The Spirit of the Digger

by Patrick Lindsay

  The fighting of 3rd battalion at Maryang San was a sequence of stories of ordinary soldiers rescuing their mates, plugging gaps, pushing on hard, ignoring wounds to stay in the fight. They were not fearless in the sense of impetuous or hot-headed. They were prepared to accept great risks, they knew what had to be done and they were determined to do it.

  There are plenty of brave soldiers the world over, and some of them are very skilful also. But it is the added qualities of commonsense, initiative and concern for his fellows, so amply demonstrated by 3 RAR at Maryang San, that put the Australian soldier in a class apart. Unquestionably, the soldiers won the Maryang San battle, not just because they were brave, but because they were smart also. They recognised that, if we were to get 317 [Maryang San] at all, let alone without massive casualties, then they would have to move quickly. This they did.

  There was no heroes’ welcome home for these warriors. They left from Australia as individuals or in small groups and returned the same way, unheralded and unsung. Somehow, it did not seem to matter. There was much quiet satisfaction just in knowing one had fought at Maryang San.

  The Korean War dragged on until an armistice ended hostilities on 27 July 1953. The Australian contribution was modest in numbers but substantial in quality. In all, just over 18,000 Australians served in our armed forces in Korea, around 11,000 of them from the Army. During the war 293 Diggers gave their lives of the total of 339 killed in action and 1216 wounded from all three services.

  Our involvement in Korea under the United Nations banner won widespread support at home and gained us considerable respect internationally. It would be a different story in our next major conflict in Vietnam.

  Southeast Asia, 1965.

  CHAPTER 15

  The Vietnam War

  There’s the smell of sweat, there’s the smell of blokes who’ve pissed themselves. There’s the smell of the gunfire and the projectile propellant, cordite or gunpowder. There’s the smell of the rice and the smell of the explosives. I can smell it right now.

  The late Dennis ‘Arab’ Ayoub never forgot his first firefight as a young sapper in Vietnam:

  When an action starts there’s the smell of leaves being broken and branches being torn off and earth being kicked up and there’s the dry earth and there’s the wet earth and there’s the smell of that. As people are scrambling through the leaves and the decaying layer of flora on the floor of the jungle, there’s the smell of that stuff. I can tell you exactly what they are. I don’t care how you train a soldier, you can’t prepare him for that. To do that you’d almost have to kill a bloke and that’s not the idea.

  It’s not the firefight. It’s these smells which stay with you for the rest of your life. And the noise. The noise levels are immense. All these dimensions of noise … wack wack, wack, boom, wack, wack, wack, brrrt, wack wack. And yelling, ‘Get here’, ‘Get that fucking gun here!’ And all these are compacted. A cacophony of sound.

  But to me the jungle is a comforting smell. I like sleeping in the jungle. If I went back to the Daintree, I’d fall in love with it again.

  Dennis Ayoub was one of the 47,000 Diggers who served in Vietnam during what was Australia’s longest war. It started when our first training team landed at Tan Son Nhut Airport in Saigon on 3 August 1962 and lasted until our troops were finally withdrawn in December 1972. At the height of our involvement, our Vietnam contingent reached a maximum of around 8000 Diggers; the total Australian involvement extended to 60,000 when air force and navy personnel are included. Our total casualties were 521 killed and more than 3000 wounded.

  But these bald figures in no way reflect the impact of the war on the Australian psyche. It was the first war in which we’d fought without Britain. It was the first war the United States ever lost. It was the first war played out in living rooms, via television, particularly in the USA, where the graphic images had a substantial impact on public opinion. And while the Australian troops involved were never defeated there in any battle, their presence in Vietnam cleft our nation in two. For the first time in our history, while our Diggers were away fighting, large crowds of Australians at home were protesting at their involvement; some were even marching under the enemy’s flag and collecting funds to support that enemy against them. It was a division that would have a deep and lasting impact on many of the Diggers. For the first time, when they returned home, Diggers would be treated as pariahs and not as honoured veterans by a significant portion of the Australian people. This treatment has long rankled with many Vietnam vets, as the former commander of 3 Field Troop there, Colonel Alec ‘Sandy’ McGregor, recalls:

  When our Vietnam vets came back, they were put on the plane and while they were on it they were told to get into their civvy clothes. They arrived at midnight and were given a briefing: ‘Don’t talk about the war. It’s a year out of your life. Forget about it. The public don’t like it. The press don’t like it. Don’t talk about it.’

