This is a collection of memories about the year I spent at the RAAF Academy in 1965, in the first year of 18 Course. It will be a little disjointed; nevertheless I hope it will shed some light on what I did during that year.
At that time, the RAAF Academy was based at Point Cook, Victoria - a bare expanse of flat land beside Port Phillip Bay, where it's damn cold and windy in winter. The Academy's activities are now performed at the Australian Defence Force Academy in Canberra. Point Cook was very much a mix of the old and the new, having been the birthplace of the RAAF before WWI. Other units on the base in the 1960s were the Basic Flying Training School (BFTS), the School of Languages and the Institute of Aviation Medicine. There was also a Museum containing some old aircraft, WWI flying suits and the like.
At one time in 1965, the RAAF PR people set up a photo shoot that featured me in WWI flying gear and Mark Thomas in a contemporary flight suit and helmet posing beside the 1912 Deperdussin aircraft from the Museum. Maybe it was part of a publicity campaign - we didn't ask. I'd like to find a copy of that photo.
The Academy Barracks were a collection of one-storey wooden/fibro buildings between the Base Officers' Mess and the Academy Admin Block. Within a couple of years a brand-new multi-storey barracks would be built near the Science Block, somewhat further from the Mess. I don't know whether this caused problems for the cadets in getting to meals in the environment of the Academy - these days we'd say that we were time-poor.
Each cadet had a sparsely-furnished room, with a bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a desk and a chair. Some decoration was allowed, and model aircraft were popular.
The long corridors of the barracks had brown linoleum floors and it was our job to keep these highly polished, using vigorous strokes of long-handled scrubbers that made a loud whack-whack sound against the walls on each side.
The Academy had been created a few years previously from the RAAF College, by the addition of formal University study for a BSc under the auspices of the University of Melbourne - or for a BEng at the University of Sydney. The rationale appeared to be that because pilots (and we were all training to be pilots and by extension the leaders of the RAAF) were involved with high-tech equipment we should have scientific training. It was never explained how having a BSc would help if you were upside down in a dogfight and had an engine flame out. Further, the pilot trainees who were not accepted into the Academy seemed to have no such problems. (A number of notable senior officers in the RAAF in recent years have not been Academy graduates.)
Then there was the matter of people without an aptitude for Science who might have preferred to do a BA, but could nevertheless have become highly proficient leaders in the RAAF. So it goes.
We (in First Year at least) had nothing to do with people training at BFTS, which was intended to be a place to train pilots quickly: a one-year experience rather than the four-plus at the Academy. There was a bit of subtle snobbery, but as their barracks and Mess were away from ours we didn't mix much at all. What was remarkable was that BFTS catered for pilot training for all three services, so you'd occasionally see three groups of cadets being shouted at by drill sergeants or petty officers on their parade ground as they all learned to march, halt and salute in their own distinctive ways.
All Academy cadets did their first year together in the same subjects: Physics, Chemistry, Pure and Applied Maths and a token nod at English. After that, those who chose Engineering would go to Sydney for the next three years, coming back during vacation times to catch up with their military training. (Academy cadets generally got only six weeks leave during the year, from mid December to the end of January. Vacation times during the year were generally spent on excursions like skiing or other organised travel). The Engineers were much envied because in Sydney they lived in dorms where
After the three years of study for a BSc, the Point Cook-based cadets spent their fourth year in military studies, specifically working on a thesis on Air Power.
After they graduated from the Academy they went to do real flying training - which was the reason why they'd signed up of course. Originally they would have started at BFTS on the Winjeel prop-driven planes and then gone to Pearce in WA for advanced training in jets, but around our time the RAAF introduced ab initio training in the Macchi jet aircraft, which meant that all flying training would be then done at Pearce.
(I'm trying to remember where the Engineers came in, because I'm pretty sure theirs was a four-year course, which wouldn't have left them much time for military studies. I have a suspicion that they spent all of fourth year in Sydney, graduated, then did their military studies and then their flying training.)
