Swede

I have fond memories of Swede Jensen. We roomed together for the two and a half years we spent at Wagga, first in 2 Flight Initial Training Squadron (ITS) and then for two years as members of 21 A Engine Fitter Flight. We were the only ones from 2 Flt that became sumpys.

Our first weekend at Wagga was spent in the mess scrubbing pots and pans. That was the lot of first year apprentices - rostered for mess duty on the weekends. Throughout the week this was cared for by Thicks - a term of endearment for adult trainees. I remember remarking to Swede something to the effect ‘Look at us, joined the air force to see the world and here we are doing pots and pans’.

Our ITS accommodation block was next to the railway line that ran through the base, one side of the line being used largely for living quarters and the other work. One day we placed coins on the line and lay in the drain under the track outside our block and waited for the Tumbarumba Express to pass and see what it would do to the coins. Then there was the day we were making ashtrays with oxy-acetylene welders. We sat on stools at welding tables that were probably about eighteen inches round. Suddenly there was a yell and Swede was jumping around the workshop with a hole burnt neatly in the leg of his overalls. ‘How’d you do that?’ we asked. Long before Channel nine claimed credit for the idea, Swede gave an instant replay, much to our amusement.

We shared a love of shooting and were able to secure our weapons in our room well enough to survive a number of raids by the Spits (Service Police). I did eventually get caught, but that was because I left my rifle under the seat of a mate’s car where it was found by the Spits snooping around in the car park. It had slipped out from where I had placed it and subsequently I did ten or fourteen days CB. To the best of my knowledge Swede never got caught.

We had one memorable camping trip up near Tumbarumba with Don Banks and Shorty Parsons - the other blokes we roomed with as sumpys. I had a small tent - two or three person - and the idea was to park the car, carry our stuff across the river and set up camp. We planned to use the tent to store our supplies while we slept under the stars. However, the stars refused to shine that night. The four of us ended up trying to sleep in the tent with all our gear. I still remember the rock in my back. Fortunately the next day was fine and we were able to dry our stuff and shoot a few bunnies as well.

After we left Wagga our paths didn’t cross again until I was posted to Headquarters Support Command in 1980. We worked on the same floor for a while as technical spares assessors. I can’t remember when we parted again but I have only met him once since, at that was at a reunion in 2005. Then he was living in North Queensland and as a son of the Atherton Tablelands he must have been living close to home. I hope to see him again one day maybe at at another reunion. Whether I do or not, one thing is certain. Swede Jensen is one bloke I will remember so long as I have the capacity to do so.

The Story Behind Butterworth's Revetments

Butterworth was the best experience of my 20 years with the RAAF. I was fortunate enough to have two postings to 75 Squadron, the first from September 1971 to March 1974, and the second July 1977 returning to Australia in January 1980. The one noticeable difference when I returned in 1977 was the revetments on the flight line. It is only in recent years that I have discovered why they were there.

Sourced from Air Base Butterwoth Face Book Page
Copyright unknown

Following their defeat in the 1950s the Malayan Communists retreated to Southern Thailand. Here, in relative safety, they rebuilt and in July 1968 launched what is now known as the Communist Insurgency War 1868-1989, or Second Malaysian Emergency. Two of my earliest memories of 1971 were a warning about booby traps and being told the RMAF were dropping bombs on the communists somewhere out there in the jungle.

A three-way split in the communist ranks in 1974 resulted in ‘a significant increase in communist armed violence in both Peninsular Malaysia and Singapore’ (Ong, 61). Of this time Cheah Boon Kheng says ‘each faction tried to outdo each other in militancy and violence‘. The period ‘saw the CPM intensify its activities of terrorism and clashes with the security forces. Communist groups attempted to blow up the National Monument in Kuala Lumpur, carried out ambushes of police field forces and succeeded in assassinating the police chief of Perak state and the Inspector-General of Police.’ (p.149)

By the end of 1975 various police and military installations throughout Peninsular Malaysia had been attacked, including one on Penang Island. A rocket attack had damaged a Caribou on the military airbase at Kuala Lumpur. Intelligence warned that the communists had instructed their underground network to launch rocket attacks on airbases during September and October 1975. Butterworth was one of three bases considered most likely at risk.

