'Max' served as a Clearance Diver from 1977 - 1998, reaching the rank of Chief Petty Officer. During that time he worked within the Clearance Diving Teams, RAN Diving School and SAS Counter Terrorist Unit. He worked as a Diving/MK16 Instructor on exchange to the US Navy EOD training unit in Hawaii, and went to the Gulf War with CDT3.

The group of 23 men shuffled forward into the hot sun and stood embarrassingly in front of the cameras. Assembled in front of the aircraft hangar appeared a motley bunch, half wearing camouflage fatigues, the other half in navy blue overalls and one of them in civilian clothes, (he had been abruptly recalled from his Christmas leave).

On this hot summer afternoon in front of the Air Movements Section at RAAF Pearce Western Australia, Clearance Diving Team Three (CDT3) was being reactivated, it was Sunday January 27, 1991 and we were on our way to the Gulf War. CDT3 is the clearance diving operational team mobilized whenever the Royal Australian Navy becomes involved in global conflict, last activated for the Vietnam conflict, the team had been dormant since 1971.

This team was comprised of thirteen members from the West coast and ten members from the East coast diving teams. The East coast men had arrived only thirty minutes before and after introductions and old friendships had been renewed the teams united in preparation for the work ahead. Overnight the remaining equipment was loaded into two C130 aircraft and at 0900 the following morning we roared down the runway and watched Australia disappear beneath us.

Our departure was the culmination of immense frantic activity as we had only received the notice to move forty-eight hours earlier. We were exceedingly grateful to the multitude of people and services that had helped us get on our way, the majority of them had given up their weekend in a logistics operation that involved all three services, Navy, Army and Air Force.

Turning northwest we settled down for the long trek to the Middle East and tried to imagine what lay in store for us. Apart from the small hiccup of having one engine shut down somewhere over the Indian Ocean it was a trouble free if not tiring journey. Four touchdowns later, (Cocos Islands, Diego Garcia and Oman) we arrived at our destination Bahrain, at 1830 local time January 31, 1991.

Emerging from the plane at Bahrain Airport we got our first glimpse of war. The tarmac was a buzz with men and machinery, military police drove past in a open jeep - three grim faces and the M60 machine-gun cocked and ready, attack helicopters stood menacingly close by - crew doors open and missiles already fixed in place, F18 fighter planes glistened under the halogen lighting - cockpit hatches open and already lined up for the quick sprint down the runway, numerous C130 cargo planes were disgorging their loads and our own two planes joined in the confusion and unloaded in great haste.

We were moved into a hotel that teemed with war correspondents and whose windows were dressed in masking tape, a paltry insurance against flying shards of glass should a Scud missile explode nearby. Along with the rest of the world we watched the war on CNN while we waited for our tasking orders to come through, and it was only the occasional Scud alert that reminded us we were actually in the danger zone. The possibility of a chemical attack was very much in the news, we carried the obligatory gas mask everywhere and kept the remainder of our chemical kit in constant readiness.

As the days went by we made good use of the time by conducting workups on all our equipment. We received a rude shock when the perceived clear warm waters of the Arabian Gulf turned out to be extremely cold with a muddy seabed that allowed limited visibility. Within the military complexes on Bahrain small arms were carried by everyone and we wasted little time in getting our own weapons up to speed, making use of a local firing range we sighted our M16s and brushed up on weapon drills.

The wailing of air raid sirens were now a familiar sound across the night skies of Bahrain signaling the local populous to disappear indoors, the streets becoming still and empty, the city holding its breath until the all clear signal resumed normal living. Awoken abruptly one early morning a number of loud explosions were clearly audible from the hotel, investigating further produced the sobering answer, Patriot missiles had lifted off from Bahrain to intercept a deadly Scud intruder.

A day after the ground war started a number of us visited a U.S. airbase and witnessed a truly awesome sight - the jet fighter flight line. Fighters of all descriptions stood on the tarmac, some armed and waiting, others rolling out to join the queue for the runway, and armourers and refuellers clambered over returning planes as soon as they rolled to a stop.

