiene was not a problem on this tour as had been the case in 1952–53. We had our own company showers and were accommodated in reasonably comfortable Quonset huts. Occasionally we had recourse to the divisional bath unit where one went in one end, divested oneself of clothes, showered and was issued with fresh items at the other end. This had also been an infrequent feature on the first tour.

My last duty in the battalion was as Wing SM of the unit NCO course. Some personalities from those days were WO2 Joe O’Sullivan, later RSM, 3 RAR and ‘Ossie’ Ostara, Danny Neville and Ken Stoker, all of whom were later to be awarded the DCM with AATTV. Australia’s first casualty in South Vietnam, Bill Hacking, was also a member of the mess. I left 1 RAR in February 1955 and came home via Japan. I was not to serve with the RAR again until 1959 although I was one of the umpires with 2 RAR on Exercise Grand Slam earlier that year. Much of the intervening period was as platoon commander 11 Platoon, D Company, PIR. I had been promoted to WO2 with seniority from 1954.

My service with 3 RAR commenced in September 1959 and lasted until December 1962. For the majority of this period I was CSM, B Company. Our CQMS was my old friend Bill McDonald from 1 RAR days. The battalion had just returned from service in FARELF Malaya and having had leave was reorganising. For some time I was very much the continuity man as we had a succession of company commanders. There was even a short period when OC, C Company (Major Bill Harrington) also commanded B Company. Training in conventional warfare was a surprise to those who had devoted recent years to CT work. Then, too, there was the total reorganisation of the army to the pentropic division establishment. Five rifle companies per battalion with each having a weapon platoon as its fifth platoon and including attached personnel brought a company strength to over 200. Seeing a pentropic battalion on parade in line was a sight to behold.

From the standpoint of control these units were unwieldy and as they used minimal unit transport often were on the razor edge in matters of logistics. Happily, the organisation did not survive the 1960s. Perhaps Vietnam was our saviour in this regard. On a lighter note one thing that stands out in my mind was our frequent change in gaiter colour scheme. Boots, army black, were worn with gaiters. These were leather bound, treated canvas and in most battalions were subjected to unit idiosyncratic change. In 3 RAR first they were scrubbed to give a bleached appearance then later treated with khaki ‘blanco’ powder and floor wax mixed, then later again treated with black boot polish. The blanco and boot polish treatment also applied to field webbing and rifle slings and was the subject of caustic comment by our much maligned soldiers.

Major exercises were a way of proving otherwise the efficiency of the ‘new’ army and accordingly we deployed in successive years in the Putty area of New South Wales on Exercises Icebreaker and Nutcracker. Our notional means of transport was by air and this we practised on the ground. In fact, we went by road, in the first instance to the concentration area of Holsworthy, New South Wales, and for Nutcracker.

Vietnam

In 1964 I left 3 RAR for PIR and served there for four years, latterly as RSM, 2 PIR, and in 1967 I assumed duty as RSM, 6 RAR. This was the most satisfying period of my service as it enabled me to use my experience to the optimum. I had been posted from RSM, 2 PIR on to the unallotted list Northern Command in March 1967, and then detached for duty as training officer, 6 RAR (Australian Component). The battalion was in South Vietnam. So began a long association with the unit. I was posted as RSM in succession to George Chinn, DCM, on the battalion’s arrival back in Australia. While I would not suggest any difficulty ensued, I make the observation that taking over in a unit just returned from active service requires just a little tact, particularly when the previous incumbent has enjoyed considerable popularity. The reposting of key personnel and the trauma of re-forming does not always allow for a smooth transition.

Happily the CO (Lieutenant Colonel Colin Townsend, DSO) and a number of officers, WOs and NCOs were remaining with the battalion and this in some way compensated for the next upheaval: the battalion’s relocation to Lavarack Barracks, Townsville. The first few months were reasonably relaxed and happy as the CO allowed a peacetime routine to develop with time given to soldiers to resume a normal family life. The barracks were brand new as was the married quarters complex, mainly situated at Vincent and Heatley, Townsville suburbs. It was a time too to introduce new sergeants to mess routine and to reindoctrinate some of the older hands; a fairly painless and pleasant experience in the main. Those who had difficulty in coming to grips with their new status were introduced to a program of ‘voluntary extra training’ in which most agreed that extra hours as orderly sergeant was a beneficial experience.

In 1968 there was a change in COs with Lieutenant Colonel David Butler arriving and Lieutenant Colonel Townsend transferring to RMC, Duntroon. It was at this point the tempo changed. Before Christmas 1967 the gentle easing of the companies into peacetime administration, sport, recreation and mess life had been relatively trouble free. Warned for active service the new CO had to build up the unit strength, enhance esprit de corps and make all physically fit for the time ahead. Of course a significant number of soldiers were national servicemen. The CO had the courtesy to recognise that I was not without experience and used that experience. My opinion was often sought in matters within my competence. One instance of this was when I was entrusted with writing the battalion’s anti-malaria precaution instruction. I would like to think that this trust is a common factor although I suspect not. I have observed a tendency to treat senior WOs as just very senior soldiers who happen to have years behind them. There is sometimes a reluctance to recognise the man for what he is, the repository of considerable experience and military knowledge.

At Lavarack Barracks we turned the screws a bit. Discipline was rigidly enforced, particularly when we started to have a problem with AWOL. This was not a matter of soldiers sneaking an extra hour or two but a case of young men from big cities, homesick in north Queensland heading off home. The problem diminished when the CO exercised his full powers of punishment for even minor infractions in this regard. Sport and sporting teams developed esprit de corps in 6 RAR to an art form. The CO demanded maximum involvement all round and soon we had a team of sportsmen without peer in the north. Our national servicemen from all walks of life were a reservoir of talent, and our rugby union side were premiers in the local competition.

With our morale high we got on with the serious business of training. Courses were conducted to train junior NCOs while others went off to train in advanced courses as mortarmen, assault pioneers, intelligence dutymen, interpreters etc. The need to train at sub-unit and unit level required a training area in close proximity and I was given the task of reconnoitring High Range near Townsville. With CSM, B Company (WO2 Keith Davidson), CSM, Support Company (WO2 Roy Godfrey) and the RP Sergeant (Andy Watson), one day we headed off up a very narrow track, repairing as we went, up the escarpment and on to the plateau. Subsequent reconnoitring by others and some little preparatory work soon saw the battalion using the area, and places like the Poison Waterhole became very familiar to us.

It was not all preparation for war though. We took time off for the presentation of colours by the Governor-General, Lord Casey, in May 1968, and in August of that year the presentation of the US Presidential Unit Citation by the Prime Minister, John Gorton. I remember the CO asking how much training time I needed for this latter ceremonial and when I responded ‘three weeks’ was informed that my quota was five days. I must say that the battalion responded very well on both occasions and coped very well with long hours of rehearsal in hot conditions. Even the officers (in the main) did not object to being corrected in their drill. The CO had enforced the old British tradition of subalterns calling the RSM ‘Mr’. I would sometimes invite subalterns with untidy hair to meet me at the barber and receive in response ‘Yes, Mr Cruickshank’!

Townsville was very much an RAAF town when we arrived but it was not long before we were accepted both by the townspeople and the RAAF. The battalion also developed very strong ties with local business and the RSL. The day came to march through the city prior to going to South Vietnam. Units had not always been well received in places like Sydney and Melbourne and there was a noisy anti-Vietnam movement developing, particularly among university students. We were warned that James Cook University students would be out in force. I briefed the NCOs in the Colour Party of action to be taken in case we were attacked and away we went marching down Flinders Street. There at David Jones’ corner as promised were the students en masse but to my considerable relief they were bearing a huge banner which read ‘6 RAR—we’re with you all the way’.

In South Vietnam the battalion returned to the same lines in Nui Dat it had occupied in 1966–67, this time relieving 4 RAR/NZ (ANZAC) Battalion. We in turn became 6 RAR/NZ (ANZAC) Battalion. It took no time to shake out into the daily routine, much of it previously rehearsed at home in Australia on minor and major exercises. Companies had combined officers’ and sergeants’ messes in company locations, not that we used them often as most time was spent on operations. When we were in base, however, I insisted on frequent visits from companies to the mess proper—to keep in touch.

Initially, my duties as RSM on operations included responsibility for a sector in the HQ area of the FSPBs we occupied. I also stood duty as CP duty officer.

The battalion second-in-command, Major Neville Wallace (RNZIR), was responsible for the defence of FSPB. This situation soon changed when Colonel Butler was wounded in our second operation and evacuated to Vung Tau. Wallace became acting CO and defence of the FSPB became my responsibility. This responsibility continued even after the CO returned to us and in addition saw me tasking local patrols out of the FSPB. We had some success here too. Regimental Police Corporal Lou Stevens conducted a successful ambush and the intelligence sergeant, R.W. ‘Spike’ Jones, MM, led a hasty assault against a suspected VC position. Spike had been awarded the MM on the battalion’s first tour of duty. We had to go to ground as the assault was back in the direction of the FSPB and we could anticipate rounds in the area.

It would be fair to say that the battalion had spectacular success in its second tour. This was in my opinion due to two factors: the number of seasoned WOs and NCOs, many of them on their second tour of duty, and the preparation at Townsville, enhanced by high quality national servicemen. The NZ companies integrated reasonably well, with the exception of disciplinary control. We had the ludicrous situation where the CO could make decisions affecting the lives of New Zealanders but could not discipline them. That duty fell to the second-in-command. On one occasion two NZ soldiers refused to go on patrol from the FSPB. Colonel Butler ordered them out of the AO and gave instruction they were to be repatriated. They were flown to Terendak in Malaysia. For the purpose of orderly rooms I placed any NZ miscreants before Major Wallace.

Traditionally an RSM on operations has, among other things, responsibility for ammunition and the guarding and moving of PW to the rear. In South Vietnam this was largely negated by us having constant air support from Nui Dat. On two occasions, however, I had the chance of exercising myself. W Company ran into a defended position west of FSPB Diggers Rest in Bien Hoa province. Towards the close of business for the day they had run perilously short of ammunition. Together with CSM, Support Company (Godfrey), the RP sergeant (Watson) and stretcher-bearer sergeant (Douglas), I went by Iroquois and delivered the goods just on last light. Later whilst forward visiting V Company in the Nui May Taos, one of their platoons had a contact and the OC (Major Lynch) asked me to accompany a group up the hill and bring back the PW. In the event they were mainly civilian workers from the VC hospital complex but recover them we did.

In Diggers Rest we had the occasion to experience close air support. The night before W Company’s close encounter, VC were sighted near the base and were engaged by our DS battery and by air. There was an apparent return of fire and consequently we had fighter-bomber support throughout the night, mixed with converted C–47 squirting mini-gun fire. The clearing patrols in the morning found only flattened greenery—W Company found the opposing unit later that day.

Left to right: the RSM of 6 RAR, WO1 Jim Cruickshank, the Pipe Major of 6 RAR, WO1 Alex MacLeod-Lee, Command Sergeant Major William G. Bainbridge, US Army, and 1 ATF Sergeant Major, WO1 Sid Penhaligon at Fire Support Base Peggy during the visit of General R.E. Haines, Commander-in-Chief US Army in the Pacific, in February 1970 (AWM photo no. FAI/70/92/VN).

It would be remiss of me not to mention some of the names of senior NCOs and WOs. We had the interesting situation of having four WO1s in the battalion. In those days one’s seniority and promotion prospects were not impeded because the man was serving overseas. We thus had an RQMS (WO1 George Londos), an RD (Regimental Duties) WO (WO1 Keith Davidson) and the Pipe Major (WO1 Alex McLeod-Lee). There was never any embarrassment to me. I was ‘Sir’ and they went about their business in a thoroughly competent fashion. Keith Davidson remained at Nui Dat and ran the routine of the base. George Londos in addition to his normal duties ran the unit TAB most efficiently. Profit went to regimental funds and we had no shysters conducting SP betting in the unit. Alex McLeod-Lee ran the pipes and drums when they were in base and composed music. We also had a WO2 supernumerary by rank (Les Turner), one of our noted rugby union footballers. He often commanded a composite platoon in the FSPB.

Then we had Sergeant Stan Wilczek, effectively regimental signals officer (RSO) for the tour, Sergeant Allan McLean, assault pioneers, very often platoon commander, and under whose command, on one operation, the platoon had the highest kill ratio in the battalion. Sergeant Robin Sheppard (later killed in a tragic road accident in Melbourne) often commanded his platoon in D Company. Another fine example of a sergeant was Neil Rankin who had been a sergeant at the battle of Long Tan. One day Neil carried out a successful immediate ambush and was shortly being questioned on air regarding identification of the victims (main force or VC). Quite obviously busy in post ambush administration Neil testily responded to the question ‘what footwear were they wearing?’ with the answer ‘I’ll let you know when I find their feet’!

Then there were those whose discharge of duty was exemplary; Corporal ‘Shorty’ Brown, MM (now an Anglican padre) Corporal Hans Fleer, DCM (now a major), Corporal Ashton, DCM, Sergeant Tom Tuhiwai, DCM (now an Anglican padre in Melbourne to the Maori community), Lance Corporal R. Fitzpatrick, MM (recently retired as a WO2) and our ubiquitous tailor, Sergeant George Burnett, BEM. In the battalion ‘Q’ Store was Corporal Ray ‘Perky’ Evans, who had served with me in Korea 1952–53 and Captain Paddy Young, who had been one of our junior NCOs in 1 RAR Korea 1954–55. In total they and all the unnamed NCOs and soldiers constituted a great fighting unit, which prompted our Task Force Commander, Brigadier S.P. Weir, MC (my company commander in Korea 1952–53) to tell us that we were the best infantry unit to have served in the theatre.

I also remember Sergeant Gerry Newbery, 3 Platoon, A Company, who was very badly wounded in a mine incident and when I visited him at the hospital at Vung Tau apologised for ‘having let me down’. Sergeant Neil Lindsay, B Company was badly wounded and evacuated to Australia and subsequently wrote to me asking for his job back, something which the battalion very quickly arranged. Nor can I forget 3 Platoon, A Company, which suffered horrendous casualties but battled on mightily for the remainder of the tour. CSM Jim Myles was wounded on the battalion’s second operation but skilfully concealed those wounds; this did not become evident until he was badly wounded at the end of the last operation of the tour.

