He was only 21, and she was 19
HALF a lifetime ago, Luke Glynn was uncertain, worried and scared.
The 42-year-old from Dubbo, then just a few days after his 21st birthday, was among the first Australian troops flown into East Timor to assume peace-keeping roles in late 1999.
“I remember vividly my first trip outside of the airport in East Timor,” Mr Glynn told Dubbo Photo News, explaining his duties as a sapper dog-handler, trained to search for mines and other explosive devices.
“I was in front of probably 70 guys and I was the first one out the door. I had to clear the way for us to get into town and be secure, so I had to protect a lot of people with my dog.
“I’d turned 21 about five days before flying out from Australia so it was eye-opening, very scary. You didn’t know what was happening, you just concentrated so much on your day-to-day.”
Mr Glynn said it was a massive change from a typical teenager’s life in Dubbo. He joined up when he left school at 17 because he was at a loose end and didn’t have any set direction for his life.
“I loved every minute of it. I became a dog-handler at a very young age and I was privileged to be deployed to East Timor on the seventh or eight plane in,” he said.
“That was a scary time as a 21-year-old and it opened my eyes to a lot in the world. Once I came back from there I went into the training side of things until I was medically discharged after having numerous shoulder operations.
“I handled an explosive detection dog. We went out and searched for not only weapons but explosives, bombs, grenades. The best part about being a dog handler was that I was never alone, I always had a friend.”
A much-needed friend, he adds. With Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) so common amongst veterans, including himself, Mr Glynn supports the many veterans who are turning to horses and dogs as companion animals. Pets are empathetic and non-judgemental towards humans – veterans don’t have to explain themselves and any mental health issues they may be suffering from.
“I actually have a dog at home. He’s just on two-years-old and when we purchased him, his name was Soldier. We quickly changed that to my official army rank which was Sapper and he and I now have a bond that can’t be broken,” Mr Glynn said.
“If I’m having a bad day, he’s having a bad day. If I’m struggling, he will cuddle up to me on the couch. He just knows what’s going on in my head without me saying a word and it’s the same for a lot of veterans.
“A lot of veterans struggle to integrate back into society, the way society is, because a lot of veterans went away as children or young adults and grew up in a very different environment to what we live in back home.”
He said one of the prime causes of angst for vets is just how difficult it is for people to feel like strangers in their own country – a grating and jarring disconnect he says that only other vets can understand.
Reminders of his service are permanently etched in his daily life, with tattoos dedicated to his military service and a wristband he wears to remind himself how fortunate he’s been, and attesting to the ultimate sacrifice paid by others.
“I wear a wrist band here for Jacob Moreland and Darren Smith,
they were both Sapper dog handlers who were killed in action in Afghanistan,” Mr Glynn said.
“I never met Jacob or Darren but the guys who trained them were trained by me and I know that those boys, every day of every week, would be asking themselves “Did I do everything I could have? Did I train the dog right. Did I train them right?”.
“Every day they’d be thinking “Is it my fault those boys have died?” and this wristband is just a reminder of all those men and women who have served. There are always people left behind who have to carry the load.”
Mr Glynn’s many tattoos are a visual and public reminder of his service.
There’s a dog’s paw draped in the Australian flag because he defended this country, and that flag, with his dog, Tully.
Another tattoo depicts a young pin-up lady.
“That tattoo represents my wife, who also served, and I’ve recently had my medals put on my other calf – I want people to see that
it’s a really nice tattoo, but understand that it also means something,” he said.
“Every tattoo I have has a meaning that’s either connected to my family or my military service and that to me is the most important thing to show that what I did was right.”
Brigette Glynn is 43 and grew up in the Melbourne suburb of Cranbourne.
She joined the Australian Army as a 19-year-old, following in the footsteps of her father, grandfathers and brother.
“I started off in Ordnance in the Australian Army. I hurt my back and instead of them just saying, “Okay, your back’s gone, get out, leave the army”, they tried to rehabilitate me and train me for a role where the work wouldn’t aggravate my back,” Mrs Glynn said.
“I was fully trained as a dental nurse, a skill that I could take into civilian life as well – the army is an amazing culture.”
She served in the army for 10 years and once she came out she had more back surgery and went back into dental nursing.
“Unfortunately my back didn’t hold up and I ended up having eight back surgeries since leaving the military – I was medically discharged in the end – and unfortunately I couldn’t continue as a dental nurse, because bending over the chair trying to do suction and things like that aggravated things.”
Despite understanding so many who serve suffer either physical or psychological injuries, or both, and despite the fact she suffered a debilitating back injury and has also been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), she said she wouldn’t change a thing.
“I’d go back in a heartbeat. It’s so important to have people who will serve this country,” she said.
“It’s a lot of things. It’s the camaraderie you get from it, it’s unexplainable, you just can’t tell a civilian what it’s like.”
During her service, Mrs Glynn was sent on a course to Townsville where she met Luke and while they didn’t date initially, they went out later on for three months before distance separated them.
“We both married other people, both went through divorces and then I was stationed at Holsworthy and Luke happened to be my patient in the dental chair one day and we’ve been inseparable ever since,” she said, adding that she believes it’s incredibly important for their relationship that she and Luke understand each other as far as the pressures of life, the dislocations that result from leaving the military and re-entering civilian life.
“More than anyone could think of – we both suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) for different reasons so the fact that I can understand his good days and his bad days, because I’ve been in the service, makes our relationship the strongest one out there,” she said.
And Anzac day?
“It means a lot of things, some of them I can’t put into words. It means me remembering everyone that I’ve ever known in the defence forces, what they’ve taught me over the years. Being from a military family makes me appreciate the sacrifices made by veterans far more.
“Respect Anzac Day and those who’ve served. Ask the questions, don’t just assume, especially being a female everyone always thinks I’m wearing my grandfather’s medal or my dad’s medal, but it’s mine, it’s wholly and solely mine, ask me.
“Shake any veteran’s hand and thank them for their service.”