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My Story
Read on ... but be aware that what I have penned here is the best I can muster. My memory is not as it used to be and I make no apology for any inaccuracy, if you can detect it! If you can, then better still. Email me and I'll update my story after considering your opinions. Perhaps in this way we may be able to get the account straight for that small period in our lives. I served in South Vietnam during the period 20 August 1970 till 29 July 1971. And although I have managed to pen the following, I am a little vague on exact dates simply because they are impossible to bring to mind. For that reason I am using this page to maintain and update my memory as dates, times and events come back to me. The 'as at' date will give you some indication just how well I am travelling, as I attempt to include everything on a frequent basis. As at 27 August 2003.
Too many factors/variables would need to have been altered to have prevented our involvement in that war. That was impossible, regardless of the demonstrations and desires of so many to end the conflict. Like the French before us, the war ran its own course. Unfortunately, we should have learnt from the French (lessons learnt!!) but in the end failed as they had failed. I have arranged this story in a fashion which will provide me with the achievement of three (3) objectives: 1.
To tell it like I experienced it For
the many uninitiated, the following is a description of what my Vietnam
was all about, and what we the members of 131 were expected to do.
On arrival in South Vietnam on 20 August 1970 my feet felt the burning tarmac at Ton So Nhut airport while my eyes and ears registered the sensation of war. To this day I can honestly say that what I saw and heard there in those first few minutes will stay with me forever. The din was unbelieveable, and the military aircraft, vehicles and soldiers moving around so urgently only contributed to my overall impression of "So this is what a war is like!". Before 30 minutes had passed we were all husstled into a caribou for our short trip down to Nui Dat. Here the loadmaster excelled himself by saying "Listen up. If the alarm bell should go off, brace yourselves and prepare for an emergency landing". End of speech. Twenty-five minutes into our flight the alarm bells started clanging. My bowels started gurgling. The loadmaster made himself urgent and began moving up and down the walkway as though he was readying evrything for anything. The Caribou wheeled to the left and started falling quickly, and continued its decent until a bump and bounce told us that we were on a runway and not ten feet nose first into the deck. I could only stare at the loadmaster as he laughed and hurried everyone off the plane. 'Fuck him' was my final thought on the whole episode.
Luscombe Field, Nui Dat was where we now were ... and this was different to Ton So Nhut. Here all seemed slow and purposeful. And greenery everywhere.No one rushed about, and the aircarfts and vehicles moving about seemed to have someplace to go. Excellent! This was the Australian Army I knew. We trucked our way to our destination and during the drive I could do little but marvel at all things around me. This really was a war! I thought of the many talks we had back at Holsworthy. How the old Vets described the place, and what they did here for twelve months. It was exactly how they described it - less their personal adventures. It really was tropical. It was bloddy hot too! We were all still in our dress polies and the laughter and hoots that we received from other troops along our route was interesting. Later we would be told that this was normal. That those with so much time left in country were always given sneers and jeers. So what!
We
rounded Nui Dat Hill (SAS Hill) and drove past Kanga Pad and the front
gate. We also drove past a battery of guns (possibly 107) and 131!
Hell whats this! I was not aware that the obligatory month of acclimatisation
and induction was with a different unit. Later I would discover that
this was normal.
The Regiment doubled as a Reo induction unit for all artillery personnel. Our reception at 4 Fd was no different to anyone else, except that we were not in 131. We were met by the HQ Bty BSM and led off to individual tents. I ended up sharing a four man tent with guys like Peter Dobbs. The tents were generally dark, smelly, dingy and dank! All adjectives which clearly describe my new home. But it was to turn out OK. A quick tour of the area gave me some idea where everything was. I was facinated by the toilets, in particular the urinals - four PVC pipes in a tight square buried in the ground and sticking out about three feet. You stood over these and dangled your Willey into them. Simple.
