Making A Spectacle.

Abstract: This is the story of an Australian Soldier who is sent in from the bush to Saigon to have a new pair of spectacles made. It seems he only had one pair of spectacles, and regulations required that he have two. Flying into Saigon the Soldier has various adventures while snuggling down in the, compared to the bush, luxurious accommodations and fringe benefits that Saigon provided visitors. Finally found out, he is booted out of Saigon and returns to the bush.

We were on operations out in the bush in Phuoc Tuy province in the wet season and had been out for a week or so when it came time for a helicopter resupply. Our policy on resupplies was that they were to be avoided if at all possible, for as long as possible, so that the VC would have a hard time getting any idea of where we were. This meant we humped four of five days worth of food, water, batteries, ammo etc. most of the time. We also often ambushed our back trail to remove any pesky trail followers, which undoubtedly made it an unpopular duty for the local VC.

To reduce the huge weight load, we generally discarded everything unnecessary including most of the contents of C-ration packs, carrying only the meat, some biscuits, tea, sugar and the juicy cans of fruit. One shovel and one machete was carried between two, we carried very basic sleeping gear and we even got down to sharing shaving gear at on stage. I and my comrades in arms stank, we smelt much worse than most animals and because it was the wet season and we’d been crossing a few muddy creeks, we had encrusted mud up to our knees, our uniforms were something a hobo would have turned his nose up at, torn and held together with black safety pins from ammunition bandoleers. We were also pale from too much time under tree canopies and had a few ugly skin diseases, particularly ring tinea.

We secured the LZ and the choppers swooped in with more food, some basic medical supplies and a few replacement pairs of trousers. Suddenly I heard my name being called. “Sherro, get on the chopper!” My most recent sins flashed before my eyes, had they discovered my multiple PX ration cards, was it about too my many clap infections, or was it the quite serious death threat I’d given to a particular NCO – a person who really needed TWEEPing? No one seemed to know and I was more than a little worried.

On the Huey conversation was impossible and I was relieved of my webbing, pack and weapon. Hmmm, this was getting serious – they didn’t even trust me with a weapon anymore! It was a long flight and I was unceremoniously dumped at Tan Son Nhut airport in Saigon and I received my orders: “Get a spare pair of spectacles.” and a grubby piece of paper with a pencil scrawled address.

Some hyper-efficient base clerk had noticed that I had only one pair of glasses and cut orders for me to go and get a spare pair. My problem was that I had no money, no ID, I was filthy and smelly and there was no one to collect me. By this time I was ravenously hungry, so I walked along toward the city and on the way I noticed a US Army military hospital. I could smell food. Strolling in I noticed a buxom American female Major (A round-eyed female!!!!) walking towards me, so I tentatively said: “Excuse me lady, can you tell me where I can get a feed around here?”.

Australians were still a rarity at that time in Vietnam and the good Major stopped dead in her tracks, quite perplexed at being addressed as ‘lady’ by a very grubby soldier and she reared up and said: “Goddamn it soldier, WHAT goddamn army are you from?” On being apprised that I was a starving, penniless Aussie, I then was swept into the Officers Mess and royally fed, with a bunch of very attractive females at the table all talking to me – but at a bit of a distance, because my B.O. had definitely not subsided. I was fairly spaced out as I hadn’t been near ANY women for quite a time, let alone round-eyes and I didn’t know where to look. There was a CHOICE of meals, all of the chocolate milk you could ingest, real coffee, Vietnamese chefs, waitresses and kitchen staff and the steaks were wonderful. Some time later, with a few belts of hard liquor, a first class restaurant quality meal in me and good will towards the whole of the USA, I wandered ever onwards in my quest for spectacles.

I still had no money, no transport and no ID, so I did the next best thing I could do and hailed the next Military Police vehicle I saw. It screeched to a halt and both leapt out with hands on nightsticks and .45 Autos respectively. People normally didn’t hail MPs unless there was serious trouble. After explaining my predicament they drove me down to the place not far way where spectacles were being prescribed and dropped me off. On walking in to the building there was a huge queue of US servicemen, being serviced by one Vietnamese female clerk and a Vietnamese eye specialist. Most had spotlessly clean uniforms, highly polished boots (some patent leather!) or shoes and an amazing variety of unit badges, lanyards and ribbons.

A queue? I wanted to go out and get drunk and laid -- not necessarily in that order. As I strode purposely up to the head of the queue I could hear mutterings behind me, “probably special forces, naaah, been out in the boonies, maybe a LURP, aargh goddamn he stinks!”

Presenting myself, I put on my best British Officer accent and ramrod straight back (like Michael Caine) went snake-eyed flinty hard and chilly and said: “Kelly, Colonel Edward, Australian Army for an eye test, now!” Ned Kelly the outlaw, and our most famous bushranger had his name misused many times in Vietnam. It was a in-house joke. The Vietnamese lady queried my lack of rank badges and was curtly informed: “We don’t wear ANY badges of rank in the field!” (Which happened to be true). Swiftly I was in and out of the door with my prescription.

Back on the streets I called up another MP taxi and we sped towards Cholon where the Optical Unit was, through heavy insane traffic. The road rules were: “every man for himself” and there seemed to be a sort of reckless Kamikaze attitude to life and death on the roads by the Vietnamese. The MPs coped with this by driving at high speed, whistles shrilling and banging the side of their jeep with nightsticks. I was much appreciative of their help and on reaching the edge of their patrol sector they linked up with another MP jeep who deposited me at the Optical Unit which was stationed in Cholon.

The Optical Unit was an amazing place, a sort of long air-portable camper trailer with a bunch of soldiers running it. Prescription one end, spectacles out the other end in GI issue frames in about ten minutes. Absolutely unbelievable! The Australian Army wouldn’t even have contemplated such an idea. I was quite impressed.

Finally I found the Hotel where Australian troops stayed in Saigon, managed to draw a small amount of pay on the strength of my dog tags, have a shower and get ANOTHER PX ration card and I hit the streets. A few quick trips to the PX and a couple of black market transactions and into the bars where I settled into my natural element. After a couple of days of totally licentious behaviour and bawdy unofficial R&C, one of the Sergeants at the Hotel grabbed me and said:
Sergeant:
“Sherrington, you’ll be on guard piquet tonight.” Sherro:
“I’m not attached to your unit Sergeant.” (I just blew it!)
Sergeant (no fool, he could detect a dodgy digger at 20 feet) with his eyes going slitted:
“So what IS your unit.”
Sherro (sweating):
“Aaaar -- 5RAR, Nui Dat.”
Sergeant – now smelling a whole nest of rats:
“So what’re you here for?”
Sherro:
“To get a pair of spectacles.”
Sergeant:
“Have you got them yet?” Sherro – shuffling feet:
“Yes….”
Sergeant -- getting a little florid:
“So why haven’t you returned to your unit???”
Sherro – now in full ‘dumb grunt’ mode:
“Arrr, no one told me to go back sarge…”
A few minutes later I was in front of a very angry officer who said:
“I’ve had several unsavoury reports about you, Private Sherrington, the duty vehicle is outside, it’ll take you to Tan Son Nhut now, you’ll take the first available chopper back to your unit, don’t EVER let me see you in front of me again!”

The chopper was going on another resupply mission to my unit, it stopped long enough to pick up my webbing and rifle which were waiting for me at Luscombe field and I then had four star accelerated movement back into the bush with a boot up the arse and seriously in the scheiss. Another black star on my record. Sometimes armies can be far too efficient for fun loving soldiers.