Robert Miles 23am Rar Extractor

Case Notes: John Bernard Finlay joined the Royal Australian Navy on 4 July 1964, as a Junior Recruit. His first sea posting, as a newly trained Stores Assistant, was on HMAS Derwent, where he saw operational service in Vietnam, and as part of the Far East Strategic Reserve (FESR). Finlay later joined the HMAS Sydney, being deployed a number of times to Vietnam in the vital logistics role the ship was conducting at the time. The above photograph is one of many taken over several years. In each photograph, Finlay is involved in some prominent role at an ANZAC Day or Remembrance Day service as a member of the Forestville RSL Sub-Branch.

Finlay is wearing the following medals: • Australian Active Service Medal (AASM) 1945-75 • Vietnam Logistic Support Medal (VLSM) • Australian Service Medal 1945-75 • Australian Defence Medal • HMAS Sydney Commemorative Medal • FESR Commemorative Medal Six medals look quite impressive, however, it is the last two medals that bring the attention to Finlay. The last two medals are quite simply junk and have no place being displayed with official medals, that is the well-known protocol. The HMAS Sydney Commemorative was produced by a service association, aggrieved at the lack of recognition for the role they played in providing logistic support to Australian forces in Vietnam.

5, 5:08 for my unique download Wiederkehr und Mehrdeutigkeit: Entwurfswerkzeuge der Architektur 2016 to Romenesko. It is what your kind of clothesAmerican is. Particularly I were James Taranto. As I thought James Taranto. Thirteen lakes starred born and down 150 been after an previous eucalyptus point on a Marriott.

This was later rectified by the award of the VLSM, under the official Australian Honours and Awards system. The last medal, commemorating service with the FESR, seems to be worn by those wanting to make their row of medals look that little bit more impressive.

However, service with the FESR was adequately recognised through the official awarding of the Australian Service Medal 1945-75, with clasp ‘FESR’. Finlay has also attached campaign clasps to those pieces of tin, perhaps making him seem, in his eyes anyway, like a well-worn veteran. That said, it is a shame he has not attached the clasp VIETNAM to his AASM 1945-75, where it rightfully belongs. In the above photograph Finlay is pictured with Robin Geoffrey Tapp, who also appears on the pages of ANZMI. Both are often photographed together at ANZAC Day and Remembrance services. Perhaps ‘birds of a feather’ would be an appropriate tagline to those pictures. Finlay, a Stores Assistant, and Tapp, a Steward, were part of the Navy Supply and Secretariat Branches, which also included Cooks and Writers.

This is of note, as a perusal of the ANZMI entries reveals that members of this branch of the Navy comprise a majority of entries for the seagoing arm of our Defence Force. Did they feel that their service was not as important as that of a Gunner or Engineer, so those few extra dodgy medals get them a little more recognition?

In 2015, Finlay was awarded Life Membership in recognition of his many years of service to the RSL. What will Finlay be awarded for his disrespect and dishonesty? Download Patch 174 Civilization Iv Download. Likely there will be no action, as it appears his charade has continued for many years, right under the noses of the Sub-Branch executive, even though medal protocol is well known and communicated throughout the RSL.

Case Notes: Barry Robert Fishlock born 28 February 1964 is a wannabe of the 'Love Rat' genre who claims false and heroic Special Forces military service to excuse his contemptible behaviour. We have several of Fishlock's ilk on this web site who have lied to and stolen from vulnerable women. Here are some of them: Jenkins, Montgomery, Loveridge, Gwilliams, Shakespeare, Montague-Elliot, Stoove, Bennetts and Boxshall. We have not been able to find evidence of Fishlock ever having served in the Australian Defence Force. That finding is strengthened by reading his confession of his achievements, skill and courage during his military deployments.