Two fighters would take off and two fighters would land, that roll on roll off momentum apparently went on night and day. Carrying bombs of all types they quickly disappeared into the northern sky and hurtled towards the awaiting battlefields.

The announcement of the unofficial ceasefire marked the start of our involvement in Kuwait, from that time on things moved very quickly and it wasn't too long before we were packed and ready for a move north. Permission to move north was attained and we moved forward into Saudi Arabia staging ourselves at a U.S. `SEABEES' camp only hours from the Kuwait border.

CDT3 had approval to move onto Kuwait and at 0115, March 5, 1991 we crossed the Saudi Arabia - Kuwait border. Twenty-three men and 25 tonnes of equipment hauled on three semi-trailers and two five tonne trucks moved slowly north to our first port of call, the port of Ash Shu'Aybah, which lies approximately 40 kilometres south of Kuwait city. The closest deepwater port to Kuwait city, it was to be cleared with great urgency in order to allow relief supplies and desperately needed food and water to be offloaded from waiting supply ships.

The threat of mines and booby-trapped wharves kept the ships off shore and provided us our first task. Along with U.S. and U.K. diving teams CDT3 was to make the port safe to shipping.

Military vehicle traffic consisting of armoured personnel carriers, tanks and trucks, which had been our constant roadway companions decreased as we neared the border, and as we left Saudi Arabia behind us we had the road and the night to ourselves. Our convoy slowly moved north skirting bomb craters and wrecked vehicles, and frequently had to leave the main highway in order to avoid Iraqi man made obstacles. However with landmines being a real threat any movement off the bitumen roadway was preceded by a torchlight search of the road shoulder.

The sky was black and the air still and cold as the men on the uncovered five tonne trucks strained to see into the dark countryside. Wearing bulky flak jackets and bundled in blankets, we passed scores of upturned vehicles and charred wreckage that had once been Iraqi fighting vehicles. Though the allied ceasefire had been announced five days before, Iraqi pockets of resistance and surrendering Iraqi soldiers ensured our own weapons, an M16 and 9mm pistol each, were close at hand.

As our slow procession moved steadily forward the northern horizon took on an orange glow as the Iraqi occupation forces' last defiant act, the oil fires, came into view. We finally reached our turnoff where turning east we left the main highway behind us and started on the five kilometre journey to the coast and the port of Ash Shu'Aybah.

As we passed through an oil refinery adjacent to the port a sabotaged oil pipeline spewed flames and thick oily black smoke one hundred metres into the air. Though we passed 300 metres to the north of the fire its fiery heat warmed our faces and lit up the surrounding countryside like a giant night sun.

Upon reaching the port entrance we were scrutinized by Saudi Arabian soldiers who now held the port until reinforcement allied troops arrived. Wearied by the jostling, jolting journey we finally pulled into a large empty warehouse at 0300. Drivers and passengers alike quickly pulled out stretchers and sleeping bags and dossed down on the warehouse floor to catch a few hours sleep before dawn and the real work started.

The morning brought with it a windy, rainy day and a low grey oil haze that reduced the sun's appearance to that of a failing light globe. After a quick ration pack breakfast and a hot brew - God bless the inventor of the hexamine stove - we began the task of unloading the trucks and setting up our team area within the warehouse.

For the next seven days CDT3, working long days alongside our U.S. and U.K. counterparts completed rendering safe the port by the set deadline of March 12. Crawling across a muddy seabed, with nil visibility, in a cold 14 metres of water using our hands as the primary sensors is nothing particularly new to us, however the possibility of a live mine or worse still a weighted corpse appearing out of the inky blackness was enough to send the heart thumping on numerous occasions during a dive.

On one particularly black dark day, (due to oil fire haze) our team area was lit by portable generator run festooning and our diving floats were marked by cyalume chemical lights - extraordinary considering this 0800 in the morning! On the surface, oil contamination became our next threat, impregnating personnel and equipment alike. Hours were spent de-oiling equipment using liquid soap, degreaser and steam cleaning in order to keep the gear operational. Nevertheless when our work in Kuwait is finally over the lifespan of some of our equipment will also be over.

