Sanity at Last

At long last, a decision has been made about asylum seekers that restores my faith in my country.

The High Court has redeemed us, and thrown a giant spanner in the works of offshore processing.

Political posturing aside, (and there is plenty of this from both sides) this decision is probably the most significant change in the view of the High Court on this issue since the Tampa incident. Put simply, it throws the nonsense of off shoring our refugees right out the window. The various tin pot administrations who are happy to take the metaphorical forty pieces of silver provided will be the only people worse off.

The interesting issue now, is whether the government has enough courage to begin processing all boat arrivals on the mainland, and to return to the structures that worked quietly and effectively pre-Tampa.

Zoning areas for immigration would be another move that would assist, as would the introduction of an Australia card which refugees and everyone else would be obliged to carry. The fact that the carrying of an ID card has ever been a political issue in this country is beyond bizarre.

But that would require ethics and courage, neither of which is evident in either of the two major parties these days.

Celebratory Gunfire

Anti-aircraft or celebratory?

Given recent events in Libya, no doubt you’ve watched endless and often-repeated footage of individuals firing all manner of weapons in the air in celebration.

This usually happens in the Middle East, but it is not confined to that part of the world, and has been observed in South America, the Philippines and the Balkans.

There are reports of it happening in the USA.

Apparently, Kentucky is the home of celebratory gunfire in the USA. It’s in the Onion, so must be true.

I’ve often wondered what happens to all those rounds fired skywards. I had the experience of accidentally firing a 7.62 round through a double-skinned tent once, so understand very well that damage can be done both on the way up as well as the way down. I was lucky, as the leak created was on the other side of the tent from where I slept.

But that’s another story entirely.

Apparently there are many recorded fatalities, and in some places, a great deal of damage has been done to roofing and eaves. Given the frequent spectacle of ute-mounted ZU-23 heavy machine guns (“technicals”) blazing away in celebration recently in Libya, it’s understandable that NATO aircraft generally fly higher than their effective range. The 23mm explosive projectile would make a sieve out of an aircraft.

Perhaps they’ve not heard of blanks?

Thinking about it, blanks in a real conflict would be about as useful as a chocolate teapot. I remember that we had blank firing attachments on our SLRs in training in Australia, but they never saw the light of day in SVN for obvious reasons.

Celebratory gunfire in SVN would have been called “unauthorised discharge” and would have earned nasty regimental penalties.

Johnny Jump-ups

My bride calls these things “Johnny Jump-ups”.

Their botanical name is Viola Tricolor, and according to Wikipedia, they’re also known as Heartsease. They’re a common European wild flower, growing as an annual or short-lived perennial. They’ve been introduced into North America, where they’ve spread widely.

I’m glad they’ve decided to live at our place. Spring is on the way, and the garden is slowly coming to life.

Truckies

James St Toowoomba

Truckies have been in the news recently with the quaintly-named “Convoy of no Confidence” attracting media.

Here in Toowoomba (where it passed through about 8am on Saturday morning) it was scarcely noticed.

The normal gridlock that is James St looked like it always did at 8am – a bloody mess. It’s an area ideally avoided at the best of times, but occasionally it is simply plain dangerous.

James St is (in theory) four lanes in both directions, but it is narrow, and lined by very large trees. In Toowoomba, there are riots and disorder if trees are removed, so they’re left in place, and pruned so that they look like bonsai gone mad, and the larger trucks have to hug the centre lane to avoid them.

This compounds the gridlock, as sections of James St (which goes right through the centre of the city) are pretty steep.

Routinely, trucks catch fire or break down in James St, and you need a cut lunch to get from one side of town to the other if you use it. There was a major emergency a few years ago when a fuel tanker came to grief – police, firies, the whole deal. If one of these things did go up in the middle of the CBD, the scenario of ignited fuel running down the steep street doesn’t bear thinking about.

I am very familiar with truckies as I share the Warrego Highway with them, and each year the “sharing” involves 20000km of driving.