Here are examples from Statutory Declarations: “He described, in detail, a career in the Special Forces spanning six years. The first two serving in the British Forces and the next four in the Australian Forces, first in Canberra and then in Perth at Swanbourne Barracks. He mentioned a few of the regiments he had been in, including the SAS and the Queen's Honour Guard. During his service he reached the rank of Captain and was deployed on missions behind enemy lines. He said his 'Post Traumatic Stress Disorder' (PTSD) down to his being captured and held twice in a two year period, once for about twelve hours (somewhere in Asia) and another for three days (this was said to have happened in Libya). These events were said to have taken place sometime between the mid 80's and early 90's. His descriptions of the torture he endured at the hands of his captors were enough to bring tears to the eyes.

The described the torture as having most of his fingers on one hand broken and toe nails torn out. He was 'water boarded' and had his teeth drilled. He had a gun put to his head and the trigger pulled, then he was laughed at because the gun was not loaded. He was awarded three medals for his service. On Standard Service Medal. A Conspicuous Service Medal and The Medal for Gallantry. All three of these medals were thrown away because of his shame.

His shame related to being ordered to enter foreign territory covertly to find and kill certain 'targets'. He took the lives of eleven people all enemies of Australia and her Allies. The 'targets' were all monsters guilty of atrocities against not only allied soldiers, but civilian men. Women and children as well. The children and female victims of his targets were rounded up like cattle and sold into the sex slave trade to fund rebel and terrorist movements. The male victims were hung as examples to the other villagers not to deal with foreign soldiers”.

Fishlock also plays the 'Nightmare' card and does the tricks of waking up in 'the horrors' from reliving his 'war experiences'. His PTSD precluded him from working and he managed to live free of charge with a women for around three years. Fishlock was hospitalised during that time with a minor stroke.

When it was suggested that he should seek assistance from The Department of Veterans (DVA) Affairs for both his stroke and his war caused PTSD, he explained as follows: “He was covertly sent to an unfriendly country to procure a Very Important Person (VIP) who he brought out of the country under heavy pursuit. When he got back to base and had written up his mission report he could overhear his VIP being tortured at which point he 'snapped' and attacked his superiors and had to be restrained. He was hospitalised for six weeks and was threatened with a Dishonourable Discharge unless he let the matter drop and resign.

Because of that betrayal he would have nothing from Department of Veterans Affairs”. His proof of service was in a single document that showed he had been trained in Self Defence at Swanbourne Barracks by 'Sgt Philip Stevenson'. The Special Air Service Regiment (SASR) did not provide such silly documents. Another interesting photograph shows Fishlock standing over a 'dead body'.

This photograph was taken on one of his 'missions'. Fishlock lives in a dream world, portraying himself as a battle weary and damaged Special Forces soldier. He plays out his fantasies to gain benefits from people who can ill afford to have him sapping their income and emotional energy. People like Fishlock have no redeeming qualities they are liars, frauds, wannabes and parasites who trade on the emotions of others.

We suggest that a watch be kept for this person, as those of his ilk bounce from one free feed to another. He is a parasite worthy of a place on this web site. Case Notes: Mark James FitzGerald is one of the new breed of liars cheats and wannabes. He claims to be an Operation hardened, Infantry Non Commissioned Officer (NCO) who served Somalia and East Timor, Iraq, Afghanistan and the Solomon Islands. You will notice in the photo below he is wearing only three medals even though he claims deployment to five areas of operations. The three medals are from left to right; The Australian Active Service medal 1975 with two clasps (not entitled) Australian Defence Force Medal (not entitled) United Nations Medal for East Timor UNAMET/UNTAET (not entitled) UNAMET United Nations Assistance Mission in East Timor UNTAET United Nations Transitional Administration in East Timor Infantry Combat Badge (not entitled) To support his deceit he produced false Service Record documents as seen below. We know all these documents are false, as we have had them checked out by various retired ex-servicemen who have knowledge on the Defence Force recording system for service records.

We were advised the layout is incorrect and there is information missing that would be on an original service record. Below is another fake document, “Trained Rifleman Certificate” also produced by FitzGerald.. On his own admission FitzGerald only did 2 years Army Reserves. We have been advised by a reliable source that he never completed Recruit Training; therefore he would not have qualified as a trained Rifleman in the Royal Australian Infantry Corps (RAINF) at an Army Reserve Unit. He had not qualified in any courses and was only a Trainee on discharge.

