The Battle of Long Tan

by David W. Cameron

  Sergeant Buick and Captain Stanley went back to calling the artillery fire in front of 11 Platoon.8 The fighters were ordered to drop their napalm on the forward slopes of Nui Dat 2 – it was here that the enemy command element was assessed to be positioned. On doing this, they were to immediately vacate the area.9 Stanley recalled the enormous confusion and resulting strain he felt – many others would have cracked under the pressure:

  . . . the tremendous din gave the effect of a continuous violent thunderstorm. As a result of all the noise, my observation of hundreds of 105mm shells falling reasonably close to us plus the periodic suspension of fire from Nui Dat for air clearance purposes, I became somewhat unsettled. I reported on the artillery radio: ‘The situation is too confused to use the guns.’ I might as well have said to my battery commander ‘Help’. My call for help was answered by [Major] Harry Honnor, who suggested a safe grid reference at which I could recommence firing and adjust as necessary. I will be forever thankful for the way he restored my confidence.10

  At another point, Stanley asked for ‘ten rounds gunfire’ using a superseded British mode of ordering artillery fire. An Australian gun position officer requested that Stanley correct his order with the accepted ‘ten rounds fire for effect’; this officer rightly got an immediate tongue-lashing from Lieutenant Colonel Richmond Cubis, who told him in no uncertain terms: ‘When he asks for gunfire, you give him bloody gunfire!’11

  Back at the Task Force base, both Townsend and Jackson were concerned that they were sending the APCs and A Company into an enemy ambush: setting an ambush for a relief force was a favourite tactic used by the Viet Cong. This was indeed almost certainly part of their plan for the next day’s ambush. Smith became increasingly concerned about the ongoing debate on whether the APCs and infantry relief force should come to his rescue. At some point he retorted to his CO in frustration: ‘If they don’t hurry up and get here then they might as well not come at all!’ or words to that effect.12 Townsend and Jackson finally agreed that the APCs and the relief force should be sent out.

  The APCs of 3 Troop, commanded by Lieutenant Adrian Roberts, while they had both gun shields (which turned out not to be bulletproof) and radios, both supplied by the Americans, were still far from battleworthy. They had been operating with 1 RAR, their tracks and suspension were worn and, while they had radios, they were largely primitive; however, they did enable the commander to speak to his driver as well as the commanders of other APCs, but background noise made communications difficult at best. The commander was able to speak to base, but it meant cutting communications with the rest of the troop – this also applied when listening to D Company’s transmissions. The commander had no communications with the infantry he was carrying, other than shouting above the din of the engines and the noise of war.13 The additional three carriers from 2 Troop supplied to Roberts’ squadron were commanded by Sergeant John ‘Bluey’ O’Reilly and were in better condition than the other seven APCs, having only recently arrived from Australia. However, while they had decent radios, they were missing their .50-calibre machine-gun shields.14

  Most of the men posted to 3 Troop were national servicemen and had trained at Puckapunyal in Victoria, which was remote from the infantry battalions and meant they had little combined-arms training. Their experience since arriving in Vietnam had been mostly road convoys and Roberts himself had trained as a tank commander before being assigned to 3 Troop. His command was normally held by a captain. The 2IC was Lieutenant Ian Savage, a National Service officer recently graduated from Scheyville.15 However, Roberts and his men of 3 APC Troop had gained some experience during Operation Hardihood when, in May 1966, 1 APC Squadron helped US forces clear Long Phuoc village before 1 ATF was established at Nui Dat. The role of 1 APC Sqaudron had been a blocking position east of the village and they had conducted patrols along the line of the Suoi Da Bang between Long Phuoc and Long Tan villages. During this operation Roberts and his men became familiar with the terrain around the plantation and discovered a stream crossing used by the Vietnamese bullock teams, beside an agricultural dam. This intelligence was crucial for crossing the stream, especially now that it was swollen by a tropical downpour.16

