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On the 21st of June, 1906, the port of Fremantle witnessed a sight that became the talk of the town—a steamship, NORFOLK, arriving not under its intended power, but jury-rigged with makeshift sails. This was no ordinary sight, as the era of steamships had long since overtaken the age of sail, and vessels powered by steam were symbols of modernity and progress.

The NORFOLK, a sturdy steamship of British design, had departed from its last port with cargo and passengers bound for Australia. Somewhere along its voyage, disaster struck: the vessel’s engine failed, leaving it adrift on the open sea. For days, the crew wrestled with the predicament, aware that their steamship, which relied entirely on its engine, was helpless without propulsion.

The captain and crew, seasoned mariners with experience in both sail and steam, refused to surrender to the misfortune. Using every resource available, they improvised sails from canvas, tarpaulins, and even bed sheets. The rigging was cobbled together using spars, ropes, and whatever sturdy materials could be salvaged. This jury-rigged solution transformed the NORFOLK into a strange hybrid—a modern steamship temporarily converted into a sailing vessel.

With the improvised sails catching the wind, the ship inched its way across the Indian Ocean. The journey was slow and fraught with challenges. Steering a steamship designed for precision propulsion was no easy feat with only makeshift sails. However, the crew’s determination, ingenuity, and teamwork triumphed over the adversity.

When the NORFOLK finally came into view of Fremantle, it was met with awe and curiosity. Residents, workers at the docks, and officials gathered to watch the extraordinary vessel make its way into the harbor. The spectacle of a steamship arriving under sail was a stark reminder of the resilience and adaptability of seafarers in the face of adversity.

The story of the NORFOLK‘s journey spread quickly, becoming a symbol of courage and innovation. It served as a testament to the maritime spirit, blending the traditions of the age of sail with the advancements of the steam era.

The ship was eventually repaired and returned to its full functionality, but the tale of its remarkable journey to Fremantle remained a part of maritime lore, celebrated in the annals of Australian shipping history.

Doug Hegdahl, pictured in captivity around Christmastime in 1968, was serving with the Navy on a warship off the coast of Vietnam in 1967 when he fell overboard – paving the way for him to become the youngest, lowest-ranking US POW at the Hanoi Hilton, where he brilliantly pretended to be a fool as he gathered intel against the Communists (US Information Agency)

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How a Navy sailor fell off his ship, played dumb — and became a Vietnam POW hero

Next Tuesday, the 17th, Julie and I will be flying to beautiful Queenstown, New Zealand, before heading to Wanaka to spend Christmas and New Year with our son and his family. We’re absolutely thrilled about the trip and can’t wait to together during the festive season.

In the spirit of relaxation and family time, I’ve decided not to take my laptop along, though the decision was slightly influenced by a light-hearted (but firm!) “Leave it behind or else” warning. We’ll be returning home on the 3rd of January. While I might be able to share updates here and there from my phone, we’ll have to see how that works out.

Reflecting on this past year, it has been nothing short of wonderful and fulfilling. Julie and I are deeply grateful for all the support you’ve given me personally and to Frontline as we continue to grow and take on new challenges together. Your encouragement and dedication mean the world to us.

As we approach 2025, we both want to wish you and your families a truly joyous and memorable Christmas and New Year. May the season bring happiness, peace, and love to your homes. Here’s to a fantastic year ahead for all of us! Cheers! 🎄✨

Ray & Julie

MEDIA RELEASE Date: 10 Dec 2024

The Deputy Prime Minister and Minister for Defence, Richard Marles, today announced a significant milestone in Australia’s defence capabilities with the successful test firing of a Tomahawk cruise missile by HMAS Brisbane, a Hobart-class destroyer. The test and evaluation activity was conducted off the west coast of the United States.

This achievement positions Australia as one of only three nations, alongside the United States and United Kingdom, to acquire and now fire the Tomahawk missile—a world-class capability with an extended range of up to 2,500km, enabling long-range precision strikes against land targets.

Celebrating the milestone, Minister Marles stated:

“The successful test firing of the Tomahawk missile demonstrates the strength of our alliance and defence cooperation with the United States, in support of a peaceful, stable, and prosperous region. Acquiring this capability significantly enhances the ADF’s ability to deter against any potential threat and keep Australians safe.”

