The Spirit of the Digger

by Patrick Lindsay

  Private Z saw widespread evidence confirming that this greater sophistication on the part of their enemy considerably increased the stress levels on the patrolling troops:

  On a mission at night, walking through some valley or on some hillside, and the guy in front of you with the minelab [a detection device] has a ‘find’. The fucking thing bleeps and everyone just freezes like God hit the pause button. No-one moves an inch, and the poor bloke slowly, very slowly, bends down and marks it, then slowly begins to prod in the earth, and everyone’s just trying to think of something else.

  Man, I had a lot or respect for the sappers who did that stuff. That had to be the riskiest thing to do over there. I could never have done it. In the end lots of them got killed, as you’d probably expect. I remember chatting to one of those blokes in the first few days of my tour, before a particular mission, and him telling me how scared he was. I hadn’t even been outside the wire and I’m thinking to myself, ‘Man, what’s this dude’s problem?’ Pretty soon I had the utmost respect for them!

  Most of the IEDs confronting the Diggers in Afghanistan weigh between 20 and 25 kilograms. When you consider that an anti-personnel mine the size of a can of beer will easily blow off a leg, it doesn’t take much imagination to conjure up the damage these evil devices can wreak. For Private Z and his mates, a firefight with the Taliban is preferable:

  After all that, when we were able to actually get to grips with the Taliban and actually bring them to contact it was almost a relief. Most of the times I was on contact I don’t remember being too scared, except for one or two incidents. Most of the time you did your job and just got on with it.

  Even in the hours before jobs that we knew would almost definitely result in things ‘going loud’, as it were, no-one was really worried. Everyone just mucked around and did their thing.

  IEDs can be constructed from agricultural and medical supplies, without any particular technical knowledge. The internet has seen the dissemination of all manner of information on the material and methods of construction of these deadly devices.

  While the reversion to sniffer dogs represents a retrograde step in detection, the Coalition forces are exploring and using new techniques to detect IEDs like ‘change detection’, where high-resolution aerial (or overhead) images are captured by planes (manned and unmanned) or from elevated positions to create thermal images to help identify ‘new’ or environmental changes in an area that could indicate the presence of IEDs.

  A 2006 report to the US Congress by Clay Wilson, from the US Division of Foreign Affairs, Defense and Trade, noted that IEDs caused around half of all American combat casualties in Iraq, both killed in action and wounded. To add insult to injury, the insurgents often video the explosions and post them on the web as a way of attracting new supporters.

  The report also points out that IEDs are indiscriminate: they not only kill soldiers but also hundreds of civilians, particularly when suicide bombers use them in public areas like police stations, mosques and marketplaces.

  The report details some of the methods used to amplify damage caused by IEDs: ‘coupling’ (linking devices together with detonating cord) often causes the mine-detecting vehicle to roll over the initial unfused device, setting off the second one and then consequently the first one, which is usually, by then, under the following vehicle; ‘boosting’ (stacking buried mines or IEDs on top of one another, so that the topmost devices are non-metal and unfused and the deepest one is metal and fused, thus increasing the force of the blast while lessening the chance of detection); ‘daisy chaining’ (linking IEDs along a road with wire or detonating cord so that when the initial device is detonated, the others follow); and ‘shaped charges’ (cylindrical containers, closed off at one end, with the other end formed by a conical piece of metal that becomes a molten projectile when detonated, capable of being so concentrated that it will pierce armour plating and propel the projectile into a vehicle’s cabin). When the Americans increased the quality of their armour plating, the insurgents countered by increasing the power of their IEDs and developing more sophisticated triggers.

  In February 2006 the American Department of Defense responded to the threat by creating the Joint Improvised Explosive Device Defeat Organization (JIEDDO) with the following mission statement:

  JIEDDO leads DoD [Department of Defense] actions to rapidly provide Counter Improvised Explosive Device capabilities in support of the Combatant Commanders and to enable the defeat of the IED as a weapon of strategic influence.