In the closing weeks of our tour I was selected to be commissioned onto the QM list. I was posted for a few months as adjutant in minor units and then to my delight reposted back to 6 RAR as QM. This was 1971 and the battalion was at Selerang Barracks, Singapore. A very satisfying two and a half years ensued. I was happy to have on my staff some of my old friends, WO2 Neil Rankin as RQMS, Stan Wilczek as technical sergeant, Spike Jones as RQMS (Increment), Robin Sheppard, Allan McLean and ‘Perky’ Evans as CQMS. In fact, most of the NCOs had remained with 6 RAR to enjoy an accompanied overseas tour. The RSM was Keith Davidson and McLeod-Lee was still pipe major. A number of the officers had also remained. This was my last period of RAR service, although I would continue to have the opportunity of contributing to the regiment.

This occurred in my next two postings, first as OI WO Wing, Infantry Centre, where I used my own experience and that of my staff to formulate a balanced syllabus and system for WO training, and then as SO2 (Personnel) in the Directorate of Infantry, where I had an influence on posting and promotion. It had been clear to me over more than twenty years’ service that there was little career planning for WOs and NCOs. I made this clear to the Director and to SO1 (Personnel) (Lieutenant Colonel Mick Harris, MC) and after guidance formulated a career progression system which I understand pertains to the present, probably in modified form. My other contribution to the regiment was that I wrote specification ECN–343-(Rifleman). I also wrote ECN-ECN–358(SM) but this did not survive the ministrations of the Directorate of Personnel Plans. It seems that the sergeant major in our corps is a more comprehensive creature than his counterpart elsewhere. As A.B. Facey said in the title of his book, I had a most fortunate life.

Colonel Colin East, MBE, memories of a BCOF Company Commander (from the 1990 edition)

The Beginning

The end of the Second World War saw me at Balikpapan in Dutch Borneo as a 24-year-old captain commanding a rifle company of the 2/9th Battalion of the 7th Division. When volunteers were called for an infantry battalion as part of an occupation force for Japan, I applied and was accepted. This was the start of a unique and fascinating experience for me for the next three years.

There was no shortage of volunteers from the AIF in Balikpapan. In early October the process of selection of the required numbers began, with company commanders given the responsibility for selecting their own men. The volunteers from the 18th, 21st and 25th Infantry Brigades were allotted to A, B and C Companies, and as the junior company commander, I was given approximately 300 volunteers from the 2/2nd Pioneer Battalion, 2/7th Cavalry Commando Regiment, and the 2/lst Machine-Gun Battalion, from which to select my 120-strong D Company. As a concession from the commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Marson, I was allowed to accept any volunteers from my 2/9th Battalion C Company.

I was fortunate to have Lieutenants Wally Frood and ‘Ossie’ Osbaldiston accompany me from the 2/9th Battalion, and they were joined by David Thomson from the 2/16th Battalion, with Captain George McLean of the armoured regiment as my second-in-command. From the warrant officers available, I chose ‘Clancy’ Scholes, a 6 feet 4 inches (1.93 m) veteran from the pioneer battalion, a choice I was not to regret. For five days I interviewed every volunteer and chose the full establishment of non-commissioned officers and private soldiers for my company. I doubt if such an opportunity is ever likely to recur in the future for a company commander of the RAR.

What manner of men and what was their motivation in volunteering for at least a further year of service abroad instead of returning home to Australia? The reasons for service in BCOF were varied, but in summary were as follows. There was a curiosity to see the country and home of these Japanese soldiers against whom they had been involved in bitter fighting for more than three years—an enemy whom they had regarded as almost sub-human. Linked with this feeling was the thought that by actually policing the Japanese in their own country, it would be participation in the final chapter of the war, and that they were entitled to see it through to its conclusion. There was an element of desire to share in the spoils of victory—rape, loot and pillage syndrome—to which many felt that they were entitled. Finally, there were those who after six years of war felt curious reluctance to return to ‘civvy street’, to give up the comradeship they had enjoyed, and perhaps to face the relative dullness of peacetime Australia.

As soldiers they were superb. Many had served in the Middle East, the majority had combat experience in Papua and New Guinea, and now Borneo, and the average age was 25 or 26 years. They came from all walks of life and all professions, the majority were single men, but all shared the common experience of testing in the crucible of combat. They were the most professional of fighting men.

Arrival in Japan

The main body of the 65th Battalion including D Company landed at the port of Kure on 23 February 1946. This followed our move from Balikpapan to Morotai Island by sea to concentrate with the 34th Brigade, which in turn was followed by four boring and frustrating months awaiting the final orders for movement to Japan. This period was a testing time and called for all the necessary qualities of leadership at all levels to combat the general unrest amongst the troops over the increasing delay. The patience and determination of all ranks was rewarded in February when sea transport arrived for the final haul. Morale rose immediately on our embarkation in the landing ship HMS Glengyle on 8 February 1946, and all enjoyed the conditions and food provided by the Royal Navy for the next two weeks.

As we sailed north the weather became progressively colder, but we were quite unprepared for the shock of the cold winds coming off the snow-covered mountains of Shikoku, as we moved into the Inland Sea. At this stage the soldiers who were still affected by prickly heat discovered that their dry scaly skin was rapidly shed, as a prelude to the disappearance of the complaint. As we moved through the Inland Sea the main reaction of the troops was one of awe at the beauty of the islands which dotted its length. This gave way to a quiet triumphal mood as we approached Kure, and the signs of a defeated nation became evident, with sunken warships and a heavily damaged industrial shoreline on the main island of Honshu, our destination.

The night before we disembarked in Kure I moved among my men of D Company, listening to their reactions to the sights they had been viewing and their thoughts of the next day. The general feeling was of satisfaction that at last they would set foot on Nippon as the victors. The attitude towards the Japanese was very bitter and hostile, and all felt that trouble with the Japanese could be encountered. Over all, however, was a feeling of starting on a new adventure and dealing with a different sort of challenge.

Lieutenant General H.C.H. Robertson, Commander-in-Chief BCOF, inspecting the 65th Battalion on 26 August 1946. The battalion is parading on the airstrip of the former Japanese naval air station at Fukuyama. The photograph shows the C-in-C inspecting Headquarters Company, accompanied by Major T.E. Archer, OC Headquarters Company, and (immediately behind the C-in-C) Major N.R. McLeod, the brigade major. Behind Major Archer is Lieutenant A.J. Milner, the intelligence officer. The group following the inspection party is (right to left) Brigadier R.N.L. Hopkins, Commander 34th Brigade, Lieutenant Colonel R.H. Marson, CO 65th Battalion, Captain D.F. Saunders, adjutant 65th Battalion, and Major J.F. McCaffrey, second-in-command 65th Battalion, wearing glasses (photo: Captain A.E. Perks).

We disembarked on the Kure wharf after breakfast in battle order carrying our weapons, wearing our Australian ‘digger’ hats and marched to the railway station. On the way we passed along streets covered with slush and mud and lined with impassive-faced Japanese. There was a tension in the air, absolutely no noise, no smiles, and we were conscious of the devastation and destruction from allied bombing all around us. Another impression was of the drabness of the inhabitants with their garb, the grey colour of the buildings and dwellings, and a general feeling of the poverty of the Japanese.

The battalion detrained and moved into temporary barracks at Kaitaichi, in a disused army ordnance depot. These consisted of long wooden huts into which 60 men were located. There was no furniture, and each hut was heated with a converted 44-gallon drum oil drip heater, which immediately impressed as a distinct fire hazard. We were cheered by the advice that if the hut caught fire it would take all of four minutes before the roof collapsed. The officers’ mess was allotted half a hut, partitioned by hessian screens, with the remaining half set aside as living quarters. These conditions, combined with the snow and cold, convinced us then that service with the BCOF was not going to be just a victory march.

Highlights and Anecdotes, 1946–48

Any infantry sub-unit commander welcomes an independent task. D Company was more than fortunate in April 1946, when detached to the city of Onomichi, south-west of Fukuyama, a port of 80,000 people on the Inland Sea. The area was known for its black-market activities, and my job was the enforcement of SCAP directives, and the maintenance of law and order. My company was supported by a detachment of military police and two NCOs from field security. The company was housed comfortably in a converted school on the city outskirts, about ten minutes’ jeep ride from the city centre. For six months we enjoyed sole authority in the area, which was exercised by regular liaison meetings with the mayor and the police chief. There was no overt hostility from the population, and we received cooperation from the Japanese authorities. The people were periodically reminded of the presence of the victors through a combination of ceremonial marches on foot or on vehicles, with all weapons carried including fixed bayonets.

We were successful in our patrol program, and the story of our raid on shipping in Onomichi harbour in early July is described in chapter 2. Two further comments on this operation are, I believe, worthy of mention. The first was when the mistress of the skipper of the arrested vessel, whom we had lodged with the crew in the gaol in Onomichi, sent word that she wished to talk to me. Her proposal was the offer of her sexual favours in return for the release of herself and her lover! She was a Nisei (a Canadian-Japanese) who reacted to my refusal with a torrent of the foulest language I had heard in six years of war—all uttered in a strong transatlantic accent! My second comment relates to the hoard of gold, US dollars, pearls and medical supplies which we had confiscated. To the best of my knowledge the booty remained intact after seizure, because we were all watching each other—the military police, field security, the Japanese police and my company! Eventually an officer from the Battalion Headquarters accompanied by a US Army officer conveyed it to Yokohama. I believe it was the nearest we got to ‘loot and pillage’ during our BCOF service.

In late 1946 the battalion moved to Tokyo and assumed guard duties for one month, taking over from the New Zealanders. Ceremonial guard mountings held on the Tokyo Plaza drew crowds of Japanese and US military observers, and the competition between companies was keen. The turnout and precision of drill was very favourably commented upon by all, and contributed to a tremendous unit and national pride in all ranks. We established very cordial relations with the 7th US Cavalry, whose headquarters at Mudge Hall (the former home of a Japanese prince of the blood) was the scene of many convivial gatherings. It was here and elsewhere in Tokyo that our officers met with the officers of the Soviet Military Mission, then located in Tokyo. Approximately 200 members of this mission were seeking a role for Soviet forces participation in the military occupation of Japan. Although this was not achieved, there was no lack of cordiality or hospitality in our social encounters with the Russians. Their lack of English was no barrier and a lingua franca soon emerged—particularly as the vodka toasts became more frequent! They were prodigious drinkers and very friendly at the time, and extremely colourful people. When we returned to Tokyo in 1947 the city was quieter for their absence!

The battalion concentrated at its newly built barracks at Fukuyama in 1947 for the first time since its arrival at Kaitaichi. In this comparatively remote eastern part of Hiroshima prefecture, the all-male Australian existence was enlivened with the arrival of four YWCA representatives, who in their secondary role, exercised a somewhat civilising influence on the high-spirited members of the officers’ mess. In the latter part of the year five wives of battalion members, including my own, arrived from Australia and moved into Japanese homes taken over by the BCOF in Fukuyama.

It was at about this time that I saw the former Son of Heaven, Emperor Hirohito of Japan, pass by my door. The circumstances were as follows. The emperor made his first visit to his people since the end of the war, and travelled in the Royal Chrysanthemum train from Tokyo through Honshu. His train stopped at Fukuyama, and he was scheduled to visit a Shinto shrine on the highest hill in the city which overlooked the railway station. My newly allotted married quarters stood almost at the top of the hill with the road to the shrine passing my entrance. I was present that morning when the royal train drew into Fukuyama station and the emperor alighted to be greeted by thunderous ‘banzais’ from practically the whole population of the city. Approximately half an hour later a procession on foot approached with a small figure in conventional civilian suit, wearing glasses, no hat and a completely emotionless expression, leading the way. There were hundreds of Japanese standing on both sides of me who prostrated themselves in silence as Hirohito drew level. I was in uniform at the time and we looked at each other at a range of two metres. Neither of us expressed any sign of recognition—his face was quite impassive, and his eyes blank. He passed me and I went inside experiencing all sorts of feelings. This very ordinary-looking little man was the Sun God for whom millions of Japanese had been prepared to die, and who knows, if the reception at Fukuyama was any indication, still were. It was a sobering thought, but an experience I would never have missed.

The year 1948 provides a kaleidoscope of memories of varied and contrasting events. The Australian government’s decision to wind down BCOF became manifest with reduced strengths in all the battalions. The 65th Battalion moved to the island of Eta Jima and I was granted the honour of commanding the last battalion guard in Tokyo, comprising a two-company strength.

With the 65th and 66th Battalions on orders to return home in December, I was posted to 67th Battalion, commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Ken Mackay, which was to remain in Japan. We moved to married quarters at Niji Mura or Rainbow Village near Hiro and resumed regimental soldiering. Names come flooding back like Bruce ‘I.B.’ Ferguson, the second-in-command, George Bales, Bill Chitts, Darcy Laughlin, Warwick Callender and Bernie O’Dowd—most of whom accompanied the battalion to Korea in 1950.

We had hardly settled into our new surroundings when I was informed that I had been selected for training in the United Kingdom. In the midst of these preparations, I was ordered by the CO to move immediately with my company to the city of Ube on the south coast of Honshu to restore order following an ugly outbreak of violence by local Koreans. This operation is referred to in chapter 2, and required no more action than the visible presence on the streets of Ube of 120 Australian infantrymen with fixed bayonets, and no-nonsense looks about them. In a week we had returned to Hiro, had farewell parties in the battalion, and made our final departure for Sydney in the Duntroon.

Reflections

It was my good fortune to have been part of a unique military/social experience, which can never be repeated. The privilege extended to being a member of probably the most combat-experienced brigade of Australian infantrymen that this country has produced in the past, and to see them develop into the highly disciplined, well-trained nucleus of today’s Royal Australian Regiment.