Minister Marles highlighted the strategic importance of enhancing Australia’s defence capabilities:

“By enhancing our own Defence capabilities, and by working with partners, we change the calculus for any potential aggressor so that no state will ever conclude the benefits of conflict outweigh the risks.”

The successful firing of the Tomahawk missile builds on earlier demonstrations of advanced maritime capabilities, including the Naval Strike Missile and Standard Missile 6. This rapid progress underscores the Albanese Government’s commitment to enhancing the lethality of the Royal Australian Navy’s surface combatant fleet.

Minister for Defence Industry and Capability Delivery, Pat Conroy, echoed the Deputy Prime Minister’s sentiments, adding:

“The Tomahawk is the jewel in the crown and a step change in our firepower, deterrence, and ability to strike land-based targets at ranges never before available to the Royal Australian Navy.”

Australia will acquire over 200 Tomahawk missiles for deployment across Hobart-class destroyers, future Virginia-class submarines, and, subject to feasibility studies, Hunter-class frigates.

This milestone marks another step forward in the Albanese Government’s efforts to deliver cutting-edge defence capabilities and strengthen Australia’s contribution to regional and global security.

The Times – Nick Wojciechowski

“Russia has granted asylum to him and his family on humanitarian grounds,” a Kremlin source told TASS news agency. The once-mighty Assad family, who held Syria in an iron grip for decades, now found themselves as exiles, navigating the gilded isolation of Barvikha — the Moscow suburb infamous for hosting the fallen powerful.

The Collapse

Bashar al-Assad’s hold over Syria had grown tenuous after years of civil war and economic collapse. Hyperinflation shredded the Syrian lira, leaving the nation’s people grappling with destitution. What was once a regime propped up by Russian and Iranian resources crumbled like a sandcastle under a rising tide.

For Vladimir Putin, the fallout was more than an embarrassment. It was a catastrophic geopolitical loss. With the Tartus naval base and Latakia airbase at risk, Russia’s once-solid foothold in the Mediterranean appeared perilously unstable. “The collapse of Assad’s regime represents a contraction of Russia’s claim to global power,” noted R. Clarke Cooper of the Atlantic Council.

A Gilded Cage

As news of Damascus’s fall rippled across the world, the Assads fled to Russia. Asma al-Assad, battling leukemia, arrived first with her three children. Her husband, Bashar, followed shortly after, slipping through the chaos of his abandoned palace to board a jet arranged by the Kremlin.

Barvikha, the fabled enclave of Moscow’s elite, became their sanctuary. The town’s quiet streets, lined with sprawling mansions and patrolled by private security, offered both safety and secrecy. Gold-rimmed chandeliers and expansive gardens became the backdrop for a life in exile, but luxury did little to dull the sting of displacement.

Neighbours whispered about the Assads’ arrival. Some, like Kyrgyzstan’s deposed president Askar Akayev and Georgian strongman Aslan Abashidze, might sympathize with their plight. Others, cloaked in their own secrets, viewed the newcomers with cautious curiosity.

The Ghosts of New Shaab

Meanwhile, in Damascus, victorious rebels scoured the abandoned New Shaab Palace. They marvelled at the opulence: marble halls, garages filled with exotic cars, and rumours of hidden safes bursting with cash.

In Washington, the State Department estimated the Assad family’s wealth at $2 billion, much of it hidden in offshore accounts and shell corporations. The discovery of these assets, scattered across the globe, became a macabre scavenger hunt for those seeking reparations.

Putin’s Gambit

In Moscow, Putin faced his own reckoning. The Syrian debacle had diminished his credibility as a power broker in the Middle East. His two strategic bases in Syria hung by a thread, their fate dependent on volatile agreements with the new regime.

Still, the Russian president played his hand with calculated pragmatism. He housed the Assads not out of loyalty but as a strategic manoeuvre. As long as they remained in his shadow, they were a potential bargaining chip — a reminder to the world of Russia’s enduring influence.

