Some Fascinating History

I’m going through some documents collected from my mother’s personal effects.

The pace of life has slowed a bit, gentle reader and I have time now for this kind of thing.

Mum died in 2001, and this material has been stored away for years.

I’m only now getting around to going through it, and have turned up something very interesting.

My dad served in New Guinea in World War Two. Stashed away in a folder I found the documents above.

They are scans of a newspaper issued to Australians and Americans serving in Papua New Guinea between 1942 and 1945.

Dad was obviously aware of the significance of this particular issue of Guinea Gold, and brought it home with him, and my mum preserved it.

Click on the images to make them (almost) readable.

I should probably send them to the AWM.

Dad died exactly twenty-seven years ago today.

Reflections on Political Correctness

This term gets a great deal of use.

It’s usually directed at individuals making statements about controversial issues, and these statements are more often than not directed at aspects of human behaviour driven by fear, apathy, or plain ignorance.

It’s very easy to apply the “politically correct” label to any opinion that is inconvenient, or that doesn’t accord with the values and beliefs of the person using the term as abuse.

I’ll give you an example, dear reader.

I’m a member of a closed group on Facebook inhabited by past or serving members of a military unit. Generally, opinions expressed are remarkably consistent, but they are often different from mine.

The same goes with a number of well-patronised blogs whose themes relate to conservative politics.

Should I venture an opinion which differs from the mainstream, two things invariably occur.

First, my bona fides are questioned, usually asserting that I am using someone else’s regimental number. After all, how could I dare to express such opinions unless I was some kind of agent provocateur?

The fact that my identity is very easily checked seems to cut no ice at all.

The other frequent result is that I am accused of being brainwashed at university.

This is pretty bizarre, given that I spent ten years of my life all up at various universities. Obviously the brainwashing must have been very effective, because the other fifty-nine years I’ve been around seem to count for nothing.

It’s boringly predictable, but I continue to be entertained by this same predictability.

I wish I could back a horse or two as reliable.

Media Failure

Statement from Australian National Imams Council

Statement from Shahjahan Kahn (Toowoomba Muslim Community)

No doubt everyone who isn't living under a rock has heard about the killing of a Catholic Priest in France last week.

I would, however, be surprised if any of my readers has heard of either (or both) of the two documents posted above. I only came across them because they were inserts in our Sunday parish newsletter.

If you don't want to take my word for the fact that the ANIC statement has been ignored, just do a Google news search on "ANIC condemns killing of priest".

What you'll find is that the statement gets a mention in passing under the headline -"France church attack: Malcolm Turnbull says new anti-terror measures necessary".

The local rag hasn't mentioned Kahn's statement.

We hear over and over again about the alleged failure of leadership in the Muslim community when it comes to condemning atrocities committed by lunatics in the name of Islam.

When this condemnation does occur (and it always does) there is never any publicity. It does, of course not sell newspapers, attract clicks, or feed the narrative.

No wonder Muslims believe that the media has it in for them. Based on the evidence, it would be difficult for them to come to any other conclusion.  

Apollo Eleven - a Baggy Arse's Perspective.

I photographed this particular Caribou at Luscombe Field, Nui Dat in 1970.

20^th July was the 47^th anniversary of the first moon landing.

On that day, Neil Armstrong stepped out of Apollo 11’s lunar module on to the surface of the moon in the Sea of Tranquillity and uttered those famous words.

Most of us, on the day, think back to where we were and what we were doing at that moment.

I was in the Putty mountains on exercise with 7 RAR, preparing for tropical warfare in freezing sleet.

The exercise finished on the evening before the day of the landing, and we were allowed to put our hootchies (2 man tents) up to provide shelter overnight.

This was not allowed when we on a tactical exercise, and we had been sleeping in the open on groundsheets. It was bloody cold.

It was so cold in fact, that the digger sharing my hootchie and I had the bright idea of hanging a blanket up across the front of our tent in an attempt to keep the howling westerlies out. They’re experiencing much the same weather down South as I write this. 

It did help in providing a little cover from the lazy wind, but when we struck the tent next morning, the blanket eerily stayed in place. It had frozen solid, as it had sleeted during the night.

A RAAF Caribou was to take us out that morning, but the crosswind was approaching a strength which would render the take-off from the small dirt strip unsafe. It was whilst we were waiting for the aircraft that we were told of the moon landing, when the news was broadcast on the battalion net.

From memory, it did not raise much excitement with us. When you’re frozen to the bone, it’s difficult to get excited about news events, no matter how significant.

The aircraft landed, we got on board, and we lined up for take-off. From where I sat, with my back to the fuselage, I could see the pilots struggling to keep the aircraft on the strip as the wind caught the Caribou’s enormous tail.

We were the last flight out that day, as the wind freshened, and all aircraft were grounded until it abated.

The fact that we were last flight out was in hindsight at the time much more significant to us than the moon landing.

It meant that the platoon sergeant, who was scheduled on the next flight, didn’t arrive at Holsworthy barracks until the next day.

We had 24 hours of bliss as there was no one there to harangue us to perform useless tasks in the interests of being seen to be busy.

That’s what I remember most about the moon landing.