Reports that the terrorists had acquired mortar capability were of particular concern. It was considered that external security around the Base, a Malaysian responsibility, were far short of that required to act as a deterrent against attack. On 14 October, the DCAS, AM N.P. McNamara advised the DJS ‘The requirement for blast protection of aircraft against ground burst weapons and small arms fire together with aircraft dispersal is currently under review.’ A document dated 22 October 1976 confirmed ‘Action has recently been taken to construct revetments to give some protection to … aircraft at Butterworth against attack’ by ‘light mortars or small rockets.’

The attack never came. However in 1978 or 79 the revetments saved the RAAF from what could have been an embarrassing international incident. Three Squadron were engaged in air to ground gunnery practice. As the pilots were being strapped in for a sortie there was an accidental discharge of a cannon round. A troop assisting the pilot strapped in was injured as the round shot through the ladder and the round embedded in the revetment, thus avoiding injury to nearby Malaysian citizens.

SOURCES

Cheah Boon Kheng. ‘The communist insurgency in Malaysia, 1948-90: contesting the nation-state and social change’. New Zealand Journal of Asian Studies 11, 1 (June 2009), p.149, athttp://www.nzasia.org.nz/downloads/NZJAS-June09/14_Cheah_3.pdf, accessed 12 Sep 2012

National Australian Archives. NAA: A1838, 696/6/4/5 Part 3. Butterworth base - General.

National Australian Archives. NAA: A703, 564/8/28 Part 8. RAAF Butterworth - Ground defence plans.

Ong,Weichong. ‘Malaysia’s defeat of armed communism: the second emergency, 1968-1989. Routledge. 2015

Drongo

Word for the day: 'Drongo'.

In the early 1920's there was a racehorse named Drongo who in 37 starts never had a win. He did however have a number of seconds and thirds in top class races, including the Melbourne Cup. His lineage is traced to a colt Jersey Lily brought to Australia by the actress Lillie Langtry. At one stage in her life she was mistress to Edward, Prince of Wales who later became Edward VII. Edward, it seems, was a bit of a pants man, having a possible 55 mistresses throughout his life. These included the mother of Winston Churchill and the great-grandmother of Camilla Parker Bowles.

Soon after the horse was retired racegoers, it seems, began calling any horse that failed to make the grade a drongo. And so it came to mean anyone who was slow, dim-witted, or hopeless cases.

In the 1940s the word was applied to RAAF recruits.

Fifty Years a Hedgehog

Sixteen seems so long ago, yet that was the age I was 50 years ago when I joined the RAAF on 11 January 1967. I didn’t think it back then but the photos of the time tell it as it was. I was a boy, one of 180 plus aged between 15 and 17 who arrived at the RAAF School of Technical Training east of Wagga Wagga as members of 21 Apprentice Intake (Hedgehogs). I have often wondered about that choice and what my life might have been like if I had made a different one.

Airman Apprentice Marsh, 1967

I was a farm kid. In those days there didn’t seem a great deal of options. Stay on the farm, get a job in the bank, do an apprenticeship. I can’t recall anyone in my extended family who had completed high school, yet alone gone on to higher education. Dad had not gone beyond primary school. So there were no role models to inspire me, nor was the option ever discussed. That was the way it was.

The RAAF had always been a dream - although that dream had to do with flying fighter jets, something I was to later learn I was too tall for. So when Mum came to me with an application form for the RAAF apprenticeship scheme cut from the local paper I jumped at it.

Life was simple back then. Until I did the trip to Sydney for my RAAF medicals and interviews the extent of my travels had been as far north as the Gold Coast, west to Toowoomba and down the New England to Glen Innes and possibly Armidale, and south to Newcastle. Accompanied by Mum I spent a week or so in Sydney staying with Dad’s sister. It was a real adventure, sitting in the front seat on the top deck of the double decker buses seeing something of a city I have since come to love.

The RAAF gave me a life I could never have dreamed of back then. Malaysia, Singapore and the opportunity to visit Thailand in the days before Multiculturalism. Before going overseas I can only recall eating one non-Aussie dish, and that was in Sydney’s Chinatown while waiting for a rail connection between Wagga Wagga and South Grafton on leave.Then there were the six weeks in PNG, different altogether than South East Asia. But PNG could not compete with the opportunity to live in and experience a different culture like those five years in Penang.

