Autobiography
From MP to Missionary.
Where is Mongolia?
Chapter 2
Around the world
Home after 8 months.
New South Wales Parliament
Mercy Ships Texas
Mercy Ships UK
Chapter 3
My Early years.
North Sydney Boys’ High School
Sydney University 1964-1967.
Chapter 4
Conscripted !
Officer Training Unit Scheyville.
Vietnam?
Chapter 5
On Active Service.
Chapter 6
Living in America.
Home again: Collaroy Surf Life Saving Club.
Chapter 7
Nock & Kirbys
Warringah Council 1977 election.
Collaroy Surf Shop.
Council Sacked by Wran Government.
Chapter 8
Engaged and married.
Wakehurst Liberal Preselection.
The Gold Coast.
Shopping Centre Tenants Association.
Chapter 9
Liberal candidate for Surfers Paradise
Federal Member for McPherson.
Chapter 10
Parliamentary Christian Fellowship
Lyons Forum.
Chapter 11
Promoted by Downer
Genocide in East Timor
Croatia
Under fire in Sarajevo.
The Joint Standing Committee on Foreign Affairs, Defence and Trade
Chapter 12
Overseas travel.
India, Bangladesh and Nepal
Vietnam. South Korea and USA.
France, Kenya, Ethiopia and Eritrea.
Travelling in Australia.
Chapter13
Taiwan.
Sri Lanka and the Tamil Tigers.
Gun Control
Pauline Hanson and One Nation
Native Title
Chapter 14
Resignation from the Liberal Party.
John Howard, PM in waiting
National Crime Authority
Chapter 1
From MP to Missionary.
Where is Mongolia? Judy asked, typically under reacting to my bombshell. Our marriage had been punctuated by crisis and change. She had been married to a politician for 15 years so nothing really fussed Judy too much. But it was nevertheless a pertinent question.
My failure to secure a Senate seat at the 1998 election was not surprising. But the day after the election the realisation soon set in that my Parliamentary career was over. I had been the Member for McPherson in the House of Representatives for almost nine years. Now I was unemployed. A rooster one day; a feather duster the next! John Howard had been right.
I had met with the Prime Minister in his office at 4.00 on the afternoon of Tuesday 7 April 1998 to inform him of my decision to resign from the Liberal Party. I had accepted the invitation of Rev Fred Nile to become the Federal Parliamentary Leader of the Christian Democratic Party of which Fred was the founder. I also informed Mr. Howard of my decision to stand for the Senate at the next election that was due within 12 months.
Our meeting lasted about 45 minutes. Naturally Mr Howard was unhappy. He wanted me to defer my decision but the dye had been cast and as I left his office after about 45 minutes he shook my hand nevertheless warning me that I would not win a seat in the Senate under the CDP banner.
Politics is exciting. At the national level the adrenalin starts pumping the moment you walk through the doors to that wonderful building that is our National Parliament. To have served in the House of Representatives is to belong to a very exclusive club.
Former MP’s, particularly long serving ones, often struggle to adjust to life after politics. Many only leave reluctantly having been defeated at elections or in party preselections. Some stay on way beyond their use by dates but manage to retain their party preselections mainly by having built up solid support bases over the years. They have the power of patronage.
So waking up on that Sunday morning we were faced with another big decision. I was only 53 years old. Our three children were still at a private school and our income was about to be more than halved. But the real challenge was not so much a financial one. We really had to make a fundamental decision about our future or more correctly, my future. Would I go back into business or teaching? Or would we do something different.
I was aware that there were many missionary organizations that needed qualified staff particularly for service overseas. I met with a number including my old friend Tom Hallas, South East Asia Director for Youth With A Mission. Tom suggested a few possibilities one of which would eventuate much later.
In the meantime I also met with others, including Tom Tresseder, General Secretary of the Bible Society of NSW. Tom and I were close friends having met at the Southern Cross Ski lodge in Smiggin Holes shortly before I went to Vietnam in 1969. We skied many seasons together after I returned from the war. We worked together at Scripture Union in the early 1980’s so Tom knew me well. I think he knew my capabilities.
Tom asked me if I would consider a stint in a country where the United Bible Societies (the umbrella organization for the Bible Societies world wide) was having “some difficulties”. He described a problem that was essentially one where the translation work had become bogged down in a mire of controversy and personality conflicts.
Two “camps” had developed over time disputing key issues for the translation effort and the young church was divided. Tom thought and the United Bible Societies agreed, that I had the “people” and diplomacy skills to assist with a resolution to the problem that had been ongoing for a number of years.
Naturally I was keen to keen to find out more. I imagined, as Tom outlined the situation, that I might find myself in some tropical paradise in the South Pacific. But no, it was in Mongolia! I had some vague idea of where Mongolia was but had to consult a world atlas to be sure.
So I was able to answer Judy’s question when I went home and told her I had been asked to consider going to Mongolia for a minimum time of 6 months. It was not going to be an easy decision. We decided that if I was to go the whole family should go. That, of course, meant taking the children, Tim, aged 14, Sally aged 13 and Lisa aged 6 years out of school. Fortunately the United Bible Societies agreed to pay for the children to attend the small International School in Ulaanbaatar.
A number of meetings with United Bible Society’s South East Asian Director David Thorne sealed the deal. We would leave for Mongolia almost immediately. Fortunately the school year was almost over. I spent many hours in briefing sessions with David Thorne and others in preparation for what was obviously to be a difficult task.
Numerous senior UBS executives from the UK and USA had visited Mongolia on different occasions in an attempt to resolve the issues. But it had been realised that a much longer effort was needed and no one could be spared to focus exclusively on the situation.
Things moved quickly. The decision to go was taken in early November. We left Australia on 23rd December. We spent Christmas in Hong Kong. It was an exciting experience. Our children had travelled overseas to the United States with us previously but this was their first exposure to Asia.
There was a strong Christian presence in vibrant Hong Kong so the city was spectacularly decorated for Christmas. Many buildings were lit and Christmas Eve main streets were closed as hundreds of thousands of people celebrated out doors despite the cool weather. Christmas Day was much quieter and we experienced the loneliness that would be a feature of our time away from friends and family.
We departed Hong Kong on Boxing Day for Beijing where we planned to spend a few days acclimatising. I was surprised that Beijing was a big modern city. Our hotel was modern and comfortable. It was awesome to see Tiananmen Square and the famous Forbidden City. It was however very cold. It was the first time we had experienced sub zero temperatures and we were able to try out the extreme weather clothes we had purchased in Hong King in preparation for Mongolia.
Between Hong Kong and Beijing Judy had become quite ill with a “tummy” bug. Lisa, with impeccable timing succumbed as we arrived at Customs and Immigration in Beijing. Next day Tim and I were also vomiting. Only Sally remained well.
We arrived in Ulaanbaatar on New Years Eve 1998. We were unsure whether we would be met. The Mongolian Bible Society representative John Gibbens had made it clear that our involvement was not welcomed. This man was the cause of the problems that existed in Mongolia.
Fortunately, Interserve, another Christian ministry represented in Mongolia had been helpful in assisting us with the logistics of our transition. Interserve representatives were at the airport and quickly located us and helped us through the throng of unfamiliar faces.
The two-hour flight north from Beijing on Mongolian Airlines was uneventful despite the reputation for the airline rarely maintaining its schedules. This, as we found out, was often because of the weather conditions in Ulanbatar in winter where high winds made approaching the airport in the mountains hazardous.
As we approached Ulaanbaatar, which is at 1500 meters above sea level it was already late afternoon and we peered through the gloom for a glimpse of this mysterious place that was to be home for the next 6 months. The pilot announced that the temperature at the airport was –30 centigrade. Of course we knew it would be very cold in this city situated just 200 kms south of the border with Siberia. But only a week or so before when we left our home on the Gold Coast it had been +30 centigrade!
The airport terminal was quite modern. We were soon approached by the inevitable gaggle of beggars pushing and shoving for our attention. One particular poor man comes to mind. He handed us a note in English on a tattered piece of paper telling the sad story of how his ger (home) had burned down and his family had to survive without shelter or food. It was a moving story. But every time we visited the airport afterwards we saw this same man with the same note approaching new arrivals with his tale of woe.
Leaving the airport terminal we soon realised how cold 30 below is. In a word, life-threatening! Our first challenge was to find accommodation. We had not anticipated this being a problem but it was. Not only was it New Years Eve but we had not anticipated the fact that there were very few hotels and none was recommended. Fortunately our Interserve friends suggested we stay temporarily in an apartment of one of their staff that was away at the time.
We struggled up a few flights of stairs in the Russian apartment building with our many bags and tired children in tow. Judy sprung into action, as she would many times in the ensuing months, to prepare a meal with what few provisions were readily available. Sally was the last member of the family to become sick and she did so right on cue as we walked in the door. So much for us teasing her about her resilience to date!
We awoke and looked out in utter amazement at the snow and ice covered scenery sparkling in the weak sunshine outside our window. It was time to get rugged up and to go out exploring. It was New Years day 1999.
Mongolia is a truly enigmatic country; it is unique for its history, its culture, its geography and its climate. Today it is amongst the World’s poorest nations. But it was once a rich nation. Under the legendary Chinggis (Genghis) Khan the Mongolians established the largest empire in the history of the world between the years 1206 and 1367.
Even the great wall couldn’t keep them out of China. Chinggis Khan’s army was not the largest in the world at the time but it was superior in military tactics. The Mongols were excellent horsemen and were skilled with bow and arrow. They became the most formidable war machine the world had ever known. At its height the Mongol empire stretched from the South China Sea to the Danube River
Mongolia today is a bridge between Asia and Europe. It is bordered on the south by China and on the north by Russia. It was under Chinese rule for many years after 1732. In 1924 it became the word’s second communist state dominated by the Soviet Union. After the disintegration of the Soviet Union the Mongolians elected Communist Government in 1990. At the 1996 election however the Democratic Coalition achieved a landslide victory.
Mongolian culture was all but destroyed by successive periods of domination by China and Russia. The legacy of the Russians is readily apparent in the bureaucratic structures and in the rows of drab, poorly constructed apartment buildings. In some parts of the country these buildings have been abandoned. Now many Mongolians feel threatened by Western influence.
Like a land outside of time Mongolia was one of the last countries in the world to gain a Christian Church of any kind. A very few Christian missionaries had stayed in Mongolia between 1700 and 1900 but had very few converts. One missionary lamented “ it would be difficult to find another instance in which any religion has gripped a country so universally and completely as Buddhism has Mongolia.”
During the years after the country was closed after 1924 religious belief of any kind was actively discouraged and most symbols of religion including almost all Buddhist temples were destroyed. Many monks were murdered. It was not until after the country was reopened in 1990 that the first Christian converts appeared.
The Mongolian Bible Society was formed shortly after this time mainly due to the influence of John Gibbens. John was an Englishman who had been drawn to Mongolia during the late 1970s. He had returned to England and begun work on the translation of the New Testament into Mongolian. He convinced the United Bible Societies to support his translation work.
Later, Gibbens was divorced from his English wife and married a Mongolian woman he had met on one of his earlier visits. Gibbens became very fluent in the Mongolian language. He had also studied theology and trained as a linguist in the UK. John Gibbens started what was probably the first Christian church in Mongolia early in 1990.
Early missionaries to Mongolia were rugged, independent individuals. Otherwise they probably would not have survived. John Gibbens was that type of man. Some might have called him uncouth. Another was Rick Leatherwood, an American evangelist. On 28th April 1990 Rick led the team that publicly baptised 34 new Mongolian believers.
The Gibbens/Bible Society translation of the New Testament was published in August 1990.By 1993, as a number of missionary began to better understand the Mongolian language, significant mistakes and inaccuracies in the Gibbens translation became apparent. The translation read more like a commentary with the translator’s comments intertwining the translation rather than as footnotes.
However the most significant bone of contention was Gibbens’ refusal to use the traditional Mongolian word for God, Burkhan. Instead Gibbens used a term that meant “master of the universe” which was meaningless, particularly to older Mongolians.
It is not unusual for translation workers to face such difficulties. Usually they are resolved by consensus between the representatives of the various churches in the country. No such consensus emerged in Mongolia and there was serious tension between the two camps that had developed around the two main protagonists, Gibbens and Leatherwood who had an aversion to each other. A surprising degree of animosity existed between the two.
