Dust, Donkeys and Delusion examines and clinically debunks the myth that has grown up around Private John Simpson Kirkpatrick, the so-called `Man with the Donkey', the quintessential Australian `hero' of Gallipoli. While the various elements of the Simpson myth have now become popularly accepted as `history', Dust, Donkeys and Delusion shows clearly, based on historical documents, both official and unofficial, that almost every word ever spoken or written about Simpson following his death is false.
Like all crime and punishment, military detention in the Australian Army has a long and fraught history. Accommodating The King’s Hard Bargain tells the gritty story of military detention and punishment dating from colonial times with a focus on the system rather than the individual soldier. World War I was Australia’s first experience of a mass army and the detention experience was complex, encompassing short and long-term detention, from punishment in the field to incarceration in British and Australian military detention facilities. The World War II experience was similarly complex, with detention facilities in England, Palestine and Malaya, mainland Australia and New Guinea. Eventually the management of army detention would become the purview of an independent, specialist service. With the end of the war, the army reconsidered detention and, based on lessons learned, established a single ‘corrective establishment’, its emphasis on rehabilitation. As Accommodating The King’s Hard Bargain graphically illustrates, the road from colonial experience to today’s tri-service corrective establishment was long and rocky. Armies are powerful instruments, but also fragile entities, their capability resting on discipline. It is in pursuit of this war-winning intangible that detention facilities are considered necessary — a necessity that continues in the modern army.
Expertise, Authority and Control charts the development of Australian military medicine in the First World War in the first major study of the Australian Army Medical Corps in over seventy years. It examines the provision of medical care to Australian soldiers during the Dardanelles campaign and explores the imperial and medical-military hierarchies that were blended and challenged during the campaign. By the end of 1918, the AAMC was a radically different organisation. Using army orders, unit war diaries and memoranda written to disseminate information within the Australian Imperial Forces (AIF) and between British and Australian soldiers, it maps the provision of medical care through casualty clearance and evacuation, rehabilitation, and the prevention and treatment of venereal disease. In doing so, she reassesses Australian military medicine and maps the transition to an infrastructure for the AIF in the field, especially in response to conflicts with traditional imperial, military and medical hierarchies.
From Simpson’s donkey and the Emu War to Vietnam and Ben Roberts-Smith, Australian military history is full of events that didn’t happen the way most people think they did. In his inimitable style, award-winning author Mark Dapin sets the record straight. Australia has many stories and statues ‘lest we forget’ our military past. But from Simpson’s donkey to Ben Roberts-Smith, our history is full of events that didn’t happen the way most people think they did. The first Anzac Day, for example, was far from being a solemn march – it was a celebration where people dressed as cavemen and dinosaurs, among other things. And is it true that British officers callously dispatched Australian soldiers to their deaths in the Dardanelles, as we’ve been told? Did we really hate the soldiers returning from Vietnam? Were the white-feather women of the First World War fact or fiction? In his inimitable style, award-winning author and historian Mark Dapin sets the record straight, showing that the reality was often completely different from the myth – and that in celebrating the wrong people we often overlook the real heroes. ‘With Lest, Mark Dapin transforms his trademark humour into serious history … It forces us to look again at stories we think we all know – or should know – and reframe them with intellectual rectitude and rigour … Lest offers new perspectives on the past from one of Australia’s most interesting and provocative thinkers.’ Clare Wright
On 25 April 1915, with the landing of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) below the slopes of Sari Bair on the Gallipoli peninsula, the ANZAC legend was born. Nine months later, having suffered thousands of casualties from disease, hand-to-hand fighting, bombing, sniping and forlorn charges across no man’s land, the politicians and senior military commanders in London called it quits. While the Turks also suffered terribly, they at least emerged victorious. The fighting at Anzac was not restricted to the ANZACs and Turks alone. British troops also fought at Anzac from the earliest days of the invasion and large numbers of British and Indian troops were committed to the Anzac sector during the failed August offensive designed to break the stalemate. The invasion was also supported by large numbers of men — often non-combatants — who performed vital roles. Naval beach officers kept logistics operating in some form of ‘orderly’ fashion; Indian mule handlers moved supplies of food, water and ammunition to the front lines; and medical staff and army chaplains worked on the beach, caring for the wounded and the dead. All these men were frequently under fire from the Turkish battery known as ‘Beachy Bill’. Others surveyed the narrow beachhead and bored deep holes for drinking water; signallers tried desperately to establish and maintain communications; and the gunners hunted the battlefield for suitable places to site their guns. Off the peninsula, but just as vital, were the nursing and medical staff on the hospital ships, at Lemnos, Alexandria, Cairo and Malta, and the airmen who flew above the battlefield spotting for the navy and artillery. Shadows of Anzac: An intimate history of Gallipoli tells the story of the ‘ordinary’ men and women who participated in the Gallipoli campaign from April to December 1915 and gave the Anzac legend meaning. Drawing on letters, diaries and other primary and secondary sources, David Cameron provides an intimate and personal perspective of Anzac, a richly varied portrayal that describes the absurdity, monotony and often humour that sat alongside the horrors of the bitter fight to claim the peninsula.
