Chickenman

Somebody posted a reference to Chickenman on the 7RAR Facebook page the other day.

I thought it might be a good idea to post a link on this blog, as I know a few fellow vets read it, and it might bring back some memories.

Anyhow, I couldn't find it, so am posting this instead.

It was played on AFNVN in 1970, when I was there, and no doubt many years before and after.

A Pollies' Promise

Because I'm a teacher (have been one now for forty-five years) - I felt heartened by the Coalition's promise before the election, that they would implement the Gonski recommendations.

There is so much in the Gonski concept which is of significant value to the target group of kids that I work with, namely students with disabilities in remote and rural settings.

Now, after yesterday's events, I regard the whole thing as being in jeopardy.

That's my problem, I guess, because I have skin in the game.

But the broken promise is probably a more fundamental issue. From here, it's glaringly obvious that nothing that the current government promises can be believed, and they have taken power on a scam.

Sure, the Gillard government broke a promise on the Carbon tax, but when the promise was made, there was no awareness that there was going to be a minority government.

No such excuse is available now.

Perhaps it's simply a feature of contemporary conservative governments.

Remember Newman's statement in Queensland - "Public servants have nothing to fear from an LNP government."

He then proceeded to sack 14000 of them.

Update - The coalition have performed a double back somersault with pike which in the final analysis, is not the same scheme as promised by Labor, and leaves them plenty of wriggle room.

 

Unintended Consequences

On my many travels along the Warrego, I have noticed a strange and growing phenomenon.

There are heaps of Hi-Luxes with hi-viz markings tooling up and down the highway. Invariably, they clump together like some form of mobile soap scum – you know, the pattern that develops on the top of an old washing copper.

I’m old enough to remember that.

Anyway, these utes are all owned by mining companies. These same mining companies have pretty much colonised the Surat basin.

Each and every on of them is fitted with a GPS tracker. This cunning device, sends a signal back to a base somewhere. This signal contains real time information about speed and location.

If a unit exceeds the speed limit, an alarm goes off back in base, and the driver comes in for a grilling.

Consequentially, they all stay 1kph below the limit.

Given that you need to exceed the limit to overtake anyone travelling less than about 90 kph, mining vehicles don’t overtake.

Hence the “clumping” which is inherently quite dangerous, as motorists not carrying tell-tale GPS will try to pass long convoys of slow vehicles.

It indicates centralisation taken to extremes, and is a text-book example of unintended consequences.

And it is dangerous.

Ouch

My bride's car is looking sad after an encounter with a hailstorm

Almost every panel has sustained some damage. It came from nowhere, and there was nowhere to go.

The picture doesn't look too bad, but the turret, the boot lid, and the door panels are all damaged. Even the plastic trim around the number plate was smashed.

We've had a series of evil little super cells which have been popping up everywhere, and moving very quickly.

This is the way these small super cells look on radar.

The insurance companies are thoroughly geared up for this eventuality, and I was able to lodge a claim over the phone, and book an appraisal at the same time.

That's happening next Monday, so unless there's a backlog of vehicles being repaired, repairs shouldn't take too long. It will be interesting to see how much it costs. I reckon at least $2000.

Update
It was closer to $8000!
Car is therefore written off.
Actually, it's an ill wind, as we were in the process of getting quotes on a trade on a new car, and the payout was $3000 better than any dealer was prepared to give. They're doing deals and are swamped with cars at the moment, so are trading low.
Consequently, the order is in for a new car, and the dimpled Focus will be departing forever on the back of a truck tomorrow.

Driving the Warrego

I've been driving up and down the Warrego Highway in this job since 2006, 

and have seen lots of changes.

Not all of them are for the better.

This was brought home to me yesterday when I arrived on the scene of an accident at 6.30 am on the journey West.

It was an all-too-familiar scenario. Two young men in a small sedan had been heading East and had stopped on a three lane section of road (two lanes West; one lane East) to turn on to a side road. A woman driving a larger car had not seen them (sun in her eyes?) and ploughed into the back of their car at full speed.

On that section of road, full speed was probably about 80kph.

By the time I'd pulled up, a bloke in army uniform had helped her out of her car and was doing a good job of looking after her, so I went to the help of the two men in the other car. It had copped a helluva whack, as it was about two-thirds its original length. The fact that it folded up pretty comprehensively, probably contributed to the fact that neither were badly injured, although shocked and bruised.

I sat them down, offered reassurance, and set about trying to make sure that no one else ended up adding to the chaos, as the position of the sun was a problem for the Eastbound traffic.

Most drivers slowed, but about 10% didn't. Unfortunately this 10% are always on the road. I see them all the time.

The towies turned up  in about ten minutes, and the emergency services people in about fifteen. The towies obviously monitor the police frequencies.

Fortunately, none of the injuries were life threatening, but I'd be surprised if the woman in the second car didn't need to spend some time in hospital.

I resumed my 350 km journey, pondering how much more dangerous this road has become since I started driving it seven years ago.

The explosion of mining development in the Surat basin has a cost. There's so much more traffic, the road has been steadily destroyed by the heavy machinery, and seems to need rebuilding every two years.

