National Archives of Australia

Issue 1 January 2011

‘Nasho’: how a nation responded

Between 1964 and 1972, young Australian men turning 20 were required to register for national service, a scheme that became known colloquially as ‘nasho’. More than 800,000 men did so, and almost 64,000 went on to serve in the army. Dr Christina Twomey, recipient of the 2009 Frederick Watson Fellowship, researched national service records held by the National Archives of Australia to investigate how Australians responded to the scheme. 

One evening in late May 1966 Mr Brian T, from rural Western Australia, sat down with his notepad and pen and wrote to Prime Minister Harold Holt. Brian described himself as a ‘fair-minded Australian and supporter of the Liberal Party’. He had just learnt about the death of the first national serviceman in Vietnam. ‘The atmosphere in our household tonight changed dramatically from one of belief and trust in your actions to one of anger,’ Brian confessed. ‘I believe that the great majority of Australians object only to one facet of your National Service policy,’ he continued, ‘that is the extreme moral blunder that you are making in not asking these chaps to volunteer for service overseas.’ If only the government would ask, rather than compel, they would find plenty of national servicemen willing to serve overseas. 

Trooper Claudio Sponza, midway through his two years in the national service scheme, 1966.

Trooper Claudio Sponza, midway through his two years in the national service scheme, 1966. Sponza became so keen on army life that he made it his permanent career. After undertaking officer training, he served as a tank commander in the Australian army. NAA: A12111, 1/1966/2/28

The Menzies government introduced the national service scheme to assist the regular army to fulfil its military commitments in Vietnam. Twice a year, the government conducted a ‘birthday ballot’ in order to determine which of the registrants would be called up for service. Almost 64,000 served in the army, more than 3500 won exemptions, and nearly 100,000 were rejected for failing to meet the army’s standards. The scheme generated an extensive bureaucracy and left a large archival trail. Australians such as Brian T from Western Australia were prepared to put pen to paper and tell the government what they thought about the national service policy. 

The most infamous figure to emerge from the national service scheme was the draft resister: going underground, burning his registration papers and protesting in the anti-war movement. Moving beyond this relatively well-known story, examination of the records held in the Archives’ collection reveals the way Australian men and their families negotiated the requirements of the scheme, presented their views about compulsory military training, and debated its implications in the quieter forum of personal correspondence. 

Surprising opinions

This research has yielded surprising results. For example, it is often forgotten that between 1951 and 1959 ‘nasho’ was preceded by a scheme that required 18-year-old men to undertake 176 days of military training. In the early 1960s, groups as diverse as the Queensland Women’s Electoral League and the Australian Legion of Ex-servicemen and Women wrote to the government arguing for the reintroduction of compulsory military training. 

Young men also demonstrated a commitment to military training. Lester B, from a small town north of Brisbane, was devastated when national service was in abeyance. ‘As a boy,’ Lester assured the Prime Minister in 1963, ‘all through school, both myself and my friends eagerly awaited the day when we would be privileged to serve our short but beneficial period in NST [national service training].’ Suggesting that national service should be reintroduced, 19-year-old Lester concluded: ‘I humbly believe that the discipline, along with the company and atmosphere, would help immensely to stabilize the young man and help him in the crucial stage of life.’ 

One World War II veteran put his view in slightly more colloquial terms once ‘nasho’ had recommenced: those who resisted the idea of national service were ‘hanging onto their mothers’ apron strings … I think Sir, they are spoilt, for they want jam on it and do nothing for there [sic] country’. 