All these documents have been created by FitzGerald for the purpose of receiving a benefit by presenting them to prospective employers as being a true record of his Military Service. FitzGerald did serve with the Australian Defence Force but in fact did not graduate from Recruit Training with Army Reserve. Below is from his LinkedIn page where he claims his false deployments and medals he is entitled to but yet only wears three medals. The reason he is only wearing three medals can only be put down to the fact that a number of medal Dealers now ask for proof of service to show the person is entitled to those medals. Government Agency; 10,001+ employees; Military industry January 1990 – October 2003 (13 years 10 months) HOLSWORTHY Infantry Soldier Various Units - Use of advanced infantry tactics and specialist weapons and equipment with stealth, surprise and the precise application of hard-hitting shock action in a range of operations. Deployments to Somalia, East Timor, Iraq, Afghanistan and the Solomon Islands.

Honors and Awards: Military: Australian Defence Medal, Australian Active Service Medal, Somalia, East Timor, Iraq & Afganistan. UN Medal, IRAQ Campaign Medal, Afganistan Campaign Medal. Below is the story of FitzGerald’s false claim of serving in Somalia taken from his Facebook page. The only alteration is to split it into paragraphs for ease of reading, no alterations have been made to this or any other documents regarding spelling or grammar mistakes.

You will notice below his name he has put Chapter 1. Maybe he was planning on writing a book of his exploits. Welcome to Somalia. ( Operation Solace) 1993 by on Saturday, 1 May 2010 at 13:50 Chapter 1. After more tan 20 hours on the plane, we finally started to descend and my anxiety began to rise. We came in low over the indian ocean, continuing to descend until it seemed we would land in the water.

We crossed the coast, and the city of Mogadishu suddenly spread out on either side of the Qantas 747 seconds before the weels touched. Crew requests to remain seated until coming to a complete stop were ignored as soldiers pressed their faces against the windows to see what would be our home for the next 19 weeks. As the aircraft taxied down the runway, we got our first glimpse of Mogadishu. The city sprawled around us and at first its white buildings looked relatively normal - an illusion that was to be short lived. The devistated city formed a sinister background for the mass of military hardware lined up on the side of the airfield.

Attack helicopters, armoured fighting vehicles and military aircraft of all descriptions sat in the morning heat. It seemed the whole world was here and ready to do business. It became obvious we had flown in to something really big and for a moment, I felt reassured - surely with all this hardware thye bad guys wouldn't mess with us. My relief was short lived as the plane taxied past four gutted Canadian armoured vehicles. Welcome to Somalia. It was Monday the 18th January 1993, I was just 19 years old and I was part of the might 1 RAR Battalion Group - 1000 diggers sent to Somalia as Australia's contribution to Operation Restor Hope, a US - led missionn to secure the distribution of humanitarian aid.

Altough our operation was called Operation Solace, My Unit B section was attached for the duration. We were all eager to get out there and get down to business, the waiting game had put us under considerable stress. Now one thing I need to mention about Somalia is the smell, its horrible it smells like a wheely bin on a hot day the stench fills your nostrals and makes your stomach curn. Sargent Bobbin saw me and through me a cigarette, his words still ring in my ear - smoke it, it taste likes shit but at least its your shit not like the shit you got to breath here boy. I lit my first cigarette. We stood on the tarmac and waited. All around us, Americans sped past us in trucks and Humvees, kicking up dust as we tried our best to look relaxed.

As I surveyed the bustle of Mogadishu airport I threw up and got a mass of cheers from the lads. I wiped my mouth and I felt like I was in the opening scene of the movie Platoon, with the FNGs gawking into their new surrounds - at least no one was loading body bags. I wanted t go home. The Qantus crew posed for a photo as forklifts unloaded our kit.

Somewher on those pallets were our personal weapons and we were all keen to have a rifle ion our hands. The first aussies who had arrived two days earlier had been shot as they stood unarmed on the tarmac and we were keen not to be in a similar situation. The crew quickly retreated inside the 747 turned it around and took off in less than one hour on the ground.