Your taxes and mine are paying for this. It's a pity the mining companies aren't paying their share, and it doesn't look like they ever will.

A Factor of Ten

Today is Remembrance Day, and our thoughts turn to the winding down of the commitment of Australian troops in Afghanistan, the longest military conflict in our history.

In reflecting on that, two apparently unrelated images caught my eye.

One was a recent video grab of a C-17A landing at Tarin Kowt. On board were the next of kin of Diggers killed in Afghanistan. There was also an interview with a father. It was dignified, but there was a pervading sadness which characterised this man’s responses to the journalist's questions.

The other was a shot I took on a visit to Vietnam a few years ago.

 I was with a group of Vietnam vets conducting a service in the Long Hai hills commemorating the loss of nine diggers from 8RAR in a mine incident in February 1970. I took this photo, because my son, at that time the same age I was when I served there, read the service. I was revisiting – my son was there for the first time.

Caught accidentally in the top left of the shot is one of the 8 RAR crew, a big man, over six feet and built like a truck. Tears were glistening in his eyes.

I rediscovered the photo when I was cleaning up my computer hard drive, eliminating images that were no longer worth keeping. I kept this image, and it immediately connected in my mind with the Tarin Kowt grab.

There is a strong sense of loss associated with both Vietnam and Afghanistan, but that’s not all they have in common.

They were conflicts that hummed away in the background of our daily lives. As a nation involved in both, we weren’t officially at war, but young men and women were in harm’s way 24/7 in countries that most of us hadn’t heard of prior to the military commitments.

There were regular media reports, but generally they skimmed across the surface of the reality experienced by the diggers and their families. Like dingoes howling in the night – we heard them, but there were not affecting our lives. They were always there, always menacing, but well in the background.

For the fathers, mothers, partners and children of these Diggers, they were not background. Whether these soldiers served in Vietnam or Afghanistan their next of kin dealt daily with the understanding that at any time they might hear dreadful news. They accepted this as part of their lived reality.

For most Australian’s however, this was someone else’s dread, someone else’s fear and someone else’s problem.

In 1970, I was the one that was away, so I have no real understanding of how my parents dealt with this dread. It would not have been easy. The two hundred and fifty letters they wrote gave me some inkling.

Both of them detested the policy that sent conscripted men off to war – my father, as was his way, volubly and loudly – my mother, quietly and hidden in her heart.

It’s only since I’ve had children of my own that I’ve begun to appreciate the pervasive dread that came with this situation of separation in conflict. Adapting to separation is difficult enough when children are living normal lives. They do grow up and leave home, after all.

Parents and next of kin living the forced separation driven by involvement in conflict endure a vastly different situation.

For my parents, and the families of the serving soldiers then and now, whether they were in Vietnam or Afghanistan, the fact that their loved ones were constantly in harm’s way must have been hard to accept.

Nothing can be done when living this situation, except to endure, to manage, to focus on the mundane and to carry on. My parents obviously did this, as did my five siblings. I came home safely, and life went on.

For about 500 families, in the case of Vietnam, and 40, in the case of Afghanistan, life changed utterly. Many returned, completely changed, both physically and mentally, and they and their next of kin had to live with that.

Our government sought to honour them, and they did this passably well in the case of Afghanistan. Fallen soldiers were brought home with honour. The Prime Minister and the Leader of the Opposition were present at the ramp ceremonies. And so they should have been.

Looking back to Vietnam, they did less well. Initially, bodies were not repatriated, but interred in Malaysia. Twenty four casualties of the Vietnam War are buried in the cemetery of the Terendak Garrison at Malacca, in Malaysia. After 1966, they were repatriated, but without any of the ceremony afforded casualties of Afghanistan.

This situation was a product of the times. The war in Vietnam was almost always divisive, and it probably made political and practical sense to treat repatriation in a low key manner. Only the kin of those killed know whether this has been a source of bitterness.

Given that 249 of these casualties were conscripts, it would indeed be surprising if there was no residual hurt. Some of this may have been assuaged to a degree when the recent stalwart efforts to repatriate soldiers missing in action in Vietnam are considered.

The Repatriation of Flying Officer Mike Herbert and Pilot Officer Bob Carver in 2009 were the last two. They went missing during my tour. Bob Carver was from Toowoomba. Now that these two are back, all are home.

It is encouraging to note two other recent developments.

One was the joint visit of the Prime Minister and the Leader of the Opposition to Afghanistan to honour the drawing down of our commitment.

The other was the visit of the next of kin to Tarin Kowt.

Maybe in the last forty years our nation has learnt something about honouring our servicemen and women. Maybe we have also learnt to honour the suffering and sacrifice of their next of kin.

As this is written, casualties in Vietnam exceed those in Afghanistan by a factor of ten. Is it reasonable to conclude that during the last forty years our recognition of the sacrifice of our servicemen and women has improved by the same amount?

Paul Kelly at the Empire

I post this because I attended this live performance at the Toowoomba Empire Theatre.

I can't remember the date, think it was 2008 - but I'll stand corrected, gentle reader.

The large unit second from the right, is Mick Albeck, a Thallon lad. The harmonys are magnificent, and the performance electric.

Paul Kelly - Australian musical genius....