Peter OHanlon - World War Bloody Timor

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

At 18 Peter followed in his familys footsteps and joined the Army. He was the first in his long family linage to join the Infantry. His service spanned 11 years with three deployments to East Timor. In 2008 he was medically discharged due to post traumatic stress disorder. He suffered anxiety and severe depression for many years.

Then one day stepping onto a film set Peter found his calling, to becoming an actor. He now has a list of film credits and news programs under his belt some of which include: Occupation, Occupation Rainfall, Dora and the lost city of gold, Kong vs Godzilla, Strangeville and Escape and evasion. Peter is also employed with Extra Specialist out of Brisbane as a weapons and military specialist instructor for actors and the TV movie industry.

BEAUTIFUL
BROKEN MAN

I wish this man away.

He doesnt understand or want to play.

How could he or why should he?

Be open to that way.

I wish he understood those dreams.

I wish the darkness would become clean.

I wish he understood these tears.

I wish he would accept these fears.

I sit under this waterfall vulnerable but strong.

I call you over hopeful but no one.

I call to you empower this beast.

I miss you underneath this waterfall of peace.

I have lost my voice.

My words disappear the battles have won.

I have now laid down my gun.

The thrill of the cold the excitement of the adventure

The water is power it tells a story of adventure.

It reads a thousand words that cannot be spoken.

I stand there with all of me that is broken

Beautiful broken men

The father the brother the son the warrior of none

But the who to one.

Peter Irish OHanlon

SO, YOU WANT TO BE A SOLDIER

Whats your fucking name?! the Section Commander has just screamed, pointing his menacing finger in my direction. Ive just exited the bus depositing me at my new battalion in Townsville in tropical north Queensland. Its around 0930 on 02 Feb 1998 and Ive just completed my 7 months training at Kapooka and the School of Infantry or what we in the military call Singo due to its location in Singleton NSW. So far, I have found this both challenging and exciting, in its own way. Ive made some good mates, since enlisting, and I feel like they have my back.

On our earlier training at the School of Infantry (SOI) I found myself in a fighting pit, talking to a soldier named Mark Knight. At the time, I would have called Mark one of my closest mates. We discussed life, politics, our childhoods, where we grew up and what we wanted out of the Army. And we solemnly vowed we were going to look out for each other, if we were ever called up to fight in a strange country. Mark had a noticeable stutter, and he would tell a joke, with his broken words bumping and tumbling into each other. And no one, including himself, could help but be left in stitches at his verbal efforts. It goes to show you how mysterious life can be. We were thick as thieves, together in our shared reality back then.

But a few years ago, I spotted his picture on the cover of a newspaper. It was at the head of an article announcing he was now a wanted member of the Taliban. They were not even sure if he was dead or alive, but presumed dead, killed by a US missile strike into some caves he was apparently bunkered down in. I could just imagine those moments prior, Mark probably had his Taliban mates in stitches, laughing at his jokes and stutters, as he ordered them around. Having no idea what was looming above. I keep the paper clipping, as homage to the days when we were both just young and excited about life. Poor bugger! My former great ally and friend becoming a wanted man and a cultural outcast, to boot. Who would have imagined what different paths we would take?

The SOI was a very surreal and interesting place to be, back in the mid to late 90s. I have so many stories, so many faces flash back into my mind, as I write about my time there with Mark and my other Platoon mates. Ill mention three of these stories. One is about the environment you had to survive, to be accepted. Another is why it is such a surreal place to be and to train, when you are a young man beginning your career. The last will be how the times have changed.

Trent Martin, my section commander at the time of my initial employment training, was one of my first real leaders of my military career, another guy I really admire, to this day. One day, he got us all together for a bonding task. There were about ten guys formed around a pit of mud, and one by one, we would get in and fight it out, recruit vs recruit, punching the shit out of each other. No gloves, mouth guards or headgear. Of course, there were some rules, this is not Mortal Kombat, but they went by the wayside quickly. I did well, but its not easy punching on, when your legs are stuck in mud, and you cannot see, as your head is shoved deep into the mud, only to then throw a punch half blind. Trent had this system, to quietly let you know, every day, how you were going, during your training. Outside the barracks was a group photo of the section and there would be black marks over your name, gradually ending in your picture being crossed out, if you did not keep up. Mark and I had the most, three lines, one more and we were gone. I used to feel angry, but also driven. Trent was a great soldier and dedicated leader. He once asked me on patrol, Why are you walking around the bushes? You need to walk through them. A very basic piece of advice, but a big lesson in understanding how to change my thinking, from a civilian mentality to a soldiers mentality.

See, your mind must change once youre in the military. You cant think the same as you do in the civilian world. If we walk around the bush, were not covered or concealed. It makes sense now, but at the time Im thinking, Ill walk around. Its the path of least resistance, the easy way, the less uncomfortable. Another instance was the first time I was in a platoon harbour and Trent, or Corporal Martin at the time, was seething. Telling me to face out. I had no idea what he meant. He had to forcibly grab me and push my head to look out. Like a stupid dog, who had no idea why he was being disciplined, even as I sat there, looking out, eating my tin of baked beans, thinking Why the hell am I looking at the bushes now and not in towards my mates?

It all makes sense now. I need to face out, in preparation for the enemy, in case of attack. Be ready, always. But back then, no idea. And Trent having to physically force me is another military issued mindset, its a trained soldier passing on lessons, as Im sure Trent was trained and those who trained his instructors and on and on. At this level, he is highly trained, compared to me. He understands that me facing inwards leaves a gap in his security, it makes us all vulnerable to attack. He is thinking about life and death and where are we not secure? He needs me to face out, so that we are all secure. We are not training for a footy game, nor are we training to make some sales or maybe working on a building site. What Trent is telling me is, if I dont face out there and watch the creek line or the low ground when Im overseas on operations, Im a risk to him, myself and other soldiers, so I need to learn this very quickly. I learnt I would need to secure my objectives. Therefore, his method of instruction was successful. The military turns its headlights off at night, so the enemy cannot see its approach and on, during the day, so we stand out in a convoy for the public. This is the change in thinking you must make, to even begin to have a solid career.