Not all our work is confined to the water, we also cleared wharves, buildings and ships alongside, examining them for IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devices, or booby traps to the uninitiated) and for caches of explosives and small arms. The port itself was dotted with sandbag bunkers from the entrances of which spilled small arms ammunition, RPG rounds, grenades, blankets, webbing, clothing, boots, shaving kits etc, sombre evidence of a hasty dash for freedom.

Iraqi sabotage was readily evident in the buckled cranes and distorted oil pipelines - oil seeped from the pipes fueling the greedy flames that burned night and day. Every port vehicle had been damaged in some way, mobile cranes, forklifts, trucks, utilities, not one was spared and all were stripped of wheels and tyres - apparently these were taken back to Iraq, as they are an expensive item to buy.

Unexpected explosions and sporadic gunfire from the surrounding countryside became a daily occurrence and enforced the idea that our own weapons were not only a comfort but also a necessity. More often than not it was overjoyed Kuwaitis expressing their happiness at being back on home soil, but with an Iraqi soldier surrendering to one of our team members only a few days before we were not taking any chances. Thus when leaving the CDT3 team area, no one went alone and everyone heavily armed, became the standard operating procedure.

Fortunately the insistence of the CD teams in previous years with small arms training and familiarization, and the advantage of having a nucleus of ex-SAS counter-terrorist trained divers in CDT3 ensured that not only did the team possess good weapon skills but it enabled the rest of the team to be brought up to scratch very quickly.

Whilst none were encountered inside the port of Ash Shu'Aybah the beaches to the north and south were littered with contact mines that the Gulf waters had washed ashore. Some were beaten and battered from rocky encounters, others were covered in oil, yet some were perfect and all were deadly. Each day a small party would locate and render safe a number of these mines while the majority of the team continued with the diving task.

Finding a mine was the easy part, getting to it could be a real ordeal. If you were lucky it might be on rocks, but usually it would be on the beach, entangled in lines of razor and barbed wire. Once again with the ever present threat of landmines caution became the keyword and a team member would begin the arduous and trying job of probing a path to the mine. Twenty minutes at a time was the most a man would stay at this task, after that the concentration could wane and mistakes could be made. After successfully negotiating a path through the soft sand, the cutting of the barbed or razor wire would come next - a bitch of a job. If there is one thing the Iraqis did properly it was the laying of barbed and razor wire obstacles, quite a few men wear scars to vouch for that!

After the probing and the wire, defusing the mine itself seemed a snap - but of course it wasn't. Although the rendering safe procedure of these particular sea mines is a relatively easy job, (to those trained to do it, of course) all procedures that involved removing arming switches or fusing devices were conducted remotely. Who was to say that some bright spark didn't decide to add an anti-removal device into one of the mines? We never took the chance, and although taking shortcuts are easier and quicker we laboured in doing everything remotely, and besides, in this line of work we had all the time in the world!

March 12 arrived, official opening day of the port, the once deserted port - except for EOD personnel - now teemed with media from all over the world and interested Kuwaiti spectators.

During a period of five days, the team spent 56 hours in water, and cleared 450,000 square metres of harbour seabed. USS La Salle kindly offered us the opportunity of a shipboard lunch, a luxury after ration packs, and an opportunity that none of us let slip by. However no sooner had the `Bravo Zulus' been uttered than our tasking authority produced our next operation, for which we dutifully began to prepare.

With the successful clearance of Mina Ash Shu'Aybah under our belts we readily turned to our next task, the clearance of Ras Al Qulai'ah, the Kuwaiti naval base. It was to be a solo effort by CDT3, we were to be split from the other allied diving units, complete the port clearance, and then rejoin the other units at a later date.

