1rar02

THE ATTACK

Supplied to me by a mate Alan Burkhill (thanks Alan)

Peter Rothwell, a professional soldier saw active service as an infantryman in the Korean War and the Malayan Emergency. Commissioned in 1961, he has served twice in Vietnam. His initial tour was with the First Battalion, the Royal Australian Regiment, the first Australian Infantry Battalion to see action in the war.

In 1968 he served with the Australian Army Training Team Vietnam on attachment to the United States Army Special Forces (Green Berets). PROLOGUE
This is a story of Australian soldiers who fought in the war in Vietnam. As a professional soldier I was given the opportunity to put into practice what I had been trained to do as an infantryman over a number of years: 'To close with the enemy and to kill him': Now twenty years later as I approach the end of my middle years, I look back to that period with some nostalgia and mixed thoughts of the good times tempered with some memories of pain, despair and hardship. Most of all I remember the soldiers with whom I served. We had a number of things in common-with very few exceptions we were all native born Australians, we were all professional soldiers, we were all in it together, but the most important thing is we were young and because of that we looked upon it as an adventure. Some of our number were wounded, others were killed, but most of us survived. As our nation was involved in the war for a decade, a number of us returned to Vietnam where the process of wounding and being wounded, killing and being killed was repeated.
As a small professional army we were fortunate to have had the post-World War II experience of the Korean conflict together with the anti-terrorist campaign in Malaya. This gave our battalion competent command leadership in the field officer, warrant officer and non-commissioned officer ranks. This in turn affected the men who had a gut feeling that their leaders knew what it was all about.
In the armies of the world over the last century the Australian soldier has proved himself to be unique. He will not blindly obey orders and will quickly voice his opinion when he senses incompetence in leadership especially at the eyeball levels of command. He will put up with most hardships, in most cases without complaint, retaining his sense of humor. He will look after his mates regardless of the danger involved. The most important thing is his ability to not quit until the job is done.
Vietnam, with some exceptions, was a war of seeking out the enemy and killing him by relentless patrolling and ambushing, at rifle company, platoon and section level, both by day and night in all weather. The larger force structure was there with the prime function of command, coordination and logistical control. It was an infantryman's war of the rapid deployment of small units, usually by helicopter, with an immense arsenal of artillery and air power available on instant call. Because of this sophisticated technology a need existed for a huge logistical back-up to support the fighting troops in the field. As the operational success of the commanders in the field was equated to the number of enemy killed, together with the pacification of the populace, and not to capture and occupation of terrain, many of the logistical bases were soft targets for enemy attack and nowhere was a safe area. Regardless of this it was the soldier in the field of operations who did the killing and was killed.
The soldiers in my story are real people who participated in events that did happen. The only exception to this is Tran Van Binh an enemy soldier whom I have created. At the time of the action he was real enough, but he was killed and not identified by name.
Over the last twenty or so years numerous theories on the rights, wrongs and wherefores of Australia's participation in the Vietnam War have been put forward in publications written by politicians, military analysts, armchair generals and pseudo experts, many of whom have never been to Vietnam and most of whom have never seen a shot fired in anger.
Very few factual stories have been written about the private soldier, the individual who is at the end of the line. Without him doing his job, little would have been achieved. He was the one who put up with the monsoonal rain and the tropical heat, he was the one who slept on the wet ground night after night, he was the one who suffered physical exhaustion and gave that little bit more when he thought that he couldn't, he was the one who felt fear clutching at his guts when his mate next to him had his head blown away by sniper fire. He was the one who silently wept when his mates were carted off in body bags, he was the one who met his foe eyeball to eyeball feeling the adrenaline pumping as he cut his enemy to pieces with a burst of frantic small arms fire, he was the one who got wounded knowing that his mates would look after him but not knowing if he could live long enough to make it to the medical evacuation helicopter. He is the one who twenty or so years down the track says: 'Vietnam was a bloody good stoush, I wouldn't have missed it for quid's'.
The soldiers in this story were members of the First Battalion of the Royal Australian Regiment (1 RAR), the first Australian battalion to see action in the Vietnam War; all ranks were professional soldiers. The time was 1965-1966 when the unit was attached to the 173rd Airborne Brigade (separate) of the army of the USA as one of its integral battalions. The Airborne Brigade was based at Bien Hoa 32 kilometers east of Saigon in the Third Corps tactical zone.
I make no apology for any mistakes which relate to personage, time, place or event as twenty years have passed by, a measure of time that separated the two world wars of this century in which our nation took part. Time only stands still for the dead in any war-their youth is eternal. Those who survive become the veterans, old soldiers who would like to turn back the clock to the days when their chosen profession was the military and soldiering was their way of life.