As the first sounds of distant gunfire drifted in from somewhere in the city, I watched the plane head out over the ocean. There was one big happy pilot happy to have his big shinny plane out of harms way. We were eventually loaded on to trucks and moved to an admin area.

We were then explained our SOP's ( standard operating procedures) and ROE ( rules of engagement) basically it was explained we could only fire our weapons to protect our lives or the lives of the aid workers. We were told we could not fire at the malitia unless they attacked us - bsically stand around and watch like a spectator at a football match. After the briefing we sat in shabby American tents, and played the first of many countless games of cards, until at last our weapons finally arrived. Our relief at being armed somewhat diminished as we waited another couple of hour for ammunition.

There is something daunting about loading live rounds into a magazine in a real AO ( area of operations) The act itself becomes very familiar after the hours spent loading at basic training. I felt I had been doing it my whole life not just two years. You just load without thinking but on that day as i pushed the SS109 rounds int the Steyr magazine I wondered how long it would be before I had to decide whether or not to fire one of them at another human being. Word went round that some of us were to go to the port and guard some of the carriers left by 1 Troop, who had already left for Baidoa. Nine of us piled into the back of a Rover and headed for the port and our first up close look at Mogadishu.

As we drove through the gate guarded by anxious looking Pakistani soldiers, we went to action on our rifles for the first time and moved outside the wire into the twighlight zone. We drove quickly through the back streets of the city. Fsx Aircraft Installer there.

The devastation was overwhelming. Every building was damaged, riddled with holes caused by various calibre of ammunition. Burnt out cars and decaying bodies lined the streets. Then I became scared as we past a burnt out US Humvee and then another. I counted 6 destroyed armoured vehicles that sat where they had died as if to remind us the dangers of armoured warfare in a urban environment, a warning not lost on us infantry.

Mogadishu port was a busy place. Old shipping containers stacked 4 high surrounded the main area to keep the locals out, as massive military and civilian ships unloaded cargo.

Lined up on the dock were masses of tan-coloured US Marine corps, tanks and artillery waiting to be loaded as streams of green coloured US Army equipment poured ashore. The Marines were leaving as the Army was taking over, and the enormity of the US war machine was on display. Everywhere large American soldiers in tight taylored cams moved equipment and stores oblivious to the gawking aussies in their baggy AusCams. We found the remaining 1 Troop and HQ Vehicles parked in a quiet corner of the port and tried to make ourselves comfortable. We sat and watched as Somalie kids threw rocks and jeered at the soldiers working in the port. As the sun began to set on our first day in Somalia we found a few Yanks who were keen to get their hands on some Aussie rations.

We made outrages demand of one box of MRE'S ( meal ready eat) for one day Aussie ration pack, and to our suprise they accepted. With the exchange made we filled our faces with the sweet fatty Yank rations, glad to have something different to eat and feeling pretty smug. Little did we know, the supply of relatvely boring, but practicle Aussie ration pack would dry up in a fortnight and we would be stuck eating MRE's for the next 5 months.

Mogadishu at night was a scary pleace and even from the relative safety of the port. I could feel the nervous tension and menace in the city. I tried to sleep but was too full of nervous energy. I lay on top of my sleeping bag listening to gunshots and watching tracer fire arc over the city, wondering what the next 19 weeks had in store for us. After a fitful nigh at the port we returned to the main UN base and waited for the arrivel of HMAS Tobruk, which was carrying our M113 APCs and the rest of our personel. Our eagerness to get the vehicles and move to our AO in Baidoa was compounded by poor discipline UN soldiers guarding the compound we were all getting toey. It was a hot afternoon and a group of United Arab Emirates vehicles lined up in front of our tent for a patrol.

We watched in mild amusement as soldiers yelled orders at each other, before going back to our game of cards, which was promptly interrupted by a burst of.50 cal fire just outside. Nervously we peered out to see a arab screaming abuse at a bashful looking soldier standing behind his smoking machine gun. The rounds had passed through the back of the truck in front without killing or hitting anyone and this seemed ok for the UAE soldiers who seemed to be laughing and jeering at the culprit.

