Tales of the jungle: how WWII's eyes and ears endured
It rained most days and poured almost every night, turning the perpetually soaked ground into muddy swamps as oppressive temperatures hung heavy in the air of the Australian-administered territory.
Olive-green canvas propped up by wooden poles hardly shielded those on the backline of the war from the unbearable conditions.
Yet the watchers of the seas and skies never wavered.
There were no roads, and you couldn't walk far from campgrounds that were perched on elevated hills without stepping into creeks or shrubland.
It was a "malarial pest hole" where mosquitoes and insects thrived and diseases were rife.
For Ron Gee Kee, a coder freshly deployed to Milne Bay on the southern point of the island's east, it was the "worst place in the world".
The Pacific theatre of the Second World War opened in 1941 between Japan and the allies, with campaigns fought in east and southeast Asia and the Pacific Ocean.
After Japanese bombs had devastated parts of Darwin and where he lived in north Queensland, an 18-year-old Mr Gee Kee enlisted in 1943.
"Would you run away and hide in the bush, or would you join up?" he said of his decision.
Every night as dusk fell on the humid grounds of Milne Bay, air sirens would sound, piercing the sky with drawn-out wails, alerting to enemy planes approaching.
"You could hear the planes coming, but you couldn't see them because the sun was always behind them," Mr Gee Kee said.
He and his team would shelter in their huts as half a dozen Japanese fighters shot past their base on the side of a hill, locked onto the coconut trees below.
But they didn't concern the non-combat servicemen too much after Allied forces led by Australian soldiers had decisively repelled the Japanese invaders in the battle of Milne Bay in 1942.
By early 1943, about 7752 Australian and American soldiers had died in battle in New Guinea.
That was dwarfed by the casualties from tropical diseases, numbering 37,360, including 27,892 cases of malaria.
"A couple of my mates died from malaria, and if they hadn't, they had dysentery and big sores on their bodies," Mr Gee Kee said.
"Most of the time we didn't wear shirts, we just wore shorts because it was so hot and wet up there."
Air force radar operator John Patrick McAuley had already narrowly dodged death after a bout of Dengue fever while based in Townsville.
By the time he was deployed to Merauke in Dutch-controlled New Guinea, now West Papua, his skin was a yellowish hue due to the tablets fed to servicemen to inoculate them from tropical diseases.
Merauke had been left in ruins from a Japanese bombing when he arrived in 1943.
"It's not a pleasant place for people to live. It's not suitable," Mr McAuley said.
"It was hot all the time. An older person would find it impossible, I'm sure, but we had youth on our side."
Growing up in Broken Hill, a scrawny Mr McAuley never got to meet his father, who died when he was 15 months, so he followed in the footsteps of a "cluey" friend into radar defence.
"I wanted to do my share of saving Australia from the Japanese, who were already advancing down. No way were they going to come and take over," he said.
On the ground, work was never-ending.
Mr Gee Kee had the top-secret responsibility of sending and translating messages sent by cryptic codes to arm the Allied forces with intelligence on ships in the Pacific.
Mr McAuley would sit in front of radar sets and twiddle with control knobs before relaying information on the skies back to headquarters in Bankstown in Sydney.
Despite constant contact with headquarters, letters to and from family and friends arrived with splotches of black ink censoring information, and the lack of access to newspapers meant they were effectively shut off from the world.
"We were young. We did what we were told ... we were happy with that," Mr McAuley said.
After 12 months at Milne Bay and a short stint in Madang on the north coast, Mr Gee Kee returned to the Brisbane office of American General Douglas MacArthur, who led the Allies' response in the Pacific theatre.
He contracted malaria but recovered in a Brisbane hospital, unlike many of his mates in the field hospitals of New Guinea.
His final deployment took him to an old bank building in Darwin in 1945, which had remained a scene of destruction from Japanese bombings years earlier.
It was there on August 15, 1945, that the message came through.
On August 6, 1945, American bomber Enola Gay dropped the 'Little Boy' atomic bomb on Hiroshima. By the end of the day, 45,000 people were dead.
Three days later, another atomic bomb fell about 400km away in the Japanese city of Nagasaki, killing 22,000 almost immediately.
US President Harry S. Truman justified the twin bombings as a means to an end to ongoing suffering.
The gamble, which stole hundreds of thousands of civilian lives, paid off when Japanese Emperor Hirohito announced his nation's surrender days later.
The news came quickly, spilling through the Darwin outpost with cheers and screams.
The jubilation soon morphed into a rush of people wanting to return to their old lives.
"We were trying to get discharged as quickly as possible and go find some work. We didn't want to stay in the service any longer," Mr Gee Kee said.
Discharged in 1945, Mr McAuley went on to marry the love of his life, Margaret, earn a degree in economics and continue serving the nation across high-profile roles in the finance industry.
Eighty years on, age has finally wearied Australia's protectors.
Memories are slowly fading, as is the number of veterans left to tell the story.
For 101-year-old Mr McAuley, the events at the end of the war are fleeting.
"That's a pivotal date in your calendar, but one day was the same as another, and we didn't know anything about the atomic bomb," he said.
Fewer than 1300 WWII veterans are alive today from the almost one million Australians who served during the war.
The youngest surviving veteran is 95, while the oldest is 108.
There's a greater sense of relevance and urgency as the nation prepares to commemorate the 80th anniversary of victory in the Pacific.