Life was difficult in many ways, although when we learned about how they lived at the Army colleges at Portsea and Duntroon we knew that we shouldn't complain.
The typical day started with getting out of bed before 6 am if you had to do punishment drills - if you'd been a good boy you could sleep in until a bit later. The drills consisted of dressing in:
One of the longed-for features in the promised new barracks was a lockable rifle rack in each room, so you wouldn't have to go to the armoury and could save that precious extra couple of minutes. The rooms were also going to have wash basins. Luxury!
Then you and your fellow malefactors (up to twenty, and not all of them First Years) assembled near the barracks and trotted at the double in formation with your rifle at the high port (held up around your chest) around the parade ground for forty-five minutes, under the command of an Orderly Cadet (from Third Year, as I recall). There were stories that in winter when it was dark, you could slip out of formation, have a rest and catch up with the group next time around. I never did it, and I don't recall seeing anyone else trying this one on.
After the drill, you had to race back and then shower, shave and dress in time to troop off to breakfast. After breakfast, you had to tidy your room (to a high standard of cleanliness), clean the common areas of the barracks and prepare for morning parade. In winter this entailed a great deal of brushing the blue woollen uniforms that were major fluff magnets; you did this in pairs.
Morning Parade was held on the nearby parade ground at 8.30 am. The feared WOD (Warrant Officer, Disciplinary) would accompany the CO in inspecting us, relying on such tricks as to put us between him and the sun so that he could check if we'd shaved that morning. We'd then be dismissed and assemble with our books and stuff to double off to lectures. The doubling was only for First Year cadets; those in upper classes were allowed to march smartly.
We broke from lectures in the middle of the day and reported to the Mess (actually an Annexe to the Mess, just for Academy cadets) for lunch. This meal was a bit more leisurely than breakfast, when we had usually been in a hurry to get the chores done at the start of the day. First Year cadets waited on the others at all meals, taking orders from the printed menus on each table, but we were also granted a little leniency in being able to stay later at the tables after the others had left. We took this opportunity whenever possible to clean up any extra bread or other food that we could scrounge from the cooks. This was known as "doing a gannet".
After lunch, it was back to lectures - except for Wednesday when we had the afternoon off for sports training. Participation in sport was strongly encouraged at the Academy, and when we first arrived we were given full kit for cricket, athletics and tennis. (Jerseys and shorts for football and hockey were supplied when you were selected for one of the teams.) I would have liked to have taken my cricket sweater with me when I left, but as it had never been worn they decided to keep it.
At the end of the day, we had an hour or so until dinner (around 6.30 I believe) which we could spend doing anything we wanted. After dinner, we again had free time until 8 pm, when we had to go to our rooms to study. In the evening we could spend time in the Ante Room, a building with armchairs, billiard tables, aviation magazines and TV. It also had a shop run by the cadets where you could buy soft drinks, chocolates, cigarettes and cleaning material.
After Lights Out, you could still keep your lights on but you had to stay in your room. And so to bed.
We wore uniforms at all times during the week, except for when we were in the barracks in the evening. At weekends, uniforms were necessary only at meals and in the Ante Room.
When we arrived, as well as being given our sporting kit we were issued with summer and winter uniforms - mostly off the peg unless we had a distinctive shape, in which case some tailoring was involved.
That year, we all benefitted from the new summer uniform made of khaki cotton/polyester, rather than the tough cotton shirts and trousers that were more difficult to iron. Also, for the first time cadets were allowed to have ironing boards in their rooms. Before then, you were only able to iron your clothes in the communal laundry, and only then during certain hours - and Lights Out was rigidly enforced at 10 pm each night. This meant that cadets often had to get up very early in the morning and break the rules by sneaking into the laundry to do their ironing. I was told that you'd see a long line of cadets there from all Years waiting their turn. Crazy!
