Story 13 - Service in Vietnam


By Graham Lee (AKA Joe)

Graham Lee

Chapter 1 - Late January 1968, Vung Tau, South Vietnam

HMAS Sydney
HMAS Sydney (AKA Vung Tau Ferry) on route to South Vietnam. 
Photo: AWM P04667.186

At approximately 0300 hours in late January 1968, the troops assembled in full battle gear on the lower decks of the Aircraft Carrier, HMAS Sydney. The ship was moving at low speed; all hatches battened down, running lights to a minimum and sailors at battle stations.

There was a deathly silence on board. Neither soldier nor sailor conversed. The look in the eyes of the sailors appeared to reflect sadness and yet respect. One could be excused for thinking that after 17 days together in which some very close friendships had ensued, this would be a normal parting gesture. However, the reality was that the sailors had undertaken many crossing with troops fresh from Australia to South Vietnam and conversely battle-weary troops on the return voyage. They had experienced firsthand that most of the soldiers would return significantly changed by their experiences. They also knew that some would never return.

Except for the sailors going about their duties, there was very little movement on board ship. A short briefing on the order for disembarking from the ship was given. At approximately 0430 hours the HMAS Sydney slipped into Vung Tau Harbour. Most of the soldiers were somewhat bemused, as the shipping in the harbour was lit up like Christmas trees. The HMAS Sydney appeared to be the only vessel that was 'battle ready'. Nevertheless, the sailors were extremely sincere and professional in their duties and their actions had an extreme effect on making the troops take account of the seriousness of the situation that now confronted them. For many of the soldiers, it was the first real feeling of panic; the final realisation that as from this moment survival depended on keeping your wits about you.

Finally, the ship came to a stop and dropped anchor. At first light, selected small groups assembled on the flight deck. Almost at once two Chinook Helicopters appeared out of the sun and landed on the deck. Without undue delay the troops scrambled on board and were ferried to the Australian Compound at Vung Tau. It took only 5 minutes before the small groups were reunited on terra firma. Whilst it was expected that the Chinooks would ferry the remaining infantrymen within an abbreviated time, no further flights occurred. It was not long before word was passed along that Viet Cong had been sighted in the Harbour and it was decided that the safest strategy for disembarking the remaining troops would be to use landing barges. This was duly carried out without incident. It again reinforced the seriousness and reality of the situation. By now, even the newest of the soldiers realised that they had arrived in the combat zone.

Later that morning the troops were advised that they might as well relax as much as possible as those going to Nui Dat would not be airlifted until approximately 1600 hours. It had been reported to the troops that Nui Dat had been under attack the night before and had received some direct hits from enemy mortar fire. It was suspected that the enemy was still in the area and, therefore, low flying aircraft such as helicopters could not be used. Caribou aircraft were therefore requested as these could fly at an altitude necessary to avoid any likely enemy ground fire.

Sky-Crane CH54 unloading vehicles from HMAS Sydney in Vung tau
Sky Crane (Sikorsky CH-54) unloading vehicles off HMAS Sydney
in Vung Tau Habour.   Photo: AWM NAVY15632

The rest of the day was spent in sweltering heat in barren buildings on the edge of Vung Tau Harbour. Refreshments were made available from an Australian run canteen. The usual Army sandwiches were provided for lunch. An American 'Sky Crane' helicopter was working nearby; watching it helped to pass some of the time. It was continually picking up 3 to 5 tonne trucks, lifting them to a height of approximately 100 metres and then dropping them on top of each other. It appeared to be such a waste of perfectly good vehicles. The troops, in response to their bewilderment to the destruction were informed that once a vehicle had reached its 'useful life' it would automatically be destroyed. There appeared to be an endless supply.

Chapter 2 - Australian Task Force - Nui Dat

Caribou DHC-4A
Caribou (De Havilland Canada DHC-4A) flying near Back Beach, Vung Tau.
Photo:  AWM VN/66/0081/21

Few of the troops appeared to really relax. Most of them talked nervously, spoke of mates who were already in South Vietnam and of those at home whom they missed already. The news that Nui Dat had been attacked the previous night did little to assure the troops who had been posted there. It was perhaps the final realisation that it was too late to change their current predicament. The reality was that whatever time was required to complete a tour of duty started in earnest right now!

At approximately 1600 hours, those troops for uplift to Nui Dat were transported to the waiting Caribou Aircraft. Without delay the troops were at 6,000 feet flying over the paddy fields and patchwork of plantations, roads, and villages. The view was to become a common sight for the troops during their tour of duty as many operations necessitated the movement of troops by helicopter.

It was almost dusk when the Caribou touched down at Luscombe Airstrip Nui Dat. The encampments of 7RAR, Special Air Support Squadron, Luscombe Bowl (entertainment area), 2RAR and plantations surrounded it. There was some movement around the airstrip but little around the Battalions locations. A Land Rover was waiting to take troops to their respective units.

One of the soldiers who will be referred to as Joe was picked up for transport to 104 Signal Squadron. What follows are his general reflections and a brief account of his experiences of his tour of duty in South Vietnam.

It took no longer than 5 minutes to reach the Squadron encampment, being given a 'quick guided tour' of the various Units locations along the route. After being introduced to the Squadron's acting Commanding Officer Joe reported to the Signals Staff Sergeant for instructions. It was at this point that Joe requested to be placed on detachment with 2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) as this was the Unit in which his half-brother was serving. The Staff Sergeant was fortunately sympathetic to his request and felt that as Joe and his brother had different surnames no one would be the wiser. Once this was approved, Joe reported to the 'Q' Store for the issue of a firearm, ammunition, and associated equipment.

L1A1 (SLR) 

 A Self-Loading Rifle (SLR) was duly signed for, still heavily packed in grease. Its bolt, complete with firing pin was wrapped separately also encased in heavy grease. A can of petrol and rags were supplied along with a fully equipped cleaning kit. By this time it was getting quite dark. Joe had a splitting headache, which he put down to the immense tension that had been evident since 0300 that morning. He was feeling quite uneasy about the next day's events.

Other than essential personnel manning gun and observation posts around the perimeter at the Nui Dat encampment, the remaining troops were stood down. Joe was driven to 2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) location and directed to the Support Company tents, one of which was the domicile of the Signalmen from the Corp of Signals. It was the duty of these Signalmen to provide communication between the Battalion  and the Task Force Headquarter and maintain the integrity and security of the radio networks. They were also required to provide expert advice on and assistance with all Battalion communications including Morse code, if required.

