Dedication
Dedicated to the memory of Phil Rhoden and Stan Bisset,
wise warriors, generous mentors and true friends.
And to the Digger … then & now.
For
Lisa, Nathan, Kate & Sarah
Contents
Cover
Dedication
INTRODUCTION
1. BEN ROBERTS-SMITH VC, MG
2. IEDS
3 THE ESSENCE OF THE DIGGER
4 THE ORIGINS OF THE DIGGER
5 GALLIPOLI AND THE ANZAC SPIRIT
6 SHELLED TO HELL
7 BETWEEN THE WARS
8 HERE WE GO AGAIN
9 THE BLOODY TRACK
10 ALAMEIN AND AFTER
11 THE SPIRIT OF THE POW
12 THE PACIFIC ‘FEW’
13 NEW GUINEA AND BEYOND
14 WAR IN KOREA
15 THE VIETNAM WAR
16 EAST TIMOR
17 KEEPING THE PEACE
LEST WE FORGET
BIBLIOGRAPHY
SEARCHABLE TERMS
Photographic Insert
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
About the Author
Copyright
INTRODUCTION
29 July 2010, New Farm, Brisbane
The room hushes as the old man in a wheelchair comes through the door, pushed by his son, who is clearly a chip off the old block. Almost 98 now, Stan Bisset is frail but his eyes sparkle, his skin glows, his handshake is strong and the high-tensile strength of his character is still evident in his aura. One by one, his old mates move to his side and, with a touch of the hand and a quiet word, instantly renew their unbreakable bonds. They forged their mateship as Diggers almost seven decades earlier, in the Middle East, on the Kokoda Track, elsewhere in New Guinea and in Borneo.
It’s the annual luncheon reunion of the Queensland branch of 2/14th Battalion Association. Each year they lament the passing of more of their comrades. But each year they return, and will do so as long as they have breath in them. When Stan, their elder statesman, and now also Australia’s oldest living Wallaby rugby international, sings their battalion song, they are transported back to the days when they stood between their homeland and a seemingly unstoppable invader. Then, as now, they stand shoulder to shoulder.
Spearhead of the army, frontliners are we.
We’re tops of the service, the 14th Infantry
Swinging down the highway, singing merrily
We’re fistical, ballistical and very much militaristical
We’re the boys for the scraps, just look at the tilt of our caps.
We’re even very definitely, most belligerent chaps
Oh, spearhead of the army, the 14th Infantry.
Stan’s baritone is a shadow of the beautiful trained instrument of his prime but his underlying power lingers and he sweeps the room along with his passion, especially the surviving Diggers at the top table. It is a hymn of praise to a special band. These proud men form a direct but fading line back into history. The youngest of them has now edged into his nineties. They are blurred around the edges but their inner strength still shines. In so many ways, they embody the spirit of the Digger.
12 October 2010, Sunshine Coast, Queensland
The old Diggers are back together. This time they have come to farewell their comrade. Stan passed away quietly, surrounded by his extended family, aged 98.
The memorial hall is overflowing. The old men, with their technicolour memories, recall the sporting hero who became an authentic hero in the cauldron of the Kokoda campaign. They remember his glowing physical presence. They still see him at his peak, leading them into battle in the grim jungles of New Guinea. The young mourners only have black-and-white images of the young Stan. They remember him as the epitome of the old Digger: a magnetic character, full of hard-earned wisdom, who carried himself with grace and elegance and was always available for a chat or a word of advice.
The old men know that Stan is now free to join his beloved brother Butch, whom he held in his arms as he died on the Kokoda Track. For many of them, just getting here has been a major battle: one has brought his oxygen cylinder and mask with him, others know they have a tenuous hold on this life but they all take pride in their presence, an homage to a respected mate.
The eulogies are many and heartfelt. The old men listen, lost in their reveries, rewinding images that only those who were there can fully understand. They came to give a last salute to their mate, as he had given to so many who passed before him.
We hear a lot about the ‘spirit’ of the Australian Digger. Some will tell you it’s a myth, a gross distortion of reality based on wishful thinking and a desire to justify past actions. They will tell you that it’s just a deceitful way of glorifying war, a way of glossing over the horrors so that the military can continue to attract young men. Others will tell you it’s a thing of the past, a relic only brought out on Anzac Day.
I beg to differ. I believe it’s real, present and part of our national DNA. There is something unique about the Australian Digger. I think it has always been thus and it’s still deeply infused in today’s Digger.
