 FSB Bridget | As per the semi-open bush we were moving through, the patrol was well separated. I chanced a look around and I thought the Digger behind me was half asleep as he was right up my bum and hardly watching his arcs. I stopped and turned around he had no option but to do the same. I was very pissed-off, we were not far out of Bridget, why relax now?. |
"I don't care if you come up with me, (on a mine) but I'm not going up with you, so back off". He just looked at me and said nothing. I started moving again making no effort to close the extra gap that had opened between John and myself, as the type of country allowed the distance. Not long after, there was a Huge Bang. I could see a large cloud of sand and dust fly into the air. I was thinking "RPG, someone's fired a RPG at us, so there will be automatic fire". I tensed waiting for the sound of incoming rounds of an AK47.
I was down on my knees, facing to the left of our movement. My head was hanging down. It was strangely silent, no sounds. My rifle had gone, my watch missing, my hands on the ground, blood was dripping onto the back on my hand. The silence was finally broken."Mines Mines" .Someone yelled, "Mine Drill, do your Mine Drill. John is injured and I need Blakey up here to have a look at him".
We had practiced this drill ad nauseam back in Australia, first on the footy oval, all spread out, with someone selected as a casualty. Then it would be sprung on us unexpectedly in the bush, down on your knees, prodding, proddng, marking safe lanes. It was drummed into us that to run was fatal. Other units had done so and triggered more mines, as the Cong rarely planted just one. This area of our operations was a bad area for them. Of all the training we did I hated the mine drill the most. This was because I knew that if we had to do it for real, we would have someone down, maybe killed or badly injured.
I could see Sgt King standing up, beyond where John was lying face down, calmly directing others towards John, but not moving himself. Sgt King was awarded a Mention In Dispatches (MID) after our tour, I always considered it was for his calm and control this day.
John then started to yell, there was no doubt that he was badly injured. I got out my bayonet and started to prod, in 45% to the ground about 3" apart. I seemed to be doing everything in slow motion, for some reason, and my ears were 'ringing'. A Digger went past me prodding like mad, I had a fear of another mine going up. It was the bloke I had had a go at. "What are you doing?" I asked, "tying to get to John". "Well that's my job", I had the Platoon Medical kit and I knew it was important that I get to John as soon as I could, but ensure that the mine drill was done correctly, or else, I was shit scared.
"OK then", he went back behind me to get my M16, which was still lying on the track. "Come on Blakely get up here now". Sgt King trying to get me to get a move on.
I felt that was a little unfair, as I was going as fast as I was able. At the same time I knew he was keeping control of the situation and letting people know that our priority was getting help to John. He was standing there having a smoke, looking relaxed.
The roar of a diesel engine could be heard and there was no doubt that who ever was driving the Track was gunning it to the max. An APC soon came into view, with other A Company Diggers sitting on top.
The Track slewed to a stop about 20/30 yards off to the side of our track. A Ginger Beer jumped off the track with a mine detector, "right what do you want Sgt?" Sgt King pointed to John and then to me. "I want him cleared first, then him, then the rest of that way". Pointing behind me to where the others were still prodding. The Engineer swept in front of himself towards John, I said "All this side of him, as I will need to roll him over to check him out". The Engineer did that and then move to me and behind me. I was able to stand up and move the rest of the way to John's side. I had a quick look at his back, there was no obvious bleeding or tears in his shirt. I was joined by someone and I said "Give me a hand to roll him". This was done.
John was only groaning now and seemed to be half conscious. I was confused to the amount of bleeding, I was expecting to see more damage to his clothes, from the wire fragments that the mines contain. Pulling the bottom of his pants away from his leg I could see a deep wound, John groaned, I quickly let go. Opening a shell dressing I placed it over the area and tied it firmly. I was worried that he might have broken legs and wanted to reduce the movement as much as possible. I cleared his SLR and left the magazine off. I placed the butt of the weapon between his legs, with the muzzle near his boots, then tied a figure of 8 bandage around his boots to lock them together.
Other bandages also went around his legs to keep him as still as possible. I could hear the 'Woca, Woca' of a DUSTOFF Chopper heading our way. Someone produced a stretcher and we carefully moved John on to this. As the Landing Zone (LZ) was a little way off we picked him up to move closer, my right shoulder hurt, so I grabbed the stretcher with my left hand. Sgt King said "what's wrong with you?" I said "I don't know but it hurts".
