Failures of Command: The death of Private Robert Poate

By Hugh Poate

This is the story of our quest for answers and the shocking facts that emerged. On 29 August 2012 Private Robert Poate, Lance Corporal Rick Milosevic, and Sapper James Martin were killed during an insider—or green on blue —attack in Afghanistan. Their killer, a supposed ally, was a Taliban sleeper in the ranks of the Afghan National Army. Information provided to the families by rank-and-file soldiers after the event shocked them. And the heavily redacted internal investigation report excluded a plethora of potentially incriminating facts. This powerful book is the result of a father's quest to find out the truth behind the death of his soldier son. Hugh Poate's search reveals a labyrinth of excuses, denials, half-truths, cover-ups, contrived secrecy, incompetence, negligence, orders not followed, and lessons not learnt. Compelling and enraging, this story of the disturbing facts surrounding the devastating loss of three soldiers continues to reverberate beyond their families to the highest levels of the Australian Defence Force and Government.

• Language: English
• Publisher: NewSouth
• Release date: Apr 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781742245157

Book preview

Introduction

On 11 September 2001 (later known as 9/11), a sophisticated cell of Al Qaeda terrorists carried out coordinated suicide attacks in the United States using four hijacked passenger aircraft. They flew two aircraft into the twin towers of the World Trade Center in New York City, which were 110 storeys high; one into the Pentagon in Washington, DC; and a fourth, destined for either the White House or the Capitol, crashed into a field in Pennsylvania during an attempt by passengers to overpower the terrorists. Approximately 3000 people, including 11 Australian citizens, were killed.

In response to the 9/11 attacks, the NATO Alliance was activated – the first time in its 52-year history that the member countries had gone to war.¹ On 7 October 2001, a US-led coalition attacked Afghanistan under Operation Enduring Freedom. Australia, while not a NATO member, was part of a NATO-led coalition of 50 nations known as the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF), established in December 2001.

A large number of ISAF members participated in the coalition primarily as a gesture of solidarity and mainly provided ancillary support roles. Additionally, many countries were only prepared to act as peacekeepers, not as combat forces. This placed a heavier burden on those countries prepared to get involved in warlike operations, which was a significant debilitating feature of the ISAF campaign.²

Australia’s involvement in the Afghanistan War was coined Operation Slipper, and began with a deployment in 2001 of soldiers from the Special Air Service (SAS) Regiment following the 9/11 attacks. In 2002 Australia established Joint Task Force 633 to exercise command and control of all Australian Defence Force (ADF) units in the Middle East Area of Operations.

The original stated purpose for Australia going to war in Afghanistan was twofold. First, to invoke the ANZUS Treaty³ to join with the US and other nations to kill or capture Osama bin Laden, the supreme commander of the terrorist organisation Al Qaeda, which had claimed responsibility for the 9/11 attacks. The second rationale was to destroy the Al Qaeda terrorist training camps in Afghanistan and deny terrorists a safe haven. Prime Minister John Howard wanted to commit sharp-edged forces for a limited period of time during the ‘hot’ part of the war, but not to get bogged down in a long, drawn-out peacekeeping operation.⁴ Unfortunately, his latter objective was overridden by successive governments in what I would call ‘nation building’.

The intent to deny terrorists a safe haven in Afghanistan has been the most consistently stated justification by successive prime ministers for Australia’s involvement in the War in Afghanistan, and for remaining there for so long.

British journalist James Fergusson has criticised this rationale of denying terrorists a safe haven, saying the personal relationship between the Supreme Head of the Taliban, Mullah Omar, and Osama bin Laden has been the subject of much ill-informed speculation in the West. Fergusson argues the mistake by the West was to assume that Omar’s Afghanistan was a terrorist state, when in reality it was a state sponsored by terrorists (including Al Qaeda when bin Laden was there).⁵ Fergusson says the Taliban has an exclusively domestic agenda – to establish a Sharia State in Afghanistan and to rid Afghanistan of foreigners – while bin Laden’s supporters were Arabs whose goals were international. Bin Laden’s objectives were to kill Americans and their allies, while the Taliban has never been responsible for a single bomb in a foreign country. Mullah Omar stated that the West destroyed his government for the sake of just one man, who was never invited into Afghanistan.⁶