My regret is that North Korea did not invade the South when the 34th Brigade was at full strength. In the event, the BCOF experience, which retained experienced AIF officers and NCOs in the army after the Second World War, provided the hard core of regular infantry which was refined and polished through Korea, the Malayan Emergency, Indonesian Confrontation and Vietnam, to arrive at the highly professional Royal Australian Regiment of today. The AIF and the BCOF provided the solid base and tradition on which the army’s regular infantry can continue to build.

Alan Gillman, OAM, CSM (for the 2008 edition)

Life in the regiment started for me as a young seventeen-year-old in January 1977. On enlisting I was lucky enough to have been instructed by senior infantry soldiers who would leave a lasting impression on me. At Kapooka my first platoon sergeant was Brian Payne, an impressive soldier who inspired me to join the regiment.

After passing out of Kapooka we arrived at Depot Company, Singleton at about 1930hrs to find we would be waiting a week for another platoon to march out of Kapooka before we could commence our corps training. To fill in that week we were initiated into duties week (something every one of us would learn to despise), a week of guards, kitchen duties and work parties for the regimental sergeant major and quarter-master sergeant. I remember on one such occasion being tasked to clean the ablution blocks; on completion I reported to our platoon commander, Sergeant Bob George, that the task had been completed. His first query was as to whether I had gotten rid of all the s#*t, to which I replied, ‘Yes, Sergeant’. He then queried: ‘Well what are you still doing here? You’re the biggest turd around here, now get going.’ It was then that I knew that I had been accepted—unfortunately today some would view this episode as harassment. Bob would later be my RSM in 8/9 RAR and eventually would be given the massive task to revamp the all corps NCO training, which he did.

Training in those days was full-on with reveille at 0500 hrs, quickly followed by an early morning run. The days were taken up with learning our new trade and getting to know our section members, developing teamwork, trust and confidence in our new-found abilities. Our corporals were all ex-Vietnam veterans with a wealth of experience who didn’t accept anything but our best. My section commander was a very experienced SAS soldier, Mick McCrone, a huge imposing figure of a man who ultimately got the best out of all of us.

Our lines were the old ten-man huts with little heating. The ablution blocks were located outside the back of the huts. In the middle of the Singleton winter the lines were bitterly cold, especially for those of us from the tropics. I learnt very quickly that rugby was the chosen sport and having played rugby league all my life it didn’t take long to pick up the intricacies of union, initially as a winger! The commandant at the Infantry Centre at the time, Colonel John Essex-Clark, was a devoted rugby man and loved his rugby team (if they were winning). I later had the privilege to serve on the board of the Royal Australian Regiment Foundation of which Brigadier John Essex-Clark was the secretary. Even in retirement he is a devoted supporter of the soldiers in the regiment—it was an honour to have the opportunity to work beside him.

My first posting was to 2/4 RAR in Townsville. Being a North Queenslander I was delighted to be posted back to the tropics. On arrival in the battalion we were welcomed by the RSM and sent off to our respective companies. I was fortunate enough to be posted to B Company. My platoon sergeant, Jethro Hanna, was a soldier who would inspire me for the remainder of my career. A professional, no-nonsense soldier with strong military values, principles and ethos, his pride in the regiment in which he served was unwavering and his loyalty to his soldiers and superiors was uncompromising. He taught me that no matter what rank you attain, never forget where you came from and always put the welfare of your soldiers before your own.

When I arrived in Townsville the battalion was going through the final throes of the transformation that had occurred after the amalgamation of 2 and 4 RAR in 1973. Battalion life revolved around the platoon and company activities, with not much intermixing between each of the companies. The unit was fairly laid-back at the time but when there was work to be done it was done in a very businesslike manner. Most time in the battalion was spent training, on field exercises, and playing sport. Success in sport at the time, particularly rugby, was a major factor in how the battalion was viewed by outsiders.

Throughout my time in 2/4 RAR (August 1977–August 1985) I gained promotion to sergeant having spent time in all but Charlie and Administration Companies. I was also fortunate enough to be in the companies selected for overseas deployments to Hawaii and Butterworth, Malaysia. During that time the battalion had gone through a restructure as part of the Operational Deployment Force (ODF), later to be renamed the Ready Deployment Force (RDF). The ‘southern’ soldiers who joined the unit to make up the new D Company in 1981 took some time to be accepted, but in time they were. With the change came the never-ending kit inspections and brigade checks as part of the ‘On Line Procedure’ to ensure that the battalion was ready to move at short notice.

I then had a short stint at Canungra as an instructor at Battle Wing, working alongside the likes of Chad Sherrin, MM, Frank Van Llewyn, Snow Sullivan, Barry Fitton, Doug Melrose, Brian Todd and Bruce Phillips. All were exceptionally experienced and professional infantry soldiers. Following this I was posted to 8/9 RAR as platoon sergeant. My CSM at the time was Dave Bennett, another very professional soldier who would later be my RSM at 2/4 RAR. Dave was my inspiration to become an RSM; he was an exceptional soldier and it was a shame to see him retire as early as he did.

Life in 8/9 RAR was different to that of 2/4 RAR. There were far fewer resources and manpower (my platoon only had two sections), but the soldiers were every bit as committed as those soldiers in the RDF. Like all new units it took a while to settle in, but being a rugby player helped. The unit enjoyed its sport and was very competitive with our sights set firmly on defeating 6 RAR and maintaining the infantry dominance within 6th Brigade, which we did in 1987–88. The morale of the battalion at this time was very high; I feel the mixing of the officers and SNCOs with the diggers every Thursday sports afternoon in the Rams Retreat had a lot to do with this.

Whilst in 8/9 RAR I remember acting as CSM in the absence of Dave Bennett, who was away doing his RSM Course. I recall being called into see the RSM, Bob George. There I was told, in no uncertain circumstances, that I was to retrieve the 31 RQR Mascot (a goat’s head) as it was alleged that my soldiers had stolen it whilst in Rockhampton acting as enemy for an exercise at Shoalwater Bay. Having assured the RSM that the soldiers of B Company had been maligned and would never have done such a terrible thing I went back to the company. I paraded them, explained this travesty of justice and asked them if they had any knowledge of this, to which there was only silence. About an hour later, while in the sergeants’ mess, I received a phone call to come up to the company parade ground. On arrival the company was on parade at the open order when a corporal (who will remain nameless) gave the command to close order march. There sitting on the ground in the middle of the parade ground was the said item. To this day I still don’t know who the culprit was, but I have my suspicions.

It was a very sad day for the regiment, for all serving and ex-serving members of 8/9 RAR when it was announced that the battalion was to be removed from the order of battle. It was a fine battalion.

After a posting to the Royal Military College, Duntroon as a drill instructor I left on promotion to WO2 to the 5th/6th Battalion, Royal Victorian Regiment (RVR). It was a time away from the regiment that would assist in preparing me for my posting back to 2/4 RAR as the company sergeant major of B Company.

My arrival back in the battalion coincided with the 1 RAR deployment on Operation Solace in Somalia. The feeling in the battalion at that time was one of disappointment as 2/4 RAR was the Ready Battalion Group and expected to go; however, this was not to be. At the time we had a number of soldiers deployed to Cambodia and a number would accompany 1 RAR to fill the gaps left by those who were unfit for deployment; however, those of us left behind in the battalion felt cheated.

I was extremely lucky to spend three years in the battalion and even luckier to spend them as the CSM B Company. The soldiers were typically hard working and professional, with a touch of larrikinism. I remember riding my pushbike up to physiotherapy and having to avoid a vehicle, which led to me going over the side of a bridge. When I returned back to the company I was greeted by my corporals with a yellow T-shirt, which was then presented to me as the winner of the ‘Tour de Lavarack’—thanks Blackie.

In my third year, the battalion was de-linked, and for some this was a great day; however, for those of us who had spent most of our lives in the 2nd/4th Battalion it was a very sad occasion. It all became real when the colours of 4 RAR marched from the Parade Ground for the last time and our lanyards were removed and replaced by the black lanyard of 2 RAR.

Throughout my time in the 2nd/4th Battalion I feel that we never had a close relationship with either of the battalion associations, which is a shame. The battalion was hard-working but I feel that due to us never deploying on operations as a unit there was nothing we could attach ourselves to—1 RAR had Coral, 2 RAR had Samichon, 3 RAR had Kapyong, and 6 RAR had Long Tan, but 2/4 RAR had no distinct honour. This could have been the ‘heart and soul’ of the battalion and I feel this was the missing element, evidenced perhaps by the failure of the 2/4 RAR association. This is my own view and I know there are those out there who will vehemently disagree, but having spent over ten years in the battalion I feel I am qualified to make this assessment.

It was also in my third year that B Company was selected to deploy on operations to Rwanda as part of the United Nations Assistance Mission In Rwanda (UNAMIR), Operation Tamar. The deployment was postponed for 24 hours as the Civil Aviation Authority grounded the Tower Air aircraft we were to deploy in, as the navigation equipment, landing gear and a number of other problems were identified—bless the United Nations for sending us their best aircraft.

On arrival in Rwanda it was decided that the company second-in-command was required as an additional operations officer and he was taken from us leaving a hole for me to fill as both second-in-command and CSM for the remainder of the

Members of 5 Platoon, B Company, 2/4 RAR at the Kibeho refugee camp in Rwanda on 22 April 1995 look on while soldiers of the Rwandan People’s Army slaughter Hutu refugees. The infantrymen were there as escorts for members of the Australian medical contingent and along with a group of Zambian soldiers were faced with the peacekeeper’s dilemma of having to observe atrocities being carried out, but being able to do little to prevent them. The men of Lieutenant T.S. Tilbrook’s platoon frequently exposed themselves to danger by recovering wounded Rwandans for evacuation and in doing so two of them earned the Medal for Gallantry (Department of Defence photo MSU’95_ D7-SLIDE).

deployment; this was a challenging and very rewarding experience. I felt extremely lucky as the relationship I had developed with my officer commanding, Major Steve McCrohon, over the previous twelve months was very solid and contributed to our success.

This deployment would bring out the finest in our soldiers. Their mateship, training, teamwork and compassion would all be tested to the very limits of endurance. Initially the three companies (medical, operation support and infantry) remained as separate identities and didn’t click. The gap grew wider as the deployment progressed until the Rwandan People’s Army (RPA) attack on the displaced person camp at Kibeho in April 1995. This brought the whole contingent together with soldiers of every corps more than happy to have the men of the regiment out front providing the security they needed to get on with their jobs.

At Kibeho the men under the command of Lieutenant Steve Tilbrook and Corporal Brian Buskell performed superbly. Confronted by 2000 armed RPA and up to 10,000 displaced persons running, screaming and dying around them, the infantry soldiers can hold their heads high for their display of courage, compassion and their steadfast ability to look after each other and get on with the job of saving as many lives as they could under extremely hazardous conditions. From this incident there were four Medals for Gallantry awarded, two going to infantry soldiers, Lieutenant Tilbrook and Lance Corporal Andrew Miller. Corporal Buskell was awarded the Land Commander’s Commendation for outstanding leadership during the same incident.

Throughout the remainder of the tour there were many more incidents where the men of B Company distinguished themselves by saving lives. Not least of which was Corporal Jake Blake, who had the presence of mind to insert two drips into a medic after a vehicle accident where the barrel of the Steyr rifle had pierced the medic’s bladder. This action saved the life of the medic. We also set the standard for the number of soldiers who spent a night or two in the guardhouse for being vocal and playful after a few ‘sherbets’—once again, the men of the regiment leading the way.

On return to Townsville and 2 RAR, I felt like we were outsiders and never really felt part of the battalion. I was posted late in the year, once again to the Royal Military College, Duntroon.

After Duntroon I was promoted to WO1 and assumed the appointment as the regimental sergeant major of the 12th/40th Battalion, the Royal Tasmania Regiment. In 2001 I was selected as the regimental sergeant major of the ‘Big Blue One’ (1 RAR), joining the battalion on operations in East Timor. This was the pinnacle of my career, but to join the battalion on operations was quite daunting. Never having worked with the commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel John Caligari, and never having served in 1 RAR I felt like an outsider. Despite coming from the battalion across the road I was determined to get on with the job. My handover with Steve Ward, a good friend, went extremely well and a smooth transition took place. The commanding officer and I hit it off right away and got straight to business. I never would have guessed that most of my time in Fort Balibo (Battalion Headquarters) would be spent writing parade instructions for our return to Australia and vetting operational and annual PR 66 (soldier evaluation) reports—as it would turn out, this was time well spent.

During the day I spent most of the time on the road with the commanding officer visiting soldiers at checkpoints and outposts, doing career interviews and getting to know the soldiers—this was time also well spent. I found that 1 RAR is very comfortable with being the first battalion and shoulders that responsibility with ease. The battalion performed exceptionally well without fuss or fanfare throughout the deployment and set the standard for others to follow.

Our return to Australia coincided with Coral Day, which added to the ceremonial activities and success of our tour of East Timor. Steve Ward, the previous RSM, had given me the idea to involve the Coral veterans in presenting medals to our soldiers. As it turned out this proved to be the highlight of a spectacular event with over 800 officers and soldiers on parade and 72 Coral veterans marching onto the battalion parade ground, chests out and heads held high to present medals to these new veterans. I remember marching off the parade ground to the tune of ‘Waltzing Matilda’ through a guard of honour formed by the cheering and clapping Coral veterans and feeling the hair stand up on the back of my neck. It is something I, and I’m sure the battalion’s soldiers, will never forget.

After 1 RAR I was delighted to be posted as the regimental sergeant major of the Royal Military College, Duntroon and once again had the opportunity to serve alongside some of the most professional infantry officers and soldiers it is my pleasure to have known. It was here that I had the honour to serve on the board of directors of the Royal Australian Regiment Foundation alongside the likes of Brigadier John Essex-Clark (Ret). He and his cohort of volunteers are what the regiment is all about; they are all exceptional men with their only interest being supporting our soldiers.

I thoroughly enjoyed my time in the regiment, I regret nothing and given the opportunity I would do it again. I learnt something from everybody I worked with, both in and out of the regiment. When I was posted away from the battalions I was fortunate enough in my postings to always be surrounded by professional infantry soldiers and in all cases had the opportunity to be teaching what we in the regiment do best: war fighting. It is my sincere hope that we don’t move away from this role as we have in the past few years. To the new generation of NCOs I say two things.

