Randall Jones

From the past:

"We 'pissed off quickly' leaving the severed head on an ants nest beside the road to be collected later... "

2004

Living in West Pymble over the school year’s I attended Gordon West primary then on to ABHS, playing soccer with the likes of John Jephcott, Peter Verrills, Trevor Remington, John Dawes, and Bruce Morgan’s, around the corner from Gareth Cole and up the hill from Adrian Loosjes about 200m from Greg Baxter and Neville Wray and 5Mins walk from Bernie Newlands, Dave Wilson’s and Graham Jones’s house. Timothy Herbert lived up the Hill and Chris Moran was not far from him, half the bloody school lived in West Pymble didn’t they?

I don’t believe survival skills were ever taught but it took some serious good luck to get through those early years, and some associations were far more hazardous than others.

Seeing that the topic of Jackie W was brought into this forum, I will briefly add a recollection or two, Jackie had some unusual nicknames amongst the boys who rode the West Pymble bus and over time earned the reputation of the ‘siren of the back seat’. Others were involved beside Jackie too. It was a very long bus ride from Gordon station to the last stop on Ryde Road where she got off, during the trip the back seat was always full and Jackie was generally on it somewhere or on some ones lap. Maybe we could have a show of hands at the reunion from The Old Boys Of West Pymble for a more in depth and meaningful discussion, or perhaps money could change hands to keep the topic off the agenda.

I frequented Billy SLSC with some others from school, rowed the boat, caught some waves, speared some fish, drank some beer at the Newport Arms and ….memory lapse....with the girls, we generally had a good time.

On leaving school I worked with a steel reinforcement manufacturer as a trainee, it seemed to be the go, attending Ultimo Tech College to do the building certificate, studying structures and survey. The engineering industry was not really very riveting at my level and I took opportunity to get off to see the country whenever an opportunity arose.

Unable to afford cars, both Timothy Herbert and I purchased 250cc BSA Gold star motorbikes, both shining examples of British technology and we rode them to destruction. From Perisher in the snow season to Lightening Ridge fossicking down shafts at the nine mile, up to Cape York before the road was sealed, over to WA and finally around Aust in 1977. On the trip to Cairns Tim hit a Brahman cow and a kangaroo on the same day outside a town called Sarina. He seriously rearranged the steering but managed to continue although he had a limp and considerable gravel rash to mark the spot. My bike days ended some time later, I hit a car head on at Woolstonecraft and was hospitalized with a fractured skull and legs. I was lucky to walk away.

Volunteered for National Service, when we were required to register for the call-up, I was foolishly seeking more than a career in life. Received the notice in 67 and promptly took off with Timothy Charles on a round Aust trip. This meandering turned into quite a saga as you may well imagine, with Tim and myself, never being far from a spot of bother. We travelled south through Adelaide to WA and up the West Coast carrying a couple of rifles and limited gear. Our aim was to go buffalo and crock shooting and we talked ourselves into some stupid things. With limited resources we worked in mining camps in Meekathara and Bell for a spell before proceeding to Derby, Broome, Cunnanurra and on to Darwin, eating the barest of rations ranging from duck caught in city parks with fishing line, hook and bread, to Top-notch pigeon peppered with shotgun pellets and cremated to perfection on a Gal Iron hotplate on the side of the road. Note: (Pigeon sticks like f..k to hot gal Iron and it is frigging hard to get it off with fingers without burning them). Tip:(don’t eat pigeon a’la pellet served on gal iron, tastes shithouse).

I’m sure the revered headmaster and his deputy would have been proud of his boys. Standing on the plains of Oenpelli in 67 were two turkeys, both from ABHS, on foot and armed to the teeth with a 310 Martini Henry, breech loading single shot, first world war relic, and a pump-action Mossberg 12 gauge with a fist full of Brenekie solids.

The buffalo hunters from Hell had arrived, and as we moved closer to the friggin things they would move further away. We had a problem, so we borrowed (an acceptable term in front of grandkids ) a Massey Fergusson tractor and took off across the plains Tim driving and me in the scoop with the guns, shot quite a big a bull as he just stood his ground in front of the tractor, with a solid round from the shotgun (they hit with a force of around 1and a ½ tons per sq inch), the 310 Martini Henry rounds bounced off. We had to cut the head off with hand knives (that was no mean task) as the horns wouldn’t slip off conveniently, then trouble began as the tide was rising, we had bogged the tractor as we crossed a tidal stream. In an attempt to cover our deeds we went back to the bridge site and this time, ’borrowed’ the D9 dozer to pull the tractor from the mud (both implements were left at a bridge construction site on the Adelaide river over the Christmas period and Tim had learn’t to start and drive these things whilst Jackarooing in Adelaide) We succeeded in sinking that to it’s belly beside the Tractor some way off the road.

