Personal Essay: The Dismissal by Karen Lethlean

By ​Karen Lethlean

Australia: November, 1975. Governor General  Sir John Kerr was about to sack the Whitlam Labour Government.

My soldier duties weren’t all bad. A big anniversary was being organized. 9th September, 1975, a celebration of Australian signals corps formation some fifty years ago.

The current serving Governor General, Sir John Kerr was scheduled to review a major parade. Through his presence, ceremonial statements were made about the Australian Army and in turn signals corps’ direct connections to British Royal family members. A navigable line through monarch appointed representatives in Australia. 

Set to march in full rig out, formal uniforms with attached braid, bells and whistles, including officer’s swords and RSM (Regimental Sergeant Major) pace sticks. We’d already been warned, ‘Rain or no, this parade will go ahead. Dose yourself up with vitamin C.’ 

Women still trained as recruits, separately from men, through Georges Heights, and to date adhered to a strictly no hands on weapons policy, so Women’s Royal Australian Army Corps (WRAAC) were never part of a twenty-one gun salute nor presented arms on parade.

As one of the tallest WRAAC I was often called upon to be a right marker, my friend known for her outrageous laugh, Priesty, an alternative RSM’s next choice. This role carried huge responsibility and caused me to cringe at alarming visibility factors. I wished to be placed at the other end of a platoon. Hidden among equally tall tail-enders. Not drawing so much attention to myself. 

Serious matters were happening in Canberra, the nation’s capital. Supply, including passing a National budget through both houses of parliament, already blocked, for several weeks. An opposition-controlled Senate wished to depose Whitlam’s government. Therefore funding and available money tightened. Continuation of this political strategy meant limited access to capital. Paying Australian public servants soon to become an issue. Possible to hear clunks echo in empty government cash boxes.   

Military personnel lost any choice. Obedience is a long established, inculcated army trait. In many ways fighting troops are helpless pawns in this sort of political manipulation. Wearing a uniform supposedly stood as a sign of some sort of security. Bearing rising sun insignia, donning slouch hats, or in my case a WRAAC badge ought to grant some authority. Yet troops are ultimately disempowered. Almost considered as a piece of property for the duration of your enlistment. I’d heard about the use of conscripts, young boys sent to Vietnam, for drug trials. Not to mention Agent Orange, and minimal access to support mechanisms designed to prevent ex-serving members from suicide. Present serving members can say and do nothing. Forbidden to protest, or express strong political opinions. 

‘Serving members must remain free from political connections, memberships to political parties, or agitation.’ 

Yes, we voted in elections. But helpless, faced with how politicians decreed our usage, or deployment. 

Like my little rebellion with a blank personal particulars form, our only option – to say, ‘are you ordering me to…’ In this case – ‘remain unpaid?’ 

If an affirmative response gained, no other options existed.

Likelihood of no pay swilled around Mactier club bar mats with beer slops, and featured heavily corps of signal’s workplaces, communication centres, tea room discussions. 

‘Could they do this? Simply not pay a defence force.’
‘Show up for duty. But don’t get paid.’ 
‘Of course. The green machine is just a political toy. A vessel government power brokers can manipulate as seen fit.’ 
‘Vessel, surely you mean the navy?’

Signals corps were forewarned. Able to sight messages which kept us abreast with posturing during preceding weeks supply was already blocked. We knew full well pay would cease on 20th November. Already aware of ceased movements, cancelled courses and sundry other items left unfunded. We were innocent bystanders, watching a parade of politics pass by. Or an errant child getting notice of their allowance, or inheritance will no longer be available. This lack of funds didn’t just affect defence forces, but wider commonwealth public servants, as well as commonwealth infrastructure contractors. Everyone fumbled wondering about impacts if their next payments or wages did not arrive. 

Military rank and file members are never part of any political decision making processes. You can’t get out of being an army girl easily. A history of troops used by governments is readily accessible. Vietnam conscripts didn’t choose to go to war. Our intake is at least able to cling to a semblance of choice. You might volunteer, or you might be ordered into action.

Official announcements echoed through various barracks and military bases. Soldiers still expected to present themselves for duty. Did anyone think army personnel might resign their jobs, en masse? 

As my soldier fiancé and I lived outside the barracks a degree of difficulty existed. Rent needed to be paid. Rental assistance, along with wages about to cease. 

‘How on earth will we pay the rent?’ I asked rather too aggressively. Suspecting another big argument.
‘Things will be alright. Nothing will happen.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘We’ve a lease. We’re good tenants. They’re not going to throw us out.’ 
‘Again, how can you be so sure?’
‘Well then, we can move back into the barracks.’
‘Is that even possible?’ 

One message I took away from this exchange stood as more evidence of a compartmentalisation while living an army life. Now I became concerned about military parts likely to spill over into sectarian conflict. How’s an army girl to meet daily living costs while not paid? I was also frustrated with Michael’s dogged restraint. And wondered if I’d inherited dad’s attitude to money. A commodity my father regarded as evidence of supremacy. 