On the whole, the driving standard of your average Truckie has improved in the last couple of decades, mainly as a result of the cowboys being squeezed out of the industry because of escalating costs. The exceptions are the drivers of the cattle crates. They are always in a helluva hurry, their vehicles often look like they’re not maintained and they trail a mist of cattle piss which harbours Q Fever. It doesn’t do much for the amenity of James St. The pong remains long after the trucks have gone.

What is ironic about trucks on the Warrego, is the fact that it is paralleled much of the way to Roma by a perfectly good rail line. This rail line is almost always free of traffic, except for coal trucks from Felton. Nobody makes a quick quid out of rail in this country, so the trucks use the Warrego which is rapidly being wrecked by the grain trucks, the cattle crates and the mining infrastructure being carted west on the backs of the trucks.

The miners don’t give a stuff about the road, even to the extent where they casually wreck public infrastructure in the process.

Decades of corrupt policies have allowed this nonsense to persist, so it is now embedded in national infrastructure. The subsidies paid to road transport are amazing, and whilst they continue, nothing will change. (See p55 in the linked report).

Given the billions paid in subsidies to this industry, the slogan “Truckies carry this country” should read “This country carries truckies”.

Christians in Iraq

Iraqi Christians carry coffins during a funeral service at a church in Baghdad last year.

We’ve heard plenty about the triumph of democracy in Iraq.

It’s interesting to compare the lot of Christians in Iraq before the invasion of the Coalition of the Willing.

This quote from an article by Archbishop Cranmer sums it up fairy neatly.

 Saddam was too preoccupied with persecuting the Kurds and Shi’as to bother much with the Christians, some of whom, like Tariq Aziz, rose to the highest offices of state under his regime. By the time of the 1991 Gulf War, they numbered about one million. By the time of 2003 invasion of Iraq, they had fallen to about 800,000. Now there are about 500,000 remaining. And they live each day as if it were their last, having seen their churches bombed, their congregations sprayed with bullets, and their priests brutally beheaded and dismembered. Christian boys are being crucified and girls are being raped.

I can’t vouch for his account, but the numbers, at least, are accurate.

The Catholic Leader has also been reporting on the conditions for Iraqi Catholics.

It’s interesting that we hear so little about this in the MSM.

I guess it doesn’t fit the narrative.

Long Tan

I've been struggling to post something relevant to Long Tan. Working 500km from home (Charleville and Cunnamulla) has delayed this somewhat. Blogging on the go works in theory, but you need to get all your ducks in a row.

The duck called reliable wireless networking has been missing.

Surely everything that could have been written about Long Tan has been written. Nothing new can add to the stark simplicity that a company of diggers overcame impossible numerical odds and held out against a determined and well-organized enemy until relieved.

This year, the media story has been the awards. Somewhere embedded in this narrative is a metaphor for the war. The shameful reality that it took 45 years for these diggers to be recognized says it all. Our national understanding of this conflict improves with time, but it still has a way to go.

I should know. No soldier's service should be used to abuse or denigrate, but if you have the temerity to identify as a veteran opposing the political orthodoxy, that is precisely what happens.

The first time I saw Long Tan was at the beginning of our second operation in April 1970, when we brewed up after getting off the trucks and before setting out on a night insertion into the AO.

I remember thinking at the time of Frank Topp who was killed in the first ten minutes of the battle. He was attending Downlands college in 1961 when I arrived as a homesick 13 year old over 1000 kms from home. Frank hailed from Helidon in the Lockyer Valley. Home for me was North Eton near Mackay in Central Queensland.  In those days this boarding school was a pretty tough environment, and Frank behaved a bit like a big brother. For reasons I've never really understood, he was good to me back then. Perhaps he sensed that we were both from the wrong side of the tracks, different from the sons of landed gentry who comprised a fair whack of the enrollment.

He enlisted not long after leaving school, and ended up in RAEME. After a few years of service he transferred to Infantry, and arrived in Vietnam as a Reo in July 1966. He was posted to 6RAR a fortnight before Long Tan  and joined D Coy on the morning of the battle.

The last time I was at Long Tan was March 2006. It's a haunting place - full of the ghosts of brave young men.

Lest we forget.

One Picture....

Is worth a thousand words....

(Courtesy Pure Poison).