We ‘pissed off quickly’ leaving the severed head on an ants nest beside the road to be collected later, then went on to the Adelaide River Hotel and met up with a German crock shooter in the days when skins were valuable and crocks were scarce, we stayed for a while learning the skills of trapping with steel shark hooks and rotting flying fox and shooting, before returning home flat broke with nothing but a stinking pair of Buffalo horns some crock teeth and snaps from a battered brownie box camera.

Haven’t seen Tim now for many years but I’ll bet he’s still just keeping ahead of that truckload of shit that was following every time I was with him.

As soon as I arrived home I was off into the Army, basic training at Kapooka, Corps training at the school of Artillery at North Head. Gunnery skills came first and then on to be trained in the use of ‘Wild T2’ theodolites and Tellurometers (distance measuring devices) we were taught to provide global fix ‘on the run’ by way of Sun and/or Star observation, In the good old days before calculators and computers.

Survey was essential to Howitzers in the field, as plus or minus 100m on grid was enough to cause damage to our own troops, that is known to have happened on occasion (isn’t it Garry?). We weren’t called drop shorts for no reason. Even experienced map readers have difficulty pinpointing position in the scrub. It was bad enough for forward observers to be out, without a compounded error at the guns.

Off to Kanungra Qld in Nov 68 for bastardization and bush bashing skills, then off to scenic Vung Tau by Herc from Richmond transferring to Caribou for the short leg to Nui Dat, Attached to 131 Divisional Locating Battery for all of 69, it was both exciting and hectic, generally choppered in and out of places, and when on the ground we were protected by SAS or otherwise within fire support bases around the countryside. Beside the commitment of establishing gun positions we were required to provide survey for the terrain surrounding the province of Phuc-ty, with American and ARVN forces from time to time, it was essential that these bases be on the same grid in case of the possible calling for air support from B52’S, Phantom’s or our own guns.

I didn’t see Gary or Lee in country in 69, but I did come across that “dirt farmer” from Galston, Ian Nichols. We were going in different directions at the time and didn’t get time to catch up though. As coincidence would have it one of the surveyors I spent time with was posted as headmaster of Asquith BHS in the late 70’s, Michael Quinlan. He moved on and remains headmaster of James Ruse Agricultural college today.

Returned to Sydney in Dec 69, showered with eggs, tomatoes and verbal abuse. I had no understanding of the contempt displayed and was taken back by it all. They were hard days to come to grips with, aged 21, and out of circulation with the general public for two years, living with a different set of rules, some of the blokes had lived totally obscene existences from the tunnel rats, the Grunts, mine defuses and the chopper pilots, each soldier had his own private world to contend with. Some were much more difficult than others. The homecoming reception caused many of these young blokes to isolate themselves on return. It didn’t lead to an easy settling in for us and I believe it was the cause of many to not get on with their lives.

All said and done I wouldn’t have missed the experience. I met and worked with committed competent mates sharing many life experiences from the sublime to the ridiculous which I won’t go into, and those I served with all remain very close today. I got further into, bush walking, canoeing and caving over the following years and continued with the SLSC at Dee Why well into my 30’s

Started back with ARC Engineering on return, but had difficulty settling down to telephones, ties, scale rules and engineering details, and the lack of adrenalin was debilitating, so I moved within the company to Rural Sales Newcastle (at least I was out in the fresh air) and stayed for several years at Merewether.

In the search for dollars, I moved to a marketing position with Fuji Film Brookvale for nine years until the company was taken over, then back into the building Industry with AVJennings for a stint. The recession hit, money was tight, my skills were limited and I needed a substantial income. By this time I had two boys at Kings School and twin girls at Tara, a mortgage, and thinning hair, so I ducked for cover into a food distribution contract with George Weston Foods controlling their product distribution in the Parramatta area, I remained with them until I retired in 2000.

My girls and my eldest boy are married, I am about to be grandfathered for the second time in August, youngest boy is completing his building license and is in and out of home. My wife Jill and I have paddled sea kayaks for the past eight years up and down rivers and along the coast both to amuse ourselves and in attempt to stay fit.

Have recently attained second childhood status (a bit like puberty without the pimples) building two beach buggies, one a low roadster with 944 Porsche rear end, Webbers, camshaft, lightened flywheel and close ratio gearbox etc, the other a more sedate air cooled Volkswagen powered, low geared, off-roader which Jill and I take to Frazer Island, Stockton beach and the other year, in it to the Cape. On the way to Cook Town, I called in to see Graham Jones at Port Douglas and went out for a dive on the Reef from his dive boat Calypso. He has a fantastic lifestyle. I have not contacted him since.

Well that was a bib full.