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4..... Bastardisation at JRTE?
bas·tard·ise
(bàs¹ter-d́se´) verb, transitive bas·tard·ised, bas·tard·is·ing,
bas·tard·is·es To lower in quality or character; debase. — bas´tard·i·sa¹tion
(-ter-dî-zâ¹shen) noun
The
JRTE was not unique in this regard and many military establishments
in the past have come under close scrutiny for allegations of bastardisation.
Our own, elite, Military College, Duntroon, in Australia has on more
than one occasion been investigated.
It
is probably a part of many military organisations and will more than
likely remain as long as military training establishments exist. Although
the degrees of it are and will be, rightly, scaled down in this age
of litigation and accountability. I do not and have never condoned
Bullying or criminal acts but lesser forms of what some may call 'bastardisation'
will possibly always be present.
Sometime
late in 1971 the Government held an enquiry into the Conduct of JRTE,
it was headed by Judge Rapke. What the outcomes and findings were
I do not know for I was already gone and was just relieved that I
had come through, at least physically unscarred, some called it bastardisation,
those of us who went eagerly out into the fleet and beyond called
it 'Character Building'.
I
can't remember with too much detail the many acts of bastardry that
we inflicted upon each other on a day to day basis at JRTE, perhaps
psychologically my brain refuses to recall some of the more traumatic
events. But I do know that at times it was exhaustive to the point
of collapse and that there were periods where an individual or group
would live in abject terror.
Forms
of everyday commonly accepted bastardisation included being ordered
or forced to spit polish someone's boots, iron his clothes, clean
his webbing, scrub his cubicle, make his bunk and other personal domestic
chores. Being made to carry out excessive and physically demanding
tasks. Public verbal attacks and belittling of ones physical appearance,
mannerisms, character or parentage. Being intimidated and humiliated
by being forced to perform publicly i.e. sing, recite poetry etc.
whilst being pelted with refuse. The 'srubbing' of grubs.
Some
of the more frightful and degrading forms could be, being forced to
lick a urinal clean in the heads or licking someone's boots clean,
or just being 'filled in' for the pleasure of it. These excesses were,
thankfully, rare but did indeed go on. These acts of terrorism were
carried out by small groups of 'Bullies' and were not condoned by
the mainstream.These individuals would have been Bullies no matter
what vocation they chose in life. On a positive note the one thing
the navy did was not to let them get away with it for long for it
was unacceptable practice in all the ships in which I served and these
blokes got their dues should they persist once in the 'Fleet'.
Thankfully
and I am pleased to say that my Division, Morrow division, whilst
always in trouble for good-natured larks, did not have a core of these
human trash and standover merchants that all were in fear of but we
did suffer at the hands of some. Some victims of this extreme anti
social behavior suffered badly and I have witnessed personally some
of the less stronger willed sob themselves to sleep at night curled
up in the fetal position in their bunks. Our weapon against this was
the support of our mates. One had to have mates, respect and loyalty
for one another and self respect plus one had to be a team player
to survive mentally as well as physically. To allow yourself to be
stripped of your self respect or self esteem would put you on the
downhill slide and at times it tested the strength of your characters
to its limits.
There
were at times during our stay where word would filter down to our
block, that some 'Mouth/s' from the Division had been disrespectful
to a notorious member/s of a Senior Intake or had been the cause,
rightly or wrongly, of his being caught by authorities for an indiscretion.
The consequences were that you could expect to be 'raided' that or
some other night. In darkness they would stealthily enter the block
and 'Fill In' JRs in their bunks.
No
names here for they are irrelevant today. One particular group of
these bastards was at last exposed when they broke into the Ship's
Company Canteen one night and robbed it. They were caught with only
a couple of weeks to go before they were due to 'Pass Out'. The Navy
wasted little time in getting rid of them and discharged them (dishonourably)
almost immediately. No one was sorry to see them go and for many it
was an enormous relief. Many in our Division had been harassed by
this group, including me. One
night in the recreation room they had even stabbed one of our own
Division's LJRs, puncturing his lung. Some did say that he deserved
it though for being such a power crazy and hard to get along with
mongrel.
Discharges
did not come easily and unless you committed a very nasty crime, for
which you may be discharged 'dishonourably', there was generally no
way out. You signed the dotted line for the minimum and mandatory
enlistment period of 12 years and that was that. The idea of 'I don't
like it here anymore' was never seriously entertained and would only
cause you more harassment. It would be easier to get paroled from
a life prison sentence. Desertion was out of the question for it was
pretty hard to sneak across the Nullabor Plain unnoticed. If you did
manage to 'escape' a Warrant would be issued Australia wide for your
arrest. You would eventually be hunted down by the Naval Police who
would be busy 'Staking Out' your parents, grandparents, girlfriends
home or any other abode or establishment you may be known to frequent.