HQ Bty was the administrative unit for the Regiment, so no guns. No problem. But personal weapons (SLR) were immediately issued to all arivals.And ammo! Wellll ... this was indeed the war! Not blanks but real killing stuff. That night I taped two magazines together so I could do a quick change when needed. Next night I took them apart after being ridiculed by all and sundry. OK I thought, we aren't grunts. My tent mate came in and started enquiring if I would like some hand-grenades and a Claymore 'just in case'. I think my look convinced him I had had enough from everyone else and didn't need his jibes. My first thoughts on arriving were "Christ all mighty ... look at this place". Here I spent time working in a number of areas such as the OR's Mess (plenty of good chocolate milk and Soya beans), Enterprise (switchboard) and many 'shotgun' duties (armed protection on convoys). Here I also met other diggers like Dave Larter, Karl Kuhn, Peter Dobbs. Dave Larter is still in the sytem to this day and is only marginally older looking (well done mate). The OR's mess was great work. No I wasn't twisted. After the first week - fighting evryone else in line at breakfast for the small amount of white milk instead of the dreaded chocolate milk (doesn't do the Rice Bubbles much good) the 'freedom of the mess' as a dixie basher was great. Like they gave me an open ticket to all our rations. Yes there was heaps. All supplied by the US. Except for white milk. For some reason this was always in short supply; but chocolate milk was plentiful as was the Soya beans. Tons of both of them. And I ended up hating both of them.
With a few days of arriving I had my first visit from my mates in 131 - Bazza Collins and Jack Avery, both Nasho's. It was terrific to see them. The next day I paid a visit to 131 and fell in with the many others I knew. They were aware that I would be with 4 Fd for the next few weeks but that didn't stop me going over at every opportunity. Most members of 131 were National Servicemen - in fact 70-80% of the battery. The few Reg's (like me) were hassled mercilessly, but it wasn't too bad. Us Regs were still the backbone of the Army. Ha! My first month in country was exciting to say the least. It was different, and guess thats what made it very different. There was always something happening every day. A few days after arriving I had to go and see the dentist. My three broken teeth had produced a massive absis on my gums, and this was poisoning my system. Just before leaving Australia for Vietnam I had the unfortunate luck of being king hit by a junior NCO (no names no pack drill). We disagreed over something and he settled it the best way he could. Anyway, when the dentist saw the state of my mouth he near passed out. His horror was not so much to do with the absis and the busted teeth, but with the fact that I got to Vietnam in such a state - that the Army let me come. I told him the story and he seemed to understand. A week later I had my first set of military false teeth. They lasted 22 years. After the OR's Mess I got a chance to become a telephone operator. The Regimental switchboard was called 'Enterprise' and it provided the Regiment with connections to other units in Nui Dat. The work was easy but living in a dingy bunker for eight hours at a time was taxing to say the least. Night duty was even worse. But the many calls kept you busy and made life bearable and interesting. Not that we listened in to conversations. Never happen!! The other interesting side to the Regiment was the 'shotgun' tasks. Each morning on parade the BSM would read out the activities of the day, and the trips various convoys were doing. The convoy drivers always required an armed escort (shotgun) to accompany them, and our Regiment provided many. My first 'shotgun' was to a small village north of Nui Dat. I can honestly tell you my hair was standing on end as we drove out of the front gates of Nui Dat. Some of you die hards may scoff at this, but 'I was just 19' and sitting in a vehicle with a loaded SLR or GPMG was very different to running a radar set or manning Arty Tac. Soon after we ended up on a convoy working with the Civial Aid unit and stayed overnight in a small village an hours drive from Nui dat. This was interesting! When
I say overnight I don't mean staying in a motel. Along with staying
in this village was guard duty most of the night. Yeh. Here I was
lying in this ditch all night making sure we were protected. Can you
see it! If my life depended on it, I honestly couldn't tell you where
we were or what we were doing there. No briefing before we left Nui
Dat, no conversations with senior NCO's or Officers during our time
there, and no debrief when we eventually got back. I knew nothing!!
But then again I was just a 'shotgun' and maybe that had something
to do with the lack of communication. Anyway I remember lying there
in the dugout when my turn came to staying awake. I was wearing a
flak jacket and helmet and I guess keeping an eye out ... for whatever.
I lit up a cigarette (starting smoking in country) and sat there with
my back against the dugout wall when I saw the Officer in Charge (a
Lieutenant) slowly making his way towards me. I remained still, shielding
the cigarette in the palm of my hand. He very quitely moved toward
me, probably thinking I was a sleep. When he got to within three feet
of me I straightned up with some urgency and said "Evening Sir".
