In Good Company Read online

  The soldiers all took the news reasonably well; the inevitable question was asked, what next? I put the men on hold and told them to rest and clean their weapons which had had a fairly hefty workout that day. My platoon radio operator, Barry Garratt, told me that some fairly interesting conversations were coming across the net and it might be a good idea if I listened in.

  There were a couple of ‘pink teams’ operating in the area. They were reporting heavy ground fire coming from the slopes of the Nui Le hill complex. A pink team was a typical American invention: it consisted of a light observation helicopter carrying a machine gunner with an M60 who sat with his legs hanging out of the open rear door. The light observation helicopter would circle over known enemy positions and by its presence and harrassing fire from the M60 gunner, would attempt to draw ground fire from the enemy. Once this had been achieved, the light observation helicopter would mark the position with a smoke or white phosphorous grenade as a signal to a circling gunship above, which would then descend like some huge eagle and unload as much of its ordnance as possible upon the identified position. It was dangerous work but it had good results. Several times during the day we heard reports from pink team light observation helicopter pilots saying that they had been hit and were returning to their base for repairs. Regardless of what one thought about the tactics, one had to admit that these airmen had balls.

  The pink teams operating in our area continued sending reports that the enemy was exiting from the rear of the bunker system we were hitting and that the position appeared to be abandoned. Pilots who were flying Super Sky-Master A-37s, said that they were strafing columns of enemy who were filing out of the bunker system heading toward Nui Le. The transmissions we were receiving made it sound like a turkey shoot. Soon, it seemed, we would have nothing to do but sweep through the area burying corpses.

  At about 3.15 pm 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 pm 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 rocket propelled 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 off-sider 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 r
ight 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 on to 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 out-flanking 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 Dustoff helicopter from 9 Squadron RAAF, 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 quiet 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.

  By now it was getting late in the afternoon and the enemy were starting to close up to where the company had reorganised after our failed assault into an ‘empty’ bunker system. Jerry Taylor gave quick orders for a withdrawal out of the area to a position about 400 metres to our south-west where it was planned that we could set up a night defensive position. The idea was that we would withdraw in single file and simply move into a large harbour and obtain security by all round defence.

  10 Platoon led and for about five minutes things went fairly smoothly. Company headquarters was just in front of my platoon and as we started to move out the enemy began moving closer to our position and around our flanks. This was a tricky situation as we needed to break contact and get to our position without interference. 12 Platoon was to my rear and they resorted to fire and movement in an endeavour to get a clean break from the enemy. This worked for a little while and then without warning the NVA popped up on the flank of our column right opposite company headquarters, who suddenly found themselves in contact. A few of my men and I were able to get quite a few shots in at the enemy who I believe didn’t know we were there. We dropped a couple of them and then I witnessed one of the bravest things I saw that day. An enemy soldier broke out of his cover, ran forward to where one of his comrades lay, picked him up and scuttled back to the safety of the thick jungle. All that time everyone who could see him—and there must have been five or six of us—tried to shoot him and failed. If the enemy gave away medals for courage then that NVA soldier certainly earned one then.

  The forward observer, Greg Gilbert, was cal
ling down artillery fire using ‘danger close’ procedure to try and force the NVA away from our flanks; but it was having little effect. It was now about 6.30 pm; and it was becoming confusing as the light was fading. The artillery rounds were crashing down only 150 metres or so away from our withdrawing column. Somehow, by about 7.00 pm, we eventually managed to get away from the harassing enemy and we started to go into a harbour drill to establish our night defensive position. 10 Platoon led into the position which was in reasonably thick primary jungle with a lot of vines hanging off the trees and on the ground.

  I was now at the front of my platoon column. Travelling behind me was a soldier called Bob Sims who had taken over Niblett’s machine-gun. As we moved past the soldiers in 10 Platoon one of them said ‘Be careful, we thought we heard voices a minute or so ago!’ This was bad news indeed and so I passed the message down the line to be quiet as we moved into our position. Just as I moved around the side of a large bush I heard a loud ‘Oh no!’ from Sims behind me. I spun around and he was aiming his machine-gun at a bunch of enemy who appeared to be sitting on a mound about 25 metres from us. He started shooting from the hip and I quickly joined him. Pandemonuim broke out about two minutes later. Firing was directed at us from all along our front where I was quickly trying to get my men onto the ground to link up with 12 Platoon. We had gone from the frying pan into the proverbial fire.