Tristan Chapman

~ On the Canvas Of Service, 2022

Content Advisory:

The following story contains personal reflections from an Australian veteran that may include themes of trauma, war-related experiences, mental health struggles, and suicide. These narratives are shared with deep respect and the intent to honour service, foster understanding, and offer hope to those facing similar challenges.

If you are feeling distressed or need support, we encourage you to reach out. Help is available.

• Lifeline Australia: 13 11 14 (24/7 crisis support)

• Open Arms – Veterans & Families Counselling: 1800 011 046 (24/7 support for veterans and their families)

Please proceed with care and compassion.

Chappy carries with him an unmistakable spark—playful, disarming, and deeply human. There is something about his presence that lifts the space around him. “I have had nine lives in my lifetime,” he told me with a grin that held both truth and humour. You believe it, not just because he says it, but because he wears it—every story, every scar, every chance taken and given.

It took me three days to get to him, driving across the wide, unforgiving stretch of the Nullarbor Plain. The journey was long, the landscape unrelenting. I arrived just in time. One more day and he would have been gone—off on another FIFO shift, away for months. That moment, that window to meet him, felt fragile and precious.

Chappy’s story begins with echoes of his father—an RAAF conscript in the 1950s—whose life in uniform left an imprint that would quietly guide his son’s path. “It kept rubbing off on me,” he said, with the ease of someone who knows the weight and rhythm of service.

His own time in the Air Force would stretch across twenty years, shaping not only his career but his family’s geography. Each child born in a different city—Wagga Wagga, Darwin, Amberley—as if the map of his life was drawn in moments of arrival and departure.

Now, in the quiet of life beyond the military, Chappy speaks with the calm clarity of someone who has learned to meet himself with grace. “…I am in. I am reliable,” he said. Not for recognition, but for the peace that comes with knowing who you are—and what you have given.

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The content featured here is extracted from Of Service, the original fine-art publication by Jenani Therone. It is reproduced with permission from both the author and the publisher. All rights are reserved. No part of this content may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without explicit permission.