For the past year I have been subject to a reclassified employment standard, a series of letters and digits which supposedly indicate my ability to carry out my trade duties or indeed, even my suitability to serve in the RAAF. Unfortunately they have little relevance outside the antiseptic, sterile air-conditioned cacoon of medical section.
My reclassification has not crippled me nor has it cancelled out my technical experience (a commodity that the RAAF seems unconcerned with retaining). On the contrary, I have continued to carry out my duties to the satisfaction of my superiors and, most importantly, my peers.
All my medical standard has shown is that I do not fit into my assigned niche on a medical officer’s graph, a position determined by medical tests. As an armourer, I have little need to run 2.4km, pedal an exercise cycle or posses a champion weightlifters physique. I must be capable of doing repetitious, strenuous and often hazardous work while directing and organising my subordinates in the same. These tasks I have carried out successfully over eight years as an AC, LAC and CPL Armament Fitter, tasks which involve considerably more than sitting in an air-conditioned office pointing fingers at others.
Every day I work I am judged by the harshest board of all; my peers. Theirs is the only opinion of any value. They have had few complaints thus far. All others can say what they will. I look at them with the same disdain, no, contempt, with which I see all non-armourers who would judge me by my abilities.
19 Feb 91
This is a picture of the airman in question, all suited up and ready to go for his farewell back seat ride.
He was also known as "Box Head", hence the specially designed helmet he is wearing.
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