In the summers of 1992 and 1993 the Campus Crusade Jesus Film was shown in Mongolia. It used the unfamiliar terminology of the Bible Society translation. This further added to the confusion. Mongolians had never heard of the Master of the Universe. After the film was shown a Mongolian Christian would have to explain the movie using the traditional terminology.
In November 1993 a group of missionaries began to contemplate starting an entirely new translation project. All had long given up on having a dialogue with John Gibbens about their concerns. A year later the Mongolian Bible Translation Committee produced its translation of the books of John and then Mark in May 1995.These were widely accepted by the churches and missionary organizations. The whole New Testament was published by the MBTC in November 1996 and the whole Bible in July 2000.
Over time John Gibbens relationships with most of the young church leaders and with other missionary organizations deteriorated. Most aligned themselves with Rick Leatherwood and the MBTC. The Bible Society of Mongolia formed by John Gibbens and backed by UBS failed to meet the requirements of UBS for affiliation. UBS credibility was increasingly undermined.
Attempts by UBS executives to manage the situation proved fruitless in the face of John Gibbens intransigence. Gibbens skilfully manipulated any who attempted to mediate. With his knowledge of the Mongolian culture and language he was more than a match for anyone UBS despatched to meet him.
When John Gibbens was informed of the plan for me to go and stay in Mongolia for six months to “assist” him resolve some of the issues he was indignant and refused to cooperate. He wrote warning of the dangers that lie ahead for my young family and me. We were consequently not surprised when Gibbens failed to assist with our arrival despite the fact that he had at least two serviceable 4wd vehicles provided by UBS at his disposal.
On Sunday January 2nd we paid John Gibbens a visit at his fortress like apartment on the 6th floor of an apartment building close to the centre of town. He was quite hostile, refusing initially to even speak to us. I received a similar reception when I arrived at the Bible Society office early next morning. The “office” was in a dilapidated old building. Gibbens was reluctant to speak to me and refused me any accommodation in the office.
Over the next few days I persevered and John Gibbens finally realised that I was not going to go away and that his interests might be best served by cooperating. We developed an “understanding”. I would assist with improving the management of the office. There was also a need to carry out a stock take of the Mongolian language resource material published by the Bible society and others that had accumulated over a number of years and to consider ways in which it could be sold or dispensed. A review of distribution methods to remote parts of the country was also needed.
The staff at the office consisted of an English lady by the name if Liz Hart. Liz (who sadly passed away in 2004) was in her 60’s but had been in Mongolia for a number of years and was obviously a survivor. She lived in a small apartment cluttered with her few possessions. Liz assisted with the administration of a small humanitarian organization that operated a small orphanage and facilitated visas for a few other expatriate missionaries. There were some Mongolian staff working in the office as well but they were paid very little for whatever they were employed to do.
In the following days I spent many hours talking with John Gibbens on the occasions he made himself available. I tried to understand his perspective on the situation in Mongolia. I tried to be open and honest with him about my desire to help him. But only on rare occasions did he relax with me. To him I was a threat and nothing I could do or say was going to change that.
As I visited with pastors both indigenous and expatriate as well as other missionaries it did not take me long to realise that there had been a serious breakdown in communication. Gossip and innuendo was rife. Few people I met had a high regard for John Gibbens. Some held him responsible for many of the challenges the young church was encountering. There was a great need for a ministry of reconciliation.
Shortly after arriving I received a call from the American, Rick Leatherwood whom I had been anxious to meet. He came to my apartment and spent many hours giving me his side of the “story”. Rick was a fascinating man. He and his wife Laura had been hippies in North Carolina before becoming Christians. Rick had first visited Mongolia in 1988 and he and Laura had moved to Mongolia in August 1992 with their four young children and had lived for a number of years in a ger in the countryside ministering to the nomad population.
I formed a close relationship with Rick Leatherwood and our families became friends. Increasingly I found Rick to be credible. Ulaanbaatar was a small city yet John Gibbens had refused for years to meet with Rick Leatherwood to discuss their differences. He would cross the street to avoid any contact with him. Yet he wrote letters to anyone who would listen blaming Rick Leatherwood for the problems the church was encountering.
Judy and I had received work visas for Mongolia in miraculous circumstances. At the time we left Australia it was not clear to us how we were to proceed beyond Beijing. We had arranged to meet there with a Mongolian man named Basanhu, who we hoped would be able to assist us. It turned out he was a person with considerable influence. He had become a Christian in 1990, one of the first known Mongolian converts. This man took us to the Mongolian Embassy in Beijing and negotiated our entry to the country.
The plan was for us to be employed by a local television station, Eagle TV, which had been established by a group of American Christians. The station had been instrumental in providing Mongolians with their first uncensored news broadcasts and had assisted the Democratic Coalition to its stunning victory in the country’s second democratic elections in 1996.Judy with her excellent computer skills created a data base for the station’s video library and I recruited and trained a small sales staff to assist them with the selling of advertising to raise revenue.
Advertising was new to Mongolia. So was sales and marketing. It sounds incredible but it has to be remembered that this country was just emerging from 70 years behind the iron curtain. The American station manager of Eagle TV,Paul Swartzendruber and his wife Ann were amazing people who were so helpful to us. Their contribution to the spreading of the gospel in those early days cannot be understated. They laboured under great difficulties.
Judy and I struggled to complete two weeks of language training soon after we arrived. We managed to say enough words to be able to catch a taxi and get by at the markets and cafes though ordering was sometimes hit and miss. Sally celebrated her 13th birthday in 28 February. A few of her friends from the international school slept over in the comfortable little apartment we had moved into soon after we arrived. The only real problem with apartment living was that the Mongolians staple diet was mutton and when they were cooking a dreadful smell permeated the whole building. It literally made our children feel ill. We found there was no such thing as Mongolian lamb!
Soon it was springtime and the warmer weather brought fresh snow. The ice on the roads began to melt as daytime temperatures edged closer to 0 centigrade. The river that ran through the city began to flow. It was still as cold as –20 centigrade at night. But we had become acclimatised. On Sundays we attended the Catholic Church. Most of those attending weren’t any more Catholic than us but some of the mass was in English. The short sermon was preached in both English and Mongolian.
The old Catholic Priest whom I visited on a number of occasions had been a missionary in Japan for 30 years prior to his arrival in Mongolia, He well understood the difficulties being encountered by the United Bible Societies. His advice to me was invaluable.
In March I travelled down to Najing in China for as meeting with the Asia Pacific Regional Committee of the United Bible Societies. The meeting coincided with the celebration of the printing of the 20 millionth Chinese Bible at the Bible Society’s Amity Press. The Amity Press had opened with cooperation of the communist Government in 1987.
I reported in detail on my initial 3 months in Mongolia and made a number of recommendations. I explained that the situation in Mongolia was untenable. It was agreed that John Gibbens should be encouraged to return to England with his family at UBS expense to continue the translation work there where he could be properly supervised and where he would not continue to be a divisive force in Mongolia. In the meantime his financial support was to be curtailed.
When I returned to Ulaanbaatar and informed John Gibbens of the UBS decision he was contemptuous. He would not consider leaving the county. He closed the office and removed all of the equipment including the computers. He also took possession of the motor vehicles that had been provided by UBS. He refused to negotiate and as per usual began a tirade of email communications to any one who would listen berating UBS and me as its evil representative!
It had also been decided that I would proceed to go about the establishment of a properly constituted, broadly based and supported Mongolian Bible Society to carry on the translation work with or without John Gibbens’ cooperation. However Gibbens refused to hand over any of the translation work he had completed and which he kept securely in his home. He had on a number of occasions, accused other translation groups of stealing and publishing portions of his work though this was never substantiated.
UBS had invested a substantial amount of money in the translation work. However, the copyright effectively belonged to John Gibbens and he knew it. This was despite the fact that it was UBS who had paid him to the translation work. Disputing this matter in a court in Mongolia, even if that was contemplated, was not possible because Mongolia had no copyright laws. Whether English law might prevail in the circumstances was a moot point.
UBS generously offered us a short vacation in Beijing during April. We travelled down on the Trans Siberian railway. It took 30 hours to travel the 1500 kms. The train was very comfortable. It clattered slowly along for a night and two days through the ever-fascinating countryside. I sat for hours just taking in the sights. Children waved as we passed. Peasants were oblivious as they tended their gardens. We had two cabins with Tim and I sharing one and Judy with the girls the other.
It was fantastic experience. The train even travelled very close to the Great Wall for some of the way and at one time train stopped and we all disembarked to touch the remains of the wall. We didn’t venture far because we were unsure why the train had stopped or when it would start again. Not that it was too much of a problem because it went so slowly most of the time.
There was the usual bureaucratic drama as we dealt with Customs and Immigration formalities on both sides of the border. It was late at night. The Chinese officials insisted everybody be awake to check their passport photos against them. Lisa was not very cooperative. Then we had to contend with remaining on board while each carriage on the train was jacked up for a wheel change! There was a different rail gauge in China to Mongolia. It was like that in Australia until fairly recently.
In Beijing we enjoyed McDonalds, KFC and Baskin and Robbins! Our hotel had a 10-pin bowling alley and a swimming pool as well as some wonderful restaurants. There was nothing like that in Ulaanbaatar. The only takeaway food there was MFC (Mongolian Fried Chicken) but it was rumoured to be GI rations left over from the first Gulf war and was not very palatable.
We returned to Ulaanbaatar by air. It had been good to have a weeks respite from the stressful situation we faced. There was a lot more work to be done before our planned departure in July. I set about establishing a new Steering Committee, which was representative of the all the churches and missionary groups in the country. The plan was for that Steering Committee to eventually to appoint an Advisory Board and a new translation committee.
Of course that potentially meant starting the translation work all over again. But all along it was hoped that John Gibbens might cooperate with the new board. However, to the contrary, he made it known that he would continue with his translation work and publish it himself if necessary in due course. He appealed to friends and supporters in England to assist him financially and by making representations on his behalf to UBS headquarters in Reading, England. He maintained his barrage of rambling emails to all and sundry.
In the meantime the Bible Society Steering Committee came together well. They were focused on the development of a constitution for the new Bible Society of Mongolia. Even in that respect John Gibbens was being troublesome since he had proceeded to register himself as the Bible Society in Mongolia.
David Thorne, Regional Secretary of UBS visited in May and seemed pleased with the progress we had made. He did not seek to meet with John Gibbens. We agreed to appoint Korean Pastor K.S. Ahn to replace me as UBS Representative in Mongolia. Pastor Ahn had been in Mongolia for a number of years and was well regarded there.
David became quite ill while he was in Ulaanbaatar and we were fortunate to be able to take him to see a doctor at the German Embassy who suggested David return to Beijing for medical attention as soon as possible. We recognised David’s illness as a Satanic attack on him. We were acutely aware of the spiritual warfare being waged in Mongolia. Our work and that of other missionaries was opposed and frustrated at every turn.
The health of our family was always a concern. Thank God, we had no major problems. Medical facilities in Mongolia were very poor and the nearest decent hospital was in Beijing. Evacuation to Beijing of ex-patriot accident victims or those with life threatening illnesses was not uncommon.
An amazing transformation of the city and the surrounding mountains and countryside took place before our eyes as summer approached. Everything went from dirty white to brown to vibrant green. Flowers bloomed. The whole atmosphere in Ulaanbaatar changed as outdoor restaurants and market stalls opened to cater for the tourists who started to arrive in small numbers.
Local kids after being cooped up indoors for months swum in the rivers. The water was freezing but the sun was warm and the days longer. At least life became more bearable for the homeless who had lived underground during the cold weather. Many people kept warm huddled against the underground pipes system which the Russians had installed to carry steam to heat the apartments in the city. It was fairly basic but it worked most of the time.
I had joined an amateur theatre group called the UB Players. We rehearsed at the American Embassy for a play called the Matchmaker. It is the story on which the musical “Hello Dolly” is based. I had a couple of minor parts and it was a lot of fun. Judy helped sew the costumes for the play that was set in about 1900. We performed two nights in an old theatre in Ulaanbaatar. Just about every expatriate in Ulaanbaatar and a number of Mongolians saw the show.