'There is no doubt the truth would have been concealed and our concerns buried without Nick McKenzie's relentless pursuit of justice.' SAS Afghanistan veteran War is brutal. But there are lines that should never be crossed. In mid-2017, whispers of executions, and cover-ups within Australia's most secretive and elite military unit, the SAS, reached Walkley Award-winning journalist Nick McKenzie. He and Chris Masters began an investigation that would not only reveal shocking truths about Ben Roberts-Smith VC but plunge the reporters into the defamation trial of the century. For five years, McKenzie led the investigation, waging an epic battle for the truth to be acknowledged. His fight to reveal the real face of Australia's most famous and revered SAS soldier and examine evidence of bullying, intimidation, war crimes and murder would take him across Australia and to Afghanistan. As he unearthed the secrets Ben Roberts-Smith had thought he'd long ago buried, McKenzie had to deal with death threats, powerful forces intent on destroying his career and attempts to silence brave SAS soldiers, who had witnessed their famous comrade commit unspeakable acts. McKenzie would break the stories that proved the man idolised by the public, politicians, the media and leading business leaders was a myth. His efforts would help deliver justice to Roberts-Smith's victims and their families. Explosive and meticulously researched, Crossing the Line shares the powerful untold story of how a small group of brave soldiers and two determined reporters overcame a plot to suppress one of the greatest military scandals in Australian history.
Our Friend the Enemy is the first detailed history of the Gallipoli campaign at Anzac since Charles Bean’s Official History. Viewed from both sides of the wire and described in first-hand accounts. Australian Captain Herbert Layh recounted that as they approached the beach on 25 April that, once we were behind cover the Turks turned their .. [fire] on us, and gave us a lively 10 minutes. A poor chap next to me was hit three times. He begged me to shoot him, but luckily for him a fourth bullet got him and put him out of his pain. Later that day, Sergeant Charles Saunders, a New Zealand engineer, described his first taste of battle, The Turks were entrenched some 50-100 yards from the edge of the face of the gully and their machine guns swept the edges. Line after line of our men went up, some lines didn’t take two paces over the crest when down they went to a man and on came another line. Gunner Recep Trudal of the Turkish 27th Regiment wrote of the fierce Turkish counter-attack on 19 May designed to push the Anzac’s back into the sea, It started at morning prayer call time, and then it went on and on, never stopped. You know there was no break for eating or anything … Attack was our command. That was what the Pasha said. Once he says “Attack”, you attack, and you either die or you survive.
The late Graham Wilson delighted in his self-appointed role as the AIF’s myth buster. In this, his second and final volume of Bully Beef and Balderdash, he tackles another eight popularly accepted myths, exposing the ‘Water Wizard’ of Gallipoli who saved an army, dismissing the old adage that the ‘lions of the AIF’ were led by British ‘donkeys’, debunking the Gallipoli legends of the lost sword of Eureka and ‘Abdul the Terrible’, the Sultan’s champion marksman sent to dispose of AIF sniper Billy Sing, and unravelling a series of other long-standing fictions. Finally, he turns his formidable forensic mind to the ‘lost’ seven minutes at The Nek, the early cessation of the artillery barrage which led to the slaughter of the Light Horsemen immortalised in Peter Weir’s Gallipoli. Wilson’s crusade to debunk such celebrated fictions was born of the conviction that these myths do very real damage to the history of the AIF. To demythologise this nation’s Great War military history, he argues, is to encourage Australians to view the AIF’s record on its own merits. Such are these merits that they do not require any form of embellishment to shine for all time. This book is a tribute to Graham Wilson’s extraordinary passion for truth and fact and his drive to set the historical record straight.
