THE BASTARDS By Peter Foley, 4 RAR/NZ
While we were down at 1 ALSG, sitting around the Harold Holt swimming pool, we were approached by a couple of “Ginger-Beers” and invited to field a team from Delta Company to play an engineer unit in a friendly game of football. I can’t remember who won, but I have a vague memory of going back to their sergeants’ mess and getting on the rum with them. Food was brought out but I disgraced myself by falling over and smashing about 50 of their crockery plates. Those bloody mongrels, Bergmans and Morrow, then picked me up and frog-marched me out to their pool and threw me in. Each time I tried to get out they put a foot on my head and pushed my head underwater. The BASTARDS were trying to drown me, yelling at me to wake up to myself. I got them back later.
The easy way is always mined.