Late in June we went camping in the countryside. It was long and bumpy journey in an old Russian jeep. We camped by a river and befriended some local nomads who loaned Judy and the children horses to ride. They had western saddles that we had taken with us. The Mongolians use roughly crafted wooden saddles. I was happy just to sit and read in the warm sun.
One evening a big storm came up over the mountains and from a distance it looked like it was snowing. But it turned out to be a heavy hailstorm and it turned the mountains all white again. Just like in winter but not so cold. We were sad to hear next day that our new friends had lost about 100 recently shorn sheep, killed by the sudden cold and hail that fortunately stayed away from our campsite.
The Mongolians started rounding up horses about 4.30 each morning. We would be wakened by the sound of pounding hooves. What magnificent horseman they are. Even the young boys are expert and many were preparing for the annual Naadam celebration. The main event is the 30 km horse race that is one of the most spectacular sporting events in the world. Between 300 and 600 horses take part. The jockeys are children aged between 4 and 11.A huge crowd gathers at the finish line with over 5000 of them on horseback.
It was amazing how little the Mongolian nomads had in terms of material possessions. They had lived in much the same way for centuries. Yet they seemed satisfied. Some had built summerhouses to use in the warmer weather but it was back into the heavily insulated gers with cow dung powered fuel stoves for winter! Men on one side and women on the other. No wonder families were close!
We left Mongolia on 3 July for Beijing. Many friends came to the airport to say goodbye. It was quite emotional. We were sad to leave behind a number of the missionary friends we had made. For many, Mongolia was their adopted home and they were committed to the task of telling Mongolians about Jesus. What a calling and what special people they were to survive there with few of the comforts we take for granted.
Chapter 2
Around the world.
We stayed at our favourite hotel in Beijing and departed early next day for London. Soon we were in Mongolian airspace. Revenue from the use of airspace was a significant source of foreign earnings for the Mongolian Government. Most airlines traversed Mongolia when flying from Asia to Europe.
Often we had been impressed by the magnificent jet streams in the clear freezing sky above Ulaanbaatar and envied those sitting back up there enjoying the view. Now it was our turn to contemplate the beauty of Mongolia looking down as we moved across the vast Gobi desert and the green steppes. I wondered whether we should have stayed longer. Maybe in time, I might even have become used to drinking airag, Mongolia’s national drink made of fermented mare’s milk.
Mongolia was an unforgettable experience, but ahead lay the exciting prospect of travelling in the UK and Europe and finally the USA before we returned to Australia. The British Airways flight from Beijing to London non-stop takes about 12 hours. It was mid afternoon when we landed at London Heathrow airport.
Before we went any further there was the urgent need to offload some luggage. We located the unaccompanied baggage department of BA and sat on the floor packing and repacking until we had only one bag each which was about half of what we arrived with. We arranged to send the other bags on back to Sydney where we would have to rely on Judy’s father Ian Lamrock to clear customs for us and store the bags until we arrived home. The cost of sending all of this unaccompanied baggage amounted to about the cost of a ticket to fly to Sydney but we had no option.
By now it was late afternoon and we were faced with the challenge of finding affordable accommodation in the city. We managed to find a room at a Holiday Inn that all five of us could share. Having made the reservation we were given directions from the nearest Underground station from where we were assured it was a “short walk”. I would not recommend taking the Underground with a lot of luggage from London Heathrow in the middle of rush hour. Or at any other time really. Despite the fact that the Underground services LHR the trains have little room for baggage.
LHR is on the Piccadilly line. This meant changing trains twice. Moving between stations on the Underground is not always straightforward particularly with suitcases. Then, the trains are only stationary for a short time before the loud speakers blare out the warning to “stand clear, doors closing” which is alarming when only half the bags are aboard.
It was wonderful to be in London in July. The weather was warm and the city sparkled in the sunshine. We did all the tourist things. The best way to see the sights is to buy a ticket on one of the many “topless” buses. A ticket lasts 24 hours and you can get on and off as often as you want.
One of the things we had missed most in Mongolia was the sea. Judy, enterprising as ever, had located, on the Internet, a seaside holiday park at Mersea Island close to London. To get there we took the train to Colchester and then a taxi. A causeway called “The Stroud” which is covered at high tide accesses the island. We rented an onsite van and enjoyed the facilities that included a small golf course and a large swimming pool. The ocean was disappointing though. There was not a ripple of surf in the English Channel. I don’t know what we had expected.
It was nevertheless a very relaxing week. Then it was back to London Kings Cross station for the train to Edinburgh. We had planned to visit there with Judy’s friends, Bob and Jenny Okenden. Bob and Jenny had worked with Judy as teenagers at Teen Ranch, a Christian campsite at Cobbitty near Sydney. Bob and Jenny had departed Australia in 1984 feeling called by God to establish a similar ministry in England.
However, the search for a suitable property led them to Ballindean House a 29 room Georgian mansion on 26 acres at Inchture near Dundee in Scotland. The property was derelict and with financial assistance from friends in Australia they were able to purchase it. Bob and Jenny were motivated by their desire to serve God and to reach young people with the Christian message. Now they are blessed with a fruitful ministry, which has since expanded to France, Poland and Romania.
We enjoyed a great time at Teen Ranch with Bob, Jenny and their five very Scottish boys, Ben, Abe, Dan, Tim and Zac. Only Ben was born in Australia. Our children, Tim, Sally and Lisa joined in the camp activities which included horse riding, canoeing, trampolining and swimming in the large lake.
We returned to London and took a British Airways flight to Istanbul. We had selected Turkey for a vacation because of its location and history spanning 10,000 years. We were not disappointed. Turkey is surrounded by sea on three sides, by the Black Sea in the north, the Mediterranean in the south and the Aegean Sea in the west.
The accommodation Judy had located in Istanbul on the Internet was almost adjacent to Sultanahmet Mosque more familiarly known as the Blue Mosque because of its magnificent interior panelling of blue and white Iznik tiles. We were not prepared for the early morning call to prayer that blared out from the mosque’s loudspeakers.
One could visit Istanbul for the shopping alone. The Kapali Carsi, or Covered Bazaar, in the old city is a labyrinth of streets and passages that house more than 4,000 shops. We visited most of them!
However the highlight of our visit to Turkey was our pilgrimage to Gallipoli. We headed south by bus from Istanbul to the town of Gelibolu and from there to the famous Anzac Cove. It was a memorable experience for us and the children to experience first hand the famous World War 1 battlefield.
Today Anzac Cove is tranquil and the scenery is stark but beautiful. It was a perfect July day, hot without a breath of wind. The children paddled on the edge of the sparklingwater. We didn’t think it would be right to go swimming there. There is something sacred about the place where the Anzacs landed at dawn on 25th April 1915. The water that day was stained red with the blood of those brave “diggers”.
Next day we visited the ruins of the famous biblical town of Ephesus (Efes) that was once the commercial centre of the world. It was quite surreal to wander the ancient streets in the footsteps of the Apostle Paul. The city, whose wealth and patronage supported its splendid architectural program, was dedicated to the goddess Artemis.
Her enormous temple, once considered one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, was rebuilt several times. Ephesus was an important port city until with the passing of time and erosion, the bay gradually filled with sand. Also, earthquakes damaged the city and by 527 A.D. it was deserted.
We enjoyed everything about our vacation in Turkey. It was inexpensive. The food was interesting and the people friendly. The crystal clear warm water of the Aegean Sea was wonderful for swimming. We were sad to leave but it was time to return to our home on the Gold Coast which friends had been minding for us.
We travelled via the USA where we visited friends including Australian, Stuart Gregor, whom I had first befriended during my time in San Francisco in 1972 –73. Stuart is Pastor of a large church in Stockton, California. Then it was on to Hawaii.
What a great place for a vacation. I re-introduced Tim to the surf at Waikiki and he hasn’t looked back. It was summer so there were no waves on the North Shore of Oahu. When you see it virtually flat at places like Pipeline, Sunset and Waimea Bay its hard to believe what its like when the winter swells hit the island’s coast.
Home after 8 months.
We had been away almost eight months. Now we faced the challenge of deciding what to do next. Our time in Mongolia had certainly whet out appetites for missionary work and we were encouraged by the fact that we had survived in the most difficult circumstances. I declined the opportunity to apply for the position of Federal Secretary of the Bible Society in Australia despite the prompting of a number of friends including Tom Tresseder who was still at the time General Secretary of the Bible Society in NSW.
A number of other missionary organizations asked us to consider positions but they were often in remote areas where high schools were not available for our older children. We did not want to put them into boarding school, which was an option. Nor did home schooling appeal to them or us. In the meantime we invested in a small telecommunications business to help supplement our income.
New South Wales Parliament
Just before Easter 2000 Fred Nile phoned me. It was a surprise, as we had not heard from him since our defeat at the 1998 election. Fred informed me that his wife Elaine was unwell and intended to resign her seat in the New South Wales Legislative Council. Fred told me that, after a great deal of prayer, they felt led to invite me to take Elaine’s place in the Parliament. It was a matter for the Party concerned to nominate a replacement when a casual vacancy occurred in the Upper House. This averted the need for a by-election.
Judy and I were in the process of making some long-term decisions about our future. We had planned a trip to Bundaberg, 375 km north of Brisbane over Easter to investigate whether we might like to move there to live. Kerry Blackman who had run for the Senate with me in 1998 was based in Bundaberg and had offered us the opportunity to become involved with him and a local aboriginal group in the development of a commercial property near Bundaberg.
Over Easter we thought and prayed about Fred’s offer. It would mean moving back to Sydney to live. At the time I had I neither desire nor inclination to re-enter politics. However this was an exciting opportunity. We telephoned Fred and told him that we felt that we should accept his invitation.
Judy and I travelled to Sydney soon after to attend a meeting of the NSW branch of the CDP where I was formally endorsed to take the seat at the time Elaine retired. We agreed on a timetable for this transition. We expected it to occur soon after the middle of the year, which allowed time for Elaine and Fred to complete a Parliament funded overseas study tour together.
It was agreed that I would move to Sydney in advance of my family to allow our children to complete the school year in Queensland. I enrolled as a NSW elector, as I was required to do, by setting up a self-contained flat at Judy’s parents home in Narrabeen
The Sydney press, generally hostile to the Niles, criticised this arrangement as I was still spending a good deal of time with my family and business commitments in Queensland. However the NSW Electoral Commissioner with whom I met to discuss my plans was completely satisfied.
However, Elaine Nile became increasingly unsettled by the press assault and felt it was damaging Fred and the CDP. A few days before Elaine was formally to resign she faxed me a short letter advising me that as she was now feeling better she did not intend to proceed with her retirement plans. Many people were shocked to hear of her decision. The NSW CDP Management committee asked her to proceed with her retirement plans but she refused.
In a speech to the NSW Legislative Council on 29th August 2000 Elaine criticised me for not following her instructions to move my family to Sydney sooner. However, I felt I had honoured my commitment and that the Niles’ understood and accepted the fact that we wanted our children to complete the school year in Queensland.
Judy and I were devastated by the way Elaine had treated us. I felt humiliated. A number of others were hurt and sorry that the Niles could not bring themselves to accept the change that many people welcomed as the way froward for the Christian Democratic party.
But there was nothing left for us to do but to move on. We sought some compensation from the Niles for the expenses we had incurred and for the fact that our business had suffered and we had declined the opportunity to move to Bundaberg. The matter of compensation was settled subsequently, though unfortunately not without the involvement and expense of solicitors. Elaine continued in the Parliament for some time and Rev Gordon Moyes took her place in 2002. Gordon was certainly an outstanding and worthy replacement.
Footnote: After returning home from England shortly before the 2004 election I was asked by the Christian Democratic Party to run under their banner for the Senate in Queensland. I declined. It seemed that the new Family First Party was more likely to be supported by Christians than the CDP. Many Christians are uncomfortable with Fred’s aggressive manner. Nevertheless despite our disappointment with the ways things turned out in 2000 I still have a high regard for him.
Mercy Ships Texas
Soon after the end of the Nile saga I chanced to call Tom Hallas at Youth With A Mission. Tom reminded me of our discussion 18 months earlier about Mercy Ships. Tom introduced me via email to Mercy Ships President Don Stephens. Don invited me to meet him in London where he was headed for a Mercy Ships International Board meeting.
