The Battle of Long Tan
Page 23
We didn’t fire until they were probably about 30–35 metres at the most out, for a couple of reasons. First of all we didn’t want to disclose our positions – we were low down on the ground with buckets of rain, and being prone on the ground is a good place to be. You don’t want to give that away unless you’re going to do something . . . We actually waited until the enemy was close and then we fired and . . . we managed to stop the front line. The second line was always about 100 metres behind them and . . . in both cases [they were] very badly knocked about by the artillery. A lot were killed but others stayed behind and sniped.27
The Anzac artillery came in and completely wiped out the enemy attack. Kendall recalled that they were just like a ‘pack of cards falling down. This was a big factor in assisting us in stopping the assault.’28 Private Grimes of 12 Platoon recalled ‘Harry Smith calling in the artillery that was hot on our heels – it was the most frightening thing of the day really in my view, the artillery, but they did save the day . . . but it was frightening, the whole thing was obviously frightening . . . but they just go off with such a big bang and big flash that they seemed to [explode] right in front of us . . . I’ve got to give Harry Smith full credit for he was calling in the artillery.’29
Major Smith’s radio operator, Graham Smith, recalled: ‘The main factor that saved our arse that day, or preserved it . . . was the artillery, absolutely magnificent [even though] it was very, very close at times and I know the artillery signallers had some communication problems . . . There was so much smoke and enemy moving on the battlefield silhouetted against the smoky background and I’m wanting to shoot a couple and Harry is saying “No” – he was firing plenty of shots.’30 Major Smith needed his chief radio operator to focus on keeping communications open between him and the Task Force base.
Sergeant Bob Buick recalled that at this time the ‘rising mist and gunsmoke from the battlefield was . . . aiding the . . . company. The enemy, who most surprisingly were walking around the position, could easily be seen because they were silhouetted’ against the exploding shells.31 The Anzac artillery no longer had to offer support to differing platoons but were now focusing all of their fire at the same target: the encroaching enemy north, east and south of Smith’s position. It was later estimated that about 1500 kg of high-explosive shells landed on the enemy troops every few minutes – 18 guns firing at least five rounds a minute at the enemy troops that were still massing around their position.32
Lieutenant David Sabben looked on as the wall of high explosive and shrapnel tore into the ranks of the advancing enemy line. He recalled how the results were nothing like they were portrayed in the movies: ‘The typical idea of artillery firing is a flash and bodies hurtling and so on . . . but in reality . . . there’s a sudden impact where you see the whole environment just shudder, just vibrate, and then everything is just steam and smoke and you don’t see anything, and anything that might have been shattered has gone and as the smoke and steam dissipate you see the leaves just falling down or whatever else was there just falling down . . . and then they weren’t there.’33
Close by, Private Bill Doolan of 10 Platoon looked on as the main assault came on. There seemed to be hundreds of Viet Cong advancing in formation straight towards him. He and those around him kept firing, but then Doolan’s Armalite begun to misfire. He remembered he couldn’t get it firing properly and was cursing and swearing to himself as the rain poured down and the enemy troops advanced to his position.34 He wasn’t the only one having problems with his weapon – next to him, a machine gunner had been wounded. Doolan got on to the M60 and could not get it to work. He was cocking it and ‘belting it against a tree and carrying on with it, and the bastard of a thing wouldn’t work . . . I remember someone asking whether we had bayonets; I didn’t have one so I got my machete out and lay that near me because I didn’t know whether we’d have to stand and fight them.’35
A number of the enemy troops in the first-line assault managed to gain a position just 20 metres from the Australian firing line. Major Smith’s men opened fire, causing the enemy survivors to take cover in the mist and shattered foliage. These Viet Cong troops began to snipe at the Australians while another human wave was forming up behind them just 100 metres back. However, Kendall saw to his relief that the Anzac artillery, being directed by Captain Morrie Stanley, was knocking out the reserve line that was forming up.36 Stanley himself, in a brief respite, heard an Australian next to him calmly saying to himself, ‘Steady . . . aim . . . fire!’ and was reassured by the calibre of the men defending the position.37 Even so, Major Smith recalled that the Viet Cong would pick themselves up and re-form and once again advance, over the top of their dead comrades. They just kept pushing forward. Something had to give.38