Whilst preparing our gear for a preliminary reconnoitre of the naval base we had a morale boosting visit from HMAS Sydney's Seahawk helo. Emerging from the buffeting rotor wash came the beaming face of newly promoted CPOCD Woodman, the able bodied CD currently serving on HMAS Sydney. Along with him came snacks, foodstuffs and “praise be HMAS Sydney”, good old VB. Everything was readily accepted, particularly as it was Australian, it was a link with home, (albeit a consumable one) which was very important to us, we were working for Australia and home was never far from our thoughts.

Not only did HMAS Sydney's Seahawk play delivery van it also got in on the act when it took our recon party aloft, successfully spotting mines washed ashore in our new area of operations. Watching the Seahawk returning out to sea we turned our thoughts to the port of Al Qulai'ah sobered at the knowledge of awaiting mines.

Thursday morning March 14, 1991 we stood in Ras Al Qulai'ah stunned by the devastation and violence. The combination of allied air attacks and Iraqi sabotage had reduced a once operational modern base to a jumbled mess of concrete and steel.

We had left our team headquarters only 20 minutes ago and headed south, quickly covering the 15 kilometres and arriving in the deserted naval base which lay 55 kilometres south of Kuwait city.

Splitting into clearance teams we commenced searching the wharves and buildings for booby traps and demolition charges. Treading lightly and with senses on full alert, we initially cleared what had been an Iraqi mine-laying factory. Buoyant mine components and containers filled the warehouse, but alas the mines themselves were going to be harder to find - all the boxes were empty!

Moving through the buildings and onto the wharves we began to encounter unsuccessful Iraqi demolition charges and unexploded allied cluster bomblets. The cluster bomblets received particular care due to the fact that they are in interdiction weapon and may explode at the slightest touch. After remotely jarring the bomblets, they were removed to a safe disposal area to await destruction.

Plastic explosives, detonators and various small arms littered the wharves and synchronised ship lift facility, damning evidence of the Iraqi handiwork that had wreaked havoc, punching holes in concrete wharves and totally disabling the ship lift facility.

The standard Iraqi bunkers were also here but this occupying force had an added luxury, in order to escape the allied bombing they had lived in the service tunnels that lay under the thick concrete wharves. We carefully picked our way through the subterranean villages by torchlight, stepping over cooking utensils and skirting around mattresses high on brick stilts that let the sleeper stay dry, perched above the two inches of slimy water that was the carpet of these Iraqi living quarters.

Blankets, clothes, webbing, shaving kits, boots, sandals etc. all left behind, obviously not important enough to be included in the final dash for the haven of the Iraqi border. Lunching in our stark surroundings we were warily watched by emaciated cats who enviously espied our food, however they were never invited to join us, disease readily evident in a number of yellow eyes they would wait and fight over the meagre leftover scraps, if any!

Just before dusk we destroyed the accumulated plastic explosive and detonators, the count on the detonators - 12,000! Satisfied with the day's work we returned to our team headquarters, the surface clearance was nearly complete and we would return tomorrow to finish the job.

Two days later the base facilities and buildings now cleared for use, we moved into Ras Al Qulai'ah, expanded now to four semi-trailers the move took all day and we settled in just on sunset.

After three long days of continuous diving we completed the clearance of the harbour areas of the port. The fact that good visibility, (up to three metres at times) made this port easier and the fact that no mines or corpses were encountered made this port more pleasant, the fact that numerous cluster bomblets littered the seabed made this port damned treacherous.

Bomblets, some shattered, most intact, lay threateningly on the sand, the deadliest stood vertical, nose fuses buried in the sand where the impact of breaking the water had slowed them down sufficiently enough to softly impact into the seabed. Nine inches of bomblet stood proud of the sea bottom the guidance fins uppermost, giving them a wide berth you couldn't help covering your vitals as you swam well over the top of them.

Hopefully you would see them before stumbling into one, and you prayed that your buddy would too, the slightest movement or jarring of a bomblet could possibly result in a detonation that would not only incapacitate the offender, the resultant shock waves could also incapacitate any other diver in the near vicinity - we normally operated 20 to 40 metres apart.