I was a tall, gangly, uncoordinated kid. How I hated those times when two captains were nominated and told to pick teams. I was always the last picked. In a culture that valued athletic ability I quickly learned my place. I'm sure that early experience affected my confidence and may explain some of my character oddities to this day.

One the other hand I did well scholastically despite being academically lazy. In high school I was always in bed by 10pm while at the same time hearing stories of my peers staying up till midnight or later. Yet Mum - and who can argue with mothers - told me after I joined the RAAF I topped Maclean High School in the 1966 School Certificate. Maths was too much of a challenge. Too often I would go to the answer page of the textbook first during homework. History was a completely different matter. How I devoured history textbooks and whatever else I could find.  My Grandfather subscribed to a popular history periodical of the day - ‘Parade’. I’m sure regular stories of the glorious British Empire along with a regular diet of Biggles books fueled my dreams of air force and flying. I was today what would be called a history nerd.

Needless to say that academic laziness carried on at Wagga. I at times joke that the only exam I studied for in those 2 ½ years I had to resit, but that is pretty close to the truth.

My service records show that the interview team in 1966 considered I didn't have the aptitude for a technical career but they still accepted me. They also noted I was a quiet, shy, country lad. That quietness continued to be noted throughout my career, being seen as a handicap to promotion. One quote I recall from my time as a corporal went something like "Too quiet to give orders, but when he does they are clearly understood".

Three things stand out from my 20 years service, although two are not service related. I will always be thankful for these for what they have given me post RAAF.

During my second posting to Malaysia I took up Tae Kwon Do and set my heart on achieving a black belt during my time there. A few months in and nothing seemed to go right - back to that gangly uncoordinated kid. I felt frustrated and was close to quitting. Then one night it happened. Everything seemed to click and I never looked back. Many years later I took up karate, quitting before I made it to black belt a second time because the body gave up. I remember one instructor often reminding us  every so often that frustration was important to learning. It meant the mind recognised what we should be doing and so it should be embraced because if we persisted the body would catch up with the brain.

Many years after my Tae Kwon Do experience  I had a similar breakthrough. I was working on my Master’s thesis. I had all these concepts running around in my head - best practice, total quality management, systems management, risk management and more. Then one night it was as if the bells rang out and the lights flashed as it all meshed together. Not mastery in either martial arts or academically, but the point at which you realise you can make it.

The second experience was painful and you may ask why be thankful. It is an experience I wish I had not experienced and that was never experienced by anyone. But, as the saying goes, every cloud has a silver lining. That was the breakup of my first marriage and yes, I accept a lot of the responsibility for that. First, it forced me to open up about my feelings. I would have cracked if I had not found someone to share with. Two men in particular I am indebted too. The first was a RAAF Chaplain in Melbourne. The other a mate I worked with at the time and with whom I ran regularly around South Melbourne with at lunch time.

At this time I started reading about divorce and realised I wasn't strange. What I was experiencing at the time was typical of the emotional roundabout we all go through during relationship breakdown and loss. This led to further reading in the self-help and personal growth fields. Some were anything but helpful, leading to more painful learning experiences. But others brought rich benefits, more than compensating for the pain of the less-than-helpful.

Finally came my experience as an Instructor in Melbourne. I don't know why, but I put my hand up when I knew there was a vacancy in the Training Cell. It was something I knew I wanted to try.  Not only did I love the job, I know from the feedback I received I excelled at it - and to this day I love public speaking. For the three plus years I was in the role I received my best annual performance assessments. But only a year or two earlier I was assessed as being unsuitable for a training role, again because I was too quiet.

That role was the confidence builder I needed. While I have always been an introvert it brought me out of my shell. I have much to thank the Service for, but it is that one opportunity that stands out for me.

I left the RAAF in January 1987. The following year I enrolled in a Graduate Diploma of Health Education,  as stated above. One of our first assignments was an essay on teaching methods. I regurgitated all I could remember from my RAAF Instructional Technique course. The lecturer's comments went something like ‘I would liked to have seen the references for that’. He was so kind. Fortunately the grade was pass/fail, as it was for the entire course, so I was not embarrassed with a 50% pass.