Now individual duels between Australians and Viet Cong took place, each trying to pick off any movement. Small groups of Viet Cong began to move around the perimeter in an attempt to block any avenue of escape. Bullets slammed into the Australian position. Sabben recalled: ‘When a soldier is killed, it’s an unbelievable thing. You don’t believe that’s happening. You can see a soldier lying there and there’s a flinch and they go slack . . . it’s not a hysterical flinging of arms in the air and a double somersault backwards . . . If he’s standing up it’s like his legs are just cut out from underneath him. He just collapses . . . and lies still. If he’s lying on the ground there’s just a flinch.’39
As the firefight continued, some of the enemy troops were able to creep ever closer to the Australian perimeter. One Vietnamese soldier managed to get behind the forward troops and was just 5 metres from Lieutenant Geoff Kendall when the ever-dependable Private Bill ‘Yank’ Akell again came to his rescue. ‘I don’t know whether it was just before the second assault or not, but I remember Yank Akell, the reserve signaller, who was on the other side of the rubber tree . . . still had an Owen gun because we hadn’t been issued with very many Armalites then. Anyway he looked around the tree at me at one stage and had a silly grin on his face and said, “Got that bastard, sir.” I looked to the front and there was a Viet Cong lying I suppose 3 metres from us. He’d obviously crawled up between the assaults, and old Yank had let him have it straight through the top of the head.’40
Akell recalled how he and Sergeant Neil Rankin were positioned behind one rubber tree:
The next tree was where Geoff Kendall was, so we were only a couple of metres apart and the problem that we had was that we were wearing jungle-green uniforms . . . [which] because of the torrential rain [quickly] took on a very dark colour . . . the Viet Cong were in dark-coloured uniforms. They were crawling towards us and the problem we had was that we knew there was probably some of our wounded who were trying to make their way back to company headquarters; so anybody crawling towards you, and a lot had mud splattered on their faces as well from the rain, [meant] it was very, very difficult. If you saw someone 20 metres out you couldn’t afford to take the shot because you weren’t too sure if it was one of [our] wounded coming up or it was a Viet Cong; you really had to wait until they got close enough for positive identification and . . . that’s the main reason I suppose you would say the enemy were allowed to crawl as close to us as they did. It was out of fear of shooting one of our wounded who might be crawling back towards us.41
24
‘We’re not going to get out of this – no way’
1830–1840 hours
Now the second assault line against CHQ’s position had formed up. Bugles were blaring and the line advanced against the small pocket of Australian defenders. Yet again, the artillery was called in, smashing the organised attack, but survivors from this wave managed individually to push forward to link up with those from the first wave. An unknown Australian later stated ‘a solid line of them – it looked like hundreds – would suddenly rush us. The artillery would burst right in the middle of them and there would be bodies all over the place. The survivors would dive for cover beside those bodies, wait for the next attacking line, get up an
d leap over the dead to resume the rush. They were inching forward all the time over their piles of dead.’1
Lieutenant David Sabben recalled that even with the intense artillery bombardment, a number of enemy troops made it through. When the survivors of one wave went to ground, a bugle would sound and another wave would charge forward, and the survivors from this line would drop down beside those who had made it through the first time. Then the bugle would blow again and another line charged forward. This was repeated time and time again, with each major assault coming in about five minutes after the previous one. First from the south-east, then from the north-east, then another from the south – they were uncoordinated and the next direction of assault was unknown. In between, some would attack in small groups, or there might be a lull of up to several minutes between assaults.