2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) Sign at Nui Dat
2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) Sign at Nui Dat 1967/68.   Photo: AWM P02866.017

2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) because the Battalion also encompassed two New Zealand Infantry Companies - 'Victor' and 'Whisky'. The various companies were located amongst rubber plantations that had not been harvested since the Australian occupation. Each tent had its own six-foot mortar pit and except for the entrances to the tent, they were surrounded by sandbags some 3-foot high. It was mostly deserted as the Battalion was out on an operation.

Joe had no idea how to see what was inside the tent; he did not even have a torch. On entering the tent he found strung between the tent posts a crude two-strand wire that turned out to be the lighting and power source. A light globe was 'borrowed' from a neighbouring tent and after screwing in a light globe Joe sighted an empty bunk pushed up against the sandbags, there were no tent walls. There were a couple of bare shelves made from a packing crate that made it look a little more inviting. The other three bunks had shelves that housed photographs and other personal effects, which tended to greatly improve an otherwise drab interior. There were several wooden duckboards on the floor so at least there would be dry feet in the wet season. It would enable the floor to be swept, which would ensure that some cleanliness could be maintained. This was 'home' away from home and a location Joe was going to cherish, especially after being out in the field for three weeks at a stretch.

Joe pinned up a photograph that he had managed to keep reasonably intact during the voyage. It was a photograph of a Jenny, a girl he had met in Bundaberg, Queensland, during an Army exercise. She was all decked out in her Nursing Sisters uniform, complete with veil. It added that delicate touch and helped to at least make the existence of 'home' more of a reality.

He realised that with the intensity of the day's events he had scarcely thought about his personal ablutions and felt the sudden urge to find a toilet. Conveniently placed not more than thirty paces from the tent was a small building which housed some three neatly arranged 'thunderboxes'. You certainly did not need to get directions; all you had to do was to follow your nose. However, it was quite chic as there was a fair amount of privacy and real toilet paper on the hangers. He felt quite relaxed as he sat down on the wooden seat which was still warm - it had obviously supported someone not too long before.

Suddenly there was a loud bang followed about one second later with a similar sound and then a powerful gust of wind lifted Joe physically up off the toilet seat. Joe with his heart in his mouth and fearing Nui Dat was again under attack, bounded out of the door forgetting all about the pants around the ankles. A soldier who was passing by and had obviously seen this reaction many times, just commented, “You'll get used to it, 'fire missions' are usually scheduled for this time each night, so adjust your throne time.”  A much-relieved Joe re-entered the block to continue where he had left off only to hear the same loud bang again. Joe lifted a cheek the seat and moved to the right to allow the blast of air to pass. He was somewhat amused at his initial reaction and now that the initial shock had subsided the whole act he imagined was like riding a horse at a slow trot.

On returning from his ablutions Joe found a Jerry can of water and had a "Pommy" shower and cleaned his teeth. He put up his mosquito net and laid out his bedroll on the canvas stretcher. He threw off his boots hung up his greens on some wire and slid underneath the mosquito net donned only in his drab green underdaks, military issue. He could not fall asleep no matter how much he tossed and turned. The fire missions continued for some time and some small arms fire could be heard some distance away. He could not believe that he was here, in this place alone.

At 0600 the next day, a parade was called for all those soldiers left in the Support Company. Many of these were Cooks, Armourers and some returning from R&R. Each soldier was handed a small white paludrine tablet to ward off the effects of malaria. It was very difficult to swallow without water and tasted like bile, but the NCO's insisted that you take it then and there. Some of the troops managed to slip the tablet under their tongue and get rid of it after parade. Joe tried this only once but felt it was better to try and swallow it than to be subjected to the vile taste. This tablet parade was to continue throughout the tour of duty.

US Army One Man Ration Pack
US Army
C Rations.   Photo:  From Internet source.

After being dismissed from the parade, Joe was called over by the Sergeant Major who directed that he collect three days rations. These rations were American issue and Joe was not familiar with the contents of the ration packs. Therefore he packed nine boxes, one for each meal. This amounted to a full number 37 backpack.

Chapter 3 - Joining the Battalion in the Field

Graham Lee
Graham Lee ready to deploy on an operation with 2RAR/NZ (ANZAC). 
Photo
supplied by Graham Lee (132-1)

Joe had no idea where the 104 Sigs detachment was located but he had gleaned from a brief conversation with someone he met at the kharzi, that 2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) were engaged in Operation Coburg. He had been told that he would be airlifted out to their location so it was obviously some distance away. He knew that he was to replace one of the 104 Signalman from the detachment who was going home.

He was thankful that the experience gained from exercises with the Infantry at in Shoalwater Bay Training Area had given him a good grounding in what he needed to take into the field. Nevertheless, that old saying “hurry up and go slow” seemed to be quite appropriate and so in keeping with that thought, he had spent a few hours during the night working out how best to carry the bare necessities.

In addition to his 'personal' items, hoochie, mosquito net, bedding rations and four water bottles he found it was quite an effort to jam them into the old Australian Army 37 Pattern Web Equipment. Somehow he was able to roll up and secure the bigger items and strap them onto webbing. The standard issue, SLR L1A1, straight out of the grease from the night before, still smelt like petroleum and oil although he was confident that it had been well-tested by the armourer. He had no desire to know to whom the weapon had been issued to before being returned to store. At least the 60 rounds of 7.62mm ammunition which he had already inserted into the well-worn magazines, slipped comfortably into the front pouches.

He was also required to obtain a spare radio set, spare battery and a telescopic 292 Aerial. The supplies and equipment were duly obtained and Joe tried his best to stash the smaller items in with his stuff but the antiquated webbing would not yield additional space. Saddled like a pack horse, it was with a great deal of physical effort and determination that he was able to even stand up and walk let alone fire an SLR if the necessity should arise. Whilst he thought that he was as fit as a mallee bull, he was only weighed in at around 130 pounds (59kgs) dripping wet and 5ft 7 ins (1.7mts) in his boots.

He had been ordered to be on standby at 0700 so that he could be airlifted out. Not even one day in the country and here he was all kitted up and waiting to be picked up to be transported to Kangaroo Pad. It would have been nigh on impossible to try and walk any distance so he was much relieved when the driver pulled up.

Hueys arriving Kangaroo pad, Nui Dat
Stick of Hueys (Bell Iroquois UH-1) coming into
Kangaroo Pad to pick up troops
for Op Coburg.    Photo supplied by Norm Munro (131-14)

It was only a matter of minutes to Kangaroo Pad where there were ten Iroquois 'Huey' Helicopters, already warming up and just waiting to take us on board. Like Joe, many were first timers, others were back from R&R and others called upon as changeover or replacements for other detachments. He did not know any of the other soldiers but figured that by the lack of ‘enthusiasm’ that they were probably just as apprehensive about what awaited them at their destination. Even though he had travelled by Helicopter and light aircraft many times, there was always that nervous feeling but like the other troops there were no outward signs of anxiety. At the go command, each group in an orderly scramble and half-bent over moved to board their allocated chopper. Somehow all managed to squeeze into the limited space despite being packed like mules. Joe was fortunate in getting to sit on the outside edge as he had the bulky 292 Aerial to manoeuvre. On the signal from the ground controller the helicopters lifted off as one.