  Australia’s involvement in the Vietnam War was a gradual process. At the start few Australians had any idea where Vietnam was, let alone what was happening in this faraway country where our Diggers were required to fight. Dennis Ayoub’s introduction was probably typical:

  Our Staff Sergeant Major stood out on the parade ground one day and said: ‘I need some volunteers for a place called Vientiane.’ (Along with most of us, he’d never heard of this place called Vietnam.)

  I was 18. I didn’t even know where Melbourne was. I didn’t even know where the ACT was. Almost all of our troop volunteered to go, with some exceptions, some who were married, some too young or inexperienced, etc.

  Following the recently completed Korean War, the balance of the region was upset irreparably when the French were comprehensively defeated at their base at Dien Bien Phu, in central North Vietnam, in May 1954. The communist-controlled Viet Minh (who were supplied by China and Russia) bombarded, then laid siege to Dien Bien Phu. In a clear sign of things to come in the Vietnam War, the French hopelessly underestimated the tenacity and fighting capacity of their foes. In a superhuman feat, the Viet Minh dismantled and dragged artillery pieces up through the dense highlands surrounding Dien Bien Phu, then battered the 16,000-strong French garrison into submission by smashing their airstrip and surrounding them with 50,000 Viet Minh troops.

  While a stunned world watched and sat on its hands, after a 55-day siege the garrison was forced to surrender. Under the subsequent Geneva Accords, signed on 21 July 1954, France lost her Southeast Asian colonies and Vietnam was spilt in half, east-west, along the 17th parallel, with an 8-kilometre-wide demilitarised zone (or DMZ) along the border. North Vietnam fell under communist control while South Vietnam was briefly governed by the Emperor Bao Dai and then, in late 1955, became the Republic of Vietnam under President Dinh Diem. Diem and his brother Nhu were assassinated on 2 November 1963. More or less continual political instability followed.

  Fearing further communist expansion in the region, the US-led Western nations formed the Southeast Asia Treaty Organisation (or SEATO). Under it, the United States, the United Kingdom, France, Australia, New Zealand, Thailand, the Philippines and Pakistan agreed they would act in concert to defend military aggression against any of the signatories. They also designated ‘protocol’ states whose security was guaranteed by the treaty. One of these was South Vietnam.

  The gradual escalation of the communist forces in South Vietnam, from a few thousand in 1959 to more than 100,000 by 1964, saw a reciprocal growth in US military ‘advisers’ until they’d reached 16,000 in 1963. President Diem made a plea for assistance to the world’s anti-communist heads of state, including Prime Minister Sir Robert Menzies, in early 1962. Then the United States put pressure on the Australian government for advisers, citing our proven expertise in jungle fighting, and Menzies agreed to commit our first training team of 30 instructors in May 1962.

  Retired Colonel Mike McDermott served as a young lieutenant on what was officially known as the Australian Army Training Team Vietnam but bec
ame known as ‘the Team’:

  I went to Da Nang. I was flown out by Air America, the air arm of the CIA, and I flew past this area the crew called ‘Death Valley’. ‘You don’t want to go up there, sir,’ said the pilot.

  I had a job there for about three weeks when I was supposed to be acclimatised and then I was located further south, about 30k, and then, sure enough, where did they send me back to, Death Valley, and that’s where I spent most of my time. I found out later the Americans had lost 2000 killed and 14,000 wounded there. The Vietnamese lost more. And it wasn’t a very big valley.

