Eyewitness (36 page)

The world was at last learning that the Americans were losing their first war.

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Lunn’s assistant/fixer.

Gary McKay

Australia’s involvement in the Vietnam War began with Australian Army Training Team Vietnam in 1962, but the major force was committed in June 1965 when 1st Battalion Royal Australian Regiment served with the American 173 Airborne Brigade. In March 1966 this became a brigade-sized Task Force, which had its own area to look after – Phuoc Tuy Province, inland from the coast east of Saigon. The major battles Australians were involved in were Long Tan (August 1966), Fire Bases Coral and Balmoral (May 1968), Binh Ba (June 1969) and Nui Le (September 1971). Most troops were out by December 1971.

Lieutenant Gary McKay led 11 Platoon in this battle, the last Australians fought, was badly wounded and awarded the Military Cross.
In Good Company
is in the best tradition of the soldier writer, and tells the story of a not-so-reluctant ‘nasho’ in 1968 who enjoyed army life, did well in extreme situations in Vietnam, retired as a Lieutenant-Colonel, and became a full-time writer. He is the author of several other books about Vietnam.

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At about 3.15 p.m. the company commander called the platoon commanders back into the headquarters for an orders group. I took my forward observer’s assistant, Russ Pullen, in with me and wondered what was going to eventuate. We sat down in a tight circle and listened to what Jerry Taylor had to say. He told us we were going to attack the bunker system in a classic ‘two platoons up, one in depth’ company formation. It was to be just like our last company attack but without the Centurion tanks. It was not expected that we would encounter too much opposition as reports seemed to indicate that the enemy were fleeing from the bunker system as a result of the continual artillery and air strikes we had put in.

The moment the company commander said that we were going into the system my guts turned over. I felt a dry feeling in my throat and my stomach was churning. For some reason I didn’t feel too good about going into this system. I wasn’t sure if I was scared or just running out of nerve, but from the look on Kevin Byrne’s and Graham Spinkston’s faces, I wasn’t the only one who had the wind up. Major Taylor told us to take it really easy as we didn’t want another great fire fight on our hands. He added that if we ran into trouble, we should not take any unnecessary risks.

With legs feeling a little like jelly I returned to the platoon and made up a set of orders for our attack. My platoon was to be the right forward platoon in the assault and 10 Platoon would be on our left. I decided that we would need protection on our flank as we didn’t know exactly where the limits of the bunker system were and so I opted for a formation with two sections up and one in single file on our right flank. For extra firepower I put the floating gun right in the middle between the two sections. I called the section commanders in and delivered my orders.

It was the hardest set of orders I ever had to give. I had to sound confident and unafraid and yet I was shit-scared deep down inside. The men reacted very well, probably because they thought that we weren’t going to hit too many enemy. I reminded them that artillery didn’t do a real lot of damage to the bunkers we had encountered before, and that once we had crossed the start line in the assault we would be on our stomachs all the way.

While I was giving my orders the men were being issued with extra ammunition and grenades. By 3.45 p.m. we were formed up into our company assault formation and ready to go. The company forward observer was calling in artillery and adjusting it to soften up any resistance. I must have checked my watch a dozen times while we were waiting, to commence the attack.

Just before we were about to cross the start line someone came up to where I was lying on the ground and handed me a sandbag with about a dozen grenades in it. Time was running out, so I handed a couple around to the men nearest me and stuffed about six or more down my shirt as my ammo pouches were full. We stood up and in a half-crouch started to move forward in the assault. We were doing dry fire and movement so that not too many people were up off the ground at any one time. We moved forward very slowly using hand signals and making as little noise as we could. After about five minutes or so we had moved into the system about 100 metres and found the first bunkers. I gave the signal for everyone to start doing fire and movement on their fronts and to crawl instead of crouch.