"The legacies and consequences of the Second World War remain with us still," the Australian War Memorial head of military history Karl James said.
"The greatest tribute we can pay to those Australians who fought the Second World War is to not forget their service and sacrifice."
RSL president Greg Melick said the anniversary was important as the number of WWII veterans diminished.
"If not for their sacrifices and those of our allied service men and women, our lives today would be significantly different," Mr Melick said.
Nowadays, the 101-year-old Mr Gee Kee lives a quiet life in Sydney with his wife Betty, whom he married right after the war.
While 80 years on, Mr McAuley remains an idealist, advocating for a lasting peace in the world.
"I'm a survivor, and I have that responsibility to my friends, my mates and to past generations," he said.
RSL NSW will hold a Victory in the Pacific commemoration service at the Cenotaph at Martin Place in the Sydney CBD on Friday.
Other ceremonies will be held at the Shrine of Remembrance in Melbourne, Canberra's Australian War Memorial, and the State War Memorial in Perth.
Lifeline 13 11 14
Open Arms 1800 011 046
Deep in the dense, overgrown jungles of New Guinea, the eyes and ears of World War II Allied soldiers faced a greater danger than the Japanese warplanes that flew overhead.
It rained most days and poured almost every night, turning the perpetually soaked ground into muddy swamps as oppressive temperatures hung heavy in the air of the Australian-administered territory.
Olive-green canvas propped up by wooden poles hardly shielded those on the backline of the war from the unbearable conditions.
Yet the watchers of the seas and skies never wavered.
There were no roads, and you couldn't walk far from campgrounds that were perched on elevated hills without stepping into creeks or shrubland.
It was a "malarial pest hole" where mosquitoes and insects thrived and diseases were rife.
For Ron Gee Kee, a coder freshly deployed to Milne Bay on the southern point of the island's east, it was the "worst place in the world".
The Pacific theatre of the Second World War opened in 1941 between Japan and the allies, with campaigns fought in east and southeast Asia and the Pacific Ocean.
After Japanese bombs had devastated parts of Darwin and where he lived in north Queensland, an 18-year-old Mr Gee Kee enlisted in 1943.
"Would you run away and hide in the bush, or would you join up?" he said of his decision.
Every night as dusk fell on the humid grounds of Milne Bay, air sirens would sound, piercing the sky with drawn-out wails, alerting to enemy planes approaching.
"You could hear the planes coming, but you couldn't see them because the sun was always behind them," Mr Gee Kee said.
He and his team would shelter in their huts as half a dozen Japanese fighters shot past their base on the side of a hill, locked onto the coconut trees below.
But they didn't concern the non-combat servicemen too much after Allied forces led by Australian soldiers had decisively repelled the Japanese invaders in the battle of Milne Bay in 1942.
By early 1943, about 7752 Australian and American soldiers had died in battle in New Guinea.
That was dwarfed by the casualties from tropical diseases, numbering 37,360, including 27,892 cases of malaria.
"A couple of my mates died from malaria, and if they hadn't, they had dysentery and big sores on their bodies," Mr Gee Kee said.
"Most of the time we didn't wear shirts, we just wore shorts because it was so hot and wet up there."
Air force radar operator John Patrick McAuley had already narrowly dodged death after a bout of Dengue fever while based in Townsville.
By the time he was deployed to Merauke in Dutch-controlled New Guinea, now West Papua, his skin was a yellowish hue due to the tablets fed to servicemen to inoculate them from tropical diseases.
Merauke had been left in ruins from a Japanese bombing when he arrived in 1943.
"It's not a pleasant place for people to live. It's not suitable," Mr McAuley said.
"It was hot all the time. An older person would find it impossible, I'm sure, but we had youth on our side."
Growing up in Broken Hill, a scrawny Mr McAuley never got to meet his father, who died when he was 15 months, so he followed in the footsteps of a "cluey" friend into radar defence.
"I wanted to do my share of saving Australia from the Japanese, who were already advancing down. No way were they going to come and take over," he said.
On the ground, work was never-ending.
Mr Gee Kee had the top-secret responsibility of sending and translating messages sent by cryptic codes to arm the Allied forces with intelligence on ships in the Pacific.
Mr McAuley would sit in front of radar sets and twiddle with control knobs before relaying information on the skies back to headquarters in Bankstown in Sydney.
Despite constant contact with headquarters, letters to and from family and friends arrived with splotches of black ink censoring information, and the lack of access to newspapers meant they were effectively shut off from the world.
"We were young. We did what we were told ... we were happy with that," Mr McAuley said.
After 12 months at Milne Bay and a short stint in Madang on the north coast, Mr Gee Kee returned to the Brisbane office of American General Douglas MacArthur, who led the Allies' response in the Pacific theatre.
He contracted malaria but recovered in a Brisbane hospital, unlike many of his mates in the field hospitals of New Guinea.
His final deployment took him to an old bank building in Darwin in 1945, which had remained a scene of destruction from Japanese bombings years earlier.
It was there on August 15, 1945, that the message came through.
On August 6, 1945, American bomber Enola Gay dropped the 'Little Boy' atomic bomb on Hiroshima. By the end of the day, 45,000 people were dead.
Three days later, another atomic bomb fell about 400km away in the Japanese city of Nagasaki, killing 22,000 almost immediately.
US President Harry S. Truman justified the twin bombings as a means to an end to ongoing suffering.
