Page 95 - moondani kyema
P. 95
ndani kyema, My Story - Ray Moore 95
collapsible bed and collapsing it. The chaos inside the tent was unbelievable and
the surprise and ire of its occupants entirely satisfying.
It was during my three months at Puckapunyal that I was relieved of my cloak of
innocence. This partly came about from spending that time with a group of men who
enjoyed bawdy conversation, jokes and songs, but also because I became friendly
with a couple of them who were happy to answer my naïve questions, especially
about love and sex, without making me feel embarrassed or foolish. We did have
some training films we had to watch on this topic, but for me they answered very few
of the questions which I considered important.
One of the men was a budding race caller. The others would give him the made up
names of half a dozen horses and for the next three minutes or so he would call the
race as if he was watching it. We could all see the race too.
I felt entirely at home during this time, possibly because it was not unlike a boarding
school regime. The residents were definitely not missionary kids however.
We spent the whole three months driving trucks, which at 19 was my idea of heaven
– still is! I had a special penchant for driving and it wasn't long before I was asked to
act as a trainer for some of the slower learners.
Our Company was rotten at drill, so we only practised it when overwhelming
circumstances demanded it. We had our days out at the rifle range which was
situated a few kilometres away from the camp. Usually we marched out to the range,
and this was about the most strenuous exercise we did for the whole of the three
months. Our firing practice was with the old Lee Enfield 303's. We did have a small
taste of machine guns and Owen guns. We also had to learn to throw grenades, and
were constantly reminded of their power, both by the big bang they made, and by the
constant harping on safety by the non-commissioned officers who may have had a
bad experience in the past.
To break the monotony and sometimes, boredom of army life, the Queen decided to
visit Melbourne towards the end of February, and we were assigned to “line the
route”. This meant that we were entrained again (or was it embussed, I don’t
remember) to Melbourne where we assembled at the Flagstaff Gardens. At the
appropriate time, which seemed to involve interminable hours of sitting around on the
grass doing nothing, we were marched off in platoons down the streets of
Melbourne. I actually loved the rhythm and swing of marching in a platoon like that,
and my pleasure was magnified by the fact that we were being watched by
thousands of people. At some point we were marched in single file and we halted at
a regular distance from each other and faced the centre of the street. Again it was a
long wait before the Queen finally drove past and our responsibility was over.
As so often happens in Australia, there were plenty of summer bushfires, and one
year we were deployed to fight them. Three of us were taken to a small wooden
vehicular bridge and told to see that the fire did no damage. This may seem like a
rather frightening responsibility, but in fact the fire was some kilometres away, and
we really had nothing to do. It was a hot day, so we stripped off and went for a
skinny dip in the creek. While we were enjoying this state of bliss, we heard a vehicle
approaching, and soon some officers approached the bridge. We had nowhere to go
so we waited to see what would happen. It turned out that one of the officers was a
collapsible bed and collapsing it. The chaos inside the tent was unbelievable and
the surprise and ire of its occupants entirely satisfying.
It was during my three months at Puckapunyal that I was relieved of my cloak of
innocence. This partly came about from spending that time with a group of men who
enjoyed bawdy conversation, jokes and songs, but also because I became friendly
with a couple of them who were happy to answer my naïve questions, especially
about love and sex, without making me feel embarrassed or foolish. We did have
some training films we had to watch on this topic, but for me they answered very few
of the questions which I considered important.
One of the men was a budding race caller. The others would give him the made up
names of half a dozen horses and for the next three minutes or so he would call the
race as if he was watching it. We could all see the race too.
I felt entirely at home during this time, possibly because it was not unlike a boarding
school regime. The residents were definitely not missionary kids however.
We spent the whole three months driving trucks, which at 19 was my idea of heaven
– still is! I had a special penchant for driving and it wasn't long before I was asked to
act as a trainer for some of the slower learners.
Our Company was rotten at drill, so we only practised it when overwhelming
circumstances demanded it. We had our days out at the rifle range which was
situated a few kilometres away from the camp. Usually we marched out to the range,
and this was about the most strenuous exercise we did for the whole of the three
months. Our firing practice was with the old Lee Enfield 303's. We did have a small
taste of machine guns and Owen guns. We also had to learn to throw grenades, and
were constantly reminded of their power, both by the big bang they made, and by the
constant harping on safety by the non-commissioned officers who may have had a
bad experience in the past.
To break the monotony and sometimes, boredom of army life, the Queen decided to
visit Melbourne towards the end of February, and we were assigned to “line the
route”. This meant that we were entrained again (or was it embussed, I don’t
remember) to Melbourne where we assembled at the Flagstaff Gardens. At the
appropriate time, which seemed to involve interminable hours of sitting around on the
grass doing nothing, we were marched off in platoons down the streets of
Melbourne. I actually loved the rhythm and swing of marching in a platoon like that,
and my pleasure was magnified by the fact that we were being watched by
thousands of people. At some point we were marched in single file and we halted at
a regular distance from each other and faced the centre of the street. Again it was a
long wait before the Queen finally drove past and our responsibility was over.
As so often happens in Australia, there were plenty of summer bushfires, and one
year we were deployed to fight them. Three of us were taken to a small wooden
vehicular bridge and told to see that the fire did no damage. This may seem like a
rather frightening responsibility, but in fact the fire was some kilometres away, and
we really had nothing to do. It was a hot day, so we stripped off and went for a
skinny dip in the creek. While we were enjoying this state of bliss, we heard a vehicle
approaching, and soon some officers approached the bridge. We had nowhere to go
so we waited to see what would happen. It turned out that one of the officers was a