  Under the JIEDDO definition, an IED is: ‘A device placed or fabricated in an improvised manner incorporating destructive, lethal, noxious, pyrotechnic, or incendiary chemicals and designed to destroy, incapacitate, harass, or distract. It may incorporate military stores, but is normally devised from non-military components.’

  By Australian standards, JIEDDO receives astounding amounts of funding. For the 2008 financial year it operated within a budget of about US$4.5 billion. It falls under the ultimate responsibility of the US Deputy Secretary of Defense, through the Director of the JIEDDO (who has delegated authority to approve IED Defeat initiatives up to US$25 million).

  In November 2009 the Americans established an anti-IED task force aimed at figuring out ways to neutralise IEDs. This led to electronic jamming systems mounted on US military vehicles, like ICE (IED Countermeasures Equipment) and Warlock, which use low-powered radio-frequency energy to block the signals of radio-controlled explosive triggers like mobile phones, satellite phones and long-range cordless phones.

  The Americans have been working on an array of technology aimed at long-range detection of IEDs and either disabling them by destroying their circuitry or prematurely detonating them. They have used a range of robotic bomb disposal units, like the Talon, an unmanned ground vehicle (UGV) equipped with a mechanical arm that can pick up and inspect suspicious objects, and the Packbot, a robot that clears bombs and inspects suspected terrorist hideouts. They have also reinforced the more than 10,000 Humvees they have in Iraq with steel plating, but many observers believe the armour is insufficient for its purpose and that overall IED countermeasures were hampered by considerable acquisition delays.

  On 1 December 2009, President Barack Obama incongruously announced he was sending 30,000 additional US troops to Iraq and that his forces would leave Iraq by July 2011. All the while the number of IED explosions increased – by the end of 2009 there were more than 15 explosions a day and over 6000 a year. Taliban fighters have been adapting to the American countermeasures by introducing non-metal versions, digging IEDs deep into the earth and using very long command wires and pull cords instead of electronic triggers.

  It’s difficult to imagine a better representative of the Australian SAS soldier than Trooper Mark Gregor Strang Donaldson, winner of the first Victoria Cross for Australia, so called because in 1991 the VC was included in the Australian honours system. (Up until then, 96 Australians had been awarded the Imperial VC.) As a result of his remarkable bravery under fire in Afghanistan in September 2008, Donaldson became the first to win a VC under the Australian honours system.

  Born in Newcastle in 1979, Mark Donaldson grew up in Dorrigo in northern NSW. He was just 16 when his father, Greg, a Vietnam veteran, died from a heart attack at the age of 47. Four years later his mother, Bernadette, disappeared when embarking on a holiday to the Queensland Gold Coast. She has never been seen again and police believe she was murdered. (Traces of her blood were found in the car of a man she knew, who killed himself by taking a drug overdose some days after she disappeared.)

  Mark and his brother, Brent, (a year older) became Legacy wards after their father’s death and, for some years, Mark ran wild. He had started a graphic design course before his mother disappeared but then dropped out. After travelling around Australia and working in the ski fields, he followed the snow to the USA where he worked as a snow maker at the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City. Later that year he returned to Australia and, aged 23, enlisted in the Au
stralian Army as an infantryman and was posted to 1st Battalion Royal Australian Regiment in Townsville. During his recruit training and later in his infantry training he won prizes for best shot and best in physical training and was named the outstanding soldier in his platoon. In February 2004, Mark passed the tough selection course to join the Special Air Service Regiment (the Australian SAS). He has served with the SAS in East Timor, Afghanistan and Iraq.

  During the night of Friday, 12 August 2008, Trooper Donaldson was wounded during operations in Oruzgan Province in Afghanistan. The wounds were not serious and he recovered quickly. Three weeks later, on Thursday, 2 September, Mark and his SAS fighting patrol, travelling in a combined Afghan, US and Australian convoy, were ambushed by a large force of Taliban insurgents. Well organised, heavily armed and well entrenched, they had set up what is known as a ‘rolling ambush’, where they keep their target under surveillance and an attack is coordinated over a distance of some kilometres.