We must have gone another 30 metres or so when suddenly the platoon came under withering small arms and machine-gun fire. The ferocity and intensity of the enemy fire was stunning. It took me several seconds to realise we had been caught in a fire lane between bunkers and that we were in big trouble. My soldiers started returning fire but they had trouble getting their heads up to locate a target. In addition to the bullets flying around, the enemy were firing rocketpropelled grenade rounds into the trees above our heads and raining shrapnel down upon us. I realised after a minute or so that my machine-guns weren’t firing and so I moved forward to see what was happening. Moving wasn’t easy as the enemy fire was just above our heads as we lay on the ground, and I lost my hat to a bullet somewhere during this move. I crawled about ten metres to where our assault line was and then traversed sideways to where the guns should have been.

Ralph Niblett had been hit in the chest quite badly and was lying on his stomach in a semi-conscious state. I yelled out to Frank Wessing to come forward and get Ralph back out of the firing line. I then noticed that Ralph’s number two on his gun was also not moving. I moved over to check him out. It was one of the new men in the platoon, who had only been with us a few days. He had been shot in the head and was dead. I took the gun ammunition off Niblett and his offsider and kept moving along the assault line. The enemy firing had not slackened one bit and was a constant chatter and slapping noise above our heads. I passed a couple of men who were desperately trying to get behind cover and get into a fire position. They told me that Kiwi Powell’s gun wasn’t firing, so I moved across to check it out. After crawling around for a couple of minutes I came across Kingston- Powells and his gun number: they had both been killed, again suffering head wounds.

One of my Diggers, Pte ‘Fred’ Casson, known affectionately as ‘The Mask’, was busy taking the gun ammo and gun off the dead gun crew as I arrived. I had to remind him to keep his head down. The rounds from the enemy weapons were smashing into the ground and trees all around us as Casson worked feverishly to get the gun and gather the linked ammo. I told him to leave the bodies where they were and get himself out of the fire lane and get some covering fire from the gun under way. This he did with incredible coolness and bravery.

I returned to where Ralph Niblett was lying and started to drag Ralph back to safety where we could treat him. My medic was moving toward me and I handed Ralph over and told him to get Niblett rearward as quickly as possible. It wasn’t easy dragging anyone as there were a lot of vines impeding the way and to stand up and get leverage was asking to be shot.

I grabbed the radio handset off my signaller and told the company commander that we had met stern resistance and that a fire lane was preventing me going forward. I indicated that I had lost four men already in an attempt to go forward and I didn’t like my chances for a second try. He told me to hold where I was and he would check out what help I could get. Meanwhile the forward observer’s assistant was calling down artillery fire right in as close as we could safely dare in an endeavour to break off the intense fire to which we were being subjected. After a couple of minutes the company commander came back and said we would pull back from where we were and cut our losses. I thought that was a great idea: I told my section commanders to be ready to move rearwards much the same way we had come into the bunker system.

I moved forward to where I could see the fighting a little better and to recover Ralph’s gun. I gave my rifle to someone and told him to hang onto it until we got back to our start line. I crawled forward again to where the gun was and checked it out to make sure it hadn’t been damaged. I then rolled the dead soldier over and took off one of his dog tags and put it in my shirt pocket. I clamped the other dog tag in the man’s mouth, which was standard procedure.

Just as I started to crawl back to my position the enemy started to intensify his fire and began moving in small groups to where we were lying. The soldiers started firing at the assaulting enemy who didn’t seem to be too sure exactly where we were. I set up the gun and started shooting at the enemy who were moving from bunker to bunker in what appeared to be an attempt to get around behind us or onto our flank. I wasn’t sure if my ears were playing tricks on me at this stage or not but I was sure I heard bugles being blown behind the enemy who were moving around to my front.