THE ATTACK AT CHIN DUCH/DUC HANH

I had little trouble finding the province chiefs house. It was situated on the outskirts of the Vietnamese village, almost astride the road that linked the town of Vo Xu and the twin hamlets of Chin Duch/Duc Hanh.
I was to attack the Viet Cong occupied hamlets the following day with a company of Australian infantry soldiers. As I had time on my side, together with apparent security, I decided to do a detailed reconnaissance of the surrounding area in the morning by vehicle, and later that afternoon by helicopter.
The battalion operations officer had briefed me a couple of hours before on advice from our commanding officer. Briefings of this nature were concise and to the point. They contained a mission with timings, together with a list of artillery, air and other units that would help to support the attack as it developed.
As my Landrover ground to a halt in a choking cloud of dust beside the sign that read 'The Headquarters of the Province Military Chief': I opened my sweat stained notebook to firmly imbed in my mind the operational mission:

On 27 November 1965 Delta company, the First Battalion, the Royal Australian Regiment, will clear the enemy from the twin hamlets of Chin Duch/Duc Hanh with a view to securing the Vo Dat/Duc Hanh road by noon. Thus allowing safe passage for the army of the Republic of South Vietnam (ARVN) by vehicle through the villages to conduct a divisional operation in the eastern part of the province.

Wiping the dust from my mouth and eyes, I read through the additional information obtained from my briefing and the battalion intelligence section:

The provincial town of Vo Xu and the hamlets of Chin Duch/Duc Hanh are situated in the La Nea river valley, which is 130 kilometers north east of Saigon in war zone D of the 3rd Corps tactical zone of South Vietnam. This fertile river valley is the home for thousands of refugees from the north who were settled in the area by Ngo Dinh Diem after the Geneva accords partitioned Vietnam in 1954. With government assistance the refugees had quickly converted the virgin swampland into a highly productive rice growing area. By this year the government influence has diminished to such a degree that the countryside is mainly under the control of the Viet Cong. The enemy has established hard core political cadres in most of the hamlets and a large percentage of the rice harvest is about to fall into the hands of the enemy.

Intelligence from battalion, gathered from US army, ARVN military and local civilian sources, estimated that the strength of the Viet Cong cadre in the hamlet that I had been ordered to attack would number between fifty to ninety hard core enemy who were equipped with rifles and some automatic weapons. The remaining occupants of Chin Duch/Duc Hanh, totaling about fifteen hundred, were all pro-Viet Cong and anti-government.
As I climbed out of my vehicle, I felt that I might have one hell of a fight on my hands and, to be successful, I would need to do my homework very carefully.
My reason for visiting the province chiefs house was to find out first hand the current local situation which would be a starting point to assist me in the planning for the attack. The province chief was a captain in the South Vietnamese army. As I approached the gate to the compound I reached into my pocket taking out my shoulder badges of captain's rank and quickly fixed them in place. (I made it a rule not to wear my rank in the field, as enemy snipers made it their business to single out key leaders as targets.) Experience had proved that status and protocol were of the utmost importance in meeting officers of foreign armies, especially Asians.
The house was set back in its own grounds which were, in the main, a small parade ground with a flagpole and some outbuildings. The sentry post was unmanned and here and there between the buildings soldiers were asleep in hammocks.
I had made a miscalculation in my timing, it was still siesta, which meant that according to the unwritten rules adopted from the French, nothing would stir until this period was over.
The small reconnaissance group consisted of myself, the company sergeant major, Ron Pincott, and a radio man/driver, who also doubled as our bodyguard. Pincott, who spoke Vietnamese, had served in Vietnam in 1962 as an adviser who knew the ropes. He was a tough, loyal, no-nonsense professional soldier known to all and sundry as 'the Old Grey One'.
As my small party approached the first sleeping soldier, he woke up rubbing his eyes without bothering to climb out of his hammock. I addressed my sergeant major: 'Mr. Pincott would you please ask the soldier to summon the province chief so that we can get on with it'. In his best Vietnamese Pincott relayed my message which was answered with a grunt from the soldier who, oblivious to our presence, turned over to resume his siesta. A number of things happened in quick succession, the soldier was tipped out of his hammock into the dust of the courtyard, grabbed by the scruff of the neck by the Old Grey One who, with a sharp command in Vietnamese, directed the startled soldier towards the door of the province chiefs quarters. At the same time my batman / bodyguard Private Gartside, cocked his automatic rifle with the words: 'I got one up the spout skipper, just in case these jokers pull anything'. Regaining his composure Ron Pincott addressed me: 'Cheeky bastard, he told me to tell you to come back after siesta when you would have to make an appointment to see the province chief. I believe in the old principle boss "grab them by the balls and their hearts and minds are sure to follow". My sergeant major wouldn't rate a job in the diplomatic corps, but he got quick results.