Winter Service Dress uniforms consisted of a blue cotton shirt, black tie and blue serge battledress jacket and trousers. (There was a more formal uniform for more formal events: the 1A. This was a dark blue tunic and trousers, of better quality than the SD and it didn't need so much brushing.) The SD trousers were equipped with braces and buttoned to the battledress jacket, so you were able to hang the complete outfit (including the ready-knotted tie) on a coat hanger behind your door. Some cadets chose not to wash the blue shirt at all during the winter and the sleeves tended to rot off after a few months.
Our headgear was the officer's peaked cap, with a white band around the crown. Some cadets tried to get a rakish bash into it, but this was very much frowned upon. Similarly, there were attempts to put minor variations into the standard salute; one member of our Course was the main culprit in this endeavour.
I mentioned earlier about punishment drills. Most military academies have some sort of way or recording misdemeanours: at West Point you had to be some sort of superman (like Bobby Lee) to get through your time without earning any demerits.
You'd get a drill by having shoes not perfectly shined, having a dirty or unbrushed uniform, lounging around with your hands in your pockets, or not having kept your room clean. You could also get drills by failing to keep the communal areas clean - in which case all the cadets responsible would be punished.
At the whim of a senior cadet you could also be ordered to do ten, twenty, thirty push-ups for minor infractions. At the beginning this was quite a trial, until we became fitter and stronger.
We had standard University-type lectures, with the only difference that we were always early to class and we stood to attention when the lecturer entered the room. We followed the standard syllabus for each subject, and we had some idiosyncratic teachers.
Bernie Schaefer taught Chemistry and was an expert in gas ionisation. I didn't get on too well with him, and he did have a reputation for being a bit of a tartar. His assistant was Mr Douglas; he was quite friendly and had the nickname "Beaky".
Eric Unthank was our main Physics lecturer and was a genial person.
I recall little of the Maths lecturers, except that Basil Rennie was very donnish, had us over for morning tea after church on Sundays and couldn't teach for peanuts. He achieved a very low pass rate in his subject in our year and I believe he left soon after.
The English teacher's name was Mike Webb and was very approachable. We were invited to his home (off the base) once and I recall he had a large living room with two grand pianos.
And it was the Orderly Cadet's responsibility to chalk on the board at the beginning of each lecture the NODBAL count. (Number Of Days Before Annual Leave)
The Commandant of the Academy was Air Commodore Keith Parsons, whom we saw only on ceremonial occasions. His deputy was Group Captain "Digger" Shiells. I had little to do with him, but one of his exploits stays with me. He was giving a lecture to the First Year early on and had casually laid a revolver on the table as he came in. After a while we forgot about it as he droned on and on. Then, with one movement he picked up the gun, pointed it to the ceiling and pulled the trigger. The explosion caught our attention - and he explained that he was trying to teach us that every gun should be assumed to be loaded. I recall that he had at least two beautiful daughters, one of whom was going steady with one of the cadets of 15 Course.
The Officer Commanding, Cadet Squadron was Squadron Leader Tony Powell, a RAF pilot who gave us permission to wear RAF ties when there was a delay in delivering the Academy version. I believe he died in a car accident a couple of years after I was there.
The only other notable staff member was Alan Reed, who was the First Year Flight Commander. He later returned to the Academy as Commandant.
Fourth Year cadets seemed to be biding their time until Graduation when they could join the Air Force proper. They'd already fulfilled the academic criteria for their BSc, and were the Lords of Creation and occupied a special place in the life of the Academy. From their ranks were found four Under-Officers: the Senior Cadet Under Officer and his deputy and the two Flight leaders. They had special shoulder slides and were addressed as "Under Officer". It was believed that there would always be one Roman Catholic among their number, which pleased Michael Herbert from 17 Course because he was the only RC remaining in that year1.
Brendan O'Loghlin ("Bol") was the Squadron Air Cadet Under Officer, an austere person who went on to be an Air Vice Marshall. (I have only recently discovered that he was an alumnus of Indooroopilly High.) His deputy (and President of the Mess Committee) was Chris Hudnott, whom I remember only for his shuffling style as a good long-distance runner.