It was at this time that I experienced the eerie feeling of shooting a man and watching him fall. All our previous actions had been in reasonably heavy undergrowth and often you didn’t see the result of your shooting until it was all over. But these enemy were intent on crossing a patch of open ground from behind a couple of bunkers across to another bunker. As they tried to cross I gave the centre of the group a short burst and saw the men being hit and fall down on their backsides. It wasn’t like one normally expects after watching television and war movies. There was no great scream from the wounded but simply a grunt and then an uncontrolled collapse to the ground. Several feelings swept over me after I had shot and killed a man. One was relief in that it meant he could no longer kill me. Another was a sense of awe as I witnessed the terrible power and effect of the weapon when it hit the target. Once the fighting was over and the time came to search the dead, I noticed it was usually done in silence and men didn’t often say very much. There was a noticeable lack of discussion or comment. I think all of us were inwardly saying to ourselves, ‘There, but for the grace of God, go I.’ It is a most unsettling feeling when you look at a body which minutes before was a living being and shared the same likes and dislikes, the same fears and hopes and probably wanted the war to end as much as anybody else. This was an awesome sensation and I was almost transfixed by the spectacle of it until the enemy started shooting in my direction and I was forced into taking cover.

My shooting had the desired effect of stopping the enemy outflanking us, but it made life for me bloody uncomfortable as he then directed all his fire my way. I yelled out to my platoon sergeant to get the platoon back so we could secure our flank with 10 Platoon and the rest of the company. The next ten or fifteen minutes was a series of fire and movement actions where I used the gun to slow down the enemy and break contact for rearward movement. When I had gone backwards about 75 metres I suddenly remembered all the grenades I had down my shirt front. As I only had a couple of hundred rounds of gun ammunition left, I decided to get rid of all of them. This had a great effect on the enemy as I rapidly threw all the grenades in succession and then I bolted back to the security of the platoon.

We were still about 75 metres from our start point and we needed to get ourselves sorted out fairly quickly. I found out at this stage that Darryl had been hit in the upper arm by some shrapnel, probably from a rocket-propelled grenade; he would need to be taken out. Corporal Warren Dowell, who was the company support section commander, appeared on the scene and gave directions for finding our way back to the rest of the company which was currently regrouping. He did a great job helping me sort out the chaos of men returning from the assault line and being put down on the ground in all-round defence.

I had left the dead soldiers where they were, because trying to extricate them only meant going back into the fire lane and exposing oneself to heavy and concentrated fire. My immediate concern, now that everyone was back on the ground and linked up with the rest of the company, was to get the severely wounded out. Ralph Niblett was being looked after by our company medic, Cpl Mick O’Sullivan. Mick was not an infantry stretcher-bearer; he belonged to the Medical Corps and he had done a great job already that day patching up the half a dozen or so wounded the company had taken. A chopper pad was located just to the rear of where the company had reorganised and was suitable for winching people out through the canopy either by litter or on a device which resembled an upside-down umbrella, known as a jungle penetrator. I went across to where Ralph was being prepared for casevac and checked out how he was. He looked pretty crook and I tried to reassure him that he would be OK and that he would be in hospital surrounded by pretty nurses in no time. Ralph was a Victorian and due to return to Australia in only a couple of weeks’ time, having completed his national service duty. He looked up at me from his stretcher on the ground and said that he didn’t think he was going to make the VFL grand final. One of his best mates, Pte- ‘Jethro’ Hannah was kneeling next to him and told him not to be silly and that he was going to be OK. Ralph just looked straight into our eyes and said ‘No I’m not, I’m stuffed.’ We quickly loaded him onto the dust-off helicopter from 9 Squadron R.A.A.F. which had had trouble getting close to the winch point as it was being shot at by the enemy as it approached our position. Just as we hooked the winch cable onto the litter, I noticed that Ralph’s eyes glazed over. I knew then that we had lost him. About two minutes after the chopper had left, bound for the field hospital at Vung Tau, a radio message came through from the helicopter pilot saying he was sorry to tell us that his charge had died.

It was a terrible feeling that swept over me. I had known Ralph Niblett quite well and he was not only a good Digger but a likeable man. He was popular in the platoon and his death was felt keenly. I think what made it worse with Ralph was that unlike our other three men, we had seen him die. Their death had been detached from us when we were all scrambling for cover and fire positions during the attack. Hannah felt the loss a great deal. I had to remind him of his responsibility as a senior soldier in the platoon and to concentrate on his job.