Within a few seconds the whole of the Nui Dat Task Force Base became clearly visible. The view was not that spectacular looking very much like an oversized railway fettler's camp. Rows upon rows of dirty dishevelled stained canvas tents surrounded by sand-bagged bunkers located within the confines of a rubber tree plantation. The foliage was extremely dry, the occasional tin-roofed shed flashed out from the earth-coloured buildings. A maze of roads and tracks and the outline of the perimeter gun pits were easily spotted. As the helicopters passed over the perimeter line, Joe realised that the relative safety of the Australian Task Force base of Nui Dat was left behind.

Nui Dat near Kangaroo Pad
 104 Sig Sqn from the air. Nui Dat Hill on the right and HQ 1 ATF to the left
of the Sqn in the centre.  Photo supplied by Denis Hare (A-1 with labels)

On route, the helicopters flew in a tight formation, two abreast but in a staggered line. The patchwork of rice paddies, tracks, heavy foliage appeared to extend out to the large hills in the distance. The drone of the engines, the occasional atmospheric buffeting affecting the flight level was quite noticeable. The clack of the Iroquois' blades, although noisy added a feeling of confidence that they would stay airborne. The wind blowing into the cabin was quite warm but at least it subdued the sweat as the heat of the day climbed. Joe’s mind quickly strayed to more pleasant times and he drifted far away from the present situation. Even though he felt completely alone he knew that he would soon be able to meet up with his half-brother at 2RAR/NZ (ANZAC).

Since he had been conscripted he had managed to cope with ten weeks of Recruit training and six months Corps training. Several of the soldiers that he had gone through recruit training with had also been posted to the Signal Corps. Over the nine-month period a strong group bond had been developed. However, on completion of Corps training the group were posted to various locations but he was the only one posted to the 139 Signal Squadron at Enoggera in Brisbane but they showed him the ropes as well as keeping him out of trouble, most times.

As his thoughts returned to the present, he started having doubts about how he would measure up as a radio operator. Whether he would fit in with the other detachment members and the Infantry's Support Company. Sure, he had qualified as a Radio Operator and had trained with Infantry Battalions on exercises back in Australia so he should be okay. But it kept coming back to him that this was not an exercise, it was not with people that he knew and he did not have a damn clue as to what was going on. This was the real thing and any mistake could result in casualties.

After some time the helicopters began to descend and radioed ahead for clearance. Within seconds, orange-coloured smoke was visible. It was duly acknowledged by the pilots, indicating that the landing site was clear. On the port side were tents, artillery pieces, bulldozers, heavy machinery, mortars, and perimeter defences.

FSPB Anderson, Op Coburg
Australian troops arriving FSPB Andersen, Op Coburg
Photo supplied by Tom Spring  (62-15)

Upon landing it did not take much time for the troops to disembark and quickly disperse. It appeared that most of the troops were destined to stay on the base. There was a lot of movement of supplies across the large expanse so jeeps appeared to be the order of the day. There was not a lot of time to look around as Joe was ordered to be on standby for an airlift forward to the 2nd Battalion’s Headquarters. It was a relief to see that everybody just went about their duties in what appeared to be a relaxed manner. Most were wearing Americans style camouflage outfits so it was only the accent that identified them as Aussies.

It did not take long to find the 104 position and surprisingly met up with Alan Ball who was in the same platoon at recruit training at Kapooka. Alan informed him that this was Fire Support Patrol Base 'Andersen'. It was located near a rubber plantation on Highway 1 which was a well-known enemy route. After exchanging the latest news, Alan informed him that he was the current Batman to the OC of 104 Signal Squadron. Joe was absolutely flabbergasted as Alan had been posted as a Driver and seemed happy to see it out to the end of his two-year conscription. Nevertheless, Joe was confident Alan would never have ‘volunteered’ for such an occupation but he obviously seemed assigned to his lot. Joe often wondered how the OC managed to handle the spasmodic outbursts that Alan was often to display.

In recruit training when the platoon Sargeant made a comment concerning respect for rank, Alan could not contain himself. At the mention that no matter what you thought of the holder of that rank, you should keep it to yourself. Alan put his hand up and the look on the Sargeant’s face said it all, but he politely gestured for Alan to ask his question. Alan asked whether he meant that you could not be charged for what you thought. Of course, the Sargeant agreed, but before he could clarify his answer, Alan just jumped in and said that 'he thought the Sargeant was a c@#t'.  He was lucky all he got was a couple of days of cleaning up the orderly room after hours. It was how he was and yet as far as I know, he managed to breeze through the recruit training without further mishap.

Joe had not received a briefing on the Battalion's whereabouts, what action they were involved in or even how many Signalmen formed the detachment which was located with the Support Company of the Battalion. Neither had he seen any of the 139 Sig Sqn members who had travelled over on the HMAS Sydney to join 104, so they must have been deployed as quickly has he had been. During the brief time with Alan he was to learn snippets of what had been going on around the area. Whilst Alan had supplied some insight he also made it clear that he did not envy him at all and wished him the best for where he was heading. Joe had no idea what he meant but it did not sound very encouraging. He did get the general thrust of the operation so far and that engagement with the enemy seemed highly likely given the skirmishes in the last couple of days. Intelligence reports indicated that this was caused by the build-up of enemy troops in preparation for the TET Offensive. It only seemed like 10 minutes after that before Joe, along with the other replacements boarded the four Iroquois for uplifting to the 2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) Support Company.

Huey at FSPB Anderson
RAAF Iroquois 'Huey' Helicopters at FSPB Andersen.  Photo:  AWM P04729.002

It was an extremely uncomfortable trip for as the equipment was heavy and his right leg had gone to sleep. He could not get the feeling back in his leg no matter how he tried given the limited space and his precarious position on the outer edge of the helicopter. On arrival at the Battalion's Headquarter, the helicopters hovered some six feet from the ground which was normal operating procedure as it was an extremely vulnerable time for aircraft and the pilots who were wary of being caught on the ground.

The troops had no alternative but to jump. Joe prayed for a safe landing and on hitting the ground he could not feel his leg and collapsed immediately with his face firmly planted in the dirt. His entire equipment landed on top of him but he still had hold of his SLR. He was slightly winded but fortunately, no one seemed to notice, as they had all 'hit the deck' when they landed. It was probably a blessing in disguise as it soon became obvious that the Support Company had still not secured the area to grant access through the perimeter. Despite Joe’s embarrassment, at least one of the reinforcements made mention that Joe had shown good training, 'for a Signalman,' in holding a defensive position immediately on contacting the ground. Joe nodded his thanks but had no intention of disclosing what really happened. However, it certainly brought home just how stupid he would have looked had he jumped straight up and started walking toward the perimeter. It was a good lesson, 'hurry up and go slow'.