Warrant Officer Bill Lapthorne of Launceston (left) oversees a realistic field training exercise at the 1st Officer Training Unit, Scheyville, New South Wales, 1966. On the receiving end of the lesson are National Service Officer Cadets John Stringfellow of Mount Claremont, Western Australia (centre), and Damien Aird of Kew, Victoria. (

Warrant Officer Bill Lapthorne of Launceston (left) oversees a realistic field training exercise at the 1st Officer Training Unit, Scheyville, New South Wales, 1966. On the receiving end of the lesson are National Service Officer Cadets John Stringfellow of Mount Claremont, Western Australia (centre), and Damien Aird of Kew, Victoria. Courtesy Australian War Memorial: SMT/66/0258/EC

Opposition to conscription

Sentiments such as these go some way towards explaining why national service was broadly, although not universally, accepted when it was reintroduced in 1964. Opposition to the scheme was often not opposition to the war itself – although this was a perception that would gather force by the late 1960s – but to the way national service flouted established Australian traditions. Any mention of the Anzac spirit is notable for its rarity: the language that dominated this debate, at least in the mid-1960s, was not about the heroic achievements of Australia’s military forces in the past, but about the need to make boys into men and the considerable obligations people bore towards the state, within traditional and agreed upon limits. 

There were some features of the scheme that distinguished it from the old one. The most significant, apart from its random selectivity, was the government’s recently acquired capacity to send national servicemen to serve overseas. It was this, rather than the idea of national service per se, that generated controversy. An ex-serviceman who described himself as having ’3 lots of war service’ was in favour of compulsory training but warned the Prime Minister: 

What I do know is this, Australians do not like to be conscripted … When we were asked over in France if we were in favour of Conscription, although in 1918 we were extremely hard pressed, I do not know of one serviceman who was in favour of it then. If all fit young men were compulsory called up … we would have the answer. Then I feel sure if we called for Volunteers for Overseas, we would readily get them as we did in 1914 and also 1939. The discipline these lads would learn would be of great advantage and would help them a lot to become better citizens. 

Both this ex-serviceman and Brian T from Western Australia, consciously or not, articulated the governing assumption by which Australians had consented to military training, and compulsory service, in the twentieth century. 

Widespread compliance

Alongside studying why young people objected to what they called ‘conscription’ (and certainly some of them did), we also need to ask why so many of them complied with its provisions. The official registration of more than 800,000 men born between 1945 and 1952, in an environment where failure to register was an offence – but one very poorly policed – does not suggest that national service was the subject of mass civil protest. Only 14 people were imprisoned for refusal to obey a call-up notice during the life of the scheme. Conscientious objectors formed only a small proportion of the overall numbers. 

For at least the first half of the duration of the national service scheme (until about 1969), it was the scheme’s break with accepted traditions of compulsory military service in Australia that attracted criticism. Conscription for overseas service had always been controversial in Australia, as the bitter referendums of 1916 and 1917 had made so abundantly clear. The idea that it was the duty of young men to complete some form of military service – as an obligation of citizenship and as preparation for the responsibilities of mature masculinity – was more broadly accepted. 

‘Hidden’ perspectives re-emerge

The controversy that ultimately engulfed Australia’s participation in Vietnam has meant that these perspectives on national service have largely disappeared from public view. More recently, they have reappeared. In September 2010, the Governor-General, Her Excellency Ms Quentin Bryce AC, dedicated the National Service Memorial in the grounds of the Australian War Memorial. Unveiling the granite, stone and bronze memorial, the Governor-General hailed former national servicemen as ‘true patriots’. ‘They knew that, with civil and personal rights, came responsibilities to the nation – the obligation to serve capably with dignity and loyalty.’ 

While the reintroduction of national service seems an unlikely prospect, despite the Governor-General calling attention to Australian citizens’ ‘responsibilities’, her sentiments captured well the understandings that informed Australians’ support for the scheme in the 1960s. 

Dr Twomey is an associate professor of history at Monash University in Melbourne.

Editor’s note: surnames have not been used in order to protect the privacy of the individuals concerned.

16 comments on "‘Nasho’: how a nation responded"

  1. George says:

    I was a Collingwood boy, I missed out by 6 months, but blokes older than me just didnt bother to register. I think if you didnt protest – “stick yer head up” you were ignored. One guy we knew nearly got caught because he went to the CES to get a job and they looked him up on something and told him he had to register. He took to the toe and didnt go back.

