The International Harvester F1 6X6 truck was as cantankerous as a second hand lawn mower, however, it had a cross county ability that still rivals some of the best off road vehicles in the word today.

Most of these old girls had some type of modification done to them, this one had an Abbey crane on the back and a dart board on the inside of the passenger door, hence all the interest by the onlookers

This unit was even more 'casual' than 4 Base, it had a total strength of 11 counting a technical storeman/clerk and two supply storemen, commanded by a WO2 Artificer Sargent Major (ASM, head trady) and under direct control of the Transport unit. The other two Transport Squadrons, 5 and 9 had an officer and 33 other ranks within their workshops. We always prided ourselves on a greater availability of vehicles (more on the road and less in the workshop) than the other two Squadrons, which had the same amount of vehicles and three times the people to maintain them. We had a reputation on this to keep and keep it we did, but it meant some bloody hard work and long hours at times, hence the casual nature of the way we addressed each other. We were all mates I guess and some 23 years later, I still keep in touch in some small way with most of the blokes that were there at the time. Not one of the blokes there at that time ever talks to Max.

Lyn and I had been living together with her Mum in Albury prior to me leaving 4 Base, and in March (1979) she joined me and we rented a flat in Liverpool. We became engaged in May (it was earlier than that but we didn't get the ring till then) and got married in the December. This entitled us to an Army Married Quarter, Lyn looked forward to moving out of the flat, as comfortable and well appointed as it was, and into a house. Every nightmare story about married quarters came true in this place, it had rough sawn bare wooden floors, no curtains, no garage or shed, hot water in the bathroom only, courtesy of a gas hot water system that needed to be lit manually. I still remember the warning on the side "Failure to turn on water prior to lighting may result in an explosion", all this was a far cry from the flat, which was carpeted throughout, all modern conveniences, including bathroom carpet, bathroom heater, blinds, curtains, a security entry system, lock up garage and a garbage disposal unit. For some reason which escapes me now, we looked forward to moving in, I think it was to do with the withdrawal of the rent subsidy on the flat if we refused.

I had been posted into a 'war establishment' Corporal smallarms fitter's position. War Establishment was normally used so additional members were posted to units during times of high readiness. However, in this case the training of tradesmen after the massive decimation (downsizing hadn't been invented yet) of the Army post Vietnam, had not yet slowed and there was an over abundance of tradesmen and this was one way of distributing them to units. It was when Pete DeRon, the Corporal smallarms fitter was posted and I applied for Higher Duties Allowance that I found out how fickle the Army could be, rather than pay me the additional wages of Corporal, they posted me, to the unallotted list (a holding location for excess personnel) then detached me for duty to 1 trucks, a total paper work exercise that meant I stayed where I was but didn't qualify for HDA. About 10 times I applied through Max to go on a smallarms fitters course, it was knocked back as the unit couldn't spare me to be away for the 8 weeks it took to gain the qualification. I was working as the unit armourer under a waiver from the Task Force Armourer, who had come down and given me a formal assessment and practical test based on the over 6 months I had spent in the armoury at 4 Base. This was only a temporary measure to fill the gap after the qualified armourer was posted. Max could not be swayed, he would not let me go on the course, he had someone that could do the job and saw no reason why I should get a formally qualified to do what I was already doing.

1 Trucks went on exercise on a very regular basis, either as a complete unit, or in strengths ranging from section (five vehicles) to troop (35 trucks and 5 Landrovers. These deployments were always accompanied by a workshop element, sometimes the whole workshop others just a forward repair team (FRT)ranging from one person on a motorcycle to 3-4 of us in several trucks and land rovers. Most of the work for the truckies involved convoy type deployments, the workshop was always tagged on the back of these and would spend most days doing repairs to our ancient charges on the side of the road, sometimes the repairs were completed, sometimes a quick fix was carried out to get the vehicle to the next overnight stop where a permanent repair could be effected. This meant the RAEME guys had to drive just as far as the truckies, work on the breakdowns on route and then when we arrived at our daily destination usually work well into the night to have everything back on the road for an early departure the next morning.

Some of the more memorable things that happened on these were being required to drive an F1 through peak hour traffic in Sydney without a clutch, as we had used all the spares during the deployment. Being handed a very large gear (about 250 mm/10") by a passing motorist, then having to find the truck it came from as the driver was blissfully unaware it had departed. Ken Tocock, one of the mechanics doing a quick fix on a water pump to get the truck going again, only to have it fail again about 500 m (400 yds) down the road and destroy the radiator as well. At least he left a note that said sorry for the guys that had to be called out to do a major repair instead of a minor one.