Don and his wife Deyon were delightful and they, along with other Board members,encouraged me to accept the role of Vice President for Development at the Mercy Ships International Operations Centre in Garden Valley, Texas. The role would predominantly focus on developing relations with major donors with a particular emphasis on the funding for a new hospital ship. More about that later.
From London I flew to Dallas and then took a commuter flight to Tyler, Texas. The Mercy Ships base is on the outskirts of Tyler, which is about 150 km East of Dallas. It is a delightful, rural part of Texas. However it is something of a step back in time. Most people went to church on Sundays and Wednesdays. Local police were respected. Store staff was polite. Children heeded their elders.
Patty Driggs, HR Director assisted me with our visa applications and showed me around the Garden Valley area that encompassed the small villages of Van and Lindale. Patty sadly passed away in 2004 as a result complications from an illness she had contracted while serving with Mercy Ships in Sierra Leone.
I returned home excited by the prospect of going to live in the USA for the second time in my life. Judy shared my enthusiasm so we packed up again, secured tenants for our Gold Coast home and arrived in Texas early in 2001.It was winter but Texas does not experience the same harsh cold of the Northern US. In fact it was quite mild and to my absolute delight I was soon out playing golf on one of Texas better courses almost next door to the Mercy Ships base. Now that’s God’s provision!
I had been appointed to my job with little experience in fund rasing. However I understood that there were other qualified staff in the department who would respond well to good leadership and motivation. In reality I found the “department” I had been recruited to lead was almost non-existent!
We settled into temporary accommodation on the Mercy Ships base while we looked for a suitable home to rent in the surrounding area. The Mercy ships base located next to the YWAM Twin Oaks property covers over 100 acres and consists of a number of buildings some of which were office space and others accommodations and there was a large dining room and kitchen. The property had been used for a number of different purposes in the past before Mercy Ships acquired it.
Tim and Sally were soon enrolled at the High School in Van and Lisa at the Elementary school. The schools were just like we had seen on TV. Unlike in Australia the students did not wear uniforms. But discipline was good. The children settled in quickly and soon made friends. There were also many families working for Mercy Ships so there were numerous other children frequenting the base.
We were made welcome and despite a number of frustrations soon felt at home particularly after we rented a sprawling farmhouse about 15 minutes from the base. There was a large dam on the property and we soon found it was well stocked with hungry bass which were great fun to catch but not too good to eat. We were fortunate to have met the owner of this empty house and to find that he was sympathetic to our work and prepared to rent it to us for about half of what it was really worth.
Mercy Ships, like so many ministries, was strapped for cash. Maintaining two aging ships was extraordinarily expensive. Each required annual dry-docking. Funds were not available to properly maintain the Garden Valley base. My job suddenly became more crucial than I had imagined.
We also found that we had walked into a hornet’s nest with the decision having been taken to remove Mercy Ships from under the YWAM umbrella with the formation of a Board of Directors independent of the YWAM leadership. Many YWAMers who had been involved in the acquisition of the Anastasis felt that the ship had been “stolen” from them.
I had actually been aware before leaving Australia that the Mercy Ships organization in Australia and New Zealand led by David Cowey had defected. David had at one time been a close friend of Don Stephens and they had worked together for a number of years on the Anastasis. But now David was extremely antagonistic towards Don Stephens. A number of attempts were made to mediate the situation but in the end no agreement was reached. The result was the formation of Marine Reach, which successfully operates a small hospital ship under the YWAM banner in the South Pacific.
Many missionary organizations including Mercy Ships rely heavily on volunteer staff. This often meant productivity was low. People were sometimes unable to perform the tasks for which they had been engaged. Training was expensive and not always available. Fortunately I was able to associate myself with the Christian Stewardship Association and attend a number of their excellent seminars on fund raising and major donor development.
Some staff joined without having raised sufficient financial support from their churches, families and friends. For those living on one of the ships this was not so much of a problem but the living costs for land based staff, who usually also found it harder to raise support because they were not front line missionaries, were much higher. This meant that there was often a great disparity in living standards.
Poorly supported staff often lived in substandard housing and relied on the weekly food bank for their food. This was a Texas state system whereby low-income earners could receive stable food items at little or no cost. But it meant living on breakfast cereal, chocolates and cookies or out of date canned fruit or vegetables. At the same time others lived in very comfortable homes and drove expensive cars.
It would be difficult to describe the management style of Don Stephens and other Mercy Ships leaders. They would see it a being very “relational” i.e. high on the “concern for people’ scale of the management grid. I actually found Don, in particular, to be more on the autocratic end of the scale.
Peter Drucker, in his excellent book “Managing the Non-Profit Organization” (Harper Business 1990), writes about what he calls the “need for dissent.” Drucker says every organization “needs a non conformist”. I readily admit that was I a non-conformist. Unfortunately I think that was interpreted as obstinacy.
A number of talented people had become disenchanted for a variety of reasons and left Mercy Ships during our time there. At about the same time we joined Mercy Ships Don Stephens recruited Rob Gluskin who was to take over Don’s role as President. This was intended to free up Don to concentrate on public relations and fund raising.
Rob, a retired Corporate CEO was to be fully responsible for the day-to-day management of Mercy Ships. I had met Rob and his lovely wife Dianne in London at the time of my visit there to meet with Don Stephens Rob was a member of an auxiliary Board, which had responsibility for fund raising.
The Gluskins lived in a fashionable suburb of Chicago where they had a many friends. Rob was reluctant to pack up and move to Texas. However Don at his persuasive best won the day and Rob and Dianne arrived in Garden Valley early in 2001. They were, like us, the first of only a few new staff to escape the requirement to undertake a 3-month Discipleship Training School. Instead a special 3-week abridged program was devised.
Rob and I found as we got to know each other that we had much in common. One thing we enjoyed doing together was playing golf at the nearby Garden Valley Country Club. Soon after his much-heralded arrival as President, Rob was effectively demoted to Chief Operating Officer. Rob endured this humiliation and got on with the job. However, he became increasingly disillusioned and towards the end of 2001 he told me he intended to resign. I was devastated. Rob had begun to bring a degree of professionalism to the management of Mercy Ships.
Meanwhile the UK office of Mercy Ships in Stevenage was experiencing difficulties. The CEO had resigned. A number of the Mercy Ships UK Board members had also resigned over the conflict with YWAM. UK Board Chairman, Lord McColl was struggling with the situation. Lord McColl was himself a renowned surgeon who frequently visited the Anastasis and performed surgeries on board as volunteer.
Mercy Ships UK
One of Rob Gluskin’s last acts was to offer me the role of Mercy Ships UK CEO. This took me by surprise as we were already making plans to return to Australia with the possibility of me becoming CEO of the fledgling Mercy Ships Australia. Judy and I prayed about the matter. The irony was that we had on previous occasions turned down job offers in the UK. It was simply not a place we desired to reside mainly because of the miserable weather.
However, this time we felt it was God’s calling for us. The decision was made a little more difficult because Tim, not yet 18 years old, was soon to graduate from High School in Texas wanted to live back in Australia. This we understood and supported. Only Sally and Lisa would move to London with us
I met with Lord McColl in Washington DC. Also with Ann Gloag, the charity’s largest benefactor in the UK who had a great deal of influence. They endorsed my appointment and I went to London soon after to have the decision approved by the UK Board.
The Mercy Ships UK office in Stevenage was the biggest outside of the USA and substantial funds were raised there mainly to be repatriated to the USA where all accounts were centralised. The UK Charity Commission had investigated and approved this practice. Our move to London was planned for June of 2002 and as the time came closer I made a number of trips across the “pond” to familiarise myself with the operation there.
There was also the high priority of finding housing in the town of Stevenage about 20 minutes by train north of London and also suitable schools for the children. After we departed the USA in June we travelled via London back to Australia for some furlough. Judy finalised arrangements for us to rent a small semi detached house close to the Mercy Ships office.
Morale in the office was low since the departure of the former CEO. A number of staff had left or were in the process of leaving at the time of my appointment. My first priority was to restore confidence by providing leadership and vision for the future. Staff numbers had dwindled and those remaining were having difficulties coping with the workload.
After a wonderful vacation in Sydney and on the Gold Coast we returned to London. I found it liberating to have a great degree of autonomy as I got on with the job. Lord McColl the UK Board Chairman to whom I reported was very busy with his role in the House of Lords and rarely became involved.
Ian McColl had introduced former UK Prime Minister John Major to Mercy Ships and was instrumental in him becoming co-Patron along with his wife Norma, who was a Dame in her own right. John Major undertook a number of speaking engagements for Mercy Ships mainly in the USA where he, being a former PM, fascinated Americans.
One of John Majors speaking engagements in the US coincided with the front-page revelation in the UK newspapers that he had had a long-term affair with one of his female ministerial colleagues when he was PM. Everyone was shocked by this news since the mild mannered Mr Major was thought to be an unlikely philanderer. The world’s press converged on the hotel where Mr Major was staying and Mercy Ships received a large amount of unwelcome publicity.
On one occasion early in 2001 John Major visited the Mercy Ships International Operations Centre in Garden Valley to officially open a new Warehouse facility. Nobody quite so important had ever visited the area and the who’s who of Tyler Texas attended the opening and the dinner later in the evening at the prestigious country club. The Van High School band provided a Texas rendition of the British national anthem, God Save the Queen.
John Major was clearly impressed, as never was such a fuss made of him back home. In fact these days he is regarded as having been a very poor Prime Minister described towards the end of his tenure as being “in office but not in power.” Tony Blair replaced him as PM in 1995 and the Conservative Party was consigned to the political wilderness where it has remained ever since.
The financial difficulties facing Mercy Ships had been significantly exacerbated by the new ship project I mentioned earlier. In 1999 wealthy Scottish businesswomen Ann Gloag donated 4 million pounds to purchase the 16,572 tonne Droning Ingrid, a Danish rail ferry built in 1980. The ship was formally renamed “Africa Mercy” by Mercy Ships Patron Dame Norma Major, wife of former PM John Major.
However the cost of converting the ship into the state of the art hospital ship she was planned to become was significantly underestimated. The Africa Mercy was to have 6 operating theatres, a 78-bed ward including an intensive care unit, cargo space and cabins for 400 crew. The ship was relocated to Newcastle upon Tyne in the north of England where the conversion work was to be carried out. Shipyard costs were huge and the whole project came to a complete stop at one stage for many months when the shipyard went bankrupt.
The cost of the project frequently had to be revised to the point where in 2004 it was approaching 30 million pounds. The launch date for the new ship was put back and back. Raising funds for the project was very difficult. Many high net worth individuals as well as Trusts both in the UK and USA did not see the merit of such a venture particularly when there were so many cost effective alternatives for the provision of medical services in Africa.
Recently Ann Gloag convinced her friend Sir Richard Branson to “loan” a substantial amount to the project. Sir Richard attended a fund raising dinner I organised in London. His mild manner belies his reputation as a tough businessman. Mrs Gloag, no slouch herself, must have had to do some fast-talking. I ran into Sir Richard in the private lounge at Sydney Airport recently and reminded him of the dinner he had attended at the Haberdashers Hall in London. He graciously told me how much he had enjoyed the evening.
Hopefully the Africa Mercy will be commissioned in London in 2006. No doubt it will be a gala affair and again much credit will go to Don Stephens who pressed on with the project often against the advice of colleagues and in the face of great difficulties.
Our two years in the UK went quickly. There were many highlights. Living near London was wonderful. It is such an exciting and interesting city. The proximity to Europe allowed us to enjoy a number of inexpensive vacations. Dr Keith Thomson a UK Board member, who became a good friend, owned a villa in the Algarve in Portugal that he generously allowed Mercy Ships staff and other friends to use. We did so on two occasions. We also had a wonderful holiday in the south west of France. France is a great place to visit. The countryside is beautiful and the people are friendly especially if you speak or try to speak a little francais.
I also thank God that the UK office prospered under my leadership. Staff numbers grew from 8 to 22 as we recruited people from as far away as South Africa and Australia. Donation revenue increased by over 50%. We made some wonderful friends amongst the staff. Also Peter Barnes our Vineyard Pastor and his wife became special friends. Peter and I played tennis most weeks. We moved indoors in the colder weather. Dave Morris the Baptist Pastor in Stevenage also became a close friend and he shared my passion for golf.
