I have a Memorial Service to attend... Which is Good and Shit, at the same time...
...Two Diggers died, in training, at a School, not attached to a Regiment so beyond the official investigation and dutiful memorial, commiserations to the Family, sadly it went by the by. No bullets flying, no visible enemy... No massive fireballs of exploding helicopters or Active Service, etc... ...Two young Diggers killed in a training accident.
It was 1988... I'd Corp Transferred from Artillery to Armour and a fellow 107 Bty Signaller [and concurrent Malaysia Veteran] came in on the Course following me...
Any Army job is potentially dangerous and more kit = more dangerous, in training.
In battle, more kit is supposed to protect a Digger as he's well trained.
But the start of training is learning the systems and components... then going out for a show-drive about a week or so later... where the 'Driving and Servicing' Instructor will cautiously let the students "take the sticks"!
Armoured Vehicles [usually called Tanks] are tricky beasts! They are brisky as a Colt, stubborn as a Mule, solid as a Charger and finnicky as a Filly. ...Descended from Cavalry, modern Armour holds the scary and huge image, as well as the pernickety and fragile of horses...
On the Demonstration Drive... An M113 drove down a steep hill... Demonstrated by the Instructor.
I've spent many, many hours Driving and Commanding Carriers [M113] and it's usually grinding vibrating routine... But when you're young and new; it's exciting!
Something went shitful and the world went total pox... a car went wrong on a steep slope and ... Oh Shit!
An accident! Two Diggers died in the accident... Everyone saw the dust cloud and heard the radio calls... and witnessed the shit-fight yonder. Frantic calls to Range Control, ...triage of the wounded, the time-lapse of the call-then-help...
I was not on their Course, but the Course prior... I barely remember David Stanley or Rod Slade... a Mate from my previous posting was on that Course so I dropped in, meeting a lot of lads...
My mate reached out and said "Hey... Do you remember..."
Mates call mates answer...
I remember... !! My mate remembers...
He said and reminded me that " Lest We Forget!" has no expiry date!
Days later... (After many months of messaging and calls and to-ing and fro-ing to Organise the Memorial Service...) I met with my Mate (who gave me a ride, put me up on a spare bed in his Motel and gave me a beer) and ...
The Memorial was cathartic, heartfelt, touching and a release... for those poor sorry folk that experienced the trauma of 30+yrs ago.
I tried not to tear-up... and succeeded. (Yay for me... any everyone else that didn't.
Sadly... but a teary group-hug is NOT the ideal... )
I touched base with many blokes who were still living the trauma... denying it, side-stepping or just adding it to a litany of other horrors... We had beers and told "war-stories" [which have naught to do with Battle, but of funny stuff and pranks and wankers] and kept a stiff upper lip while being Calm and Considerate...
My Mate gave me a lift to the train... I was proud that I didn't burst into tears, in his hire-car... I wanted too!
I'll stop now...
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