Somewhere along the line the OC of the Squadron had procured three horse drawn wagons, similar to what the unit had used prior to World War 1. These were on a rural property and enough truckies and trucks were duly dispatched to recover them. As I said earlier, the truckies were not at all interested in anything historical and by the time the wagons were delivered to the unit, they were nothing more than piles of old broken timber and some wagon wheels. They were unloaded at the back of the Q store and eventually everything except the wheels were dumped. Not wanting his find to be totally wasted the OC then decided the wheels would look great as border markers on the unit parade ground. I was tasked with making the appropriate mounting for these 1 and 2 metre diameter spoked timber wheels. No problem, had the 12 stands fabricated and ready to mount the wheels in about a week, the OC came down to the workshop to inspect my progress on an almost daily basis as you do with a pet project. I was about to mount the fifth or sixth wheel, when he said "they don't turn", now I just knew this was going to get worse. The batteries in my crystal ball must have been on the blink that month, as he explained to me it was a transport unit and having wheels that didn't turn were no use to him. Mad Max being his indomitable self tells the OC that he had told me the wheels had to turn and a Craftsman calling a WO2 a bullshit artist in front of a Major, regardless of how pissed off the Craftsman was, just wasn't the done thing if the Craftsman didn't want to spend some time in goal. I bit my tongue, and started to redesign the stands so the bloody wheels would turn. A trip to where the wagons had been unloaded revealed one of the first items to be dumped was of course the original axles. This meant the tapered axles would have to be manufactured from scratch, no problem to a qualified fitter and turner, if he had a lathe, 1 trucks didn't, Max was adamant all the work was to be done within the unit, even though the RAEME elements on both sides of us had lathes capable of doing the job. Several days of oxy acetylene cutting, grinding and filing saw the first couple of axles completed including the attaching hardware. Someone had also worded up the OC on the original specification given to me and during one of his frequent tours when Max couldn't accompany me, he apologised for the extra work and admitted he should have been more specific to start with. This was the first time this had ever happened to me and my regard for this man improved immeasurably. A major repair I carried out to an original 1880's firearm given to him by his Grandfather also put me in good stead with him. Eventually all the wheels where mounted, lubricated and set around the parade ground, we even had a parade to mark the occasion. To the best of my knowledge the only time the wheels were ever rotated in anger was while I was manufacturing the axles and during on of the OC's visits during construction. However, anyone that traveled through Holsworthy Barracks for the next 15 years will remember these wheels near the old post office. During my last trip down there in 2001, the wheels along with what was 1 Transport Squadron were gone, but I was told the wheels are now gracing the entrance to a Headquarters building somewhere nearby.

Probably the funniest thing that happened while I was at one trucks was Max tasked Clay Smith and myself to do a rubbish run for the workshop. We dutifully loaded the Squadron tipper (yet another F1 variant) with all the rubbish bins from the workshop. One even contained my marriage certificate that Max needed a copy of some six months earlier and when questioned where it had gotten to, I was told "I gave it back" and had obviously binned it to save the trouble of admitting he was wrong, he really was an arsehole. Anyway with about 5 ton of rubbish on the truck Clay and I ask Max where it had to go, his reply "out to Lucas Heights", Clay and I depart, me at the wheel and Clay riding shotgun. Now I'm only a country boy but Clay is a local but between the two of us the only thing we know of at Lucas Heights is an atomic reactor. We question each other as to what they would want with our load of rubbish but can't for the life of us work out a plausible reason, must be land fill we agreed on. Picture if you will, two young soldiers fronting up at the front gate of Australia's only Nuclear Reactor and informing the heavily armed guards on the front gate in a bold and confident voice that you have a load of garbage for them. Guard number one approached the cab on my side while guard number two stayed back with one hand on the top of his holster. Guard number one proceeded to question what I had said so I repeated it, this time a little more forcefully and added my boss had told me to come here, his worried look had me a bit off balance, surly this must be an everyday occurrence, it was about this time I saw guard number three and four, one in each side mirror, weapons drawn approaching the vehicle from behind. Now Clay and I might have been a bit naive but not totally stupid and both of us reached the opinion we were definitely in the wrong place about that instant. As guards five through to about ten appeared in the shadows just the other side of the gate, all carrying long arms. I quickly explained how my boss had told me to take the load to Lucas Heights and this was the only thing that I knew was here, he relaxed a little and told me that I was probably looking for the land fill site another kilometre down the road. At that time I couldn't agree more and started to reverse away from the gate, unfortunately the stop sign in the centre of the road was, and guards 3 & 4 where almost run over during this manouvre as I had trouble concentrating on driving with so many drawn weapons at the ready and me as the intended target. Funny as all buggery now but at the time it was very scary and I don't think Clay has ever forgiven me for it.

It was during Exercise 'Dusty Desert' at Cobar in the western part of NSW, well named until we had 250 mm (10") of rain overnight , I found the Army had aircraft, helicopters in fact, and lots of them. There was a Squadron just up the road from 1 trucks back at Holsworthy, in the whole 18 months I was there the only time I ever saw their aircraft was at Cobar and when I went up to 161 Recce Squadron to find out how to become an aircraft fitter.