Following discharge in 1987

The following year I commenced employment with the Seventh-Day Adventist Church. For the first two years I was a full time student completing an Associate Diploma of Occupational Health and Safety at the Phillip Institute of Technology. For the first year I was enrolled in two institutions while I completed my Grad Dip.

Eventually I was to complete a Master’s degree in OHS plus a Graduate Certificate in Compliance. I was no longer academically lazy. As I struggled with putting words together the lesson learned years earlier from Tae Kwon Do constantly came to mind. I loved the challenge. Not so much the hard slog, but the satisfaction of completing an essay, along with all those annoying references, and the feeling ‘Did I do that?’ And while I may boast, my academic record for all tasks assessed other than pass/fail carries a Distinction average.

Master of OHS, Newcastle 2004

To this day I love researching things that interest me. When veterans were fighting Government over detrimental changes to our superannuation system I spent many hours searching Hansard and going through different reports on military and public service superannuation. While we had a partial win there remains unfinished business. For the last few years I have spent even more time scanning files available from National Archives, newspapers, books, academic papers and more covering the Australian presence at Butterworth in the 1970s and 80s. Our Defence department maintains this was normal peacetime service, yet all the evidence shows otherwise. Between 1968 and 1989 Malaysian security forces were engaged in a war against communist insurgents, a war known as the Second Malaysian Emergency,  a war our Government refuses to acknowledge because of the implications to our veterans’ entitlements system.

I can spend hours on Google researching different topics of interest. And I also enjoy writing about the things I research, as well as other things. Then there is the Bible, and the time I have spent searching through different themes. This leads to further research because the Bible often makes a lot more sense when the historical context in which it was written is understood.

Over recent years I often reflect on that decision 50 years ago and wonder what might have been if I had made a different one. There is no way that can be answered with any certainty of course. I agree with the assessment that I did not have the aptitude for a technical trade. I believe I could have enjoyed life as a professor of history, locked away in the dusty archives of a university library. Or theology, but not as a Church pastor dealing with the problems of parishioners and local Church politics. Or maybe sociology, psychology, comparative religions or philosophy, the world of people, how they think and behave, of belief systems and ideas. Yes, I could see myself enjoying a career in one of these fields.

So what of those 20 years service? It is a lived experience that I would not have known if I had not enlisted. So I can only comment on what it gave me.

First there was and is the camaraderie. For those 30 months at Wagga Wagga we ate, worked, played and slept together. In many ways it was just an extended family with all the bonding that comes with family. And little changed when we were posted to our first units and again lived in barracks.  As we married our families were in many ways a continuation of barracks life. Then I can relate it back to the rural community I grew up in. Neighbors, many part of my extended family, who knew survival depended on working together at different times through the year and of supporting one another in the bad times.

There was that basic military training that not only instilled discipline. By the time I graduated from Wagga as an 18 year old I knew more about responsibility, accountability and teamwork than I have seen demonstrated by much older senior managers I have come across in civilian life. Parade time of 0800 hours meant being there 5 minutes early, not strolling in 20 or 30 minutes later. And no one would finish work and leave someone else to clean up afterwards - a continuing frustration in later employment.

Then there was the opportunity to experience different cultures in a time when Multiculturalism was unheard of. In the 1970s travel within Australia was expensive enough. For many overseas travel would be undreamed of.

With Mum, 2015

I live with the pride of giving 20 years of service to my country, long service in anyone's language. And those 5 years in Malaysia were far more than an overseas holiday at taxpayers’ expense. Australia’s commitment was to provide security and assurance of our interest to an unstable environment during the Cold War years. Our presence gave invaluable indirect aid to Malaysia in particular, and no doubt Singapore, in their battle against the communists. I know I was part of something significant.

Could anything else have given me all of that? Some of it perhaps, but not the sum total. Of course I would know nothing of that if I had not lived it. But having lived it I can't imagine a career that would give so much. Knowing what I know now, if I were 16 today and given the same opportunity I would grab it with both hands.

The Chinese Interpreter

Oh Boon is a legend to many, one of most memorable characters I have known. I met him not long after I arrived in Butterworth in 1971. I had bought my first bike, a 1964 Norton, from Monkey Tan who ran a bike repair shop close to the Base. Less than a week later I flipped it end-to-end on the Island and had it repaired by Bulldog Kaun. Bulldog is a motorcycle racing legend in Malaysia.

