Chapter 11

Interlude

As a young 17 year olds and full of shit we were beyond a doubt the naughtiest bunch of reprobates ever. We were in excellent physical condition and most of us had experience of camping and being "in the bush". The equipment we were issued was ex 2^nd world war and was really a pain in the arse ... The webbing looked good but one 120 mile walk at the end of our time in training troop proved it was totally inadequate ... All the pouches were slip on and after the first day of walking hard with full kit, sweating up a storm and getting wet in a river, it all fell apart ... Seriously horrible and uncomfortable web belt that twisted up into a rope that cut your hips apart and water bottles that dangled down and banged on your arse ... The pack was a bag that had 2 straps sewed on that cut in to your shoulders like a bloody knife ... No we did not have H frame packs yet ... they had only just been designed and only the snobs at SAS used them ... That walk and the last few weeks of training troop in the C.O.I.N. phase of training made me realize that huge steps had to be made in my comfort levels or I would have a shit time in the Commando...

We had a cobbler that floated around the Battalion fixing boots and re-treading them with cut up Dunlop SP49 tyre treads ... don't laugh, car tyre makes the best boot soles out ... I grabbed hold of the old man on my leave before joining the commando and he just grinned at me and got my waist measurement ... I handed over my webbing to him and gave him my deadline and went out on the town for my last 5 days of freedom...

That first leave was one that I will never forget ... I had a brilliant girlfriend that really took me in hand and looked out for me ... Very sports orientated she was the countries number 1 junior squash player and number four women's player ... Shit she wiped the floor with me ... not that I was bad but Ali was in a class of her own much like our Ladies number one who stayed at number one for many years ... That break was good fun and a great time was had by all except for me on my second last day ... I rode a Yamaha 250 scrambler that for its time was damn quick ... I was on my way back to Camp when I was wiped out by a little old lady in a Morris Minor ... Shit, Shit Shit!!!!! ... To understand you must remember this was 1974 – all major intersections were controlled by a policeman, smartly turned out in Karki with highly polished leggings and white gloves directing traffic, standing on his trusty elevated platform ... These guys knew their intersections as they stood there during traffic hour every morning and afternoon of the year ... I was about 10 cars back in the middle of the road when he put his hand up to stop the crossing traffic and as he pointed to the first car in our row I took off ... By the time the first car started rolling I was already through half my gearbox and passing into the intersection when a dirty blue lump of Morry appeared in front of me ... I T boned that car smack in the driver's door and the car behind me smacked in to my poor scooter ... Luckily I pushed off from the pegs so I described a really wonderful double somersault complete with several twists just missing poor plod on his platform ... My landing was not a great success as I left a yard or two of spare skin and meat on the road ... I stood up, with my bare arse hanging out of my torn combat longs (BDU's) and stormed over to the offending Morry, ripped the door open to find some ones old, tiny, shrivelled Granny sitting there peering over the steering wheel crying her eyes out as she was now late for her bridge game ... I just burst out laughing and sat down on the cops platform ... Cop thought I was nuts ... What an absolute mess...

Way back then was a totally different set of values ... Everything was stopped and people actually cared about everybody around them ... I was given a lift to the camp hospital where my roasties were treated and I missed the guys going to the bush as I was given another 2 weeks sick leave ... Mind you I was not impressed with how the Quack treated me ... I was held down while they took a scrubbing brush to my arse with carbolic soap – well that is what it felt like ... Man it was sore ... So my introduction in to the Battalion as a supposed trained soldier was a little delayed...

Those early years in the Battalion are difficult to describe ... We were still a good fighting unit but still developing as a really effective unit. Fire force was only just a concept at this stage and we were still mainly a patrol and seek type unit ... Patrols and OP's were the rule of the day and shit we had fun...

Fire Force fun

Those early days of Suport Group in Fire Force were fun but a steep learning curve ... After Vawns tragic accident we were all a little down as he had been a great friend and comrade ... We were still woefully short of men but training troop was starting to trickle more in ... One of the biggest problems was that in the early days of the Battalion you couldn't go directly to Support woithout spending time in the commandos first ... We were now getting guys direct from training troop and luckily most of the older troops welcomed the new guys ... From that fatefull day we rotated back to patrols & OP's in the rural area and every 4^th bush trip we were in on FF ... this gave us a chance to break the new guys in and form up as a new unit ... Our long absence from Darwin, then the only FF base, saw many changes when we returned as we now had barrack rooms and offices all constructed from Galvanized sheet on frame on concrete slabs ... In a Rhody summer this was not pleasant in the heat and I remained in my corner bunker with my MAG ... Sgt Vancy refused to let anyone else carry a gun in his stick as I was it ... However that FF trip we lost Sgt Vance to SS and I started to experience other operators ... We didn't have good NCO's at that stage and a lot of the leadership was coming from the youngsters just joining ... We had a couple of good guys but we soon lost them to SS...