You would have thought I'd hit him with a four-b-two considering how
high he jumped. He got back up off the ground and grunted something
before leaving.
My first recollection of returning to 131 was when I got the message that the BSM of 131 wanted to see me. I hurried over hoping like hell it was news of my returning to 131. WO2 McManus was our BSM, a nice old guy (even then) with thinning and greying hair. I stood there in front of him and he said the BC - Major Tim Ford - was needing another soldier in the Artillery Intelligence stream (that was me) and along with the position came a strip. I just stood there and looked at him. He then asked me how long I had left to do in the Army. I said "Four and a half years Sir'. He seemed annoyed and again asked the question, but this time added " ... with your National Service". I was dumbfounded. I informed him that I was a Regular soldier, not a Nasho. Well ... I think he thought his Christmases had all come at once. He got up and came around his table and smiled at me. "Your a Regular soldier" he said with some surprise. Hell I thought. Don't these guys know whose who here! "Yes Sir, and proud of it" I said. It was nearly like a meeting of Father and Son after a separation of twenty years. I found out later they shipped my predecessor home early. Not sure why, but this left the Battery high and dry for junior NCO's. So Gunner Kocka became Lance Bombadier Kocka. I began to love this place.
Sergeant Brewster was assigned to show me my tent. He lead me across the main road to where the remainder of the Battery members were housed. This place was like tent city, but right on the wire and right next to the US 8" Battery 'Husky Chuck'. It all looked great. I was back were I belonged. But a great surprise was about to reveal itself for as I followed the Sergeant into my future home, who should be lying there on one of the cots but my dear friend 'punch my teeth out' junior NCO. I won't name him as he'll hunt me down and kill me for sure. As it was we nearly came to blows over a very stupid incident which would occur a month or two later. More about that in a later chapter. So there he lay, and here I stood. We looked at each other and he sneered just ever so lightly. Stuff you I thought. I coundn't believe how unlucky I was. Anyway I stowed my gear and followed Sergeant Brewster back to the Orderly Room for instructions. Basically, my job was the same as all the others - shift work in a word but with the added responsibility of watching over others, and coping the flack for their mistakes. The various sections in 131 were responsible for a number of different tasks:
Like many of the others my major responsibility was firstly as an Artillery Intelligence Operator. This role required all Arty Int operators to man the Arty Tac HQ, the LP's and to deploy to various locations where a battle had taken place to assess the location of mortar base-plates if mortars had been used.
I was also trained by the US as a SENSOR Operator, training in the deployment of field sensors, and their subsequent monitoring. This role required us to go into the field both around Nui Dat, the Horseshoe, and other locations which were believed to be used by the enemy. We were responsible for planting the SENSOR equipment in these areas (both from the air and ground) and to monitor the movement of the enemy, day and night. These field deployments were nearly always completed with the protection of the D&E Platoon, or with the rifle companies of the battalions. On many occasions we deployed into the field with the APC's for protection. On two occasions I can recall our progress barred by suspected mines and booby-traps. On one occasion a mine or booby-trap was either setoff or purposely detonated. The field operations were very stressful and physically debilitating as we were not trained infantrymen and were never involved in collective training with D&E Platoon or the rifle companies. When we were rostered for machine gun piquet we always manned a bunker on the wire. This involved sleeping and operating in the bunker and being proficient in the use of the .50 caliber machine gun, detonation of claymore mines, night vision devises and hand-operated flares. On a few occasions there were suspected enemy intrusion into the wire, and firing was authorised, both of the machine gun and the flares. Next to us was the US Artillery Battery called 'Husky Chuck'. On numerous occasions they fired their machine guns and detonated their claymores. We suspected they were a little more 'touchy' than we were as nothing was ever found in the wire the next day.