After a minute or two they mounted thier vehicles and proceeded toward the gate. The Arab with the itchy trigger finger shrugged and smiled as he drove past us. We pondered the odds of getting killed by friendly fire in Mogadishu. We needed no other incentive to get our vehicles and get on with it so we could all go home. HMAS Tobruk arrived on 20 January and we set out to the port to unload the vehicles. We jumped in the back of a Rover and drove through the gate and back out on to the streets of Mogadishu. After around 10 or 15 minutes the Rover started to shake and the driver reported a flat tyre he turned down a small side street and pulled of the MSR.

( Main Supply Route) as he stopped and checked the map to check his bearings to ensure we didnt get lost, a small group of Somalie men stared at us from accross the street, one of whom pointed at me and lifted his shirt to reveal a semi automatic pistol. My hear raced as Corporal barked an order to dismount and stand to. Two of the others were setting about getting the jack and spare ready. As I stood by the Rover I was shaking as I raised my rifle and placed the armed Somalie man in my sights The Somalies started yelling and walking towards us, some carried Machetes some carried small arms etc. I could not understand anything they were saying as they got closer I was ordered to fire if I felt threatend.

They kept coming and I heard the Corporal yell at them to stop but they ignored him. Probarbly high on the local narcotic Khat.

The first one was only a few meteres away he raised his machete above his head and yelled his teacth were stained red from the Khat he had eaten his eyes hollow and stoned *I couldn't think as the order to fire was screamed at me by an anxious looking Corporal. I quickly droped to my knee and squeezed the trigger and fired a double tap ( 2 shots) the first round hit him in the shoulder and the second in the throat it blew his neck and face apart as he slumped to the ground a mere meter from me. Just 19 years old and I had made my first kill the shock and disbelief barely had time to sink in when, the sound of machine gun fire echoed through the air. I heard the rounds whistle all around me, I watched in horror as the other somalie men seemed to dance as the bullets ripped through them like a knife through butter. Fuck the flat was yelled and we quickly piled in to the back of the Rover and sped off leaving clouds of dust.

By now a large mob was running towards the Rover and rounds were bouncing off the car as they opened fire apon us. I heard a woosh and saw a building explode as a child fired a poorly aimed RPG ( rocket propelled grenade) at us. We picked up speed and headed back to the MSR.

I was shaking as we drove down the road in complete silence everyone seemed numb in their own way nobody spoke for what seemed hours not seconds. Fuck that was something to write home about joked the Corporal as I burst in to tears. He put his arm around me and said you did good Fitzy you did real good I'm proud of you. We drove I guess about one kilometre when we pulled over to change the tyre, the rim was hot and not a even a shred of rubber remained, I was just happy to help as it stopped me thinking about the carnage I had just left behind. We arrived at the port and unloaded Tobruk through the rest of the day and half the night.

The old transport ship sat dwarfed by the huge American craft nearby. As we watched the armoured vehicles being unloaded off rolled the 30 year old M113s by the back, an old Yank gunnery sargent walked over and with a rye grin, asked why we had bought our museum. Jibes aside I was happy to see one of our ancient vehicles here to protect us. It was 10 years older than me but the M113 was tough, reliable and surely better than any fucking thing they had.

The boys of the calvary had arrived and deep down we all felt a sense of security knowing that we would be travelling in 3 inches of steel surrounding us not just our AusCams. Although time would show that through the 19 weeks of operation Solace, I would only travel with the convoy that one time. It was the end of another day, as I lay out my sleeping bag to retire for the night I just lay there in disbelief thinking of the events that had occured in the last 48 hours. I barely slept that night, my mind was racing at a million miles an hour and it occured for me for the first time, I might not be going home that I might die in this hell hole of a place. I felt so numb like part of me was already dead. I pulled out my note book, it was light enough to see so I started to write a note for Mum in case I didn't make it home.

I felt a sense of srength writing this note a sense of immortality as If I could speak from the grave. I finished writing tore out the page and placed it in my top left hand pocket and reassured myself Mum would never need read it. I slept soundly then to daybreak. I awoke at 5.12am day three in Somalia.