  When Roberts arrived at 6 RAR headquarters, he found Townsend and majors Harry Honnor and Brian Passey (the operations officer) in a heightened state. On looking at one of Roberts’ maps, Passey drew a circle in grid 4767, scaled at about 1000 metres in diameter – this was the general location of D Company according to the most recent information.17 Roberts was ordered to convey A Company, 6 RAR to join D Company, 6 RAR and break up the attack.18 No other orders were given, and nor was a route to the battle area provided. Roberts quickly boarded his carrier and with the other nine APCs headed to A Company lines, where the infantry was waiting. It was now around 5.15 p.m. Meanwhile, Captain Charles Mollison, commanding A Company, had been provided with his orders: he was to move by APCs to the AO (area of operations). His men were to relieve the pressure of the Viet Cong attack against D Company by attacking from the south, reinforce D Company, repel any attacks, and secure the AO to enable D Company to evacuate the wounded.19

  19

  ‘Keep this for me, skipper’

  1715–1730 hours

  The artillery was crucial in the Battle of Long Tan, and apart from the professionalism of the gunners and their officers, other factors contributed to the effectiveness of the fire support: the ‘convenient range of 5000 to 6000 metres; the infantry being on a line between the guns and the target area on the near side of the target to the guns; the rubber trees causing airburst and creating maximum destruction by scattering splinters down on the exposed enemy; [with] unlimited ammunition’.1 Even so, the guns and associated communications equipment were not designed to operate in tropical conditions, which became evident not long after the Australians arrived in Vietnam.

  Sergeant Jim King of 105 Battery recalled how, during the battle, a bolt of lightning took out the tannoy system, disrupting communications between the gunners and the command post. Orders had to be shouted down the line until the system was repaired. When it was finally repaired it was again put out of action by shorting due to the rain. Condensation also continually fogged up the gun sights. King remembered:

  To keep firing my gun, we finished up using a bicycle torch attached to a star picket as a GAP [gun aiming point]. I know the other guns used the same or similar GAPs . . . It was soon realised that with the number of ‘ten rounds, fire for effect’ and the periods of ‘continuous fire’, which meant for 10 to 12 minutes at a time, we would soon run out of ammunition. This was reported to the command post and a massive ammunition resupply from the ammunition dump to the guns was put into effect. Cooks, clerks, medics, Q Store staff, technicians from the RAEME [Royal Australian Electrical and Mechanical Engineers] workshops, and members of 131 Divisional Locating Battery assisted in resupplying the gun line.2

  Some cooks, however, remained at their post, supplying the men with something hot to eat and drink during the torrential downpour; an unknown New Zealand gunner recalled how cooks came ‘looming out of the rain from time to time with a huge pot of stew and a ladle to keep us all going’.3

  Another problem was that the ammunition itself, which was principally supplied by the US Army, and which the Australian government paid for, was unreliable. The Australians were the only allies of the US who paid their own way, paying for everything from ammunition to razor blades; all other allies had their ‘costs’ covered by the US government.4 The accuracy of the US-supplied shells depended on the batch number – quality control during production obviously being a major problem – some from one lot might be accurate, while shells with a different batch number could be up to 400 metres out. To help counter this, the Anzac gunners adopted a policy of having two different types of ammunition: ‘close target’, where one batch of a lot number known to be accurate was used by all guns when firing in direct support of Australian troops, and inaccurate, which were different-weight projectile
s used to harass the Viet Cong by firing at irregular intervals to keep them wondering where the next round was going to fall.5 The latter were only fired when no Australian patrols were in the area and a 400 ‘drop short’ would not endanger the lives of Australian infantry.

  New Zealand signaller Patrick Duggan was in the thick of it, and later recounted how ‘the position looked like hell on earth, with clouds of cordite smoke gusting across as the rain hammered down . . . the noise was unbelievable. There was no let-up, and while we were concentrating on the task at hand – for me, emptying charge bags into casings and screwing on their deadly, high-explosive noses – we had no real sense of how the fortunes of the battle were running, whether it was won or lost.’6