First, don’t be in too big a hurry to get promoted (learn your trade both on and off the battlefield, become good administrators, instructors and advisors), our young officers need you. Second, most of all look after your men.

Brigadier Simon Gould, DSC (for the 2008 edition)

I joined the regiment in December 1982 and remember ‘strolling’ around RMC the day after graduation in my new uniform including a rifle green beret, stable belt of red/green/red, and the slate grey and beech brown twisted lanyard of 8/9 RAR, very excited about joining ‘the infantry’. I had only a brief exposure to the battalions during my years at Duntroon and had made my decision to be an infantry officer having completed the three-week jungle training period at Canungra at the end of second class. The infantry training warrant officers had made a strong impression on me. What I was not to know at the time was where my future career would take me, nor that my regimental service would be exclusively with the three linked battalions.

8/9 RAR had just moved into brand-new accommodation within Enoggera Barracks, having left the Queenslander-style buildings it had called home since 1973. It would be fair to say that the battalion was not entirely happy with the new arrangements, particularly as the officers and sergeants had lost their own messes and the new battalion area lacked a sense of coherence of the traditional lines.

The battalion itself had a no-nonsense, if relaxed, style to the way it did its business. Its numbers were down as it had been pressed into sending the bulk of its private soldiers who were over eighteen years old to Townsville to man the new Operational Deployment Force. This left A and B Companies with only two rifle platoons and a support section each. Support Company was well manned and a much sought after organisation to be a member of. The battalion had a very strong bunch of corporals who seemed to physically dominate the unit. Our CO was Lieutenant Colonel Roger Thornley, who certainly lived up to his nickname of ‘Cool hand Luke’, particularly when dealing with the sub-units over the command net.

I marched into 3 Platoon at the end of January, meeting them in the field at Greenbank Range. Again, they were led by a confident group of junior NCOs. One of these, Peter ‘Cowboy’ Jones, had served in Vietnam and it was normal for veterans to be found as sergeants or filling company and battalion headquarters appointments. Another corporal, Rod Speter, would later share the experience of serving in the other two linked battalions with me. Our OC was Major Tony Casey, who had recently returned from serving in Uganda and WO Bill Davis, who I recall had a chest full of medals and citations, was the CSM. Our company was to deploy to Malaysia in November of 1983 and so had a clear focus for the year. I recall a series of company, battalion and brigade level exercises in my first year that were centred on conventional operations. We deployed in HMAS Tobruk on one of her first army exercises and spent eight weeks continuously at Shoalwater Bay being exercised or providing support to 6 RAR’s activities. Life as a subaltern in the battalion was relatively simple as we had been pretty well trained as infantry platoon commanders during our years at Duntoon. That said, Mark Mathews, the other platoon commander within the company, was a constant source of advice to me, ensuring that I was doing things the way they were meant to be done within the battalion. When he was replaced by Jim Boubouras, another OCS graduate, it was my turn to pass on the ‘good oil’ and help with the assimilation process.

The company was brought up to full strength in October by the inclusion of ‘Tourist’ platoon (2 Platoon) made up of Butterworth volunteers from Support Company. Our last training activity was three weeks’ training at Canungra before embarking on a RAAF 707 in November. The three-month deployment was a great learning experience for all members of the platoon, particularly those in command appointments. Operationally, the platoon was required to provide a ‘quick reaction force’ capability to the air base, in an environment where we were never sure of what response the Malaysians may also provide should a ‘real callout’ be activated. Outside of this commitment, the company had great opportunities to conduct live firing and close country exercises beyond those available back home. 8/9 RAR used three types of machine-gun at section level (M60, 7.62 mm Bren and the L2A2 Automatic Rifle) so the time spent live firing was important to maintaining skills. Of course the attractions of Penang and more distant destinations like Bangkok provided further variety. It was my first exposure to being responsible for soldiers for 24 hours a day, seven days a week and provided my grounding in how best to lead in a variety of settings.

On return to Australia I spent another three months with the platoon before moving to Battalion Headquarters as the assistant adjutant. This was not a job that was high on anyone’s preference list but certainly gave me a great perspective of the wider battalion than experienced in the rather sheltered existence of a rifle platoon.

The battalion conducted a moving parade to farewell Lieutenant Colonel Thornley, in early December 1984. I remember quite vividly him taking off his lanyard and handing it to the new CO, Gordon Hurford, then being driven off parade, never to be seen again. I was taken by the symbolism of the lanyard handover and ended up doing the same thing when I handed over 5/7 RAR sixteen years later.

One of Gordon Hurford’s first decisions as CO was to approve a short notice posting that would see me march into the Infantry Centre at Singleton, New South Wales, in January. My time with 8/9 RAR was ending quickly. It had been a great two years, with plenty of opportunity to travel, play sport and be involved in a myriad different exercises. On reflection, battalion life in Brisbane in the early 1980s was very relaxed. 8/9 RAR had limited emphasis on deployability and more on camaraderie and physical toughness exhibited on the sporting fields. We did not seem to have strong links with either 8 RAR or 9 RAR, notwithstanding the mascot, our band and scattered reminders in the form of ‘old’ photos hanging in various corridors about the place. We considered ourselves to be competent and pragmatic, but rarely ‘stretched’. The battalion had a genuine confidence in its own abilities as 8/9 RAR and a profound sense of brotherhood, particularly amongst the junior ranks.

The highlight of my posting at Singleton was with Depot Company, RAR where I spent more than eighteen months as the training officer. This was a role that had wide-ranging responsibilities across the training of up to seven platoons, delivering an eleven-week basic rifleman course. The instructors in the company where generally of the highest quality and found from all battalions of the RAR. It was a unique opportunity to learn from each other. The company was commanded by Major Nev Murray (ex-3 RAR and 1 RAR) in my first year and Ian ‘I.J.’ Robinson (ex-7 RAR, 3 RAR and 2/4 RAR) in my second. Both were great characters and entirely different in their approaches to dealing with the challenges of leading more than half a dozen young officers, 50 JNCOs and hundreds of ‘soon to be’ infantrymen. OC Depot Company has always been a challenging appointment but these gentlemen brought a sense of professionalism, balance and real enjoyment to the job that I always tried to replicate later in my command appointments.

Expecting an appointment to one of the Townsville battalions as the mortar platoon commander, I was surprised to receive a posting order to 5/7 RAR as the adjutant in January 1989. On entering Tobruk Lines on day one, I felt immediately welcomed into the battalion family. It is hard to describe that sense of belonging the ‘Tigers’ prided themselves on, other than to say that I found it to be unique. It might have had its origins in the fact that it was the only mechanised infantry battalion and therefore had to be close-knit to be successful in a predominantly ‘light infantry’ army. Equally it could be because of the approach of the strong ‘old fashioned’ leaders and characters filling key appointments, who were determined to see traditional standards and regimental life maintained. Our CO was Rod Margetts, a man with a very dry sense of humour and a great sense of proportion. He was supported by the energetic Dougal McMillan as second-in-command; the ‘always thinking, always jovial’ Steve Quinn as operations officer; and Brian Boughton as RSM. Together with a tough bunch of OCs, there was no doubt that the battalion had a very strong command team.

As a mechanised battalion, our focus was firmly on combined arms work, with our closest ties being with the 1st Armoured Regiment, the 8/12th Medium Regiment and the sappers. 5/7 RAR and the remainder of the 1st Brigade saw ourselves as innovators within the Australian Army, embracing concepts such as manoeuvre warfare long before it became doctrine. There were challenges, however. Our battalion was spread over three compounds within Holsworthy Barracks in some very primitive conditions and had to work constantly at maintaining mechanised skills. This task was made more daunting as the mechanised rifle companies lacked sufficient JNCOs and private soldiers and had spent limited time in the field over recent years. The absence of essential maintenance and logistic support often hampered the battalion’s readiness. However, 1989 would see plenty of opportunities to exercise up to battle group level and re-establish the necessarily combined arms expertise. This renewed focus was reflected in the battalion’s demeanour and the way it tackled its routine work as well. With the ‘northern’ battalions now wearing the new DPCU ensemble and gaining the priority for reinforcements, 5/7 RAR somehow remained a positive unit. It hosted a US Infantry company, despatched a company to Hawaii, provided a full strength sub-unit for a three-month Butterworth tour, found a mechanised company to work with HQ 1st Armoured Regiment as a hard-hitting force on Kangaroo ’89, whilst running exercise control, enemy forces and neutrals for the 6th Brigade part of this huge ADF exercise.

It would be fair to say that 5/7 RAR was a determined and professional battalion that toiled hard during a period of under-resourcing. It took significant pride in its relationship with both the 5 RAR and 7 RAR associations, and worked this relationship to the mutual benefit of all. Notwithstanding the battalion’s ownership of the M113s, members of these associations would readily recognise the weapons, radios, equipment, uniforms, mascots and accommodation of their modern day successor. It was my last posting to what I consider ‘the old RAR’—characterised by starched greens, SLRs and 77 set radios. In late 1991 I returned from a two-year posting to the British School of Infantry to take up the appointment as OC Delta Company, 2/4 RAR—the Roadrunners, working for Peter Pursey. By coincidence, ‘I.J.’ Robinson had been a previous OC Roadrunners and his legacy was still in evidence in the company headquarters building! We were a full strength rifle company of 108 all ranks, now armed with the new Steyr rifle and had recently been issued Raven HF radios. Within days of my arrival, the battalion went on leave and we assumed the online company group responsibility for the ADF. As a new OC I was fortunate to be well supported by Ed Black as second-in-command and the CSM, Ian ‘Stumpy’ Randall. I was impressed with the resources, readiness culture and sense of purpose in the battalion. Early on we had ample opportunity to train in those skills that I saw as important, with a solid focus on live firing and working at night. Later in the year we received the new Minimi section support weapon, developed new airmobile techniques with 5th Aviation Regiment and established the doctrine for service-protected evacuations. Later, much of what we did was tightly controlled by battalion headquarters, which did cause some frustration at times. I recall trying to ensure that the three platoon commanders, Geoff Goldsmith, Paul Kenny and Tom Biedermann, were given the necessary space to train their platoons and develop their own style (though I’m not sure how successful I was here).

I found 2/4 RAR a hard battalion to ‘break into’. Whilst I recognised a number of ex-8/9 RAR officers and NCOs scattered throughout the companies, the vast majority of the battalion had spent their days in 2/4 RAR and didn’t necessarily welcome ‘newcomers’ readily. It was not until I had played in the battalion Australian Rules team that triumphed over 1 RAR in the grand final (breaking a twelve-year winning streak for the Big Blue One!) that I felt like I belonged—about nine months after I had marched in! The battalion is difficult to characterise, but the tag of ‘bridesmaids’ does have some resonance. Living under the shadow of 1 RAR and its relatively long history was a reality for 2/4 RAR. Proving that we were better than ‘them’ was a constant theme, as was the undoubted dominance of the two infantry battalions within the brigade. The deployment of 1 RAR to Somalia in December 1992 only strengthened these impressions. But 2/4 RAR had its own straightforward style, belief and credibility. The fact that all of the 52 private soldiers that we ‘lent’ to 1 RAR for Operation Solace all returned to our battalion I think is telling.

I went on to command a 180-strong Support Company and then was the operations officer for Lieutenant Colonel Pat McIntosh, before deploying with him and another 130 members of the battalion to Rwanda with the first contingent in August 1994. Australia’s contribution to this UN mission was centred on a field hospital. As the second-in-command and operations officer I found it an ‘eye-opening’ experience having to deal with our health professionals; nonetheless, it was a highly rewarding experience and I made some lifelong friends. Our contingent relied heavily on the thoroughness, patience and cool heads of A Company, 2/4 RAR, who provided tireless support throughout the deployment. Apart from conducting routine security tasks, they led all the remote medical patrols and clinics throughout the entire country. They were called upon to conduct stretcher-bearing for mine victims (often children) and met with a number of very confronting situations when responding to reaction force tasks within Kigali. But two points stood out. First, they

Major Simon Gould, initially second-in-command of the infantry component and later operations officer for the Australian contingent to the United Nations Assistance Mission in Rwanda in December 1994 (AWM photo no. MSU/94/0073/03).

were firm but fair with the people, particularly the local military, when the locals themselves held the UN in very poor regard. Second, they set the standard of military bearing and professionalism for our contingent and I believe, the wider mission.

It was during this deployment that we learnt that 2/4 RAR was to be ‘de-linked’. Initially the concept seemed unreal—why ‘break up’ a perfectly good battalion when the army could simply re-raise 8/9 RAR? The disbanding of 8/9 RAR had seemed to go ahead without too much fuss, but had left its thousands of former members with no modern day home. We feared that the same would happen for those who had served over the last 22 years in 2/4 RAR. Instead, one of the original battalions, 2 RAR, was revived and 4 RAR, with a varied history, was also reinstated. Personally I find that I have no affiliation with either 2 or 4 RAR, having not served with them, and I still have a sense that 8/9 RAR has been ‘lost’. Does this mean anything in capability terms for the ADF—no. But the traditionalist in me tells me that we missed the opportunity of maintaining the intent of our regimental elders’ decisions of 1973.

Returning to 5/7 RAR as the commanding officer was both an exciting and daunting prospect. My memories of the battalion in 1989 were all fond ones, but they were to be now firmly in the past, as the soldiers and their families were to move over 4000 kilometres north from Sydney to Darwin. Our new home was purpose-built for a mechanised battalion; however, like the 8/9 RAR move, we lost our messes and the accommodation was not integral to the working area. We would be joining the remainder of the 1st Brigade, together for the first time. There were many familiar faces amongst the battalion’s key appointments to help with this significant challenge. The RSM, WO1 David Siggers, had taught me on my mortar course and served with me at the Infantry Centre; the QM, Major ‘Snow’ Ashton had been in the 8/9 RAR Q Store when I started by career; and I knew most of the OCs and CSMs well. Whilst there were a number of JNCOs who had been in 2/4 RAR with me, there were very few from my days with the Tiger battalion ten years earlier.