Within minutes we were sitting in the coolness of the province chiefs briefing room being offered iced tea and cakes, with the exception of Gartside who stood sentry outside the door, with his rifle cocked and his weather eye on the province chiefs soldiers who were slowly resuming their duties of guarding the headquarters.
When dealing with Asians it is a very true saying 'you cannot hurry the East'. The actions of my company sergeant major in dealing with the uncooperative soldier had contradicted this. Apart from the Viet Cong my other enemy was time. I had a tight schedule to keep before the hours of daylight were gone.
The province chief, Captain Trang, devoted most of the early conversation to his wife and three small children who lived in Saigon. He had a wistful look in his eyes when he spoke of them and the war that was keeping his family from him. Trang spoke very good English which allowed me to maneuver the conversation around to the villages of Chin Duch/Duc Hanh.
At the mention of the village names the province chiefs eyes started to roll and his body stiffen. Knowing that most Asians are consummate actors I pressed on determined to hit the right nerve. In my military appreciation I had to know with reference to the enemy forces what? where? how many? My questions hit the jackpot. Trang stood up with a look of terror on his face, loudly exclaiming: 'One month ago my gallant soldiers under my personal command attacked the villages of Chin Duch/Duc Hanh. Viet Cong ... many, many-they kill lots of my brave soldiers-we leave there very quickly, if you have sense Dai Uy [Captain], you keep away. You will have many of your soldiers killed. Viet Cong have lots of booby traps, many bunkers, many machine guns'.
While the province chief was driving home his point, the Old Grey One was quietly sipping his tea, eating his cake and gazing out the window towards the busy road that was choked with traffic of all sorts that came from the direction of the villages in question. At an opportune gap in the conversation Pincott questioned the province chief: 'Captain Trang, does all the traffic go to and from Chin Duch/Duc Hanh?' His host quickly answered; 'Yes sergeant major, it is one of the main arterial roads in the La Nga river valley. It is very, very important. It goes through the Viet Gong held villages and on into the province to the east: The old Indo-China hand left it at that, offering Trang a cigarette and lighting up one himself. Realizing that I had got the answers to a few vital questions, I bade the province chief goodbye, stating very clearly that we would not dare go near Chin Duch/Duc Hanh as the enemy there appeared to be real tigers. As we departed my sergeant major gathered up the remaining cake for our faithful soldier, Gartside, who was still on sentry outside the door.
As we rattled back along the dusty road with Pincott at the wheel towards the airfield at Vo Xu and the waiting Huey helicopter, in a matter of fact way the Old Gray One the Old Grey One stated: 'You know sir, you can't trust those slope headed bastards as far as you can kick 'em. That was all bullshit about Trang and his attack on that fortified village. The Viet Cong would be paying him to stay away. Jesus Christ, the bloody road was like Paddy's Market on a Saturday. I reckon that the Cong in those villages are going to give us something for our quarter. But we are quids in front, they won't know that we are coming.
Through the swirling dust with a wink and a grin he addressed our ever alert bodyguard who held his rifle ready to fire at a moment's notice: 'What do you think of all this Garters?' Pondering it all with the wisdom of his nineteen years, Private Gartside, patting his firearm, said: 'I dunno sir, in this dink shithouse of a place, you can either root 'em or shoot 'em, I prefer to shoot 'em.'
Held by the safety harness, I had the pilot hover the helicopter while I focused my binoculars on the villages below. We were at 900 metres safe from small arms weapons, but vulnerable to heavy machine-gun fire which could knock us out of the sky like a crow off a dead stick. The American aircraft commander during our pre-flight briefing a few minutes before at Vo Xu had allowed me two five-minute slots over the target to complete my reconnaissance. During the first slot I intended to get an overview of the terrain and on the second slot, at a lower altitude, a close look at the village fortifications.
Initially I could see the twin villages, Chin Duch to the west on the road to Vo Xu and Duc Hanh to the east with the road running off into the distance. The main road connected the two hamlets. From the air, the terrain the villages occupied was relatively flat with a deep moat surrounding both hamlets. At strategic points on the perimeter, there appeared to be bunkers with barbed wire entanglements that were constructed between the enemy fighting positions and the deep trench of the moat which was empty as it was the middle of the dry season. The area surrounding the village was thick jungle with some patches of secondary scrub; the road entry and exit points were controlled by huge gates which were, reinforced with barbed wire. In the late fifties I had, as a sergeant, fought in the anti-terrorist campaign against the communist insurgents in Malaya. During my two years in that campaign I had come across many examples of fortified villages; this one was similar in design. I knew that the government of Ngo Dinh Diem had copied the idea, having set up many of these villages in the Delta area of South Vietnam. This was one that had been built by the government. However, it had gone over to the Viet Cong side as they gained control over the populace. Scanning the area on the southern side of the villages, I noticed, well away from the road, that the secondary growth had been allowed to coat most of the moat. Reading the scale off the binoculars, I noted the distance quietly saying to myself: 'You ripper, the frontage is wide enough to take my company and give it concealment as well'.
