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Stepping out on a 250km trek to Crescent Head in honour of fallen heroes

Stepping out on a 250km trek to Crescent Head in honour of fallen heroes

The Advertiser6 hours ago

IT started with a knock at the door.
It was supposed to be routine.
Two police officers in uniform, responding to a domestic violence dispute.
It was about 1am on July 9, 1995, when Senior Constables Robert Spears and Peter Addison, both aged 36, left Kempsey police station.
They were heading out to see 35-year-old John McGowan, in a quiet street in Crescent Head.
The officers, who had moved to Kempsey about six months before with their young families, had no idea what they were in for.
McGowan, who neighbours later described as "just a normal bloke", had kitted himself out in sniper's attire and was armed with a semi-automatic rifle.
The police had been to speak to McGowan's girlfriend before pulling up into the driveway in their 4WD.
The two cops were carrying standard-issue Smith and Wesson .38 calibre revolvers. They were no match for McGowan's modified, high-powered weapon, about which there'd been no warning.
What happened next changed policing. It shattered the lives of two families, and sent shockwaves through a sleepy, surfside community.
And it struck deep into the hearts and souls of serving policemen across the state, including Newcastle-based, former homicide detective Pat Gleeson.
Mr Gleeson, who was on scene later that day, said there was some kind of verbal exchange between McGowan and the two police when he opened the front door.
Moments later, he opened fire.
His rifle, a modified Ruger 14 with two magazines, could fire 30 rounds without reloading.
Constable Spears was shot in the first salvo while attempting to get back to the car to radio for help.
Constable Addison made it into a house across the road, hoping to find a phone there to call for help.
"There was an old fellow in there, Noel, who was hiding in the fridge," Mr Gleeson said.
He was hiding because shots had been coming through the World War II veteran's house.
But he didn't have a phone, he told Constable Addison, because it was his holiday house. So, knowing his partner had been shot, Constable Addison went back out into the street to either stop the gunman or to find a phone to call for help.
He, too, was shot in the line of duty.
"They would have thought they were going out to a run-of-the-mill type of job ... there's no way you would have been expecting to be confronted by that," Mr Gleeson said.
McGowan later shot himself.
That was nearly 30 years ago, and tomorrow (June 29) Mr Gleeson will set off on a 250km ten-day walk from Port Stephens to Crescent Head in honour of their sacrifice, and to raise money for police legacy.
He has already surpassed his initial goal to raise $15,000, but is still accepting donations.
Mr Gleeson says by the time he got to the scene of that crime in Walker Street, a police command had been set up, the tactical operations unit was there, and Polair was in the air above.
Being attached to the homicide unit, he'd seen a lot of bodies, but here he was confronted for the first time with the murder of two men in uniform - two of his own. Family.
It was a moment of realisation for Mr Gleeson, bringing into sharp focus for the first time the peril police place themselves in every day to protect the community.
"It gave me a new level of respect for first responders who turn up to every job," Mr Gleeson said.
It changed his view of the potential dangers of the job.
There is another side to the story, which has its beginnings in Mr Gleeson's own childhood, very close to home. In fact, he says he can't remember when Legacy wasn't a part of his life.
Mr Gleeson's father served in the 1st Australian Mountain Battery, fighting at Kokoda and Milne Bay before joining the occupation forces in Japan.
He died when Pat was eight years old, and Legacy was there. They helped with school fees, ensured the family had what they needed, and always checked in on his mum, himself, and his brother Jim, Mr Gleeson said.
"'They never missed a birthday or Christmas, ensuring we felt supported and remembered," he said.
"Being a single mum raising two boys in the 1970s was a tough gig, but Legacy ensured we never felt alone," Mr Gleeson said. "That support shaped who I am today."
This is his way of giving back.
The deaths of Senior Constables Spears and Addison were subject to a coronal inquiry headed by Former State Coroner Derrick Hand.
He found the two officers had been "massively outgunned", lacked bulletproof vests, and were hampered by poor radio communications.
He was told that a speedloader, a round device used to load all six bullets into the then-standard police weapon, would have let Constable Addison reload more efficiently under pressure.
The incident sparked a transition from revolvers to automatic pistols, bulletproof vests for first response officers, and improved radio coverage and equipment, as well as state-of-the-art tactical training for uniformed police.
Both men were posthumously awarded the Commissioner's Medal for Valour and the National Police Service Medal.
All are welcome to join Mr Gleeson for the last 30 kilometres of the walk from Port Macquarie to Crescent Head.