'A' Flight was led by Brendan Roberts, a Top Gun if ever there was one. Handsome and dashing, he was a natural athlete and went on to a distinguished career as a fighter pilot.
'B' Flight's leader was Dave Bowden, an ex-Churchie boy. He was a big lad, and his nickname was Baby Huey. He ended his career as an Air Commodore.
The other Fourth Years were addressed as "Senior Air Cadet", wore shoulder slides with two stripes and didn't have specific roles - but some were memorable for different reasons. We wondered how Terry "Tambo" O'Brian would get his big bum into a cockpit; Stafford "Sid" James had a Sunbeam Alpine, until he pranged it; Hugo Dreimanis once upbraided me for singing a parody of "When the Saints go marching in".
Third Year cadets were bastards2. They could hardly wait until they became Fourth Years, they gave First Years all sorts of orders, and didn't have the easy relationships with us that Second Years did. They were addressed as "Senior Air Cadet" and wore two stripes. Only a few stand out in my memory. Mal Roberson was the One To Keep Your Eye On. He had a bit of a swagger but was clearly a leader in waiting. He just about swept the pool in the 1966 Graduation prize-giving. He died in a flying training accident with Leigh Ferguson a few years later.
Then there was Bob Enders, a very likeable bloke who always looked a little untidy and was a keen punter. He died in a helicopter crash near Canberra a few years later.
I remember one other Third Year, who was an object of some sympathy. Over the previous two years, his sight had deteriorated and he now wore glasses. We'd all had to have a full physical examination before joining the Academy, but his changed condition meant that he'd never be a pilot and therefore was a second-class citizen - at least in the view of the cadets. It was said with some pity that he'd probably become a Supply Officer.
I was diagnosed as being short-sighted in 1968, a few months before I would have graduated - had I stayed at the Academy.
Second Year cadets were our friends - after all they'd been in our position only a few months ago. They wore one stripe and were addressed as "Air Cadet". One reason for the close bond between them and us was that we had four members of 17 Course repeating First Year (Graham Thomas, Mike Garratty, Bill Evans and Bruce Mouatt). Some of Second Year were allocated as "daddies" to us to show us the ropes, how to spit polish our shoes etc.
It has occurred to me that it would have been a good idea to have had academic "daddies" as well.
In doing some fact-checking for this memoir, I came across a history of the College / Academy that addressed at length the tension between the academic and military life. It seems that military standards went downhill in the late 1960s and conditions became quite slack - before a new broom came in to reverse this pernicious trend.
First Year cadets were the lowest of the low. We knew nothing (except for those who were repeating First Year) and had to do most of the cleaning work in the Barracks. We were also mostly unfit and probably benefited from all the drill punishments we were given for being untidy, not having shoes shined and hiding dirty clothes in our room (we quaintly thought that we could discover new hiding places that cadets from all the previous years had never been able to find).
We wore blank white shoulder slides and were addressed as "Cadet", or just "Webb!".
All the stress of coping with the military life and studies was too much for some First Year cadets. Most of the First Years managed one way or another, but 18 Course lost around half of its number in that year. I understand that this led to a bit of a shake-up in the selection process. In any case, I take my hat off to the ones who made it, not only to the Second Year, but eventually to Graduation.
One of the first things we were told to do was to give nicknames to all of our mates in First Year. Some of them showed imagination; many didn't.
Examples: Dave "Ho Daddy" Hobday (he looked like a surfie), John "JC" Cowan, John "Brackets" Spurgeon (he tried to get us to call him Spud; that took a while to catch on), Peter "Snake" Tippett (he was long and skinny), Kerry "Hairs" Webb (I didn't have many), Col "Ferret" Westmore (short and with a sharp nose).
Everyone was required to play sports at that time, although this was easier to enforce in winter when there were more opportunities. Summer sports included cricket, tennis, swimming and athletics. As a high jumper, I went to some athletics competitions at Melbourne Uni and occasionally took the opportunity to slip away and call home to Brisbane from a public phone there.