  The first thing the Coalition convoy knew was that it was under intense machine-gun and rocket-propelled grenade fire. The initial attack caused many casualties, pushed the convoy on the defensive and gave the initiative to the attackers. Donaldson reacted instinctively from the first contact. He rushed from cover to cover, returning fire with anti-tank weapons and his own M4 rifle. He deliberately endangered himself and drew enemy fire so his comrades could recover their wounded and move them to safety.

  To try to break out of the rolling ambush, Donaldson’s convoy had to throw their vehicles around in a series of wild manoeuvres over perhaps four kilometres. By that stage the casualties had taken all the available space in the vehicles, so Donaldson and the other unwounded members were forced to run alongside the vehicles, using them as cover where they could.

  During the movement, one of the Afghan interpreters was blown from a vehicle and inadvertently left behind. Donaldson saw what had happened and immediately ran back, across about 80 metres of exposed ground under withering fire, to rescue the wounded man. He threw him over his shoulder and again ran the gauntlet of fire, back to the vehicles. After giving the interpreter first-aid treatment, Donaldson returned to the firefight.

  Throughout the firefight, Donaldson alternated between returning fire and administering medical aid to other wounded troops. Not only did his actions save the interpreter’s life, they also allowed the convoy to eventually break free of the ambush and reach safety.

  Mark Donaldson was subsequently recommended for the Victoria Cross. His citation concluded:

  Trooper Donaldson’s actions on this day displayed exceptional courage in circumstances of great peril. His actions are of the highest accord and are in keeping with the finest traditions of the Special Operations Command, the Australian Army and the Australian Defence Force.

  Typical of Donaldson’s character was his insistence, on being told of the award, that he be allowed to return to his mates in the field. He requested and received a promise from the Chief of the Army, General Ken Gillespie, that he would not be turned into a ‘PR soldier’ but that he would be permitted to continue his career with the SAS unfettered by the medal. So the first Digger to be awarded the famous medal in almost 40 years was back with his comrades in Afghanistan within months of receiving the award from the Governor-General on 16 January 2009.

  CHAPTER 3

  The Essence of the Digger

  Defining the Digger is a bit like trying to define ‘class’: it’s hard to describe it but you know it when you see it. The Digger is an Australian Everyman, a key piece of the complex jigsaw puzzle that makes up ‘the Australian’. Perhaps it’s even a corner piece of the puzzle.

  Soldiers everywhere reflect, and are only as good as, the community from which they are drawn. It follows that Australians have the essence of the Digger within them. The spirit emerges when the individual calls on it in times of need.

  The image of the Digger is derived from an intricate amalgam of qualities: each has been proven in the heat of battle and has been personified at various times by remarkable members of the tribe. Chief among these qualities are mateship, courage, compassion, endurance, selflessness, loyalty, resourcefulness, devotion, independence, ingenuity, audacity, coolness, larrikinism and humour.

  Mateship is the essential binding force of the Digger and examples of it are legion: from the two Light Horsemen at The Nek at Gallipoli who swapped places with other Diggers in the line so they could charge to their deaths shoulder to shoulder; to ‘Dasher’ Wheatley’s refusal to leave his wounded mate’s side in Vietnam in the face of certain death; through to Mark Donaldson’s charge through a hail of bullets to rescue his mates in Afghanistan.

  The Diggers’ mateship extends beyond comradeship. It develops into a mutual respect and acquires an almost spiritual quality that binds men for life. It enables them to either embrace or to overlook their mates’ foibles and to draw on a seemingly limitless depth of commitment to each other. It helps to form teams with combined strengths far exceeding the sum of those of the members.