After we placed the stretcher on the ground he grabbed me and ripped open my shirt to look at my shoulder, then said, "get on the Chopper". As my M16, is an automatic weapon I said to the Digger, who had been behind me, give me your SLR, the section needed the automatic weapon. As he cleared the weapon for safety, for the Chopper, I took off all my ammo for the M16 and gave it to him, he also gave me my watch which having a rubber wrist band was cut right through, probably by flying shrapnel.
The Chopper landed and John was put aboard, I got on. It had its own medic, so I sat near the door to keep out of the way. The noise of the blades and the concussion of the wind was making my ears hurt, so I placed my hands over them to keep out both.
The door gunner was looking at me with horror on his face, I could offer him no comfort. The trip seemed to take a while but I guess it was no more than 15 minutes. We landed at the Vampire pad of 1 Aust Field Hospital in Vung Tau. The Regimental Sergeant Major (RSM) was there to meet the chopper, I had met him some months earlier. I tapped him on the shoulder, as I walked past, as his focus was on John, he seemed surprised to see me. I moved in through the doors and saw the welcome sign for a toilet. It was early morning and I needed to go to the Loo.
 "Long Hai Hills" | A little later as I went through the doors of the Triage I heard a Sister say, "I thought that there were two Soldiers on the that Chopper?" I answered, "there was, Me". They literally picked me up and dropped gently on the gurney. Cutting my gear off and checking me out. "Where are you hit?" I pointed to the shoulder and the doctor removed some shrapnel and had a look at my nose, the shrapnel was too far in and he told me it would work its way out in time, which it did. I was lying flat on the gurney and a pretty Sister was stroking my forehead. The contrast with the quiet in Triage and calm manner of the staff, with 30 minutes or so ago, was amazing. |
I tried to see how John was by looking over my shoulder but they would not let me. "He's OK, doing fine". I knew that he had every chance now that he was in the Hospital. After a while I was given an injection 'to clam me down', and I was moved to one of the wards.I was filthy dirty I asked for a shower. With a medic as a helper, because the injection was working I was able to have a hot bath instead and get back to bed. The first thing I wanted was a Red Cross telegram form, so I could tell my Wife, Helen I was OK, as I knew she would get some sort of notification from the Army and I did not want her worrying if they got the details mixed up.
I was not to know that the telegraph form would take two weeks to get to Wollongong and be beaten by a letter I wrote a few days later. When I was allowed out of bed the next day I asked to see John and I could see that he was in bad way, he was still very ill and did not know I was there. He had not lost his legs though, something I was very grateful for. I have never seen him again to this day even though I have looked for him from time to time.
I had some visitors, Sgt King brought some of the boys to see me and check on John. I was grateful to see them and felt a little silly in pj's and wanted to get back to the Platoon as I felt OK. I started to apologise to Sgt King for the slowness at doing the mine drill, but it was strange, I felt that he was embarrassed at yelling at me. Maybe cause I was hurt to? He told me not to worry, I had done OK and to have a rest and get back on my feet. That was the only praise I ever got from him the whole Tour.
While I was at the hospital the atmosphere was quiet and the war seemed a long way away. I was uncomfortable with the clean sheets and the lack of things to do. The hospital even had its own movies and provided the only humor of those days. Due to the conditions of the place even small scratches went infected and sores were commonplace on Diggers in the field.
It seems that the conditions also made the need for circumcisions a common occurrence among Soldiers of the Task Force, who were operated on at the at the hospital. Due to the need not to split stiches, patients were given a spray of some sort to prevent an erection. At the movie one night, a mildy erotic one, from the back of the darkened room you could hear the 'sissss' of the spray cans. I remember being taken aback at the unlikeliness of the situation after the death and injuries I had seen during the tour. I pested a Doctor to get out of the hospital, as I don't know why I was still there, he seemed surprised but signed my release and I phoned the unit. With a lift from a 7RAR land rover, I was taken back to 3 Platoon, which was now at our position at Nui Dat.
People were pleased to see me and made a fuss, I didn't know what to say. At lunch the OC, 'Father' Major Thomson was helping to serve the meal, and praised my efforts at the mine incident, I could only say, 'I did what I was trained to do', and moved on, I did not want any special attention.