The gamble, which stole hundreds of thousands of civilian lives, paid off when Japanese Emperor Hirohito announced his nation's surrender days later.
The news came quickly, spilling through the Darwin outpost with cheers and screams.
The jubilation soon morphed into a rush of people wanting to return to their old lives.
"We were trying to get discharged as quickly as possible and go find some work. We didn't want to stay in the service any longer," Mr Gee Kee said.
Discharged in 1945, Mr McAuley went on to marry the love of his life, Margaret, earn a degree in economics and continue serving the nation across high-profile roles in the finance industry.
Eighty years on, age has finally wearied Australia's protectors.
Memories are slowly fading, as is the number of veterans left to tell the story.
For 101-year-old Mr McAuley, the events at the end of the war are fleeting.
"That's a pivotal date in your calendar, but one day was the same as another, and we didn't know anything about the atomic bomb," he said.
Fewer than 1300 WWII veterans are alive today from the almost one million Australians who served during the war.
The youngest surviving veteran is 95, while the oldest is 108.
There's a greater sense of relevance and urgency as the nation prepares to commemorate the 80th anniversary of victory in the Pacific.
"The legacies and consequences of the Second World War remain with us still," the Australian War Memorial head of military history Karl James said.
"The greatest tribute we can pay to those Australians who fought the Second World War is to not forget their service and sacrifice."
RSL president Greg Melick said the anniversary was important as the number of WWII veterans diminished.
"If not for their sacrifices and those of our allied service men and women, our lives today would be significantly different," Mr Melick said.
Nowadays, the 101-year-old Mr Gee Kee lives a quiet life in Sydney with his wife Betty, whom he married right after the war.
While 80 years on, Mr McAuley remains an idealist, advocating for a lasting peace in the world.
"I'm a survivor, and I have that responsibility to my friends, my mates and to past generations," he said.
RSL NSW will hold a Victory in the Pacific commemoration service at the Cenotaph at Martin Place in the Sydney CBD on Friday.
Other ceremonies will be held at the Shrine of Remembrance in Melbourne, Canberra's Australian War Memorial, and the State War Memorial in Perth.
Lifeline 13 11 14
Open Arms 1800 011 046
Deep in the dense, overgrown jungles of New Guinea, the eyes and ears of World War II Allied soldiers faced a greater danger than the Japanese warplanes that flew overhead.
It rained most days and poured almost every night, turning the perpetually soaked ground into muddy swamps as oppressive temperatures hung heavy in the air of the Australian-administered territory.
Olive-green canvas propped up by wooden poles hardly shielded those on the backline of the war from the unbearable conditions.
Yet the watchers of the seas and skies never wavered.
There were no roads, and you couldn't walk far from campgrounds that were perched on elevated hills without stepping into creeks or shrubland.
It was a "malarial pest hole" where mosquitoes and insects thrived and diseases were rife.
For Ron Gee Kee, a coder freshly deployed to Milne Bay on the southern point of the island's east, it was the "worst place in the world".
The Pacific theatre of the Second World War opened in 1941 between Japan and the allies, with campaigns fought in east and southeast Asia and the Pacific Ocean.
After Japanese bombs had devastated parts of Darwin and where he lived in north Queensland, an 18-year-old Mr Gee Kee enlisted in 1943.
"Would you run away and hide in the bush, or would you join up?" he said of his decision.
Every night as dusk fell on the humid grounds of Milne Bay, air sirens would sound, piercing the sky with drawn-out wails, alerting to enemy planes approaching.
"You could hear the planes coming, but you couldn't see them because the sun was always behind them," Mr Gee Kee said.
He and his team would shelter in their huts as half a dozen Japanese fighters shot past their base on the side of a hill, locked onto the coconut trees below.
But they didn't concern the non-combat servicemen too much after Allied forces led by Australian soldiers had decisively repelled the Japanese invaders in the battle of Milne Bay in 1942.
By early 1943, about 7752 Australian and American soldiers had died in battle in New Guinea.
That was dwarfed by the casualties from tropical diseases, numbering 37,360, including 27,892 cases of malaria.
"A couple of my mates died from malaria, and if they hadn't, they had dysentery and big sores on their bodies," Mr Gee Kee said.
"Most of the time we didn't wear shirts, we just wore shorts because it was so hot and wet up there."
Air force radar operator John Patrick McAuley had already narrowly dodged death after a bout of Dengue fever while based in Townsville.
By the time he was deployed to Merauke in Dutch-controlled New Guinea, now West Papua, his skin was a yellowish hue due to the tablets fed to servicemen to inoculate them from tropical diseases.
Merauke had been left in ruins from a Japanese bombing when he arrived in 1943.
"It's not a pleasant place for people to live. It's not suitable," Mr McAuley said.
"It was hot all the time. An older person would find it impossible, I'm sure, but we had youth on our side."
Growing up in Broken Hill, a scrawny Mr McAuley never got to meet his father, who died when he was 15 months, so he followed in the footsteps of a "cluey" friend into radar defence.
"I wanted to do my share of saving Australia from the Japanese, who were already advancing down. No way were they going to come and take over," he said.
On the ground, work was never-ending.
Mr Gee Kee had the top-secret responsibility of sending and translating messages sent by cryptic codes to arm the Allied forces with intelligence on ships in the Pacific.