I ended up doing my first month on Nui Dat Hill in the LP. This wasn't so bad as we seemed to have everything provided. We had a vehicle to use to ferry us up and down the Hill, a good size ten and stretchers for use during our shifts, and a well built but very exposed LP complete with a GPMG and spiffy binos. All we had to do was observe, take readings with the built-in ccompass board, and report to Arty Tac anything of tactical interest. Close to the LP was the SENSOR CP - soon to double as the Thermal Image radar shack. My lightest moments were filled with watching and feeding the monkeys - monkeys everywhere! They entertained us day and night, some coming right down to our position, while others did acrobatic stunts high up in the trees and on the electric wires which supplied our little domain. They were Rhesus monkeys from what I could tell. I named most of them but I wasn't too sure which was which from day to day. What the hell. Our LP overlooked everything. We could see for 30 kilometers in any direction. The Horseshoe feature was soon pointed out to me - where our brother LP was located, and where we also did duty for a month straight. I was looking forward to that. Over the Hill from us was the SAS. In fact many called this Hill 'SAS Hill'. We saw little of them except when we manged to sneek in and watch their movies at night, or when they went out or returned from patrols. The few I did see impressed me. Many years later I was to learn their reason for being in Vietnam. It had little to do with their true role, and more to do with patrolling and ambushing. They really were little more than up-gunned grunts. But they were good, and did their jobs very well. Other duties which may be worth noting including our stint at placing of new wire and repairing the existing wire surrounding Nui Dat. Most of the Battery members were involved in this. This task saw us labouring in no-mans land for about a week. The work was very hard, and very very hot. A couple of the lads passed out from lack of water and the heat. I considered the work on the wire to be fairly dangerous as we not only had to be mindful of the existing claymore mines, trip flares and poisonous snakes, but also of any enemy device which may have been planted the night before. I considered also that we were fairly exposed to any possible enemy fire should they decide to fire upon us. We were very much in the open and out in the perimeter wire which - admittedly - was quite wide, but still within small arms range from concealed areas. On one occasion while on the Hill a number of us heard some unknown activity down on the wire to our immediate front. The sound was coming from the rubbish dump which happened to be on the wire, and therefore clearly within reach of anyone wanting to rat through it. I recall we reacted to incident by informing both Arty Tac (who we were in contact with by radio) and the US machine gun crew who manned a machine gun bunker not 10 metres from our LP. The Arty Tac Duty Officer informed us that they would send a patrol to investigate the suspected activity, while the US machine gun crew decided to force the issue by firing their .50 caliber machine gun down into the dump. We had no control over the US machine gun crew, but it seemed that they were told to halt there firing some time after they started. We heard nothing about the outcome of the suspected activity. No weapons fire was directed at us from the suspected activity.
My
tent accommodation was soon changed and I was relocated in the main
Battery area due to one of the other guys returned to Australia. This
was good, very good, for now I could sleep peacefully without fear
of that psychotic maniac cutting my throut. My new tent was directly
across the hard standing from the Orderly Room. This was to become
sigificant later. But for now I found myself alone in a tent built
for four. This changed within the week.
Peter Fielden arrived at the Battery with a chip on his shoulder, or so it seemed. He was another 'Nasho' who really didn't want to be here. He was allocated to my tent and a long furious friendship began. I put it this way because he was not your normal Nasho. In fact he was not normal. He was the consumate loner. He didn't need anyone, did not depend on anyone, and certainly did not follow anyone - he was his own man and made no bones about letting everyone know he was 'in town'. But we got on great regardless. I certainly was no competition for him, and that alone saved me. He did his own thing and I stayed out of his way. In turn he looked after our little hovel and we became good friends. But he was not happy. I got to know Peter fairly well, or as well as he would let me. After all, he was a surfer from Bells Beach, and every other beach in Australia where a wave needed taming. Before National Service he drifted, surfed, bumbed about, shagged anything that grew hair, and was renowned for drunkness and other illicit activities. Yet that didn't really make him that much different from a lot of other Nasho's. What did make him different was his indifference to our reasons for being in Vietnam, and that was not entirely a good thing. Not long before I was due to return to Australia Peter went berserk! There really is no other way to put it. Many things occurred around him, or because of him. Its difficult to say. But I remember the incident at our canteen one day when he and a few other Nasho's decided to burn their 131 plaque. Yep, Peter was instumental in being the first to demonstrate his protest, which I believe spurred the others on to do the same. He was not simply content in just voicing his dissagreement with his circumstances, but went further by nailing his plaque to a post, then ripped it off and set fire to it. The others joined in by dumping thier plaques on top of his, producing a fine blaze. On another occassion he was part of the 'mob' which desicrated the Orderly Room by throwing paint around and turning the 'orderly' room into a 'disorderly' room. It was a shocking mess, especially to us Regs. I think it was this incident that landed him in the Vung Tau Military Prison for some 30 days. He really was a force to be reckoned with. More on Peter later.