Boon at his shop

Bulldog’s shop, as I recall, was located on an intersection. In the typical - at least for the time - Asian way his workshop spread out over the footpath onto the road. This resulted in a permanent oil stain on the road surface. One day in light rain I saw a motorcycle rider slide off as he was rounding the corner. What better place to come off your bike than right outside a bike repair shop. I did wonder if the oil on the road was part of the business plan.

In those first months in Malaysia it seemed the Aussies had their bikes cared for by either Monkey or Bulldog. It wasn't long however until one of our number began singing the praises of this bloke Boon. Evidently Boon had been the Penang agent for Norton but they were no longer imported in 1971. My 1964 model must have been one of the last sold new as I can't recall any post 64 models in the country.

Boon turned out to be a very good mechanic and it did not take long before he developed a loyal Aussie client base - if he didn't have one before I met him. He had a particular fondness for English four-strokes, the most famous of which was Boon’s Boomer.

Not long after I arrived in Butterworth I became involved with the RAAF Butterworth Motor Club. One activity we ran regularly was Scrambles, or as it is now known Motocross. Most of the bikes raced were stripped down English four-strokes - BSAs, Nortons, Aerials etc. One I remember was a 750 Norton. Within my first 12 months some of us started competing on Japanese trail bikes - Suzuki 125s and 250s, with the odd Yamaha and my Honda SL350. Henry Lindner imported a Suzuki TM400 which was the first dedicated motocrosser. It wasn't long before some of the guys brought motocross machines with them from Australia. But the ‘Trucks’ as we called them, the stripped down road bikes, predominantly of British origin, lived on. Which brings me back to Boon’s Boomer.

Here my memory may fail. As far as I recall the Boomer had a Triumph 650 engine in an Aerial frame. It had been built by Monkey Tan for Henry Lindner and passed on to Claudio Da Re. Claudio was a fearless rider and in his hands the Boomer was extremely competitive, at least while it functioned. Keeping any machine operating on the Bukit Gelugor track was quite a challenge because of the significant water hole in the course. If a bike didn't fail in the swamp it could still fail on the hill faced coming out of the slime. And, as the day wore on, the water carried up the hill from the swamp made the hill more treacherous.  Hence there was a great quantity of silastic used to try and stop the water getting into the electrics and much CRC on hand for when it invariably did.

Water Challenge, Bukit Gelugor

Boon was always on hand at the track to help his customers, one of whom was Claudio. Over time this bike, No. 69, became increasingly associated with Boon. It passed from Claudio to Ron Vella, who in time became son-in-law to Boon. And so the legend came to be.

Unidentified rider making waves

Boon was more than a mechanic, he was friend. There was always a supply of cold Anchor on hand for his regulars. Then there were his steamboats, put on at regular intervals for the clientele. I find it challenging to describe a steamboat for the uninitiated, but here goes.

Steamboat is prepared in a specially made utensil that probably has some resemblance to a spinning top. A charcoal fire burns in the bottom section of the utensil with the heat and fumes exiting through a chimney exiting at the top. Surrounding the chimney is a circular cooking bowl and a lid can be placed on top of this to retain the heat.

Preparation begins by adding water and stock to prepare a basic soup and bringing this to the boil. Once this happens diners select their own ingredients from those prepared into bite sized pieces and placed in nearby bowls such as chicken, fish, pork, and vegetables and drop them in the soup. As these cook they add to the flavour of the soup. It is a real experience, one that if you have never tried is highly recommended.

I remember one evening he had a supply of small green chillies. By this time I thought I could handle hot. Boon challenged me to try the chillies, so I took one, chewed and swallowed. ‘Nothing wrong with that’ I thought, so I took another. Before I could swallow it the heat from the first one hit me. I had far exceeded my ‘hot’ limit.

Boon’s shop was a real meeting place, part of the social fabric of Butterworth.  Part of this may have been the stock answer to the question ‘When will my bike be ready Boon’? to which the answer was invariably ‘Tomorrow can.’ This did take some getting used to because ‘tomorrow’ meant something akin to ‘not today’. This I came to understand as cultural, not only to the Chinese but many other cultures in the world who do not operate with a Western mindset.  And when you live in their culture it is not their place to change, it is our place to accept.