Mr McAuley would sit in front of radar sets and twiddle with control knobs before relaying information on the skies back to headquarters in Bankstown in Sydney.
Despite constant contact with headquarters, letters to and from family and friends arrived with splotches of black ink censoring information, and the lack of access to newspapers meant they were effectively shut off from the world.
"We were young. We did what we were told ... we were happy with that," Mr McAuley said.
After 12 months at Milne Bay and a short stint in Madang on the north coast, Mr Gee Kee returned to the Brisbane office of American General Douglas MacArthur, who led the Allies' response in the Pacific theatre.
He contracted malaria but recovered in a Brisbane hospital, unlike many of his mates in the field hospitals of New Guinea.
His final deployment took him to an old bank building in Darwin in 1945, which had remained a scene of destruction from Japanese bombings years earlier.
It was there on August 15, 1945, that the message came through.
On August 6, 1945, American bomber Enola Gay dropped the 'Little Boy' atomic bomb on Hiroshima. By the end of the day, 45,000 people were dead.
Three days later, another atomic bomb fell about 400km away in the Japanese city of Nagasaki, killing 22,000 almost immediately.
US President Harry S. Truman justified the twin bombings as a means to an end to ongoing suffering.
The gamble, which stole hundreds of thousands of civilian lives, paid off when Japanese Emperor Hirohito announced his nation's surrender days later.
The news came quickly, spilling through the Darwin outpost with cheers and screams.
The jubilation soon morphed into a rush of people wanting to return to their old lives.
"We were trying to get discharged as quickly as possible and go find some work. We didn't want to stay in the service any longer," Mr Gee Kee said.
Discharged in 1945, Mr McAuley went on to marry the love of his life, Margaret, earn a degree in economics and continue serving the nation across high-profile roles in the finance industry.
Eighty years on, age has finally wearied Australia's protectors.
Memories are slowly fading, as is the number of veterans left to tell the story.
For 101-year-old Mr McAuley, the events at the end of the war are fleeting.
"That's a pivotal date in your calendar, but one day was the same as another, and we didn't know anything about the atomic bomb," he said.
Fewer than 1300 WWII veterans are alive today from the almost one million Australians who served during the war.
The youngest surviving veteran is 95, while the oldest is 108.
There's a greater sense of relevance and urgency as the nation prepares to commemorate the 80th anniversary of victory in the Pacific.
"The legacies and consequences of the Second World War remain with us still," the Australian War Memorial head of military history Karl James said.
"The greatest tribute we can pay to those Australians who fought the Second World War is to not forget their service and sacrifice."
RSL president Greg Melick said the anniversary was important as the number of WWII veterans diminished.
"If not for their sacrifices and those of our allied service men and women, our lives today would be significantly different," Mr Melick said.
Nowadays, the 101-year-old Mr Gee Kee lives a quiet life in Sydney with his wife Betty, whom he married right after the war.
While 80 years on, Mr McAuley remains an idealist, advocating for a lasting peace in the world.
"I'm a survivor, and I have that responsibility to my friends, my mates and to past generations," he said.
RSL NSW will hold a Victory in the Pacific commemoration service at the Cenotaph at Martin Place in the Sydney CBD on Friday.
Other ceremonies will be held at the Shrine of Remembrance in Melbourne, Canberra's Australian War Memorial, and the State War Memorial in Perth.
Lifeline 13 11 14
Open Arms 1800 011 046
Deep in the dense, overgrown jungles of New Guinea, the eyes and ears of World War II Allied soldiers faced a greater danger than the Japanese warplanes that flew overhead.
It rained most days and poured almost every night, turning the perpetually soaked ground into muddy swamps as oppressive temperatures hung heavy in the air of the Australian-administered territory.
Olive-green canvas propped up by wooden poles hardly shielded those on the backline of the war from the unbearable conditions.
Yet the watchers of the seas and skies never wavered.
There were no roads, and you couldn't walk far from campgrounds that were perched on elevated hills without stepping into creeks or shrubland.
It was a "malarial pest hole" where mosquitoes and insects thrived and diseases were rife.
For Ron Gee Kee, a coder freshly deployed to Milne Bay on the southern point of the island's east, it was the "worst place in the world".
The Pacific theatre of the Second World War opened in 1941 between Japan and the allies, with campaigns fought in east and southeast Asia and the Pacific Ocean.
After Japanese bombs had devastated parts of Darwin and where he lived in north Queensland, an 18-year-old Mr Gee Kee enlisted in 1943.
"Would you run away and hide in the bush, or would you join up?" he said of his decision.
Every night as dusk fell on the humid grounds of Milne Bay, air sirens would sound, piercing the sky with drawn-out wails, alerting to enemy planes approaching.
"You could hear the planes coming, but you couldn't see them because the sun was always behind them," Mr Gee Kee said.
He and his team would shelter in their huts as half a dozen Japanese fighters shot past their base on the side of a hill, locked onto the coconut trees below.
But they didn't concern the non-combat servicemen too much after Allied forces led by Australian soldiers had decisively repelled the Japanese invaders in the battle of Milne Bay in 1942.
By early 1943, about 7752 Australian and American soldiers had died in battle in New Guinea.
That was dwarfed by the casualties from tropical diseases, numbering 37,360, including 27,892 cases of malaria.
"A couple of my mates died from malaria, and if they hadn't, they had dysentery and big sores on their bodies," Mr Gee Kee said.