The terrorist training camps were destroyed by air power in the first ten days of the invasion. The Taliban was in the throes of being destroyed when Australia joined the US and Britain to invade Iraq in 2003 without UN Security Council endorsement.⁷ The invasion of Iraq was described by Madeleine Albright as the greatest disaster in American foreign policy.⁸ The remnants of the Taliban fled to Pakistan or melted back into the civilian population. Australia kept a small contingent of SAS soldiers in Afghanistan, but the main war effort shifted to Iraq. This period of war in Iraq allowed the Taliban to strengthen its numbers, tactical organisation and commitment in Afghanistan.

The Taliban was internationally recognised as the Government of Afghanistan from 1996 to 2001 when it was quickly toppled by the invading Western forces.⁹ A UN resolution subsequently installed Hamid Karzai as interim President. Karzai’s leadership was both tenuous and corrupt. Hundreds of millions of dollars in Western aid funds went to his friends who were warlords from the Mujahideen and had fought the previous Russian invasion of Afghanistan.

To further the objective of denying terrorists a safe haven in Afghanistan, the ADF deployed four successive Mentoring and Reconstruction Task Forces from 2005 to build schools, medical facilities and roads in an attempt to win the ‘hearts and minds’ of the Afghan population and stabilise the Karzai government. In effect, this ‘nation building’ policy unwittingly contributed to Australia’s combat activities in Afghanistan lasting for a total of 12 years.

This hearts and minds objective also included a new strategy in contemporary warfare, civilians from AusAid (Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade), whose personnel contributed to a Provisional Reconstruction Team to administer development aid programs funded by Australia and some other ISAF allies. However, rampant public-sector corruption, assistance to the Taliban from Pakistan, drug use, and illiteracy of about 90 per cent in the Afghan National Army (ANA) and Afghan National Police produced a formidable challenge.

From 2010, with no end to the war in sight, the Mentoring and Reconstruction Task Forces were replaced with a series of five consecutive Mentoring Task Forces with a change in focus. Their objective was to train and build a local ANA and police force to enable Afghanistan to take care of its own security. This was also an exit strategy for Australia.

Australia was given the responsibility of training the 4th Brigade of the ANA, approximately 3000 personnel comprising six battalions (known by the Afghans as ‘Kandaks’). Australia’s main geographic area of operations (tactical area of responsibility) was Uruzgan Province, which had been the responsibility of Dutch military forces until the Dutch withdrew from Afghanistan in 2010.

The objective of Australia’s involvement in the war, to kill or capture Osama bin Laden, was achieved on 2 May 2011 when he was killed in Pakistan by US Special Forces. Both Australian objectives for going to war in Afghanistan had then been achieved. This should have heralded ‘mission accomplished’ and the end of Australia’s presence in Afghanistan, but it didn’t. Eighteen more Australian soldiers, including our son, would be killed in action there, while Australia remained in Afghanistan seemingly to help a corrupt government gain control of Afghanistan and introduce American-style democracy in a tribal nation that was only 31.7 per cent literate in 2011.¹⁰

The fifth and final Mentoring Task Force was officially named the 3 RAR Task Group, and it deployed to Afghanistan in July 2012 for a six-month tour of duty. This task group included our son, Private Robert Poate, as well as Lance Corporal Rick Milosevic and Sapper James Martin, who were all killed during the insider attack at Patrol Base Wahab on 29 August 2012.