Michael eventually went cap in hand to our real estate agent. Explained to them, how due Supply’s blockage and official notification about cessation of soldier’s wages after mid-September, our rent would go into arrears. No doubt they did not sympathise and extracted a written agreement documenting outstanding rent monies be paid in full upon Supply becoming unblocked. Likely he entered into a pact to sell his soul, or our first born before office doors swung closed.

And still we prepared for a corps anniversary slated for September 9th.

Unusual for women to feature so heavily in coverage of any army parade. I also noticed while male soldiers wore slouch hats, instead of expected rising sun badges, the Signals badge, featuring a creature, winged Mercury, also known as Jimmy adorned their hats. 

Kerr didn’t walk between ranks. I can see in my photos he was driven past in an open top khaki jeep. Advance in review order went smoothly. During a march past for eyes right as right marker, I couldn’t turn my head to look, my job to ensure the platoon continued correctly. A directional beacon for others who peered over their right shoulder. I did hear girls say they noticed his silver hair. Removed his trademark top hat, so it didn’t blow away. 

Memory gets clouded, affected by rehearsals and media images projected to a wider public. 

Not only was GG scheduled to review troops at this auspicious occasion but also invited to attend functions at the Mactier club to meet soldiers, chiefly other ranks at this well-known watering-hole. Then later he’d visit Sergeant’s and Officers messes for official receptions. But our Governor General never got there. Instead he quickly departed. Those holding invitations to said functions, still gathered to drink their beers bemused, thinking Kerr simply brushed everyone off. Drunk, hung-over, or he merely forgot. The man, without trying, gained a reputation for non-conformity and general rudeness.  Perhaps he drove away to make a few phone calls to Queen Elizabeth. We will never know the content of those conversations or any other correspondence between the Queen and her envoy.

Two days later the real reasons for these absences surfaced. During 9th September, Sir John Kerr remained preoccupied by moving and shaking going down in Canberra.

I considered the aftermath of blocked supply? Reminders of military powerlessness. GG a no-show for a range of celebrations centred about Signals corps turning fifty. Regarding looming threats and potential catastrophe of unpaid commonwealth public servants; an anti-climax. Whitlam was sacked. 

Like civilian viewers, soldiers watched those images on television. Whitlam outside parliament house. No longer granted sanctum, outside his role as part of the ruling hierarchy. Making references to a freshly appointed stand-in prime minister as Kerr’s cur. And …well may we say, God save the queen, because…Nothing can save the Governor General…Behind scenes, in our vicinity, many sighs of relief. Some people were admonished, but these events clearly showed the military as a force ruled over no matter who possessed parliamentary majority. 

Normalcy returned. Thank heavens supply won’t be blocked anymore. Courses, movements, things costing money can again be scheduled.  

Memory works in alarming ways. After enquiring about what he remembered about the Dismissal, my ex-husband, previous Signalman Singleton, now living on an army pension in Vietnam, cited ignorance of what I meant by this historical event. And bore no memories he can call to mind. 

In my mind, the military stood as a helpless pawn when faced with more dominant political power. I stopped and contemplated how being female marked me as a pawn, deeper down, in such dynamics. What is my oath of allegiance, one I’d taken only a few years previously? To the queen and country…Governor General and a monarch’s representatives.

I wondered what might be the impact of becoming a political agitator. Keen to explore dimensions of agnostic – atheist –apathetic. Wait, I couldn’t really say I am a true non believer. But I am able to acknowledge my naivety. Ignorant of how politics can change, improve or impact our lives. Yet here it did, almost. 
Maybe if I learnt to play a political game. Influenced others with words or actions. Yet I’d already lived experiences seeing nothing changed in life when faced with a despot who wielded power and influence. What if someone sacked my father? 

The closest our family ever got to eradication of this powerful force, still far from his removal. Only one occasion, I can recall, when I might have been from a broken home long before the concept of single parenthood and relevant support payments.

Following another difference of opinion, after the worst shouting finished, Mum packed up us kids. Still shaking with a mix of fury and relief at his lashing out with another missed punch. Her trembling was not quite resolved while she strode uphill. When little Greg complained about her sweaty hands, she nearly slapped his face. Instead of a sympathetic embrace from her mother, my maternal grandmother promptly sent Joan back out into a hot afternoon with, ‘you made your bed, girl, now is time to lay in it,’ farewell ringing in her head. 

Why didn’t mum do something more? What were her limited choices? No women’s shelters then, minimal availability of lowly paid jobs to support her family; where else would she go? Why didn’t people insist Jack stop abusing his wife and kids? So she just stayed. I can’t remember where I heard it, or if I’d made up this story of her sole attempt to leave him. More than once I ran over a familiar tale, told inside my head; narrated her walking through Perth’s summer heat, tugging at least one kid’s reluctant arm, pushing a laden pram, fleeing with her young family to our Grandmother’s house. Just to be sent back again. No representative of the queen to assist my mother culling an unworkable power relationship.

But I was out of there now. Far from home, living in an eastern states city. Employed similar strategies to my siblings. Getting away as soon as possible. Taking control of my own destiny, except when representative of the queen, desires for ownership of government and celebratory parades intruded. Based on experiences during the Dismissal I will soon make serious decisions about the continuation of a lack-lustre military career.   ​