COL Graham Farley, OAM, RFD, ED (Rtd) – My Service Career
MY SERVICE CAREER
By COL Graham Farley, OAM, RFD, ED (Rtd)
Part 3 – Melbourne University Regiment, 1954-55
Being a student at The University of Melbourne, it was logical that I would be allotted to the Melbourne University Regiment in which to complete my 98 days of obligatory National Service training. In those days (1954), MUR (as it is abbreviated) occupied a relatively humble training depot in the university grounds. Some years later, a purpose-built depot was provided in Grattan Street, not far from the Exhibition Gardens. It was a three-storey affair, with a reasonable vehicle park at the rear. It was to be shared with the RAAF for some years.
MUR had been reformed in 1948, along with many other Citizen Military Force (CMF) units in Australia, as a consequence of a deteriorating international situation. MUR had been previously titled the Melbourne University Rifles.
Prior to the introduction of National Service in 1951, MUR had consisted of a regular army cadre and volunteer CMF personnel. The latter probably saw service in the unit perhaps as a hobby in which to pursue military interests and, of course, to be prepared for a role in Australia’s defence if so called upon. MUR, with all other CMF units, was to be tasked to provide the training facilities for NS personnel to complete the remaining 98 days their of obligation. But these soldiers would not in every case see themselves as volunteers wishing to over cooperate. This tension affected all CMF units. I know of no cases where it led to anything like rebellion or non-cooperation, but in the MUR at least, personnel having completed their 98 days to the letter, would accept discharge even in the midst of a field exercise during the annual camp. They would have to be provided with transport back into the camp where they would return their uniform and kit and be marched out, their obligation over.
My first contact with my anticipated future unit was a parade during NS at Puckapunyal, which was addressed by the then Commanding Officer of MUR, LTCOL Norman Vickery, who had won the MC in North Africa. Vickery, a gunner officer, was subsequently promoted brigadier as Commander Artillery Group, Royal Artillery (CAGRA), and Major General, commanding the Third Infantry Division. He was later on the CMF member on the Military Board of the Army.
By good fortune towards the end of the first intake 1954, university and other tertiary students, whose lectures had already commenced at their various institutions, were released from Puckapunyal a fortnight or so early. Some of us were even conscientious enough to wear military uniform to lectures, as we were still legally under military discipline.
My first parade with MUR was on a Saturday, when we were addressed by the new CO, LTCOL Somerton, and issued with “signs formation,” and “titles embroidered.” I think we signed some forms or provided some information and were sent home early. For once there was no one shouting at us. One could walk on grass without being bawled out! It was all very civilized and gentlemanly.
Although relatively successful in rifle shooting as an ATC cadet, I seemed to be for ever missing the bulls-eye on the target while in NS. This lack of skill appeared to be the basis for me being allotted to the medium machine gun platoon (MMG). The theory must have been that with abundant ammunition I could spray the target and eventually hit it!
So y next experience was a weekend bivouac at Puckapunyal as a member of the MMG Platoon . Quite apart from learning to fire the water-cooled Vickers machine gun, I was to be privileged to be on the bivouac at which the MUR Anti-Tank Platoon shot up a World War Two tank that had been left out on the firing range, after it had broken down on exercises during the week. It has been said that it was the only target that the platoon ever hit, but it was also a case of “someone had blundered.”
The newspapers took up the case with enthusiasm, one of them describing the tank as a new Centurion, worth many thousands of pounds. The Army said that fifty pounds was more like it. No, the unit was not granted a battle honour as a result, but those of us who were there, in Henry V terms, could stand and bare their arms and say that they were there. It will be interesting to see how the forthcoming history of MUR treats the incident.
On another bivouac, we were quartered in a tree line through which Centurion tanks thundered, but we all survived. A friend of mine had a simple cash value for a weekend bivouac. The pay was about three pounds, which he was able to translate into “a long-playing record,” which was about the same price. I would not even try to suggest the comparative value today of a weekend bivouac!
Annual camps in MUR were of three weeks duration in an endeavour to fit in with student vacations and minimize interruptions to studies. In January, 1955 the camp was held at Scrub Hill, and in 1956 at Site 6, Seymour. These were large affairs of over one thousand personnel. The officers mess was a large affair both in terms of tentage and numbers, since the unit had officer training as one of its priorities. The “senior subaltern” had a veritable platoon of newly promoted lieutenants from which to choose for dirty jobs.
I had seen friends of longer experience wearing sergeants’ stripes and even being commissioned, so I thought I might investigate those opportunities, since I had several years of service ahead of me. MUR was in the habit of conducting 20-day courses in November/December at the conclusion of annual examinations. I had my name put down for the course in November 1954 and learnt some “minor infantry tactics,” which concluded with a bivouac at Hurstbridge. It coincided with my qualifying for a Bachelor of Commerce, the results coming out that day as I had leave to Melbourne. Hence, I marched in to camp in January 1955 to find that I was a Corporal. I had not been aware that promotion would follow from the course.
Quite apart from having to rely on some kind colleagues to provide me with some stripes, which I had to sew on with my best needlework skill, I was given tasks which involved getting fellow university students to stack “duck boards” and the like. It was all a bit scary. What if they did not obey me? I recall writing down their names in a notebook at the start of the task and this seemed to keep everything quiet and them cooperative.