  Many members of the Team worked, like Mike McDermott, with the indigenous tribes of the central highlands mountains in Vietnam, known by the French collective name of Montagnard. These tribes – 30 or more distinct groups – were formed into paramilitary units, which then harassed the communist lines of supply into South Vietnam. One of the most remarkable operators among the Team members there was a 28-year-old Queenslander, Captain Arthur Barry Petersen. Barry Petersen’s war experiences with the Montagnard tribes in the Darlac Province in South Vietnam’s central highlands read like a chapter out of a Robert Ludlum thriller. In fact, many believe he was the inspiration for the central character in Francis Ford Coppola’s acclaimed movie Apocalypse Now (although Petersen has always pointed out that the film was based on Joseph Conrad’s classic book Heart of Darkness). For two years Barry Petersen ran an independent field operation based out of the Darlac Province capital, Ban-Me-Thout. His work was supplied and funded by the US Central Intelligence Agency but he had unfettered operational control.

  First, he learned the languages and won the confidence of the local tribes. Then, training them in groups of 100, he amassed a Montagnard army of more than 1000 tribesmen. He was so successful he was made a tribal chieftain and given the name ‘Dam San’, after a legendary Rhade tribal warrior who was never defeated in battle. Barry Petersen effectively became a Montagnard warlord. He adopted the native dress and led his men in battle against the Viet Cong (the Vietnamese communists) in an endless cycle of raids, ambushes and patrols aimed at disrupting their infiltration and destroying their supplies and crops. He designed a tiger badge for his troops, and they became known as the ‘Tiger Men’ of Truong Son Force.

  However, the Montagnards’ ultimate aim was independence, and they harboured a deep distrust of the South Vietnamese that regularly threatened to undermine their relationship. In late 1964, Petersen’s intervention averted a major Montagnard revolt against the South Vietnamese government. It brought him praise from the US Commander in Chief but was to prove his undoing. Mike McDermott explained:

  They flew in General Westmoreland, and Petersen briefed him and Westmoreland said to the CIA: ‘Why can’t the Americans do this? Why does it have to be an Australian to be so successful?’ Petersen knew that was the death of his whole tour because the CIA would withdraw their support because they’d been publicly embarrassed in front of their chief. He was then kicked out of Vietnam by the South Vietnamese because they saw he had too much power.

  He used to wear a skirt and a little vest and he got a Cross of Gallantry with the Silver Star from the Vietnamese Army. The Australian Army sent him back as a company commander. He wasn’t allowed to go back to the north because he might lead them in a revolt. I would say the CIA would still have him under surveillance.

  Barry Petersen also won the Military Cross for his gallantry in Vietnam. He served another tour of duty in Vietnam as a major with an Australian unit. After he retired from the Army he gave his Montagnard costume to the Australian War Memorial.

  Another of that remarkable Team was Warrant Officer Kevin ‘Dasher’ Wheatley, who was training and serving with a Vietnamese/Montagnard unit in Quang Ngai Province when they came under attack in November 1965. For his heroic and selfless act in staying with his wounded comrade, Warrant Officer R.J. Swanton, when his South Vietnamese troops broke and left them after they were overrun by a large Viet Cong force, Dasher Wheatley posthumously won the Victoria Cross – the first awarded to a Digger since World War II and the first of four won by members of the Team.

  Somehow, Wheatley dragged his mate more than 200 metres under heavy fire through the open paddy field, where they had been ambushed, to the edge of the jungle. He held off the attackers until he ran out of ammunition. Then he was seen to pull the pins from two hand grenades and to coolly await the oncoming enemy. Some time later observers heard two grenade explosions, then several bursts of machine-gun fire. At first light they found the two bodies side by side. In the highest traditions of the Digger, Dasher Wheatley had refused to leave his mate.

  The other members of the Team to win VCs were Major Peter Badcoe, a bespectacled scholarly character, renowned for his fearlessness in combat, who won his VC posthumously for gallantry in a series of actions on 23 February, 7 March and 7 April 1967; Warrant Officer Ray Simpson, for actions on 6 and 11 May 1969, when, while commanding a South Vietnamese company, he made a lone stand covering his troops as they recovered their wounded during a fighting withdrawal; and Warrant Officer Keith Payne, for a similar series of incidents in Kontum Province at the end of May that year. Ray Simpson was another remarkable Digger, having served in World War II, Japan, Korea and Malaya, prior to his three tours with the Team.