By the end of 2013 combat forces of most ISAF member countries had left Afghanistan. The total number of ISAF soldiers killed in action during the 12 years of war in Afghanistan was 3407. Only half of the 50 ISAF member countries sustained fatal casualties during the entire war. The US and Britain suffered the largest number. The US lost 2271 killed in action and 20 083 wounded. Britain lost 456 killed in action and more than 2000 wounded. The cost in dollar terms was astronomical. The cost to the US was US$686 billion in direct military activity, and when medical and other costs for veterans are added the total estimated costs are $2.3 trillion. The cost to Britain was £37 billion for military and aid expenditure.¹¹

The cost to Australia was 41 lives lost (40 killed in action and one from a non-combat related incident) and 261 wounded. Additionally, between 2001 and 2017 there were 419 suicides in serving, reserve and ex-serving ADF personnel who had served since 2001, in Afghanistan and Iraq.¹² At the time of writing, this figure is estimated to have risen to over 500. These suicides are part of the human cost of war and, regrettably, that figure is still rising. The monetary cost to Australia in military and aid expenditure was approximately A$9.3 billion.¹³ This does not include ongoing so-called aid funding, provided by Australia to Afghanistan since the cessation of Australia’s combat activities in December 2012.

The ABC’s Andrew Greene has reported that 35 000 Taliban fighters and 30 000 civilians were killed during the War in Afghanistan. Many thousands more civilians have been killed since the withdrawal of ISAF forces as the Taliban continues its insurgency to regain control of the country.¹⁴ In 2019, 25–35 ANA soldiers were being killed each day by the Taliban.¹⁵ In total, over 150 000 ANA soldiers had been killed during the war to October 2019.¹⁶

Our family accepted the risk that Robert could be killed by going to war in Afghanistan, as did he. Thirty-five Australian soldiers had already been killed before he deployed. But we never expected him to be killed primarily as a result of incompetence, negligence and systemic failures in the chain of command of commissioned officers from his task group.

Retired Major General Jim Molan has stated, Australians think that what characterises Australia’s experience of war is the ANZAC spirit. That’s not true. What characterises Australia’s experience of war is unpreparedness overcome at the expense of the soldiers.’¹⁷

Former Australian Army officer James Brown poses the question in his book ANZAC’s Long Shadow: Are we doing enough to make sure Australian soldiers never again lose their lives in a poorly devised and executed campaign [Gallipoli]?’¹⁸ Based on the circumstances of the insider attack in which our son and his two mates were killed, the answer to this question is an emphatic no.

1

Brothers by Choice

Our son was born Robert Hugh Frederick Poate in Canberra on 15 November 1988, but we called him Robbie from the start. Robbie was always happy as a baby and was a toddler with a permanent smile on his face. He carried this smile through to adulthood and his mates referred to it as his ‘cheeky grin’. He was four years younger than his sister, Nicola, but the two got along very well. Nicola enjoyed ‘mothering’ him and having a little brother to introduce to her friends. Growing up they maintained this special bond.

It’s fair to say that Robbie loved life. He loved animals, and domestic animals were drawn to him. I remember we got him a cat when he was only about three years old and Robbie and Pumpkin became inseparable. Whenever Robbie appeared the cat would go to him, follow him everywhere. As soon as he sat down she would be on his lap.

He was an inquisitive child. He watched closely what his mother, Janny, and I did. He always asked a lot of questions, which we liked. We made sure we had time to respond with sensible answers that he could understand at his young age.

While we lived in Canberra, where I worked in the public service as a research economist, we had bought a farm as a weekender at Gundaroo, near Canberra, just after Nicola was born. This was primarily to enable the children to develop the same life skills that Janny and I had gained as children on our own parents’ rural properties. Robbie learnt how to set rabbit traps and how to catch rabbits with pet ferrets. The rabbits became food for our pets and ingredients for ‘underground mutton’ casseroles made by Janny. Robbie loved to watch the rare red-necked wallabies on the property. Janny taught Robbie most of his fishing skills, starting when he was a toddler. He loved salt-water fishing on the coast at Bermagui, a trip we made whenever we visited Janny’s parents on their dairy farm at Cobargo, and fishing for the trout and native perch we put into the big dam in front of the house at our Gundaroo farm. Robbie was always very excited to catch a fish, no matter how large or small it was.