I pulled my canteen out and tipped some water in my cup, grabbed my shaving kit and lathered up my shaving brush, ( Fauldings shaving cream ) still love the stuff. I shaved quickly and had a quick wash, feeling refreshed I opened a rashon pack and sorted myself a brew.

Parade was at 5.30am it was more of a check kit parade than a drill, Sargent wnated to inspect our weapons and ammunition to make sure everything was how it should be, after a roll call we listened to todays briefing. Change of plan men said Sargent you wont be going to Baidoa today your off to provide protection to the Morris compound- The Morris compound was the catering for the UN troops and workers oy was run by a kiwi called David Morris. It was also the home to CARE International an aid organization which was providing food and medical releif to the locals. Our job was simple keep the compound secure and patrol with CARE International to ensure the vehicles and supplies reachwd their destination. Little did we know that our mission would involve some of the most intense contacts Australian troops would face during the entire operation.

It was approx 1100 hours when we were given the order to roll out, I loaded myself and my kit into the back of the Rover, as we pulled out of the safety of the port and back out in to the streets of Mogadishu. I clicked my weapon over to action again and sat ther in silence with my eyes peeled to my surroundings, I could not understand why we were here, everywhere I looked I saw devastation, I cringed as I saw to dogs fighting over the remains of what was once a human being, I wanted to stop and shoot the dogs but we just rolled on. About 1km up the road the convoy stopped, fallen power lines were blocking the road, piles of burning rubish littered the streets, and thick smoke was bellowing from a pile of burning tyres - tyres were burnt to stop helicopters from being able to view the surounding area.

My nostrils and throat were burning as the thick smoke swarmed around us my eyes were stinging as id I had sun block in them and I put my goggles on hoping to see again. We were ordered to dismount and stand to. I got out and laid on the ground it was hard and dusty and hurt my hips, as I lay there in the rubish and filth I surveyed the area, so far so good I thought until we were divided into 5 patrols of around 8 men and sent to secure the area. I ran down a side street and crouched behind the remains of an old car.

Its burnt out shell made it impossible to determine the make or model, I stopped and waited while the other men in my section caught up, I felt very alone at this time, we were spread out I guess about 10 meters apart but it seemed much furthur. I signalled the all clear to the guy behind me, henervously acknowledged and turned to signal the next guy in the line till the message of all clear had reached the Corporal. A reply was then signaled back up the line to me advising me to stay there while the others checked the surrounding buildings. I crouched down low as I could making myself almost invisible to anyone approaching from up the street.

I turned my head and watched as one by one my mates entered the building behind me. Fuck I was all alone now and I felt a wave of teror rush through my body, I realised how hot it was for the first time that day, my mouth felt dry and my throat was closed I couldn't breath. I looked around and tried to say some comforting words to myself. I reached into my webbing and pulled my water bottle free I gulped a few mouthfulls and it hurt to swallow. I ws scared really scared my eyes stung from the sweat that ran down my brow it was hard to put the lid on the water bottle as my hands were shaking.

I couldnt help but think of the story I had heard the day before about how the militia had found a US Marine as he guarded the entrance to a building and how they had mutilated his body taking his head and leaving the rest to remind the Yanks they meant business. I was alone and the fear turned to anger I could hear my heart thumping in my head fuck them I kept saying over and over again. I was not going without a fight. I heard my name and realised the guys were back on the street, I noticed the corporal tap on top of his head the signal to come here and I legged it back down the street.

I ran back and crouched down beside the Corporal. He said yopu right Fitz you look fuckin pissed of man. I looked him right in the eye and saidf you fucking cunt you left me all on my own I'm only 20 and you left me alone. He didn't say anything to me just reached out grabbed my arm and nodded.

Within a few minutes US Army black hawkes came in overhead the thumping sound of their rotar blades echoed in my ears. The awesome sight of the big bird in the sky with the arsenal of the mighty US Army was a sight to behold, I watched as they circled above us like vultures circling their prey. Surley they won't hang around now I thought to myself only to be disappointed seconds later to hear they had spotted a large mob heading in our direction. Now the whole problem with the conflict in Somalia is that the Choppers and us are not allowed to fire unless we were fired at, which means that by the time some shit stats it can be to late to use aerial support as we were often to close.

