No welcome home parties, and very little commendation.

They were labelled killers, rapists, and not considered true heroes.

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It was a heart-wrenching situation for the young men who risked their lives and fought on the frontline.

And one of those men was Launceston's Robert James Millwood, known as Bob to his family and friends, and "Boof" to his army mates.

He joined the force in 1958, when he was just 17-years-old, enlisting in Western Australia.

Just a teenager at the time, he was trained in warfare and jungle operations, in preparation for overseas conflicts.

He went on to serve in both Malaysia and South Vietnam.

The Malayan Emergency was one of Australia's post World War II commitments to overseas conflict, and involved 7000 Australian soldiers - 39 were killed.

It began in 1948, after three European estate managers were killed by communist guerillas - which led to a state of emergency being declared for all of Malaya within days of the murders.

Australia's military became involved in the conflict from 1950.

But it wasn't until 1961 that Mr Millwood would take part.

From that year until 1963, he was in Malaysia with the 2nd Battalion of The Royal Australian Regiment.

The emergency was officially over when he arrived, but the 2RAR remained active in the area.

He trekked through the jungles, "chasing them angry men around".

While it was a long stint, in what he described as sweaty and smelly conditions, Mr Millwood said it was nothing compared to what was to come in Vietnam.

In 1967, the soldiers from 2RAR were stationed at Nui Dat, the First Australian Task Force base in South Vietnam.

Some only served six months, having already completed 18 months in Malaysia and Borneo.

And with some members returning home to Australia, the battalion eventually joined forces with two New Zealand companies, creating the first-ever combined infantry battalion - 2RAR/NZ.

Throughout the entire conflict, which began in 1962 and continued for more than a decade, about 60,000 Australians served, more than 500 were killed and more than 3000 wounded.

"Malaysia was an emergency, Vietnam, that was a war," Mr Millwood said.

"Contrary to what people think, we didn't sit around and drink beers, it was a lot nastier than what people think."

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Serving as a sergeant during his time in Vietnam, he was exposed to scenes that would stay with him forever.

"Once you've been through that, you never forget it," he said.

"To see anyone die in battle, it's a filthy obscene way to die, and I don't think you ever get over it, you just learn to live with it.

"I still have flashbacks, sometimes I wake up in a sweat and think, I'm glad that was just a dream."

But it wasn't just the war that affected him, it was the homecoming. For a long time, Mr Millwood and other Vietnam veterans were not recognised the way soldiers from World War I and World War II were.

"What those poor buggers went through compared to what we did, it was pretty easy for us, but it was still a war, and you still don't forget it," he said.

"It is the same for the guys who went to Iraq and Afghanistan, the times are different, the people are different, but the basics are the same and it's hard to explain what it's like to somebody who hasn't been through it."

When people would ask if he went to Vietnam, he said it was sometimes "easier to say no".

"We were called rapists, child killers, the lowest of the low at the time, it was terrible.

"We should not have been there in the first place, we didn't know that then, but we know that now. Nobody should have had to go through that."

It was something he chose to do though, and he still "had a good life".

"I didn't get drafted, I volunteered to go, it was a good life for me I enjoyed most of it," he said.

"But there were parts of it that weren't too good, like in Vietnam when we got into trouble, it was bloody terrifying, the worst part was not knowing who was who.

"Unlike other wars, they all had a frontline, in Vietnam, you would clean up an area one week then go back and someone would start shooting at you.

"If something like Vietnam was to start up again, I would say we shouldn't go. The government back then, they would promise you the world and send you to these places, then when you got back they didn't want to know you."

Following his time overseas, he was posted around Australia, before his final posting in Tasmania. And that's where he stayed.

His time in the army, and overseas, earned him eight medals.

They were the Australian Active Service Medal 1945-75, the Vietnam Medal and the Australian Service Medal 1945-75.

He also received the Defence Force Service Medal, the National Medal, the Australian Defence Medal, the Republic of Vietnam Campaign Medal, and the Malaysian Service Medal (Pingat Jasa Malaysian), which was awarded to Australian soldiers by the Malaysian government for the Borneo conflict.

He left the army in 1978, when he was 38.

Finishing up in the force on a Thursday, he was working a new job by the Monday.

He drove delivery vans, trucks and even worked on a fishing boat.

"Back then you didn't have all the support when you got out that they have now, you had to just learn," he said.

Even though the war was over, and his time in the army had come to an end, he stayed in contact with his fellow soldiers.

It was that mateship and camaraderie that helped him deal with what he had experienced, and what he had seen.

"I think the main thing that helps is you go to the RSL with the boys, and you all have something in common, and you talk about the funny things that happened when you were over there," he said.

"You don't really talk about all that other stuff, the blood and guts and tears and all that bullshit, people don't want to talk about that or hear about that."

Sadly this year, he won't be able to catch up with fellow veterans on Anzac Day due to the coronavirus pandemic, with physical services, marches and parades cancelled.

But Mr Millwood will still mark the day by standing at the end of his driveway at dawn and 11am on April 25.

"It's a bit disappointing, it would be nice to have a beer with the boys, but it's not to be.

"People think it's all about getting on the booze, and fair enough we do go and have beers, but it's more about remembering what happened, and all those who have gone before you."

The now 79-year-old has four daughters and 31 grandchildren, including 15 great-grandchildren and one great-great grandson.

His wife, Patricia, sadly passed away.