My thoughts were interrupted by the drawl of the pilot on the intercom: 'Sorry, time's up cap'n. I will get the bird down lower for slot two then we had better get our cotton pickin' asses out of here. Quiet enough at the moment but if those mother's have got a fifty cal machine-gun down there we could be crash then ash before I say kiss my money making ass'. The helicopter commander was a black American from the deep south, a skillful pilot who knew his business. On his advice we dropped to 300 metres to allow me a closer look to confirm my observations which turned out to be correct. Closer to the ground I noticed that the place was deserted-no people, no dogs, nothing. I glanced towards the arterial road in the direction of the province chiefs village, no traffic, the road was empty of civilian vehicles except for a long column of military hardware of the ARVN infantry division that extended its tail towards Vo Xu.
It would appear that Pincott was right. Trang was in the pay of the Viet Cong and had alerted them that the villages of Chin Duch/Duc Hanh might soon be attacked by the Australians.
Again my thoughts were broken by the pilot. 'Cap'n, mission completed Vo Xu minus seven looks to me like you got a war but dey ain't gonna play. Those sons of bitches have all gone home to mamma'. As the pilot pulled pitch to get his aircraft to a safe altitude, I pondered the problem: 'What the hell, fifteen hundred odd people can't vanish into thin air. Could the pilot be right maybe "dey ain't gonna play"'.
I awoke stiff and cold. It was the ever alert Gartside. 'Here boss get this into you' he whispered as he thrust a steaming canteen of tea under my nose. He continued: 'I've got your platoon commanders on the ball, they are getting their diggers to brew up before they come in for final orders. Jesus it's black as the inside of a cow's guts: Taking the heart starter I replied: 'Thanks Garters. Is Mr. Pincott awake?' He replied: 'Yes skipper he is-checking radio communication with battalion'. I glanced at the luminous hands of my watch, it was 0300 hours with H hour for the attack eighty minutes away.
I had held my orders group the night before when I had briefed my platoon commanders, together with all subordinates who would be responsible for command functions during the attack. They in turn would have worked out their own plans and briefed their soldiers. Apart from the final orders group I could do little except hope that it all fell into place. In a deliberate attack of this nature the key that opens the lock is the enemy. Where were they? How would they react? I had the utmost faith in my subordinates and my soldiers. I held the lives of 120 young men in my hands. One false judgment, one miscalculation could get some of them wounded, others killed. I had spoken to my soldiers late that afternoon, before my orders group, explaining the situation as I had seen it on my vehicle and aerial reconnaissance. I had stressed the fact that the enemy were in a fortified village with a well laid out defensive system of bunkers and barbed wire entanglements and that we would have a fight on our hands once we got inside their home territory.
I placed great emphasis on the cover of darkness to make our approach together with the element of surprise of hitting them at first light. I made it very clear that I expected aggressive action with no quarter given as the enemy had the advantage of being in a dug-in defensive position aided by barbed wire entanglements.
I made sure that a hot meal was brought forward the night before with a double rum ration available on the attack start line.
With a few minutes to go before my orders group came in for the final briefing, I pulled out my notebook, going over my plan for the last time. From my aerial reconnaissance I had noticed that the jungle had been allowed to grow across the moat. The growth appeared to be 3 to 4.5 metres high and about 140 metres wide. It was the only place on the village perimeter that did not have any visible fortifications except for a number of huts and houses. This was the weak link in the defensive chain and a possible route into the village. It was around this weak link that my attack plan was to pivot.
In the faint light of a pencil torch I read my notes, sipping the last of the hot tea that was starting to warm my blood and stiff limbs:
Plan Attack Chin Duch/Duc Hanh

Move as a company group before first light from the battalion harbour position to a location 300 metres short of the edge of Chin Duch/Duc Hanh.
From this company assembly area move A platoon forward to secure the forming up place and line of departure (here the jungle covered the edge of the hamlet's moat). Elements of the pioneers were to move with this platoon to clear the area of booby traps.
The remainder of the company was then to move forward to the secured forming up place.
At H hour (first light) A platoon was to assault, the other two platoons to remain in reserve.
The houses past the moat were to be secured by the assaulting platoon.
The reserve platoons were to leap frog through the area secured by the assaulting platoon then attack and secure prospective objectives on the right and left flanks.
The company commander with his headquarters group which included the artillery forward observation officer and his party were to command the company from behind the forward platoon during the assault.