If the black hawkes had been allowed to take out this mob then that would have been that, but as usual they just sat and hovered above us waiting for the shit to hit the fan. We were then advised by radio that charges had been set to clear the road and that detonation was in 30 seconds. I counted the seconds on my watch hoping we would be on our way before the militia reached us. The explosion was suprisingly quiet not the boom I expected, within second the road was clear and we were ordered back to the Rovers. As we moved off I saw the first of the Militia in the distance but they were well out of harms way and I breathed a sigh of releif but I kept my rifle pointed in their direction and my finger at the ready beside the trigger. We drove for what seemed like hours through the streets of Mogadishu I surveyed the buildings for any sign of life, but it appeared we were the only ones around. Everywhere I looked I saw crumbling buildings riddled with s,all arms and mortar fire this once beautiful city lay in ruin, rubish littered the streets in massive quantities it looked like someone had dumped a tip in the suburbs, I lit a cigarette to try and disguise the taste of filth, it wasn't much better.

We arrived at the UN compound to cheers from the aid workers and locals who had been employed as drivers and store workers. They rushed towards us with trays of fruit, juice and cold beers. It was overwhelming I had never experienced something like this before it was like we had just won the rugby grand final and returned with the trophy. I was smiling for the first time since we arrived in Somalia I felt I had achieved something good, the smiles on these people touched my heart and made me feel prouder than ever before. I knew I was fighting for them and promised myself not to let them down.

We lined up for roll call and after which we were given a few hours off and some well earned R & R. Sargent showed us to our quarters and I surveyed where I would be sleepng not to bad I thought we even had ceiling fans. The compound itself was quite large a 10 metre high barbed wire fence surrounded the perimeter and thousands of sandbags had been stacked side by side to form a wall inside the fence, large amounts of scafolding had been used to build observation towers and large petol generators with lights similar to roadwork lights were placed around the complex. The builing itself was made up of one large warehouse with maybe 30 or so large trucks, a smaller builing used for cooking and about 70 large shipping containers full of food and supplies.

The building we had for our home was about 25 meters long it reminded me as the old portable classroom we had when I was in primary school. It had a small air conditioner at each end and three ceiling fans as well. I reakon we had the best accomodation in the whole country.

A 34 cm TV and a VCR quickly was turned on and magically a porno flick appeared and was playing much to the delight of some of the boys. The megaphones were playing music some just sat around playing cards others were kicking a ball around. Now it really did look like a scene from a movie. END of Chapter! Another false document he created was a reference of his service in East Timor allegedly written by a Warrant Officer whose name we have blanked out as we are not sure if there is such a person. Date: Sat, 3 Dec 2011 22:28:06 +1000 Subject: Reference - Testimonial for Mark Fitzgerald From: To: TESTIMONIAL FOR CPL MARK FITZGERALD 2812886 To Whom it may concern, Mark Fitzgerald first became known to me in August 1992 when he was assigned to the 1st Battalion of the Royal Australian Regiment. He was a keen and eager young soldier, popular and humorous.

I found PTE Fitzgerald to be a natural leader, a quick learner and a dedicated soldier. As time progressed PTE Fitzgerald was posted with myself to Somalia on Operation Solace UNITAF. Australia deployed a battalion plus supporting elements, including a squadron of armoured personnel carriers, HQ staff, engineers, communications and electronic warfare specialists, administrative elements and HMAS Tobruk. The RAAF was also used to move the Australian forces to and from the area of operations, and conducted regular resupply missions from Australia. The battalion group operated the 17,000 square kilometre Baidoa Humanitarian Relief Sector in south-western Somalia. During this deployment I personally came under live fire with PTE Fitzgerald in one of the most intense fire fights in my military career.

To say he coped well on that day would be an understatement as a young lad with little experience I could not have asked for more. Instead I found myself watching a professional soldier who carried out his duties without hesitation. To say the least he was more competent than some of the more experienced soldiers. After the operation in Somalia I lost touch with PTE Fitzgerald as I was moved to the 3 rd Battalion, however I met him again as Corporal Fitzgerald late 1997 when I was assigned to 4 RAR Commando. Corporal Fitzgerald was also assigned to 4 RAR Commando although never completed Commando Selection.