The Heir in Waiting

In Barvikha, the Assad children adjusted to their new lives. Hafez, the eldest, had once been groomed as his father’s successor. Now, at 23, he found himself adrift, grappling with a legacy that was equal parts privilege and infamy.

Rumours swirled that Hafez might one day return to Syria to reclaim his family’s position. But for now, the Assads’ life in exile was marked by quiet routines, visits from Kremlin officials, and the distant hum of history being rewritten without them.

An Uncertain Future

For Russia, Syria’s collapse was a stark reminder of the limits of power projection. For the Assads, Barvikha was both a sanctuary and a prison, a place where luxury could not mask the weight of irrelevance.

The palaces they left behind might crumble, the alliances they forged might dissolve, but the shadow they cast over history would linger — an indelible mark on a shattered Syria and a faltering Russia.

The origins of Vietnam’s underground tunnel network remain somewhat unclear, but they likely began during the Japanese occupation in World War II (1942-1945). Initially constructed as hiding places and escape routes, these tunnels expanded significantly during the French War (1946-1954). Viet Minh fighters and villagers alike used them for survival hiding from raids, storing rice, and evading starvation caused by foraging soldiers from both sides.

The stakes escalated in the early 1960s with the arrival of the U.S. Army. Facing overwhelming firepower from aerial bombings and artillery strikes, the North Vietnamese Army (NVA) and Viet Cong (VC) embraced tunnelling as a critical survival tactic. What began as a defensive strategy evolved into a formidable offensive system. These tunnels became subterranean military hubs housing barracks, hospitals, workshops, storage facilities, and even training rooms.

This underground infrastructure was vast and sophisticated, with ventilation shafts, escape routes, and booby-trapped sections to deter intruders. The tunnels also featured ambush points and defensive measures to neutralize enemies, including gas-proof sumps. Navigating these dark, confined spaces posed extreme risks for those attempting to infiltrate them.

The Australians, specifically the Tunnel Rats of the Royal Australian Engineers, became an integral part of the war effort. These soldiers, drawn from units like 3 Field Troop and 1 Field Squadron, were tasked with clearing and destroying enemy bunker systems and tunnels. Their work was perilous, requiring exceptional courage and adaptability.

In January 1965, during Operation Crimp in the Ho Bo Woods part of the infamous Iron Triangle 3 Field Troop faced their baptism of fire. Initially deployed for standard engineering tasks like road clearing and de-mining, they were soon called to investigate enemy tunnel entrances. One such entrance proved deadly, with an enemy soldier killing two Australians and injuring two others. Despite having no prior training, volunteers entered the claustrophobic tunnels armed only with flashlights and bayonets.

Inside, they discovered an intelligence goldmine, marking the beginning of their unexpected and dangerous role as Tunnel Rats. However, the lack of experience quickly led to tragedy. On the fourth day, Corporal Bob Bowtell, a towering figure at 184 cm, suffocated in a narrow tunnel due to insufficient air circulation. His size blocked airflow, and rescuers narrowly avoided the same fate. Over the six-day operation, six sappers suffered asphyxiation, with one fatality and several injuries.

The Australians learned harsh lessons during these early missions. While the Vietnamese lived and worked in these tunnels for extended periods, the air became hazardous for outsiders due to residual tear gas and smoke from clearing operations. The “Mighty Mite” blower system introduced by the Australians required careful use to re-oxygenate tunnels before entry an essential step overlooked in their initial efforts.

Despite these setbacks, the Tunnel Rats persevered. Their determination was fuelled by a deep sense of duty and camaraderie. Each new tunnel system presented a deadly challenge, often requiring them to crawl through pitch-black, booby-trapped passages with the constant threat of ambush. Over time, they developed techniques and processes to navigate and clear tunnels more effectively.

As their expertise grew, the Tunnel Rats contributed significantly to intelligence-gathering efforts. However, their role extended far beyond tunnel clearance. They also defused mines and booby traps, cleared paths through suspected minefields, and performed regular engineering duties like repairing roads and bridges. Their versatility and bravery underpinned the broader success of Australian forces in Vietnam.