Four artillery defensive fire targets were to be plotted and silently registered by the New Zealand artillery battery that was in direct support. These targets were a precaution should stiff resistance be encountered. On the move from the assembly area to the forming up place, as a precaution I had my leading platoon commander, Jimmy Bourke, who would lead the assault, on a set compass bearing with a check being done by Bill Giles and Steve Lind who would be the reserve platoon commanders on the right and left flanks in the attack. Private Gartside was correct, it was as 'black as the inside of a cow's guts: The direction was maintained by compass bearing with the distance covered being measured by pacing.

In my preparation I had carefully calculated the distance of the move to the attack position on the edge of the moat, from the map converting it to human paces. I had cut my milk teeth on exercises of this nature during the two years that I had led patrols in the jungles of Malaya during the emergency. In those days, when mistakes were made I only had twelve men to consider if direction had to be altered. On this particular morning in Vietnam it was a different story. There were 120 men directly involved, with the remainder of my battalion in the grandstand and an ARVN division in the wings. I had to hit the moat in the exact spot where the jungle covered it. Before I had moved out with the main body of my company, I had sent the section from the pioneer platoon ahead with guides, to clear any booby traps that might be set up along the fence that was part of the village perimeter. The booby traps were usually manufactured from stolen US army hand grenades which had been fused to detonate instantly. The grenades were set up in the jungle at waist height with the trigger a bent stick of the natural undergrowth and, upon being disturbed, would explode, spraying the area with shrapnel. We had come into contact with these booby traps on earlier operations where they had caused some casualties. My soldiers referred to them as 'real bastards: silent killers that were waiting there for the unwary. If one of these grenade booby traps exploded on the edge of the village, two things would happen. I would have soldiers wounded and killed together with the Viet Cong village being alerted by the sound of the detonation.
During my aerial reconnaissance I had noted that two or three well-worn tracks led from the houses toward the moat and the jungle cover that was now my destination. I considered that this might be an exit used by the villagers to enter the jungle to set snares for the trapping of small animals and birds that used to feed from the forest floor. Not wanting to endanger their own people, it was a fair bet that this area would be free of booby traps. As part of my plan, the demolition team from the battalion pioneer platoon would search the forward edge of my attack position before the assault was to begin. If a booby trap was exploded at that stage I intended to 'go for the doctor' and sweep straight into the attack on the premise that surprise would be momentarily lost, but my soldiers would take the initiative before the village defenders could man their weapons and occupy their fire positions.
I halted my company at fifteen minute intervals to get a report from my platoon commanders on distance covered, together with a check on the inner flanks to ensure that contact was being maintained. As we neared the moat which was the attack position, I reduced this to ten minute checks, then five minute checks. In due course Jim Bourke came up with the report that the moat was in front of him and that there were a number of well-worn tracks crossing this obstacle and leading into the village. I requested Jim to shake his soldiers out and to wait until the first glimmer of dawn to allow the demolition team to check the start line for booby traps.
It was not necessary to say anything else. I had a company of disciplined professional soldiers who knew the ropes. By careful reconnaissance and planning I had found the soft underbelly of the enemy target. In a few minutes, as H hour approached, I would drive in the well-honed edge of my infantry force 'burying the bayonet to its hilt'.
As the time to attack neared, I held up my hand with five fingers extended dropping each finger as a minute ticked by. My platoon commanders were all on radio-listening watch. As the countdown reached H hour, I tapped my radio operator on the shoulder, he whispered 'on air H hour time now'.
Comrade Tran Van Binh was awakened by the crowing of one of the village household roosters. He had spent a restless night as the leader of the small group of Viet Cong soldiers who were responsible for protecting the southern sector of the hamlets of Chin Duch/Duc Hanh. As was his early morning custom he awakened at sunrise, stretched and stepped outside the building to urinate before he returned his assault rifle to its hiding place in the house. He felt the pressure on his bladder ease as he watched the vapor rise from his warm body fluid as it streamed into the cold morning air. He couldn't believe his eyes. Not 15 metres away were a number of enemy soldiers moving towards him. Yelling out a cry of anguish, he ran a few steps back to the house. Picking up his automatic rifle he fired hastily towards the soldiers who were almost on top of him. As the young Viet Cong soldier moved back to gain cover, he was cut in two by a burst of fire, his body convulsed as his mangled intestines mixed with his urine that was starting to seep into the red earth.
As Comrade Tran was brought down, Corporal Ron Smith yelled out to his section machine-gunner to bring fire to bear on the building where Tran's squad were starting to tumble out of their hammocks and were reaching for their weapons. As the M60 machine-gun opened up with its deadly fire, Smith's section, firing from the hip, swept towards the startled enemy who were butchered where they stood. The savage fire fight had happened within the space of a few minutes.