During my time at Mercy Ships I was privileged to visit the “Caribbean Mercy” in Honduras and Nicaragua. Also the Anastasis in Benin and in Sierra Leone on a number of occasions. It was always a great privilege to see the ministry in action serving the poor in the name of Jesus. The dedication and professionalism of the staff was awesome.
Settling down back in Australia has not been easy but we believe it’s the right place for us at the moment. Who knows what the future holds. Maybe the best is yet to come. Recently Australia’s richest man Kerry Packer died at the age of 68. He had suffered a number of serious illnesses. But even his billions could not buy him health. So we thank God for our good health. I recently heard someone describe happiness as: having something to do, having someone to love and having something to look forward to. I am a happy man!
Chapter 3
Early years.
I was born on 3rd January 1946 a few months after the end of the Second World War. I often joked that my dad, Walter had come home from the war early or at least I hoped he had! In fact he had returned home from the Middle East on 4 August 1942 and married my mother Rita in Sydney on Christmas Eve 1943.
My first home was in Newport Beach on Sydney’s northern beaches in an old “weekender” which was owned by father’s mother and stepfather. Newport at the time was a sleepy little hollow. My father had been a member of the Newport Surf Life Saving Club in the years before the war. The first school I attended was a kindergarten in the old surf club building. I still have wonderful memories of it.
My father had volunteered for service in the Second World War and was always proud that he had done so. His service number NX3221 reflects his early entry into the 2nd AIF and volunteer status. He enlisted in the AIF on 24 October 1939 at the age of 27 years and left Australia on 10 January 1940 with the 2/1 Field Regiment bound for the Middle East. His service records indicate that he was something of a larrikin. Not that that was so unusual for a “digger”. He had refused an offer to attend Officer Training at one point preferring to remain with his “mates.”
Dad’s service in the Artillery caused serious hearing damage that was to plague him for the rest of his life. This problem caused him to be transferred to Signal Corps. Like so many young soldiers he also took up smoking tobacco and was unable to quit throughout his life eventually succumbing to throat cancer in 1987.
After returning to Australia Wal, as father was best known, was posted to Queensland where he met my Mother, Marguerite (Rita). Dad was discharged from the Army on 19 October 1944. He had done his bit. Before the war he had been a salesman. The were called “travellers” at the time because I suppose that is what they did.
Wal turned out to be a very good salesman and eventually joined the American soap and toothpaste giant Colgate Palmolive. He frequently sold more soap and toothpaste than any of his peers and rose through the ranks to become General Sales Manager for the Company in Australia at a young age and was eventually made a Director. It was expected he would become the next Managing Director.
Unfortunately my father’s lack of education caught up with him. It was about the time younger men with degrees in marketing or finance started to dominate senior executive ranks and Dad was passed over. He was very disappointed but at least the company continued to employ him on a substantial salary and we continued to live well as we had done for many years.
It hadn’t always been easy. The early post war years must have been a struggle. My dad still liked to drink with his mates down at the local pub after the war. The way my mother tells it she gave him an ultimatum on this activity and to his credit he stopped and I rarely remember him going to a hotel to drink. It was a different story at home where he still liked a few drinks but he never got drunk and he was a good father in many ways. My mother never worked outside the home after she got married. She was fully occupied caring for my father, my two brothers and myself. Mother is now 90 years old and lives at the RSL War Veterans Retirement Village on Collaroy Plateau in Sydney
My father was adamant that his three sons should have an education, which he insisted was essential to get on in business or any other field. After completing primary school in Roseville on Sydney’s exclusive North Shore where we had moved when I was about 9 years old, I went to North Sydney Boys’ High School. This was one of the best public high schools in Sydney and was one of a small number of “selective” high schools that required a fairly high score in an IQ test for entry. The academic standard was high and I rarely rose to any great heights. I did rather better at sports, particularly swimming.
The North Sydney Boys’ High School motto in Latin is “Vincit que se Vincit” which means in English: “He conquers who conquers himself.” Like most school mottos it probably means little to the students who wear it on their pockets. I have realised over time how true it was. Many of life’s real battles are battles with one’s self.
I became a Christian when I was twelve years old. I had not been blessed by having been born into a practicing Christian family. My parents were strictly Christmas and Easter churchgoers. But they were good people and they sent me to Sunday school at a young age. There I first heard all of the old Bible stories. I also first heard about Jesus.
In 1958 I first attended a boys’ camp called Camp Howard run by the Church of England youth department. It was based in the Royal National Park, south of Sydney. For years the church had struggled with the government which had set about resuming all of the other privately owned properties in the park. I was later to serve for a number of years on the Council of the Youth Department of the Church at the time some of the battles were being waged and ultimately won. The properties on the shores of Port Hacking are still in use today. Hundreds of thousands of people have enjoyed them.
Camp Howard was named after the Archbishop of Sydney at the time, Howard Mowll. The camp was modelled on similar camps in Canada, which a young Sydney clergyman named Neville Bathgate had visited in the early 1950’s. Neville convinced Archbishop Mowll that similar camps should be conducted at Port Hacking.
I loved Camp Howard with its outdoor activities including canoeing, swimming and archery. There were also daily scripture lessons. By the end of my first week at Camp Howard I had decided to follow Jesus. This decision had a significant impact on my outlook on life. The Christian walk I began that day in 1958 has continued until this day.
Neville Bathgate passed away on September 7 2005 a few weeks short of his 80th birthday. He had taken early retirement from the ministry in 1975 and moved to Byron Bay where he lived a simple lifestyle. I visited him there regularly. When we returned for living in England in 2004 I found that he had suffered a serious stroke and was living at a nursing home in Bangalow in northern NSW. I found him there but he was in very poor health and unable to communicate. Shortly before he died I told him how much he had meant to me in my younger years and that I owed him a debt of gratitude for his faithful ministry to me and many other young boys and girls.
North Sydney Boys’ High School
My first day at North Sydney Boys’ high school was awe-inspiring. My mother accompanied me and=we were escorted by one of the prefects into the school assembly hall where the Headmaster, Tom Mason, welcomed us.
I joined the Inter School Christian Fellowship group at school and was an enthusiastic participant in its weekly lunchtime meetings and annual camps. It was 1959, the year of famous evangelist Billy Graham’s first Australian crusades. I was involved in the “follow up” of fellow students who had “gone forward” at the crusades in Sydney, which were held over a number of nights.
I was very enthusiastic about my faith in those early days. I was certain I would become a clergyman. Many of the Leaders I encountered at Camp Howard were students at Moore Theological College in Sydney and some afternoons after school I would take the train to Newtown to visit them at the college and would stay for evening chapel and for dinner.
I also spent most of Sunday in church related activities in Roseville singing in the choir and eventually teaching in the Sunday school. My parents never said too much about me being so “religious’ but they must have wondered about it. By choice I declined to participate in sport on Sundays. Not that there was much sport on Sundays in those days when even the movie theatres were closed and there were certainly no hotels open.
God seemed very real to me through these years. I never went to sleep at night without having a “quiet time”, a time of Bible reading and prayer. Perhaps I was something of a “goody two shoes” but it didn’t seem to stop me from being popular with my friends. I spent a lot of time at the beach. Generally we hitchhiked to get there and back.
I first rode a surfboard in 1961 just as the surfing era was beginning. I was given my first surfboard for Christmas in 1962. I don’t know where dad had got them for myself and my younger brother Chris. The were crudely made of fibreglass covered polystyrene foam.Most of the boards at that time were made of balsa wood. We strapped out new surfboards on the top of the car somehow and tried them out at Manly beach before going home for our Christmas lunch. I remember it was an unusually cold and wet Christmas day but no such things as wetsuits then.
It was quite a thing to become a Prefect at school. The prefects were generally more feared that the teachers for their capacity to delve out all sorts of devious punishments for just about everything from running in the play ground to having your coat off outside of the school grounds. As we entered our fourth year of high school we had two years to go and there was growing speculation as to who would comprise the prefect body from our year. The selection process was complicated involving ones peers, the incumbent prefects and the teachers. As the time grew near it seemed increasingly likely that I would be appointed a Prefect.
My award of a school Blue for swimming during 1962 had enhanced my chances considerably. I rarely got into much trouble and that probably helped a bit as well. In addition I was one of the highest-ranking members of the school cadet corps at that time. Almost everyone joined the cadets and most of the prefects were amongst the senior ranks of the Cadet Corps.
When the Prefects were announced I was there amongst them. It was then up to the elected Prefects and once again the Staff to select the School Captain and Vice Captain. Again there was a lot of speculation about who would fill those esteemed roles. In those days the School Captain was revered particularly by the younger students and had enormous powers. Some of my friends had told me they thought I was well in the running to be Captain but the possibility had never really occurred to me. The position went most often it seemed to someone much more academically able than I was.
My main rival for the position was the dux of our year and also a good athlete and an officer in the cadet corps as well! The day for the Assembly at which the big announcements were to be made arrived. Minutes before we were to file into the school assembly hall I was called aside and told to have a speech ready. I couldn’t believe it. It was the proudest day of my life to be named as Captain of this great school. It only seemed a short time before that I had walked through the gates for the first time. I was on cloud nine as I travelled home to Roseville to tell Mum and Dad. But Chris, my younger brother who was two years behind me at the school had beaten me home to break the news.
I don’t think I did a great job as school captain but I learned a lot of valuable lessons. It was a very busy year and as the end of the year approached I was badly prepared for the Leaving Certificate and nobody expected me to pass. Yet a miracle occurred and when the results were published I had not only scraped through but had actually done well enough to make it into Sydney University with a Teachers College scholarship.
After completing school I went to work at my usual Christmas sales job in the Sydney Nock and Kirby’s store. My cousin Graham Nock was the Managing Director of the Nock and Kirby’s, a chain of hardware stores which was virtually a household name in NSW. Ironically a young John Howard had also had a Christmas job at Nock and Kirby’s.
My uncle, Sir Norman Nock, was at that time still Chairman of the Board of Directors. He had also been Lord Mayor of Sydney in 1938 and 1939 and was married to my father’s sister, Ethel. Sir Norman had also served as Chairman of the Board of the Royal North Shore Hospital for many years and as President of the National Roads and Motorists Association (NRMA).
It had occurred to me that a career in retailing was a possibility and my father had arranged for me to meet with both Woolworths and Coles where he had a lot of friends. However my cousin offered me an opportunity to join the Nock and Kirbys and study full time. My only obligation was to work some of my holidays and in return I received an allowance as well as my tuition fees and other expenses.
Sydney University 1964-1967.
I enrolled in the faculty of economics at Sydney University and my university years started at the beginning of 1964.My passion was for surfing rather than studying. Two of my classmates were John Hewson and Nick Greiner who was to become Premier of NSW. Both were much more studious than I was. At the time John Hewson was an enthusiastic Christian and was active in the Sydney University Evangelical Union. We never spoke about it when we were in the Parliament together. He was by no means the only person I had known who had apparently given up or lost their enthusiasm for their faith.
It is said of John Hewson that it was his ambition, which caused him problems. God only knows but many prayed for him while he was Leader of the Opposition. One of my Christian colleagues told him he would never become Prime Minister in his own strength. John Hewson was very likeable. We played golf together on a number of occasions while he was Leader. He was a very good golfer with natural ability.
I spent a lot more time surfing than I did studying. That was probably the main reason it took me four years to complete the three-year course. The course was not that demanding as far as attendance was concerned as it required only about three and a half days attendance each week. And there were the long vacations. During those years we surfed at every beach from Noosa Heads in Queensland to the South Australian border. We did it in old Peugeots, Volkswagens, FJ Holdens and my own Morris Mini. We never spent much money and when the money ran out we headed home with just enough for the petrol.
The surfing movement was cultist then as it is today. It was a way of life. It was absolutely addictive. I still surf today though I have other priorities. Also age does catch up a bit, as it requires super fitness. Nevertheless there are many of those who started surfing in the sixties and seventies still enjoying it as a sport. I don’t think I’ll ever stop entirely.