In conjunction with the port clearance our mine disposal parties continued to clear the nearby beaches of buoyant contact mines, working daily with the hazard of sporadic small arms fire in their close vicinity. On one memorable occasion a notable POCD of CDT3 began to receive incoming rounds on top of his position as he was attempting to probe his way to a beached mine. Feeling a tad indignant our gallant member grabbed his M203, (an M16 with grenade launcher attached) and stormed his way up through the deserted beach residences to investigate. Entering into a backyard he came across a group of young Kuwaiti men teaching themselves to shoot an AK47. After extolling the virtues of how indecent it was to have bullets whistling around his backside, (no doubt using true Aussie rhetoric!) they were last seen scurrying at high speed in a car, leaving a fast-diminishing cloud of dust behind them.

Once again the environment affected our operations when on occasions it became so dark during the day that generators had to provide workable light in headquarters and torches had to be used in the field. Iraqi beach defences stretched the length of our operating area and had now become an all too familiar sight. Barbed wire, trenches, bunkers, personal effects, small arms, tanks and artillery guns remained testament to a once determined force. Collection points for weaponry were set up at roadside verges and it was usual to see civilians and soldiers alike examining and having their photo taken amidst the ordnance.

It was around this time that the team received a visit from Fr. John Casey, the Roman Catholic priest currently serving with the gulf ships. Armed with ever running video and stills cameras he recorded our every moves, got so bad you couldn't take a shower without getting on celluloid. He proved to be a terrific bloke and left a day later, taking with him a record of our activities forever preserved on film - oh, and never call him Jana!

Six days after entering the naval base we declared it and the surrounding area safe for use, we had swum over 411,000 square metres in 44 hours of diving over three days, in our clearance of the harbour area.

Groaning at the thought of packing our gear once again, (our fourth repack since leaving Australia) we nevertheless commenced striking the camp, our new tasking orders already received. We were now to rejoin the allied diving units and commence the clearance of the port adjoining Kuwait City.

March 23, 1991 we left Ras Al Qulai'ah behind us, our convoy of four semi-trailers and a number of passenger vehicles headed north and emerged from the stark Kuwaiti countryside into the relatively colourful suburbs of the outer city.

As colourful as they were, (compared to the dull grey surroundings we had grown used to) they could not bring to life the city of Kuwait. Seemingly devoid of human life and with tanks, trucks and cars strewn haphazardly on both sides of the highway, Kuwait was empty.

Passing mostly military traffic we were stopped at various checkpoints by Kuwaiti militia, nervous grins on both sides eventually gave way to a friendly wave ahead once allied recognition had been established.

Entering Kuwait city we got our first look at the city that had once held the world's undivided attention. Though it was largely deserted and a number of buildings had been damaged through the occupation, the city was relatively untouched although the obligatory bunkers and fortifications stood tall.

Shuwaikh Port lies approximately 10 kilometres to the west of the inner city and it wasn't too long after leaving the city outskirts when we turned into the port entrance. Unloading our equipment, we reacquainted ourselves with our U.S. and U.K. counterparts and then settled down for a long stay. `Little things mean a lot' they say, and this was indeed true at Shuwaikh where a portable mess had been erected along with field showers and toilets. After weeks of ration packs, wash buckets and impromptu thunderboxes we were indeed graced with luxury.

Along with the luxuries came the essentials, a Marine FAST element, (Forward Area Security Team) heavily armed they were a reactionary force that manned watch posts and kept a 24 hour vigil over the diving teams, allowing us to do our job unhindered.

The water temperature had gradually warmed up in the two months we had spent in the Middle East and diving in Shuwaikh was quite bearable, visibility on the other hand was non-existent. A soft muddy bottom ensured that a cloud of silt obscured all vision and we were back to the familiar searching technique of utilizing our hands as the primary sensors.