Among those who are keen to join in is Constable Spears' widow, Kathy Spears.
To find out more or to support his fundraising efforts, visit NSW Police Legacy's website.
IT started with a knock at the door.
It was supposed to be routine.
Two police officers in uniform, responding to a domestic violence dispute.
It was about 1am on July 9, 1995, when Senior Constables Robert Spears and Peter Addison, both aged 36, left Kempsey police station.
They were heading out to see 35-year-old John McGowan, in a quiet street in Crescent Head.
The officers, who had moved to Kempsey about six months before with their young families, had no idea what they were in for.
McGowan, who neighbours later described as "just a normal bloke", had kitted himself out in sniper's attire and was armed with a semi-automatic rifle.
The police had been to speak to McGowan's girlfriend before pulling up into the driveway in their 4WD.
The two cops were carrying standard-issue Smith and Wesson .38 calibre revolvers. They were no match for McGowan's modified, high-powered weapon, about which there'd been no warning.
What happened next changed policing. It shattered the lives of two families, and sent shockwaves through a sleepy, surfside community.
And it struck deep into the hearts and souls of serving policemen across the state, including Newcastle-based, former homicide detective Pat Gleeson.
Mr Gleeson, who was on scene later that day, said there was some kind of verbal exchange between McGowan and the two police when he opened the front door.
Moments later, he opened fire.
His rifle, a modified Ruger 14 with two magazines, could fire 30 rounds without reloading.
Constable Spears was shot in the first salvo while attempting to get back to the car to radio for help.
Constable Addison made it into a house across the road, hoping to find a phone there to call for help.
"There was an old fellow in there, Noel, who was hiding in the fridge," Mr Gleeson said.
He was hiding because shots had been coming through the World War II veteran's house.
But he didn't have a phone, he told Constable Addison, because it was his holiday house. So, knowing his partner had been shot, Constable Addison went back out into the street to either stop the gunman or to find a phone to call for help.
He, too, was shot in the line of duty.
"They would have thought they were going out to a run-of-the-mill type of job ... there's no way you would have been expecting to be confronted by that," Mr Gleeson said.
McGowan later shot himself.
That was nearly 30 years ago, and tomorrow (June 29) Mr Gleeson will set off on a 250km ten-day walk from Port Stephens to Crescent Head in honour of their sacrifice, and to raise money for police legacy.
He has already surpassed his initial goal to raise $15,000, but is still accepting donations.
Mr Gleeson says by the time he got to the scene of that crime in Walker Street, a police command had been set up, the tactical operations unit was there, and Polair was in the air above.
Being attached to the homicide unit, he'd seen a lot of bodies, but here he was confronted for the first time with the murder of two men in uniform - two of his own. Family.
It was a moment of realisation for Mr Gleeson, bringing into sharp focus for the first time the peril police place themselves in every day to protect the community.
"It gave me a new level of respect for first responders who turn up to every job," Mr Gleeson said.
It changed his view of the potential dangers of the job.
There is another side to the story, which has its beginnings in Mr Gleeson's own childhood, very close to home. In fact, he says he can't remember when Legacy wasn't a part of his life.
Mr Gleeson's father served in the 1st Australian Mountain Battery, fighting at Kokoda and Milne Bay before joining the occupation forces in Japan.
He died when Pat was eight years old, and Legacy was there. They helped with school fees, ensured the family had what they needed, and always checked in on his mum, himself, and his brother Jim, Mr Gleeson said.
"'They never missed a birthday or Christmas, ensuring we felt supported and remembered," he said.
"Being a single mum raising two boys in the 1970s was a tough gig, but Legacy ensured we never felt alone," Mr Gleeson said. "That support shaped who I am today."
This is his way of giving back.
The deaths of Senior Constables Spears and Addison were subject to a coronal inquiry headed by Former State Coroner Derrick Hand.
He found the two officers had been "massively outgunned", lacked bulletproof vests, and were hampered by poor radio communications.
He was told that a speedloader, a round device used to load all six bullets into the then-standard police weapon, would have let Constable Addison reload more efficiently under pressure.
The incident sparked a transition from revolvers to automatic pistols, bulletproof vests for first response officers, and improved radio coverage and equipment, as well as state-of-the-art tactical training for uniformed police.
Both men were posthumously awarded the Commissioner's Medal for Valour and the National Police Service Medal.
All are welcome to join Mr Gleeson for the last 30 kilometres of the walk from Port Macquarie to Crescent Head.
Among those who are keen to join in is Constable Spears' widow, Kathy Spears.