In 1995 I had a bad accident at Snapper Rocks on the Southern end of the Gold Coast. I collided with some rocks and smashed my wrist badly. I spent a few days in hospital and have a steel plate and several screws still in place to keep it together. It was very embarrassing to be recognised by the ambulance driver and the staff at the hospital.
On another occasion in 1998 I had a incident occur in the surf at Currumbin on the Gold Coast. It was during the 1998 election campaign. I was stressed and tired and shouldn’t have tackled the fairly big waves but it led to a highly publicized and embarrassing incident of short term memory loss which has never really been explained. I didn’t get hit on the head, as I had no obvious injuries. But I don’t remember what happened and friends found me wandering along the beach in a confused state of mind.
It lead to another night in hospital and numerous tests. The ultimate diagnosis was that I had suffered an episode of transient global amnesia. This condition was not uncommon though the cause was unknown and there was no treatment. My neurologist told me it might occur again though it often didn’t. In fact I did have another episode again while I was surfing at Cornwall while we were living in England. The cold water may have been a factor there.
My obsession with surfing was not shared by many of my Christian friends during my years at university. My non Christian surfing friends all knew well where I stood and I think they respected me for my beliefs even though I was occasionally the butt of jokes. I managed to stay out of trouble most of the time. As serious surfers, when we were away we surfed all day and were too tired to do much else except eat and sleep, generally in cars or on the beach. We’d be up before dawn ready to paddle out at first light. When the waves weren’t right we’d have to find some other form of excitement such as jumping off cliffs into the ocean or even fishing if we got desperate. Anything that didn’t cost much.
Occasionally we’d sit around a country pub exchanging surf stories. Back in the sixties and early 70’s there weren’t a lot of surfers around and we mostly knew each other. On country roads it was usual to pull over if a car with surf boards passed by to say “g’day” and check out what the surf was like up ahead. Some surf spots were closely guarded secrets but it wasn’t long before most surfers knew where to look. Some of the best spots were almost inaccessible by today’s standards. We didn’t have four wheel drive vehicles and it often meant a long walk struggling with a heavy surfboard.
Surfing in winter or in colder places like Victoria was a real test of endurance and commitment. Wet suits were primitive if you were lucky enough to have one. These were crudely made and caused problems with chafing which became very painful. But that didn’t stop us if the waves were good.
I was about 18 or 19 years old on one trip down the South Coast of NSW where I was enticed into the local pub for a few beers probably for the first time in my life. I was so sick the next day I had to sit and watch my friends enjoying themselves in the surf. I didn’t have another drink of beer for many years. It had the same effect on me as when my great school friend Rick Bloore and I smoked a packet of cigarettes after dancing classes one night when we about fourteen. I was so sick I never smoked again.
One feature of the sixties in Australia was that we had hardly heard of marijuana or any other drugs. I’m thankful I didn’t have to contend with that temptation. All of that was to change rapidly in the next decade.
Chapter 4
Conscripted !
I turned 20 on January 3rd 1966 and my marble came out in the National Service ballot. The Vietnam war was at its height and the Menzies Liberal government had introduced selective conscription in 1964. This was not the first compulsory national service scheme introduced in Australia. In fact it was the Labor Government of John Curtin that had first introduced national service in 1943.
It came as a bit of a shock to get that letter in the mail. As I was a student I immediately applied for a deferment. This was granted but it was only until I completed my degree, which should have been at the end of 1966. However the slow progress I had made meant I was left with two subjects to complete part time in 1967. The deferment until the end of that year was approved.
One option to avoid full time service was to join the Citizens Military Force for a period of six years part time service. I decided that the full time option was better and once I become used to the idea it seemed like it would be an adventure if nothing else.
I started dating my first serious girlfriend in 1964. She was the sister of a close school friend. I had turned 18. Gail was just 15. We went out for almost five years. Gail had left school to work with Qantas and went off around the world with a girl friend in 1966. She returned as a seasoned traveller. I was jealous. In those days airline staff were able to travel extensively at a very low cost. Meanwhile I struggled as a penniless university student.
Early in 1967 I entered a competition to raise money for the Spastic Centre of NSW. The prize was a trip to London courtesy of Qantas as part of a promotion to introduce a special “pacesetter” fare. I was already a budding entrepreneur. My big project was a large harbour cruise on Sydney harbour for which I hired the two biggest harbour ferries available. Thousands of people turned up and the whole thing almost ended in disaster as drunken revellers caused some damage to the boats. It was reported in the Sydney press the next day. But even after I’d paid the damage bill there was still a big profit and I won the trip to London.
In June 1967 I headed off having been granted leave from my studies for a month and permission from the Government to leave because of my pending national service. I was working virtually full time at Nock and Kirbys doing some special projects and taking the bus up to the University to attend lectures. Coincidentally, my cousin Graham Nock was leaving for the USA on business at about the same time so it was agreed that I would meet him there after we had finished in London.
In those days it took over thirty hours to get to London on the Boeing 707. We travelled via Jakarta, Singapore, Bangkok, Bahrain, Cairo and Amsterdam. We were on the ground in Cairo in the early hours of the morning as the Six Day War between Israel and Egypt erupted. We were told that we were lucky to be able to leave.
The flight was Qantas’ inaugural flight to Amsterdam so it was part of the plan to spend a week in Holland, which we did before going on to England. We left by ship from the Hook of Holland. It was the first time I had slept on an ocean going vessel and it was exciting to wake up next morning with the coast of England coming into view through the mist.
There was considerable interest in the group of young Australian “pacesetters” in London and we undertook a number of Public relations commitments as part of the deal with Qantas. Our escapades were covered in Australia in Today’s People magazine under the headline “Our youth jets off to see the world”.
Leaving London I flew to New York and then on to Montreal where I connected with Graham Nock and we spent two or three days at Expo 67. It was an exciting experience for a 21 year old. We then visited a number of cities in the USA calling on businesses similar to ours looking for new ideas.
At the time there was always a lot to learn from America. This was America only twenty years after the McDonald brothers had first opened their doors for business. For me it was a vibrant and stimulating country. Graham had attended university in Boston so we visited friends of his there before driving on to New York City where we were guests of the National Retail Merchants Association as Graham at the time was President of the Retail Traders Association of NSW.
On the West Coast we had meetings with retailers including one at the department store where Graham had also worked for a period of time in the 1950s. We met the Personnel Director there, Howard Henderson, and discussed the possibility of my joining them at some time in the future.
In southern California I couldn’t wait to get to the beaches I’d heard so much about. But they were disappointing compared to ours in Australia. On the way back to Sydney I stopped off in Hawaii, rented a surfboard and paddled out at Waikiki. Not much of a surf and there were no waves at all on the already famous North Shore of Oahu either. The big swells came in the northern winter and it would be a few years before I’d experience them.
Back home there was the serious task of completing university and passing final exams. As soon as this was over the Army was waiting. I’d hardly walked out the gates of the University when I received my orders to report to the Recruiting Depot.
I said goodbye to the family and Dad drove me out to the depot. I wonder what he was thinking as he dropped me off. Although he never said much about his own service I was proud of him for what he had done in the war. He never cared much for ANZAC Day reunions but he always wore his Returned from Active Service badge on his lapel. We waited around most of the day in true Army style and finally climbed aboard the waiting buses and headed for the Army camp at Puckapunyal in Victoria.
We spent our first night in the Army on a bus en route. We arrived at the 2nd Recruit Training Battalion in time for breakfast. Then it was uniforms, vaccinations and haircuts. Pop star Normie Rowe was in our intake and there was a rush to collect his valuable locks from the floor of the barbershop. By the time all of this was finished we looked more like prisoners than soldiers with our close-cropped hair. We were prisoners in a sense. There was no escape for the next two years.
My years in the school cadets meant that I was not a stranger to army life. Nevertheless there was a huge adjustment to be made. After a few weeks the opportunity was presented to apply for officer training. After having endured a number of psyche tests, interviews and practical exercises I was selected and sent to the Officer Training Unit at Scheyville in NSW . It was good to get out of “Pucka”. It was extremely hot and dusty at that time of year.
Officer Training Unit Scheyville.
The Officer Training Unit, Scheyville had been established in 1965 to train selected national servicemen to be infantry platoon commanders. The rapid build up of numbers in the Army created the need for a substantial number of additional junior officers.
Neither the Royal Military College, Duntroon nor Officer Cadet School, Portsea was able to meet the demand and were designed to provide the Army with career officers. The OTU course, based on that at Portsea, was an intensive 6-month program. From each intake of around 2000 around 100 were selected for OTU. There was a 30% failure rate.
From the moment we stepped off the bus on to the parade ground at Scheyville, near Windsor, north of Sydney we were subject to almost constant physical and psychological harassment. It was a life changing experience for all of us.
From dawn until late in the evening six days a week we were engaged in training activities. Some of it was in the classroom, some in the bush and some on the parade ground. We were never away from the scrutiny of the elite staff of Officers and Warrant Officers who had the task of preparing us to lead men into battle. Everything was done with a sense of urgency. We were constantly reminded that our lives and the lives of others depended on us getting it right.
The sheer physical demands were exhausting and yet minor misdemeanours were punished with extra duties or parades which meant an even earlier start to the day and for some it became a vicious circle from which there was no way out. Some of the most testing times were classroom sessions on hot afternoons or in the evenings. It was an offence to fall asleep and despite our efforts to help each other there were some who just couldn’t stay awake. As a Christian I felt that I had that God was helping me to make it through.
On Saturday afternoons we played sport with the same intensity we did everything else. Rugby Union was the favoured sport. I had played rugby at school and throughout my time at university but never reached great heights. At Scheyville I made an impact and was selected in the rugby team that played a few games against other similar establishments. It probably improved my ratings.
If you survived the week without being confined to barracks (CB) or were not out on an exercises, leave was granted from Saturday evening until Sunday night. I was fortunate to live in Sydney because it meant I could go home. Those from interstate often had nowhere to go other than into Sydney but given the chance nobody stayed at the camp. It was a relief to get back into civilization even for a few hours and to see my family and girlfriend, Gail.
The course at Scheyville was divided into two halves. The initial period was junior class, which was designed to recognize those who had the potential to graduate. After three testing months the Senior class graduated making way for a new intake of Juniors. OTU was designed as a Battalion with a number of Companies. The Officer Cadets in senior class were given non commissioned officer (NCO) and Warrant Officer rank and were responsible for some of the activities of the Junior class.
Seniors without rank were assigned as “fathers” to the new officer cadets to assist them to assimilate. In their early days any misdemeanour by the junior class man led to the senior being punished so there was plenty of motivation for the senior to do his job well and plenty of aggravation if the junior let him down.
I was promoted to Sergeant. Sergeants had some special privileges including their own shower block. Small things counted! I was proud to sew on my three stripes. It also encouraged me that I was on track to graduate. Senior class was a lot easier than junior class. Perhaps it was because one had learned how to survive. I also had made some friends amongst the staff who could be helpful.
The course climaxed with a harsh 10 day exercise. By this time of year it was winter and we had to contend with the freezing temperatures. It also rained most of the time and to say it was uncomfortable is an understatement. My good friend Jock Holland from Melbourne had broken his leg playing rugby so he was fortunate not to have to participate in the exercise other than to be there. But he had the advantage of living with the staff who were relatively comfortable in their tents and with their prepared meals. I saw Jock once during the ten days and almost envied him his plaster cast.
The exercise was designed to simulate battle conditions with new challenges each day. Everyone had turns at taking different responsibilities. The pressure was really on when one was called upon to act as platoon commander or sergeant with the instructors breathing down your throat creating one disaster after another to contend with.
Finally it was over and we waited for that familiar and welcome sound of the helicopters coming to pick us up and take us back to Scheyville and a few days leave. Everyone had lost weight and had not changed clothes or showered for the whole time. Most of us had not taken our boots off for the ten days because you never knew when you might have to move out immediately and the idea of stumbling off into the bush in the middle of the night with no boots was not very appealing.
We had a couple of weeks to go. This required a few more practical exercises and formal examinations. Then the night before graduation when we were actually invited to the Scheyville Officers’ mess. Most of us had never been in an Officers’ mess before and it seemed so luxurious.