"Most of the time we didn't wear shirts, we just wore shorts because it was so hot and wet up there."
Air force radar operator John Patrick McAuley had already narrowly dodged death after a bout of Dengue fever while based in Townsville.
By the time he was deployed to Merauke in Dutch-controlled New Guinea, now West Papua, his skin was a yellowish hue due to the tablets fed to servicemen to inoculate them from tropical diseases.
Merauke had been left in ruins from a Japanese bombing when he arrived in 1943.
"It's not a pleasant place for people to live. It's not suitable," Mr McAuley said.
"It was hot all the time. An older person would find it impossible, I'm sure, but we had youth on our side."
Growing up in Broken Hill, a scrawny Mr McAuley never got to meet his father, who died when he was 15 months, so he followed in the footsteps of a "cluey" friend into radar defence.
"I wanted to do my share of saving Australia from the Japanese, who were already advancing down. No way were they going to come and take over," he said.
On the ground, work was never-ending.
Mr Gee Kee had the top-secret responsibility of sending and translating messages sent by cryptic codes to arm the Allied forces with intelligence on ships in the Pacific.
Mr McAuley would sit in front of radar sets and twiddle with control knobs before relaying information on the skies back to headquarters in Bankstown in Sydney.
Despite constant contact with headquarters, letters to and from family and friends arrived with splotches of black ink censoring information, and the lack of access to newspapers meant they were effectively shut off from the world.
"We were young. We did what we were told ... we were happy with that," Mr McAuley said.
After 12 months at Milne Bay and a short stint in Madang on the north coast, Mr Gee Kee returned to the Brisbane office of American General Douglas MacArthur, who led the Allies' response in the Pacific theatre.
He contracted malaria but recovered in a Brisbane hospital, unlike many of his mates in the field hospitals of New Guinea.
His final deployment took him to an old bank building in Darwin in 1945, which had remained a scene of destruction from Japanese bombings years earlier.
It was there on August 15, 1945, that the message came through.
On August 6, 1945, American bomber Enola Gay dropped the 'Little Boy' atomic bomb on Hiroshima. By the end of the day, 45,000 people were dead.
Three days later, another atomic bomb fell about 400km away in the Japanese city of Nagasaki, killing 22,000 almost immediately.
US President Harry S. Truman justified the twin bombings as a means to an end to ongoing suffering.
The gamble, which stole hundreds of thousands of civilian lives, paid off when Japanese Emperor Hirohito announced his nation's surrender days later.
The news came quickly, spilling through the Darwin outpost with cheers and screams.
The jubilation soon morphed into a rush of people wanting to return to their old lives.
"We were trying to get discharged as quickly as possible and go find some work. We didn't want to stay in the service any longer," Mr Gee Kee said.
Discharged in 1945, Mr McAuley went on to marry the love of his life, Margaret, earn a degree in economics and continue serving the nation across high-profile roles in the finance industry.
Eighty years on, age has finally wearied Australia's protectors.
Memories are slowly fading, as is the number of veterans left to tell the story.
For 101-year-old Mr McAuley, the events at the end of the war are fleeting.
"That's a pivotal date in your calendar, but one day was the same as another, and we didn't know anything about the atomic bomb," he said.
Fewer than 1300 WWII veterans are alive today from the almost one million Australians who served during the war.
The youngest surviving veteran is 95, while the oldest is 108.
There's a greater sense of relevance and urgency as the nation prepares to commemorate the 80th anniversary of victory in the Pacific.
"The legacies and consequences of the Second World War remain with us still," the Australian War Memorial head of military history Karl James said.
"The greatest tribute we can pay to those Australians who fought the Second World War is to not forget their service and sacrifice."
RSL president Greg Melick said the anniversary was important as the number of WWII veterans diminished.
"If not for their sacrifices and those of our allied service men and women, our lives today would be significantly different," Mr Melick said.
Nowadays, the 101-year-old Mr Gee Kee lives a quiet life in Sydney with his wife Betty, whom he married right after the war.
While 80 years on, Mr McAuley remains an idealist, advocating for a lasting peace in the world.
"I'm a survivor, and I have that responsibility to my friends, my mates and to past generations," he said.
RSL NSW will hold a Victory in the Pacific commemoration service at the Cenotaph at Martin Place in the Sydney CBD on Friday.
Other ceremonies will be held at the Shrine of Remembrance in Melbourne, Canberra's Australian War Memorial, and the State War Memorial in Perth.
