The Defence Department’s decision to cut funding for the Salvation Army’s much-loved and long-cherished Red Shield Defence Services has caused widespread dismay throughout the army. The federal funding that kept the 125-year-old program afloat was pulled in June, throwing its future into doubt, as the bean counters in Canberra scrambled to find cash for nuclear submarines and pricey new warships. It means there’s only two Sallymen to go around the 7000-odd troops and military personnel based at Townsville’s Lavarack Barracks in north Queensland, where five of them used to lend an ear or word of advice to a Digger in need. Retired regimental sergeant major Jason Watene, 53, a recipient of the Conspicuous Service Medal recognising his 14 active-duty deployments and 30 years of service, is aghast that the grand tradition of the Sallyman and Sallyma’am was so easily cast aside.
Speaking with the brisk, no-nonsense authority he commanded as one of the army’s most senior non-commissioned officers, Mr Watene said: “Come on, how much does a Sallyman cost? Certainly not as much as one of the new Japanese frigates they’re buying. As always in Defence, they’re taking notice of the wrong people. They need to go down to the soldier level and ask them, ask their families, what’s important. I can tell you it’s the little things that make the difference.” In this case, the cost to the Australian Defence Force was about $1.5m a year, “chump change” in a military budget forecast to top $59BN this year, noted a retired general, dismayed by the decision. Chief commissioner Brett Gallagher said the Salvation Army had approached Defence in 2021 to help finance the Red Shield Defence Services – as the Sallyman program is formally known – as it was unable to carry the full expense. The deal struck in 2023 for two years of “interim funding” covered about 75 per of the cost.
But the grant was not renewed when it expired, forcing the Salvos to reduce the “footprint” of the service. Mr Gallagher, a major in the Salvation Army, said this meant the team of 17 Sallymen and Sallyma’ams nationally was cut by five, with the affected staff redeployed to new roles. In Townsville, that meant Mr Roden’s once five-strong contingent was trimmed. Asked why Defence wielded the axe, Mr Gallagher said: “I don’t want to speak on behalf of them. All I know is what they said – that they were unable to find the money for us moving forward, and so we’ve now started investigating other areas.” The Defence Department offered no explanation when contacted, saying through a spokesperson: “In recent years Defence has provided additional financial support to ensure continuation of services. “Defence continues to work closely with Red Shield Defence Services as part of this valued relationship, including through in-kind support.”
Former chief of the army Peter Leahy, who chairs the Salvation Army Advisory Committee, said the outcome was “regrettable”, severing a “wonderful unbroken line of support” to the ADF. “The Sallyman has been on the frontline with our soldiers, sailors and aviators for 125 years, providing moral and physical support when and where needed. It will be missed,” he said. The shared history reaches back to Federation to the Boer War in southern Africa, the first to involve volunteers from Australia. Sallyman William “Fighting Mac” McKenzie was among the original Anzacs who landed at Gallipoli on April 25, 1915; big-hearted Bill Tibbs linked up with the besieged Rats of Tobruk in North Africa in 1941, before leading the celebrated “sermon in the sandhills” after the Battle of El Alamein in November 1942. In a letter to his wife, Norah, Tibbs wrote: “You will be pleased to hear that in the eight days we have been in these parts we have served to the boys 256 gallons of hot coffee, 17 gallons of tea with biscuits, 2500 packets of PKs (chewing gum) and comforts including soap, shaving soap, face washers, toothpaste and brushes, mirrors and sewing kits, underpants and talc powder. The good name of the army soars high as a result of it.”
He was flying home from New Guinea in December 1943 when the transport plane crashed near Rockhampton in central Queensland, killing all 31 on board. Other Sallymen have been struck down by illness or injured while sharing the danger of combat with Australian soldiers. Mr Roden had Mr Watene to thank for getting him close to the action in Afghanistan in 2017. The then RSM chanced across him at the Al Minhad air base outside Dubai and they agreed Mr Roden would be a lot more useful in-country than at arm’s length in the UAE staging point used by the Australians. Mr Watene persuaded his commanding officer to authorise Mr Roden to join them. So there he was, on the perimeter with the sentries pulling night duty, serving hot chocolate, coffee and good cheer while they watched warily for movement in the dark. What did he say to soldiers at a time like this? “Oh, we could talk about anything, anything they wanted to talk about, knowing it won’t go any further unless they want it to,” he remembered.
A young man might share his fears about stepping on a landmine or letting down his mates in combat; a woman soldier could open up about problems at home. If Mr Roden could help, he would. The fix could be as easy as a stamp to send a long-delayed letter on its way. Or he might have a discreet word with the military chaplain to step in. “I call myself a circuit breaker,” he said. “It’s a chance for the guys to get out what’s on their chest. My listening and support can be a great tool … a referral point, if that makes sense.” In East Timor in 2006-07, during the Australian-led peacekeeping mission to the former Indonesian territory, he was asked to speak to a number of soldiers whose pregnant partners had lost the baby while they were away. You see, he had undergone that dreadful ordeal with his then wife. The men jogged in the tropical heat, unburdening themselves to Mr Roden, a committed runner. “We just talked through what was happening, what they were experiencing and feeling, and what they could do on a practical level,” he recalled.
Being a Sallyman is a matter of love over money. Mr Roden earns less than $40,000 a year for a 50-hour-plus week, though he is housed by the Salvation Army. Mr Watene’s experience with them dates back to his early days in the army as a 19-year-old infantry private: nothing tasted as good as that cold drink of green cordial he was handed by a Salvo on his first exercise. “When you’ve been out in the dirt being bitten by mosquitoes for 72 hours straight, you’ve had a gutful, but you’re having to remain tactical and pretend that there’s any enemy out there when you know there isn’t, when you’re doing hard soldiering – it’s a difficult job to say the least,” he said. “To have something from a Sallyman to take your mind away for 10 or 15 minutes at a range practice or a defensive position … it’s a huge relief, something you’re incredibly grateful for. No one else can do the job the Salvos do.”
As for the future of the program, Mr Gallagher said he was trying to find new sponsors to make up the shortfall, a big ask given the competition for funds in the not-for-profit sector. He is philosophical about Defence’s withdrawal, saying the Salvos understood the pressures on its budget: “What I say is as Sallymen we’re in defence, but we’re not part of Defence, so we’re not part of their everyday business. “But we’re hopeful that by reaching out to the defence industry and some of the Salvation Army’s major sponsors, other philanthropic organisations, that we’ll get people to come on board. “It means there’s a lot more work to go around rather than having one major funding source,” Mr Gallagher said.
Source: Compiled by APN from media release
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