If this was the sort of thing we had to look forward to it had all been worthwhile. Graduation Day was a big event for which we drilled for hours. Dad and Mum were there. I wonder if they were as proud of me as I was of myself. That night we had the graduation ball. Just before midnight Gail pinned on my “pips”. I was now an Officer in the Australian Army.
The Scheyville experience was unique. Many of those who survived it would say it made them as men. Many went on to successful careers in a range of fields including politics. Tim Fisher, Deputy Prime Minister at one stage and Jeff Kennett a former Premier of Victoria are Scheyville graduates. At Scheyville we learned to be survivors and we learned to be Leaders. It was serious business though one of the secrets to success was not to takes oneself too seriously.
It has been said that leaders are born. I don’t think so. Those born with outgoing personalities or above average height seem to have a start. But there is much more to leadership and many of the behaviours exhibited by leaders can be instilled with training. At Scheyville there was a diverse group of men with all different personalities and all shapes and sizes. They had been identified as potential leaders but that latent potential had to evolve. Scheyville was a place where that was made to happen.
Although we were all trained to be infantry platoon commanders we were posted to all different corps either by choice or because of our qualifications. Graduating 23rd in my class I could have chosen any corps but being an accountant I was posted to the Ordnance Corps which was essentially responsible for the provision of supplies of everything from arms and ammunition to uniforms and food. I thought I might gain experience which would be useful in my intended business career.
My first posting after Scheyville was to Victoria Barracks in Sydney. I could choose to live out and commute to work in an office each day. I didn’t have to wear uniform every day. Victoria Barracks was the Command Headquarters and senior officers frequented the mess. The General Officer Commanding Eastern Commend(as it was then called) had his own quarters on the base so we didn’t see so much of him but there was enough brass around to ensure a young Second Lieutenant kept a low profile.
However the Officers mess was like a five star hotel and for a while I chose to live in. It wasn’t bad having a cup of tea delivered in the morning and leaving your shoes outside the door each night to be polished. It was also only a few minutes from some of the Eastern suburbs beaches so I was often able to go down for surf before work.
However, before I reported to Victoria Barracks I had to endure six weeks of Corps training at Bandiana near Wodonga on the NSW/Victoria border. It was still winter and it was the coldest place I had ever been. I made a token effort in the course and was glad to get out of the place.
The most vivid memory I have of it is the serious car accident I had rushing home to Sydney one Friday night. I rolled my MGB sports car down an embankment after losing on a bend. I’d narrowly avoided a head on collision as I slid across the road and the car ended up upside down and wrecked. I was still in my army uniform as I stumbled up on to the road but I was unhurt.
The hitchhiker I’d picked up for company somewhere along the way was likewise unhurt. I left him on the side of the road to mark the spot and hailed a ride into the next town where I reported the accident to the local constable. The policeman took me back out to the site of the wreck where we located my passenger waiting by the side of the road.
We organised to have the vehicle towed and then it my turn to hitchhike the rest of the way to Sydney. It was in the early hours of Saturday by the time I got home and it wasn’t much of a weekend. I should have died that night. When we saw the car in the panel beater’s yard it was hard to know how I had survived.
Victoria barracks was too good to last and sure enough it wasn’t long before they gave me a real job at the Ordnance Depot at Moorebank near Holsworthy in NSW. Here I was designated as a Supply Officer and had responsibility for the maintenance of supply of a range of products. It was like being a buyer in a retail store so it suited me. The Army had a large computer to assist with stock control and accounting and this was my first real exposure to that technology.
It was the forerunner to the modern point of sale systems now widely in use in the retail industry. Basically the computer tracked inventory levels and usage patterns and taking account of delivery lead times and other variables, generated orders automatically.
I lived in the Officers mess at Moorebank and went home at weekends. I coached and played in the unit rugby team, which played midweek and continued to play sub- district on Saturdays. It was a lot of fun and the end of my national service was in sight as the end of 1969 loomed.
Vietnam?
I had, when asked at one stage, indicated my preparedness to go to Vietnam if the opportunity arose. It now seemed unlikely. But one morning my Commanding Officer called me in and told me there was a posting available to the Headquarters at Vung Tau. If I wanted it I should let him know before lunch. As I only had three months to go I’d have to sign on in order to complete the twelve months in Vietnam. I phoned Dad to tell him and my Uncle Norman to make sure he’d be happy to do without me in the business for the extra nine months.
Suddenly I was flat out with preparations to leave for Vietnam within a month. I had to complete two weeks of a Battle Efficiency course at Canungra Jungle Training Centre. That done, it was vaccinations and dozens of other formalities including the making of a will, which was part of a checklist. Then a week of pre-embarkation leave. Most of it I spent skiing at Smiggin Holes in the NSW snowfields
My close friend Tom Tresseder was involved with the Southern Cross Ski Lodge, owned by the Anglican Church, at Smiggins and it was there I met him for the first time. In subsequent years I spent many happy winter weeks there. Tom says I skied so recklessly that week he was sure I was actually trying to break my leg to avoid going to Vietnam. I don’t think that was the case but I only knew one way to ski and that was as fast as I could and generally the quickest way from top to bottom.
Then it was time to go. I said goodbye to the family and reported to Watson’s Bay staging depot after lunch to prepare to fly out that night for Saigon. Formalities completed it was time to wait again. I had long become used to the Army’s unique way of doing things. It was always hurry up and wait.
Anyway I decided to wander down the road to where my old friend Neville Bathgate from Camp Howard days was the Anglican Rector. It seemed like a good way to spend those last few hours before leaving for the war with the person who had been my spiritual mentor years before. We talked and prayed together.
Soon it was time to head to the Sydney airport, which was awash with military activity with the contingent of replacements and reinforcements leaving that night. My father had organised a private room for my farewell. There were a large number of friends there. It was a moving occasion as the time drew near and the room hushed as my friend from Camp Howard days the Reverend Jim Doust prayed for me and for my safe return. Then it was off to war just like my dad had done only 30 years before.
On the Qantas 707 I found myself sitting next to another young Lieutenant, David Earley who was leaving behind a pregnant wife. He was an army helicopter pilot who was heading for the Task Force base at Nui Dat. I hadn’t met him before but I soon found he was a committed Christian. We had some good fellowship through the night before landing in Singapore and that fellowship was shared on a number of occasions in the following year. I took opportunities to go up to Nui Dat and stay with Dave and went out with him on some of his helicopter patrols. It was exciting stuff and a welcome break from my desk job at Vung Tau 50 kms down the road.
It was a weird feeling as we descended into Tan Son Nhat airport in Saigon. It was obvious there was a war going on. There was military hardware everywhere. On disembarking the two things that struck me most were the smell and the oppressive heat. This was to be my home for the next year. What had I let myself in for? After the usual long delay I climbed aboard the “Wallaby Airlines” Caribou crewed by the RAAF for the trip to Vung Tau.
Chapter 5
On Active Service.
Vung Tau airport was very busy with aircraft movements almost 24/7. The Australian Logistics Support Group base was situated close to the airport in the sand dunes and on the edge of the beach that went all the way to the Long Hai hills. It would have been idyllic were it not for all the barbed wire and other evidence that there was a war going on. The little town of Vung Tau had been a favourite resort at the height of the French occupation. The South China Sea is warm all year round.
The ALSG had rarely come under direct attack but the way the Viet Cong operated it was always a possibility. Personal weapons were required to be carried everywhere on the base. The base housed the Australian Field Hospital so there was the constant reminder of the war going on around us as the sirens sounded to alert the hospital staff of an incoming medivac helicopter.
As Administrative Officer of Headquarters Company my role was that of was an Adjutant/Quartermaster. The position was usually filled by a Captain as it involved some important responsibilities, particularly so for a young Second Lieutenant. My immediate superior was a Major who was Company Commander and I was 2IC. Eventually in recognition of this fact I was promoted to 1st Lieutenant, which was very unusual for a “nasho”. I never did get the Captains pay however.
Vung Tau was also the site of the Badcoe club named after one of Australia’s VC winners. This facility was for soldiers from the Task Force base to enjoy some R&R. It had a large swimming pool as well as equipment including surfboards and sail craft for beach activities. There were also a couple of speedboats for water skiing.
Incredibly there was actually surf here. I couldn’t believe it. There were a number of keen surfers and it was a rush during the mid-day break to get the best boards. It seemed so unreal to be surfing here on a barbed wire enclosed beach in the middle of a war. There were no sharks but there were nasty little sea snakes which could inflict a painful bite. But that wouldn’t deter a surfer with good waves and no crowd to contend with.
On other days the surf was flat but it was perfect for sailing or water skiing. The Base Commandant, Colonel Max Simkin was a keen water skier and we became friends because of my interest in water sports. One day I was driving the boat for the Colonel when I took off too quickly and he damaged his knee. He was limping for days and I was the butt of many jokes about my future. Max retired as a Brigadier after a stint in Washington as military attaché. He retired to Queensland to grow tea trees but passed away a few years ago.
Another surprise was to find a surfboat donated by the Collaroy Surf Club on the beach. My family had been heavily involved with the Collaroy club with my two brothers Chris and Mike amongst the star surf swimmers there. Chris was a powerful pool swimmer so surf swimming suited him well. He won two individual Australian Surf Championships. Personally I had not been involved with the “clubbies” as they were called. The surfers and the “clubbies” were often in conflict with each other on the beach. More about that later.
However my loose connection with surf lifesaving and my own swimming prowess and still water life-saving experience led to my appointment as Captain of the Vung Tau Surf Club. Besides being a bit of fun I had the task of mounting a beach patrol each day. It was easy to find volunteers to spend the day at the beach but often difficult to get them released from other duties, as everyone was very busy. Nevertheless we had a core group of keen lifesavers that did what they could. In lifesaving parlance, “no lives were lost on our beach.”. We also had an old surf reel and line but it was never used and soon rusted away.
For another extra curricular activity I became an announcer on the Australian Forces Radio station.. The station was well equipped with donated apparatus and was situated on the RAAF Base a few kilometres from the ALSG. I presented the “Top 40” each afternoon after a minimal amount of training from a few professional DJs who were also doing their “nasho “ time. For obvious reasons I really enjoyed Robin Williams performance in the movie “Good Morning Vietnam”.I actually met the real Adrian Cronauer, whom Robin Williams played, in Washington in 2002. He is real character.
There was of course a very serious side to life in Vung Tau. Although we were back from what you would call the front line we were still very much involved in the war effort. Each day we would be briefed on the situation and on activities involving ANZAC and American forces. As information was received that our troops were in action it became tense especially as news of casualties came through. Our HQ Company had the task of processing the personal effects of those who were killed and sending these back to Australia. It was a job handled personally by the Major and myself and obviously was a sad task.
There was a chapel on the base and I attended services there on Sundays where I met a number of other Christians. But everyone was busy during the week often working day and night so it was hard to organise any regular meetings. There were both a Roman Catholic and a Protestant Chaplain based at Vung Tau. I came to know them well and often dropped in on them for a tea or coffee. The YMCA also had a facility where I made some friends. Other than that it was a lonely time.
But God was close and I came to realise how personal He is. Many nights when I would go to my quarters after dinner and read or write. I studied for and sat the exams for entry into the Chartered Institute of Secretaries and Administrators to add to my accounting qualification. My year in Vietnam was a time of great spiritual growth.
Officers had individual rooms in long huts, which gave some privacy. It was always hot despite plenty of natural ventilation. The buildings were sandbagged up to the widow sills. Sleeping under a mosquito net was obligatory. I always slept with my loaded 9mm Browning pistol under my pillow and hoped the sentries were vigilant as they patrolled throughout the night.
The shower block featured cold water only and it was rationed in the dry season. There was no shortage of water in the wet season as the skies opened every afternoon for a few hours. I was working in a hut with a corrugated iron roof and the pounding of the rain made it impossible to have a conversation.
“Prickly heat”, a nasty and painful rash under the arms and in the crotch was a common affliction with the constant heat and high humidity. I suffered one or two bouts. Dysentery, a much more serious illness was not uncommon.
One afternoon after vigorous game of rugby in the inter unit competition I suffered a broken nose. Later, while I was getting patched up at the hospital I complained of a nagging backache. This was duly recorded on my medical records as “war caused”. Rugby was played in sand shoes late in the afternoon or early morning to avoid the heat as much as possible. Games were generally followed by a barbecue and a few cans of beer.
