The trip back was different to the one coming over. We were still in the army, but there was a distinct lack of discipline. On the way over, our days were filled with exercise, drills, training, rifle practice etc. Coming back we lazed around on the decks sun baking ... we spent the nights drinking and playing cards. Grog wasn't a problem ... we had all bought up big and had bottles stashed in our gear bags. Slowly the tension started to drain from us as we lazed around in the tropical sun ... we day dreamed of our welcome home ... seeing family and friends, Welcome Home Parades, sharing our experiences with the people back home ... we had all seen the old soldiers in the RSL' clubs ... we knew what it was all about.

When we got into Australian waters the customs people came on board ... we had been warned about their visit the night before. The previous night had seen an enormous amount of contraband dumped into the Indian Ocean ... knives, pistols, rifles, grenades, porn mags and films etc. But as it turned out they were only really interested in drugs ... the one thing that we didn't have ... so we felt a bit silly with the amount of stuff that we had dumped. They were really good guys and helped us out a lot. I remember one bloke had a huge television and stereo set. You could only avoid paying duty on portable sound equipment. The Custom guys asked him if he could lift it. He said "No way". So they asked if he got 4 or 5 of his mates to give him a hand could they lift it? "Suppose so", he said. "Righto mate then it's portable, no duty". As I said they were really good guys.

Our first shock came in the pre dawn of October 13 ... the West Australian contingent were loaded onto small boats and smuggled into Fremantle. We had presumed that they would be coming to Adelaide with the rest of the Battalion. The story went around the ship that they were being smuggled into Fremantle pre dawn to avoid any protests. I got to yell good bye to Boodgie over the rail of the ship ... hardly the way I wanted to say good bye to a bloke who had become one of my best mates.

We sailed around the coast and arrived in Adelaide on October 16. A Parade had been organised through the streets of Adelaide. The Parade was organised for lunch time, so that we would have a crowd. We were ordered to sheath our bayonets ... apparently the authorities still remembered the Battalion's earlier confrontations with Moratorium demonstrators ... they thought that the bayonets may have been used on any demonstrators ... they might have been right ... had there been any. As it was, one pathetic long haired freak turned up and heckled us ... we told him to piss off and then ignored him. He slunk away ... presumably to shoot up somewhere. There was a story that the local authorities wanted us to march 6 abreast ... to shorten down the length of the Parade ... wouldn't want to interfere with their lunch hour. As it was we marched 3 abreast in Column of Route as was an Infantry Battalion's right, but without bayonets fixed. Mostly there were curious looks, as if they were looking at an alien species ... and we got the distinct impression that we were interfering with their lunch hour.

We finished the parade at the Torrens Parade Ground. The Battalion was the sent on leave. The South Australians were to stay in Adelaide, the Victorians and Tasmanians were to depart by train for Melbourne, and the New South Welshmen and Queenslanders were to sail to Sydney on the HMAS Sydney.

We had a couple of drinks at our old watering holes, said a quick good bye to the Southerners and headed back to the Vung Tau Ferry for the final leg of our trip.

We were back in Oz ... but the war wasn't over ... the Battalion had disintegrated before our eyes ... and now we were left to fend for ourselves, in a land that was now foreign to us and with people who were either antagnostic to us or embarrassed by our presence. If only they hadn't cancelled the war ... we could still be in the Jungle ... still feeling like we belonged and had a purpose in life.