Boon, of course, was a native Chinese speaker, the predominant Chinese dialect in Penang being Hokkien. This brings me to an event I have always remembered as it is in many ways humorously odd. One of Boon’s customers was an American who worked on the off-shore oil rigs, probably in the Straits of Malacca. One day this bloke asked one of our number if he would do something for him - something that was not too difficult. ‘No sweat’ replied the Aussie.

‘What, you won't do it for me?’ responded the Yank.

‘No sweat mate, she’ll be right’ came the typical Aussie response.

Our American friend still failed to understand and was becoming more agitated as the conversation progressed to the point it caught Boon’s attention.

‘What he means’ interrupted Boon, ‘is that he’ll do it’. The tension eased and all was well, thanks to a native Chinese speaker interpreting between two native English speakers who, in all reality could only speak English.   

I didn't see as much of Boon during my second posting mainly owing to my interest - read obsession - in Tae Kwon Do. He remained however my bike mechanic and I continued to enjoy his hospitality.  Boon has sadly gone the way of all flesh, but the Chinese interpreter lives on in my memory as one of life's more memorable characters.

How not to carry a fire hose

Williamtown, circa 1970, rostered for fire crew. The first thing I noticed was the Firies were a lot more particular about rank than techos - AC, LAC, CPL etc. Nothing of the more relaxed familiarity I had become accustomed to in 77.

At the start of the shift we had the 'training session'. This included how to carry the fire hose over the shoulder at the same time protecting the family jewels from the hardware on the ends of the hose.

'AC Bloggs will now demonstrate how to carry the hose' says the Sgt. So Blogs - a firey of course - hoists the hose onto his shoulder and steps off with the hard bits dangling down his back.

'AC Blogs will NOW demonstrate how to carry the hose the RIGHT way' states the Sgt, a little more firmly.

So AC Blogs reverses the position so that now those hard bits are rather close to that which was meant to be protected, and again steps off.

'Don't you know how to carry the hose correctly AC Blogs' yelled a now exasperated Sgt.

Melbourne Trams and Bananas

Now retired, a tram from the 80s.

I returned to Australia from Butterworth in January 1980. After taking a couple of weeks leave to catch up with family I hadn’t seen for two and a half years I travelled to Melbourne to start what would end up being the next sixteen years of my life, including the last seven in the Service.

My family and I spent the first six weeks in a Motel in Lygon Street Carlton. The Greek presence was obvious, with many buildings displaying their English names in small print under the Greek name. Melbourne is, of course, the world’s third largest Greek city and much of that is centred around Carlton. This was my first exposure to Melbourne’s trams, each morning catching the tram that ran down Lygon Street to work in South Melbourne.

Headquarters Support Command was spread out in different buildings around the Victoria Barracks complex on St Kilda Road. For most of my time there I worked on different levels of Cordell House which as an eight storey building at 4 Albert Road. It is now an apartment building.

SupCom was different - no flight lines, no aircraft, just desks. Many RAAF technical staff spent time here during their careers to provide technical support for the operational units. My first job was as a technical spares assessor. This meant assessing the future spares requirements for one or two specific aircraft type.

The science of this is best illustrated by by a large dome-shaped light shade displayed standing upside down on a shelf as one exited the sixth floor lift. This was our crystal ball. As a corporal I could spend $40,000 with the stroke of a pen - I would hate to think what that is in today’s terms. If the order was queried by the bean counters - as it often was - it would be justified by words to the effect ‘Justified to cover anticipated increase in future flying hours.’ That always seemed to do the trick. We could be ordering spares for anything up to seven years in the future.

I couldn’t help laugh some years later after I discharged. Although I didn’t work for this particular well-known Aussie firm, my employer leased an office off them for me. The Branch Manager could not spend any more than $600 without head office approval. And I could spend that $40,000 as many times a day as I could sign the orders.

In SupCom we worked alongside public servants. One of the standing jokes was ‘Why do Public Servants spend all afternoon looking out the window?’ The answer, ‘Because if they spent all morning looking out the window they would have nothing to do in the afternoon.’ It went something like this. Turn up at 0800, spend the first hour drinking coffee and reading the paper. One hour flex time. Sit at your desk all lunch time playing cards. Minimum lunch break 30 minutes, so for an hour lunch break 30 minutes flex time. Take Friday off as a flex day. No, RAAFies didn’t have that deal.

