HIDDINS AGENDA
Bush Tucker Man Les Hiddins is battling bureaucracy to establish a haven
for Australian war veterans in Queensland. Anthony Hoy travels with a
determined man.
Les Hiddins is still fighting his war-time demons. The television star,
author and emerging brand name will always carry the memories of his
Vietnam War duty as forward scout of 6 Battalion Royal Australian
Regiment's D rifle company.
"It is interesting how you block it all out," he now says. "You lose
friends. You see things you don't want to see. You do things you don't want
to do, and do things you wish you hadn't."
Far from being the extroverted, gregarious character that comes across in
his successful TV series Bush Tucker Man (or even the face of the Bush
Tucker Man trademark he has recently stamped his label on a high-volume
wine joint venture, with exclusive sales to Liquorland and Malaysian
Airlines), Hiddins is very much a loner.
"Being forward scout is that sort of job," he says during a six-day road
swing from Kununurra, Western Australia, to Broome via the Gibb River Road,
Kalumburu and Derby. "I just like my own space."
And, while he doesn't want people "thinkin' I'm a gun-totin' son of a
bitch", he does pack a small firearm when he goes bush. "In this country,
there's no point takin' some sort of slingshot." And he notes that even his
old mate, Catholic Bishop of Broome Christopher Saunders, armed himself
with a .357 magnum handgun when he was parish priest on pastoral patrol in
the wilds of the East Kimberley.
But Hiddins is somewhat abashed that his revolver (a .44 magnum Smith &
Wesson, similar to that used on screen by Clint Eastwood) together with the
Bush Tucker Man's holster, hat, backpack, camera and radio, feature in an
exhibit in his honour at the National Museum, Canberra. And he seems
genuinely shocked to learn that he was the subject, in the past month or
so, of a question in a NSW Higher School Certificate English paper.
During our trip as always Hiddins camps alone more than a kilometre away
from other travellers in the main camp. He is not only somewhat socially
withdrawn but occasionally irritable. He doesn't wear a watch "There's no
point in worrying about time out here" and is contemptuous of mobile phones.
"A lot of Vietnam vets, particularly those who served as infantrymen,
suffer from mental health problems," he says. "And they suffer, too, from a
lot of biological problems. Many in pre-Vietnam days, the best physical
examples of Australian manhood are dying 15-20 years too early for their
age group. We were drinking water from streams in areas sprayed with Agent
Orange. At Nui Dat, we were eating 25-year-old WWII eggs that had been
injected with ether. Every day we would swallow the drug Paladrin since
withdrawn for malaria without any idea of its long-term effects. And we
were coating our skin in a mosquito repellent so potent it would eat away
the plastic on our watches.
"Vietnam vets have a saying: 'Once you reach 55, you are on borrowed time'.
Consequently, we haven't got time to play footsies with politicians."
Hiddins has never been one to steer away from a fight. He is currently
squaring up to demons of a contemporary kind, the politicians who are
frustrating his efforts to establish a tropical north Queensland sanctuary
for Vietnam veterans. Project Pandanus, as he calls it, seeks to have
unused Queensland government land known as the Green Ant block of Kalpowar
station in Cooktown shire set aside for the recreational use of all
Australian war veterans, "to enable them to rest, relax and meet up with
old mates".
Formerly a 900sq km cattle station, the property borders the coast with
extensive river frontage and inland lakes. "The troops are using it for
bird-spotting, fishing and crabbing," Hiddins says. "I've even seen 'em
watercolour painting, for heaven's sake."
Vietnam veterans have already gathered there at their first annual reunion
in August to commemorate the Battle of Long Tan. But the Queensland Parks
and Wildlife Service is attempting to thwart Project Pandanus in order to
add the Green Ant block to adjoining Lakefield National Park. Public
opinion appears to be firmly on the side of Hiddins and the Vietnam
veterans following the recent screening of the Project Pandanus saga on the
ABC's Australian Story.
For 20 years, veterans bore the brunt of a residual hostile public attitude
from the anti-conscription protests, rallies and moratorium marches of the
late 1960s. But since October 3, 1987 when 25,000 veterans marched through
Sydney to the cheers of hundreds of thousands a healing process has been
underway whereby the public seems keen to acknowledge the efforts of those
who fought in Vietnam, recognising the fighting qualities of the veterans
and that they were not to blame for the political decisions that sent them
there in the first place.
Hiddins as demonstrated during this swing through the East Kimberley, his
popularity and public recognition factor still exceptionally high has
managed to galvanise that sentiment, using his public standing to garner
wide support for Project Pandanus. He is now directing his attention to the
federal government and, particularly, Veterans' Affairs Minister Danna Vale.
He is angry that Vale did not attend the veterans' Long Tan memorial
service at Pandanus Park. "Minister Vale was representing the prime
minister at another function in Sydney at the time," a spokesperson said.
Hiddins claims Vale has rejected his requests that her department undertake
a study of Project Pandanus and its potential benefit to veterans. "Until
Major Hiddins resolves outstanding land issues with the Queensland
government [the Lakefield National Park issue], Veterans' Affairs will not
look at the project," Vale's spokesperson said.
On his web site (www.users.bigpond.com/fieldguide), Hiddins refers to Vale
as "the Little Red Hen". As ex-servicemen from an unpopular war, Vietnam
veterans have had to claw, scratch and fight for every entitlement, he
says. "And Minister Vale will learn at her cost, that the post-war campaign
is not about to end now."
Between fights, Hiddins retreats to the billabongs, lagoons and wetlands of
northern Australia. "It's not the fight or the fillet, it's the location
... you can't beat it, mate."
On this trip he obligingly rattles off all that is edible in the
surrounding bush and waterholes a veritable smorgasbord at Bell Gorge, for
instance, replete with cocky apples, the edible fruit of the Leichhardt
pine, the edible terminal bud of the pandanus palm, mistletoe berries,
terminalia fruit ("high in vitamin C"), freshwater mussels, yabbies,
turtles and bream.
At 56, says Hiddins, "I wouldn't be dead for quids". And while the modest
TV royalties from foreign screenings of The Bush Tucker Man keep rolling
in, Hiddins says he lives a fairly frugal existence "but I've got my army
pension. I'm all right".
[EMAIL PROTECTED]
Anthony Hoy travelled courtesy of Land Rover.
http://bulletin.ninemsn.com.au/bulletin/eddesk.nsf/All/4183FD6B9FBD9F40CA256C6200280300
