This council spent millions on a beach. Just don't bring your cossie
An angry red warning brings you to your senses: 'This is not a designated swim site,' it reads. 'Use of this facility may be hazardous.'
But McIlwaine Park in Rhodes – part of a project to make the Parramatta River swimmable by 2025 at a cost of $8.7 million – won't be hosting bathers any time soon.
Nicole Xiang, 44, regularly brings her children to the park. They enjoy the new playground and picnic shelters from an additional $1.6 million upgrade this year, but she remains unconvinced by the foreshore.
'I wouldn't call it a beach. I think it's more like a large sandpit. We hardly use it,' she says.
She has no illusions about going for a swim in the suburb where Union Carbide manufactured Agent Orange during the Vietnam War. 'You just don't know what's what in the water.'
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The authorities do: although McIlwaine Park was identified as a possible swim site in 2018, testing later deemed it unsafe. Canada Bay Council, with state funding, went ahead with the beach, which is separated from the water by a sandstone seawall. Visitors are encouraged to wade in tidal rock pools at the water's edge, though Xiang says she remains wary.
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The Advertiser
9 hours ago
- The Advertiser
'One of the older men catcalled me': new research reveals RSL woman problem
Imagine serving your country overseas, returning home and feeling unwelcome in the very place meant to support you. That's what happened to a 44-year-old Australian Army officer who attended a local Returned and Services League (RSL) lunch while on leave. She recalls: Her story is far from unique. Our research from the Open Door Initiative at Flinders University reveals many women feel unwelcome in RSL spaces. Some leave. Others never join. Women describe subtle but persistent exclusion. One said: Another nicknamed her local RSL, dominated by older male veterans from the Vietnam War era, a "Vietnam veteran club", closed off to women and younger members. There she found walls lined with portraits of men in uniform, sexist jokes left unchallenged, and questions about the legitimacy of women veterans' medals. After years of falling membership and sub-branch closures, the RSL is at a crossroads. Founded in 1916 to support soldiers returning from the first world war, it offered camaraderie, assistance and a way back into civilian life. Today, 1,095 RSL sub-branches remain, barely half the number from its peak in 1946. Known for mid-week lunches, cheap drinks and Anzac Day services, the organisation was built by men, for men - a culture that still shapes how many sub-branches look, feel and operate. Fewer than 10% of the veteran population in some states choose to join their local RSL. In many branches nationally, non-veteran members now outnumber those who have served. Yet many veteran men still resist making space for women or younger veterans. One male interviewee told us bluntly: "I don't think we should change our traditions to accommodate [these] veterans". Sometimes exclusion is more direct. Sarah Case, a former sub-branch president in Queensland, recalled being labelled "a real bitch" by male branch members, adding: Deborah Langford, another woman veteran on a sub-branch committee in regional Victoria said: These issues shouldn't surprise. The RSL draws its members from the Australian Defence Force, where women have long reported sexism, harassment and inappropriate behaviour. Media reporting continues to highlight how entrenched these problems remain. It's no surprise those dynamics often carry over into veteran spaces. Many RSL branches feel frozen in time: beers, bingo and military banter. But younger veterans, especially women, are juggling work, families and the long-term impacts of service, including trauma. They need safe, inclusive spaces and real support. For women who have served, especially those who experienced harassment or assault during service, traditional RSL environments can feel unsafe. One veteran said: Some branches are starting to shift and even small changes can have a real impact. One woman veteran in Queensland described the support she received from her state branch as "faultless", though she said it was only possible because she was supported by one of the few women advocates on staff. At a Queensland sub-branch, Melissa Bishop, a veteran and newly appointed committee member, fought to move meetings to weekends so people with jobs and families could take part. One woman veteran described it as "the first time I'd felt like someone had thought about veterans like me." These are modest, hard-won changes, but scattered progress alone won't undo generations of exclusion. Last year, the Royal Commission into Defence and Veteran Suicide recommended creating a national body to better govern the veterans' non-profit sector. This presents a real opportunity to modernise veteran support. But without a strong focus on gender inclusion and cultural reform from the start, history may repeat, entrenching the same exclusions that have kept so many women veterans on the margins for decades. Women are not asking for special treatment. They are asking for veteran spaces that recognise their service, value their contributions and meet their needs. That means flexible programs, trauma-informed care, peer support and family-friendly events. The RSL now faces a defining choice: cling to outdated ideas or evolve into a space where all who have served feel they belong. Imagine serving your country overseas, returning home and feeling unwelcome in the very place meant to support you. That's what happened to a 44-year-old Australian Army officer who attended a local Returned and Services League (RSL) lunch while on leave. She recalls: Her story is far from unique. Our research from the Open Door Initiative at Flinders University reveals many women feel unwelcome in RSL spaces. Some leave. Others