C Company

THE NOMINAL ROLL put US at 130 strong by the time attachments such as gunners, medics, cooks and the like were squeezed in.

But the tour was not a list of statistics. The heart of the matter deals with 12 months of people, personalities and experiences in various shades, shape and size.

Apart from the company's achievements, every soldier took away with him a feeling of having belonged to something of having taken part in the events which now live on as tales and jokes.

And these tales are endless. Ever watched six feet of bronzed Anzac nuzzling up to nearly 3o lbs of "black fighting metal" (an M60 to the uninitiated) in the wet? Or seen a scruffy little Digger looking for his teeth at 8.45 p.m. (?) in the Grand? Or, perhaps, heard about the officer of field rank who didn't realise formation commanders are sometimes only frustrated traffic cops?

The men changed during the year. To a bewildered newcomer there was nothing more disquieting than a battle-seasoned hero bursting forth with, "She'll be right mate. On-the-job training sorts out the men from the boys."

Wire picquets, RSM's work parties, TAOR patrols, the boozer, red dirt, the concert parties, stand to, those noisy ruddy tanks, that tin hat, the soldier's best mate--a rifle--and even the trip to the Peter Badcoe Club generate stories, though memories of visits to the club are a little hazy.

Is it not strange that some of the most humorous events arise from near disasters and terrifying situations? Two such occasions for the company were both with the compliments of the United States Air Force.

First the company was strafed with 20mm cannon, and on the next occasion a plane flying a combat sky spot mission dropped its 750 lb bomb on top of the company.

In the bombing incident one of the FO's party, a certain Gnr Gorrick, was heard, amid a shower of din and debris, to scream, "Skip, my God, I'm cut in two." Then, feeling no blood or pain, followed it up with a relieved sigh, "Don't worry, Skip, I'm only crushed.' The sitrep from battalion headquarters described it as a near miss. Seven Platoon will assure you it was a direct hit.

Major Brian Lindsay commanded the company until January 1969 and after Operation Goodwood handed over the reins to Major Morrison's Admin Company.

Major Lindsay had a theory which amused most people in and out of the company. He believed that anywhere you found red, gritty soil you would find an enemy camp. If tracks were evident or there was water nearby that would be more than enough to convince him.

So sure of his theory was he that once he had an area heavily engaged with artillery without a bunker being seen. He was right. The next day the company walked into a system of 150 bunkers. There's one for JTC training--tread softly when you see red soil.

Major Morrison (sometimes fondly referred to as the "Angry Ant") found himself one day in a situation where he was caught literally with his pants down. The OC had his trousers round his ankles and was having some paint applied to his backside by the company medic, Pte Charlie

Sparrow, when the platoon protecting company headquarters engaged a group of VC. By the time the OC had returned his trousers to their normal position all pit space had been taken up!

The CSM, WOII Doug Burke, obtained a souvenir from the bombing incident--a piece of shrapnel about two and a half feet long. Prior to RTA it was rumoured the shrapnel was going home too- to be worn as a bow tie at the local RSL. That warry should be worth a beer or two.

The company was backed up well by Ssgt "Jesse" James, his off-sider, Lcpl Herbie Becke, Sgt Trevor Graham and his cooks, and Cpl Charlie Stewart. They made sure the company was always well looked after in base and in the bush.

Black Friday

Twenty young men started that day,

Charlie was active not far away

They were given the task, "Follow that track,"

Once they got started they didn't look back.

The scout sighted a bunker- a sign to go slow,

There may be trouble- they really don't know.

The first one's OK- no Charlie in there,

But men mustn't relax- still walk with care

Moving with caution to the bunker ahead,

One bad move and some may be dead.

A second one cleared- no VC in there,

But wait, up ahead, are there any up there?

- 2 -

A dea[ening roar shatters the air,

Someone is hit on the flank over there

The skipper gives orders, "We've got to push on,"

Through this bloody bamboo it's really no [un.

A section is sent around to the right,

These Charlie can really be tough in a fight.

The sig has been hit --a round in the chest,

The boss gets him out- they all do their best

A section starts to come in [rom the side,

But the gunner is killed- bravely he died.

Another man [alls- the skipper is hit,

And that VC keeps firing, sa[e in his pit.

Slowly they advance, firing as one,

But by this time a lot o~ ammo is gone

The boss is hit in the leg once again,

But he doesn't bow to the terrible pain.

The sergeant is up there leading them on,

They all know well there's a job to be done.

And so, after a well aimed grenade,

The top ol the rise is finally made

Charlie has gone- beaten at last,

But he [ought well in the hour that passed.

The firing has stopped, it's time to take stock,

Three dead and six wounded, a terrible shock.

Mick, Jock and Mike all fought to the end,

And many a man lost a good [riend

It was a hard fight and tough,

But these boys are men when the going is rough.

There was an omen that some may have seen,

For this patrol on Friday thirteen.

SIGN..........GUEST BOOK ..........VIEW