Ron Mason’s dicey move as stolen tank threatens city

When a soldier drove a stolen tank onto Sydney Harbour Bridge, Ron Mason knew he had to stop him, but getting on top of the moving vehicle was just the start. As he opened a hatch, the soldier came up with it. “I grabbed him and then I realised he had a gun in his hand.” LISTEN NOW

WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT

When the call came over the police radio saying a tank had been stolen from Sydney’s Holsworthy Army barracks and was heading towards the city, Sergeant Ron Mason thought it was a prank.

But just moments later, the vehicle came around a corner near where he and his team were on patrol in Liverpool, in what was the beginning of the wildest police chase in Australian history.

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The stolen tank that brought chaos to the city in 1986. File picture

“About 20 seconds off the call coming over the air, this vehicle — a square, boxy armoured tank — came around the corner right in front of us and nearly wiped us out,’’ Mason told True Crime Australia’s Police Tape podcast, remembering the night it all happened in 1986.

“There was one highway patrol car following it at the time, and we got behind it. I thought, ‘How are we going to stop this thing’.”

Mason ordered a highway patrol vehicle to get in front of the tank, which was only travelling at about 10km/h, thinking maybe the driver would stop — it was wishful thinking.

“The highway patrol vehicle got in front of the armoured personnel carrier, which started to slow down. Then all of a sudden it accelerated hard and nearly ran over the highway patrol car. It would have gone straight over the top of it — so he got out of the way,” Mason said.

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It was not only police officers he was worried about, but also members of the public, with motorists having to swerve out of the way.

“He was generally going the wrong side of the road and just going through red lights the whole time, so we had to block off streets.”

Ron Mason, pictured here in 2003, served with the NSW Police for almost 40 years. Picture: Craig Greenhill

Mason, who was a highly-trained member of the TRG, the police’s Tactical Response Group, described how the chase continued from Liverpool, in the west of Sydney, through to the CBD.

“I remember driving through George Street and there’s thousands of people on the sidewalk. I thought what if he runs over these people … they were cheering and clapping.”

Like something out of the movies, people had come from everywhere to the city to watch the spectacle.

“He went right through George Street past Town Hall, it was about 8.30 at night and by this time there’s thousands of people there, plus people who come to watch after they heard about it on the radio.”

Immediately behind Mason’s police vehicle, there were another two or three providing back up as the strange convoy progressed.

“But in reality there were 30 to 40 police vehicles blocking off streets, sirens blaring,” Mason said.

While they were in pursuit, police had established that the armed vehicle was being driven by 30-year-old Lance Corporal Ross Edwards.

“We had a run down of the vehicle, the person who stole it and (information) he also had access to firearms,” Mason said. “We had information that there’s possibly firearms inside the vehicle and likely high-calibre weapons. We did a risk assessment and were told that this person was being treated for psychological issues and they thought he was suicidal.”

Ron Mason at the recording of the Police Tape podcast. Picture: Sam Ruttyn

Lance Corporal Ross Edwards drove an armoured tank through Sydney. File picture

It was not a good scenario.

Police were facing a man with mental health issues in an almost impenetrable tank, armed to the teeth and potentially in possession of hand grenades.

Experts told them Edwards could continue for another 600kms if the vehicle was fully fuelled. Besides being armour-plated, the tank’s tracks meant it rose about two metres off the ground, making it almost impossible to try and jump on when moving.

One of the officers in the car with Mason that night was the son of an army colonel and knew a fair bit about tanks and armoured vehicles. “I asked how do you stop them, and he said, ‘You don’t.’”

Mason was told there was only one way to breach the vehicle and that was when it was stationary. Their only hope was that such vehicles could get smoky inside and operators often left hatches open or at least unlocked to let some air in.

Police at the scene after the tank was eventually stopped on the Harbour Bridge. File picture

As the tank headed towards Sydney Harbour Bridge, Mason’s mind went to an incident in Brisbane just weeks before when a person had driven a tank off a bridge and died.

He asked his commanders about using capsicum spray if he could get close enough to the driver.