never join. Women describe subtle but persistent exclusion. One said: Another nicknamed her local RSL, dominated by older male veterans from the Vietnam War era, a "Vietnam veteran club", closed off to women and younger members. There she found walls lined with portraits of men in uniform, sexist jokes left unchallenged, and questions about the legitimacy of women veterans' medals. After years of falling membership and sub-branch closures, the RSL is at a crossroads. Founded in 1916 to support soldiers returning from the first world war, it offered camaraderie, assistance and a way back into civilian life. Today, 1,095 RSL sub-branches remain, barely half the number from its peak in 1946. Known for mid-week lunches, cheap drinks and Anzac Day services, the organisation was built by men, for men - a culture that still shapes how many sub-branches look, feel and operate. Fewer than 10% of the veteran population in some states choose to join their local RSL. In many branches nationally, non-veteran members now outnumber those who have served. Yet many veteran men still resist making space for women or younger veterans. One male interviewee told us bluntly: "I don't think we should change our traditions to accommodate [these] veterans". Sometimes exclusion is more direct. Sarah Case, a former sub-branch president in Queensland, recalled being labelled "a real bitch" by male branch members, adding: Deborah Langford, another woman veteran on a sub-branch committee in regional Victoria said: These issues shouldn't surprise. The RSL draws its members from the Australian Defence Force, where women have long reported sexism, harassment and inappropriate behaviour. Media reporting continues to highlight how entrenched these problems remain. It's no surprise those dynamics often carry over into veteran spaces. Many RSL branches feel frozen in time: beers, bingo and military banter. But younger veterans, especially women, are juggling work, families and the long-term impacts of service, including trauma. They need safe, inclusive spaces and real support. For women who have served, especially those who experienced harassment or assault during service, traditional RSL environments can feel unsafe. One veteran said: Some branches are starting to shift and even small changes can have a real impact. One woman veteran in Queensland described the support she received from her state branch as "faultless", though she said it was only possible because she was supported by one of the few women advocates on staff. At a Queensland sub-branch, Melissa Bishop, a veteran and newly appointed committee member, fought to move meetings to weekends so people with jobs and families could take part. One woman veteran described it as "the first time I'd felt like someone had thought about veterans like me." These are modest, hard-won changes, but scattered progress alone won't undo generations of exclusion. Last year, the Royal Commission into Defence and Veteran Suicide recommended creating a national body to better govern the veterans' non-profit sector. This presents a real opportunity to modernise veteran support. But without a strong focus on gender inclusion and cultural reform from the start, history may repeat, entrenching the same exclusions that have kept so many women veterans on the margins for decades. Women are not asking for special treatment. They are asking for veteran spaces that recognise their service, value their contributions and meet their needs. That means flexible programs, trauma-informed care, peer support and family-friendly events. The RSL now faces a defining choice: cling to outdated ideas or evolve into a space where all who have served feel they belong. Imagine serving your country overseas, returning home and feeling unwelcome in the very place meant to support you. That's what happened to a 44-year-old Australian Army officer who attended a local Returned and Services League (RSL) lunch while on leave. She recalls: Her story is far from unique. Our research from the Open Door Initiative at Flinders University reveals many women feel unwelcome in RSL spaces. Some leave. Others never join. Women describe subtle but persistent exclusion. One said: Another nicknamed her local RSL, dominated by older male veterans from the Vietnam War era, a "Vietnam veteran club", closed off to women and younger members. There she found walls lined with portraits of men in uniform, sexist jokes left unchallenged, and questions about the legitimacy of women veterans' medals. After years of falling membership and sub-branch closures, the RSL is at a crossroads. Founded in 1916 to support soldiers returning from the first world war, it offered camaraderie, assistance and a way back into civilian life. Today, 1,095 RSL sub-branches remain, barely half the number from its peak in 1946. Known for mid-week lunches, cheap drinks and Anzac Day services, the organisation was built by men, for men - a culture that still shapes how many sub-branches look, feel and operate. Fewer than 10% of the veteran population in some states choose to join their local RSL. In many branches nationally, non-veteran members now outnumber those who have served. Yet many veteran men still resist making space for women or younger veterans. One male interviewee told us bluntly: "I don't think we should change our traditions to accommodate [these] veterans". Sometimes exclusion is more direct. Sarah Case, a former sub-branch president in Queensland, recalled being labelled "a real bitch" by male branch members, adding: Deborah Langford, another woman veteran on a sub-branch committee in regional Victoria said: These issues shouldn't surprise. The RSL draws its members from the Australian Defence Force, where women have long reported sexism, harassment and inappropriate behaviour. Media reporting continues to highlight how entrenched these problems remain. It's no surprise those dynamics often carry over into veteran spaces. Many RSL branches feel