ASCO's Pay Plans

Twelve dollars a week won’t get you anywhere today. Back in 1967, as a first year RAAF apprentice, that was what we were paid, and it didn’t go much further back then.

Not that our needs were great - our meals and board were provided for a small deduction from our pay, and we were issued with our uniforms and overalls. During our first six weeks we were confined to Base. After that we were allowed into town, but only on Friday after stand down, Saturday and Sunday with strict curfews of 2200 or 2300 hours. So we needed money for the little luxuries - and, of course, entertainment.

These were primitive days. No Ipads, internet, Facebook. There may have been a black and white TV set in the Apprentice Club, but we had none in barracks. My communication with the world outside the Base was via my National Panasonic 8 transistor radio. This was a Christmas present from Mum and Dad and in those days I am sure it must have been rather expensive for them. Dad’s brother-in-law, Uncle Stan, had helped ease the pain by buying it cheaper in Sydney than was possible on the Clarence.

The only radio station that gave anything like reasonable reception was 2WG. This brought a mix of news, sport, weather and other topics of interest to the region. Sixteen year old RAAF apprentices did not however have a passion for all the news of sheep and cattle sales and other matters of interest to the agricultural community. I do however remember listening to a Rugby League test between Australia and England on their shores at some obscene hour of the morning.

That’s where ASCO - the Australian Services Canteen Organisation - came to the rescue. As well as providing an on-base canteen service with things like milkshakes, burgers, snacks they provided a range of goods we could purchase on a six or 12 pay plan. I can’t remember how their prices compared to off base but the pay plans didn’t charge interest.

I remember buying two items on the system without remembering if I used the six or twelve pay plan. One was a National open reel tape recorder with something like a 5 inch or smaller tape reel. Somehow I managed to record music on to this either from the radio or from the records of mates. Normie Rowes ‘Going Home’ was released in April 1967 and I played this over and over in the lead up to our mid-year leave period when we were allowed to return home for two weeks. My friend from school Noel Green had quite a record collection and I used this time and the quietness of his lounge room to record a reasonable collection of music.

It wasn’t all that long ago that I came across the recorder in my garage. It was still packed in it original box. The tape was brittle and one of the tape rollers was broken so it made its way into landfill.

The other purchase was a Gevarm A6 semi automatic .22 rifle with a 6 round magazine and a telescopic sight. After I left Wagga I left this with Dad so he could use it on the farm and he eventually surrendered it to the Police when the gun laws were changed.

The rifle however was a bit of a problem. It was against the rules for us to keep firearms in the barracks and we were meant to deposit them in the Base Armoury for safe keeping. It was not a rule I and others were inclined to keep however and I ended up with two shotguns as well as the rifle before I left Wagga - a 12 gauge and a 410. I shared a room with three others and we all had firearms. We found a place to secure them above our wardrobes and despite numerous raids by the Service Police looking for contraband they never found them.

It amazes me looking back how casual we were considering the consequences of getting caught. Not long into the second half of my first year a group of us walked casually down the railway track that ran through the Base to go shooting in the farming area around the Base. When we finished we walked back the same way. If we wanted to go out shooting on the weekends we would carry the rifles and guns to a car and I can’t remember taking any real measures to avoid detection. Perhaps it was simply that as teenagers we felt bullet proof - no pun intended.

I did eventually come unstuck though. My roommates and I had been on a weekend shooting trip and on return I left my rifle tucked under the bench seat of my mates car, thinking no more about it. However it finally became dislodged and was found by the Service Police (Spits we called them) on a snooping trip around the car park. We were sitting in an instructional period when they came and called my mate out, then a few minutes later, me. As a result he got 5 days confined to barracks, I got ten. The rifle of course ended up in the Armoury and probably stayed there till we graduated. Not that I really needed it, I still had the shot guns.

ASCO has operated under different names since being established in 1915 and continues to this day. It is now known as the Army and Air Force Canteen Service, a not-for-profit organisation operating in the interests of the welfare of soldiers, airmen & airwomen.

Welcome to the Real Air Force

I graduated from Wagga Wagga on 26th June 1969. This was farewell to many of those I had come to know over the last 2 ½ years. Some I would catch up with again over the ensuing years but there are many I haven't seen since.