It was almost like the stories you hear about the diggers changing over to aircraft during WW1 to get out of the trenches and the mud. Picture if you will three rather dejected gentlemen, myself, Clay Smith and Andy Koolmiester, sitting under a camouflage net in the middle of no-where consoling ourselves. We had been working in ankle deep red mud, through the night (the night the rain came) till 4 in the morning replacing the gearbox in a truck that blew the engine up just 10 minutes after it was given back to the driver, on top of being told our five days off between a 6 week exercise and a 5 week exercise were to be spent in location somewhere near Cobar, instead of at home. We were waiting for the billy to boil so we could have a moral boosting shave (apparently this and polishing your boots are supposed to make you happy) and at least get some of the red crap off, not a clean set of clothes between us they were either crusted in red dust and 4 weeks sweat and scarcely enough water to wash ourselves let alone our clothes. 250 mm of rain and we had a water shortage, hey it's the Army. Into our area walks an unknown Corporal, clean, very clean, no mud or dust on him at all, jungle greens are suspiciously clean and lightly pressed, asks if we can spare some OMD 110 (the NATO code for normal car/truck engine oil), Andy asks how much does he want as we have it in both 20 litre (5 Gal) and 205 litre (44 Gal) drums. Unidentified Corporal, later in my career identified as Lindsay Caplick, pulls out a small glass jar from his pocket and states he only requires this much (about 250 ml). I enquire as to what he is going to do with such as piss ant (miniscule) amount of oil, he replies "top up the rotor head on one of his helicopters". I asked him if he was in the Airforce, he told me that I should combine sex and travel (go and get fu$%*d), he was a RAEME bloke just like us. We chat while the oil is dispensed, he invites the three of us over to have a look at the unit and aircraft and says he should be able to organise a flight for us. This is all met with great excitement, at least on my behalf. We just can't drive over there however and we need to seek permission from the ASM, Max "Bull" Simmons. In Max's usual manner of taking charge of every situation, which was not always a good thing he and the vehicle sergeant drive over to 161. They return a couple of hours later and tell us that some of our tools are visible from the air through the cam net and we need to be more careful about concealment. So instead of a social call to another unit and a chopper ride, we get a boot in the arse. After many of these such incidents, I am looking to get away from Max and his childish behavior and changing to an aircraft fitter becomes another possibility.

Then without any prompting from me Max had me sent on a small arms fitters course, I couldn't believe it, he had a change of heart and perhaps my opinion of him required some adjustment. It wasn't till I was doing the admin to leave the unit on the course that I found out why, a signal had arrived in the unit requesting interested members from the 30^th and 31^st intakes of fitters and turners, who had not successfully completed a small arms fitters course to apply for an aircraft fitter course. Max had seen this and sent me on the smallarms fitters course instead, the only reason was to thwart my attempt to become an aircraft fitter. I duly modified my opinion of the man. Protesting directly to the OC, I was told to attend the course and he would see what he could do. With only a week to go before attending the smallarms course the OC called me into his office and told me I had better pass the aircraft fitters course he had arranged for me or my time back at the workshop was going to be hell working for 'the current management' as he put it. True to his word he had arranged for me to get off the smallarms course and attend the aircraft fitters course within a fortnight. Yee Haa!!

Contrary to what you may think, the people at 1 trucks were a good bunch of blokes to work with and apart from Mad Max also a good bunch to work for, there was always a practical joke to be played or be caught out by and arriving at work and unlocking the toolbox often revealed hinges welded solid, a tool box that couldn't be moved because it welded to the steel work benches or a grease nipple in the side of the box and all the spare space on the inside filled with grease. One particular joker "Gus" Gutheridge, was cured of his obsession when he had to chisel all his tools out of a solid lump of resin to show them to Max for one of his snap tool checks. And then again not too long after, having to wait for the grease that had been pumped out of a 205 litre drum from the servicing truck into his one piece overalls to melt before he could lift the weight and get out up off the middle of the workshop compound.

Lyn and I were on the receiving end of one of the better ones, somewhere along the line I had been identified to be attached to a proposed United Nations force to be sent to Ethiopia. All the vehicles were painted white, covered and seemingly forgotten. This set the stage for an almost disarsterous practical joke. At our wedding reception, two Military Policeman arrived with an official looking letter and I was required to accompany them back to the base immediatly for deployment overseas the next day, it was only the raucous laughter of the organisers of this rouse that gave it away at the last moment. Once Lyn had come down from her near hysterical state and finished crying I found out I had married a woman with one of the best left hooks in the business. These were handed out to anyone that looked even the slightest bit guilty. Max's wife Lyn, a lovely lady who treated all of us like sons, then calmed her down and we got on with the party. The UN force was named UNTAG, and after almost a decade of delays was eventualy deployed, however in that time no one I knew could remember what the acronym UNTAG stood for and it was replaced amongst us with Unlikely Never To Actually Go. It had taken so long, that none of the vehicles that were originally painted white were still in service and I had long left 1 Task Force and therefore was not considered for this trip.