Lieutenant Jim Bourke had earlier instructed his section commanders that the first one to draw hostile fire would assault then consolidate, acting as a firm base of fire to support the remainder of the platoon who would fight further into the objective. So far the assault had worked according to plan. As Corporal Ron Smith reported back to his platoon commander that he had been successful in his assault, a Viet Gong machine-gun started to sweep the area causing the platoon to go to ground. Moving forward, Bourke gave Smith the order to bring fire to bear on the enemy machine-gun position while he prepared the remainder of his platoon to assault. He told his platoon sergeant, 'Shagger' Jim Carnes, to move with the right flank of the attacking force while he controlled the centre and left flanks and radio communication back to company headquarters who were moving behind his platoon.
As the right flank section moved towards the Viet Cong machine-gun position, the section commander called for fire from his gunner to keep the heads of the enemy down while he assaulted with his riflemen. The gunner, under the direction of his corporal, started firing from the waist towards the enemy position as the section commander started to sweep his men forward. As the accurate fire found its target, the Viet Cong machine-gun changed its rate to spasmodic bursts which cut the dust up in front of the advancing Australians. Above the din of the battle, the section corporal in a steady voice controlled his soldiers as they neared the building which housed the enemy, ending with the command 'Gun group rapid fire'. This was the signal to his machine-gunner to pour in the fire while he swept into the building from the flank with his riflemen. At this critical moment the section's M60 machine-gun stopped with the frantic report from the gunner that a cartridge case had separated which meant that the gun was temporarily out of action. Upon the machine-gun stopping, as if by rehearsal, the Viet Gong machine-gun resumed its earlier pattern of fire, this time the enemy gunner lifted his sights to cut down the Australians who, with bayonets fixed, were advancing steadily towards him.
Sergeant Jim Carnes, a veteran of the Korean war, sensed that the assault without the support of the now silent machine-gun was about to become a slaughter. As he moved forward with the right section he found himself almost in front of the enemy machine-gun. Realizing that for a few split seconds the machine-gun fire would be interrupted while the Viet Gong gunner changed magazines, he went to ground. As the angry rounds tore over his head he waited for a break in the fire pattern. At the opportune moment with a grunt he tensed his body and moved forward with his automatic rifle at the ready. He charged straight at the enemy machine-gun as the gunner slammed on a new magazine. Carne's first shot blew a hole through the gunner's chest, his second shot removing the scalp and spreading the Viet Cong's brains over the other startled soldiers who died where they crouched as Bourke's platoon sergeant hosed them down, not stopping until the enemy were dead and the position was neutralized. On the left flank Jim Bourke and the remainder of his platoon were meeting scattered enemy resistance as they systematically cleared each house with grenades and automatic weapons fire, forcing the Viet Cong defenders to withdraw towards the western side of the hamlet.
I was moving just behind Bourke's platoon with my company headquarters group monitoring the action as my company lodged itself into the objective. The impetus of the attack had put the enemy on the run. Not wanting to overstretch my company with the chance of leaving my flank vulnerable and allowing the enemy to counterattack by getting between my leading platoon and my headquarters group, I ordered Jim Bourke to regroup his soldiers while I moved Steve Lind's and Bill Giles' platoons, who were in reserve, forward to protect my flanks.
As my assaulting platoon was consolidating its position, I ordered Lieutenant Jim Bourke to move forward to a small elevated piece of ground just forward of his position, to reconnoiter ahead to give me further information of the movement of the enemy who had been swept before him and his soldiers.
Jim Bourke was known to his classmates at the officer candidate school as 'Bindy'. He had been born on a cattle station in far western Queensland, and from a very early age had learned the ways of the bushmen, cattle men and Aborigines who lived and worked on the property. Wanting to see the world beyond the outback he had applied for military officer training and had graduated as a second lieutenant before joining 1 RAR just before it was warned for active service in Vietnam. Bourke was a hard taskmaster who led his men by example, not expecting them to tackle anything that he himself could not achieve.
Using the natural cover to his advantage, the young platoon commander peering towards the middle distance sighted about fifteen enemy soldiers who were grouped running down the wide track which connected the twin hamlets. As Bourke relayed the information to me, I scanned my map pinpointing the enemy movement and requesting the New Zealand artillery forward-observation officer, who was attached to my headquarters, to fire the nearest defensive fire target. I relayed to Jim Bourke that the guns were firing and requested that we adjust the fall of shot to bring it to bear on the fleeing enemy group. I listened out on the radio as the fire was moved to trap the Viet Cong soldiers. After a few adjustments, I monitored the Queensland drawl of my platoon commander as he ordered the battery to 'fire for effect'. This meant that all the guns of the artillery battery in direct support would fire at once, saturating the area with shells. A quick call to my platoons to take cover preceded the barrage then the ground around us trembled as the explosives took their toll. Again the steady voice of Jim Bourke came across the airwaves 'target neutralized, cease fire'.
