Drowning in Her Eyes (31 page)

Sarah sat and looked at the documents laid out before her. Her divorce had become final; she had been married less than two years.
How did this happen
, she wondered. She thought of the love she had had for John, of the longing she had had to make love to him, how he had welcomed the news of her pregnancy.
How had this happened
? She thought back over the last year and began to understand the role her mother had played in all
of it
. Sarah had been weak, still young and dominated by her mother. She had always been a little capricious, now she began to blame her mother for her unhappiness.

W
inter set in.
It snowed
and snowed. Blizzards swept down from the Maritim
es and Newfoundland. They couldn
'
t leave the house for days on end. The girls often thought of those sunny brisk days of winter in Armidale. Christmas came to a house filled with tension and hate, populated by a domineering, bitter mother and two r
esentful and unhappy daughters.

Jimbo was unhappy too, but next year he would be eighteen
and
could escape this poisonous place.

Bien Hoa Air Base, South Vietnam
—1967

Lt. Jack Riordan walked down the ramp of the USAF C130 Hercules transport aircraft at Bien Hoa. He had thought this place looked impressive from the air, as much as he could see through thick clouds. Here, on the tarmac, it was even more impressive. All around he saw aircraft, both combat and transport, both South Vietnamese and American, taking off and landing in a continuous roar amid the stink of jet fuel. Trucks, jeeps, and forklifts were everywhere, loading, unloading, and scurrying here and there. Jack saw line after line of helicopters, Bell UH-
1 Iroquois, known as Hueys, like the ones he had trained with, taking off and landing. Overall, a choking cloud of red dust dimmed what sun had penetrated the cloud cover. It was oppressively hot.

Jack had come via Richmond RAAF Base in Australia, with two other officers, one an engineer, the other a gunner. Jack had made a major decision about his military career. He had taken up a six-
month secondment to the regular army, as an infantry officer attached to
Eleventh
Battalion, Royal Australian Regiment. The assignment these three officers had was three-
fold. Firstly, to assess the fitness and quality of the United States troops. Secondly, to do the same for the South Vietnamese. Thirdly to look at improvements in the integration of Australian and United States forces. The gunner, Captain Dave Donald, was in overall command. Lt. Allen Scott was to make assessments fro
m an engineering point of view.

Jack had approached this assignment with a fatalistic attitude. What could they do to him, kill him? He was already half dead inside. He despaired of ever seeing Susan again. He told his mother of this at his last visit to
Ballinrobe
. Helen was despondent. She could see how much her beautiful son suffered and tried to boost him a little.
“Jack,
” she said,
“You have the rest of your life before you, fifty years or more. Denni is having a baby;
Ballinrobe
needs you. Ollie will not be here forever. I will not be here forever. Paddy needs you to carry on your stewardship. There is great potential here. Maybe someday someone else will come into your life to make you complete.
” Jack shook his head. Helen did not know about her granddaughter, she did not know how committed he was to the idea that Susan was waiting for him.

A Jeep screeched to a halt beside them, driven by a very relaxed Negro Corporal, smoking a reefer. He looked at Dave.

”Y
'all de Aussie guys? Jump in here
,
man, Major do wan
' see y
'all.
”

The three officers looked at each other.
“C
'mon, move yo ass. Ah got tings to do
.
” They got into the Jeep. The driver set off in a shriek of tortured tyres. They sped across the field and came to a sliding stop outside a long building.
“Dis
‘ere
's de Officer Quarters. Y
'all come back here after you be seein
' de Major.
” The Jeep sped off again and about 100 yards later, after the driver had gone up and down all four gears, they arrived at a larger building.

“Ok, move yo ass, dis
‘ere
's where y
'all goin
'.
”

They walked into a building that was obviously some kind of administrative centre. There was a reception area ahead with a cluster of enlisted men gathered in front of it. They all appeared to be
s
ergeants.

“Bugger me, that driver was a card. I hope they
're not all like that,
” said Allen.

“I
'd like to see a bit more discipline,
” said Dave,
“What do you think, Jack?
”

“Well, he would have been in for a surprise if I
'd had him when I was a CSM.
”

The soldiers had disappeared. A smart looking Corporal looked over at them.
“Sir, are you the Australian officers on detachment? Major Wood will see you now.
”

Major Wood was a small, dapper white man. His uniform was crisply starched; he wore two rows of medal ribbons despite the fact he had never fired a shot in anger; he looked like
he
had just stepped out of a recruiting poster. He waited standing near his desk. No one moved. No one spoke. The three Australians looked expectantly at him. Finally, he snapped,
“Don
't you salute anymore?
”

“Major,
” said Dave,
“In our army you don
't salute an officer when he is not wearing a hat. It is rude because he cannot return your salute. In any case, we do not salute officers in the field. It makes their rank evident to any enemy who are watching, especially snipers.
”

The American looked slightly embarrassed.
“Sorry, gents,
” he said,
“my mistake. Please accept my apologies. I have a lot to learn about you Aussies. Please take a seat. I will have my clerk bring in some coffee, and then we can get on with our briefing. They chatted about their different countries, about their armies. Major Wood decided, after hearing some of Dave
's tall tales that he would go
to Australia on his next leave.