Once clearance was given, the reinforcements entered alongside a gun pit on the perimeter of 2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) Support Company. All reported immediately to the Duty Officer who referred them to the Senior NCO in charge of support company personnel. The Senior NCO pointed in the direction of a couple of hoochies and informed Joe that he would find his mob camped around that area. The Signalman Joe replaced had already moved out towards the Chopper and was quickly lifted on board and whisked away. Lucky bastard!

The look of the place surrounding the hoochies was somewhat untidy and not really what Joe had expected from the usually well organised signalmen. It was about to get worse as twenty yards from the living area was a large bomb crater which was almost full of dirty army green coloured 16oz cans. These turned out to be tins of food from the American ration packs, which Australians found unpalatable, e.g. Ham, and Lima Beans and Frankfurts with allegedly spicy tomato sauce. Whilst Joe did not know any of the signalmen, they went out of their way to make him feel welcome. They were quite laid back but had a bit of a laugh at the 'new chum' stuffing all those American meal packs into his 37 pack when you couldn't eat half of the stuff. They quickly pointed out which ones were worth keeping and taking them at their word, the remainder finished up in the bomb crater.

 Chapter 4 - The Joys of being a Signalman

2RAR CP
2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) Radio Operators on Op Santa Fe.
Photo:  AWM CAM/67/1070/VN

The number one question on Joe’s mind was what was expected of him. It was quite awakening when he was told that the official role of a Signalman was somewhat irrelevant. For all intents and purposes, Signalmen were considered an infantry resource and therefore operated as a battalion operative under the direct control of the battalion. It was intermated that you could not operate by the Royal Australian Corps of Signals handbook. Whilst the key job was to man the radio network for 1ATF and to monitor the ‘correct’ usage of the radio network, Joe learnt that it was normal practice to operate the battalion nets and if required the mortar and artillery nets. This meant that duties were shared between all. If not on duty, Signalmen were required to stand to and man the perimeter as required. He was reminded of the old war movies, this is war and the bullets are real, get used to it.

After putting up his hoochie, he joined the team and reported for his first shift in the Command Post (CP) at 1400 hours. The CP was a six-foot hole in the ground with a rebated edge on both sides on which to sit. It was covered by a heavy-duty tent, which had double flaps some distance apart. These flaps enabled personnel to enter and leave during the hours of darkness without permitting the light to be emitted. In this cramped location there were four Radio Operators, Artillery, Mortars, Infantry and Task Force together with several officers. During the night usually one officer was on duty. However whenever there was a contact the number swelled dramatically.

2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) CP
2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) Officers and Radio Operators manning
the Bn CP on Op Coburg.  Photo:  AWM CAM/68/0183/VN

He hated being cooped up in the field CP, as he felt positively claustrophobic surrounded by that heavy duty canvas. Most of the troops smoked continuously, including Joe, who had only started smoking when he was called up. His smoking intake increased dramatically, sometimes chain smoking to relieve the tension. Cigarettes were provided in ration packs and free cartons were often dropped with other supplies. At any rate they only cost 15 cents a pack if you needed to buy them. Ventilation in the CP was almost zero, which meant that passive smoking combined with Joe's increasing intake meant he was always looking to light up.

Once the flaps were closed at last light, heavy 9-volt fluorescent lights were the only illumination and the light tended to fade in and out and did not last for any significant period. Joe always had sore eyes and found it difficult to breathe and get any relief from the stale air. The smoke and poor lighting made it extremely difficult to read, write or encode/decode messages. It was usually damp and noisy and sitting on the earth did nothing for Joe's rear end.

Joe recalled his brief experience in exercises back in Australia as just how vulnerable you were sitting in a field CP.  During these exercises, on several occasions 'the enemy' broke through the perimeter defence and took over the CP.  He found it difficult to shake the visualisation of Viet Cong getting through the perimeter defence and charging through the tent flaps blasting away with their AK47 rifles. Being the communications centre there was always the fear of being targeted with mortars, particularly if any light was emitted after dark, or if aerials were visible, which the enemy could use as directional and range markers for mortar attacks.

There were instances where youth's from the hamlets in close proximity to the support bases often played in the scrub which surrounded the defence perimeter. As the scrub provided an ideal screen for their activities, it gave the youths an ideal opportunity to drop mortars, embed mortar base plates and ammunition at strategic points around the perimeter. This action enabled the fighters to launch hit and run attacks from all sides with very little chance of coming under fire. The use of their children to further the cause, regardless of the cost, was endemic during the Vietnam Campaign.

Fortunately, there was not too much activity during his first shift so he was able to spend some time just listening to the interaction between officers and operators. He felt a bit uncomfortable sitting there watching a senior officer using the radio set as if it was his home telephone. Whilst the content of the conversation was somewhat vague it was about a report on some activity being provided by one of RAR’s Intel officers. The radio procedure drilled into Signalmen was to keep the conversation brief and of no more than 30 seconds duration in an effort to stop the interception by the enemy. As it was Joe’s first shift he did not have the self-confidence to explain the correct voice communication procedures to this high-ranking officer. No one seemed to be taking any notice so it appeared that he had been doing this for some time without restraint. He did raise the matter when he got back to his hoochie but was informed that as we were considered a resource for the battalion we should abide by their operating protocol.

Having come out of the CP ‘unscathed,’ Joe was heading back to my hoochie when he saw a couple of Assault Pioneers setting up or reciting a mortar base plate. There did not appear to be any rush to complete the task. He introduced himself and explained that it was his first day with the Battalion and would they mind if he just watched what they were doing. He was invited to take a seat. It was like I had switched on some hidden element as the whole mortar platoon became a well-organised team, taking bearings, quickly siting the mortar base plate, and securely embedding it into the hard ground. They even had a small level of sandbags surrounding the site to protect the mortar tube and rounds.

2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) Mortar Crew 
2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) members setting up a mortar tube on Op Paddington.
Photo:  AWM CAM/67/0575/VN

The NCO patiently explained the distances and capabilities of such a small but deadly deterrent and stated that it was far safer and much more dependable than the drop-short artillery. Better still was an invite to watch them in action later on as there was to be a perimeter testing once the listening posts and clearing patrols had returned to camp. Joe went off to his hoochie and made a cocoa from the American ration pack which along with the cream biscuits went down like a treat. He did take a look at the waste of canned food piled up in the crater and thought that it would probably be sufficient to feed a small village for a month. He was tempted to scavenge through the cans in the event that someone had missed a tin of fruit or another cocoa but that was highly unlikely. Having been politely ridiculed for filling a 37 backpack with American rations, he felt that he should let sleeping dogs lie. Laying down on his treasured bedroll he quickly dozed off as it had been quite a day.