  Courage, both physical and moral, is a core element of the Digger. It comes in many forms: from the sustained inspirational bravery of men like Albert Jacka in World War I who, by all accounts, won his VC many times over, to the timeless valour of Bruce Kingsbury who charged into immortality on the Kokoda Track. But most Diggers also recognise the crucial value of moral courage and give it a respect, albeit often underplayed, which surprises many observers.

  When you think of compassion, you think of Diggers like ‘Weary’ Dunlop and his fellow doctors on the Burma–Thailand Railway – Bruce Hunt, Albert Coates, Roy Mills and others – as they tended to their frail mates in unspeakable conditions. You think of the way Diggers across the years have been able to switch without difficulty from the role of the warrior to that of the peacekeeper or the rescuer or the rebuilder of shattered lives in times of disaster.

  Diggers from all wars have drawn on reserves of endurance which enable them to overcome odds that would have defeated lesser soldiers: from the original Anzacs during their eight-month nightmare at Gallipoli to the World War II prisoners of war who endured years of despair and cruelty. From the hellholes of the Western Front in World War I, to the Rats of Tobruk, to the horrors of Sandakan and the Burma Railway, Diggers have endured unimaginable privations to ultimately triumph against all the odds. Men like John Metson, who, shot through both ankles, crawled for two weeks through the New Guinea jungles rather than burden his mates, symbolise the levels of endurance to which the spirit of the Digger can rise.

  The selflessness of men like Simpson with his life-saving donkey on the slopes of Gallipoli through to Charlie McCallum at Isurava, wounded three times, with Bren gun in one hand and Tommy gun in the other, holding off scores of Japanese while his mates escaped, has inspired countless other Diggers to follow their noble leads. From the start, once the Digger left his home shores he committed himself to his quest, as Charles Bean noted of the 1st AIF:

  The fond dream of the return home was silently surrendered by many without a word, or a sign in their letters. The ambitions of civil life had been given up; men’s keenness now was for the AIF – for their regiment, battalion, company – and for the credit of Australia.

  The Digger comes in all shapes and sizes and from all backgrounds and walks of life. He (and now she) has something of the Australian ethos of the volunteer for, historically, most Diggers have not been regular Army soldiers but volunteers for a specific cause. And they have returned without regret to their former civilian lives after their conflicts ended. Even our National Servicemen usually volunteered for service in Vietnam.

  Originally, many Diggers came off the land: practical, self-reliant men accustomed to hardship; skilled horsemen; good shots; good with their hands. But even when, in later years, the vast majority of the Diggers came from the cities, there seemed to be little loss in effectiveness as a force. Wally Thompson, a former Regimental Sergeant Major of the Australian Army (a post established to give Digger
s a direct conduit to the Chief of the Army), has studied the make-up of the Digger and the way it’s changed:

  In the First World War when Bluey rode up from the bush, he could shoot, ride, swear, a great all-rounder. But Bluey was maybe not the bloke I wanted in my section or company or the battalion because he would tend to be an individual. Individuals can be very dangerous. They can shine when it’s necessary but they’ve got to learn to be part of the team. The crucial thing is the team effort. It’s not me, me, me or I, I, I. Everything is in the way you train them. The spirit is there but it’s all in the way you train them.

  Thompson traces the importance of training to augment and direct the Digger spirit back to World War I:

  You can see the difference in the beginning at Gallipoli: it was chaos. And it was the same in the beginning in France and Belgium, particularly in France at Fromelles. It was up-the-guts and it was sheer bravery but ridiculous bravery. A great example was at The Nek in Gallipoli. They knew they were going to die for nothing but they went ahead because they wouldn’t let their mates down.

  But Thompson regards this as bad leadership from the top. It improved later in France in World War I after they adopted the ‘fire and movement’ approach:

  The Germans used it, and the French, and we did. So we didn’t just go straight in, we’d put a gun down and fire and move. In other words we were learning to work as a team. And things like The Nek, where there was no teamwork, could have been Gettysburg or Waterloo.