ADF Health September 2003 - Volume 4 Number 2HistoryFact, fiction, frustration and figments of the imaginationThe joys of writing Little by Little - a history of the Royal Australian Army Medical CorpsAS THE YEAR 2001 drew to a close I was gripped by a realisation that in a short 16 months the Royal Australian Army Medical Corps (and the Royal Australian Army Nursing Corps) would celebrate 100 years of service. What would the RAAMC celebrate and in what manner? Would the event pass with a three line notice hidden in one of the nation's more reputable newspapers? Would modern day Simpsons and herds of indifferent donkeys be dragooned into service for PR takes, and socalled Corps memorabilia of doubtful authenticity be dragged briefly into the spotlight before being relegated to the musty museums and mythology of the Corps? And would anyone use the occasion to record something of the RAAMC's genesis and its part, not just in the army, but in the wider Australian society? A quick survey of fellow historians drew a blank. What of the army or the RAAMC itself? No again. There was a languidness, almost a sense of torpor towards recounting what must surely be the many glamorous and heroic deeds of the Linseed Lancers. The general feeling was that magically something would happen on the day, that in the best service tradition the ubiquitous "someone" would do "something". I found this prospect somewhat unnerving, so I took it upon myself to map out my own views of the RAAMC's beginnings and subsequent evolution. Upon reading through archival material, I found that my proposal had not been the first, but for those at the top there were always more immediate problems or valid financial constraints. But now, armed with a blueprint, I presented myself to the authorities and announced with some trepidation that I was about to write the Corps history and would they like to be involved? This shocked the organisation into action and I was given permission to accomplish the task using reserve training days. It was agreed, in the words of a former British monarch, that something must be done. A brief was hurriedly compiled to write something of the Corps from its early beginnings and to conclude the history on the Australian Army's birthday, namely March 2001. Time ticked away relentlessly while a mass of email and letters crossed between key players. One of the great scholars of history writing of the last century once said that history "is a continuous process of interaction between the historian and his facts, an unending dialogue between the present and the past."1 In researching my book there were the usual problems that confront those dealing with the past. Where were the documents and other hard evidence upon which the work would be based, and what of oral history? What documentation was reliable? Were participants still alive and, more importantly, did their version of events tally with other evidence? Would reputations be challenged? How many myths would be demolished or reduced to a less grand but more balanced account? Questions like these are grist to the mill of historiography. Obviously much has been written about war and the medical aspects of it. Australian literature and historiography groans under the weight of many works, some scholarly and some less so, which purport to tell of the "facts" according to an individual, a unit or the nation's official observers and scholars. I did not see it as my task to revisit the popular icons held within the collective memory of the RAAMC - the likes of Simpson or Weary Dunlop and other notables. They have had their biographies written and rewritten. I felt that the same held true as far as unit histories were concerned, while my 12-month deadline precluded analysis of the massive works of Arthur Graham Butler or Allan Walker, the "great" medical historians of both world wars. Not being a medical professional, it was not my task to investigate the clinical, surgical or other medical aspects of the Corps' works. But it seemed to me that I should write something of the labours of those who led (and officers were only ever a tiny minority of the Corps) and those who served, and to show how the RAAMC changed over time. I also wanted to show that the Corps' members reflected the society from which it drew its members, while giving due recognition to elements outside its control, especially the changing fortunes of war and changes in government policy. It remains for readers of Little By Little to judge what is essentially a collegiate history that focuses on the Corps rather than the individual or any of the Corps' many units, past or present. For if anything comes out of its 100-year past it is that teamwork was the very essence of the RAAMC and its wider contribution to those who passed through its hands. Two well-meant questions are often directed to historians. The first is: "Will your history provide lessons?" The answer is that it is for readers to draw from the historian's interpretation of facts as they see fit and deem relevant to their own field. The second question is: "Does history repeat itself?" The answer is no. An instant in recorded time never repeats itself and so it is impossible to accurately replicate everything that has happened, even in the immediate past. It has been said that: "The facts speak only when the historian calls on them; it is he who decides to which facts to give the floor, and in what order and in what context."1 The historian is necessarily selective, but I hope that Little By Little is a balanced work, albeit my own interpretation, and not a figment of a fevered imagination.
Captain Michael B Tyquin, RAAMC
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