I took a couple of weeks leave, travelling home in convoy with my parents and brother who had traveled to Wagga for our graduation. David must have traveled with me but I have little recollection of the trip.

Leave completed Aircraftman Marsh reported for duty at 77 Squadron Williamtown. 77 had recently returned from Butterworth to be reequipped with Mirages, the last squadron to do so. Memory tells me the Squadron had three bright, shiny new fighters at the time. Being unpainted they glared in the sunshine and could be rather hard on the eyes. Our Commanding Officer at the time was Squadron Leader Jim Treadwell who would be replaced as the Squadron came up to full strength with Wing Commander Bill Simmonds. Both men had served in Korea where Simmonds had been Mentioned in Dispatches. Of recent years I have become reacquainted with Jim through the Air Force Association.

Bill had a thing about hair - he had an aversion to it being short. A few years back I was told by one of the Squadron’s pilots from the time that officers were not allowed to get a haircut until he approved. I remember one trip to Darwin when the troops were banned from the airmen’s mess and the CO from the Officers’ mess until we all had regulation haircuts.

The ‘hair problem’ however was not limited to 77 Squadron. It was part of the culture at Williamtown until, some time after I departed for Butterworth, the Base got a new Officer Commanding. It did not take long until short back and sides were again the order of the day.

It wasn’t just the matter of hair. Williamtown was much more relaxed than Wagga Wagga. No longer did we line up in flights and march to work, lunch or anywhere else. Such regimentation would have cost operational efficiency. Gone were the continual reminders to straighten our arms or to get them up as we moved around the Base. Neither was it ‘yes sergeant’ or ‘no corporal’, especially in the hangar environment. Generally it was first name basis with our non-commissioned officers, although the commissioned ranks were always addressed as ‘sir.’

Panic night remained, this being essential as we continued to be responsible for the cleanliness of our rooms and barracks in general, including the ablutions. However the open cupboard inspections were a thing of the past as were the much hated bed rolls.

During my first six months at Wagga I had lived in a two story brick building. From there we moved to newly completed three story barracks that became our home for the next two years. This was in sharp contrast to my initial accommodation at Williamtown.

On arrival at Williamtown I shared a two-bed room in a hut that was a relic of WW2 and no doubt riddled with asbestos. In places the floor moved under our feet indicating it was well past its use by date. The ablution block was separate which meant exposure to the natural environment during trips to the toilets or showers. My roommate was Blue Bailey, a

Framie off my intake and Wayne Scholtz, another 21 Intake Framie lived in the adjoining room. There was some great after hours socialising in that old block but I did eventually move to a modern, two-story brick one. These were more comfortable although there were four to the room. One advantage was the fact the ablutions were part of the block.

There were six engine fitters (Sumpies) as I recall from our intake posted to Williamtown. I was the only one from A Flight and as I remember the only one posted to 77. My closest mates at Wagga had been posted to other bases so new friendships were formed. These included older blokes who took this impressionable, somewhat gullible, new chum under their wings, including those off earlier apprentice intakes. I know they tried to keep me on the straight and narrow, but it seemed to have been covered with oil spills - or maybe the fact we were Sumpies meant it just oozed out of us. Then again there was a Framie or two, and dare I mention that Sparky who drove us home from the Nelson Bay RSL with a hand over one eye to stop him seeing double more than once..

Of course I already knew blokes off 20, and there was a special bond between the ex-apprentice fraternity. Many of my closest mates, not only at Williamtown but throughout my career, were former appies. Technically ours was a five year apprenticeship so we were only halfway through that when we graduated. However it made no practical difference in the field. We were qualified RAAF tradesmen - no women in the trades back then - and were treated exactly the same as our peers.

That didn’t mean we were automatically authorised to work on specific aircraft or tasks. We were, for example, shown how to do a before flight inspection, refuel, do an engine change, etc. Then we would be supervised as we did the task until our supervisors were confident we could do the task properly. When I look back at my service records I see I was still being authorised to do some Mirage tasks when in Butterworth well over two years after arriving at Williamtown. For the first six months out of Wagga I was employed in Maintenance Control Section - an experience I have previously written about - which delayed further trade-specific experience.