To find out more or to support his fundraising efforts, visit NSW Police Legacy's website.
IT started with a knock at the door.
It was supposed to be routine.
Two police officers in uniform, responding to a domestic violence dispute.
It was about 1am on July 9, 1995, when Senior Constables Robert Spears and Peter Addison, both aged 36, left Kempsey police station.
They were heading out to see 35-year-old John McGowan, in a quiet street in Crescent Head.
The officers, who had moved to Kempsey about six months before with their young families, had no idea what they were in for.
McGowan, who neighbours later described as "just a normal bloke", had kitted himself out in sniper's attire and was armed with a semi-automatic rifle.
The police had been to speak to McGowan's girlfriend before pulling up into the driveway in their 4WD.
The two cops were carrying standard-issue Smith and Wesson .38 calibre revolvers. They were no match for McGowan's modified, high-powered weapon, about which there'd been no warning.
What happened next changed policing. It shattered the lives of two families, and sent shockwaves through a sleepy, surfside community.
And it struck deep into the hearts and souls of serving policemen across the state, including Newcastle-based, former homicide detective Pat Gleeson.
Mr Gleeson, who was on scene later that day, said there was some kind of verbal exchange between McGowan and the two police when he opened the front door.
Moments later, he opened fire.
His rifle, a modified Ruger 14 with two magazines, could fire 30 rounds without reloading.
Constable Spears was shot in the first salvo while attempting to get back to the car to radio for help.
Constable Addison made it into a house across the road, hoping to find a phone there to call for help.
"There was an old fellow in there, Noel, who was hiding in the fridge," Mr Gleeson said.
He was hiding because shots had been coming through the World War II veteran's house.
But he didn't have a phone, he told Constable Addison, because it was his holiday house. So, knowing his partner had been shot, Constable Addison went back out into the street to either stop the gunman or to find a phone to call for help.
He, too, was shot in the line of duty.
"They would have thought they were going out to a run-of-the-mill type of job ... there's no way you would have been expecting to be confronted by that," Mr Gleeson said.
McGowan later shot himself.
That was nearly 30 years ago, and tomorrow (June 29) Mr Gleeson will set off on a 250km ten-day walk from Port Stephens to Crescent Head in honour of their sacrifice, and to raise money for police legacy.
He has already surpassed his initial goal to raise $15,000, but is still accepting donations.
Mr Gleeson says by the time he got to the scene of that crime in Walker Street, a police command had been set up, the tactical operations unit was there, and Polair was in the air above.
Being attached to the homicide unit, he'd seen a lot of bodies, but here he was confronted for the first time with the murder of two men in uniform - two of his own. Family.
It was a moment of realisation for Mr Gleeson, bringing into sharp focus for the first time the peril police place themselves in every day to protect the community.
"It gave me a new level of respect for first responders who turn up to every job," Mr Gleeson said.
It changed his view of the potential dangers of the job.
There is another side to the story, which has its beginnings in Mr Gleeson's own childhood, very close to home. In fact, he says he can't remember when Legacy wasn't a part of his life.
Mr Gleeson's father served in the 1st Australian Mountain Battery, fighting at Kokoda and Milne Bay before joining the occupation forces in Japan.
He died when Pat was eight years old, and Legacy was there. They helped with school fees, ensured the family had what they needed, and always checked in on his mum, himself, and his brother Jim, Mr Gleeson said.
"'They never missed a birthday or Christmas, ensuring we felt supported and remembered," he said.
"Being a single mum raising two boys in the 1970s was a tough gig, but Legacy ensured we never felt alone," Mr Gleeson said. "That support shaped who I am today."
This is his way of giving back.
The deaths of Senior Constables Spears and Addison were subject to a coronal inquiry headed by Former State Coroner Derrick Hand.
He found the two officers had been "massively outgunned", lacked bulletproof vests, and were hampered by poor radio communications.
He was told that a speedloader, a round device used to load all six bullets into the then-standard police weapon, would have let Constable Addison reload more efficiently under pressure.
The incident sparked a transition from revolvers to automatic pistols, bulletproof vests for first response officers, and improved radio coverage and equipment, as well as state-of-the-art tactical training for uniformed police.
Both men were posthumously awarded the Commissioner's Medal for Valour and the National Police Service Medal.
All are welcome to join Mr Gleeson for the last 30 kilometres of the walk from Port Macquarie to Crescent Head.
Among those who are keen to join in is Constable Spears' widow, Kathy Spears.