  Keith Payne was 35 when he won the VC. He had joined the Army in 1951 and served with 1 Royal Australian Regiment in Korea as a private. He served with the 3rd Battalion in Malaya as a corporal and by 1965 was a company sergeant major instructing at the Officer Training Unit in Scheyville, New South Wales. After further service with the Pacific Islands Regiment in Papua New Guinea, in 1967 and 1968, he was appointed to the Team in Vietnam in February 1969.

  On 24 May that year, Keith Payne was commanding the 212th Company of the Mobile Strike Force Battalion of South Vietnamese troops when a strong North Vietnamese force attacked it in Kontum Province. Payne’s company was one of two isolated by the overwhelming enemy numbers and found itself under heavy mortar and rocket fire from three sides. Under pressure, Payne’s troops began to fall back. His VC citation records his response:

  Directly exposing himself to the enemy’s fire, Warrant Officer Payne, through his own efforts, temporarily held off the assaults by alternately firing his weapon and running from position to position collecting grenades and throwing them at the assaulting enemy.

  While doing this he was wounded in the hand and arms. Despite his outstanding efforts, the indigenous soldiers gave way under the enemy’s increased pressure and the Battalion commander, together with several advisors and a few soldiers, withdrew.

  Paying no attention to his wounds and under extremely heavy enemy fire, Warrant Officer Payne covered the withdrawal by throwing grenades and firing his own weapon at the enemy who were attempting to follow up. Still under fire, he then ran across exposed ground to head off his troops who were withdrawing in disorder. He successfully stopped them and organised the remnants of his and the second company into a temporary defensive perimeter by nightfall.

  Payne then went back out into the darkness to find his wounded and separated soldiers. He collected 40 of them and brought them back to the defensive position he had established, only to find the troops he had left there had withdrawn.

  Undeterred by this setback and personally assisting a seriously wounded American advisor he led the group through the enemy to the safety of his battalion base. His sustained and heroic personal efforts in this action were outstanding and undoubtedly saved the lives of a large number of his indigenous soldiers and several of his fellow advisors.

  Warrant Officer Payne’s repeated acts of exceptional personal bravery and unselfish conduct in this operation were an inspiration to all Vietnamese, United States and Australian soldiers who served with him. His conspicuous gallantry was in the highest traditions of the Australian Army.

  Both Keith Payne and Ray Simpson survived the conflict. Keith Payne received his VC from the Queen aboard the Royal Yacht Britannia in Brisbane,
then returned to his native far-north Queensland where he and his wife, Flo, raised five boys. In the years following the Vietnam War, Keith Payne became extremely active in the veteran community, giving long service in counselling Vietnam vets suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. He was awarded the Medal of Australia (OAM) for his service in this area in 2006. He was present at the investitures of both our current VC winners Mark Donaldson in 2009 and Ben Roberts-Smith in 2011.

  Lieutenant General Sir Thomas Daly, the Australian Army chief for most of the Vietnam War, summed up his views of the Team in a letter to the unit’s CO on 30 July 1969:

  It is always rewarding talking to these chaps [Team members]. They are the salt of the earth and all those who know them cannot but be inspired by the tremendous job they are doing for Vietnam and Australia.

  In April 1965 the Australian government agreed to an American request and sent a battalion, the 1st Battalion Royal Australian Regiment, to Vietnam to work alongside the US 173rd Airborne Brigade in the Bien Hoa-Vung Tau region. It marked a new phase in the war. The Americans were rapidly building up their forces in Vietnam – from around 80,000 to more than 200,000 during 1965. The Australians settled into operations similar to those conducted by their forebears in Kokoda and New Guinea in World War II and in the ‘Malaya Emergency’. One of the platoon commanders was a 22-year-old Duntroon graduate, Lieutenant Peter Cosgrove. He’d been in Vietnam for less than a month when he led his platoon in a sustained action in which he won the Military Cross.