Alcohol was unrestricted for those who were off duty although it was not allowed in the barracks. Loaded weapons and alcohol did not mix and there were a number of incidents. Unauthorized or accidental discharge of a weapon was a serious offence. One night as Duty Officer a drunk soldier waving his loaded rifle around confronted me. The situation was critical until I convinced him to put it down. This same soldier had caused some problems up at Nui Dat and was subsequently sent home with serious psychological problems.
Vung Tau was a so-called free town. This meant soldiers could go there unarmed and in civilian clothes if they were not on duty. The town itself was filled with bars and prostitutes. Many soldiers spent all their free time there and were frequently at the Hospital needing shots of penicillin.
I rarely went into Vung Tau on leave. It seemed like a good place to stay away from. It was sad to see married men with Vietnamese girlfriends with whom they even stayed over-night despite the strict prohibition on doing so. This led to problems with their wives back in Australia.
One of my jobs was to deal with personal matters affecting soldiers. Sometimes a wife reported that her husband was not corresponding with her. Sadly the reverse was sometimes true and an investigation back in Australia would reveal a problem. This had to be communicated to a soldier who was already in a stressful situation. I learned a lot from handling these sensitive matters.
On Christmas Eve 1969 there was a tragic incident at the main gate to the ALSG. I had just attended a Christmas service at the chapel when I was summoned to the hospital. There I was confronted with the grim task of identifying the body of one of the young soldiers in my unit who had been accidentally shot in the head as he returned from leave in Vung Tau. I had seen the young private earlier that day. What a Christmas present.
The subsequent investigation revealed that Corporal Chris Wallace was manning the M60 machine gun. Corporal Wallace, upon recognising his mate had jokingly pointed the gun at him in a mock challenge at the same time apparently cocking the gun. The gun discharged a number of rounds one of which hit Private Malcolm Robertson in the head and killed him instantly. Members of the guard had been consuming alcohol.
Chris Wallace was court marshalled on a charge of manslaughter. I regarded him as a good soldier who had never been in trouble. He played in our unit rugby team. I think he was a regular soldier as opposed to a “nasho” and up until that time had good career prospects. Corporal Wallace was discharged from the Army and spent some time in a civilian prison back in Australia. In a sense he was a casualty of the war and no doubt he has lived to regret the events of that Christmas Eve.
I had to identify Private Robertson’s body prior to a formal autopsy being performed at the morgue in Saigon. The body of another Australian who had been killed on Christmas day was also there awaiting the process of being prepared to return to Australia for burial, as was the practice. Almost all of the 500 Australian killed in Vietnam were returned home for burial. Only a few, at the request of their families were interred at a war cemetery in Malaysia.
At the morgue I was horrified at the number of mutilated bodies awaiting preparation for return home mostly to the United States. The reality of the war hit me very hard. I stood silently outside in front of a large stack of metal coffins. The Australian Doctor who was to carry out the post-mortem asked me if I wanted to stay and watch him perform the autopsy but I couldn’t get out of the place quickly enough.
Everyone arriving in Vietnam started counting backwards to their RTA (Return to Australia) date. On day one you had 365 days to go and most of the men routinely marked off the days. It was a good feeling to “get some time up” and start to look forward to five days of R&R outside of the country after six months. The alternatives were Hong Kong, Bangkok, Taipei or back to Australia. Many soldiers chose to meet wives or girlfriends in one of the Asian cities.
I chose to go back to Sydney to see my family. I remember the Pan-Am pilot coming on the PA just out of Sydney with a plane full of Americans paging one soldier by name to announce that there was good news for him. His mother and father had flown from the USA and would be there to meet him. I don’t think it was what the GI had in mind. It caused a good laugh and of course it wasn’t true. Sydney and Kings Cross in particular was a popular R&R destination for the Americans. My 5 days R&R was quickly over and soon it was back to the war.
The second half of my tour of duty went quickly. I took numerous opportunities to travel to other parts of the country including some of the American bases. It was obvious the Americans were suffering some severe morale problems. Drug use was rife. This contrasted with the Australian bases where drug use was not such a problem.
Many Americans I met at Vung Tau and other places were severely traumatized by their war experiences. At this time the American losses averaged one hundred killed-in-action per week. Many young Americans I met were terrified of being sent back into action. So many of them felt that their political leaders were just using them as pawns.
Much has been written about the Vietnam war. Perhaps it could or should have been won. I believed then and still do that the Communist threat was real at the time and that the war was justified. The South Vietnamese people didn’t want Communism. Unfortunately their own political leaders were corrupt and inept and they didn’t do much to help their own cause.
The war came to an end on April 30th 1975 when North Vietnamese tanks triumphantly entered Saigon. There was graphic TV coverage of the final few hours as the American Embassy was evacuated. Many civilians who had worked for the Americans would have been in grave danger had they not been allowed to leave. Saigon was renamed Ho Chi Minh City though it has never a popular name for the freewheeling city.
I have been astounded on the occasions I have been back to Saigon to see it growing at a fast pace with apparently few constraints imposed upon it from the North. Communism never really sat well with the people of this city which now has treble the per capita income of the rest of the country, earns half of the whole county’s export earnings but has less than 10% of the country’s 77 million population.
I have often been asked how as a Christian I felt about being involved in the Vietnam War. Wasn’t it wrong for a Christian to kill? There is a difference between killing and murdering and all killing is not murder as CS Lewis points out in his book Mere Christianity. He goes on to say that in his opinion “it is perfectly right for a Christian judge to sentence a man to death or a Christian soldier to kill an enemy” The Communists were our enemies as far as I was concerned.
We know now that communism was a flawed ideology not least because of its promotion of atheism. Religion has always been an integral part of humanity. It could not be legislated away or simply banned. Despite the Communist dogma religion is still real to large numbers of people in China and Vietnam. Both official and underground Christian churches are thriving.
The other major post world war two conflict on the Korean peninsular led to the division of that country into two. The South is prosperous and has the highest proportion of practicing Christians of any nation on Earth. The Communist North is an economic and social disaster.
There’s not much point in speculating how the world might have been different were it not for the Vietnam War. It would have made a lot of difference to a lot of lives of course. It would have changed the course of American history with President Johnson serving a second term and maybe then no President Nixon or Watergate.
Suddenly for me there was one day to go I packed up and said my good-byes. I hardly slept at all and was ready to leave the base at the appointed time before daybreak. It was to be a long day beginning in the usual style of having to hurry up and wait. We waited at Vung Tau for the flight to Saigon and then at Saigon for the Qantas flight home. It was a strange feeling to see a whole new contingent arrive on the flight that was to return us to Australia. I was profoundly thankful to be going home in one piece.
Finally, soon after lunch the plane lifted off. There was a subdued cheer as we left the war behind. Yet, many did not. They took it home with them. Others, including a number of my friends didn’t make it home alive. Later that night we arrived in Sydney. My family and friends were waiting. It was a wonderful occasion. I proudly sported my two “pips” and my campaign ribbons. The next morning I woke up and realised Army life was over for me. I was entitled to an immediate discharge. One day the war in Vietnam, the next the streets of Sydney. I proudly wore my uniform for the last time as I completed formalities and walked out into civvy street.
Many veterans have made a pilgrimage back to Vietnam although some have vowed never to return. A number have become involved in aid programs in Vietnam. Relations between the Governments of Vietnam and Australia are now very good. A recent study of the health and morbidity of Vietnam Veterans has confirmed what many of us feared. Many Vietnam Veterans are in poor health and the evidence is that the rate of certain types of cancers amongst Vietnam Veterans is much higher than the incidence of those same cancers in the general population.
A few years ago the average age at death of Vietnam veterans was only 53.5 years. There is also conclusive evidence of higher rates of birth deformities and other medical conditions in Vietnam veteran’s children. Veterans of all wars are liable to pay a price for their service of their country for their whole lives. Although compensation may appear to be generous it can never replace the good physical and mental health or normal family life, which they would otherwise have enjoyed. I have been fortunate to remained in good health for which I thank God.
I believe I played a valuable role whilst I was in the Parliament as an advocate for Veterans.. I always took the opportunity to speak in the Parliament on legislation affecting Veterans. You can’t remind people often enough about how much our Veterans are owed and we also have a responsibility to educate young Australians about the roles Australian service men and women have played in every war in modern times.
It is pleasing that successive Governments have been prepared to allocate funds for education purposes. One of the highlights of my time in the Parliament was the celebration of the 50th anniversary of the end of World War 2 in 1995. The “Australia Remembers” program of events was a huge success and my friend Con Sciaaca the Labor Minister for Veterans Affairs at the time did a wonderful job.
Chapter 6
Living in America.
Being a civilian took some adjustment. It wasn’t that I was conscious of any aggression towards me because I was a Vietnam Veteran. It was simply the challenge of coming down off such an adrenaline high. Everything seemed dull in comparison. There was nevertheless a lot to look forward to.
I went off to New Zealand for a few days with some friends for a short break. I think I looked a bit like a native. My skin tans easily but after a year in the sun it was very dark with a yellow tint from all of the anti malarial tablets I had consumed.
Then it was time to report back to Nock and Kirbys. Before I returned home from Vietnam I was invited to stay in the Army. I had certainly enjoyed it and it was tempting but I had a job to which I was committed to return. Nock and Kirbys had already invested a fair amount of money in me. Some Scheyville graduates who stayed in the Army did well. At least three I know of made the rank of Brigadier.
I began work as Assistant to the Managing Director. This was a new position, which had been created for me. My cousin Graham was Managing Director so it looked a bit like I was going straight to the top. The truth is I’d been working in the stores since I was fourteen and had done most of the basic jobs.
In the role that had been created for me I was given the opportunity to closely observe the day-to-day management of the Company that by this time was in a strong growth phase. Regional shopping centres had just begun to appear in Australia and well-established and successful retailers were in demand as tenants. Being based in the George Street, Sydney store also enabled me to spend some time each day dealing directly with customers that was after all what our business was all about.
At the beginning of 1971 I turned 25 years of age. The family had moved to Collaroy to live in a large home overlooking Long Reef headland. I got right back into surfing and playing rugby this time at Lindfield Sub- District Club where I played in the first grade side. I was playing well and enjoying it. Towards the end of that year with Graham Nock’s approval I made contact with my friend Howard Henderson at the Emporium Department store in San Francisco to discuss the possibility of my going to work there for a period of time.
The Emporium conducted a very highly regarded Executive Trainee program into which it was difficult to gain selection. Howard agreed to employ me in the program and we begun the long process of gaining permission from the American authorities to work there. I was finally granted a visa and again said goodbye to everybody and headed for the USA in mid 1972. I had arranged to have some vacation time in Hawaii on the way so I had my surfboard with me.
Again this time in Hawaii it was summer as it had been on my previous visit in 1967. However I did manage to find some reasonable surf. Then it was on to San Francisco where I was met at the airport by Howard and taken to the guesthouse in the city where I was to live for the time being.
I started work immediately. It was an exciting environment. The training program started from the basics, as a number of participants were straight out of college. There was a combination of classroom sessions combined with on the job training. It was very competitive. I was impressed with the quality of these people who had chosen a career in retailing.
In Australia the retailing industry at the time was seen as a provider of jobs only as a last resort. Very few University graduates were employed in the industry. Salaries were poor and hours were long generally including Saturday mornings. In America trading hours had been almost completely deregulated. I found myself working a five-day week, which usually included Saturdays.
However I came to appreciate a day off during the week as the local municipal golf course wasn’t crowded. It was really too cold for surfing in Northern California although there were a few intrepid surfers who frequented the beaches near San Francisco. It was the first time I had seen surfers using crude leg ropes to save them from a long swim in icy waters if they took a wipeout. I thought at the time what a dangerous practice it was but it soon revolutionized surfing. Later I was to find good surf not too far down the coast at places near Santa Cruz although the water was still painfully cold.
I soon found myself as Manager of the Sporting Goods Department and later at Christmas time the Toy Department as well. The Emporium in San Francisco was highly regarded and had a number of branch stores in the Bay area. The Downtown Store was situated on Market Street at the bottom of Powell Street where the cable cars start the journey over to Fisherman’s wharf and back.
Most of the major retailers including Macys were on the famous Union Square but locals and tourists always found the