Robbie loved to explore the 200 acres (81 hectares) of our property, about two-thirds of which is bushland. When he was very young, Janny and I took turns on the quad bike with Robbie sitting on our laps. There was always something different to see. Like many children who grow up on farms, by the age of about five he was able to competently ride the quad bike safely by himself and would head off on the bike or walk into the bush to do his own exploring and exercise his imagination. He would often take Nicola on the quad and they would explore together. In later years he learnt to ride a motorbike and, again, would often dink Nicola on the back of the motorbike with him, even though she was four years older than him. Robbie had perfect hand–eye coordination. He often had his school friends to stay over on weekends, and they would also go exploring and often liked to camp in a tent in the bush not far from the house. Our farm is 40 minutes’ drive from the nearest hospital, so we taught him to watch out for snakes and the danger they presented.

We felt it important for Robbie and Nicola to learn about our food sources. Janny is a very keen gardener, with an encyclopaedic knowledge of Australian bush trees, and grew most of our fruit and vegetables at the farm, from oranges, apples and lemons to tomatoes, spinach and carrots. Robbie learnt how to plant the produce and recognise when they were ready to be harvested. As a toddler his best intentions in weeding would occasionally result in good vegetable plants being pulled out. We always tried to see the humorous side of these mistakes so as not to dampen his enthusiasm.

I also showed the children where our meat comes from. We killed our own sheep for meat. After the children had watched me skin and butcher a couple of sheep, I explained the anatomy and functions of the body’s vital internal organs such as the heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, stomach and intestines. I felt it was important they have this knowledge in order to understand the physiology of these vital organs in their own bodies. There is no end to the learning experiences and excitement to be had on a farm.

Robbie loved to get together with his cousins. He was always excited as soon as he heard we were going to visit his cousins on my sister’s side who lived at Mount Selwyn ski resort, and those on Janny’s side who lived on rural properties on the Monaro, near Cooma.

I taught Robbie how to use a rifle, marksmanship skills and firearms safety. It is essential for rural life to have this knowledge.

There is a great tradition in the Australian Army, especially in the infantry, of recruiting soldiers who come from farming and other rural families or isolated communities. These soldiers bring particular life skills that children from the cities rarely get the chance to develop while growing up.

Robbie received all his education, from kindergarten to year 12, at Canberra Grammar School. Even though our Canberra home, in the suburb of Garran, was only ten minutes from the school, Robbie boarded at Grammar for his last three years because he had formed very close friendships with boarders from rural properties. We still saw plenty of him because he came home at weekends. As a senior student, Robbie mentored the new boys in his boarding house. Boarding instilled a degree of independence and responsibility in him that turned out to be of great assistance when he joined the Army.

Robbie was not an academic genius but was of above-average intelligence and a very good all-round athlete. He exercised great judgment and common sense and had a moral compass far ahead of his age. He captained the open grade Third Fifteen Rugby football team, playing five-eighth, and he regularly played as a reserve with the Second Fifteen. In his final year, Robbie was awarded House Colours and the Mark Sowell Award for Outdoor Education. He was presented with his football team’s Players’ Player award. He loved running and won the open 800-metre event in the athletic carnival and came second in the cross-country.

After he left school, Robbie wanted to spend a year at home with Janny and me, working during the week at the Canberra Zoo and other casual jobs in the building industry, while deciding on his future career path. One day when we were all at the farm, he said to Janny and me, ‘Please do not ever sell this farm. I want to bring my wife and children here to enjoy the life I have enjoyed here.’

Robbie had developed a keen interest in viticulture as a subject at school, so we planted a small vineyard of about 200 vines. They needed to become established for two years before bearing fruit, and Robbie trained and pruned them along the cordon wire. Sadly, he didn’t live to see the first harvest.

During his ‘gap’ year at home, Robbie also became very interested in the history of our family’s military service.