Shuwaikh is a large port with numerous dockside cranes on nearly every wharf, but alas, some had succumbed to Iraqi sabotage. Lying shattered on the dock or keeled over at impossible angles they were the product of Iraqi demolition, others lay fallen in the water, only their twisted foundations on the dock to mark their position. While swimming over these massive structures gave some respite from the muddy seabed they brought with them the hazards of razor-sharp jagged steel.

For the first time since entering the country of Kuwait we began to see the sun, the oil fires were 40km to our south and the prevailing winds generally kept the smoke haze out of our area. We slipped into a steady work rhythm in Shuwaikh covering 130,000 square metres each diving day and when a French diving team joined the clearance it provided us with the unique experience of working alongside them.

During our stay at Shuwaikh we interspersed our harbour clearance with a number of tasks and activities that alleviated the tedious harbour crawling. The infamous `Highway of Death' was nearby and many an hour was spent surveying the scene imagining the confusion and carnage that took place when allied aircraft relentlessly strafed the vehicles. Any sympathy felt for the people caught in this maelstrom was quashed by the sight of stolen television, electrical appliances, car parts, tyres etc, strewn haphazardly through the wreckage - looters and tyrants could receive no sympathy.

The morbid side of life again came our way in the task of removing a number of Iraqi corpses from the northern Kuwaiti coastline. After probing, (for landmines) a pathway through the soft sand to their objectives, the team then set about freeing the corpses from their resting place of barbed wire. Forced to release its prisoners the barbed wire reluctantly gave up the corpses, bloated with gas and blackened by the sun, and allowed the teams to slide them into their final resting places - body bags!

There was however more pleasant activities such as the sports day organized for the multinational forces involved in the clearance of Shuwaikh. We lost the volleyball grand final, the tug-of-war we don't want to talk about, runners up in the relay race and finally victorious in the boat race, due entirely to the swimmer attack teams that harassed and delayed the opposition zodiacs long enough for the CDT3 zodiac team to paddle exhausted across the finishing line. We actually accumulated sufficient points to be declared the overall winners of the day which gave us the necessary drive to then set the pace during the ensuing refreshment consumption. It turned out to be a great day and provided a welcome break from our solemn task.

Diving with a difference came our way when we set about diving a half-necklace team on the underside of a large floating dock. Once again searching by touch became the method operandi as the large floating structure blocked out all available light. 104 diving hours later, and after covering an area of 1,046,100 square metres we finally completed the harbour area in a period of 11 diving days.

Our masters hadn't finished with us just yet however, and we were given the job of clearing a small harbour that belonged to the Al Ahmadi oil refinery. Thankfully it didn't mean the relocation of our equipment, we took the necessary gear down on a daily basis and returned to Shuwaikh again each afternoon.

This harbour had also been devastated during the Gulf War due to the fact that it had been used to house missile patrol craft. Debris and wreckage littered the wharves and harbour seabed, a sunken patrol craft lay obliterated on the seabed, torn apart after an allied bomb had detonated the two missiles kept in the forward missile tubes.

April 22, 1991 marked the end of our stay at Shuwaikh, our equipment was already on its way back to Bahrain via USN landing craft, and we were to follow shortly. Assembled in squad formation we stood alongside our U.S., U.K. and French counterparts awaiting the arrival of various military and civilian dignitaries, our own RADM Holthouse also attended.

Arrayed before us were Mine Counter Measure and patrol vessels of U.S., U.K., French, Belgian and Kuwaiti origins, this was the unofficial opening of Shuwaikh. The vessels had arrived only an hour before, moving through the harbour and berthing in a show of confidence in the harbour clearance. RADM Taylor USN, presided over the ceremony and delivered a concise and fitting tribute to the clearance teams, and whilst we were pleased with the recognition received his closing remarks were the signal for us to leave.

Not to be outdone however, RADM Holthouse in a private ceremony presented each member of CDT3 with his own Australian Active Service Medal ribbon. While we always believed we were working for a just cause, this tangible piece of Australian gratitude seemed to make the job even more worthwhile and reinforced the idea that Australia had not forgotten us.