LIVIN G & LE ARNING


I


will never know Private Mervyn Wilson. He was an Australian soldier in his late twenties who on January 8, 1966, was killed by


a sniper in the Vietnam War. However, unlikely as it may be, a repatriation event of historical significance has connected Mervyn and myself. On 2nd June, 2016, around 11:30am


at the Royal Australian Air force (RAAF) air base at Richmond, Sydney, over 50 years after Mervyn died, I was one of 33 funeral directors standing still and straight, right-hand-over-left-hand, at the rear passenger end of their hearses. It was a sunny, early winter day. In the far distance, majestic,


cumulous clouds billowed across a blue sky. Sounds from the private ceremony coming to a close inside one of the nearby airbase hangars – attended by relatives of the deceased, the Governor-General and dignitaries – drifted gently across to us through the windless air. About 50 metres from where I stood,


two mighty C-17 Hercules aircraft – used to transport the remains of 33 deceased Australian war veterans, servicemen and their dependants from cemeteries in Malaysia and Singapore – sat on the runway with their loading ramps down, exposing their cavernous cargo compartments. The black hearses were arranged


AUSSIE WAR VETS – A HOMECOMING ON ALL FRONTS


As a driver in one of the longest cortèges of hearses ever in Australia I was privileged to convey one of our Vietnam vets along a route lined with thousands of people who turned out to show their respects. My experience of this event, and how I felt about the man I transported, was to evolve into something unexpected.


by Stephen Denham 22 JULY 2016


in three rows of eleven on the vast asphalt apron of the air base. Teams of Australian Defence Force men and women – six bearers and one officer- in-charge assigned to each one of the 33 coffins draped with the Australian flag; led by a chaplain, lone piper and drummer – then began their ceremonial march toward the hearses. I’d seen the surname Wilson on my


run sheet, but extensive rehearsals for the event over the previous three days had all but erased that detail from mind. After the team of bearers had lowered, I pushed the wooden casket forward over the roller bar into the back of the hearse, tightened the locking device and stepped back into position, still facing inwards. As I awaited the command to close the tailgate, the sun’s reflection off


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