After the effective artillery barrage, I pulled Jim Bourke and his soldiers into reserve, moving the platoons of Steve Lind and Bill Giles forward to clean out the enemy pockets from the remainder of the village. As my company moved forward clearing the houses with grenades and small arms fire, the populace of Chin Duch/Duc Hanh started to emerge behind us from their deep underground shelters which had afforded them complete protection from our small arms fire and grenades, and the artillery bombardment. They waved the tiny red and saffron flags of the Republic of South Vietnam, still bewildered and frightened by the battle that had raged about them. Private Gartside, who was always a couple of paces from me, seeing all this remarked to nobody in particular: 'Look at these poor bastards coming out of their holes-they don't have any idea of who's up who and who's not paying. They would be bloody idiots if they didn't have two bob each way in the Chin Duch/Duc Hanh stakes'. Giving me a bit of a grin as he stumbled over a tree root which raised a cloud of dust he said: 'Yuh know boss, we have just kicked the arse out of the bookie in this place. We have backed the winner all the way to the post: In acknowledgment I gave Garters a bit of a nod and a smile, thinking to myself: 'It still remains to be seen whether the bookmaker will pay the odds or not'.
During this period of the action, the company sergeant major, Ron Pincott, had been listening out on the platoon radio nets, monitoring them for reports of the wounded or dead. To date we appeared to have gotten through the attack without any casualties. However, there had been a number of close calls especially in the break-in phase.
I stopped my leading elements as they reported reaching the northernmost point of the village with the constraint they could not move any further as the gate astride the road to Vo Xu was closed and secured with barbed wire. At this time I learned a startling fact from Corporal Lex McAulay, a highly skilled Vietnamese linguist attached to Delta company from the battalion intelligence section, who was busy extracting some information about the Viet Cong from the natives of the village. The day before these people had been ordered by the Viet Cong to move for safety into deep bunkers while the liberation forces prepared to do battle with the 'Americans' that were threatening their village.
As I was being briefed by Lex McAulay on the information given to him by the villagers, Bill Giles, who was in command of the leading platoon near the Vo Xu road, reported that about 100 metres from the village gates he had located a newly dug, skillfully camouflaged, horse shoe shaped ambush capable of holding about eighty to 100 Viet Cong soldiers. I informed our interpreter who in turn questioned the village people, who stated that the Viet Cong intended to catch the attacking troops in ambush and annihilate them as they drove through the village gates and into the ambush in motor vehicles.
I reported to battalion, indicating that my attack was completed and that the road through the hamlets was clear of the enemy, also that I wished to have my force relieved by Alpha company who were in reserve, having followed my attack route as my company had cleared the enemy from the village.
There was no fanfare except a brief personal call from my battalion commanding officer who congratulated me together with my company on a job well done. It was no big thing-as professionals we had completed a task that we were trained for. My greatest reward was the fact I and my officers and junior ranks had fought our soldiers through the objective with no casualties. I had had a lot of things going for me, especially the coolness of my subordinate commanders under fire together with the elements of a detailed reconnaissance and surprise under the cover of darkness.
As I handed over the hard-won ground of the villages to Chin Duch/Duc Hanh to Alpha company, I moved my weary soldiers out through the village gates to an open field to effect resupply of ammunition and rations and to give them a chance to brew up and eat the fresh meal that I had ordered to be brought forward from the battalion administrative echelon.
It was noon by the time I had fed my company and rested them. I made it a practice after any action to debrief firstly my platoon commanders then talk to my soldiers if possible in a group. On this occasion I was brief and to the point thanking them all for doing a fine job, especially in the difficult night move to the edge of the village, together with the fight they had shown upon the initial contact with the enemy.
As we stood in the swirling dust caused by the arrival of a number of brightly painted Iroquois helicopters, I dismissed my company with instructions to the platoon commanders to rest their men before I received my next orders from battalion.
The helicopters carried a number of stars which indicated that top army brass, probably from Saigon, had arrived for some reason that was beyond me. Looking through the collapsed forms of my tired soldiers towards the gates of the village, I witnessed a ceremony of some sort in progress. There was an immaculately attired row of ARVN officers standing stiffly in line while a high ranking officer pinned medals on their chests. When the short ceremony was completed a long, wide, freshly painted banner outlined with the colors of the Vietnamese flag was hoisted above the gates.
As I watched the spectacle, Lex McAuley walked over to me saying :'You wouldn't believe those ARVN bastards have just been decorated by some general from Saigon for attacking the village of Chin Duch/Duc Hanh and after a fierce fight killing many of the enemy and freeing it from the Viet Cong'. Meeting McAulay's eyes, I said quietly: 'And what does that banner say Mac?' Almost unable to speak from anger, the Vietnamese interpreter said: 'This Viet Cong village was freed from communist slavery by the gallant freedom fighters of the ARVN 10th division'. As I spat into the dust with disgust, I looked towards the teenage face of my batman/ bodyguard/military adviser, Private Gartside. He was stretched out on the paddy bund using his pack as a pillow. I think for once he was asleep, a fact that I would not dare to confirm. His words of the day before came back to me: 'You can either root 'em or shoot 'em'. As I looked towards the village gates and the bright banner I said to myself: 'Garters, you are so bloody right'.