To find out more or to support his fundraising efforts, visit NSW Police Legacy's website.
IT started with a knock at the door.
It was supposed to be routine.
Two police officers in uniform, responding to a domestic violence dispute.
It was about 1am on July 9, 1995, when Senior Constables Robert Spears and Peter Addison, both aged 36, left Kempsey police station.
They were heading out to see 35-year-old John McGowan, in a quiet street in Crescent Head.
The officers, who had moved to Kempsey about six months before with their young families, had no idea what they were in for.
McGowan, who neighbours later described as "just a normal bloke", had kitted himself out in sniper's attire and was armed with a semi-automatic rifle.
The police had been to speak to McGowan's girlfriend before pulling up into the driveway in their 4WD.
The two cops were carrying standard-issue Smith and Wesson .38 calibre revolvers. They were no match for McGowan's modified, high-powered weapon, about which there'd been no warning.
What happened next changed policing. It shattered the lives of two families, and sent shockwaves through a sleepy, surfside community.
And it struck deep into the hearts and souls of serving policemen across the state, including Newcastle-based, former homicide detective Pat Gleeson.
Mr Gleeson, who was on scene later that day, said there was some kind of verbal exchange between McGowan and the two police when he opened the front door.
Moments later, he opened fire.
His rifle, a modified Ruger 14 with two magazines, could fire 30 rounds without reloading.
Constable Spears was shot in the first salvo while attempting to get back to the car to radio for help.
Constable Addison made it into a house across the road, hoping to find a phone there to call for help.
"There was an old fellow in there, Noel, who was hiding in the fridge," Mr Gleeson said.
He was hiding because shots had been coming through the World War II veteran's house.
But he didn't have a phone, he told Constable Addison, because it was his holiday house. So, knowing his partner had been shot, Constable Addison went back out into the street to either stop the gunman or to find a phone to call for help.
He, too, was shot in the line of duty.
"They would have thought they were going out to a run-of-the-mill type of job ... there's no way you would have been expecting to be confronted by that," Mr Gleeson said.
McGowan later shot himself.
That was nearly 30 years ago, and tomorrow (June 29) Mr Gleeson will set off on a 250km ten-day walk from Port Stephens to Crescent Head in honour of their sacrifice, and to raise money for police legacy.
He has already surpassed his initial goal to raise $15,000, but is still accepting donations.
Mr Gleeson says by the time he got to the scene of that crime in Walker Street, a police command had been set up, the tactical operations unit was there, and Polair was in the air above.
Being attached to the homicide unit, he'd seen a lot of bodies, but here he was confronted for the first time with the murder of two men in uniform - two of his own. Family.
It was a moment of realisation for Mr Gleeson, bringing into sharp focus for the first time the peril police place themselves in every day to protect the community.
"It gave me a new level of respect for first responders who turn up to every job," Mr Gleeson said.
It changed his view of the potential dangers of the job.
There is another side to the story, which has its beginnings in Mr Gleeson's own childhood, very close to home. In fact, he says he can't remember when Legacy wasn't a part of his life.
Mr Gleeson's father served in the 1st Australian Mountain Battery, fighting at Kokoda and Milne Bay before joining the occupation forces in Japan.
He died when Pat was eight years old, and Legacy was there. They helped with school fees, ensured the family had what they needed, and always checked in on his mum, himself, and his brother Jim, Mr Gleeson said.
"'They never missed a birthday or Christmas, ensuring we felt supported and remembered," he said.
"Being a single mum raising two boys in the 1970s was a tough gig, but Legacy ensured we never felt alone," Mr Gleeson said. "That support shaped who I am today."
This is his way of giving back.
The deaths of Senior Constables Spears and Addison were subject to a coronal inquiry headed by Former State Coroner Derrick Hand.
He found the two officers had been "massively outgunned", lacked bulletproof vests, and were hampered by poor radio communications.
He was told that a speedloader, a round device used to load all six bullets into the then-standard police weapon, would have let Constable Addison reload more efficiently under pressure.
The incident sparked a transition from revolvers to automatic pistols, bulletproof vests for first response officers, and improved radio coverage and equipment, as well as state-of-the-art tactical training for uniformed police.
Both men were posthumously awarded the Commissioner's Medal for Valour and the National Police Service Medal.
All are welcome to join Mr Gleeson for the last 30 kilometres of the walk from Port Macquarie to Crescent Head.
Among those who are keen to join in is Constable Spears' widow, Kathy Spears.
To find out more or to support his fundraising efforts, visit NSW Police Legacy's website.