Whilst enacting the plan to establish the battalion in Darwin, we were tasked with becoming a high readiness battalion with the prospect of being deployed to assist in the rapidly deteriorating situation in East Timor. We now had what every unit needs: a clear focus and necessary resources. I thought our key challenges were establishing a ‘readiness culture’, drawing on my time in 2/4 RAR; ensuring that everyone clearly understood our potential peace enforcement role, based on my Rwanda experiences; whilst re-establishing the strong family sense within the Tiger battalion that I had enjoyed when posted as adjutant. From March to September we spent many months in the field; received over 100 reinforcements; installed and trained on new radios, battlefield computers, night vision equipment and navigation aids; and updated our APCs. Whilst much of our training was directed at ‘warfighting’ tasks, we were determined to be proficient at the potentially more complex roles to be found in UN Chapter VII tasks. We worked very hard in these areas, drawing heavily on our British exchange personnel to put together as realistic and demanding exercises as possible within the confines of the local area. I felt that the battalion came together quickly, aided by the establishment of a highly effective families network that won its own strong reputation as the PIT Crew (Partners In Timor) later when we deployed.

The lead-up to the deployment was a real roller-coaster ride. Operational security dictated that access to much of the planning information was denied to us. Until the international community had determined what was permissible and the Australian government had then decided on Australia’s role, we could do nothing but keep getting ready. The lack of information provided its own frustrations; heightened when we saw 2 RAR, 3 RAR and elements of the 2nd Cavalry Regiment launching from our brigade area. It looked like we would miss out, until on D+3 the call came from the Land Commander to deploy as quickly as possible. Immediately there was a great feeling of excitement and relief around the boys—we were off. I was confident that we would acquit ourselves well, but had much to do in a short period of time. Amongst other things, our reputation was on the line. Whilst we had passed all our readiness checks and assessments during the year, the scuttlebutt was that 5/7 RAR was not at the same standard as the 3rd Brigade battalions. Having served in Townsville for three years, I knew that we were at least as good as any of them. I told the battalion of my assessment. The trick was now to convince others. Confounding our critics, it proved relatively simple to move the battle group’s 90 M113s and over 80 other vehicles, stores for 28 days and 750 people by a combination of HMA Ships Tobruk and Jervis Bay, civilian shipping and C–130s. Having our own gunners, sappers and second-line logistics support within the battle group gave us great independence and capability, but did make us more cumbersome to move. The OPSO forward, ‘Scooter’ Goddard, and the battalion second-in-command Rowan ‘RAM’ Martin, back in Darwin, both worked tirelessly to coordinate the required approvals and assets.

Within hours of arrival in Dili, the sub-units had deployed into their AOs and quickly demonstrated their capabilities and approach to dealing with the security of over 150,000 people. Tactically, the plan was simple. Having relieved both 2 RAR and 3 RAR with our ‘smaller’ battle group, the area was divided up into four sub-unit areas—we named all our AOs throughout the tour after former COs of 5 RAR, 7 RAR and 5/7 RAR—for each of the three rifle companies and the re-roled Support Company, now named Patrols Company (comprising a headquarters and two large platoons—mortars and reconnaissance platoons). We then overlaid a battalion-coordinated reconnaissance, surveillance and intelligence effort and a civil–military liaison plan. Despite the limited operational experience within the battle group (I recall we had about 40 people with some sort of previous experience) the companies, platoons and sections took on our initial tasking within Dili with a real sense of quiet confidence and innovation. The impression we wanted to leave people with was that we were everywhere, all the time. There was nowhere to hide from us. We were both lucky and successful early, which then built our confidence levels to an extent that we were seldom troubled for the remaining seven months of the tour.

An M113 APC of C Company, 5/7 RAR moves through the streets of Dili in late October 1999. Apart from a small detachment to Rwanda this was the first operational deployment of a mechanised infantry battalion by the Australian Army. The characteristics of the battalion gave it an ability to control an area that had previously been covered by several battalions and did much to finally prove the mechanised battalion organisation in the army (AWM photo no. P04788.002).

Whilst our tactical plan was simple, the concept had to be flexible enough to work in an INTERFET setting as well as the UN one that we knew would come later. Our battalion was to remain after the bulk of the Australian contribution withdrew and therefore we had a genuine long term view. To that end we had to quietly demonstrate our competence, develop and maintain strong relationships with the people and other agencies, and then be always ready to stretch ourselves.

We lived our four key messages:

• We are here to help the people of East Timor;

• We are professional in everything we do;

• We are impartial; and

• Force protection is uppermost in our minds.

I had developed these messages whilst attending the battalion church parade immediately prior to our departure. Whilst I had been thinking of these for a while, they seemed to crystallise themselves during the service. They served us well, from our tasks within Dili, Licquisca and Gleno during the first three months of our work, through to our final tasking along the border with West Timor. Here we had fewer people to look after but where challenged by securing an ill-defined, new, international border. Our modus operandi changed little, although we gathered more niche resources when we transitioned to a UN command system. The bulk of the hard work of 5/7 RAR in East Timor was conducted by sections and platoons within discrete sub-unit AOs. Being responsible for more than 1600 square kilometres and tens of thousands of people meant that my influence was minimal. I relied entirely on the company commanders and they in turn relied on the junior officers and NCOs. That it worked is testimony to their professionalism and the training we had conducted throughout 1999 and earlier.

Leaving 5/7 RAR on 3 December 2000 was a mix of relief, pride and great sadness. We had worked extremely hard over the two years and I know I felt ‘drained’ of energy. But I was acutely aware that I was leaving the regiment after five exciting and challenging postings. I love the environment of a battalion, whether in barracks, in the bush, on the sporting field, in the messes, at the ‘boozer’ or on operations—I would not be part of it again. The RSM, Rod Speter, had put together a memorable battalion birthday parade, complete with new mascot, and ‘drove me off ’ in OC (the CO’s APC), having handed over the Tiger battalion to Mick Tucker. I could not think of a better way to be farewelled.

Whilst 5/7 RAR had maintained strong, meaningful links with both 5 RAR and 7 RAR associations throughout its history, the move to Darwin was always going to place a strain on these. With the battalion completing two operational tours of East Timor, it could be considered that it had ‘earned its stripes’ in its own right. The decision in 2003 to replace the last set of original colours in the regiment with the first set of ‘linked battalion’ colours, whilst initially a shock for many, proved to be entirely appropriate for the battalion that now boasts a history that extends beyond 30 years’ service to the country.

That I had spent my time in linked battalions, none of which remains today, very occasionally leaves me to wonder what might have been if reorganisations were conducted differently or posting orders had seen me serve in other units. I suspect I would have a similar story to write. Whilst my experience is that the battalions are different, and do change over time, the fundamentals of service vary little across the Royal Australian Regiment. Whilst we continue to cross-post officers and NCOs, and train individuals centrally at the Infantry Centre, I feel confident that these fundamentals will remain our strength.

As a closing thought, the recent de-linking of 5/7 RAR has left me with a strong sense of regimental ‘homelessness’. Perhaps the planned restoration of 8/9 RAR can remedy that feeling.

General Sir Francis Hassett, AC, KBE, CB, DSO, MVO, Commanding a Battalion in Korea (from the 1990 edition)

Command of a battalion in action is a high spot in a soldier’s career, but it was not an appointment easy to achieve in the Second World War when, with a few exceptions towards the end of the war, regular officers at that rank were kept in staff appointments. As a consequence, I was delighted when in 1951 I was sent to 1 RAR at Ingelburn and, a short time later in July, to 3 RAR in Korea.

At that time 3 RAR was preparing a defensive line near the Imjin River, some 50 kilometres north-west of Seoul. I found the battalion in good heart, though some thought they they were beginning to be forgotten by Australia. All looked fit, lean and confident, as they were entitled to do after performing so well in the first arduous winter campaign, culminating in their epic defence at Kapyong. There were more older soldiers in 3 RAR then than I was to see in later years in our regular battalions. Many were K Force volunteers, patriotic and adventurous young men fired up by experiences and stories of the Second World War. The battalion reminded me very much of Second World War battalions after a hard campaign. Battle fine-tunes battalions, not just in tactics and techniques but in confidence—the confidence of individuals in themselves, their platoon and company and the battalion itself. I saw many similarities between 3 RAR then and the 2/3rd Battalion, after the first Libyan battles in early 1941. Soldiers feeling and looking tough—clean and tidy enough but not smart—respectful to rank but more interested in the battle worth of individuals. Not a battalion to gladden the parade ground eye of an RSM but very useful looking, and quite capable of turning out well and drilling to a high standard, should it be required. These were warriors, in the sense that their job was to close with the enemy with butt and bayonet and they had done this well.

Unlike Vietnam, there was little controversy surrounding Australia’s participation in this UN war. These matters did not seem to concern the soldiers of 3 RAR. They were there to do a job and saw the need for it. That was enough.

For many, leave or relief was pending, and this was unsettling. The system of individual relief for 3 RAR caused many problems. Later, in the fighting in October, individuals were coming and going at the height of battle. It is easy to imagine the feelings of those early veterans about to be committed to battle yet again when they were due for relief within the next day or so, or the bewilderment of newcomers pitched straight into heavy fighting. The loss of experienced section, platoon and company commanders at critical times caused particular difficulty. I had no flexibility in this matter. No less a person than the Commander-in-Chief himself, Lieutenant General Robertson, had made it very clear to me that if I held soldiers back from leave or relief then I would be sacked. There had been trouble about this in the past, and Robertson was not one to suffer repetition. Later, when the war became static the relief problem was partially solved by taking the battalion out of the line at peak periods of individual relief, notably the cyclical turnovers related to completion of service, and when there had been heavy casualties, such as at Kapyong and Maryang San. It was noteworthy that ‘Old Faithful’ always rose to the occasion, despite the turbulence.

The battalion continued preparation of the Imjin Line during July, August and September 1951 and the division was out of contact. The Chinese on our front were then several thousand metres away; their precise location was not known to us. To regain contact 3 RAR did some patrolling, the most significant being a deep patrol in strength (Tactical HQ and two companies) in September which made contact, taking two prisoners and putting a lot of well-directed artillery fire into the surprised Chinese milling about on their defensive position. This quiet period enabled the battalion to settle down and gain some cohesion after the turbulent period of repostings. Although I have stressed the weakness of this system of relief, it did produce a very effective amalgam of K Force volunteers and young regulars. Many of the latter, then junior officers, later played major roles in the regiment’s history: Shelton, Lee Greville, Brumfield, Preece, Scott, Jim Hughes, Falvey and Pears to name a few. This combination of youthful regulars and experienced volunteers proved to be a powerful one with just the right blend of youth, experience and dash.

The Commonwealth Division came into being on 28 July 1951 and, under Major General (later Field Marshal) Cassels, proved to be a remarkably fine formation of Australian, Canadian, New Zealand, Indian and British units. I believe all nations sent good people to represent them, but its outstanding personality was Cassels, an experienced and capable leader who inspired confidence in the soldiers of all five nations.

It was hoped that the formation of the Commonwealth Division would correct, in part anyway, an organisational weakness as it affected the five nations. There is a danger in sending, as Australia did, a single combat unit to a major war, particularly if it is fast moving and intense, as was the Korean War in 1950–51. Battalion commanders, such as Green and Ferguson, in the early stages of the war, had their hands full commanding their battalion in battle and had little time to assess whether their battalion was being sensibly employed, or to do much about its national logistic and personnel problems if they had concerns in those areas. Nor is the voice of one lieutenant colonel in a large army powerful enough. A more senior man is required in-country, not remote in Japan, as was the case until mid-1952. The loss of the Gloucesters was, in large part, due to misunderstanding at senior command level, even though in that case the Gloucesters were part of a British brigade. Other nations’ attitudes, tactics and techniques are not necessarily ours. We did not, for example, subscribe to the US Army’s frequent attack practice of ‘straight up the middle’, usually in daylight. Nor did we view kindly the sustaining of heavy casualties to gain or hold ground of no tactical value. We did not judge the worth of an action by the casualties we sustained, but aimed, by skill, to inflict maximum casualties while keeping ours down. During the early static phase of the Korean War only the combined efforts of all commanders in the Commonwealth Division, but notably Cassels, stopped the implementation of unacceptable US patrol tactics and the sending of men on useless raids ostensibly to maintain the offensive spirit. Offensive patrolling was, of course, essential. But it had to be well thought out and skilfully executed.

Most of these sort of problems were solved with the formation of the Commonwealth Division, but even with a most experienced and impartial commander such as Cassels, there is no guarantee that objectivity will be observed by all commanders and staff down the chain of command. I was relieved to learn, towards the end of my tour, that an Australian brigadier was to command the brigade. I make this perhaps uncharitable remark simply to illustrate that there were problems and that personality clashes are likely to be more prevalent in a multinational force.

The Commonwealth Division soon became a first-class fighting formation. It did demonstrate clearly the capacity of different nations to work together closely and efficiently in combat. Looking towards the future and the ever-increasing need for closer ties with our neighbours, the forging of defence links with them is a sound concept even to the extent of formation of multinational forces, as the UN force in Korea demonstrated.

In early October 1951, 3 RAR fought the biggest Australian battle of the Korean War. This was a continuous six-day attack on a strongly held hill feature, Hill 317, and its surrounding ridges. Later, this was described as the Battle of Maryang San. In this action 3 RAR, fighting over difficult terrain, destroyed two well-equipped Chinese battalions, driving them out of deeply entrenched positions, and withstood the subsequent heavy counterattack. Its losses were twenty KIA and 89 WIA, many from mortar and artillery fire. Being the last battle of this phase on the divisional front, this attack attracted much concentrated enemy fire. I remember getting illogically angry about this shelling which became so intense on the third and subsequent days, because to that point we had achieved much with relatively few casualties. But when above ground in attack infantry are vulnerable to shelling, and in this case counter-battery fire had little effect against well-dug-in enemy guns.