By the time 3 Field Troop returned to Nui Dat to help establish the 1st Australian Task Force base, their efforts had proven invaluable. However, the high casualty rate among Tunnel Rats highlighted the inherent dangers of their role. Of the 35 Australian sappers killed in Vietnam, most were victims of mines rather than tunnel combat. Their unit suffered a staggering 36% casualty rate, underscoring the extreme risks they faced.

Recognition for their bravery was limited, with only five Military Medals and one Military Cross awarded between 1965 and 1971. This under-recognition reflects more on the “rationing” of awards than the magnitude of their contributions.

The Tunnel Rats’ legacy is one of extraordinary courage and resilience. As Sapper Bob O’Connor poignantly remarked in 1968:

“No one is going to force you to do this kind of stuff… But if you decide to stay, you’ve got to believe, and I mean really believe, that you’re already dead. Tunnel Rat casualty rates are ridiculously high… Once you accept you’re a dead man walking, the job gets much easier. It even becomes a challenge.”

Few soldiers embodied the Australian spirit of tenacity, humour, and bravery like the Tunnel Rats. Their unyielding resolve in the face of unimaginable danger stands as a testament to their character and commitment. For those unsuited to confined spaces or one-on-one combat in complete darkness, this role was a nightmare. But for those who took it on, it was a chance to redefine what it meant to serve.

Australia participated in the Vietnam War on the anti-communist side alongside South Vietnam, the USA and South Korea. Approximately 61,000 Australian military personnel participated in the war. 521 Australians died and approximately 3,000 were wounded. Rest in Peace.

Defence demonstrated its commitment to First Nations peoples with the unveiling of dual base names on Wiradjuri country at RAAF Base Wagga and Blamey Barracks, Kapooka, as part of a dual naming pilot program.

Wiradjuri traditional owners provided Wiradjuri language names for RAAF Base Wagga, ‘Yalbiligi Ngurang’ (pronounced ‘Yal-bili-gi Ner-rung’) and ‘Gabuga’ (pronounced ‘Gah-buh-gah’) for Blamey Barracks. 

The names and traditional artwork on new signage were unveiled during a ceremony at the entrances of both bases on November 22. 

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Dual Indigenous names for Defence bases unveiled | Defence

The Juru people of the Burdekin, Qld, have made the significant decision to ban Welcome to Country ceremonies on their ancestral lands, citing concerns over the commercialization and perceived loss of meaning behind the practice. The move, supported by community members and local leaders, reflects a desire to restore authenticity and unity to their cultural traditions.

The decision, made by Juru elders during a meeting on Thursday night, was driven by discomfort with how the ceremonies have been exploited by individuals without ancestral ties to the Burdekin. Spokesperson Randall Ross explained that the elders had grown weary of the practice being turned into a profit-driven venture.

“The elders have had enough,” Ross stated on 4BC Mornings with Bill McDonald. “It is being abused, and they want to put a stop to it.”

While the Juru remain steadfast in their commitment to protecting their land and heritage, they have drawn a clear line against practices that they feel undermine the sacred nature of their traditions.

Burdekin Mayor Pierina Dalle Cort welcomed the decision, emphasizing the importance of unity and collaboration within the community.

“I’m happy to work with the traditional owners,” she said. “We’re multicultural, we’re one country, and we’ve all got to learn to live and work together.”

Mayor Dalle Cort also acknowledged that the move resonated with many in the community, describing it as “an early Christmas present” to those who had grown frustrated with the divisive aspects of the ceremonies.

Prominent Indigenous leader Warren Mundine applauded the Juru people’s stance, criticizing how Welcome to Country ceremonies have, in some instances, devolved into a platform for political statements or commercial gain.

“They’re meant to be a welcome, but some people are charging exorbitant fees or making political speeches instead,” Mundine said. “This is causing anger and division, especially when the ceremonies are performed by individuals who have no genuine connection to the land.”

The decision by the Juru people underscores the importance of respecting Indigenous culture without allowing it to be misused or commodified. By taking this stand, the Juru elders hope to protect the integrity of their traditions and foster a sense of shared understanding and cooperation among all Australians.

Their decision sends a powerful message: cultural practices should honour their original purpose and meaning rather than being co-opted for personal or commercial gain. In doing so, the Juru people aim to inspire a more unified and respectful approach to Australia’s diverse heritage.