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Stepping out on a 250km trek to Crescent Head in honour of fallen heroes
Stepping out on a 250km trek to Crescent Head in honour of fallen heroes

The Advertiser

time6 hours ago

  • The Advertiser

Stepping out on a 250km trek to Crescent Head in honour of fallen heroes

IT started with a knock at the door. It was supposed to be routine. Two police officers in uniform, responding to a domestic violence dispute. It was about 1am on July 9, 1995, when Senior Constables Robert Spears and Peter Addison, both aged 36, left Kempsey police station. They were heading out to see 35-year-old John McGowan, in a quiet street in Crescent Head. The officers, who had moved to Kempsey about six months before with their young families, had no idea what they were in for. McGowan, who neighbours later described as "just a normal bloke", had kitted himself out in sniper's attire and was armed with a semi-automatic rifle. The police had been to speak to McGowan's girlfriend before pulling up into the driveway in their 4WD. The two cops were carrying standard-issue Smith and Wesson .38 calibre revolvers. They were no match for McGowan's modified, high-powered weapon, about which there'd been no warning. What happened next changed policing. It shattered the lives of two families, and sent shockwaves through a sleepy, surfside community. And it struck deep into the hearts and souls of serving policemen across the state, including Newcastle-based, former homicide detective Pat Gleeson. Mr Gleeson, who was on scene later that day, said there was some kind of verbal exchange between McGowan and the two police when he opened the front door. Moments later, he opened fire. His rifle, a modified Ruger 14 with two magazines, could fire 30 rounds without reloading. Constable Spears was shot in the first salvo while attempting to get back to the car to radio for help. Constable Addison made it into a house across the road, hoping to find a phone there to call for help. "There was an old fellow in there, Noel, who was hiding in the fridge," Mr Gleeson said. He was hiding because shots had been coming through the World War II veteran's house. But he didn't have a phone, he told Constable Addison, because it was his holiday house. So, knowing his partner had been shot, Constable Addison went back out into the street to either stop the gunman or to find a phone to call for help. He, too, was shot in the line of duty. "They would have thought they were going out to a run-of-the-mill type of job ... there's no way you would have been expecting to be confronted by that," Mr Gleeson said. McGowan later shot himself. That was nearly 30 years ago, and tomorrow (June 29) Mr Gleeson will set off on a 250km ten-day walk from Port Stephens to Crescent Head in honour of their sacrifice, and to raise money for police legacy. He has already surpassed his initial goal to raise $15,000, but is still accepting donations. Mr Gleeson says by the time he got to the scene of that crime in Walker Street, a police command had been set up, the tactical operations unit was there, and Polair was in the air above. Being attached to the homicide unit, he'd seen a lot of bodies, but here he was confronted for the first time with the murder of two men in uniform - two of his own. Family. It was a moment of realisation for Mr Gleeson, bringing into sharp focus for the first time the peril police place themselves in every day to protect the community. "It gave me a new level of respect for first responders who turn up to every job," Mr Gleeson said. It changed his view of the potential dangers of the job. There is another side to the story, which has its beginnings in Mr Gleeson's own childhood, very close to home. In fact, he says he can't remember when Legacy wasn't a part of his life. Mr Gleeson's father served in the 1st Australian Mountain Battery, fighting at Kokoda and Milne Bay before joining the occupation forces in Japan. He died when Pat was eight years old, and Legacy was there. They helped with school fees, ensured the family had what they needed, and always checked in on his mum, himself, and his brother Jim, Mr Gleeson said. "'They never missed a birthday or Christmas, ensuring we felt supported and remembered," he said. "Being a single mum raising two boys in the 1970s was a tough gig, but Legacy ensured we never felt alone," Mr Gleeson said. "That support shaped who I am today." This is his way of giving back. The deaths of Senior Constables Spears and Addison were subject to a coronal inquiry headed by Former State Coroner Derrick Hand. He found the two officers had been "massively outgunned", lacked bulletproof vests, and were hampered by poor radio communications. He was told that a speedloader, a round device used to load all six bullets into the then-standard police weapon, would have let Constable Addison reload more efficiently under pressure. The incident sparked a transition from revolvers to automatic pistols, bulletproof vests for first response officers, and improved radio coverage and equipment, as well as state-of-the-art tactical training for uniformed police. Both men were posthumously awarded the Commissioner's Medal for Valour and the National Police Service Medal. All are welcome to join Mr Gleeson for the last 30 kilometres of the walk from Port Macquarie to Crescent Head. Among those who are keen to join in is Constable Spears' widow, Kathy Spears. To find out more or to support his fundraising efforts, visit NSW Police Legacy's website. IT started with a knock at the door. It was supposed to be routine. Two police officers in uniform, responding to a domestic violence dispute. It was about 1am on July 9, 1995, when Senior Constables Robert Spears and Peter Addison, both aged 36, left Kempsey police station. They were heading out to see 35-year-old John McGowan, in a quiet street in Crescent Head. The officers, who had moved to Kempsey about six months before with their young families, had no idea what they were in for. McGowan, who neighbours later described as "just a normal bloke", had kitted himself out in sniper's attire and was armed with a semi-automatic rifle. The police had been to speak to McGowan's girlfriend before pulling up into the driveway in their 4WD. The two cops were carrying standard-issue Smith and Wesson .38 calibre revolvers. They were no match for McGowan's modified, high-powered weapon, about which there'd been no warning. What happened next changed policing. It shattered the lives of two families, and sent shockwaves through a sleepy, surfside community. And it struck deep into the hearts and souls of serving policemen across the state, including Newcastle-based, former homicide detective Pat Gleeson. Mr Gleeson, who was on scene later that day, said there was some kind of verbal exchange between McGowan and the two police when he opened the front door. Moments later, he opened fire. His rifle, a modified Ruger 14 with two magazines, could fire 30 rounds without reloading. Constable Spears was shot in the first