We were lucky in First Year to have a genuine Athletics star in our midst. Al Titheridge ("the cadet with the longest legs in the world") was an ace sprinter, hurdler and long jumper - and would have gone on to higher things in the sporting world had he not been at the Academy. He showed this at the first athletics meet we went to - the Inter-Service College Athletics Carnival (ISCAM) at Jervis Bay - and although the Academy didn't win (I've seen it reported that we came last), Al did very well indeed.
At Churchie, my sports had been high-jumping and cross-country running. As I was the only specialist high jumper at the Academy, that was my summer sport. Although Brendan Roberts was an all-rounder and was a better jumper than I was, he didn't have to train very much. So I was out there on my own, and it was up to me to drag the posts, cross bar and landing bags out of storage each week and set them up so that I could just go on jumping. It would have been better to have some coaching, I'm sure.
Thinking it over now, the Academy wasn't interested in giving cadets new sporting skills. If you didn't know how to play cricket or tennis or hockey before you came, there was no chance of learning once you got there. I don't remember much about Rugby training, but it was probably mostly about fitness (not that we needed much training for that). I suspect that the job of coaching was usually given to some officer or senior NCO.
In winter, the options were Aussie Rules, Rugby or Hockey. My Aussie Rules skills weren't outstanding, so Rugby was where I went. It was a strange competition because the code was not popular in Melbourne - being played mostly by private schools and service units. I recall our first game was against the Army Apprentice School at Balcombe on the Mornington Peninsula and I had been placed in the second row (as a six-foot stringbean - I'm lucky I survived). I kept asking our captain Graham Thomas how much longer the game would last, and he did his best to encourage me to keep at it. There were easier games later in the year (and harder ones against Portsea and Duntroon) and by then I'd been located on the wing, where I was much better suited. I also recall trying to get to the Rugby ground in Royal Park in a taxi - the driver didn't have a clue what I was talking about.
There was a time when a bunch of us once went over to Laverton to try out for a RAAF representative team. One of our number had a famous RAAF father, and was accustomed to having people ask if he was any relation. So, here's this Sergeant reading out our names from the list, and when he got to Spud's name there was something about the way he said it, so Spud nodded and said "Son". The Sergeant asked in a bewildered voice why this cadet was calling him "son".
And my Rugby experience brought me face-to-face with football prejudice of a nasty kind. If you were injured on the weekend but were not obviously expiring, you had to attend sick parade on Monday. There you were examined by a crusty old doctor who loved his Aussie Rules; he refused to treat you if you referred to Rugby as "football". What a prick!
There was a fair bit of cross-country running going on. I used to go for long runs beyond the airfield around a large lake/lagoon. And then there was the big relay.
When we had our bivouac at Portsea early in the year, there was a bit of interaction and war games with the OCS cadets, and our coup de grace was painting the tank at the entrance to the college - we painted it pink. Later in the year, someone had the idea that we could run a relay from Point Cook to Portsea and in the baton would be a picture of the pink tank (long over-painted by the OCS cadets in a more boring colour). So we did the relay, running each mile leg in less than 5 minutes 30 seconds, and handed over the baton to the guys at OCS. They generously offered to beat the time when they ran the course back to us - in full battle kit.
I never heard any more of this suggestion (they may have done something in the next year). It actually highlighted an interesting aspect of their system. With only a ten-month course, they didn't have the continuity or sense of history there that Academy cadets would build up over four years. Indeed, when they looked inside the baton, they said "Hey - that's our Sherman tank" which showed that our little bit of artwork hadn't stayed long in the OCS culture.
While it never approached The Lord of the Flies for violence, life at the Academy involved a fair bit of boyish rough-housing. There'd be (often at the urging of senior-year cadets) some ganging-up on one or more unfortunates and the end result was often a ducking in a ceremonial pond. You were supposed to resist of course, but the unwritten law was that when the gang and the captive approached the pond all struggling had to cease because there were big dangerous ceremonial rocks there.