I
can also recall two occasions when there was a general stand-to in
Nui Dat. Not really sure of the dates. On the first occasion the stand-to
signaled an enormous artillery firefight (from us). I am not positive
just how much the enemy were involved in firing into Nui Dat, but
it seemed that every artillery piece in Nui Dat was firing simultaneously.
This stand-to lasted a couple of hours. On the second occasion we
were required to stand-to on the wire. There did not seem to be any
incoming but that meant little at the time. I recall running with
Peter to our bunker on the wire while at the same time dressing in
our field webbing, flack jackets and helmet. The moment seemed intense
as no one seemed to be telling us anything. We manned the bunker,
ensured the .50 cal machine gun was ready to go, and waited. Nothing!
Around a few months after arriving in country I was tasked to go to the village of Dat Do with a number of other members, which included some high ranking staff from HQ 1 ATF. I know that there was a battle in Dat Do the night before, and that I would be required to carry out some duties in relation to locating enemy mortar base plates. I didn't think this would be too hard as the processes involved were generally fairly simple. What I didn't expect - and which has stayed with me to this day, was the number of battle dead lying about when we arrived. To me it was a fatefull moment. This was my first time at seeing the results of battle. The dead were Viet Cong, as reported by the local ARVN unit, and as indicated by the clothes they wore. Rags really. But the causes of their deaths was what really opened my eyes. Sure, we had all been introduced to the effects of small arms fire during training back in Australia, but seeing the results on a human body was an eye opener. All together I believe there were about ten dead. The results of their deaths ranged from half missing heads, to massive holes in their chests, to limbs blown off, and in one case to being shot in half. They were all dragged from where they fell to the Dat Do main street.
Here they were layed next to each other and photographed before being 'powdered' with what I believe was lime dust. I took a number of photographs of which only one ever developed correctly, and that was double-exposed due to my stress at the time. Funny that!! What really disturbed me at the time was what the kids did with these dead. Not only did they not seem worried about the event and bodies lying about, but one young boy even placed a lighted cigarette between the lips of one of the bodies. I can still see the lifeless head stairing up at the sky while this cigarette burned away listlessly. When I think back today, I believe my mind was a little befudled at the time. Whatever!!!
Although our unit was small in comparison to others, our duties and responsibilities were very broad and took us to many locations. For this reason it is difficult to be precise as to who was involved in what. As such there were many instances when I was rotated through the Horseshoe. Suffice it to say that none of us were employed in doing nothing. The Horseshoe was very interesting. It was in fact an extinct volcano with one end open to the flat plains around us. It lay some 20 km SE of Nui Dat and could be reached either via the road through Dat Do or by the more direct Red Route. Along with the grunts who manned a couple of bunkers high on the ridge, we manned an LP and the Thermal Image/SENSOR command post. Our living quarters were deep underground with the LP on top as our post and entrance. The CP was only partially dug in. It was here at the Horsehoe that we were really alone - in a sense! The grunts had a rifle company down below us, but really, we did our own thing, and in some cases to our own detriment. We rotated through the Horseshoe on a monthly basis, so it was a good break from the routine of Nui Dat. I can recall that only on one occasion did we receive anything like incoming fire, and that was from someone down on the flats who decided - for whatever reason - to put a round over our heads. It was more of a joke at the time, but on reflection could have been much more serious. On one rotation I was in charge of the detachment and my fall from grace came from a combination of two incidents - from swimming in the water tank which fed all at the Horseshoe, and from buring a huge 'peace sign' in our helipad. Both these incidents combined to have our BC fly to our location and reduce me in rank before taking me back to the Dat. Oh well!