They would catch you, return you and punish you.
Running
The Gauntlet
Not
long after arriving we witnessed our first Gauntlet, the senior JR
Intake, Stevenson Division, decided that since as they were now Top
Shit and there were only 100 of them it was time to teach the next
lowest intake below them, the 200 strong Shit, a lesson. Stevenson
Division (Stevo) were accommodated on the deck below us (ground floor)
and we as a lower intake were forcibly made to witness the brutality
and humiliation of the event.
Raiding
parties made up of the more brutal thugs of Stevo Division scattered
to find members of the targeted intake and bring them forcibly and
sometimes bound, to the entrance of their block. Once there they would
be made to run the length of the dormitory to the relative safety
of the fire escape door at the other end, a distance of 30 or 40 meters
down a narrow passageway. Simple enough, but lined along the passage
were JR's with all types of hand held weapons, hockey sticks, pillow
cases with boots inside, broom handles, cricket bats, etc. The trick
was to stay on your feet, cover your head and face, and blindly keep
going. To go down could have disastrous consequences. Most made it
out with minor cuts and bruising, some however, the more well known
and disliked, suffered fairly worse injuries, broken noses, arms,
collar bones, teeth etc. It wasn't until an unexpected and sudden
increase in traffic to the sick bay that alerted staff to the events
taking place on the bottom deck of C Block before it was stopped.
The
entire 86 JRs of Stevenson Division were, on parade the next morning,
'Offed Caps' in front of all the JRTE whereupon the Commodore read
their punishment, they, en masse, received the maximum award punishment
without having a 'Warrant' read. 14 days Number 9's, 30 Days Stoppage
Of Leave, $10.00 Fine plus stoppage of pay and a few other minor things
thrown in. So the entire 86 of them made the defaulters line fairly
long for the next month or so. We on the other hand who were forced
to witness the carnage were promised 'pay back' by the unfortunates
for just for having been there, and look out if you had been seen
smiling or laughing.
The
Naval Hierarchy did not in any way condone Bastardisation as one can
see by this type of punishment. Everyone knew it existed for everyone
had suffered it at some stage. Some ranked in lower levels, however,
were drunk with sadistic power. Although, the worst enemy of JRs at
Leeuwin was, unfortunately, the boys themselves. Promoting competition
and rivalry is great when training military people but it does have
its dark side.
One
In - All In
The
everyday Naval way of punishing JRs summarily was that the whole group
would suffer for the indiscretions of an individual or for the more
sadistic instructor exactly the opposite, he would punish the class
whilst excluding the offender. If we had an habitual offender within
our class then some instructors would warn us that unless we took
matters in to our own hands the class would continue to suffer. For
one classmate's failure to consistently comprehend the task or inability
to physically or mentally carry out the order. In effect we would
be told to 'fill him in' and make him 'wake up to himself!'. Some
thugs did take this opportunity to carry out 'legal' beatings, most
did not. PT and Gunnery classes could be notorious for this form of
'dogwatch instruction'. If any have seen the movie 'A Few Good Men'
then a milder and less authorative JR equivalent of a 'Code Red' did
certainly exist, the idea being to frighten him out of his wits and
maybe a thick ear to go along with, of course not do do serious harm
and certainly not to kill him.
JRs
whose antics continued to cause grief, or embarrassment for their
class, division or intake would be certainly 'worded in' by their
peers -" cease or be 'filled in!'"
Filling
a bloke in was more preferable to dobbing someone in. No one liked
Naval Regulators, Naval Police, Masters Art Arms or Coxswains, collectively
known as crushers. So you didn't give each other up to the law, instead
you would administer your own code of 'messdeck justice'. Unless of
course he was a thief then he would be filled in, maybe have some
fingers broken also, then given up to the crushers.
Personalized
Bastardisation
During
my early days I became the target, every morning on the parade ground,
and in the Dining Hall, for one JR Mace. Now I wasn't the smallest
JR at Leeuwin, just touching 5 feet and weighing in wringing wet at
112 pounds but I was indeed not the largest. So JR Mace, from a more
senior intake and about the same size as me, singled me out as his
daily victim and with the solid support of his band of 4 or 5 other
larger mates embarked on a mission to make my life intolerable. Intimidation,
violence, verbal abuse, deliberately soiling or disheveling my uniform
so as to invite punishment, psychological abuse, well, I had grown
up with an older brother, sort of been there done that. But it was
making my life a misery.
