This is the story of one of the best practical jokes I’ve ever witnessed, despite the fact the victim was yours truly.

It was May 1981, and I was about to embark on my first bush trip or “exercise”, in the army. 161 and 173 Squadrons were based at the Oakey Aviation Centre about two and a half hours west of Brisbane. Not the end of the world but you could see it from there. I was 9 months into my military career, 17 years old and very “green”. 

Both 161 and 173 Squadrons were “field force” units which meant that in the unlikely event of a war, they had to be ready to go within 24 hours. This meant that anyone assigned to those units had to do extra skill training including exercises in order to be prepared for war. This was not something that came naturally to the laconic mechanics, pilots and engineers within 161 and 173. As a result, the bush trip designed by these guys contained many of life’s pleasures to cope with the 4-6 weeks away pretending to fight (think MASH). Sure there was plenty of serious work completed but the evenings could get quite raucous.

I’ve been involved in footy clubs most of my life but when it comes to testosterone, there were things I saw on those trips that bordered on surreal and genuinely uncomfortable. Women in the military at that time were confined to admin and medical roles. Thankfully that has changed for the better but back then, it was strictly men only. 

Even though we did our best to bring some normality to the camps like a radio/cassette player and cards (I even once did macrame!), there were primeval things that are still etched in my mind. The “thunder boxes” were all exposed to each other and devoid of partitions, which meant having to do “number 2’s” right next to a fellow member of the team. Call me pedantic, but there’s a time and place for privacy right? To execute an ablution was difficult because the seat on the thunderbox was exposed and therefore very hot, so often you had to hover your backside 2 inches above the seat which meant having to fight off a swarm of blowflies trying to extract the turd in question from your person. Not good. (apologies for the visual)

A couple of weeks before leaving Oakey I accidentally told someone in conversation that I was a virgin. I’d kept it a secret up till then because I was told if anyone found out you would be forcibly taken to a brothel. Once it was out, the entire squadron decided that I would become the “Day 5 Trophy” whereby I would be a raffle prize on day 5 of the trip, apparently the number of days away from wives and girlfriends when a sex toy-boy like me would become a viable outlet for their frustration.

I laughed it off of course, but soon after, a colleague ran over proudly carrying a couple of books of raffle tickets. They read something like this and looked very authentic:

In the weeks leading up to the trip I was constantly reminded of what was about to happen, but I insisted on living in denial.  Simulated buying of tickets and flashing of tickets around the hangar was common and extremely annoying. I was doing my best to ignore it but everyone from the basic mechanic like myself to the Commanding Officer and aeronautical engineer, Captain Motem, took every opportunity to plant seeds in my now festering brain. It couldn’t be real surely?

I turned 18 on the way up to Shoalwater Bay at some tiny town in the middle of outback Queensland. No cake, just hideously drunk then back on the truck in the morning. Once arriving at the “war zone” the first few days were extremely busy as everyone pitched in to get the camp operating seamlessly. There was no mention of the raffle until day 5.

I was invited as part of a group to visit what they called “Paradise Beach” as a special treat. The beach was incredible and inaccessible because it’s owned by the government. There was a fresh water waterfall running from the jungle into the ocean and we were flown there in a 173 Squadron Pilatus Porter, a beautiful Swiss turbo prop fixed wing aircraft that could take off and land on a footy oval. I’ll never forget landing on that beach with pristine ocean on one side and mountainous rainforest on the other.

We all brought bags of dirty clothes and quickly took the opportunity to wash them under the waterfall which in turn fell into a large pool. I was cleaning my gear wearing only jocks, when  I got tapped on the arse by a giant mechanic called “Sparrow”. “Tonight’s the night baby” he grunted. “I’ve got 6 tickets in it, so you’re mine!” Immediately the anxiety reared its ugly head.

That night it was a typical booze up with lots of laughs and music coming from a dodgy AM radio station in North Queensland that someone had managed to tune into. Suddenly one of the original instigators of the raffle, Sgt AJ Shaw yelled out, “get around men, time for the raffle.”  I remember standing about 20 feet away from where he pulled out a salad bowl overflowing with those bloody tickets. I was in utter disbelief and froze, not wanting to let anyone know I was shitting myself!

AJ reached into the bowl and yelled, “the winner is, Captain Motem!” I then heard, “YOU F…..K’N BEAUTY!” At that point I ran aimlessly through the undergrowth, through trees, spiders, I couldn’t have cared less! I was outta there! Once I reached my tent, I could hear a cacophony of laughter coming from whence I had escaped post haste. It was only then that I realised I’d been duped but relieved that there had been no uninvited intrusion upon my person!

I’m not sure why I was a virgin at 18. It wasn’t that I didn’t have plenty of “dalliances” growing up back home in Kwinana. The local girls were self-assured, tough and confident. Maybe I just had too much respect for them, combined with me having no idea. Anyway after returning from that exercise I soon got on top of things in that department (pardon the pun) but the memories of that trip are still vivid 40 years on. I could see the funny side of what had happened and it was just part of the initiation culture at the time. The guys I worked with had plenty of credits in the bank and I never lost respect for them. I doubt whether it would be tolerated now though. Different times indeed.