Private Ben Chuck was one of three Diggers who lost their lives in a single incident on 21 June 2010 while serving in Afghanistan – a helicopter crash in the rugged country in northern Kandahar Province en route to an operation against the Taliban. Private Timothy Aplin, 38, Private Scott Palmer, 27, and Private Ben Chuck, 27, all members of the Special Operations Task Group, died from injuries sustained in the crash. The three commandos were flying with seven Australian comrades and five other Coalition soldiers. The deaths brought the total Australian deaths in Afghanistan to 16. (It had reached 23 at the time of writing.)
Ben Chuck left Atherton High School in 2000 and worked as a waiter on Dunk Island and then as a crocodile handler at Cairns Crocodile Farm and Hartley’s Crocodile Adventures before a search for meaning in his life led him to enlist in mid 2004. He quickly realised that he had found his métier. He relished the life, the training and the sense of purpose it gave him. He flew through his training courses, qualifying as a commando, with specialties in combat first aid, military freefall, reconnaissance and the full panoply of weaponry and vehicles – and emerging as a natural leader.
Ben served in Afghanistan in three deployments as part of Operation Slipper: from May to August 2007, June to November 2008 and February to June 2010. It seemed natural to him – and his comrades – that he should serve as his sniper team’s Patrol Medic.
One of Ben Chuck’s fellow Diggers, who must remain anonymous for security reasons, began corresponding with Ben’s father, Gordon Chuck, after Ben’s death. His words reveal the impact that the unassuming Ben Chuck had on his mates. They also clearly reveal that the spirit of the Digger burns just as brightly today as it did in years past:
Hi Gordon,
I appreciate the emails and the updates you send me. I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch as much since I returned from Thailand. Although I have been busy, it’s no excuse, for that I apologise. I hope all is well up your end of the world. Myself, currently, along with Wrighty and Dave, are on SUB 1 for corporal. It is far from the most enjoyable time I have spent in the army.
I’m hoping that while you are in Sydney they allow us some time to get away and say g’day. Would like to catch up while you’re down.
I’ve included an email I have written to the headmaster of Hutchins School Hobart. Even from afar, Ben still motivates me to be better, to strive for more but most importantly, whilst trying to improve myself, to think of those around me. I felt that I had to write something about the great man I knew, in the hope that it would motivate, inspire and encourage some younger men to the same le
vel he has me. Not to join the army, or to fight or go to war, but just to be a better man in life.
I have started my lead up training for SAS selection. I always was nervous about doing it. The feeling that I was too small, not strong enough, not fast enough and too inexperienced always seemed to hold me back. I don’t know why, but training with Ben most of last year, and then working with snipers overseas, and continuing to TRY and keep up with Ben as he did the job and trained for selection, has driven every bit of doubt from my mind. I can’t wait for my next challenge in this great job.
This is what Private J wrote to the staff and pupils of Hutchins School in Hobart when he heard they had established an award in Ben Chuck’s honour:
To Warwick Dean and the Men of Hutchins School Hobart, My name is Private J. I am a current serving sniper within 2nd Commando Regiment, Australian Special Operations Command. But the title I hold with the highest regard was, and is, I am one of Ben Chuck’s mates.
When I was growing up, I read books about the men of the Special Air Service Regiment (SASR) and Sparrow Force (the independent companies, original commandos). I read about the incredible accomplishments they achieved during the Second World War and Vietnam. Their inspirational tales of courage, combat and defeating the elements did one great thing for me in those early days.
It inspired me to join the air force!! There was no way on this earth that I was going to be on the ground hand to hand if war came to Australia again!
Yep, I was going to be in comfort, in the sky, where it would be safe. Well, life has a funny way of working out. Cause those ‘Blokes’ in those books, the ones who seemed super human to me as a young fella, I now have the honour of working alongside. They are not super human, they are MEN.
Strength of character,
courage,
belief in oneself,
genuine concern for his mates,
honesty of purpose
and control and discipline over their deeds and actions
This was Ben Chuck to a tee. When I read this in the email I received from Gordon Chuck, I could immediately see Ben’s face in my mind.
He made himself heard on all things that would influence or affect us as a team. He fought not just on the battlefield, but in the hallways and offices of our work for what would benefit his mates. From extra stores and equipment, to realistic training activities, Ben made himself heard. But most importantly, he did this without detriment to others in our company, and always with tact – he never ‘stood on other people’s toes’ to get what he needed.