It only seemed like a few minutes when his slumber was prematurely ended. He was suddenly wide awake and cautiously crawled out of his hoochie. The other guys were still in their hoochies seemingly oblivious to what had occurred. Then there was another bang and he could see that the mortar platoon were in action. Joe presumed that they were testing out their new bearings and destroying anything within the various distances that should not be there. He walked up to the NCO who told him that he was just in time to see a few more rounds being peppered around the perimeter. The action was quite impressive until a mortar was dropped into the firing mechanism and it made a fizzing noise, came out of the tube, and dropped a few yards in front of the mortar. I was ready to run until the NCO nonchalantly walked over, picked up the mortar, examined it and handed it back to one of the operators. He just mentioned that it cannot arm itself unless it flies a specified distance. Joe thanked him the demonstration and information but from that day on, Joe steered clear of the mortar platoon.

Chapter 5 - Orientation Reality

2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) loading resupplies
2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) members unloading cartons of rations from a RAAF Huey
on Op Coburg.  Photo:  AWM CRO/68/0070/VN

Joe did not sleep well that night and was up early the next morning and after stand to, he wandered over to the CP.  He thought he heard a familiar voice coming from one of the gun pits. He made his way towards the perimeter and was relieved that the voice belonged to an old school mate, Andy. It was such a relief to finally see someone with whom he shared some of his earlier years. It would have been a bit embarrassing, being a relative stranger to front up to a gun pit unannounced.

It was hot and humid but there was an awful stench in the air.  Joe was almost gagging and asked Andy if he had a latrine inside his gun pit, or words to that affect. The smell was completely different from what Joe had experienced in the bush. It was not like a dead carcass which had been a regular sight on the sheep and cattle properties. Andy gestured towards a spot approximately 30 yards from the gun pit where there were two extremely bloated corpse partly covered in what looked like black pyjamas. There were flies crawling all over them and the blood was caked over their hair and face and on the ground surrounding them. As the sun rose the bodies seemed to bloat even further and looked like they would explode. It was really grotesque. Hard to imagine they were once living and breathing human beings.

Andy replied, in a rather blase manner that, 'the two gooks had copped it two nights ago in an ambush'.  Neither he nor any of his mates seemed to care that the bodies were laying so close to their gun pit decaying in the sun. Andy said that if it not been for the smell, their remains would have gone without notice. Joe was surprised that he didn't feel any emotion and just put it down to the fact that he had seen many dead animals whilst working on the land. After all they were like animals in structure. He kept telling himself that they were the enemy and they were trained to kill, so it was self-defence.

Andy invited Joe to have a brew and they talked a lot about past times. It was funny that Andy’s demeanour had not changed one bit. He was still able to cajole his mates into making a brew for his ‘visitor’ and of course himself. There was some sarcastic remarks but they fell on deaf ears as he pleaded that he had to entertain his guest and could not leave his machine gun unattended. Andy told him that he had not seen Jack, his half-brother since leaving Nui Dat at the commencement of operation Coburg. However, he said that Jack was out with 'A' Company as a Radio Operator so he would hear from him when the company radioed in. Andy filled him in on the whereabouts of the battalion and told him that his brother was all right as he was smart enough to keep his head down.

Joe then learnt to his sorrow that another school acquaintance, Timothy Cutcliffe, had been blown up by anti-personnel mine. He had a lot of respect for Tim and many fond memories of playing football against Tim's De La Salle team. Tim was different from the general run of those attending private schools. He often stayed back after the match and kept the school team company until the old school bus collected us. Many times his teammates would yell at him to join them, usually with some snide comment about the company he was keeping. This never changed Tim's attitude and he really was a genuine friend. Joe and Tim had met up again after leaving school at the Kapooka Recruitment Training Camp and were able to relive old memories.

Joe hadn't realised that he had blurted out, 'how, why, what happened'. In response Andy went on to explain, in a rather nonchalant manner, that during a lull in an operation the troops were playing football on the beach. Tim just went to have a rest under a tree and 'boom'; he had plonked himself down on a mine.

Joe felt sick in the stomach and wanted desperately to leave this place alive. The death and manner in which Tim died played on Joe's mind throughout his tour of duty. It made Joe extremely hypersensitive and he found it difficult to trust anyone. He was suspicious of anything that appeared 'normal' and unfortunately created an immense dislike of the Vietnamese which prevails to this day. He has never nor will he enter a Vietnamese restaurant as the smell just brings back those memories. He cannot be objective about the Vietnamese people even though they were just defending their county. It did not matter whether they were North or South Vietnamese soldiers, Viet Cong Guerillas, Interpreters or Peasants. A sad deliberation he acknowledges but one that he endeavours to keep to himself.

Chapter 6 - The Dreaded Nighttime

2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) Interpreter
2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) RSM WO1 Larry Moon using a Vietnamese interpreter to
question Vietnamese villager at a check point during Op Ainslie.
Photo:  AWM CAM/67/0830/VN

There was an unwritten rule that you keep a wary eye on the battalion’s Vietnamese interpreter at all times. If he dug deep fox hole or just made a shallow scrape, then you would be careless not to do the same. The one with the 2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) BHQ was a young man, a teacher who appeared quite at ease amongst the troops. He was a great chess player made even more amazing as he always had one ear glued to his radio, listening to the local Vietnamese networks. He knew what was going on and was obviously concerned for his own safety so respect was afforded to him. To trust him was another dilemma as there were instances where friendly troops had been ‘deliberately” detoured into a mine field or an ambush with the interpreter mysteriously disappearing when these incidents occurred.

During stand-to, everything seem to stop whilst the clearing patrol completed their sweep outside the perimeter. It was so silent, that you could not hear a bird tweet or an insect chirp and nothing seemed to be moving. The mossie was still very active although the stinky army-issue repellent did seem to work, probably because of its viscosity. Just sitting there either in your fox hole or scrape or within easy reach of it, everybody seemed to be waiting for something to happen. Even so, there were occasions where Joe found it difficult to restrain himself from bursting out laughing at the antics of some of the characters amongst the troops.

On several occasions, one particular signalman who I will not name for fear of jeopardising his good name, was so good at miming the actions of the soldier in action to the extent that he would feign being shot and the dramatically fall into his pit. The most demanding thing is trying to stifle laughter and Joe found that when 'stand-down' was called, his side were aching from holding it together. At least it made the nightly routine a little less tedious.