There were two Mirage squadrons at Williamtown - 76 and 77. These were supported by 481 Maintenance Squadron. Engine fitters in Mirage squadrons did limited maintenance and repair tasks. Major servicing and repair tasks were carried out in the Engine Repair Section (ERS) of the maintenance squadron. Sumpies were attached to ERS for six months to gain experience in these deeper level tasks and I spent six months there before being posted to Butterworth.

I remember my first trip into Newcastle, only a few nights I arrived. Newcastle was a steel town back then and you really could see the air you breathed and this meant heavy fogs at times. Another night I had a burger at a cafe in Raymond Terrace. As I sat there this rather large bloke in a leather jacket walked up to his bike - probably a Honda 350 - and pressed the starter button. Being used to seeing the kick start it looked most out of place.

This was before the bridge over the Hunter into Newcastle. Saturday morning trips to town were a regular feature - I think the shops closed at lunchtime back then. It was common to park at Stockton and catch the passenger ferry to town. A regular Saturday morning haunt was a pub on the corner Hunter Street and another. This provided a great viewing platform along the side wall where we could sit with our refreshments and watch through the window as the young ladies of Newcastle paraded past in their rather short mini’s.

Nelson Bay proved a popular spot. In those days the road to the Bay was a narrow, sealed one - at least most of the way - with few opportunities to overtake. The Bay was small compared to what is now and it was here that I tried my hand at snorkeling and spearfishing, something I didn’t continue after I left. Then there was the ANZAC Day the Col Winter, a 19 intake Sumpy, told me to dress in uniform and accompany him to the Bay RSL. He assured me we wouldn’t have to buy a beer all day, that the old diggers would look after us. And they did.

Williamtown had an active car club of which I was a member. I competed in different events, including at least one rally, in my Austin Lancer Mk 2. There was also the day trip to Oran Park Raceway in South West Sydney to do a Peter Wherrett advanced driving course. Oran Park was a popular race track back then and I remember a few trips down to enjoy the racing.

It was a most enjoyable day, hanging the rear out around Creek Corner of my Falcon Ute and who remembers what else. The only thing that spoilt the day was a cop on the way home who was obviously not impressed with my new skills.

And how can I forget Hubey Parrish, a Pommy RadTech. He had a sports car - possibly an MG Midget. And he also had the gift of the gab. The story goes that one evening he was driving around Newcastle when he drew the attention of a police officer. He drove over a bridge and while out of sight of the officer did a hand brake turn and headed back the other way. Once on the other side he repeated the manoeuvre. This may have happened a few times until the office finally caught him. Then, it being raining Hubey invited the Officer to sit in the passenger seat out of the rain while they got to know each other a little better.

It was in my first months here that I was ordered to the Padre’s office. My Grandfather had been ill for some time and as I walked in the door I said ‘It’s my Grandfather isn’t it.’ ‘Yes’ he replied. Williamtown was something like a 7 hour drive from home and so I was able to take a few days off the attend the funeral. Of my four grandparents Pa Marsh’s funeral was the only one I attended. And as far as postings go, in the first six months of my first two - Wagga Wagga and Williamtown - I lost my great-grandmother and my grandfather.

I arrived at Williamtown in July 1969 and left for Butterworth in September 1971. Other than the sadness of my Grandfather’s death I have many good memories - far too many to record here. It was not until I moved to Sydney for work in 1996, nine years after my discharge, that I returned to the Port Stephens area. I could not believe how much it had changed. As for Williamtown itself, some years ago now I attended a Mirage era reunion. We were meant to meet at Fighter World and get bused onto the Base but the drive had a rostered day off - unheard of in my day. So they allowed us to drive onto the base if we had our driver’s license as identity. What a shamozzle. The reunion was in the 76 Squadron hangar but we were left to our own devices to find it. The roads had changed and the route I would have taken back in 1970 was closed off. This left a lot of civilians driving around a RAAF Base in utter confusion until somehow we found our way to the hanger. So much for security.

I Am a Veteran

  'The only way human beings can win a war is to prevent it.' General George C. Marshall

I am a veteran of 20 years service with the Australian Defence Force (ADF). While I now wear that title with pride it took me almost 20 years after I separated from the ADF before I felt comfortable doing so. In fact, I wondered if I even had the right to be called a veteran.

Australian troops were heavily committed to the Vietnam war when I joined the RAAF as a 16 year old apprentice in 1967 but that commitment ceased in early 1973 before my turn came. So most of my career was in the post Vietnam period and came to an end before Desert Storm.