Lifeline 13 11 14
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'People see injustice': fight goes on for Vietnam vets
Australians who fought in Vietnam have been acknowledged at ceremonies around the nation to mark the 59th anniversary of the costliest battle of the contentious conflict. The end of the Vietnam War, Australia's longest military engagement of the 20th century, was commemorated on Monday, the anniversary of the Battle of Long Tan in 1966. Services throughout Australia included a major gathering of servicemen and women in Sydney's Martin Place. But for many a different battle drags on. Bernie Cox attended in Sydney and told AAP people had gained a greater appreciation for what veterans of the conflict faced. "People can see the injustice of the whole thing," he said. After being conscripted to serve in Vietnam, he faced "animosity" attending university after he returned home. "Even some of those people now would say that was a bit unfair," he said. Relatives of Mr Cox served in World War I and World War II. "I just thought that's what Aussie kids did, join the army ... it's normal," he said. He found out that wasn't necessarily the case after being conscripted. "I got a bit of a shock, it wasn't such a great adventure in the end." Having not always felt fully recognised, 2500 Australians excluded from receiving the Vietnam Campaign Medal continue their struggle to be acknowledged despite increasing public awareness of what veterans went through. The Vietnam Veterans Association and the RSL are calling on the federal government to award the honour to the contingent, who were among 60,000 Australians to serve in the conflict between 1962 and 1975, but remain without acknowledgement because of a technicality. This year marks the 50th anniversary of the end of the war. Navy veteran Bob Braithwaite finally received his medal last week after multiple applications and rejections. After joining up as a teenager, he served 120 days in Vietnam before having to return because of injury. "It's very hard, very hard," Mr Braithwaite told AAP from his home in Adelaide in the lead-up to Vietnam Veterans' Day. "You weren't recognised as a full veteran in my books ... you could say it felt like being a car with only three wheels." Conscripted into service and sent to fight in a deeply unpopular war, the veterans awaiting recognition completed at least 60 days in-country, serving under harrowing conditions. Because their national service obligations ended before they reached the 181-day threshold, they were sent home and denied the campaign medal - and the recognition and respect many of their comrades received. Made to feel like they had not done enough, some were labelled "short-timers" and have since carried the burden. Mr Braithwaite takes medication for PTSD and undergoes a twice-yearly psychological check-up. "You'd go to a hotel on Anzac Day to have lunch and celebrate with your wife and a couple of close friends and the guys with the full medals would kind of look at you a bit funny, and you'd think, 'oh, OK, I haven't finished the process to become a full veteran'. "But the stigma has slowly worn off ... and we seem - the older we get, the fewer we get - to get more appreciation for what we've done." Christopher Anderson said some of his fellow veterans felt more closely aligned with Vietnam Veterans Day than other memorial days such as Anzac Day. "It is still an experience that is close to the hearts of those who participated," he said. "Many of us lost good friends." The broader community and RSL failed to treat veterans well or welcome Vietnam vets when they returned. Then-RSL NSW president Ray James, a veteran of the Vietnam War, was among those to deliver a formal apology on Vietnam Veterans Day in 2023. Some 3000 Australians were wounded throughout the conflict and 524 died during or as a result of their service in Vietnam. Lifeline 13 11 14 Open Arms 1800 011 046 Australians who fought in Vietnam have been acknowledged at ceremonies around the nation to mark the 59th anniversary of the costliest battle of the contentious conflict. The end of the Vietnam War, Australia's longest military engagement of the 20th century, was commemorated on Monday, the anniversary of the Battle of Long Tan in 1966. Services throughout Australia included a major gathering of servicemen and women in Sydney's Martin Place. But for many a different battle drags on. Bernie Cox attended in Sydney and told AAP people had gained a greater appreciation for what veterans of the conflict faced. "People can see the injustice of the whole thing," he said. After being conscripted to serve in Vietnam, he faced "animosity" attending university after he returned home. "Even some of those people now would say that was a bit unfair," he said. Relatives of Mr Cox served in World War I and World War II. "I just thought that's what Aussie kids did, join the army ... it's normal," he said. He found out that wasn't necessarily the case after being conscripted. "I got a bit of a shock, it wasn't such a great adventure in the end." Having not always felt fully recognised, 2500 Australians excluded from receiving the Vietnam Campaign Medal continue their struggle to be acknowledged despite increasing public awareness of what veterans went through. The Vietnam Veterans Association and the RSL are calling on the federal government to award the honour to the contingent, who were among 60,000 Australians to serve in the conflict between 1962 and 1975, but remain without acknowledgement because of a technicality. This year marks the 50th anniversary of the end of the war. Navy veteran Bob Braithwaite finally received his medal last week after multiple applications and rejections. After joining up as a teenager, he served 120 days in Vietnam before having to return because of injury. "It's very hard, very hard," Mr Braithwaite told AAP from his home in Adelaide in the lead-up to Vietnam Veterans' Day. "You weren't recognised as a full veteran in my books ... you could say it felt like being a car with only three wheels." Conscripted into service and sent to fight in a deeply unpopular war, the veterans awaiting recognition completed at least 60 days in-country, serving under harrowing conditions. Because their national service obligations ended before they reached the 181-day threshold, they were sent home and denied the campaign medal - and the recognition and respect many of their comrades received. Made to feel like they had not done enough, some were labelled "short-timers" and have since carried the burden. Mr Braithwaite takes medication for PTSD and undergoes a twice-yearly psychological check-up. "You'd go to a hotel on Anzac Day to have lunch and celebrate with