  2. Sally says:

    You do not mention the sexism of conscripting only males (boys). It was disgusting to see our fellow students victimized on the basis of gender by a lot of old men in Canberra. Army life provided opportunities for some of my friends but they should have had a choice.

  3. Alan says:

    My Mum started voting Labor in the early 1970s to ensure I was not conscripted. I would’ve gone for two reasons. I wouldn’t have wanted someone to go in my place and it would’ve been an adventure. I see things quite differently now, particularly the disgusting way the boys were treated on their return. My daughter and I visited the Nashos display at NAA a few years back and saw the items on display. Each ballot ball has two dates on it and our birthdays were on the same ball. Long odds that. My thanks to all Veterans from all eras. I wish the country looked after you all a lot better than we currently do.

  4. Elaine says:

    My friends were due to be in the next ballot when the Labor Party and Gough were elected. We were too young to vote and I think this was a big part of the hostility towards it. The boys being conscripted and sent away were not having a say in making the decision. We were soooo happy with the change of government and therefore an end to conscription.

  5. George says:

    If they had got me I wouldn’t have gone. Why would I want to kill people I’d never met? Because some politicians thought I should go. As I said before, my mates who didn’t register never got any trouble, just keep your head down. I’m not sure about armies, what did the leopard tanks cost – $30,000,000 each. Build a lot of trains and hospitals and schools. I’d like to see the army running cake stalls and raffles and the people who need help getting all the dough.

  6. Terry says:

    Well George (28th Feb 2011), I did go to Vietnam, along with many others. No war is nice. But if our forefathers had thought the same as you, well, you would be speaking Japanese, and Australia would not be the free country it is now.

  7. George says:

    I do speak Japanese, and my TV and fridge etc etc are Japanese. I read a bit of history, they MIGHT have invaded but they were stopped in NG by militia, not regulars. I’m a bit of a believer in armed neutrality. We would have an army and a militia and we ONLY go to war if threatened directly. Not because the yanks or the poms are at war.

  8. jan murray says:

    I am writing and researching for a novel set in the turbulent Vietnam protest era. I would love first-hand info from someone who can remember watching ABC television birthday lottery draw. I need the EXACT mechanics of it….one marble, two dates? Dates or numbers (from 1 to 183? representing birth dates)? Who drew out the marbles? Celebrities, VIPs?

  9. George says:

    Jan, the people who ran it were the Department of Labour and National Service. Its records of that time would be with the National Archives of Australia. They have offices in every state and a website. When it ran they used to send a weekly or monthly microfiche to CES offices with defaulters’ names. Maybe the first numbers were drawn by Mr Menzies but later on it was probably just some clerks.

  10. Jan, George is correct. We do hold records pertaining to the national service scheme. Click on the ‘Read more about the Archives’ holdings relating to the national service scheme’ link in the ‘Want more?’ box above.

  11. John Hills says:

    Can anyone explain why my Army Service Records show my nationality as British when i was born in Australia

  12. Graeme says:

    John, all Australian-born were classified as British citizens until 1946, from memory. Required a change in (British) law before Australians became Australian citizens.

  13. John Kimmorley says:

    I’m curious as to why my name does not appear when I search the National Archives data base. I was conscripted for national service in the 10th intake (1967) and medically evacuated from Vietnam in 1968.

  14. Hi John

    The Archives’ Reference Service should be able to assist you with this query. You can lodge a request with them via the online form: http://www.naa.gov.au/collection/using/askquestion/index.aspx. Hope this helps!

  15. John says:

    I’m very proud of serving my country as was my father and other family members, but in 1966 I was still regarded as British even though I’m a fourth generation born in Australia .What about the other guys I served with who were of other origins? Trust the bureaucrats to muck things up.

  16. Brian says:

    “The army joined with me”, as we said it then and I was penalized with all the other Nashos by halving our income cut to $112 a fortnight [in my case anyway] from the average weekly income of that time. It was as it turned out a very good experience that I can now look back on. But getting off a Hercules and being turned off in a day was not the way I would dismiss any one, least of all someone who was going to fight for his life for some politician.

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