salvo while attempting to get back to the car to radio for help. Constable Addison made it into a house across the road, hoping to find a phone there to call for help. "There was an old fellow in there, Noel, who was hiding in the fridge," Mr Gleeson said. He was hiding because shots had been coming through the World War II veteran's house. But he didn't have a phone, he told Constable Addison, because it was his holiday house. So, knowing his partner had been shot, Constable Addison went back out into the street to either stop the gunman or to find a phone to call for help. He, too, was shot in the line of duty. "They would have thought they were going out to a run-of-the-mill type of job ... there's no way you would have been expecting to be confronted by that," Mr Gleeson said. McGowan later shot himself. That was nearly 30 years ago, and tomorrow (June 29) Mr Gleeson will set off on a 250km ten-day walk from Port Stephens to Crescent Head in honour of their sacrifice, and to raise money for police legacy. He has already surpassed his initial goal to raise $15,000, but is still accepting donations. Mr Gleeson says by the time he got to the scene of that crime in Walker Street, a police command had been set up, the tactical operations unit was there, and Polair was in the air above. Being attached to the homicide unit, he'd seen a lot of bodies, but here he was confronted for the first time with the murder of two men in uniform - two of his own. Family. It was a moment of realisation for Mr Gleeson, bringing into sharp focus for the first time the peril police place themselves in every day to protect the community. "It gave me a new level of respect for first responders who turn up to every job," Mr Gleeson said. It changed his view of the potential dangers of the job. There is another side to the story, which has its beginnings in Mr Gleeson's own childhood, very close to home. In fact, he says he can't remember when Legacy wasn't a part of his life. Mr Gleeson's father served in the 1st Australian Mountain Battery, fighting at Kokoda and Milne Bay before joining the occupation forces in Japan. He died when Pat was eight years old, and Legacy was there. They helped with school fees, ensured the family had what they needed, and always checked in on his mum, himself, and his brother Jim, Mr Gleeson said. "'They never missed a birthday or Christmas, ensuring we felt supported and remembered," he said. "Being a single mum raising two boys in the 1970s was a tough gig, but Legacy ensured we never felt alone," Mr Gleeson said. "That support shaped who I am today." This is his way of giving back. The deaths of Senior Constables Spears and Addison were subject to a coronal inquiry headed by Former State Coroner Derrick Hand. He found the two officers had been "massively outgunned", lacked bulletproof vests, and were hampered by poor radio communications. He was told that a speedloader, a round device used to load all six bullets into the then-standard police weapon, would have let Constable Addison reload more efficiently under pressure. The incident sparked a transition from revolvers to automatic pistols, bulletproof vests for first response officers, and improved radio coverage and equipment, as well as state-of-the-art tactical training for uniformed police. Both men were posthumously awarded the Commissioner's Medal for Valour and the National Police Service Medal. All are welcome to join Mr Gleeson for the last 30 kilometres of the walk from Port Macquarie to Crescent Head. Among those who are keen to join in is Constable Spears' widow, Kathy Spears. To find out more or to support his fundraising efforts, visit NSW Police Legacy's website. IT started with a knock at the door. It was supposed to be routine. Two police officers in uniform, responding to a domestic violence dispute. It was about 1am on July 9, 1995, when Senior Constables Robert Spears and Peter Addison, both aged 36, left Kempsey police station. They were heading out to see 35-year-old John McGowan, in a quiet street in Crescent Head. The officers, who had moved to Kempsey about six months before with their young families, had no idea what they were in for. McGowan, who neighbours later described as "just a normal bloke", had kitted himself out in sniper's attire and was armed with a semi-automatic rifle. The police had been to speak to McGowan's girlfriend before pulling up into the driveway in their 4WD. The two cops were carrying standard-issue Smith and Wesson .38 calibre revolvers. They were no match for McGowan's modified, high-powered weapon, about which there'd been no warning. What happened next changed policing. It shattered the lives of two families, and sent shockwaves through a sleepy, surfside community. And it struck deep into the hearts and souls of serving policemen across the state, including Newcastle-based, former homicide detective Pat Gleeson. Mr Gleeson, who was on scene later that day, said there was some kind of verbal exchange between McGowan and the two police when he opened the front door. Moments later, he opened fire. His rifle, a modified Ruger 14 with two magazines, could fire 30 rounds without reloading. Constable Spears was shot in the first salvo while attempting to get back to the car to radio for help. Constable Addison made it into a house across the road, hoping to find a phone there to call for help. "There was an old fellow in there, Noel, who was hiding in the fridge," Mr Gleeson said. He was hiding because shots had been coming through the World War II veteran's house. But he didn't have a phone, he told Constable Addison, because it was his holiday house. So, knowing his partner had been shot, Constable Addison went back out into the street to either stop the gunman or to find a phone to call for help. He, too, was shot in the line of duty. "They would have thought they were going out to a run-of-the-mill type of job ... there's no way you would have been expecting to be confronted by that," Mr Gleeson said. McGowan later shot himself. That was nearly 30 years ago, and tomorrow (June 29) Mr Gleeson will set off on a 250km ten-day walk from Port Stephens to Crescent Head in honour of their sacrifice, and to raise money for police legacy. He has already surpassed his initial goal to raise $15,000, but is still accepting donations. Mr Gleeson says by the time he got to the scene of that crime in Walker Street, a police command had been set up, the tactical operations unit was there, and Polair was in the air above. Being attached to the homicide unit, he'd seen a lot of bodies, but here he was confronted for the first time with the murder of two men in uniform - two of his own. Family. It was a moment of realisation for Mr Gleeson, bringing into sharp focus for the first time the peril police place themselves in every day to protect the community. "It gave me a new level of respect for first responders who turn up to every job," Mr Gleeson said. It changed his view of the potential dangers of the job. There is another side to the story, which has its