EPILOGUE
The Soldiers
Ron Pincott. Stayed on as Company Sergeant Major of Delta Company IRAR when it returned to Australia. He returned to Vietnam with the battalion on its second tour of duty and was made a Member of the British Empire by Queen Elizabeth II for his service.
He retired from the Australian Regular Army in 1978 after thirty odd years of exemplary service. Ron served in World War II, Korea, Malaya and three times in Vietnam.
Two years after his retirement he was organizing a charity function for crippled children at his local RSL club when he went to the bar, purchased a round of drinks, pocketed his change and dropped dead from a sudden heart attack. I was a pall bearer at his funeral where he was buried with full military honours. It was a sad day; however, Ron Pincott, who had faced many dangers as an infantry man in war, had always said 'Whenever I get the chop all I ask is for the bastard to be fast and clean' and it was. Private Gartside. After Vietnam he completed his six years engagement. Garters was last heard of 'drovin" or whatever on a cattle station in North Queensland.
Captain Trang. Apart from the meeting before the attack on the twin hamlets he wasn't heard of again.
A few weeks after the freeing of the villages of Chin Duch/Duc Hanh by the gallant freedom fighters of the ARVN 10th Division the village returned to its previous state of 'communist slavery'.
Comrade Tran Van Binh. He, together with his dead comrades, was buried in a mass grave by the Australians after the action. The village people assisted in the digging of the burial site.
Corporal Ron Smith. Some months after the successful attack on Chin Duch/Duc Hanh, Delta Company was involved in an intense fire fight with the Viet Cong in the Hobo Woods of the infamous Iron Triangle. During this action Smith's forward scout was shot through the chest by a concealed enemy sniper. In a futile attempt to assist his mate Ron Smith was shot twice through the head by other enemy who were nearby.
As the action developed Smith was left for dead, as other wounded were treated. During the clearance of the dead from the battlefield Corporal Smith was checked by the American 'Dust off Crew' (nickname for the Medical Evacuation helicopter) and found to be still alive. He was flown immediately to a military hospital in Saigon where he was operated on. Corporal Ron Smith survived the war, but was medically discharged from the army because of his wounds.
Lieutenant Jim Bourke. During the action in which Ron Smith was wounded Jim Bourke, who was the platoon commander, seeing that his corporal was wounded ran forward through intense enemy machine-gun fire to get the wounded forward scout. Just after the wounding of Smith, two of the battalion stretcher bearers who were attached to Delta Company ran forward to help the scout; both of these gallant young men were killed, one when he got near the scout, the other as he was bending down to render first aid to the wounded soldier.
Pushing aside the dead stretcher bearer Jim Bourke got hold of the wounded scout and commenced to drag him into cover. As he was doing this a sniper shot Jim Bourke through the jaw. The force of the shot in the face threw the young platoon commander sideways, however, he continued to pull his wounded soldier to safety. Before he fainted from shock and loss of blood as he spat out his shattered teeth and pieces of jawbone, the bush larrikin from North Queensland mumbled 'who said that those noggie bastards were lousy shots!' Lieutenant Jim Bourke was evacuated to Australia where, after a lengthy period of hospitalization, his face and jaw were rebuilt and he returned to duty. Bourke went back to Vietnam in 1968 as a member of the Australian Army Training Team. As a captain he commanded a company of Montagnard Soldiers who were an integral part of the US Special forces (Green Berets) unit-the mobile Strike Force-who conducted operations against units of the North Vietnamese Army that infiltrated into South Vietnam from the area of the Ho Chi Minh trail in Laos and Cambodia. Lt. Colonel Jim Bourke retired from the Australian Regular Army in 1986 after a career of distinction highlighted by his leadership and devotion to duty in the Vietnam War, where he was twice recommended for the award of the Military Cross for bravery under fire.
Sergeant Jim Carnes. Shagger Carnes was awarded the Military Medal for his bravery under fire in knocking out the enemy machine-gun emplacement during the break-in phase in the Battle for Chin Duch/Duc Hanh. He retired from the army some years ago.
Lieutenants Bill Giles and Steve Lind. These fine officers continued with their military careers after Vietnam. Both retired recently, Bill as a lieutenant colonel and Steve as a major.
Corporal Lex McAulay. Lex, a highly skilled Vietnamese linguist, stayed on in the army. As a warrant officer he recently retired and pursued a second career as a military historian. He has had two very successful books on the Vietnam War published: 'Where the Buffalo Fight' and 'The Battle at Long Tan'.

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