We soon moved out again, but as it was getting close to Christmas I guess the Government did not want any deaths. We Chopped in to a huge LZ near the May Tau Mountains. As we were going in, a flight of Gun Ships flew over our slick, firing rockets and mini guns in to the jungle next to the LZ. The door gunner opened up with his M60 raking the tree line as the Chopper got closer to the ground. What on earth was happening are they inserting us, 'in-contact?'.
I wanted to get off and get into cover as the Chopper was a big target. As soon as we got the 'thumbs up' I jumped, nothing happened my pack had caught on something on the M60. I had to get off before the Chopper moved into the air.
I slapped the gunners leg, as I could not reach behind me with all my gear, and pointed to the pack. He was a big Negro, he picked up my pack with one hand and threw me away from the Chopper, I just went straight to ground and rolled on my side so I could see him and gave him a high 'thumbs up', which he returned with a wave of the hand, as the Chopper left the ground.
The forward scouts were quickly on their feet moving to the tree-line. We were in section groups so it was relatively easy to get into formation, if we were going to be hit now I wanted to know how the Platoon was formed up. Everyone moved quickly into the tree-line to get undercover, the familiar quietness and smell of the jungle surrounded you. Out of direct sunlight you felt less of a walking target.
It was an anticlimax. The jungle allowed a bit of 'relaxing' from the type of work we were involved in around NDP Bridget, which was like 'shift-work', one of the things I had left my job for, to join the Army, what a joke! The interdiction work around Bridget ambushing tracks aound the Long Hais and the fishing Village, Long Phoc Hai. Night, was difficult, trying to keep one jump ahead of the local Viet Cong ment a lot of 'night work'. Sleep during the day, if you could, it was stinking hot, and you had to sleep undercover in our bunkers in case of mortar attack. Eat when you felt like it, full briefing in the afternoon, move out before dark, there was no brewing or hot meals during these operations, ambush some track going into the Village night after night after night.
It was very tiring and due to rotations, bloke going on R&R whatever, patrols being 7/8 or 9 Diggers it was crazy. I remember one morning someone asked 'who had moved through the ambush position and kicked or fell over the radio?' No one ever owned up, so who was it? Had someone moved through our position while we were all sleeping? I still wonder about that to this day!
With all the work falling on few and fewer Diggers, the blokes were loosing their good nature with the strain, yet we never talked about it to each other just carried on day after day, doing our best.
Now in the jungle I was calming down a bit, I was a little smug that I had got over the mine incident so easy, although I got the feeling that people were looking after me, without making it obvious. When the subject came up l was told about 'my good job', but I was still feeling guilty that I did not get my act in to gear as quick as I would have liked.
It was clear that the rocket display from the Bushranger Gunships was not because they had seen Viet Cong, but to keep the VC away from the Company. As we were in a fixed position the Cong would have to walk into us and we had our usually tight triangle harbour setup. We also stayed there, instead of moving as usual, so it was strangely 'relaxing', something I would never have expected to say about being in the Vietnam jungle. One day I moved around the position as far as Company Head Quarters, (CHQ) and bumped in to the OC, 'Father' and we had a chat about things. He was a Pom and had served with the Gurkars, still regarded with awe by the present day Digger.
He had decided to go fishing to suppliment his rations and I watched in amazement when he detonated two grenades in this large pond and saw the stunned fish float to the surface.
The jungle trip only lasted a week or so, someone knocked over a big unit of Viet Cong on the move and killed 21 of them, in a classic combined ambush of Infantry and APC's. We were given a 'Warning Order', about moving back to NDP Bridget, and the place was a flurry of packing Diggers as some had gear every-were, I guess as it was a truce we did not expect any movement by the VC. We were to to replace the Company now at Bridget so they could go and support the action after the ambush. So that was OK by us, typical of the VC not to respect a truce and get their arses kicked for it, stiff shit.
Soon back at Bridget we sorted our individual bunkers out, the other company had left it in a mess. They had taken all our spare food and equipment, there was a bit of moaning about this till the place was fixed up the way people liked it.