your wife and a couple of close friends and the guys with the full medals would kind of look at you a bit funny, and you'd think, 'oh, OK, I haven't finished the process to become a full veteran'. "But the stigma has slowly worn off ... and we seem - the older we get, the fewer we get - to get more appreciation for what we've done." Christopher Anderson said some of his fellow veterans felt more closely aligned with Vietnam Veterans Day than other memorial days such as Anzac Day. "It is still an experience that is close to the hearts of those who participated," he said. "Many of us lost good friends." The broader community and RSL failed to treat veterans well or welcome Vietnam vets when they returned. Then-RSL NSW president Ray James, a veteran of the Vietnam War, was among those to deliver a formal apology on Vietnam Veterans Day in 2023. Some 3000 Australians were wounded throughout the conflict and 524 died during or as a result of their service in Vietnam. Lifeline 13 11 14 Open Arms 1800 011 046 Australians who fought in Vietnam have been acknowledged at ceremonies around the nation to mark the 59th anniversary of the costliest battle of the contentious conflict. The end of the Vietnam War, Australia's longest military engagement of the 20th century, was commemorated on Monday, the anniversary of the Battle of Long Tan in 1966. Services throughout Australia included a major gathering of servicemen and women in Sydney's Martin Place. But for many a different battle drags on. Bernie Cox attended in Sydney and told AAP people had gained a greater appreciation for what veterans of the conflict faced. "People can see the injustice of the whole thing," he said. After being conscripted to serve in Vietnam, he faced "animosity" attending university after he returned home. "Even some of those people now would say that was a bit unfair," he said. Relatives of Mr Cox served in World War I and World War II. "I just thought that's what Aussie kids did, join the army ... it's normal," he said. He found out that wasn't necessarily the case after being conscripted. "I got a bit of a shock, it wasn't such a great adventure in the end." Having not always felt fully recognised, 2500 Australians excluded from receiving the Vietnam Campaign Medal continue their struggle to be acknowledged despite increasing public awareness of what veterans went through. The Vietnam Veterans Association and the RSL are calling on the federal government to award the honour to the contingent, who were among 60,000 Australians to serve in the conflict between 1962 and 1975, but remain without acknowledgement because of a technicality. This year marks the 50th anniversary of the end of the war. Navy veteran Bob Braithwaite finally received his medal last week after multiple applications and rejections. After joining up as a teenager, he served 120 days in Vietnam before having to return because of injury. "It's very hard, very hard," Mr Braithwaite told AAP from his home in Adelaide in the lead-up to Vietnam Veterans' Day. "You weren't recognised as a full veteran in my books ... you could say it felt like being a car with only three wheels." Conscripted into service and sent to fight in a deeply unpopular war, the veterans awaiting recognition completed at least 60 days in-country, serving under harrowing conditions. Because their national service obligations ended before they reached the 181-day threshold, they were sent home and denied the campaign medal - and the recognition and respect many of their comrades received. Made to feel like they had not done enough, some were labelled "short-timers" and have since carried the burden. Mr Braithwaite takes medication for PTSD and undergoes a twice-yearly psychological check-up. "You'd go to a hotel on Anzac Day to have lunch and celebrate with your wife and a couple of close friends and the guys with the full medals would kind of look at you a bit funny, and you'd think, 'oh, OK, I haven't finished the process to become a full veteran'. "But the stigma has slowly worn off ... and we seem - the older we get, the fewer we get - to get more appreciation for what we've done." Christopher Anderson said some of his fellow veterans felt more closely aligned with Vietnam Veterans Day than other memorial days such as Anzac Day. "It is still an experience that is close to the hearts of those who participated," he said. "Many of us lost good friends." The broader community and RSL failed to treat veterans well or welcome Vietnam vets when they returned. Then-RSL NSW president Ray James, a veteran of the Vietnam War, was among those to deliver a formal apology on Vietnam Veterans Day in 2023. Some 3000 Australians were wounded throughout the conflict and 524 died during or as a result of their service in Vietnam. Lifeline 13 11 14 Open Arms 1800 011 046 Australians who fought in Vietnam have been acknowledged at ceremonies around the nation to mark the 59th anniversary of the costliest battle of the contentious conflict. The end of the Vietnam War, Australia's longest military engagement of the 20th century, was commemorated on Monday, the anniversary of the Battle of Long Tan in 1966. Services throughout Australia included a major gathering of servicemen and women in Sydney's Martin Place. But for many a different battle drags on. Bernie Cox attended in Sydney and told AAP people had gained a greater appreciation for what veterans of the conflict faced. "People can see the injustice of the whole thing," he said. After being conscripted to serve in Vietnam, he faced "animosity" attending university after he returned home. "Even some of those people now would say that was a bit unfair," he said. Relatives of Mr Cox served in World War I and World War II. "I just thought that's what Aussie kids did, join the army ... it's normal," he said. He found out that wasn't necessarily the case after being conscripted. "I got a bit of a shock, it wasn't such a great adventure in the end." Having not always felt fully recognised, 2500 Australians excluded from receiving the Vietnam Campaign Medal continue their struggle to be acknowledged despite increasing public awareness of what veterans went through. The Vietnam Veterans Association and the RSL are calling on the federal government to award the honour to the contingent, who were among 60,000 Australians to serve in the conflict between 1962 and 1975, but remain without acknowledgement because of a technicality. This year marks the 50th anniversary of the end of the war. Navy veteran Bob Braithwaite finally received his medal last week after multiple applications and rejections. After joining up as a teenager, he served 120 days in Vietnam before having to return because of injury. "It's very