Details of this battle have been set down elsewhere. Suffice it for me to say that the divisional and brigade plans were good and I would not, if the situation occurred again, vary the battalion plan to any marked degree. We sought and achieved surprise by attacking from an unexpected direction using a night approach and capitalising on fog and mist. The supporting arms, notably the artillery, tanks, mortars and air, combined well as did the brigade administrative support with carrying parties bringing forward ammunition and taking out casualties.

In the final event, however, as so often happens, it was the skill and courage of the infantry that won the day. It was exhilarating to be involved and astonishing to watch the speed and ferocity of the attacking companies. As soon as the supporting fire lifted, they raced onto their objectives, often catching the enemy still sheltering at the bottom of his deep trenches, below the firing bays. Running along the top, shooting down into the trenches, they inflicted very heavy casualties. At our company, platoon and section levels, as one leader went down, another straightaway took his place. By any standards it was a dazzling performance and it was freely and widely acknowledged as such. One month later the Chinese came romping in and drove the defending battalion off 317. It remained thereafter in Chinese hands. Brigadier Rockingham, commanding the Canadian brigade, spoke to me after its loss and said, ‘We would never have lost it if the Australians had been there.’ Twenty-five years later, as CGS and a guest of the Korean Army, I viewed the ground again, and marvelled that one battalion could drive well-entrenched enemy from such strong positions, so well sited in difficult terrain. Several hundred young Korean officers were at this viewing and had the battle described to them by the corps chief of staff. From their remarks and expressions, I thought they were also somewhat impressed.

The view from the forward positions of Hill 355. The high ground on the skyline is Hill 317 (Maryang San) for which 28th Brigade and 3 RAR in particular fought hard in October 1951 during Operation Commando. The deep valley between this position on Hill 355 and Hill 317 was the scene of Operation Fauna in December 1952 (photo: Colonel E.J. Mulholland, MBE).

There is interest in the exercise of battalion command in battle, particularly for the Maryang San attack. The best tactical place for a battalion commander is, of course, where he can best influence the battle. Sometimes this will be forward, at other times, notably in defence, at his headquarters in the rear, where the information flow could be better.

There were particular command problems looming ahead for Maryang San. To begin with, 3 RAR had not carried out a battalion attack, for real or on exercise, since its arrival in Korea a year earlier. Nor could it be withdrawn from the line for attack training prior to the battle. There had been a wholesale replacement of key appointments in July–September—a complete change at Battalion Headquarters and all but one company commander were new. Thus the teamwork for a battalion attack had not been established. The battalion faced the challenge of a very long approach march over difficult, broken country, with open flanks, and then an assault to a depth of 3000 metres through strongly held, well-dug-in Chinese defences.

I have always worked on the basis that the key men in such situations, Battalion Headquarters apart, are the four rifle company commanders. It was these four who had not only to command their companies in dangerous situations but had also to give objective, reasoned judgements to enable me to control the battalion in the most effective way. I always chose good men in these appointments, and if I had to carry a weak officer somewhere, it was not as commander of a rifle company. Not that there were many leadership weaknesses in 3 RAR at that time. There was an abundance of good men, at all levels. My company commanders for this attack were Gerke, Nicholls, Hardiman and Shelton, the first two very experienced and the second two not so much at that stage.

In attack I sought to get my Tactical HQ well forward where I could observe the progress of the attacking companies. Thus I could assess the situation quickly and not have to spend time interpreting reports coming rearwards. Having my supporting arms commanders forward with me meant that they also were in absolute touch with events and we could prepare supporting fire plans very quickly. Peter Scott, the intelligence officer, looked after the group’s protection, the signal detachment, and so on, and also maintained contact with Brigade and Battalion Headquarters. Bill Keys, as adjutant, held the fort at Battalion Headquarters and left me free to handle the attack.

As an example of how it worked, in the first phase of Maryang San B Company (Nicholls) was to move through D Company (Hardiman) and take the final objective. But B Company, in that bewildering maze of hills and re-entrants, swung off-line and I had difficulty in getting it back on the main attack axis. Not wishing to lose momentum, I ordered B Company to stay put, as it was protecting an open flank. I then ordered my reserve company commander, Jack Gerke, who was with me watching the fight, to take on B Company’s original task. To illustrate just how easy it was for me, the orders were quick and simple and went something like this: ‘Jack, get your company over to that reverse slope behind D Company and when you see Jim (Lieutenant Jim Young, now acting B Company commander, Hardiman having been wounded) getting his next objective, race your company through and over 317. Bounce him off it.’ That was all an experienced company commander like Gerke needed. He knew that we would attend to the supporting fire and any administrative back-up tasks, and for the supporting fire the principals were with me and knew exactly what was going on. After a short coordination discussion they set about organising the tank, artillery, mortar and MMG supporting fire. This sort of set-up left me comparatively free to observe and think about the next moves.

I suppose as a team we really hit our straps on the fourth day of the attack, when we had secured our objectives but were taking a further feature which another battalion, attacking uphill from the valley floor, had not been able to secure. By this time we were the only attackers on the divisional front and had masses of supporting fire, all the divisional artillery and some heavier guns from corps, some 40 tanks firing over open sights and our own mortars and MMGs. The Tactical HQ team did its preliminary planning that night and at first light moved to the forward slopes of Hill 317 which afforded an excellent view of the objective and of the attacking company (B Company) some 400 metres across the valley. I had asked the brigade commander if he would control our air support and use it against the Chinese artillery and mortars which, by now were giving us a bad time. I discussed with Arthur Roxburgh, our NZ battery commander, the use of his artillery which, in essence, meant putting the medium guns (155s) on rear-area targets, after giving the objective a going over, with the 105s firing on the objective closer in to the attacking company. I asked George Butler, the 8th Irish Hussars tank commander, to take on the objective and to fill in the gap between the attacking company and the artillery supporting fire, firing solid shot towards the end. The MMGs were to support closer in again, traversing in front of B Company. The mortars were to take on the rear slopes.

The Tactical HQ went about its tasks happily and efficiently. Peter Scott kept Bill Keys in the picture and both kept Brigade Headquarters advised of progress.

In the event, I thought the objective would disintegrate from the weight of fire pouring into it. Nevertheless, the Chinese, sheltering on the reverse slope, rose up and gave B Company a hard time, inflicting a dozen casualties early in the attack. I sent a platoon of C Company to strengthen B Company and brought the Assault Pioneer and Anti-tank Platoons up to Hill 317 itself, against the likelihood of counterattacks which did, in fact, come in that night. I found the day particularly interesting, from the aspect of observing men of high morale going about their business under very heavy fire. To this point we had not thought much of the Chinese gunners, as they seemed to lack the flexibility and skill of our own highly efficient artillery. But they could all see Hill 317 sticking up pyramid shaped like a target marker, and every Chinese gun within range was firing at it. None of this seemed to fuss the men too much, though it was lively in the extreme. There was a lot of laughter, some of it nervous perhaps and adrenalin driven, when near misses whistled past to fall on D Company in the rear. There is always a perverse delight when others are getting stick also. We knew, however, that in this case D Company, which had performed so magnificently the day before, would now be four to five metres down in the captured Chinese trenches. Arthur Roxburgh was clearly enjoying having such a weight of artillery to control as was George Butler with his tanks. George had looked shattered when I told him to leave his tanks and come with me on foot, but he was in his element now. Jack Gerke, beside me, controlled the local defence. At one stage he said, ‘I am hit, Sir’, in what I thought were somewhat offended tones, as though it was unseemly for the Chinese to do this. Though wounded, he carried on in his imperturbable manner. Peter Scott chatted away to Bill Keys and the brigade major, telling them what was happening, thus saving me from being involved. Reg Saunders crouched beside his MMGs. I have always thought that it was on this occasion, in answer to the comment, ‘This is no place for a white man’, that he replied, ‘It’s no place for a bloody black man either’. I spent some time talking to Sergeant Strong, a mortarman with B Company who took over when the CSM of B Company was killed. As ‘Wings’ Nicholls had his hands full with the fight in progress, Strong gave me well-balanced information about the company’s progress, its casualties, ammunition state and so on. It was just another example of the initiative which is so commonplace with the Australian soldier.

I have made the foregoing comments in a dispassionate manner. This is the protective shield we all employ. No one likes to see his companions killed or wounded. I have said that I sent a platoon across to strengthen B Company. It was not easy for me to send men into that vicious fight, in the certain knowledge that some would be killed or wounded. Harder of course for the men involved. I have a vivid memory of telling John McWilliam, the platoon commander, killed a few weeks later, of his task. He stood straight and simply gave a composed ‘Yes, Sir’. It is fair to ask why he and his men would accept this task without demur. B Company’s objective was just another hill, even though it had tactical importance. John McWilliam was a first-class soldier. Perhaps the motivation was a combination of pride in himself and his platoon, or a wish to go to the aid of the hard-pressed B Company. Perhaps he, like many, was swept up in the spirit of the battalion, as it took one feature after another, driving the Chinese backwards. Perhaps it was a combination of all these things.

The brigade withdrew from the front line in late November 1951 after a hectic period of some twelve weeks. I had selected a quiet and secluded valley for our reserve position, but the weary soldiers found it difficult to unwind. The nervous tension of being subjected to constant bombardment and possible attack for a long period had taken its toll. The regimental medical officer reported cases of battle fatigue. It was a little time before the battalion regained its usual composure and became its cheerful, aggressive self.

The battalion then entered the early stages of the ‘static war’ which lasted for some two years. This was a hard, monotonous period of trench warfare of a First World War nature. It was a life of patrolling and raids, wiring, mining, of being constantly shelled and mortared and fighting off local enemy attacks which persisted until the very end of hostilities in July 1953. There was a steady build-up of casualties. It was dangerous, onerous and lacked the excitement of significant achievement. I thought this a more exacting period, particularly for junior leaders, than the more mobile phase of the first year of the war.

A static war suited the Chinese. They had fortitude, and they dug deep and well to the extent that their positions were almost impregnable to artillery fire. Over time, their patrolling, defensive fire and attacking skills reached a high level. It was an infantryman’s war and they had lots of infantry.

Australians have shown, in all their wars, that they patrol well. Patrolling in this static situation was particularly difficult. In general terms, the enemy was thoroughly entrenched about 800 metres or less across a narrow valley. Positions were mined and wired heavily. Patrol gaps became easily identified by wear in the summer or tracks in the winter snow, thus facilitating ambush. Both sides were able to call in artillery and mortar DF tasks quickly and accurately. Good patrolling called for well-conceived, imaginative planning, thorough briefings and rehearsal and determined, skilful execution. The patrols carried out by 3 RAR and the 28th Brigade as a whole over this two-year static period are well worth study. The battalion maintained the high standards set by Australian troops in previous wars. In some areas, the Chinese established control of ‘no-man’s-land’, dug in undetected, close to allied units’ wire, then launched surprise assaults. This never happened to Australian battalions. The Chinese were not allowed to ‘lean’ on our wire.

I was not alone in being somewhat restless about the static war. We were fighting the sort of war that suited our enemy. Our real skill and advantage lay in mobile operations, not in slugging it out, much on a man for man basis, against numerically superior Chinese infantry. At Maryang San 3 RAR had fought right through the Chinese forward defence and the opportunities for exploitation in rear areas were boundless. One realised that such operations as a UN drive to the Yalu were simply unrealistic, but the possibility of a more limited push to the shorter Pyongyang– Wonsan line seemed attractive. Well planned, with opportunity to capitalise on our greater skills in mobile warfare, this would have broken the deadlock and could have been highly rewarding. But, deep down, we all knew that with the peace talks going on at Panmunjom, no UN nation would accept the risk of further escalating the war. It is a soldier’s lot to accept the inevitable and do his best with the task in hand. This we did.

The Korean War can be divided into three broad phases: the mobile phase from June 1950 to about July 1951; the struggle for position to October 1951; and the static phase until the war’s end in July 1953. The principal event in the first phase was Kapyong. Kapyong had an air of Kipling’s ‘IF’. Surrounded by bewildered and demoralised allied units 3 RAR kept its head. It stood and fought, as good battalions should, when retreat and ‘bug out fever’ were rampant. Kapyong fittingly epitomises the Korean War as Anzac Day does the First World War.

In the manoeuvre for position phase Maryang San was notable. In terms of duration, intensity and casualties inflicted and sustained, it was Australia’s biggest battle since the Second World War. Dr O’Neill, the official historian, was right when he wrote: ‘In this action, 3 RAR won one of the most impressive victories achieved by any Australian battalion.’

In terms of constant strain, discomfort, hard slugging and bitter fighting for little tangible result, the static war from late 1951 to the very end in July 1953 was probably the most demanding and least recognised phase of the Korean War. Despite PR efforts there was much public indifference and ignorance during this period of the war. Despite all this, morale remained high and our battalions continued to fight aggressively and well, a tribute not only to the soldiers but also to the fine leadership shown at all levels.

In this war, as in every war, it was upon the infantry that the greatest burden of battle fell. The regiment fought in Korea from October 1950 until July 1953, in the case of 3 RAR for the entire period. In terms of close contact with the enemy, this would be longer than any formation in the Second World War, since the pattern then was such that there were substantial time gaps between the various campaigns.

Our battalions in Korea were, discernibly, highly regarded by other nations. Despite many frustrations, they fought in a good cause, as demonstrated by the gratitude that South Koreans still display for the salvation of their country more than 30 years ago.

I have been asked to rate my time as commanding officer of 3 RAR with other appointments I have held in long years of service. My view of the infantry soldier is summarised by the British Army Field Service Regulations of 1925 which stated: ‘Let us remember three facts. First, all wars are won in the end by the infantryman. Secondly, the infantryman always bears the brunt. Thirdly, the art of the infantryman is less stereotyped and far harder to acquire in modern war that that of any other arm.’ This is as true today as it was in 1925. Irrespective of any rank or honours one might win, to be a good infantryman is an achievement in itself. If you can join a group of proven infantry soldiers, and be accepted as one of them, then you have come a long way in your soldiering career.

To be the commander of 3 RAR at such a time was a great but humbling experience. There are always others, of whatever rank, whose performance will fill you with admiration, even envy.

Although I subsequently held many senior appointments, I do not recall any that gave me quite the satisfaction I felt when commanding 3 RAR. And the experience gained was a major factor in my approach to the senior appointments I was to hold over the next 25 years.