  The rain and continuous firing were creating a potentially serious situation for those manning the guns and the battery positions. When each shell was fired it resulted in toxic fumes, which are normally dispersed – but the storm, lack of wind, and continued firing were preventing the toxic cloud from dispersing and it was lying all around the battery positions.7 Some were forced out of the battery area to vomit and after a short break would head back into the toxic mix. Gunner Jason Neville of 105 Field Battery recalled: ‘While we were belting out the rounds some of the dig[gers] from our Battery were fainting as the smoke (cordite) was inhaled by all and caused [them] to stop . . . breathing. Some only vomited but nobody was really bad as our medic pull[ed] them through.’8 Indeed, at no time during the battle did a gun stop firing because of a shortage of ammunition or a reduction in its crew.9

  Back in the plantation, Lieutenant Sabben and his two sections from 12 Platoon had continued their advance towards 11 Platoon. They took a line slightly east of south and were soon approaching the old tapper’s hut. Sabben was acutely conscious of the gap into their rear, and that they could themselves be easily cut off from CHQ if they moved too far forward. He was desperately hoping that 11 Platoon would be able to withdraw to his position.10 They made it about 200 metres when they were hit with overwhelming fire from a number of different directions.

  Private Alan Parr, a machine gunner for 7 Section, recalled: ‘Across to my right front I could see a hut and in the top window I noticed tracers screaming from a machine gun in our direction. I fired off a burst – about 60 rounds from the M60 – at the window but word came to hold fire as they didn’t know exactly where 11 Platoon were. Even though I’d stopped firing, it was obvious it wasn’t 11 Platoon in the hut. The VC were taking advantage of the height, sweeping fire down into the rubber trees.’11 Nearby, Private Max Cameron also knew that those firing at them were Viet Cong. Fire was coming from the hut to their right, and bugles could be heard blowing out orders. At one point a bugler was hit by Private Bryan ‘Bushy’ Forsyth, but within seconds another Viet Cong took up the bugle in his place.12

  Private Stan Hodder, who was part of platoon headquarters, recalled being immediately ‘pinned down by heavy fire from a machine gun – you just couldn’t move’. This was soon added to by small-arms fire, including submachine guns from a number of different directions, most of it from the direction of the tapper’s hut to their right. They were now met by a large enemy force, about a company strong, coming up on their right (south) flank.13 Sabben and his men fired and with their first volley dropped about a dozen of the enemy, but were forced to ground as concentrated return fire tore into their position and the enemy continued to advance upon them.14

  Sergeant Bob Buick was not far away, and recalled that the light over the battlefield was now very gloomy as a result of a ‘combination of the failing natural light as darkness approached and the severe tropical thunderstorm that was lashing the Long Tan plantation. The smoke from the intense small-arms and artillery gunfire was creating a dense fog, which was hanging low over the battlefield.’15 He and his men could see the enemy moving around in the mist, trying to find their exposed flanks. They were taking fire from three directions, but while the poor visibility was to their advantage, any movement would bring a hail of concentrated enemy fire. It was impossible to withdraw with the large number of casualties.16

  In the rain and mist, Sabben and his men, a few hundred metres behind 11 Platoon, saw haunting and fleeting images of indistinct shapes: groups of enemy troops, moving to the north-east and south-east. Sabben distinctly recalled movement to his front, converging from left and right, and when they met he knew that they were getting in between his platoon and 11 Platoon. He and his men fired on the concentrating Viet Cong and they immediately scattered left and right. The Australians attempted again to advance but only managed another few metres, when they were hit with tremendous fire, appearing to be overshoots from 10 and 11 platoons’ areas as well as other Viet Cong who were firing directly at Sabben’s advance. It was now only their presence that stopped the enemy from completely surrounding 11 Platoon, and it was their fire that kept a corridor open.17

  Before long, additional parties of Viet Cong were identified to their front, trying again to sandwich themselves between the two Australian platoons. This allowed them to attack 11 Platoon from the rear, cutting off all avenues of escape for the platoon’s survivors.18 Parr recalled how the enemy were trying to circle around 11 Platoon, because ‘they didn’t know how many of us were there . . . [soon it] looked as though they were coming out from behind the hut. I reckon there was a couple of hundred Viet Cong marching away from Eleven Platoon, heading around behind company head­quarters, dark figures moving through the trees in a line. Because I was facing Eleven Platoon, I ran across into the rubber trees and plonked down facing that group of men I could see, and fired another burst.’19