frozen in time: beers, bingo and military banter. But younger veterans, especially women, are juggling work, families and the long-term impacts of service, including trauma. They need safe, inclusive spaces and real support. For women who have served, especially those who experienced harassment or assault during service, traditional RSL environments can feel unsafe. One veteran said: Some branches are starting to shift and even small changes can have a real impact. One woman veteran in Queensland described the support she received from her state branch as "faultless", though she said it was only possible because she was supported by one of the few women advocates on staff. At a Queensland sub-branch, Melissa Bishop, a veteran and newly appointed committee member, fought to move meetings to weekends so people with jobs and families could take part. One woman veteran described it as "the first time I'd felt like someone had thought about veterans like me." These are modest, hard-won changes, but scattered progress alone won't undo generations of exclusion. Last year, the Royal Commission into Defence and Veteran Suicide recommended creating a national body to better govern the veterans' non-profit sector. This presents a real opportunity to modernise veteran support. But without a strong focus on gender inclusion and cultural reform from the start, history may repeat, entrenching the same exclusions that have kept so many women veterans on the margins for decades. Women are not asking for special treatment. They are asking for veteran spaces that recognise their service, value their contributions and meet their needs. That means flexible programs, trauma-informed care, peer support and family-friendly events. The RSL now faces a defining choice: cling to outdated ideas or evolve into a space where all who have served feel they belong. Imagine serving your country overseas, returning home and feeling unwelcome in the very place meant to support you. That's what happened to a 44-year-old Australian Army officer who attended a local Returned and Services League (RSL) lunch while on leave. She recalls: Her story is far from unique. Our research from the Open Door Initiative at Flinders University reveals many women feel unwelcome in RSL spaces. Some leave. Others never join. Women describe subtle but persistent exclusion. One said: Another nicknamed her local RSL, dominated by older male veterans from the Vietnam War era, a "Vietnam veteran club", closed off to women and younger members. There she found walls lined with portraits of men in uniform, sexist jokes left unchallenged, and questions about the legitimacy of women veterans' medals. After years of falling membership and sub-branch closures, the RSL is at a crossroads. Founded in 1916 to support soldiers returning from the first world war, it offered camaraderie, assistance and a way back into civilian life. Today, 1,095 RSL sub-branches remain, barely half the number from its peak in 1946. Known for mid-week lunches, cheap drinks and Anzac Day services, the organisation was built by men, for men - a culture that still shapes how many sub-branches look, feel and operate. Fewer than 10% of the veteran population in some states choose to join their local RSL. In many branches nationally, non-veteran members now outnumber those who have served. Yet many veteran men still resist making space for women or younger veterans. One male interviewee told us bluntly: "I don't think we should change our traditions to accommodate [these] veterans". Sometimes exclusion is more direct. Sarah Case, a former sub-branch president in Queensland, recalled being labelled "a real bitch" by male branch members, adding: Deborah Langford, another woman veteran on a sub-branch committee in regional Victoria said: These issues shouldn't surprise. The RSL draws its members from the Australian Defence Force, where women have long reported sexism, harassment and inappropriate behaviour. Media reporting continues to highlight how entrenched these problems remain. It's no surprise those dynamics often carry over into veteran spaces. Many RSL branches feel frozen in time: beers, bingo and military banter. But younger veterans, especially women, are juggling work, families and the long-term impacts of service, including trauma. They need safe, inclusive spaces and real support. For women who have served, especially those who experienced harassment or assault during service, traditional RSL environments can feel unsafe. One veteran said: Some branches are starting to shift and even small changes can have a real impact. One woman veteran in Queensland described the support she received from her state branch as "faultless", though she said it was only possible because she was supported by one of the few women advocates on staff. At a Queensland sub-branch, Melissa Bishop, a veteran and newly appointed committee member, fought to move meetings to weekends so people with jobs and families could take part. One woman veteran described it as "the first time I'd felt like someone had thought about veterans like me." These are modest, hard-won changes, but scattered progress alone won't undo generations of exclusion. Last year, the Royal Commission into Defence and Veteran Suicide recommended creating a national body to better govern the veterans' non-profit sector. This presents a real opportunity to modernise veteran support. But without a strong focus on gender inclusion and cultural reform from the start, history may repeat, entrenching the same exclusions that have kept so many women veterans on the margins for decades. Women are not asking for special treatment. They are asking for veteran spaces that recognise their service, value their contributions and meet their needs. That means flexible programs, trauma-informed care, peer support and family-friendly events. The RSL now faces a defining choice: cling to outdated ideas or evolve into a space where all who have served feel they belong.