Lieutenant General David Hurley, AO, DSC (for the 2008 edition)

My membership of the regiment has occurred at a time in which the regiment has moved in full circle: from the early 1970s when the regiment had just completed a period of over twenty years of continuous operational service, through a period in the late 1970s and throughout the 1980s when no operations were conducted, to today when once again the regiment is deployed on numerous operations around the world. My experiences are marked by the legacy of the regiment’s Vietnam service, a long period of training and exercising and the conduct of our first battalion deployment for twenty years.

Mick McDermott was my first company commander when I joined 1 RAR at the beginning of 1976. Mick and the senior leadership of the company were all Vietnam veterans. My platoon sergeant and section commanders were Vietnam veterans. You could not have asked for a better environment in which to begin your infantry career.

1 RAR in 1976–77 was a battalion in transition. Many of its members were making the transition from war to peace. Tactically we were moving from irregular warfare to conventional infantry operations: digging battalion defensive positions, conducting advance to contact and so forth. Our training was a rich mixture of applying experience and meeting new challenges. We seemed to have a battalion exercise once a month as we worked our way through the phases of war.

I recall our commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Kim Patterson, expressing his disgust with the standard of our platoon attacks after one exercise. The next month the battalion deployed to High Range and we spent the week advancing, in column, up and down the range conducting platoon attacks off the line of march. Conduct your attack, move to the rear of the battalion and cycle to the front again. By the end of the week we had platoon attacks under control!

Full strength platoons were not the norm—we were still building up after the end of national service and I recall conducting one exercise with just my platoon headquarters and three gun groups. We disbanded A Company in 1977 and turned it into an IET training company. When it had completed its task we then did the same with D Company.

My major exercise during the period was Kangaroo 2 (yes, they were numbered then!) at Shoalwater Bay—very much a conventional warfare exercise with hills to attack and occupy. I still chuckle at the decision to relocate the battalion after the first position we occupied proved so easy to dig in that we had reached at least Stage 2 in a few hours. ‘Fill in pits, pack up and move to a rockier location’ summed up the orders.

One of my funniest recollections of that time was when Mick Silverstone hid the duty officer’s cane—to save us the drudgery of cane drill—and then presented it to the departing brigade commander when he was being farewelled from our mess as a gift from the subalterns. Jim Connolly, our second-in-command, grabbed me as the senior subaltern and gave me clear instructions that the cane was not to leave the mess. Some poor excuses to the brigadier that evening, a whip around of the hat by the subbies and a few weeks later I presented the brigade commander with a brand new cane—I hope he appreciated it.

My memories of being a foot soldier in the Big Blue One are still amongst my fondest, though they were in complete contrast to my next battalion posting as a company commander and operations officer in 5/7 RAR. I didn’t serve as a captain in the regiment as I was on exchange for two years with the Irish Guards in Germany. The Micks were a mechanised battalion in the 4th Armoured Brigade working alongside 17th/21st Lancers and Queen’s Royal Irish Hussars as the I (British) Corps corps reserve. I spent sleepless nights wondering about the wisdom of counterattacking a Soviet breakthrough in an Irish regiment in the company of two tank regiments which between them were the descendants of four of the five regiments that took part in the Charge of the Light Brigade!

My experience with mechanised operations meant that 5/7 RAR was for me when I returned. I was lucky enough to serve under Peter McGuiness and John Jones—strongly contrasting characters but both excellent teachers and role models as COs. The battalion was under strength but we managed to conduct some excellent training and converted successfully to being a mechanised battalion.

I commanded Support Company in 1984, the year the battalion received its full allocation of APCs. As a result we knew Puckapunyal well. This was a difficult time as we began to learn how to manage the various training demands of maintaining infantry skills and also training leaders and soldiers in the maintenance and support of a large armoured vehicle fleet. It was an interesting challenge to train the specialist platoons so that they could see how their combined efforts supported the conduct of battalion operations and how their manoeuvre and selection of ground could greatly influence outcomes. We achieved this by conducting skeleton exercises at Pucka where we practised our manoeuvre around a ‘virtual’ battalion group.

As with each posting a particular event stands out. In 1984 I badly tore the medial ligament of my knee while playing rugby for the company in the Holsworthy minor units competition. After surgery I was in plaster from hip to toe. This coincided with my company’s deployment to Tully for jungle training. As it was the first 5/7 RAR company to train at Tully for a number of years, Peter McGuiness was keen that it go well to demonstrate that mech soldiers were as good in the bush as light soldiers. I was told that despite my cast I would deploy. Imagine the sight as the Caribou landed at Tully strip; my soldiers deployed from the aircraft and then four of them put down their kit, ran back to the plane to assist a white leg that was gradually easing itself off the ramp. All I can say is that working in Tully while in plaster does not have much going for it!

I was not sure where my career would go after 5/7 RAR. I had a foot in both camps should I be lucky enough to be considered for command of a battalion. After leaving 5/7 RAR I had also served a year with 19th Battalion, Royal Malay Regiment in Sungei Petani, helping it to transition to a mechanised battalion. I doubted that I would be asked to carry a pack again. So I was somewhat surprised when I was selected to command 1 RAR in 1992.

Service in Townsville had changed considerably since last I was there. The operational deployment force concept had been introduced and reached a mature stage. A major emphasis was placed on preparedness states and the ability to deploy at short notice. The two Townsville battalions were now on an annual ‘online’ rotation. Many senior soldiers had served for ten or more years in the battalion or in Townsville—a far cry from 1976–77.

The year began with the conduct of Exercise Kangaroo 92 in February and March, designed to test the ADF’s ability to conduct operations in northern Australia during the wet season. A pity for the exercise organisers that it didn’t rain, but great for us! Our major task on the exercise was to conduct an amphibious landing on Melville Island in support of a brigade airborne operation launched from Darwin. The brigade was then to clear and secure the island by exercise end. Suffice to say that joint planning at that time was not as good as it could have been. Within six hours of the brigade arriving it had redeployed, leaving 1 RAR to conduct the brigade task within the next 48 hours. We left the exercise somewhat chastened as we had been forced to cut too many corners to achieve the exercise aims. One experience most of us will not forget, though, is being choppered into large LZs only to discover the real meaning of sedge lands.

The remainder of 1992 took an unusual twist as we began to concentrate on the conduct of service-protected evacuations and techniques suited to operations other than war. This did not sit well with many of the battalion who saw it as step back from their warfighting purpose. Perhaps prophetically during discussions on these concerns I often stated that we were more likely to be deployed to conduct peace operations than to go to war.

In early December 1992, just prior to annual leave, the brigade commander, Mick Keating, and I sat down to discuss the likelihood of a deployment to Somalia for the battalion over Christmas leave and therefore whether or not to send the majority of soldiers on leave. In our combined wisdom we decided that nothing was likely to happen and despatched all but the online company on leave. Within a week I had issued recall orders and on Christmas eve A Company deployed to Somalia.

Bob Breen’s book, A Little Bit of Hope, provides an excellent history of the battalion’s operations in Somalia, the interplay of personalities and the operational outcomes. There can be no doubt that the training we conducted in 1992 prepared us well for the task of restoring security and assisting with the provision of humanitarian aid. In simple terms we reversed the tactical flow evident in SPE operations—rather than establishing temporary centres to collect evacuees and a rearward flow to departure points, we used the same system to establish aid distribution points and funnelled aid from Mogadishu outwards. Our training in Rules of Engagement and Orders For Opening Fire, and a concentration on how to deal with ‘neutrals’ in the AO, also paid off handsomely.

Lieutenant Colonel David Hurley (left), commander of the 1 RAR Battalion Group, escorts a member of a parliamentary tour to Somalia through Ufurow, about 40 kilometres east of Baidoa, in April 1993. Other members of the battalion group provide security and local children accompany them (AWM photo no. MSU/93/0216/10).

The battalion performed well in Somalia—it was able to conduct aggressive operations yet at the same time show a humane face. It learned how to conduct civil–military operations in a manner that set the standard for the broader US-led operation. A tribute to its success was the presentation of a medallion to the battalion group by the combined leadership of the NGOs operating in its AO in recognition of its efforts—the first time that any of the NGOs had acknowledged a military force for its support.

As I reflect on our service in Somalia two aspects remain strongest in my mind. The first is of my experience of command on operations. I make no bones about the fact that I made mistakes—thankfully none that resulted in loss of life—and that I learned from them. I also learned about the ‘loneliness of command’, a somewhat hackneyed phrase these days, but for me a reality. There were times in which the tensions and pressures I felt were almost physical. Over time my world grew smaller and whatever did not relate to what we were doing became irrelevant and was disregarded. The mundane was quickly dismissed. Others often considered what I classed as ‘mundane’ important, and my attitude was at times an annoyance to my superiors. It took some time after returning to regain a broader perspective and indeed to tolerate what had been considered irritants while we were on operations. Many experiences teach you about yourself, none of them are better teachers than command.

My second reflection is on my (our) soldiers. As a commander you need to be prepared for a wide breadth of behaviour, from brilliant adaptation and initiative to acts without sensitivity or sense. They can be your pride and joy, or cause you to lift your eyes to the heavens and wonder ‘why?’ Our soldiers are demanding to command and uncompromising in their keen sense of what is fair treatment and what is not. Keeping the lines of communication open to them is critical, otherwise rumour and misunderstanding can rapidly change perceptions and attitudes. They will certainly challenge your ego and professional ability but rightly so—you have their future in your hands. I think it was Murray Blake who said to me that they are the most demanding soldiers in the world to command but worth every minute of the effort.

It is a sad day when you realise that your days of soldiering in the regiment are done. I have been lucky to maintain contact with its battalions as both Commander 1st Brigade and as Land Commander. In both appointments I was privileged to prepare, deploy and visit battalions on operations: 5/7 RAR in East Timor and 1 RAR in the Solomon Islands. Both of these battalions continued to display the regiment’s ability to conduct multifaceted operations in an assured manner that underpinned successful outcomes. The same approach is evident today in Iraq, Afghanistan, East Timor and the Solomon Islands.

It has been a privilege to have served through such a long and successful period in the regiment’s history.

Warrant Officer Class 1 Harry Smith, Meeting the New Commanding Officer (from the 1990 edition)

I remember when a particular officer was appointed as commanding officer of X Battalion of the Royal Australian Regiment; he marched into the battalion and of course it is the custom to conduct an inaugural parade in his honour.

Prior to the parade ‘furphies’ began to circulate around the battalion: ‘you better be on the ball, mate, this bloody joker can spot a piece of frayed cotton at 100 metres’, ‘I know a bloke who reckons he can tell what coloured socks you are wearing by looking through your jungle greens’ and ‘the old bastard has got eyes in the back of his head so don’t move an eyelid’, and so the tales went on.

When the great day arrived we had section, platoon and company inspections and each soldier was given a microscopic inspection. Eventually, under the command of the regimental sergeant major, we were marched onto the regimental parade ground, with six CSMs barking, snapping and snarling at our heels. Occasionally the RSM would shout ‘That man’s bludging, take his name, CSM.’

After being told in no uncertain terms that we were the worst drilled, most scruffy and laziest mob the RSM had seen in his 35 years in the army, the parade was handed over to the adjutant. In fifteen seconds flat the adjutant had handed over to the battalion second-in-command, who would have looked more at home on a golf course than a parade ground. To me this would be the highlight of the parade because the second-in-command was responsible for the posting of officers.

At this stage of the proceedings anything could happen and generally did. Some officers had chin straps on the wrong side, the doctor had his shoulder strap on the wrong side, some swords were slung in the Wyatt Earp position, while others dragged along the ground.

The second-in-comand gave the command ‘Officers, draw swords’ and out of the corner of my eye I looked on in wonderment. This drill movement should be carried out in swift, graceful, flowing movements. I could not understand how they managed this movement without the loss of life, swords were everywhere and any resemblance to the drill movement in the manual was purely coincidental. As the QM whipped out his sword it came close to decapitating the padre, who stood to attention and did not flinch; however, his eyes were turned in a skyward direction looking for protection, his lips were moving in silent prayer. ‘Officers, take post’ followed.

The younger officers took off like Bondi trams; the more senior officers strolled along at their own leisurely pace, while others ignored the drum beat and marched out of step. After a few left and right turns everyone wound up in the right position much to the relief of the RSM who had been puffing and blowing for the last ten minutes. The second-in-command ordered a general salute and handed over to the new CO.

The CO stood front and centre, a lone figure in front of 600 men. His eyes flicked up and down the ranks, he did not move, nor say a word. There was a deafening silence for nearly three minutes, as the CO took all in but said nothing. I thought the old bastard has lost his voice. The drum major in panic screamed in a rather squeaky voice ‘Band ready’, there was a clattering of musical instruments, followed by a few more minutes of silence and inactivity. Then it came, the commanding officer’s first command: ‘X Battalion . . . the Royal Australian Regiment . . . sit down.’

The command was followed by five minutes of utter bloody confusion. Officers turned about, the band gave a general salute, some officers returned swords. Meanwhile the rest of the battalion was not sure what was required of them. Some adopted the shoulder arms position, others stood at ease, some grounded arms, while others formed two deep. Some just scratched their heads and other parts in bloody amazement. Very few sat down because no one had ever heard that command given on a regimental parade ground.

It was only the quick action of the RSM that restored order. ‘What’s wrong with you bloody “Pelicans”?’ Pause. ‘Deaf? Can’t you understand the Queen’s Bloody English? Sit down—sit down before I knock you down.’

As the RSM flashed past diggers slumped to the ground, I heard him mutter ‘Wake me up, someone, wake me up, I’m having a bloody nightmare.’

After five minutes of sheer pandemonium, we all sat down on the gravel parade ground in our you-beaut starched and ironed greens. Our new CO with a big cheesy grin on his face, moved from company to company inspecting our boots to ensure they were in good repair and no studs were missing.

So if any of you young Digs hear us old Diggers calling a retired general ‘Boots’ next Anzac Day, you know where he got the nickname.

[The new commanding officer was W.G. Henderson, who took command of 2 RAR on 5 November 1957, soon after the battalion returned from Malaya.]