After the troops were stood down, Joe lay in his hoochie trying to rest up before his next shift in the CP. There was nothing else to do in the middle of nowhere, and it was a little warm to be reading a book under a blanket by torchlight. Everything was so quiet and peaceful but still with an air of apprehension. At approximately 1900 hours a fire mission began from Fire Support Patrol Base Andersen that Joe had left from a couple of day before. Unfortunately, the direction of the mission meant firing directly across the position of the Battalion HQ. It was bloody inconvenient to say the least.

Hooshie in Vietnam
Hoochie being used by Australians in South Vietnam with RAAF Huey.  
 Photo:  AWM SHA/65/0006/VN

Each time a round was fired there would be a loud bang followed by a second loud bang about a second later if the Americans were firing the track mount 199's and only a single loud bank if the Australians were using the 105 Howitzers. Usually both were involved in the fire missions, and from all accounts enjoyed the competition for accuracy and quantity of rounds still in the air before the first shell hit the ground. After the bangs, the projectiles would make a noise like a jet aircraft in dense cloud, or continuous rolling thunder. At first softly from a distance then getting louder until it appeared to be directly overhead. It would then pass out of hearing and everything would be silent until many seconds later when an explosion would be heard as the projectile hopefully reached its intended target.

Between the silence and the projectiles explosion, Joe found that he was holding his breath, his heart racing. Finally the mission would terminate and there would be silence. Sleep did not come easily. Any sound was a cause for apprehension and the imagination could do terrible things to affect reality, especially when combined the day's events. It was better in the daytime as it was easier to nod off. There were reconnaissance patrols and plenty of activity in the skies. There was a feeling that an early warning scheme was in place and there was some protection.

NZ 161 Field Battery Fire mission
NZ 161 Field Battery firing defensive mission in support during Op Cooktown. 
Photo:  AWM CRO/68/0328/VN

The operation continued and Joe, although on edge, settled into the routine required for the performance of his duties. He felt that he was now a useful operative and worthy of being considered as one of the lads. During the remainder of this operation, Joe was exposed to many of the pressures, but more particularly of operating by the seat of the pants. Some of the training and experiences in Australia had certainly assisted him in getting over the initial hump, however in the real situation, accuracy that had been pummelled into their heads at signals training courses was paramount.

Being at the centre of communications always meant that the radio operator was probably the first to know what was happening. He was acutely aware of the pressure on himself and particularly the Company Signalmen; his brother being one of them. These radio operators were constantly on the move during the daytime and often in an ambush position once the light had faded. Joe respected all radio operators working in the field who had to call in Locstats, Sitreps, daily reports, log all transmissions including encrypted messages then decrypt them with a torch being the only available lighting. In addition, they had to achieve this whilst keeping undercover no matter the weather conditions.

They were fully aware that their voice would travel given the silence surrounding their locations yet they still responded throughout the night to the regular radio checks. Often depending upon their location they often resorted to using the “pressel switch” to signify satisfactorily communications. Joe tried to put himself in their shoes and made every effort to assist operators who appeared to be having difficulties. Often it was necessary to repeat several segments of messages but Joe felt that was a lot easier for him being in a ‘protected’ environment. The radio operators were a very close-knit group and it was always a relief when their call sign was heard each day, even if it was only a radio check. It was a terrific way of knowing who was in what area and how they were going. It had a downside in that if one was wounded or worse, it hit every operator at the same time.

The most difficult calls were when a contact was made. The emotion in the voice of the operator gave a good indication of how bad the situation was. After the contact was over, the operators had to regain their composure to transmit the statistics that were used to assess the success of the mission. The “ghouls” back at Nui Dat eagerly awaited the statistics so that they could despatch it to the politicians for manipulation and propaganda release.

Of course, there were some comical situations that helped to relieve the situation. I remember after one contact by the Kiwis who had relayed the ‘required’ contact information I was asked to request confirmation of the stated body count, which went something like this:

“Whiskey One this is Zero Alpha, request confirmation that (code) body count is three. Over.”

“This is Whisky One, (code) body count is three. Even pulled them inside
the perimeter myself and I’m almost sitting on them. Over.”

After another contact had been proclaimed, where two VC had been sighted approximately 300 yards away. They were engaged and then suddenly disappeared into the scrub. The usual coded report was received and analysed and as there were no friendly casualties it was accepted and recorded without too much concern. However, about five minutes later a call came in from the same call sign, again in code, seeking a resupply which also included four hand grenades but no ammunition. One the officers quick as a flash radioed to offer congratulations to soldier who was able to throw the four grenades 300 yards. On subsequent inquiry, it appeared that the grenades had been used to go fishing.

Nevertheless, Joe was always aware that he had to be meticulous when transmitting and deciphering code no matter what difficulties might be encountered. He was fully aware of the difficulties that would be experienced by operators recording and deciphering code by torch light under the cover of a hutchie. His efforts did not go without notice as several of the officers complemented him on his efficiency, effectiveness, and considerate manner. This did little to ease the continual knot in the stomach and uncontrollable palpitations.

Chapter 7 - Back to Nui Dat

2RAR/Nz (ANZAC) returning from Op
2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) returning to Nui Dat from Operations.  
Photo:  AWM CAM/68/0291/VN

At the end of their part in this operation, the Battalion was airlifted back to Nui Dat for some well-earned rest. The troops had not had a change of clothing for some days and only a "Pommy" shower was possible. There had been no rain for several months so there was no relief from the heat. It felt good to be able to have shower and don clean clothes, especially socks and undies. The socks could just about stand up by themselves and undies needed a great deal of scrubbing. At least the greens could be sent off to the local village of Baria to be laundered. It was amazing to see what a tub, a feed and a few beers could for the morale of the troops.

An amount of beer was flowing and Joe finally caught up with his brother. They had a lot to talk about and after a few beers, South Vietnam didn't seem to be all that bad. They even were able to watch a movie. The next day duties were performed in 2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) CP, which was located underground but not far from 2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) RAP, Officer’s Mess, and the 'home' and depot of the small 104’s detachment. Whilst being underground it was quite comfortable as it was equipped with desks and chairs and had a large military map on one wall and several smaller ones on the desktops.

The larger map was constantly updated to keep track of the various call signs as they were constantly on the move. There were Artillery, Mortar, Infantry and ATF operators on duty whenever there was a contact, fire mission or other action. Otherwise, it was the 104 radio operators who manned the radio networks during the non-operational periods. Of course a duty officer was always in attendance and it operated 24/7. The lighting was from the main generators and large maps and office equipment was well laid out. Joe's brother worked as a radio operator with A Company and manned the telephone switchboard for the Battalion, when back in Nui Dat.