The game could become quite vindictive, especially if the victim was unpopular. If he locked the window and door to his room he might wait out the hullabaloo. Then again one of the gang might have a bottle of Murlex (widely used for cleaning stains off your uniform) and this might be poured under the door and the puddle could be then set on fire. This could cause a real problem - not because the door might burn down, but because the uniform was hung on a hook behind the door and just try explaining that to the WOD on parade the next day.
Sometimes the prey would escape over the road to the darkened airfield, go to ground and wait out the pursuit. Great fun!
Despite this savagery, the First Year cadets did bond quickly within our group. It was a survival mechanism, and helped us build the esprit de corps that would help the class get through the following years. We were still individuals though: there was no rallying around to support someone who was falling behind militarily or academically. That was probably part of the evolutionary process. In my reading in the history of the College and Academy I found reference to the idea that PQs (Personal Qualities, a set of attributes by which you were continually judged) had a link to academic success: if you had the necessary PQs you would study and pass your academic tests. It's a debatable point, I think.
After our first few weeks being confined to the base (and to the camp at Portsea) we were given weekend leave. For a couple of the Melbourne-based lads, this meant packing their dirty clothes into a kitbag and taking them home to Mum to be washed. Until they were caught doing it.
For me, it meant going (in walking-out clothes of blazer, tie and grey slacks) into Melbourne to shop, have a meal and maybe see a movie. Most times I went back on Saturday evening, catching the RAAF bus at Spencer Street, but occasionally I stayed overnight with a family who my father introduced me to.
Of course I knew no girls in Melbourne, but I was introduced to one by another cadet, and while we never walked out together she was my date for the Mid-year Ball. I met another girl at the Winter Ski Trip and tried to set up a couple of weekend dates afterwards. We lost interest before anything could be arranged.
One of the inhibitors to a social life was the lack of transport (and Point Cook was a 45 minute drive from Melbourne in those days). A few cadets had cars and would give us a lift into town if space was available - otherwise we had to rely on the good old RAAF bus. A taxi ride to town was prohibitively expensive.
I also spent a weekend once with a cousin and her husband who lived in Altona. We didn't get on well, partly because his main topic of conversation was how many sheep he'd stolen and how he butchered them and destroyed the evidence.
On one occasion, we teamed up with the girls of some posh boarding school for an event at a town hall in Melbourne. The details are a little vague, which means that I didn't make much of an impact with any of the young ladies
The three Queenslanders - Ken Webb, Leigh Ferguson and me - arrived in Melbourne by train late in January 1965. I don't recall much about the trip down south - we probably stayed somewhere overnight in Sydney - and I think we were collected at Spencer Street Station in Melbourne by a RAAF bus.
Once at Point Cook we were shown our rooms and introduced to the cadets who'd arrived from other states, and the next day they started kitting us out. I don't have much recollection of the next few days, and shortly after that we headed off to Portsea for a bivouac. For a week or so we lived under canvas, marched, played soldiers, ran up and down hills, bonded, fired guns of various types and had an all-round good time. Seriously.
When we came back, we continued our military studies (marching and stuff) and also started repairing and replacing the Academy's stock of fibreglass kayaks. These were to be used in our Easter excursion down the Goulburn River.
In these early days, our numbers were reduced by two. One was a smart lad who didn't expect the military life to dominate our academic pursuits quite so much, and he was able to convince another cadet that the answer to this problem was to go AWOL. They returned fairly quickly and just as quickly were discharged from the service.
Halfway through the first semester, we spent the Easter break kayaking from Eildon Weir down to Yea. We carried clothes and food in the kayaks and a RAAF truck met us each night at a pre-arranged spot. It was fun, despite the frequent spills and dealing with sodden clothes and food. And we did a bit more bonding.
In the winter break, the Ski Trip was the highlight. A few of us were playing Rugby on the Saturday and couldn't travel up with the main crew in the bus, so we went in the back of a truck and stopped for a meal on the way. We arrived late at night at the YMCA Hostel at Falls Creek. The next morning we awoke to a winter wonderland and a mixed dining room of girls and boys - and girls! It was a fun week.