The twelve months with 1ATF was extremely busy, which - apart from the odd R&C in Vung Tau and the one R&R period - gave us no real time to relax and 'sitback'. We worked with everyone - artillery units, infantry, transport, Civil Affairs, helicopters, APC's, engineers, US Army, ARVN, etc. One of our members was detached to the AATTV for a short period, while other members worked in a Joint Operation with the US and ARVN at a place called 'Bear Cat'. NUI DAT (1ATF). However R&R did come around and I flew to Australia while many of the other guys took trips to Hong Kong, Bankok and other exotic places. My trip back home was great! Not only did I get to spend time with Mom and Dad (I was not married at this time) but also got to see and tell tales to mates and old girlfriends. I still remember my mate Ron crying in his beer because he didn't join up with me. I can only reflect now that maybe he was the lucky one.
R&C's in country were different. They consisted of a few days in Vung Tau every few months. Our usual haunt was the Bar of Flags and its girls. I am happy to say I abstained from the usual rootine and glad for it. My mate Jack came back from his first R&C with the clap. That however did not stop him on other R&C's. Strange guy. Or was I the strange one?? Anyway, I couldn't see myself always attending the RAP simply because I couldn't keep my snake in my pants. It was no secret that the RAP was really busy with ailments picked up in Vung Tau.
The highlight for me was when my older sister decided to take a trip to Saigon to see me. She caused quite a furor in HQ when the request for my leave came through. My BC found himself right in the middle of it, but had little choice but to release me. Thanks Sir! Those five days in Saigon were very different. My sister had been here before (world traveller) and showed me some really interesting sights. She threatened to send me back after my fourth drunken binge. However, the French restaurants were just to good, and too comfortable to just sit back and take in the culture.
One event which will always remain with me was the killing of a Vietnamese at the destroyed bridge between Vung Tau and Baria. My mate Bazza was with me along with Peter Fielden and others I have difficulty in remembering. We were just coming up to the ARVN checkpoint near the bridge when a lone motorcyclist suddenly gunned his motor and flew through the checkpoint at a great rate of knots. We all watched in amazement as the roadblock suddenly came alive with cars and people dashing everywhere as the ARVN opened fire with their small arms. The cyclist was about 50 metres passed the checkpoint when he got hit and crashed to the roadside, in time for oncoimg vehicles to run over him and finish the job. By the time the firing had died down we were already moving slowly passed the mangled cyclist. Not pretty by a long shot! Anyway, all the way back to Nui Dat my mate Bazza kept saying "Did you see that! ... Did you see that!" Strange how the death of someone can be carried out so simply and without recourse to any form of 'Rules of Engagement'. But that was Vietnam after all. Today I can still see the episode very clearly. Hard to forget actually.
From recollection, our small unit had a Officer Commanding, one or two Lieutenants, a Battery Sergeant Major, and one or two Sergeants. It is difficult to remember at times. What I do remember clearly is that at no time - either on Nui Dat Hill, or the Horseshoe - was there a Lieutenant or Senior NCO in charge. At both places the number of members at any one time would have been about ten all up. The control of the detachment was always left to a LBdr or Bdr. On Nui Dat Hill where we manned a LP and SENSOR/Thermal Image Radar twenty-four hours a day, I can very rarely recall seeing an Officer or Senior NCO in attendance. Visits, perhaps, but never a prolonged period or complete shift. In those months on the Horseshoe I can recall only one visit from my Battery Commander, and maybe one visit from a Lieutenant or Sergeant. We were not infantry trained - in the sense that we could operate as a fighting section - but we found ourselves alone with only the reassurance of the rifle company and other elements located at the bottom of the Hill, some 300 metres away. I do not believe we could have survived an attack from a determined enemy section. Help would have been too far away to make a difference to our survival. But we survived regardless, and did our job. Survival on Nui Dat Hill was different. Some called it SAS Hill, simply because the SAS Regiment was located just a short distance away. This was always reassuring, as the Hill was in fact part of the perimeter defences, and our LP doubled as a machine gun bunker - only until the US placed another dedicated machine gun bunker next to ours. Never-the-less, the thought that the US soldiers were nearly always drunk, high or asleep was not a great reassurance. The morning always seemed brighter when you saw daylight. To Be Continued Site design and construction by TANAHMERAH SPRINGS © 2001 |
(L
to R) ??, Sgt Brewster?, ??, self, Peter