Joe undertook many operations with 2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) that had some strange names such as: Coburg, Oakleigh, Clayton, Pinnaroo, Ashgrove Tram, Cooktown Orchid, Toan Thang. Some involved reconnaissance, ambushes, and search and destroy and village searches. The Village searches although essential were not humane in the sense that all citizens were literally mustered into a fenced off area like animals being penned for slaughter. It reminded Joe of the WWII rounding up and corralling those citizens who were not of the Aryan race. Troops searched the village for caches of weapons, supplies, excessive rice caches and signs of any enemy occupation. Scant regard was had for their personal belongings, however. some medical aid was provided to some of the citizens but more as a public relations exercise although it did have the effect that there was a humane side to the proceedings.

Vietnamese Villagers
2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) soldiers checking Villagers in Hoa Long.
Photo:  AWM CAM/68/0137/VN

Even Joe’s brother thought the whole exercise was a bit of a game, much to my disgust. He requested Joe not to show any emotion whilst he called out an old man and gestured that he wanted to see his ID card. The poor old man produced a well-worn card that was many years old and probably issued during the French occupation. He kept touching the card and trying to indicate that it really was him in the photo. Joe’s brother showed him the ID card and then shook his head. The poor old man was beside himself outlining his face and body and pointing to the ID card. It was shameful and Joe could not keep up the charade, smiled and nodded to the old man which brought forth a toothy but relieved smile. Nevertheless, Joe had to acknowledge the real purpose of the search and accept that the discoveries made life better for both sides. Often VC and supporters were arrested which was a relief for the Villagers who had been forced to provide precious supplies and support for them.

Graham Lee and Rosie Thorne
104 Sig Sqn radio detachment members from 2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) in
Vietnamese Village Market area.  L-R Graham Lee and Rosie Thorne.
Photo supplied by Graham Lee (132-6)

Operations just seem to come around so quickly but Fire Support Patrol Base  Horseshoe was probably the pick of all of Joe’s placements. Although there were only two Signalmen from 104 Sig Sqn, it meant being rostered 4 hours on and 4 hours off for the 3 weeks whilst the Battalion’s Support Company remained. There a was not a lot of free time but it was an interesting time as there was so much going on every day. There were regular patrols in and around Dat Do, ambush patrols and 105 Howitzer fire missions. When the Americans conducted Napalm bombing using B52’s the explosive fire flashes could be seen “walking” up the Long Hai mountains. There was no sign of the B52 aircraft as they purportedly bombed from 60,000 feet. The Horseshoe had a great perimeter defence including the mine field from the lowest part of the hill to the sea. You could see for miles from the elevated fire pits and the pitch was so steep that it deterred any thought of an enemy attack from the direction.

Horseshore 1968
The Horseshoe in 1968.    Photo supplied by Ross Horsfall (129-6)

Re-supply and changeover of troops was usually managed by the Chinook Helicopters. It was amazing to see how much they could carry. They always looked like something out of a headless chicken cartoon but they were so reliable and real work horses. Slinging a 105 Howitzer and ammunition did not appear to affect its operation.

His mate Andy had always been a mite crazy when at school and a few years before being called up. Yet somehow, he had become an Assault Pioneer with 2RAR/NZ (ANZAC). He had ready access to plastic explosives, detonators and all those things that go bang when they shouldn’t. Anyway, he discovered that Andy and his brother who was with A Company had moved to the Horseshoe a few days earlier. So when Joe got out of the CP one evening he joined them for a chat, as happens when there is not much going on around the place except a fire mission.

Of course, everyone had to have a brew, so Joe fetched a billy of water and asked where the hexamine tablets were to boil the water. Andy and my brother just told him to put it down and they would fix it. Being quite happy to just sit back and be waited on Joe sat on his tosh. They were talking about something that had happened that day when Andy pulled a small lump of white stuff out of a square tube that looked a bit like lard. He stuck it on the hexamine stove and told Joe that it was C4 a plastic explosive. Joe nearly crapped himself and was out of that tent in a flash.

There was quite a bit of laughter so Joe thought that they had only been messing with him. To save a bit of face he reluctantly returned to the tent. Andy assured him that the white stuff was completely safe as it needed a detonator to set it off. Andy put a match to the stuff and it flared brightly and in a fleeting time the outside of the billy turned bright red and of course the water was boiling in a flash. Still wary of Andy but as the brew was ready, Joe decided to pretend that he was fine. Andy then told him to catch as he pulled the pin from a grenade and let the clip fly. Joe was out the tent and pretty pissed off at that time so went back to his hoochie. The following day they told him that they had removed the detonator so the grenade was not able to explode. Somehow, Andy got back to Australia unscathed, which had to be a miracle.

On 31 May 1968 2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) held a Memorial Service at Nui Dat to commemorate the men of the battalion, both Australian and New Zealand, who died during the battalion’s tour of South Vietnam. There were twenty-eight good men who lost their lives in what was supposed to be a war against the Communist Aggression. History now tells a different story.

2RAR departing Nui Dat
2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) soldiers departing Nui Dat to board HMAS Sydney for
return to Australia on the 1 June 1968.   Photo:  AWM P11600.008 (Robert Wickes).

I went to see my brother and mad mate Andy depart Nui Dat in a large convoy on their way to Vung Tau to board HMAS Sydney (AKA Vung Tau Ferry) for their return to Australia. With the arrival of 4RAR to replace 2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) there was a feeling that operating procedures would be changed to encompass the new Battalion’s Operational culture. Within two weeks, with changes happening quickly, Joe was recalled to 104 Signal Squadron which was somewhat of a relief after four and a half months being a Clayton’s Infantryman. Starting all over again to new procedures did not look that attractive to Joe but he wondered where his next deployment would be.

 Chapter 8 - OR’s Mess - 104 Signal Squadron

The Nash OR Boozer
104 OR's Mess (The Nash) in 1968 before being renamed 'The Abraham Club'
in honour of Dennis Abraham KIA 29 Sept 1968.
Photo supplied by George Donohue (112-5)

Joe said his goodbyes to Blue Joseph, Rose Thorne, Marty Pandelus and with his gear thrown in the back of the Squadron’s Land Rover, he travelled back to 104 Signal Squadron’s HQ. He found a place to put his head and to stow his gear in a well-used tent that had a decent set of sandbags, and deep foxholes surrounding its sides. It was located next to the RAAME Workshop where a few vehicle casualties lay abandoned. He was ordered to report to the OC upon arrival so he had done everything possible to look presentable and had even worked on shining up his boots. His SLR was also thoroughly cleaned and oiled with nothing up the spout just in case an inspection was on the cards.