At the outbreak of World War One, Robbie’s greatgrandfather (my grandfather and namesake), Dr Hugh Poate, a Macquarie Street surgeon, volunteered with the Army Medical Corps. He went with the 1st Division of the Australian Infantry Force to Cairo to help establish medical facilities for the wounded. He went ashore at Gallipoli with the first wave of Australian troops. His commanding officer was a fellow surgeon, Colonel Neville Howse VC (later Major General Sir Neville Howse VC).

Soon after arriving at Gallipoli, my grandfather and another doctor, together with only 20 medical orderlies, accompanied 500 seriously wounded troops to Alexandria in a hospital ship. My grandfather performed 30 amputations during that voyage. Returning to Gallipoli, he performed life-saving operations on wounded soldiers at a beach dressing station while under constant fire. He left Gallipoli with the last wave during the final evacuation. He was then sent to the British casualty clearing station at Provins during heavy fighting at Ypres. In World War Two he joined the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) as chief surgeon, with the rank of Group Captain. He was later knighted for his services to medicine and the St John Ambulance Australia.

My father had contracted polio as a child, which left him with a withered left arm. He was unable to volunteer for the regular Army but was a sergeant in the Volunteer Defence Corps from 1943 to 1946. His brother, my uncle John Poate, joined the RAAF in 1941 and became a Spitfire pilot. He was later seconded to the British Royal Air Force in 451 Squadron. On 27 July 1944, while escorting American B-26 bombers over Turin, Italy, John was shot down by ground fire when his section of four Spitfires from the escort of 12 dived to strafe German fighter aircraft parked on Turin aerodrome. He survived a crash-landing to spend the last ten months of the war in a German prisoner-of-war camp, Stalag Luft One, on the coast of the Baltic Sea.

Then there was Robbie’s great-uncle Gordon King who married my father’s sister Jeannette. Gordon led the 2/6 Commando Squadron in New Guinea, the ‘Purple Devils’ Independent Company. He was awarded the DSO, a decoration second only to the VC, for gallantry and leadership under fire in the two-day Battle of Kaiapit in 1943. Shot through the leg on the first day, he continued to lead his squadron from the front. With ammunition running critically low, on the second day he led his men in a bayonet charge against a vastly superior force; 143 Japanese were killed and the airfield at Kaiapit was then in Australian hands. This allowed the 7th Division to fly rather than walk up the Markham Valley.

There was military history on the other side of the family too, as Robbie’s grandfather Nick Wassink, Janny’s father, was a member of the Dutch occupation forces in Indonesia.

I had some experience of military service myself. When I left school in 1967, Australia was at war in Vietnam (1962–72). The legendary Battle of Long Tan had taken place on 18 August the previous year. National Service had been introduced in 1964 and it was compulsory to register for conscription in your 20th year. Twice a year, marbles were drawn from a barrel in a televised event, like a lottery, and if your birth date was drawn, you had to join the Army for two years or face jail. Fortunately, my marble was not drawn, so I was able to continue my four-year university degree in agricultural economics.

At university I got to know students who had returned as conscripts from Vietnam. Although they were the same age as me, they appeared to be ten years older. They were quiet and withdrawn, seeming to have old men’s heads on their young shoulders. I thought conscription on a lottery basis was grossly unfair; if the war was worth fighting it should have been one in, all in. Like lemmings, Australia had followed the US over a cliff in an unprovoked and unnecessary war.

Australia lost 521 men killed in action in Vietnam and more than 3000 were wounded. All together, 63 000 men were conscripted for national service from 1965 to 1972. Of this number, 19 000 conscripts served in Vietnam of whom 202 were killed and 1279 were wounded.¹ The US toll was 60 000 killed in action. It was a terrible time in the history of both nations. But, judging from our later experience in Afghanistan, it seems that few, if any, lessons had been learnt.

