I was a National Serviceman and spent almost 12 months serving in the Army at the Australian Base of Nui Day during the Vietnam Conflict.

One job at our 104 Sig Sqn Task Force Unit at the time was to clean out the toilets etc. and the army had a trade of ‘General Duties’, whose tasks were really to turn their hand at anything regarding maintenance.

I was lumbered with this job because there was no other trade for me to do and not enough time to train me up within my two year period.

The toilets (W.C.s) consisted of a 2 meter trench dug to about 1.5 metres in depth topped with a concrete slab and three to four metal WC pans encased at equal distances. They were enclosed in a green painted shed constructed of a timber frame with corrugated iron, walls and roof.

The pans had metal seats and lids, each with a large former peach tin bolted to it and filled with concrete in an attempt to form a seal.  It never worked.

Because of an organic process the pits never filled and the faeces were kept at a low level, the same principal as used in many outback toilets today.

The pans were not in individual cubicles but rather what can be described in contemporary terms as "open planning" and it was not uncommon to see four guys sitting side by side reading or talking whilst having their daily crap.  Week old newspapers (all we could get) were strewn on the floor which provided ample reading material.  It is amazing how war breaks down the veil of modesty.

The front side of these facilities, where the occupants faced when seated, was a half wall with fly screen material making up the top section giving the user the opportunity of a view, in our particular troop’s case of the Eagle Farm chopper pad.  The lower part was corrugated iron.

It was here on my second day in country that I felt the effects of the local US 83^rd Artillery battery, located about 500 meters away.  When they fired off their ordnance, the ground would reverberate sending shock waves and if someone was seated on pans, it ever so slightly lifted their rear end from the seat.

There were four of us in my section with normally three to do these daily cleaning tasks, which for the most part didn’t take long.  A quick sweep, replace the toilet rolls and every now and then tip some disinfectant or the like into the pit to keep a reasonable odour.  Care had to be taken not to introduce too much 'toxic' material which could upset the equilibrium of the bacteria.

One constant request was to “get rid of the ‘shit flies’ out of the dunnies”.

‘Shit flies’ were small insects which lived in the pit and, we believed (or we used to tell everyone) because it was dark and they had poor eyesight it caused them to continually crash into users’ bums when a user entered into ‘the world of the shit fly’.  Perhaps they were trying to tell us something?

They didn’t do any damage, but continual contact with the rear end was quite annoying when enjoying a good read.

We tried everything to get rid of them, the favourite being "fogging".  This was done with a portable smoke machine with a long barrel type applicator powered by a four stroke engine, which we would fill with pyrethrin insecticide, start the motor and insert the barrel through an open WC lid.

The photograph shows a similar machine with a (non military)  operator clad in overalls and dust mask etc.  We just wore our green shorts and boots.
 
Whilst recommended, this was a band-aid solution and had minimal effect on those annoying little creatures.  In fact when again seated after a session of fogging the shit flies would be at it again.

One time, when the complaints became so continuous, someone came up with a brilliant idea:  Why not pour some petrol into the pit, ignite it and bingo, no more shit flies - well for a while anyways. 

The deal was done, the petrol was obtained and carefully tipped into each of the four pans (which directly led into the pit).

Knowing there might be some type of combustion reaction, we obtained extra weights for the toilet lids.   The question then remained as to who was actually going to fire up our project.  Some buckets of water were placed strategically at the entrance should they be needed.

The lance corporal at the time grabbed some newspaper, lit the end, entered the room, lifted the nearest seat and thrust down the ignited paper, then took off like a startled gazelle.

erbaaaang”.  The building shook, the ground shook and we all looked at each other with utter trepidation.  Heads popped out of the tents adjacent to the toilets with cries of anguish from the sleeping shift workers.  “Had someone been fragged?  Had someone let off a live one? Had, had, had…………..???”

Slowly we opened the toilet door.  We hadn’t killed the shit flies however in the process caused such a mess it created a whole day’s work for the three of us: 

The inside walls of this 10x4 shed were littered with toilet paper, and …. shit.  Three of the lids where blow off, one catapulting through the screen wire at the front like an uncontrollable missile and the poor screen door was half off it’s hinges. 

The extra weights we placed on the lids were on their way to Vung Tau. The nightmare which now faced us was the cleaning up.  We had no mains pressure water to hose down the place.

 It was all bucket and cloth and in some cases, brushes.  “Never again” we told each other and when someone mockingly mentioned the shit flies, we simply said “Suffer”.

The exercise, whilst a genuine attempt to reduce the irritation for the diggers was a complete flop, and worst still, we became the butt of the units jokes for weeks to follow.