Joe assumed that he was welcomed back as they knew who he was and he wasn’t balled out, so that was a good start. Without too much formality Joe was referred to 2nd Lieutenant (2Lt) Ken Twining who took him aside and was requested to followed him around the Squadron’s layout with the purpose of familiarisation in case there had been changes since he was last there. They must have forgotten that he had never spent a night there as he was shipped out to 2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) the night he arrived way back in January. Joe didn’t think it wise to mentioned that so kept his mouth shut and just paid attention. It was a good thing that was being shown around as he genuinely had no idea where anything was located.

Then Ken said, 'I have been looking at your record' and Joe thought, oh shit, who did I upset back at 2RAR/NZ (ANZAC). But that was not it. He said, 'you used to work in a shop before you were called up'.  Joe thought, I am not the smartest chip in the wood pile but I had no idea where he was going with this so I just acknowledged that he was correct. Then he said I know you are a radio operator but with your retail experience you are to be placed in charge of the OR’s Mess.

Joe had no idea what Ken was trying to tell him, and forgetting that he was still in the Army, he said, “Sir, You, have got to be joking.  Ken did not seem to hear me, as he went on to explain what my duties would be and here is the kicker. He said, 'You will be promoted to Lance Corporal to enable you to effectively manage the role'.   That really got Joe’s back up and he told Ken that he would have been happy if his time spent with 2RAR had been duly recognised in this way but not for this job. Joe said he was not interested and would prefer if Ken could place him back in the signal’s detachment with 4RAR or on to another unit as a radio operator which is what he was trained to do.

Then in a round-about way the 2Lt emphasised that Joe was still in the Army and only had about three more months before he would be returning to Australia for discharge. This could be extended by some time should disciplinary action be taken whereby time spent in detention would not be considered as time served. Joe was speechless, but reluctantly agreed that he would take on the duties but would do so as a signalman as he did not believe he deserved a promotion in such circumstances.   The 2Lt told him it was not negotiable and gave him 30 minutes to choose between the OR’s Mess or face disciplinary action for insubordination. Joe had to admit, the 2Lt had him over a barrel but at least made him wait the full 30 minutes before Joe capitulated.

Joe fronted up to the OR’s Mess which was just a shed (but with a great history), with tables and seating separated by a section which was politely called a bar but was just a dividing counter. Anyway, his first duty was to do an audit of the supplies. Beer, soft drinks, cigarettes, matches and some other long-life snacks, which remarkably tallied up with those recorded in the ruled-up exercise book posing as the OR’s Mess Ledger. Joe signed for the stock and was issued with the keys to the rusty steel mesh door which was the security for the squadron’s most ‘valuable asset’.  Joe tried to gather as much information from the departing maestro and received an introduction to an American GI who ran a facility in close proximity to the Mess.

Whilst the retail process was straight forward there was a financial constraint to ensure rigid stock control. Getting the supplies was the most difficult to arrange as transport was needed to ferry supplies from the American PX to the OR’s Mess. As stock was often audited by the 2Lt it was necessary to ensure both the ledger and stock count balanced and were within allocated controls. Difficult to hide additional resources in a tin shed.

The Nash - Drinks at the Front
Signalmen relaxing at the 104 Sig Sqn OR's Club 'The Nash' in early 1968.
Unit Kitchen (left) and OR's Mess Hall in the Background.
Photo supplied by Rob Hill (6-14)

In an environment where the Squadron operated 24/7 the OR’s Mess was an important meeting place to let the hair down, relax and have a bit of fun. Two cans, per man, per day, then back to duty or to the canvas tent became somewhat tedious. What was needed was the occasional celebration for a birthday, a visit from our outposted radio operators, someone going home, a happy hour or just to get pissed. Such events were good for morale and great for getting members of Squadron, many who were outposted to other units, to meet up with their colleagues.

To enable such important occasions to be successful it was essential that sufficient supplies be obtained. This could not be done through the severely restricted OR’s Mess fund. However, funds were readily available and easily collected in advance from all OR’s who wished to participate in the celebrations. This money was then passed on to our American friend who on our behalf was able to purchase unlimited amounts of booze and store it in his cooler until the hour of need. It worked a treat although heavy heads in the morning and the occasional reminder that some members really made a mess of themselves did tend to draw unwanted attention from those outside the Mess. But two cans, per man, per day was allegedly sufficient to put most of us on our ears was my response when ‘unruly’ behaviour was noted.

There was so much laughter, singing and even some forms of dancing once celebrations were well underway. Of course we had plenty of music from our PX purchased Tape Deck. All Joe had to do was keep the supply coming and dole it out to all the contributors. Our American benefactor was an honoured guest so was on tap to replenish the supply from his refrigeration facility. Very little money changed hands as it was only for smokes, long-life accompaniments and from the occasional purchase from those who had not contributed.

One person not happy with proceedings just happened to let a certain officer know that alcohol had been issued to a member after hours. It was claimed that this member was on duty and whilst contributing to the celebrations was unable to attend. Of course, this was absolutely denied, and not one person had witnessed such an act. When questioned as to the condition of some of the troops, Joe replied that when in the field where no alcohol was available it only took a couple of cans of beer to affect them yet refusal of further supplies to those exhibiting any forms of aggression was for firmly enforced. Joe could never recall any acts of violence occurring during the celebrations.

Cleaning up afterwards should have produced a mass of empties but our benefactor took care of those as well. All Joe had to do was ensure that the stock on hand, money and ledger tallied. It was not a difficult job. Trading commenced again that evening as the hair of the dog was a necessity.

Joe’s last recollection of the OR’s Mess was on his last night in Vietnam where he had to face the traditional challenge of sculling a “Vietnamese Slipper.” Refusal was not an option and with the constant vocal encouragement of “down, down, down” Joe somehow managed to drain the Yard Glass without spilling too much. Joe steadied himself and as the cheers of the mob subsided, staggard out the door for some fresh air. He fell over the sandbags surrounding the mortar pit and brought up all that bravado. When he awoke up he was still fully dressed although covered in mud. The overnight rain had all but cleaned up any remnants of the night’s celebrations so there was no incriminating evidence and so Joe’s successful accomplishment of seeing through the departing ritual was safeguarded.

After a quick clean up and already packed for movement to Tan Son Nhat Airport Joe, although extremely seedy said his final farewells.

Joe wished to advise that he was not responsible for the behaviour of F Troop (AKA Radio Troop) although the OR’s Mess may have been a venue that they occasionally frequented.

After much stuffing around, finally boarded a Qantas Flight to Sydney yet did not relax until we had cleared the shores of South Vietnam and had a couple of tinnies as well.

Tour of Duty 1968 by Graham Lee 
Click on the Image:  Super 8 film taken and edited by Graham Lee during his tour with 2RAR/NZ (ANZAC) and 104 Sig Sqn in 1968.  
Film 52:45 minutes
(YouTube)


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