Ben always showed courage. Whether it was physical courage on the battlefield, by keeping the team’s machine gun humming and in turn drawing enemy fire on himself, or moral courage in standing up to someone of higher rank who happened to be doing the wrong thing in the barracks. Ben never shied away from what he knew was the right thing to do.
In 2009 Ben attempted SASR selection. Due to over-training he developed a joint strain and was forced to start the selection course with the injury, causing him to be medically withdrawn after two days. Ben never lost faith in himself. Whilst on operations, he continued his training in whatever personal time he got so that he could reattempt selection in 2010. Every day I heard someone badmouth the idea of doing another selection course, or the strict diet he adhered to. Yet he kept right on with his high tempo of training and healthy eating. Daily, I watched him record faster times and stronger lifts on his training board. Only his inner voice mattered, all the negative comments were water off a duck’s back to him.
Concern for his mates? I could use Ben in examples on this for days. One that stands out the most? After three days of 55-degree heat in the field, snipers were retasked to walk up another monster of a hill to provide over watch for a platoon. Knowing that we were consuming far more water in the current temperatures than we had allowed for, and seeing that some of the team’s members had slightly smaller packs, Ben loaded his pack up with nearly 12 litres of extra water to ensure that his team members would have enough water during the following days. I know for a fact Ben already had extra radio batteries, and extra gun ammo. But he didn’t whinge, he just got it done, without being asked.
Ben had a great sense of self purpose. You could see this in the quiet confidence he oozed, and it was infectious. When he was around you felt like you had to lift your game to be on his level, not in a competitive way, unless it was training, but to keep up to the standards he set.
Many a time under fire I have seen many men, including myself, get carried away with the adrenalin. Their hearts race, their breathing quickens and their thoughts become erratic. I remember one time being pinned down by enemy fire, as I and a number of others yelled to our team commander various bits of information about enemy groups and locations, Ben deciphered what was important and what was not and calmly relayed it via radio to higher command so that we could receive the effective support that we required in that situation. That was one occasion that did not require immediate violent reactions, it required calm thoughts and intelligent actions. Ben had the peace of mind and discipline to do this when it was needed the most.
No one man will ever be a perfect man. Ben knew this. Every time he hit a bump in the road, he picked himself up and pushed on harder. Every time one of his mates hit a bump in the road he gave them support, and inspiration. He always strove to be a better man tomorrow than the man he was yesterday. He was ever-improving, that’s what made it so hard to keep up with Ben.
Looking back on my days at St Joseph’s College, Nudgee, I remember looking at the men in those books as heroes and super soldiers. The positions they were put in made them appear to be these things, but at the end of the day, they were just good men, put in tough situations. Having now served alongside such soldiers, I have realised that these men weren’t products of battle, or hardships. They were GOOD MEN long before they were tested. They all know, as I know now, thanks to Ben, that if you can live your life to a ‘code’, if you will, then when your time comes to be pushed, you will have the courage, strength and confidence to push back.
I wish you all the best in your endeavours, and I thank you for remembering a great man in such an honourable way.
To the winner of the Ben Chuck Good Man award, congratulations and happy travels on the path to achieving all your goals in life.
Sincerely
PTE J
2nd Commando Regiment
Sam Halvorsen was an old friend of the Chuck family and had known Ben from an early age. He was moved to write to Gordon after attending the ‘ramp’ ceremony conducted by Ben’s commando comrades when they brought his body home. He later joined them at Ben’s funeral, along with more than a thousand other mourners. He was deeply affected by the bearing and actions of Ben’s commando comrades:
The strength and support shown by these same men to the bereaved family has been astonishing and something difficult for those outside this unique group to comprehend. It was this commando family that had people flown in immediately to offer emotional support and to take care of every detail of the funeral. They did this because they too had been to Afghanistan. They understood; they cared; and they had respect for the sacrifice involved. Equally the young man’s family has accepted its loss with dignity and courage in the knowledge that their son’s death had meaning and purpose.
Sam Halvorsen was intrigued. He made it his business to find out more about Ben’s mates.
So who are these people called commandos? They are young Australians from all walks of life and from varying ethnic backgrounds. They are dedicated, confident, highly trained and highly disciplined people who take enormous pride in their role as elite soldiers.
When not on overseas postings they work in Australia on counter terrorism activities to keep our country safe. They also train constantly to ensure their skills are up to speed at all times.
Sam discovered that the commandos must overcome extraordinary physical challenges: their combat body armour, rifle, ammunition and water we
igh around 35 kilograms, then they must carry their backpack. They are required to jump out of planes carrying more than their body weight.
The Spirit of the Digger Page 1