beginnings in Mr Gleeson's own childhood, very close to home. In fact, he says he can't remember when Legacy wasn't a part of his life. Mr Gleeson's father served in the 1st Australian Mountain Battery, fighting at Kokoda and Milne Bay before joining the occupation forces in Japan. He died when Pat was eight years old, and Legacy was there. They helped with school fees, ensured the family had what they needed, and always checked in on his mum, himself, and his brother Jim, Mr Gleeson said. "'They never missed a birthday or Christmas, ensuring we felt supported and remembered," he said. "Being a single mum raising two boys in the 1970s was a tough gig, but Legacy ensured we never felt alone," Mr Gleeson said. "That support shaped who I am today." This is his way of giving back. The deaths of Senior Constables Spears and Addison were subject to a coronal inquiry headed by Former State Coroner Derrick Hand. He found the two officers had been "massively outgunned", lacked bulletproof vests, and were hampered by poor radio communications. He was told that a speedloader, a round device used to load all six bullets into the then-standard police weapon, would have let Constable Addison reload more efficiently under pressure. The incident sparked a transition from revolvers to automatic pistols, bulletproof vests for first response officers, and improved radio coverage and equipment, as well as state-of-the-art tactical training for uniformed police. Both men were posthumously awarded the Commissioner's Medal for Valour and the National Police Service Medal. All are welcome to join Mr Gleeson for the last 30 kilometres of the walk from Port Macquarie to Crescent Head. Among those who are keen to join in is Constable Spears' widow, Kathy Spears. To find out more or to support his fundraising efforts, visit NSW Police Legacy's website. IT started with a knock at the door. It was supposed to be routine. Two police officers in uniform, responding to a domestic violence dispute. It was about 1am on July 9, 1995, when Senior Constables Robert Spears and Peter Addison, both aged 36, left Kempsey police station. They were heading out to see 35-year-old John McGowan, in a quiet street in Crescent Head. The officers, who had moved to Kempsey about six months before with their young families, had no idea what they were in for. McGowan, who neighbours later described as "just a normal bloke", had kitted himself out in sniper's attire and was armed with a semi-automatic rifle. The police had been to speak to McGowan's girlfriend before pulling up into the driveway in their 4WD. The two cops were carrying standard-issue Smith and Wesson .38 calibre revolvers. They were no match for McGowan's modified, high-powered weapon, about which there'd been no warning. What happened next changed policing. It shattered the lives of two families, and sent shockwaves through a sleepy, surfside community. And it struck deep into the hearts and souls of serving policemen across the state, including Newcastle-based, former homicide detective Pat Gleeson. Mr Gleeson, who was on scene later that day, said there was some kind of verbal exchange between McGowan and the two police when he opened the front door. Moments later, he opened fire. His rifle, a modified Ruger 14 with two magazines, could fire 30 rounds without reloading. Constable Spears was shot in the first salvo while attempting to get back to the car to radio for help. Constable Addison made it into a house across the road, hoping to find a phone there to call for help. "There was an old fellow in there, Noel, who was hiding in the fridge," Mr Gleeson said. He was hiding because shots had been coming through the World War II veteran's house. But he didn't have a phone, he told Constable Addison, because it was his holiday house. So, knowing his partner had been shot, Constable Addison went back out into the street to either stop the gunman or to find a phone to call for help. He, too, was shot in the line of duty. "They would have thought they were going out to a run-of-the-mill type of job ... there's no way you would have been expecting to be confronted by that," Mr Gleeson said. McGowan later shot himself. That was nearly 30 years ago, and tomorrow (June 29) Mr Gleeson will set off on a 250km ten-day walk from Port Stephens to Crescent Head in honour of their sacrifice, and to raise money for police legacy. He has already surpassed his initial goal to raise $15,000, but is still accepting donations. Mr Gleeson says by the time he got to the scene of that crime in Walker Street, a police command had been set up, the tactical operations unit was there, and Polair was in the air above. Being attached to the homicide unit, he'd seen a lot of bodies, but here he was confronted for the first time with the murder of two men in uniform - two of his own. Family. It was a moment of realisation for Mr Gleeson, bringing into sharp focus for the first time the peril police place themselves in every day to protect the community. "It gave me a new level of respect for first responders who turn up to every job," Mr Gleeson said. It changed his view of the potential dangers of the job. There is another side to the story, which has its beginnings in Mr Gleeson's own childhood, very close to home. In fact, he says he can't remember when Legacy wasn't a part of his life. Mr Gleeson's father served in the 1st Australian Mountain Battery, fighting at Kokoda and Milne Bay before joining the occupation forces in Japan. He died when Pat was eight years old, and Legacy was there. They helped with school fees, ensured the family had what they needed, and always checked in on his mum, himself, and his brother Jim, Mr Gleeson said. "'They never missed a birthday or Christmas, ensuring we felt supported and remembered," he said. "Being a single mum raising two boys in the 1970s was a tough gig, but Legacy ensured we never felt alone," Mr Gleeson said. "That support shaped who I am today." This is his way of giving back. The deaths of Senior Constables Spears and Addison were subject to a coronal inquiry headed by Former State Coroner Derrick Hand. He found the two officers had been "massively outgunned", lacked bulletproof vests, and were hampered by poor radio communications. He was told that a speedloader, a round device used to load all six bullets into the then-standard police weapon, would have let Constable Addison reload more efficiently under pressure. The incident sparked a transition from revolvers to automatic pistols, bulletproof vests for first response officers, and improved radio coverage and equipment, as well as state-of-the-art tactical training for uniformed police. Both men were posthumously awarded the Commissioner's Medal for Valour and the National Police Service Medal. All are welcome to join Mr Gleeson for the last 30 kilometres of the walk from Port Macquarie to Crescent Head. Among those who are keen to join in is Constable Spears' widow, Kathy Spears. To find out more or to support his fundraising efforts, visit NSW Police Legacy's website.