We could come to work in civvies though. I believe the origin of this was the Vietnam era. The story goes that before I got there a parade was called one day. Civies had been worn for so long that many were surprised to see exactly who the RAAF members were. There was more than one RAAF member who had their first haircut for sometime in preparation for that parade. Consequently we were required to wear uniform once or twice a week, although many of us wore it more often than not. And I must admit that for me at least wearing the uniform, especially when moving around away from the immediate Victoria Barracks area, was one of those feel good things.

We didn’t have the area to ourselves. I recall a few sailors, but the army had a significant presence. It was only because they were there so I head that we were required to salute officers as we made our way up and down St Kilda Road. I tend to believe this as from what I have seen the army are a lot more hung up on that sort of stuff than we were. Early one morning I was walking - or should I say marching - along the road with the sun in my eyes. All I could see were the shadowed silhouettes of people coming the other way. ‘Don’t you salute officers sergeant?’ he yelled. I won’t repeat here what I thought of that idiot. I can only wonder how many civies overtaking a service member nearly had their heads knocked off by a well executed  salute. There must have been some.

In Cordell House the toilets were located in the stairwell, halfway between floors. Ladies on one level, gents the next. Working on the sixth floor a toilet break would often be announced with the words ‘Going down a half.’ This all worked flawlessly until I was sent to a different floor to work, probably the third floor. Needing a break, I went down a half. The first through that came to mind as I passed through the inner door to the business area was ‘who removed the plumbing?’ Then I realised they didn’t put urinals in the ladies. Fortunately I was able to retreat without being embarrassed.

It wasn’t long after that I was ‘Up a half.’ As I came out of the inner sanctum this young lady enters from the stair well. ‘What are you doing here?’ she screamed. ‘I’m in the right place’ I replied. A rather red face and quick retreat by an embarrassed public servant followed. The girl in question acquired a bit of fame around the building, maybe a little after this, for doing a shoot for Playboy or other like publication.

I moved from Spares Assessing to a section with the name of Development of Management Systems. This must have been on promotion to sergeant. One flight sergeant and two sergeant techos, and a one or two others. One was a public servant who had a habit of leaning back on her chair. One day she went too far, doing a backwards somersault to the floor. ‘How did you do that?’, we asked? She obliged with an instant replay, her modesty protected by the fact she was wearing jeans.

The reality of this place was that one of us could have come in for half an hour one day a week and completed the week’s tasks. The Flight Sergeant, whose name I can’t recall, spent the time designing his retirement home and planning for life post RAAF.

I will always remember the words on a poster prominently displayed on the wall. The poster had a picture of an eagle with claws extended in attack mode. The words said it all: ‘To err is human, to forgive is not DEVMS policy.’

When a vacancy came up for an instructing role I put my hand up and was accepted. I think this was part of DEVMS. We ran induction and other courses for all public service and RAAF members that were posted into Cordell House. I thoroughly enjoyed the role, it being one of the most satisfying periods of my career. This was shown in my annual performance appraisals, the three best I had in 20 years. This came to an end when someone worked out I was holding a position meant for an airframe fitter and so I was posted elsewhere. The move was to a mind-numbing position and as I had personal reasons for staying in Melbourne the decision to leave the RAAF at the end of 20 years was an easy one to make.

And, of  course, there were the trams. They were almost integral to the job. There were generally two ways to get to work, one being carpooling. The other was to catch a train into Flinders Street then walk or catch a  tram down St Kilda Road. At different times I used both options. Trams were often used for specialist medical appointments in Melbourne and to get to and from work social functions, and lunchtime shopping trips.

Cordell House was across the road from a tram stop on a five-way junction. From here we could catch a tram into the city or head south along St Kilda Road, to Albert Park along Park Street, or to South Yarra along Domain Road. In those days the trams were painted green and yellow and quite often after waiting for a while one would have the option of catching three or four trams to the city. Hence the standing joke: ‘What to Melbourne trams and bananas have in common?’ ‘They are both green and yellow and both come in bunches’.

Overall I have happy memories of Melbourne and of Support Command. My only regret is the last 18 months or so after my instructing role came to an end. Those last months are the only bad memories I have of what otherwise was the best 20 years of my life.