I never fought the 'war within', not wanting to let my 'mates down' while knowing that 'each step could mean your last one on two legs.' My experience was not of 'mud and blood and tears', of seeing mates shot down, and living with the memory of 'Frankie, drinking tinnies in the Grand Hotel on a thirty six hour rec. leave in Vung Tau.'

Night for me is not 'a jungle dark and a barking M16.' The 'Channel 7 chopper' doesn't chill 'me to my feet', and I am not troubled by 'this rash that comes and goes'. No, neither I or my family live with the aftermath of the terror of war as do too many others.

How then can I call myself a veteran, join their fellowship and march beside them on Anzac Day? I was never tested and proved myself as they had.

After I left the Service I gradually lost contact with most of those I had served with. As time passed I missed the camaraderie and the mate ships, thinking I had lost these forever. I wondered if I could join the Anzac day march but then I reasoned it was for those 'real veterans', not for peace time wannabes like me. Eventually a phone call to the RSL confirmed my entitlement to march and to my reconnecting with what is a very important and significant part of my life.

It was at the 2005 march in Sydney – probably the first one I participated in - that I met another ex-apprentice from an earlier intake. He told me about a reunion my intake was holding later that year and put me in touch with an old mate in Melbourne who had the details. As a result of that contact I am back in touch with former mates. I have joined my local RSL sub-branch, the RAAF Association and the 77 Squadron Association. Now I attend reunions, sub-branch meetings and association functions. As well as renewing old friendships I am enjoying the fellowship of the wider ex-service community.

This, however, is not why I wear the title 'veteran' with pride. Rather, it is a recognition and acceptance of my service and that of others of my generation of service men and women for what it was and what it did.

I served five years with 75 Squadron at Butterworth Air Base in Penang, Malaysia in the 1970s. Throughout the 1970s and most of the 80s the RAAF maintained two fighter squadrons plus a maintenance and base squadron as part of Australia's treaty obligations to Malaysia and Singapore. The RAAF presence was maintained to act as a deterrent against external aggression and was established at a time of regional instability. At the time the Malaysian armed forces were engaged in an internal war against communist insurgents bent on overthrowing the Malaysian Government that only came to an end in 1989.

From 1947 to the present day Australian military personnel have been involved in peace keeping operations in different trouble spots around the globe – the Middle East, Africa, Kashmir, Korea, South East Asia and the Pacific. Australians were the first to participate in United Nations peace keeping operations anywhere in the world when they entered Indonesia in 1947 – a proud record.

In December 1974 I was serving on Caribous with 38 Squadron at Richmond when Cyclone Tracy devastated Darwin. In the aftermath of Tracy my mates who worked with the Hercules squadrons down the tarmac, including those with 486 Maintenance Squadron, worked tirelessly in support of the largest air lift this country has seen. The Australian Military have a long history of coming to the aid of their fellow Australians in times of natural disaster as well as responding to disasters in other countries in the Pacific region and beyond.

My generation of service men and women may not have endured the horrors and privation of Vietnam, Korea or Afghanistan. What we did do was maintain a strong and well-trained defence infrastructure which of itself was a strong deterrence to aggression and so contributed to the security of not only our fellow Australians, but to our region of the world. We saw the introduction of new technology and methods that improved Australia's defence capability. And we trained the next generation of women and men so that when the time came they were able to respond to the call of our Government, wherever that took them. Those of my generation can take pride in the accomplishments of today's service women and men knowing that if it were not for our service they would not be able to achieve the tasks they have been allotted, just as we acknowledge that we could not have performed ours without the service of those that came before us. In common with service men and women of all generations we committed ourselves to serve the citizens of Australia, even if that service took us to our death.

Like many Australians I have the greatest respect and admiration for those women and men who have served our nation in armed conflict. We must always remember their sacrifice and their mates who paid the ultimate price to safeguard our democratic freedoms and way of life. I cannot and do not compare my service to theirs.

I also take pride in the service and contribution of my generation of service men and women. We did all that was asked of us. There are no insignificant roles in the army, navy or air force. Each individual contributes to the success of the whole. We are all veterans and we can all wear that title with pride.

Acknowledgement

Redgum, 'I was only 19'

Written 27 December 2011