hard, very hard," Mr Braithwaite told AAP from his home in Adelaide in the lead-up to Vietnam Veterans' Day. "You weren't recognised as a full veteran in my books ... you could say it felt like being a car with only three wheels." Conscripted into service and sent to fight in a deeply unpopular war, the veterans awaiting recognition completed at least 60 days in-country, serving under harrowing conditions. Because their national service obligations ended before they reached the 181-day threshold, they were sent home and denied the campaign medal - and the recognition and respect many of their comrades received. Made to feel like they had not done enough, some were labelled "short-timers" and have since carried the burden. Mr Braithwaite takes medication for PTSD and undergoes a twice-yearly psychological check-up. "You'd go to a hotel on Anzac Day to have lunch and celebrate with your wife and a couple of close friends and the guys with the full medals would kind of look at you a bit funny, and you'd think, 'oh, OK, I haven't finished the process to become a full veteran'. "But the stigma has slowly worn off ... and we seem - the older we get, the fewer we get - to get more appreciation for what we've done." Christopher Anderson said some of his fellow veterans felt more closely aligned with Vietnam Veterans Day than other memorial days such as Anzac Day. "It is still an experience that is close to the hearts of those who participated," he said. "Many of us lost good friends." The broader community and RSL failed to treat veterans well or welcome Vietnam vets when they returned. Then-RSL NSW president Ray James, a veteran of the Vietnam War, was among those to deliver a formal apology on Vietnam Veterans Day in 2023. Some 3000 Australians were wounded throughout the conflict and 524 died during or as a result of their service in Vietnam. Lifeline 13 11 14 Open Arms 1800 011 046
7NEWS
6 hours ago
- 7NEWS
Aussie brand's miracle detangling products have pet owners raving about the results
Curly-coated dog owners, rejoice. There's finally a solution to the daily battle with knots, matts and hours of brushing that often ends in a shaved-down pup at the groomer. g'oodles is the Australian pet care brand dedicated to making coat care easier, faster and far less stressful for dogs and their humans. Founded by dog lover and former grooming facility manager Priscilla 'Pri' Barletta, g'oodles was born out of years spent watching pet owners walk out of grooming salons, heartbroken when their beloved oodles were returned almost bald. Groomers were exhausted, dogs were uncomfortable, and owners were frustrated. Pri knew there had to be a better way. 'My passion quickly became educating owners on how to maintain their dogs' coats,' she tells Best Picks. 'All I want to do is ease the pressure on groomers, make dogs comfortable and educate owners. 'These breeds are often sold as low maintenance, but I wouldn't call a dog that needs to be brushed every day low maintenance.' That honesty has struck a chord with Aussie pet parents, especially those raising Cavoodles, Groodles, Labradoodles, Spoodles and other curly-coated breeds. Even owners of long-haired dachshunds, Cocker Spaniels and Maremmas have reported amazing results. The game-changing range The current g'oodles lineup features two products, both proudly Australian-made, vegan and cruelty-free. They're also free from parabens, sulphates and TEA, and packaged in 100 per cent recycled PET bottles. Detangling Spray: This lightweight leave-in conditioner is designed to loosen knots, hydrate curls, and make brushing pain-free on wet or dry coats. The trick is to use it before bath time. 'Water makes knots and matts worse,' Pri explains. 'So what you want to do is spray and brush before washing them, otherwise you're just tightening the tangles.' Detangling Shampoo: A nourishing, gentle wash enriched with jojoba oil, chamomile and wheat protein to soften fur, reduce matting and leave coats fresh and fluffy. When used together, the results are dramatic. Pet owners are reporting easier brushing sessions, faster grooming times and noticeably shinier, healthier coats. Groomers are also welcoming the products, saying they've reduced the number of shave-downs needed in their salons. Why it matters for curly-coated breeds Oodles are one of the most popular dog breeds in Australia, but their coats are notoriously high-maintenance. Without regular brushing and proper detangling, their curls quickly turn into painful matts that can only be removed by clipping the hair short. It's uncomfortable for dogs and heartbreaking for owners. That's where g'oodles is stepping in. 'We saw a clear gap in the market for dogs with high-maintenance coats,' Pri says. 'Oodles deserve products designed specifically for them, not just generic shampoos that don't address the real problem.' Affordable at-home grooming The g'oodles range is available online, with bundles like the 'It Takes Two to Detangle' pack offering both the shampoo and spray for under $50 AUD. For pet parents, it means fewer costly trips to the groomer and a happier, healthier pup at home. Whether your dog has a full head of curls or just a tendency towards tangling, g'oodles is offering a better grooming experience for pets and owners alike.
ABC News
10 hours ago
- ABC News
WWII veteran Harold Slater remembers the day Japan surrendered
102-year-old Harold Slater is one of around 100 World War II veterans still living in Western Australia. On the 80th anniversary of Victory in the Pacific Day, he recalls the moments after Japan surrendered. Mr Slater was based in Wewak in Papua New Guinea. "My task was to put together a task force of four armed rifleman, a Japanese interpreter, and a broadcasting system," he said. "The bombs had been dropped on Nagasaki and Hiroshima but that news had never got down to where we were at Wewak. "It was our task to take an armed patrol boat up and down the banks and announce that the Emperor [of Japan] had surrendered, that they were to lay down their arms, and occupy the barb-wire enclosure we had erected." Mr Slater commemorates VP Day by remembering his fallen friends and brother-in-law. ( ) He still has the sword a Japanese soldier gave him in surrender. "I got him to write his name on a bandage and attached it to the sword," he said. "I promised him that if ever I went to Japan, I would take that sword with me and locate his parents. "It was a good intention of mine, but it never materialised, I could never find his parents." On VP Day he remembers his good friends and his brother-in-law who are no longer with him. "That's why I always go to the dawn service and the memorial services. To remember them, the mateship we enjoyed."