Ron Mason in 1989. File Picture

“I requested if we could have the use of capsicum spray and that was denied. It was very early in the process — they brought in capsicum spray after the Bathurst riots in 1985 — but we were never allowed to use it the whole time I was in the TRG,” he said.

“In my mind, he’s got 600kms he could travel. It’s only a matter of time before he kills somebody. He’s driving the wrong side of the road. He’s going through red lights. I mean there were so many things on my mind, but at the time, in my mind, I thought he had to be stopped or he was going to kill somebody.”

Then after almost an hour, in the middle of the Harbour Bridge, the tank stopped and Mason saw his chance.

Mason and his men got out and surrounded the vehicle, fearful it was going to be driven off the bridge like in the Brisbane incident. They stopped traffic, trains and ferries.

“I worked it out in my mind, ‘I’ve got to get on this vehicle and, if I don’t get on this vehicle, he’s going to kill somebody’,” Mason said.

“Then the vehicle started up again. It was only about 15 seconds that he stopped, and I thought, ‘Bugger I’ve got to do this’, so I ran after the vehicle and tried to get on the back of the vehicle.

“I was worried about the tracks going around and I thought, ‘If I fall I’m going straight under those tracks’. So I put my hands up and I grip the top, and there was a tarp and I grabbed it, trying to pull myself (up), but the tarp came loose and I start to go down, but I eventually got in the middle and climbed … and I got on top of it,” he said.

Mason managed to climb onto this tank as it was moving across Sydney Harbour Bridge. File picture

At the time Mason was super fit and somehow had managed to drag himself onto the roof of the vehicle while it was still moving and then began to accelerate. He raced to a turret and opened the lid only to discover it was used for water storage. He then went to another turret, which he realised wasn’t locked, and went to lift it.

“I’ve got my firearm out ready, but had to put it back, and I pulled the turret up. Little did I know that he was holding the handle under the hatch. When your adrenaline’s going you’ve got more strength, and I actually pulled it up and he came up with it. I grabbed him and then I realised he had a gun in his hand.

“He pointed the gun towards me and I pushed it away from me. It was a handgun revolver, but when I pushed it away from me it was pointed towards other police who had surrounded the tank.”

Colleague Mike Pearsall, pictured here on top of the tank, helped Mason get the injured Edwards out. File picture

By now the vehicle was at a standstill, the hatch was still up and Edwards remained armed, with a gun pointing at Mason’s colleagues. When he came up with the turret, Mason had looked into the corporal’s eyes and didn’t like what he saw — to Mason it was obvious he was suffering from mental issues. He ordered Edwards to drop his weapon.

“I thought if I don’t shoot him he’s gonna shoot me. And, if he shoots me, there’s all these police going to shoot him, so he’s gonna get shot either way. I remember I just pulled my gun out. I just put it to his head and I said, quite calmly, ‘Police, put the weapon down otherwise I’ll shoot’. His reply kind of dared me to shoot. And so I shot, and then within a second another shot went out.”

In the following few minutes police came from everywhere. Edwards was dragged from the tank, placed on the ground and police immediately began to give him mouth to mouth.

“I remember seeing the smoke coming out of his head and I remember seeing the blood coming out of his head and I thought, ‘You’re wasting your time’. But he stayed alive for a couple of days. I mean it was one of those things — it was unreal. I’d never (have) thought I’d have to do this.”

Despite efforts at the scene, Edwards died in hospital. File picture

A coroner later found that Edwards had taken his own life, but the person who was closest to it all, Ron Mason, still deep down believes it was his shot that killed him. It was 1986 and ballistics was nowhere near as advanced as it is today.

Mason said he was questioning his own actions within seconds of firing.

“It goes against your whole being that you’ve actually taken somebody’s life. And I always think, ‘Is my life worth more than that person’s?’

“If I could have done anything without the use of lethal force I would have done it.”

Mason received a medal for bravery, but underplayed his role in the incident saying those in the cars following were just as brave.

“I was doing what the average policemen would have done and I’m just an average policeman,” he said.

Originally published as Ron Mason’s dicey move as stolen tank threatens city