After graduating from university, I thought I should do my bit, so I began a 12-month officer training course with the Citizen Military Forces, today’s Army Reserve. My officer training course was conducted at the Officer Cadet Training Unit (OCTU) at Ingleburn, Sydney. The commanding officer was Lieutenant Colonel Sandy MacGregor MC who had been decorated for bravery in tunnel conflicts. He was in the Corps of Engineers and, as a young Captain in Vietnam, was responsible for locating booby traps and Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs). He was the first to discover a Vietcong underground tunnel. He had one of his men hold his legs and lower him into the tunnel. He was a born leader and told us he would never ask any of his men to do what he hadn’t. He trained a company known as the Tunnel Rats and devised a method to find adjoining entry/exit points by blowing smoke into the tunnels, then clearing the tunnels with tear gas or explosives.

I withdrew from OCTU after nine months, however, because I was enjoying my new-found freedoms after years of studying and did not want to commit to the Army for four years after being commissioned. Furthermore, I could not see any more wars on the horizon. It had been said that World War One was the war to end all wars, but it wasn’t. I thought the Vietnam War was the war to end all wars, but it turns out it wasn’t either. Nevertheless, my short period at OCTU under Sandy MacGregor’s command left me with an indelible imprint of leadership. I thought all officers would be leaders of the same calibre. Robbie’s death in Afghanistan and my experiences with the Army afterwards revealed that there are likely to be few commissioned officers in the Australian Army of the high calibre of Sandy MacGregor.

Robbie absorbed all these military stories. His family background and love of adventure and the outdoor life, particularly camping, fishing and competition rifle shooting, led him to consider joining the Army. After reading books on various military campaigns and undertaking background research on the Australian Defence Force (ADF) website, he decided to enlist. As all Janny’s and my descendants who served in earlier wars had come back alive, neither Janny nor I envisaged that Robbie would become part of the ANZAC legend by having his name added to the Roll of Honour at the Australian War Memorial as one of the 102 800 killed in action in military service for this country.

In 2008, Robbie applied for direct entry to the Royal Military College (RMC) Duntroon for officer training. He easily satisfied the aptitude, psychological, physical and medical tests. His next step, in September that year, was to appear before a panel comprising the Commandant of RMC and other officers to deliver a short address and answer questions.

He was asked why, given his obvious intelligence, he had applied for direct entry to RMC Duntroon rather than the Australian Defence Force Academy, where he could study for a university degree first. ‘I have had enough of study for a while and want to get straight into action,’ he told them. Australia is at war.’

Afterwards, the Commandant drew Robbie aside and told him his answer to this question had disqualified him from selection for officer training, because an officer is always studying and learning. However, the Commandant told Robbie his strong leadership qualities were obvious and suggested that he enlist as a recruit and reapply in two years’ time if he was still interested in becoming an officer. He also told Robbie that the best officers come from the non-commissioned ranks. In my opinion, Major General John Cantwell is a fine testament to this statement. Robbie followed this advice and enlisted in the regular Army on 24 February 2009.

All recruits to the Australian Army who are not officer cadets begin their training at the Army Recruit Training Centre at Kapooka, near Wagga Wagga in New South Wales. Most recruits do not realise that the enlistment document they sign is actually a four-year contract, but they soon find out.

When recruits enlist, they are still in their formative years and usually under the general guidance of their parents for their upbringing. This responsibility is taken over by the Army upon recruitment. The first week of training is always a huge shock to the new recruits. They must do what they are told without question, they must get from A to B on time, they must dress neatly and, through all this, they are yelled at constantly. This is a deliberate tactic to test their resilience and train them to deal with stress. War is stressful. Many recruits want to opt out in the first fortnight at Kapooka but are frequently reminded that they are the property of the Australian Army for the next four years, so they must get used to the Army’s ways. They are also reminded that they joined the Army; the Army did not join them.

It is well recognised that Australian soldiers are among the best in the world. Most of their training is provided by experienced soldiers who hold the rank of Corporal, not by officers. During the first week many recruits mistakenly address a male Corporal as ‘sir’ rather than ‘Corporal’. The standard response from the Corporal is, ‘Don’t call me sir, I work for a living.’ (Only male officers are addressed as ‘sir’, female officers as ‘ma’am’.)

