But Craig Campbell is now down and out, living in a caravan outside his parents' home on the NSW South Coast after leaving the force due to a breakdown from post-traumatic stress disorder.

The 56-year-old is not left with much.

He lives on $440-a-week workers' compensation, his marriage disintegrated and he has been unable to hold down a job since.

Even the bravery award that he won for the train incident was later taken away when the police hierarchy deemed he used "excessive force".

But, a few weeks ago, there was an unusual bout of good news.

Two members of the Australian Muslim community had remembered seeing the burly sergeant on TV 10 years ago, instinctively protecting the men on the train regardless of their skin colour.

Adam Bowden and Beylal Racheha heard Campbell had not been recognised for his efforts after 10 years so they tracked him down and called on their community to pitch in.

They drove down to North Wollongong, took him out for a Lebanese lunch and gave him $1000 in new clothing and cash.

"We just wanted to say thank you to him for the work he's done, it was sad no one had acknowledged it," said Beylal Racheha, a car wash operator and charity organiser.

"When I watched it happen 10 years ago, I was proud of that policeman. It showed that the police weren't racist. It made me feel like we weren't being purposely targeted."

Campbell, who is still locked in a bitter struggle for injury payments, said he was taken aback when he met the pair.

"I really teared up because, you know, I've helped so many people out in my personal life in and around here in Dapto and when I wanted a bit of a hand, trying to get my car on the road and things like that, no one could be seen for dust."

"I just thought of these two blokes, out of the goodness of their heart doing this, it really got to me actually."

Campbell said a video of him swinging his baton on the train and the platform at Cronulla has been used as a training video at the academy.

In the days after, people shook his hand in the street. One of the men being attacked on the train thanked him for saving his life. His boss, former commander Robert Redfern, gave him a letter from his two daughters who said they were proud their dad worked with such a hero.

"To say it was excessive force is just rubbish," he said.

It is an incident he will never forget, forever bitter about the way it was derided and etched in his mind along with dozens of other horrific jobs that led to his eventual breakdown in 2007.

"These days I just potter around and grow veggies and that and try to stay calm," he said. "I never thought about PTSD, I thought it was all rubbish. But I still see the faces when I close my eyes. You try to push it out of your head, but you can't."