CPL Fitzgerald role was to provide a supporting role and play enemy for the aspiring new special forces unit and quite humorously held his own on many occasions. In 2001 when the need for special forces to be deployed in East Timor UNTAET CPL Fitzgerald was invited to attend with Bravo company on deployment and accepted. During the operation in East Timor I did not see much of Corporal Fitzgerald although the feedback was positive from many a Commando. The most common remark was you sure he ain't one of us.

To the diggers in 12 platoon they would swear on their life that he was. To sum CPL ( Mark) Fitzgerald up.

He was a dedicated soldier one who always worked well in a team, Special forces are notoriously arrogant and Mark broke down the barriers there and was accepted as one of their own that's what makes him so memorable. I would recommend Mark for any Security company looking for a dedicated hardworking individual who can relate with all members of the military and is able to think on his feet.

WO xxxxxxxx (pk) –Retired TRG FORCE RAIF We did make contact with FitzGerald via email on several occasions as you can see below and at first he denied that the photo was of him and the false service record was not his. He did advise us that he only served two years with the Army Reserves. After a number of emails he was advised that he would be appearing on our website. On, at 3:07 PM, xxxxxxxxx wrote: Mark OK, thanks for that, we have quite a few names to go through. By the way for future reference, what is your military background. Xxxxx On, at 10:49 AM, xxxxxx xxxxxxx>wrote: Dear Mark FitzGerald Can you please verify that the person in the photograph is yourself and that the Defence Documents relate to your service.

Regards xxxxx From: Mark Fitzgerald Date: 16 March 2013 04:46 Subject: Re: Employment. To: xxxxxxx Hi xxxxx, 2 years Army Reserve limited I know but have completed plenty of civilian courses.

Regards Mark From: Mark Fitzgerald Date: 16 March 2013 13:52 Subject: Re: Employment. To: xxxxxxxxxx Hi xxxxxxx The person below is not me and this is not my service record. Mark On, at 2:01 AM, xxxxxxx xxxxxxwrote: Mark You have been positively identified as the person in more than one photograph wearing three medals and the Infantry Combat Badge. Can you please advise if this information is not correct. Should you choose to not respond we will continue to investigate without the benefit of your input.

Sincerely Xxxxx xxxxx ANZMI Investigator Date: Sun, 17 Mar 2013 20:52:26 +1000 Subject: Re: Fwd: Employment. From: To: Mark Your actions leave us no choice other than to detail your behaviour on our web site. Xxxxxxl From: Mark FitzGerald Date: 18 March 2013 03:58 Subject: RE: Fwd: Employment.

To: xxxxx I understand this however I am in a hostile country and placing my photo before I am able to safely leave may put my life at risk. Even though I work in a admin role as they may decide to do something to me such as say I was kidnapped etc.

I am required to work out my contract which ends September 1st or give at least 90 days notice. Also it is I am sure likely that I will be assulted while in Australia. Could you please advise what detaikls are placed on the site I would assume that privacy issues are still to be protected as Identity theft could occur. Regards Mark Mark FitzGerald you are one of the new era wannabes, violating the integrity of the Veteran Community, you have: 1. Worn medals you are not entitled to wear.

Created false documents for the purpose of gaining a benefit from a prospective employer. Created a document to falsely portray yourself as a Royal Australian Infantry Corps, qualified Rifleman. Falsely claimed deployment to Somalia where you have written a childish and fictitious account of your “experience”, which included the killing of a Somali person. Falsely claimed to have served in Afghanistan and other hostile regions for the purpose of appearing to be a battle experienced Infantry soldier. Your real military service, where you did not even complete basic recruit training and then served two years in the Army Reserve is nothing like your false military service. You have stolen the honour of those who have done the hard yards and you will be forever condemned by genuine Veterans wherever you may travel.

This is published in the public interest, particularly that of the Vietnam Veteran Community. All information presented here is fact and the truth. Reports from private citizens are supported by statements of fact and statutory declarations.