The recruits have their heads shaved and wear the same uniform to eliminate all differentiation on the basis of socioeconomic background, education, ethnicity and religious affiliation (if any). They are often thousands of kilometres from home for the first time. Their mobile phones are confiscated. They are not permitted visits by members of their family.

Many recruits become very homesick. Robbie certainly did, and he found the harsh reality of Army training very different from the romantic portrayal he had read about on the Defence website. When he talked to me about this, I explained to him there is good reason behind the ruthless manner of recruit training: to breed tough soldiers who can handle incredible hardships in living conditions, the deaths of enemies and fellow soldiers, and the critical requirement to look after each other.

The recruits soon learn to rely on each other for mutual support. From day one they are taught to work as a team, because each soldier is dependent on the others for survival in battle. Each becomes multi-skilled with a range of weapons systems, tactics, techniques and procedures. Each has a job to do; failure could cost the life of another team member. If one stuffs up, the whole squad is punished. This creates peer-group pressure to help slow or reluctant learners. In turn, this interdependency results in close bonds and the soldiers become members of the same Army ‘family’. Lifelong friendships are formed. When a soldier is killed in action, it is felt by all as the death of a family member.

The only means of communication with home for the first month is ‘snail mail’, which is handed out to recipients while they are in platoon formation. Janny and I both wrote to Robbie during the second week of his recruit training.

His first letter home to us began:

Dearest Mum, Dad, Nicola, Rubin [his cat] and Thumper [Nicola’s pet rabbit]. Thank you for the letters you sent me. I was handed them last night before bed and it is great to hear what is going on in the real world. It was quite funny when the section commander was handing out your letters. He called me for my first letter, then when my second letter came along he said, ‘Fucking hell, Poate, have you been writing letters to yourself!’

Soldiers are taught that officers are the intelligentsia of the ADF. They have been trained to be leaders. Respect for authority throughout the chain of command is essential and is drummed into recruits. They show respect for officers by a salute when an officer addresses them or simply walks past them. Officers prepare the battle plans and logistics to get troops to war, coordinate specialised units during war, sustain them and get them home from war. Officers liaise with their counterparts in joint multinational military operations. The lives of soldiers during war are largely dependent on officers’ decisions. In some respects they perform the role of surrogate parents, even though junior officers can be younger than the soldiers under their command. However, soldiers rarely see officers except on parades and military exercises. I have learnt that the structure and administration of the Australian Army has changed very little over the past 100 years and is still very much a feudal system.

One highly visible aspect of that feudal system is the food served to soldiers. For some inexplicable reason, instead of Army cooks preparing their meals, private providers are subcontracted with a buffet service. At home bases, officers eat in a separate, more up-market officers’ mess, with no restriction on the quantity that can be put on a plate. This is not the case with recruits. Robbie told us the food was nowhere near the quality or quantity that Janny served him at home, with every soldier allocated the same amount regardless of their size or the level of physical activity being undertaken, and they were so busy that there was often insufficient time to finish their meals. At breakfast, he said, a member of the catering staff would ensure you only took one rasher of bacon. A couple of months into his training, Janny and I first visited Robbie in Wagga. He had become so skinny that we barely recognised him. I mentioned the old aphorism about an army marching on its stomach. Robbie laughed, and said, ‘I think they have forgotten that one.’ I have subsequently learnt that food was provided by Army cooks only when the soldiers were on field exercises or while at large forward operating bases during their time at war in Afghanistan. Soldiers survived on ration packs when staying at small patrol bases for short missions.

Following three months’ basic training at Kapooka, recruits attain the rank of Private and are then assigned to undertake specialist training in their chosen corps. This could be in the infantry, artillery, intelligence or as engineers, and so forth. Robbie chose infantry: he wanted to be where the action was. On 15 May 2009 Janny, Nicola and I attended his march-out parade at Kapooka.

His best friend at Kapooka was James Osborne, known as Ozzie. Every soldier is given a nickname by their peers. It is usually the surname with a ‘y’ or ‘ie’ added to the end. That’s why Robbie was known as Poatey. After Kapooka, Ozzie and