Download - Royal Australian Navy

50 NAVY ENGINEERING BULLETIN MARCH 2003
NIRIMBAs' two main airstrips and
a large taxiway set in a large
triangle - a distance of some 3-4
miles; or if the indescretion was
committed at night, you found
yourself (along with the rest of
your hut members) doubling the
length of the main airstrip (about
1000 yards) with your mattress
over your head. We learnt very
early in these days at NIRIMBA
that most punishments were
directed against the whole term
instead of just the individual
perpetrator. This was 'designed to
divide and separate' the term.
Unfortunately, in our case, we
found that the opposite occurred
and it, if anything, brought our
term closer together and we
readily accepted group
punishment on behalf of an
individual. (Looking back on it
now, this was a fact quickly
recognised by our Commander,
who, I feel, was quite pleased
with our term loyalty).
The nights offered us no respite
at all, as, as the first termers (or
'Sprogs') we were subjected to
continual, and sometimes quite
brutal harrassment in the form of
senior term hunting parties who
would, when they came upon a
Sprog, strip him, coat his private
parts quite liberally with boot
polish (that had to be scrubbed
off in cold water in a Sydney
western suburbs winter - not
funny, especially with an 'issue
soap' that was flat out giving a
lather in the best of
circumstances), and the odd and
not so infrequent fist or elbow
from the polishers on the
polishee - just to tide him over.
This we could endure for a month
or so (all done of course with
'unofficial' sanction from Sir), but
it began to wear thin after twothree
months every night; so, we,
as a term, did the unthinkable,
the unheard of -'we retaliated
against our senior term
tormentors. We advised them that
for every one of us that was
bastardised - one of them would
cop it from us. This was laughed
off until we actually had to prove
the point. This was in the form of
a one-to-one confrontation
between one of 'ours' and one of
'them' with the unspoken
agreement that whoever emerged
the victor, had the right of
decision of future 'activities'. This
gladitorial event took place in the
gym with both terms fully
represented and quite a number
of the other termers as
'interested spectators', (with a
couple of Senior Sailors quite
inconspicuous at the rear of the
screaming throng, just to see
things were kept above board and
lives were not lost), all cheering
on their respective champions in
the best traditions of the Circus
Maximus. Let it be quite certain
that we didn't want just a victory
- we wanted BLOOD! That our
'champion' proved the victor of
the foray was, needless to say, an
immense relief and a source of
great enjoyment to us, as now we
had set the precedent with the
warning, and our intentions now
were a valid threat. (This, I must
hasten to add, was also with full
'unofficial' approval with the
statement: 'if you can't cop it
sweet, why should you deal it
out!!')
As night fell, we all would dress in
black (black battle dress,
seaman's jumper, beret and light
boots) and head for the scrub.
We got quite proficient at
camouflage and the art of
immovability. I can still remember
lying in a dark shallow ditch not
daring to breathe with a second
termer standing over me with one
foot either side of the ditch,
looking for 'Sprogs' to 'get'. I was
sure he would hear my heart, but
he missed me and moved on. Our
harrassment declined steadily,
but our first five months were
fairly brutal - so much so, we, as
'old hands' the following term,
refused to harrass the new
'Sprogs' in any physical form at
all. (Their beds and huts took a
hell of a beating, but the person
was untouched).
This harrassment came to a head
during our first mid-term break.
We were billeted on a disused
emergency airstrip by HMAS
'CRESWELL' in fibro huts. Once
again as night fell, so the jackals
and hyenas closed in. We 'Sprogs'
barricaded ourselves in one of
the huts and successfully held off
all attacks for the whole night.
The senior termers came at us
with everything - battering rams,
fire hoses, clubs, rocks - anything
they could lay their hands on and
kept at us all night without
respite. The result next morning
was a completely devastated and
wrecked hut. What seemed funny
to Sir the previous evening, didn't
seem so hilarious the next
morning - and was definitely
most unfunny when he received
the bill from 'CRESWELL' to repair
the hut when we returned to
‘NIRIMBA'. During the course of
Sir's admonitory tirade to the
senior termers that following
morning, we 'Sprogs' filtered out
of camp to relative safety. Our
choice was the beach, (where we
could see sharks swimming just
beyond the first line of breakers,
or the bush, which was literally
swarming with black snakes,
being smack in the middle of the
mating season). Most of us took
the sharks, although one of our
‘bushies' walked quite openly
around the base camp amongst
the senior termers quite
unmolested and was granted all
manner of unheard-of courtesies.
The fact that he continually held
a mad as hell black snake in his
hand at all times probably helped
somewhat.