Few of us had skied before and some were more daring than others. We all improved our skiing skills, with no major injuries - although some of our mob tried their hardest. We also participated in a certain amount of alcohol consumption - strictly forbidden by the YMCA of course.
As for fraternisation with the girls during that week, well, my lips are sealed.
On a couple of occasions during the year during term breaks we had "Air Experience", which involved informal flying lessons where we were allowed to take the controls for a while. It was a bit of a thrill to go up in a two-seater Winjeel trainer, although I was prone to airsickness. We did spend a lot of time waiting around between flights and managed to make inroads into the well-stocked kitchens in the Readiness Rooms.
There were no other highlights that I can remember from that year before the final exams. Those of us who hadn't worked hard enough watched these approach with a sense of doom, and it came as no surprise that a number found that we wouldn't be around next year.
A couple who were judged to have the right aptitude were permitted to transfer to BFTS; most were just shown the door. One lucky lad was allowed to repeat First Year.
For the ones who wouldn't be going on, the final few weeks of the year were quite a trial. Our classmates were looking forward to Graduation Day and the Graduation Ball and the transition to Second Year, but the rest would have been happy to have the ground swallow us up.
There was some compensation in being allowed out for a weekend camp somewhere along the Great Ocean Road. This was primarily an excuse to get seriously pissed, and I still have an aversion to Sparkling Burgundy.
The oh-so-jolly final parade on the day before Graduation was supposed to be a hoot: First Year were to command the parade. We didn't know that there'd be a lot of mucking up and that we'd be scragged by the senior cadets. It was particularly obnoxious for me because some bastard thought it would be funny to put some deodorant blocks in my undies. Painful!
Anyway, the year came to an end, NODBAL became 0 and everyone else departed. I was aching to get away (in my shame) but the paperwork took a few extra days to be completed. Then I went home.
Apart from Leigh Ferguson (whom I've mentioned above), two of the cadets in my Course died in aircraft accidents: Herbie Badower in a Canberra (Amberley, 1970) and Graham Thomas in a Caribou (PNG, 1972). Like Leigh, they were good blokes and I regret their passing.
I've seen a few people from the Academy since I left.
On their trip north in 1966, I picked up some of 18 Course from Amberley and took them to a party in Brisbane.
I worked with Col Westmore at the ES&A Bank in Melbourne in 1967.
I ran into Brian Phillips at a train station in Sydney in 1968.
I met John Millhouse in a pub in Canberra in the late 1960s and he invited me to his wedding, where I also met Dick Hookey. I remained in touch with John and his wife Stephanie for many years.
I saw a few of the ex-cadets around that time at an Open Day at RAAF Fairbairn.
I once met Bill Evans in the Dining Room of the Canberra Club.
I almost met Brian Weston (16 Course) one time in Canberra. I'd been asked to deliver a sailing trophy to him, but he wasn't home so I left it by his back door.
Terry O'Brian was an executive with an IT company selling into the library market in the 1980s.
Al Pearson (15 Course) was working in the Commonwealth Department of Finance in the 1990s.
Over the years, in Canberra shopping centres I've run into or walked past Al Reed, Al Titheridge and Brendan O'Loghlin.
And a couple of the team have been more or less famous in the media: Bruce Mouatt did daring things in his F/A-18 over major sporting events for a few years and Al Titheridge gained some attention in the Kids Overboard affair.
1. Mike Herbert served in Vietnam and was posted as missing on a mission in 1970. His remains were found (along with those of his navigator) in 2009 and returned to Australia.
2. It's been pointed out that there were reasons why the members of 16 Course treated us as they did. So be it. But our relations with them were worse than with the others. And I respect them very much for their achievements.
It was a long time ago and I'm bound to have remembered wrong at some point.
I'd be delighted if anyone can correct or add to anything I've written about that year - which has many fond memories for me. Thank you to the couple of people who've written already to gently correct my dubious memories.