ABC News
2 days ago
- ABC News
Vietnam War Memorial Walk officially opens in Edithburgh on SA's Yorke Peninsula
It was an idea that came to two best mates over a cup of coffee, and two years later, hundreds were there to see it come to fruition. In 2023, Vietnam War veteran Roger Hogben and his friend John Edwards were at a cafe leafing through the newspaper, where they saw an item about the 50th anniversary of Australia pulling out of the conflict. They began discussing how to commemorate 50 years since the war ended, and this week, the Vietnam War Memorial Walk on South Australia's Yorke Peninsula was officially opened. The 3.7-kilometre-long trail connects Edithburgh and Coobowie, with information plaques about every Australian unit that served. Ex-rifleman Mr Hogben, of nearby Brentwood, said he could not wear his medals after he came home from the war — but "not out of shame". "When I came home, I was told by an RSL on ANZAC Day that I shouldn't have been there because I wasn't involved in a 'proper war'. "The troops that came home were, in some cases, rejected and held responsible for a war they had no choice in." Mr Hogben said that had since "changed dramatically, and the anger has dissipated". The 29 laser-cut signs, including two honour boards, are made of steel and designed to be weather-resistant. All information about personnel and their role in the conflict was verified by the Vietnam Veterans Association. Asked if the signs would still be there for the 100th anniversary, Mr Hogben chuckled: "They definitely will be, but I won't." More than 400 people from across the country, many donning their own medals, descended on Edithburgh for the special Veterans' Day event on Monday. A genuine Vietnam-era UH-1H helicopter — sometimes known as a "Huey" — flew from Shellharbour in NSW for the event, landing on the nearby golf course. Recently restored by the volunteer-run Historic Aircraft Restoration Society, it took three days for the more than 70-year-old Iroquois chopper to make the trip to the Yorke Peninsula. The Huey A2-703, which has been described as "the soundtrack to the Vietnam War", was an important addition to the day; with its very sound stirring up memories for veterans. "It's a unique sound — it's the sound of the war, but also the sound of coming back," Mr Hogben said. In attendance was Sir Peter Cosgrove, former Governor-General and Defence Force Chief, who said the memorial was "a testament to the way the community embraces their veterans". "It was a war of its period and when we look back on it, we mourn the fact that it took place," Mr Cosgrove said. "But on the other hand, our men and women behaved magnificently in answering their nation's call and fighting for a cause which we now look back on and say, 'We're relieved we've made friends with the Vietnamese people'." Australian War Memorial director Matt Anderson, another guest, said there were few memorials across the country that "try to convey as much information as this one does about all the elements who served". "As you take in this stunning walk, you're informed about the nature of that service, the nature of that sacrifice," Mr Anderson said. "So then, hopefully, when you go into the Cenotaph in town and lay a poppy or a wreath, it's meaningful, and this [memorial] allows for meaningful commemoration". Folk singer John Schumann, known for his Vietnam-era anthem I Was Only 19, also delivered an afternoon concert at the Light Church in honour of the event. "If you wander around Australia, almost every town has a monument to their community members who served in the World Wars and over the years, but the Vietnam War is sort of out on its own," he said. "I think a memorial like this has a particular poignancy, to have a walk along the coastline, with points to stop and reflect."
The Advertiser
3 days ago
- The Advertiser
'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
