In the early seventies , a crew from 38 Field Squadron removed tree-stumps from the main street of Yinnar over several weekends using nitropril; the stumps resisted two charges. With the third the explosion damaged the facade of the nearby butter factory – the residues must have contributed. A demolition mat came down in a yard terrifying the resident greyhounds.
One weekend shortly after, when playing football at Yinnar, WO2 Fred Milkins heard a bang. It was Sgt Harold Fullerton displaying initiative by working on his own – unfortunately a stump hit the bowsers at the local petrol station – fortunately there was no fire. Eventually every stump was out – all this operating 10-15 m from shopfronts!
(See photos attached)
WO2 Fred Milkins has many stories of those days, mainly about his passion – explosives.
In the late sixties, the unit supported local police when explosives problems eventuated.
Workers clearing a derelict sawmill within Moe discovered some sixty sticks of American dynamite lying on sheets of galvanised iron and in the blackberries. After years of frosts and rain, the material was weeping, rotten and risky.
Fred came home to find police waiting – he grabbed his explosives textbook and they took him straight to the site. By now it was dark; police guards took post and CPL Ray Watson and Fred laid demolition mats and, by the light of police torches, loaded the explosive stick by stick into the utility. With police escort, they drove to a gravel pit at Westbury to destroy their load.
They set off their charge using borrowed gelignite from a construction company. It shook ornaments off the shelves at SSgt Des Oldis’ house nearby. Fred’s wife heard the roar and immediately phoned the police – their mobile radio brought reassurance.
Engineer roulette was sometimes played at camp. Select a half or full stick of gelignite; add a one-foot piece of fuse (one minutes worth) – but no detonator please! When non-sappers are in the mess, suggest we play engineer roulette; open all doors and windows; pass the gelignite around; the last man holding buys a round of drinks. Mess up the count to further confuse. Eventually it will be thrown outside in desperation and almost simultaneously an accomplice outside lets off a CE primer to impress the guests. Similarly, engineer reveille involved a slab of TNT.
OPERATION FIREPOWER
One of the biggest military operations in Australia during the fifties was Operation Firepower, conducted on 14-15 March 1959 on Puckapunyal Range. Victorian engineer units played a key part in this very realistic demonstration. The theme was a defensive battle using nuclear weapons.
Day 1 included action by a covering force, evacuation of casualties by helicopter, a battalion withdrawal and a night breach of a minefield by sappers.
Day 2 demonstrated a battalion counter-attack with close air support by Sabre jet fighters, and a deliberate counter-attack by 58/32 Battalion supported by the tanks of A Squadron, 4/19 Prince of Wales’s Light Horse and the guns of 2 Field Regiment and Q Battery, 10 Medium Regiment.
One could inspect actual units on the ground in defensive positions, just as they would be in such a battle. Among the many weapons fired live were Vickers machine guns, three-inch mortars, 105 mm and 5.5 inch guns, and Sabre-mounted rockets.
Besides attracting virtually every Army officer in Victoria and a big representation from the rest of Australia, Operation Firepower drew numerous officers from the South East Asia Treaty Organisation countries. (SEATO was then Australia’s predominant strategic alliance with Asian nations.)
Engineer support came from 38 Field Squadron, which provided the breaching team and set up and fired the battle simulation charges and the ‘nuclear bomb’.
For Fred Milkins it was the most memorable camp of the fifties. When he heard about it the year before, he immediately applied to go on courses to become a demolitions supervisor and eventually was an examiner for the ARA and CMF for nineteen years.
Operation Firepower included a simulated atomic bomb which Fred helped prepare. Four 700 litre open tanks stood on a pre-fabricated stand, each filled with a petrol-diesel-napalm gel, with three vertical Bangalore torpedoes stabilised in each tank and three beehives inverted underneath to create an updraft, and therefore a mushroom effect, from the exploding petroleum.
Moreover there was a large ring-main of detonating cord around the main charge to give the thumping effect one imagines characterises nuclear explosions.
During rehearsals Sabre jets would strafe the site – so the charge had to be shifted five times – to everyone’s annoyance.
One day when Fred was simulating artillery fire, a Ferret scout car rolled up and a Colonel jumped out. Fred saluted; inside sat an older officer wearing a leather jerkin with epaulettes just protruding. ‘How’s it going?’ Fred was asked, and he replied, ‘We’re getting stuffed around by the headquarters staff!’
He complained about the Sabres and the shifts and that safety distances were excessive; for technical reasons and especially a shortage of detonating cord he needed to set off the main charge at 200 metres instead of 1000 metres.
Back at camp, his OC told him he had been talking to Lt Gen Edgar, the GOC Southern Command. However his requests were approved and on the big day, he and his driver ‘Snowy’ Musgrove initiated the charge satisfactorily, although the 200 metre distance proved very close for comfort!
With five minutes before the Sabres were to strike the bomb site, Fred and ‘Snowy’ quickly drove up behind Spectator Hill. Fred felt a hand on his shoulder – it was Lt Gen Edgar, resplendent in aiguillettes and medals. ‘Did you get that problem fixed?’ he chuckled, then congratulated them on a great job.
Source; Swan Street Sappers
RAEAV photo collection PV 1001(1)
Mel Constable
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