Without much ado after making our selves at home, 3 Platoon was tasked to set up an ambush in the general area of the mine explosion, I was a bit nervous but that was my job and I tried to put it out of my mind. We moved out of Bridget in the dark. As we moved out of the gate and around to the North I realised that we were moving on soft sand, the same as that morning.
My nerves seemed to go into overdrive. As we got further and further away from the safety of Bridget I had a overwhelming urge to scream and run back to Bridget. I tried to talk to myself to, keep putting my feet forward, left, right, left, right. Concentrate on checking the area, check the SLR safety catch. It was not working, I was very close to complete panic.
All I could think of was stepping on a mine, I could feel my whole body wanting to run, trying to turn me around, to run back the way we had come. The feeling was almost overwhelming.
Why didn't I do that, just run back inside the wire? I don't know. I know it was harder to keep going than to run away. Somehow I got to the Ambush Site, I know I was nearly out of control. All my smug feelings about being in control went up in smoke, I was absolutely terrified. At least in the ambush we were not moving around and I got hold of myself a bit. I slept little that night if at all, I just wanted the sun to come up, as I knew we would not move until it was fully light.
The next morning we moved back to Bridget and as the Platoon got closer and then moved inside the gate, I could relax for awhile. Being December it was only a few months till the Battalion would be going home. I needed to survive somehow, how?
There was no-one I felt, I could talk to about how panicky I was feeling, so I needed to depend on myself, I was a good Soldier by now, always switched on, I just had to do it better. I made the decision; "I would close myself up, shut my self off from everyone and every thing, take no chances, to survive till I could get on that ship and on my way home".
After that I only once gave the new Boss (Platoon Commander) an insight as to how I was feeling.
We were due to do some work in the Long Hais, which was full of mines, I asked him one day when we were alone, that 'could I be left off the list for the operation?' I never explained what I was feeling. He had only been posted to us because of the death of Lt Davies and he did not know 3 Platoon well.
This would be tough as I was crossed trained as a medic, platoon signaller and as an M60 machine gunner, and now one of the most experienced riflemen in 3 Platoon, I never missed any sort of operation or ambush, but I had to ask, I could not trust myself if we went to the Long Hais.
When the list came out I was not on it. I could feel people looking at me, but no-one said anything. I felt down and lousy about quitting, but I felt if I went, I might let people down, maybe get someone killed. Later the operation was cancelled.
Some weeks after the mine incident I was sent out of Bridget, by myself to talk to some Engineers using a dozer to blow up mines in the area of out patrol that morning. While I was outside the wire, some 20 minutes, they set off about 7 other mines in the area. Every bang made me jump, we had been walkng around here for months. I gave the Digger in charge the information and didi back behind the wire.
During this time we started working with forces from the local area, trying to teach them some of the skills we had. Their discipline was terrible and their idea of an ambush was to get as much sleep as they could, although individually they seemed friendly enough. This might seem laughable, but even to me they seemed to be only kids. For the first time the realisation that we might not win this war seemed very real.
There was no doubt that the VC & NVA could not deal with the Australian Soldier in Phuoc Tuy. That we had as a force done all that was expected of us and more, even the French had never been able to control the movement of the Cong. We had control of the province at night as well as the day. How long would the Government pay for us to defend in a foreign country, particularly with all the dickheads in Australia, who knew little of what was going on but listen to the crap pedaled by the commos?
They should have come and talked to the people who's country it was, who did not want the North or the Cong to win either. People who had lost sons, brothers and fathers fighting to stop the North. I would have liked to see some of those dick-heads here, trying to help the Viet Cong they would have got an AK 7.62 short; round through their brains for their trouble.
What was the answer? I concidered staying incountry to fight some more, but I knew that the odds of getting hurt again would increase the longer I stayed. I did not look forward to telling my wife that I wanted to stay longer, then there was the case of having to move to another unit. What if they did not have the skills of 3 Platoon, as a Private it would be difficult to tell anyone to get their act together?
Go home, was the decision, I could always come back if the war went on. I left Vietnam some months later aboard the Aircraft Carrier HMAS Sydney. I landed in the city of Sydney some weeks later, not knowing another war was starting, which continues to this day:
Tony (Oink) Blake.
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END OF PART 2
2792530: 7RAR: Vietnam 70-71 A.Blake: 75 Joadja Street; WELBY 2575.
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