Finally, they got down to business.

“Gentlemen,
” said the Major,
“The general situation is a little confused. We are in control of all the major towns and cities. Our troops are continually sweeping areas for Viet Cong and NVA. Many times, we find no one, so it appears we have been successful in cleaning out areas of the enemy. Our body counts are good and we expect to secure the majority of the country by the end of this year.
”

That was not what Jack had understood from the Australian intelligence summaries. They told of a strengthening of the Viet Cong in all areas, and the desertion of large numbers of the ARVN, the South Vietnamese Army.

Wood continued their briefing. Finally, the American officer
summarized,
“You are each assigned to a unit of our forces, to spend two to three weeks with them. You will go into the field with them; you will be up close and personal so you can turn in accurate reports. You will return to your quarters now and I will see you for dinner in the Officers Club at 1930 hours.
”

They walked back to their quarters. Many soldiers passed them by. None saluted them. Most of the Negro troops were smoking weed, and carrying large boom boxes on their shoulders, blasting out Motown and
the
Rolling Stones. When they reached their quarters, they unpacked their gear and met to discuss what they had seen. Dave said,
“I didn
't like much of what I
've seen. They seem to have plenty of equipment and plenty of troops, but I think they may be fooling themselves about winning this year or next year for that matter.
”

Jack said,
“I have a different viewpoint to a regular officer. I was a reserve
;
I was a Private, then a NCO
.
I lived with my men and I think I can understand the view from the ranks. The best troops work from the bottom up, from the sections to platoons to companies. It seems to me these boys do it the opposite way. Anyway, we will soon find out.
”

The Officers Club was an impressive place. Bars, dining rooms, a library and other amenities. Major Wood was waiting for them.
“I guess you guys could use a beer?
” He went to the bar and came back with four Budweiser long necks. Jack had not tasted this beer, but it was pleasant, and, more importantly, very cold. They had another round.

The dining room was a real education. White tablecloths, sparkling wine glasses, service by white-
coated stewards, and an impressive menu. Jack saw pork chops, chicken, steak. He thought about his compatriots in the jungle. Their officers would be eating from cans with their men in some dark, dank place.

Fire Base Romeo, South Vietnam
—1967

I
n the morning, they flew out to their designated assignments. Jack took an Iroquois flight to Fire Base Romeo, well to the west of the air base. The crew chief tried to point out some features but the clatter of the rotor blades drowned him out. They flared out in a cloud of the now-
familiar red dust. The chopper waited only seconds while Jack tumbled out and some wounded men were loaded, then it was gone.

T
he m
ajor in command met him in his command bunker.
“Afternoon, my friend, welcome to hell!
” Then he took him on a tour of the base. It occupied the top of a low hill. All around, the vegetation had been cleared and the ground sown with mines. There were several pathways out through the minefields; a double fence of barbed wire encircled the whole base. Half a dozen .50 calibre heavy machine guns, protected by sand bags, occupied overlapping fields of fire. Fire trenches, situated in strategic positions, contained many M60s. A battery of 105mm Howitzers provided artillery support.
“We patrol from here regularly but not at night. We usually sweep in
c
ompany strength and clean out hideouts and villages. If we find caches of food or ammo, we destroy them. We have an ARVN man with us to interpret and advise on the disposition of any prisoners we collect. There is a patrol going out at daylight. Do you want to go with it?
”

“That
's what I
'm here for,
” replied Jack.

“Ok. You will go with Captain White
's Fox Company. We
'll meet him later.
” Captain White was black. He was a huge man with an engaging grin.
“Nice to have you with us. We can always use another rifle,
” he said.
“Just stick with me and keep your head down. The Marine Recon boys will have a patrol out. They operate in small numbers, probably a squad or smaller. Have you gone hot before?
”
‘Gone hot
' meant
,
‘have you been under fire?
' Jack shook his head.
“Nothing to it,
” said White,
“We
've got some great medics. See you back here at 0400.
” Jack went off to his assigned bunker to prepare for the patrol. First, he checked out all his webbing, made sure his water bottles were full, and then checked his ammunition. He had four magazines for his SLR and another
one hundred
rounds loose. He had two spare magazines for his Browning High Power pistol. He topped off with a couple of M26 grenades and two Willie Petes. This done, he spent some time thinking about what would happen in the morning. He was confident in his ability, a little nervous about his mortality. Finally, he slept.