Son of war hero, Jack Wong Sue, in search of rightful home for WWII prisoner of war ring
Son of war hero, Jack Wong Sue, in search of rightful home for WWII prisoner of war ring

West Australian

time13 hours ago

  • West Australian

Son of war hero, Jack Wong Sue, in search of rightful home for WWII prisoner of war ring

For 80 years it lay anonymously among dusty World War II memorabilia belonging to celebrated Australian soldier Jack Wong Sue. Now, an international search is under way to find the rightful home of the silver ring Sue gently slipped off the finger of a dead Allied serviceman in 1945. Sue and his comrades from the Z Special Unit, a precursor to the SAS and Commando regiments, had stumbled upon the cannibalised corpse of the prisoner of war while on patrol in Borneo late in the war. He pocketed the tarnished ring, bringing it home to Perth when Japan surrendered and he was discharged from service. Sue's son Barry is determined to find the family of the ring's owner so he can return it to them. It would be a needle-in-a-haystack mission were it not for two clues — inscriptions on the band and a small piece of dog-eared cloth. The words 'Iraq' and 'Egypt' are engraved on the ring, which Mr Sue believes could refer to theatres of war in which the soldier fought before being captured by the Japanese in South-East Asia. The cloth, which the POW appears to have wrapped around the band to wedge it onto his emaciated finger, could hold DNA. 'This is something I feel I need to do,' Mr Sue told The West Australian this week. 'It is something Dad would have wanted.' Jack Wong Sue was one of seven Australian special forces soldiers who were secreted into Japanese-occupied Borneo by an American submarine in March 1945. Surrounded by enemy troops, the Z Special commandos teamed up with local headhunting tribes to wreak havoc on the 3000 Japanese who were retreating across the island. Acting Sergeant Sue was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal for his bravery during the guerilla campaign, which often focused on trailing Allied soldiers on the infamous Sandakan death march. The body from which the ring was retrieved was on that notorious jungle track and Mr Sue believes his father referenced the incident in his memoir, Blood On Borneo. 'Spread-eagled, each hand and foot was tied to a stake driven into the ground,' Mr Sue, who died in 2009, wrote. 'The lifeless face stared vacantly into the fading sunlight. He was only young and no older than his beholder. 'The tissue-thin covering of skin was taut all over the bone structure and the emaciated chest accentuated every rib. 'The open flesh of the buttock bore testimony to the cannibalism of his Japanese captors; they had made a crude attempt to take a slice of rump from the body.' The ring was not mentioned in the passage, but conversations with his father left Mr Sue believing the POW described may have been the owner. Historians from the Australian War Memorial who examined the ring this week believe that if the engraving refers to countries the soldier served in then it is unlikely the owner was Australian. Tens of thousands of Diggers were dispatched to Egypt after 1939 but no Australian units fought in Iraq, leading the memorial to believe the owner was British. The Imperial War Museum in London is now set to comb its records to match a soldier with the ring. Initial research shows British tank and artillery regiments served in Iraq and Egypt. The search will focus on who of those soldiers were transferred to the Pacific theatre of war and subsequently taken prisoner.

Terrorgram linked to alleged plot to kill Labor politician
Terrorgram linked to alleged plot to kill Labor politician

ABC News

timea day ago

  • ABC News

Terrorgram linked to alleged plot to kill Labor politician

Violent racist organisation Terrorgram, which has now been formally listed as a terror organisation, has been linked to an alleged plot to kill NSW Labor MP Tim Crakanthorp. It is the first time the terror group has been linked to a plot in Australia. Jordan Patten, 20, was charged last year with a terror offence after police arrested him in Newcastle dressed in a commando suit one block away from Mr Crakanthorp's office. Police allege he had begun plotting to kill the MP that morning and was arrested just hours later carrying a hammer and knives. According to the Home Affairs Department, the alleged attacker said Terrorgram, which operates through encrypted platforms like Telegram, had played a critical role in his radicalisation. After the attack failed, the 19-year-old allegedly uploaded a 205-page manifesto that cited the 2019 Christchurch shooter as inspiration. The department said following the failed attack, Terrorgram members also posted advice and instructions for how prospective future attackers could avoid the same failures and succeed in carrying out "lone-actor" terrorist attacks. "The users explicitly advocated for individuals to carry out more successful attacks through the provision of this advice," the department said. The group has been linked to terror activity in the United States, Europe and Asia but has not previously been officially linked to a terror plot in Australia. The federal government moved to impose financial sanctions on Terrorgram in February, making it illegal to financially support or benefit from the group. Friday's terror listing makes it an offence for anyone to be a member of Terrorgram, associate with its members, recruit for the group or train with or fund the organisation. The offences are punishable with a maximum penalty of 25 years' prison. Home Affairs Minister Tony Burke told ABC Radio National the listing would not be the final step, acknowledging the constant effort to stamp out terror groups online. "You never stop chasing these characters down, you never stop," he said. "This listing won't be the last thing we have to do against far-right white supremacist groups, there will be more."

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