In 1955 I undertook First Appointment study and examinations. MUR was encouraged to produce officers and it might be assumed that academic entry requirements for university could suggest that such students would make good officers. There were three subjects, Subject A (Military Knowledge?), Subject B (Tactics in the Field and Subject C (Military Law). The examination for Subject A had some similarities to a sequence in the Danny Kaye film, The Court Jester. Subject B was quite exacting, while Subject C, under the tutelage of LTCOL Brock was most interesting. I had obtained a few days leave from the start of the 1956 camp in order to complete my role at a Scout Jamboree. When I arrived at the camp, I was told to get myself properly dressed as a probationary Lieutenant.
I was one of thirty-three newly commissioned officers in that camp. Senior officers set out to impress us “wet behind the ears” officers by their pranks of going over the roof of the marquees and clambering up the poles in the marquee. One experienced captain was challenged as to whether he had his “pips” the right way up. He must have been given the tip that he hadn’t, for he had had time to adjust them. The accuser had to pay for drinks for the entire mess.
The 20-day course inn 1955 saw me directed to an artillery course that was conducted at 2nd Field Regiment’s Training Depot at Batman Avenue. Sadly this depot is no longer in existence, it having to make way for the CityLink extensions. Prior to this course, I had been sent a letter saying that MUR had a requirement from Army to train something like two hundred officers. I was to reply, stating if I had any objection to being trained as a gunner and become a member of the new artillery troop in MUR.
I have to confess that I replied, stating that my mathematics were not good and that I didn’t like loud noises! I do not have a copy of that letter, but I know that I raised some futile objections in it. If I had been clairvoyant, I would have known that I was about to be posted to Mirboo North High for my first year as a teacher. Mirboo North was in Gippsland, a region consisting almost entirely of artillery or special reserve units (such as the one with the State Electricity Commission).
I enjoyed the course at Batman Avenue, which was conducted by the unit’s cadre staff, under the leadership of CAPT Don Baker. Following lectures in the unit’s theatre, complete with picture theatre style seats (which always impressed me), we trained with artillery equipment on the adjacent playing field and park.
I guess that I was already aware that the army’s textbooks were known as Pamphlets or “Pams.” I suppose there was some historical reason for this, the early documents probably only being pamphlets in size and appearance. In artillery, there was a considerable range, being grouped together in “volumes.” Volume III (or “Vol 3” in common parlance) in the artillery series contained most of the pamphlets needed for field firing. Acquiring these pams was rather important and often involved deviant behaviour!. Keen officers and NCOs would bind them together and have all the amendments stuck in. It was often the case that one could bluff oneself out of a difficulty by accusing the other person of not having the latest amendment! At the 2nd Field Regiment course, we were issued with précis documents. One, which was to stand me in good stead, was a summary of the sequence and simultaneous actions in a deployment. I am sure that I have still got it somewhere.
Vintage Ford or Chevrolet “blitz buggies” hauled the ordnance 25-pounder guns to the adjacent park, and we learned all about the director and how to lay the guns in “bearing centre of arc.” I quickly learned what to do on hearing, “Aiming Point, Director,” and how to raise my arm in acknowledgement. I also found that my voice, when raised in a shout, could degenerate to a squeak. It was probably fortunate for all that I did not have to serve on the guns in artillery units, but be in the command posts instead, where tannoy systems assisted the voice. Finding that there were always seats in the vehicles and that gunners always rode to battle, I began to see great advantages in being a gunner, something that I have never regretted. Fate can often be much stronger than wishes.
I might have had second thoughts in the following three week camp about the glamour of the guns and the exalted rank of lieutenant, for a CAPT Hogan, who subsequently rose to senior rank as a medical officer, was detailed to train us to firing stage. He was one of those officers who led by example. Now commissioned, I found myself being treated as if I was back in NS days, with pick and shovel digging gun pits and other essential but sweaty tasks. One could never object, for CAPT Hogan would be the first to get rid of his shirt and grab a spade to get the gun pit going. The main camp being out at the Seymour site, we spent too much time in driving to and from the firing range at Puckapunyal, but “mine not to reason why.”
It was only a small percentage of the community that had access to cars in those days, but university students seemed to be well above average in this regard. Hence the camp had to provide a large civilian car park. On the last day of camp, it was obvious that car owners were straining at the leash to break camp. One could almost hear the whine of engines and the impatience for the starter’s signal. But the CO ordered that private cars could not leave the confines of the camp until the remainder of the personnel were on board trucks on their way to Seymour for rail transport to Melbourne.
When I reached my home at Elwood after that camp, my links with MUR were for the time being at an end. I had heard that the nearest unit to Mirboo North was a battery that paraded at Korumburra and Leongatha. This was R Battery of the 22nd (Self-Propelled) Regiment, Royal Regiment of Australian Artillery (RAA) in with its Head Quarters at Landcox Street, Brighton. My next career step would be to contact the unit and let them know just how fortunate they were to gain my services. I decided to go to the depot in person. Watch this space!
G. J. Farley