But
then there was sport, the great leveler.
Up
until now my problems with JR Mace had been insolvable I had unwritten
laws to abide by and since I could not hope to defeat so many of his
mates who were constantly with him they exploited their moral ascendancy
to the maximum, at my expense.
One
day after classes I returned to the blocks to read the main notice
board about the up coming, bi annual, Inter-Divisional Boxing Tournament,
fancied myself a bit, and whacked my name down.
Some
days later when reading the draw for the tournament I was ecstatic.
Someone 'up there' was looking after me for I saw that for my first
bout I had drawn JR Mace. I was also apprehensive for I couldn't afford
to lose. My life would become more of a misery.
Over
the next few weeks every JR would train in the pugilistic arts. The
(Nightly) Boxing Tournaments were high on the social calendar at JRTE
and victory in them guaranteed some respect from unexpected quarters.
The bouts were fought according to Australian Amateur Boxing Rules
and were the two Gala Events of the year.
Standing in our corners, arms outstretched along the top rope, facing
each other the bell rings for the first round and I sprint from my
corner to Maces' in an instant, catching him cramped in his corner,
surprised, and off balance, my first left lands firmly on his nose,
it immediately blossoms and swells spraying bright red blood. The
sight of the blood and him desperately trying to cover up tells me
that this is my chance and I continue to punish him in a frenzy of
punches until the referee finally tears him away from me, bundles
him out of the ring and declares me the winner by TKO.. I am covered
in his blood, totally exhausted, and elated. That period of less than
30 seconds of my life, was to make my mornings no less busy but a
lot less stressful. He was to stay well clear of me after that and
even copped ridicule from his 'tough guy' mates. I continued on my
winning way and was beaten on points in the Flyweight final.
Others
in similar situations solved their problems with a tormentor in the
boxing ring or on another type of playing arena.
JRs
who could, not necessarily excel, but hold their own, bravely, on
a sports field were generally treated with respect from all, although
this is not uniquely a naval attitude but a civilian one in Australian
society too. In effect it really helped if you were good at something,
be it Academics, tying knots or cap tallies, spit polishing boots,
football, sailors folk art, being good at something meant that you
had self-worth, you were respected and needed. A few of us were good
at less noble pursuits, more about that later.
Other
extreme forms of bastardry included aggravated robbery
Not
many members of a Senior Intake would engage in this practice, however
some of the more unscrupulous and less 'ethical' did. It was permitted
to go on for it was also an unwritten law that you did not interfere
with another of your intake when he was bastardising a member of a
Junior Intake. That was a no-no, however embarrassed or ashamed of
it you may feel. You could have a word in private if you knew the
bloke but never question him publicly.
This
practice is where members of the Senior Intake stand outside the canteen
taking money by threat of violence from Junior Intake JRs as they
leave the canteen. Ethics of the day were no taking of banknotes but
all loose change in your pockets was fair game. On a wage of $10.00
per fortnight one could ill afford to leave the canteen with one dollar
in coins in one's pocket. Sometimes if a member of the ship's company
was there you could leave when he did walking close to him whilst
under the resentful gaze of the 'muggers'. Or the best way was simply
not to have any change at all.
Of
course Cigarettes were fair game and it was sometimes a brave JR that
refused to give a Senior Intake JR a smoke when he demanded it. At
the very least you were destined to spend your life at the end of
the 'Scan Line' (dinner queue).
Senior
Intake members after having eaten their dinner would then loiter at
the head tables in the dining hall, having shifted the majority of
condiments, butter, jam, vegemite and the like to their table and/or
commandeering the tea urn. They were then free to sit back and pick
and choose who they would harass and keep moving to the back of the
line, all the time the selected victims are being pushed, shoved,
intimidated and verbally abused. Once you were finally permitted to
get what remained of dinner it was then up to you whether you needed
things like salt, pepper, butter or a cup of tea for that would all
be in the possession of one of the senior intakes. One had to grovel
and perhaps part with a cigarette or a promise to spit polish or lick
his boots, to get the required item.
One
had to be careful how one addressed people for being labeled a 'mouth'
was a pretty grave situation. There were various forms of 'mouths'
but if you were a 'smart arsed mouth' it was only a matter of time
until someone rearranged your face for you.
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