Warrant Officer Class 1 Wally Thompson, OAM (from the 1990 edition)

Over my years in the regiment there have not only been many personalities and many humorous incidents, but a lot of history and enormous changes. For instance, when I joined in 1954, the enlistment period for the majority was a six-year engagement. The training was for limited warfare for operations in Korea and emphasised skills such as defence routine and fighting patrols. During this period there were no functional commands and all infantry corps training was conducted at Ingleburn at 4 RAR (Depot Battalion), which was in itself a training unit.

Trucks were a rare sight at this time. We would march to and from our training area, which was Ingleburn to Broken Bridge (now Holsworthy Training Area). The longest march was from Tianjara (near Nowra) to Ingleburn. Obviously foot hygiene was high on our list of priorities. The use of Condy’s crystals for foot baths to harden our feet made us purple-footed soldiers.

Leave was not automatic on Saturday. Saturday mornings were spent doing ‘make and mend’, area maintenance or a battalion parade followed by church parade. Even then leave only came if we passed inspection. Uniform was KDs with RAR flash, black shoes and a correct bash in our slouch hat. (Our company was ‘Archie Dennis’ bash.)

Although I was on posting to Japan (Korea) my posting orders were changed and I joined 2 RAR, which was warned out to become part of 28th Commonwealth Independent Infantry Brigade Group, which was to be part of the British Commonwealth Far East Strategic Reserve. This was the period of the domino theory: communists were expected to overrun the countries of South-East Asia.

Enoggera, where 2 RAR was based at this time, was considered to be our premier barracks for infantry battalions. It not only had its own close-training area, but also a rifle range. The emphasis in training was now switched to jungle techniques. The battalion had a major role in the reopening of the Jungle Training Centre (now the Land Warfare Centre). We not only helped rebuild the centre, but were the first troops to be trained at it.

2 RAR marches past the City Hall, Brisbane on 28 September 1955 following the presentation of their colours by the Governor-General, Field Marshal Sir William Slim (AWM photo no. ELL/113A/NC).

Prior to our departure for Malaya we received our colours from Field Marshal Slim, being the first battalion of the RAR to do so. We paraded through the Brisbane streets in summer in ceremonial blues. Our tracker dogs were also on parade.

We sailed to Malaya in SS Georgic in October 1955, arriving in KDs. We were issued with British clothing and equipment, a new style of webbing (1944 pattern), the jungle boot, which had rubber soles and canvas tops, and hockey boots to wear at night to allow feet to air. This was our introduction to the bush hat, which many people incorrectly think was of Australian origin.

Our platoon weapons included the Bren gun, the Owen gun, the British No. 5 Short Barrelled Lee-Enfield rifle (jungle carbine) and a shotgun, used by one of the scouts. We also had the Ml carbine and carried M36 and No. 80 WP grenades. Later we were issued with the then new 7.62 mm SLR, one per section, for familiarisation.

With this hotchpotch of weapons, we had constant bush work, which concentrated mainly in company AOs, moving into platoon patrol bases and section patrols. Operating in primary jungle with a hostile enemy for the first time can be quite frightening. During the day the only animals one would usually disturb would be monkeys and when disturbed they are very noisy and clumsy in their movement. Otherwise the day was very quiet, making movement very cautious and slow.

But approaching last light the jungle comes alive with every conceivable noise. Thousands of insects (or so it seems), including ‘the dreaded mossie’, swarm to attack any unprotected portion of the body. Large and small animals make their way towards the water and to search out food. These animals do not move as quietly as one is led to believe. This contrast of noise lasts until just after last light when the fireflies become visible. Then the absolute blackness descends upon you, broken only by the continuous crescendo of chirps, whistles, hoots and shrieks. This noise, however, did not deter one from sleeping—a sleep induced by the utter exhaustion from the day’s patrolling, which made one oblivious to the possibility of being bitten by a scorpion, centipede, snake, spider or countless other creepy-crawlies.

In retrospect, I believe the one main flaw in our training was that we did not attend the FARELF Jungle Warfare School. Although Canungra gave us training in jungle techniques, it did not include the type of operations we were to encounter against CTs.

The diggers of this period were generally older than present-day soldiers. In our platoon, we had two Second World War diggers and a large number of Korean veterans, and in many cases they were not interested in attaining rank. This gave the younger soldier, who was willing to accept the challenge, the opportunity to gain rank more quickly. This period produced extremely capable, competent and professional junior NCOs, who could look after their sections in isolation and who became experts in patrolling and navigation. These young soldiers went on to become the nucleus and solid base of our expansion for the later conflict in Vietnam.

As well as 44 pattern equipment, we were issued with 1/2 tents and lightweight blankets, and these produced a great variety of sleeping arrangements. Copying from the CTs, we produced plastic tents; Li-Los were brought to keep us up off the ground and parachute resupplies (although parachutes were accountable there was always one damaged) often became lightweight sleeping bags. Equipment used today is the result of some of these ideas.

During the Malayan Emergency we were not only involved in intensive patrolling operations, but also took part in ‘food denials’ to the local population. This involved gate checks of locals and vehicles and was not a task enjoyed by the soldiers, who considered it more a police action than a military duty.

During this time the Australian soldier was first introduced to rice and curry powder in his ration pack. These packs had a breakfast and light lunch to be eaten on patrol and the main meal in the evening, when time was available to cook the rice. Many soldiers soon began to complement these meals with onions and potatoes. When one visiting British officer asked a digger how he cooked his midday meal, the reply was ‘Who ever heard of cooking a bloody Mars Bar?’ On another occasion, a visiting VIP, when enquiring about our rations, asked the question, replied and concurred with his own reply saying ‘How’s the grub’, ‘Grub good?’, ‘That’s good’ and then moved onto the next group without waiting for a reply.

It was impressed upon us that we were not only soldiers but ambassadors of our country and that being the case, very strict, and unreasonable restrictions were placed on the soldier when he was on leave. There were the normal ‘out-of-bounds’ areas which were clearly signposted, and naturally were immediately ignored by all.

It was a chargeable offence to ride in a trishaw and many were charged. With the going down of the sun, sleeves must come down and a tie be worn—rather alien to most Australian soldiers. The reason given—an anti-malarial precaution!

To many of us this was our first introduction to ‘Taxi Dances’. This was where one bought tickets to dance with a lady of your choice. The most popular of these establishments were the Piccadilly and City Lights. Penang being a busy port, the merchant seamen from all nations did not always take kindly to sharing the Taxi Dance girls. This naturally led to a number of incidents (brawls). There was also the Garrison Club, which was run by NAAFI and was similar to present-day canteens, or if one desired a more lively atmosphere, there was always the Boston Bar or the Green Parrot.

It was 2 RAR’s duty to mount the first Australian guard on the Commander-in-Chief ’s residence in Singapore since the Second World War. The ceremonial dress was slouch hat, green shirt, green shorts, and ‘boots AB’ with puttees. The day prior to mounting the guard we were informed that we would be taking over from a Gurkha battalion, which used Light Infantry drill. Language was also a problem. As guard corporal, I was led off by the Gurkha corporal, with a bugler and piper at the Light Infantry pace, and almost galloped to the sentry post. The orders for the sentries, which included the handing over of live ammunition, was the next problem. As I had no knowledge of Gurkhali and the Gurkha corporal had little or no English, good soldiering commonsense prevailed and ‘the show went on’. Later we were complimented by the general’s staff on the smooth handover. If only they knew the subdued panic of the two corporals involved.

The C-in-C guard was accommodated at Tanglin Barracks whilst in Singapore. On arrival we were confronted by the sight of people burning paper under metal beds. On enquiring as to what was happening, we were informed by a British colour sergeant that it was to ‘get rid of bed bugs’.

An incident that comes to mind during this guard happened when some of the guard returning from the canteen decided to cool off in the pool (which was closed). Having scaled the fence they were enjoying a cool dip, when they were rudely interrupted by the garrison police and ordered to vacate the pool immediately. The swimmers refused to obey this order until the lights were turned on to help them locate a valuable item, lost by one of their members. On recovery of this item they left the pool, thanked the garrison police for their cooperation and one digger in particular, with a toothy grin, said: ‘Yes, we found ’em—me teeth.’

Mail, as always, is enormously important to all soldiers. One digger who received no mail rectified his problem in a unique way. He sent a photo (not his own) to a Sydney paper saying, ‘this lonely soldier in Malaya is longing for mail from the Fair Sex’, and enclosed his own regimental particulars. The response was overwhelming and mail started to arrive by the bagload, which caused problems for the rest of the company as only a limited amount of mail could be delivered to the company base. This problem resolved itself as he was only able to reply to a select few.

This was a unique period for the army; to be on operational service and accompanied by families. Although the battalion carried out extensive operations, there were also many ceremonial activities including Malayan Independence, food denial operations and general activities such as sports carnivals. This gave all those involved a very broad brush of all types of soldiering activities in an overseas country.

On return to Australia 2 RAR joined with 1 RAR and became part of the newly formed 1st Infantry Brigade Group stationed at Holsworthy. The training now turned to limited warfare, which involved mostly advance to contact, with section, platoon and company attacks. We went through a great deal of change: in establishment to the pentropic organisation; and in weapons to 7.62 mm SLR and M60 MG. We changed to the US-type steel helmet. For the first time we were issued with jungle greens and gaiters, which we blackened (in my case) to identify 2 RAR, which had black lanyards. Besides boots AB for field work, we were issued with boots ‘Tropical Studded’. These had to be blackened with raven oil, as they were reddish tan in their original colour. The 37 pack was still in use with horseshoe roll. This was the start of large exercises. The emphasis was still on endurance and the ability of units being able to advance as a company group over long distances on foot, in many cases carrying support company weapons and simulated ammunition.

This period saw a revival of knowledge of heat-related problems from sunburn to dehydration and death. There was an incorrect use of salt tablets and the realisation that soldiers needed a greater daily intake of water, thus disproving the old idea of one water bottle per day. At Holsworthy in the 1960s companies were fortunate in that they had access to excellent adjacent training areas, which were available to them when needed.

Among the varied ceremonial activities was the constant mounting of the Victoria Barracks guard. The dress for this guard was ‘Blues’ pith helmet, and chain mail chinstrap. Clips in the helmet to attach the chinstrap were usually missing. To overcome this problem the chinstrap was normally tied to the helmet with string. On one guard change, a member of the guard’s helmet blew off, revealing his chinstrap attached to his head by string—not to the helmet. This was one guard that brought appreciation and loud applause from the spectators. During this period—late 1950s, early 1960s—the majority of soldiers lived in barracks and very few possessed cars. This meant that social activities centred around unit canteens and the local area. I well remember the distinctive leave pass of 2 RAR—a small black card embossed with the regimental badge which not only gave leave timing and contact numbers if required, but a bold statement ‘The Honour of the Regiment is in your Hands’.

The early morning rush at the village gates. Members of 2 RAR check rubber tappers and workers as they leave a village in the Kuala Kangsar–Sungei Siput district, Perak, northern Malaya. Implementing their role of food denial, the battalion ensured that no illegal food or supplies were obtained by the communists (AWM photo no. HOB/769/MC).

Being warned out for our return to Malaya brought about a number of hastily conceived weddings, when a girl was prepared to marry a soldier just to get a trip to Malaya and receive the marriage allowance, which at that time was paid to all service wives. These weddings were commonly dubbed ‘fish and chip’ weddings. What the bride did not realise was that she was under a very strict code of conduct, and if that code was breeched she was immediately sent home by the service authorities. Contrary to what many people thought, many of these marriages succeeded.

The period I spent as CSM C Company, 1 RAR in 1968, I personally feel, was the coming together of all my previous experiences and training. A company is small enough for one to have a personal contact with all members, including attachments. To be available at all times to advise, assist, support and encourage in whatever capacity the circumstances needed is truly a most rewarding position. This experience, I would consider, had the most dramatic effect on me and my future outlook on the army, with the belief that we as a small army must have extremely competent sub-units, to have effective battalions and higher formations.

On the voyage to and from South Vietnam in HMAS Sydney the soldiers developed a great rapport with the ship’s company. In particular, I and many others have great respect for the manner in which leading seamen (‘Ship’s Daddies’) carried out their duties. These seamen had a remarkable relaxing influence on the young soldiers, who were naturally very tense and anxious at the prospect of service in South Vietnam. On the way home they helped in the all-important unwinding process.

I was greatly honoured to be appointed RSM 4 RAR in 1970, just prior to its return to South Vietnam, second tour. By nature of the appointment one is more removed from the close contact of the soldiers which I enjoyed so much as CSM. This was compensated by the overview of the battalion as a whole and so was able to have contact with all members of the battalion and be involved in the many facets of battalion life.

During the South Vietnam conflict, 4 RAR became an integrated ANZAC battalion with the title 4 RAR/NZ (ANZAC) Battalion. This tour was shortened by the withdrawal announced in September 1971. The battalion ceased forward operations and became responsible for the defence of the entire task force area on their withdrawal from Nui Dat. We remained as a battalion group for approximately one month before moving into Vung Tau. This was a very difficult period for the battalion group as we were located in different areas but tried to maintain our unit identity as much as possible by sporting activities, parades and memorial services, culminating in the final farewell parade reviewed by General Abrams.

The Vietnam experience was unique in the regiment’s history, as it was the first time that national servicemen saw active service totally integrated into all battalions of the regiment. It was a sad day for all members of 4 RAR when national service was abolished. At this point their withdrawal was a big loss to the unit. This was soon followed by the announcement of the reduction of the number of battalions in the regiment from nine to six.

As 4 RAR and 2 RAR were the first to link, we had to ensure the linking was a success and the formation of the new battalion, 2/4 RAR, was given every opportunity to succeed. This involved many decisions such as appointments—both regimental and messes. There were traditions to be upheld, involving the design of a new lanyard and the production of the unit sign, but most important was the actual linking parade and the final farewell with dignity of those not continuing into the new battalion. With the linking of 2/4 RAR, this was to be my last posting within the regiment, although with my remaining army service, culminating with my appointment as RSM of the Army, I always had close contact with the battalions.