1969, young kiwi working in Aussie, I find out that some of these government letters are important when I open one. Notice of draft. Vietnam.

Think it’s a mistake. No. I’ve been in the country longer than 6 months.

I can vote and they can call me up! I ring up a relative, a serving NZ Regular Army officer. I expected a lecture along the lines of ‘about time, you’ve been drifting, this will help square you away etc.’ Instead I got told “to get the hell out of there; I exercise with them, their conscripts are mostly from a pool of New Australians. These aren’t the Aussies of Galipolli, Tobruk, Kokoda and Korea. They’re from all round the Mediterranean, they don’t want to be there, a rabble of wogs and wine drinkers. Wine drinkers don’t win wars, beer drinkers do. Go down the road and join their regulars, they are different. Either that or leave, Australia doesn’t owe you a living!

I did and my birthday marble got straddled back in NZ where no conscripts were sent north, only regulars.

Respect to those Aussie conscripts who went, and to my relative who 57 years ago recognized that Australia was now a different country .