  With every passing minute the torrential downpour and developing mist made it more difficult to see the enemy, with rain from the Australians’ raggedy hats drenching their faces and nothing dry to wipe away the water from their eyes. Sabben recalled:

  Above us the thunderheads were lightning, and we had the effect of lightning subdued but under the clouds. It would be like flashbulbs going off, but not startling, just dimly. When the artillery flashed it was the same thing, except you could hear the noise and see the vapour of the blast. You could see the lightning and because we were right under it, you could hear the thunder straight away. But it was low rumbling. That feeling you have when you’re sitting in the theatre and they put on the earthquake sounds, and your guts churn. Everything instantly is wet around you, and the rain is coming down so hard it’s going straight through the leaf canopy, it pushes the canopy out of the way, and it’s like little bullets hitting the ground. And once the ground was wet, once it was saturated – because it was level and there was nowhere for the water to go – it just lay there, so the pools formed within a few minutes. And once the pools formed, the rain was pelting into the pools, and the pools were dissolving the surface mud, and the pools then were splashing. And the rain was heavy enough to raise that little splash mist about a foot [30 cm] above the ground. So we were lying on the ground in that mist and, from 25 yards [23 metres] away, if you looked, you’d just see the uniform reddish-brown mist. But occasionally you’d see a hat sticking through it.20

  At 5.17, Major Smith radioed to battalion headquarters that 11 Platoon was surrounded at position 485670, while 12 Platoon, which had gone forward to try to extricate it, was itself pinned down taking heavy fire and was being directly assaulted; its position was 481672. He also confirmed that the enemy force was ‘generally EAST and also SOUTH of 670 Northing’.21 Private Noel Grimes, No. 2 on Parr’s M60, recalled: ‘Originally 11 Platoon got pinned . . . meanwhile we all stayed put where we were and we could hear the gunfire up ahead. We’re thinking, “What’s going on, what’s going on?” with a bit of confusion obviously and then 10 Platoon went to their aid and they got pinned, and then in our turn we went up and we got pinned – we were all pinned and quite frankly no one knew where anybody was. The sig sets were jamming because it was so full on and they were all trying to talk to each other.’22

  Even so, Sabben and his men manag
ed to fight off the enemy to their front, allowing a tentative corridor to exist between the two platoons. Sabben, like Lieutenant Geoff Kendall before him, was now unable to advance to 11 Platoon. He was not completely sure how far in front 11 Platoon was positioned, as visibility was down to 70 metres. The young lieutenant and his men had been in the thick of it for over 30 minutes but still held their ground, determined to keep the passage open between them and 11 Platoon somewhere up ahead.23

  At 5.20, Smith requested Lieutenant Colonel Townsend to send in a ‘heliborne assault’, but given the weather, appalling visibility, approaching darkness and lack of a secure landing zone, Townsend replied that this was ‘totally impossible’. Townsend told Smith that a company in APCs would soon be leaving Nui Dat to come to their position.24 Smith informed Townsend that the ‘enemy [were] dressed in green camouflage’ and positioned in ‘general area Pt 66’.25

  Meanwhile, Sabben knew that if his platoon tried to advance any further they would be surrounded, and given the overwhelming number of the enemy force around them, they couldn’t hope to survive an assault from more than one direction at a time.26 He was correct to be concerned, as Corporal Laurie Drinkwater recalled. When they got pinned down there was some movement to their rear, but Drinkwater and the others couldn’t distinguish who was there, friend or foe. They were aware that B Company was on its way to their position – was it them? He remembered that troops were wandering around and looking at them, and looked back at them. Private Grimes recalled that with the appalling ‘monsoonal conditions, torrential rain and slush and poor visibility [along with] the Viet Cong looking just like us in jungle greens . . . at one stage we were told to cease firing because we thought it might be B Company coming through the rubber trees’.27 Private Neil Bextram of 7 Section was adamant that they were not the men from B Company and, yelling to those around him ‘B Company be fucked!’, started firing on them. Sabben’s platoon now took fire from at least three directions; there was just no way forward.28 Private Kevin Graham was shot in the chest and, as recalled by Parr, was asked if he could make his own way back to CHQ: ‘He replied, “Fucking oath I can” and took off like a scalded cat.’29