These brief lulls in human-wave assaults gave the Australians the chance to spread their ammunition around, reload their magazines and check on those who were either side of them. However, each time they saw the enemy re-forming for another major attack and heard the bugles and whistles, they wondered whether this would be the one that would break through their weak perimeter and overrun the heart of their position.2
One of Sabben’s men, Private Noel Grimes, recalled how the enemy bullets crisscrossed through their small defensive position, and while the branches from the rubber trees were falling everywhere, the enemy just pushed on. There were many of them, and they darted from tree to tree and dived in among the dead and wounded – they didn’t just stand there. They were continually on the move and all seemed to be heading straight for him.3
Lieutenant Geoff Kendall recalled seeing a 20-year-old regular from Perth, Private Rick Aldersea, with one of the few working machine guns firing into the line of oncoming enemy troops. He moved to another spot to get a better position and was killed. His No. 2, a 22-year-old army regular from Goondiwindi, Queensland, Private Max Wales, took over the gun, but within seconds he was also killed.4 Private Len Vine recalled: ‘You couldn’t lift your head up . . . all of our machine gunners got hit because with an M60, [if] you had a stoppage, you had to lift your chest up to open the butt up to clear the round. They all got shot in the chest, all our machine gunners got hit [that way], except Rick Aldersea, who stood up and he was more or less firing from the hip. He got hit straightaway.’5 Nearby was Private Tony Stepney who recalled: ‘Johnny Cash, a mate of mine, was shot in the knee . . . [then there was] Jack Jewry up a little bit further from me and then there was Rick Aldersea who was just about three or four guys down from the other side of me, and when you hear they’ve been killed you think “Oh my God”. . . All you could hear when they were attacking was these blessed bugles . . . and they just came in waves and if someone fell others would pick him up and take him back and the rest would continue on.’6
Company No. 2 signaller Private Bill Akell recalled: ‘If you ask anyone who was at Long Tan what’s one of the things they remember, they’ll always tell you the bugles . . . That’s the way they communicated, it was by bugle, to charge, retreat, left or right, whatever, it was their bugle calls. It was such a piercing [sound] . . . the shriek of the Viet Cong bugles . . . you’ll always remember the bugles.’7 Indeed, these diggers’ forefathers at Gallipoli would have had similar memories of the Turkish bugles, using the same communication system to help them launch human-wave attacks against the Anzacs 50 years before.
If this assault continued for much longer, the overwhelming number of enemy troops had to break the Australian defence. While the Viet Cong were suffering large numbers of casualties with each human wave, some managed to push through the barrage and congregate close to the Australian perimeter. Private Vine recalled: ‘They were 100 metres from us, less than that . . . they were chanting . . . psyching themselves up . . . you’d see them in lines . . . then the bugle would go and they’d charge us and they’d walk through our artillery fire, which was just wiping them out . . . If we didn’t have that [artillery] we’d have been dead.’8 As each main assault line advanced, ‘the fallen of the previous assault . . . who had been lying there joined the attackers in a rolling effect, which gave an impression of invincibility.’9 Lieutenant Geoff Kendall remembered thinking that they weren’t going to get out of this. He thought of his wife, who was about to give birth to their first child, and how ‘lousy’ it would be for his son or daughter to be born after his or her father had been killed.10
While fire had been brought to bear against Nui Dat 2, Viet Cong heavy and light machine guns positioned along its forward slopes had been active throughout the battle and continued to pour fire into what they believed to be the Australian position. However, the area was so broad and visibility so limited that the Viet Cong could not directly observe their targets. It was not long before Sergeant Major Jack Kirby and others realised that another heavy machine gun was being established just 50 metres to their front (east). The warrant officer, alone, moved out of the perimeter, killed the machine-gun crew and somehow made his way back unhurt – undoubtedly this action saved the lives of many Australians and helped to further secure their tenuous defensive position.
Regimental signaller Corporal Graham Smith recalled: ‘I never fired a shot in the battle, even though I wanted to. I could see plenty of enemy, but Harry Smith said “No, you stay on the radio.”’ Major Smith told him later that this ‘enabled him to concentrate on other things, I was experienced enough to be able to tell B [Battalion] HQ exactly what was going on. Occasionally the commanding officer, Townsend, needed to speak to Harry directly and I handed the radio set over.’ He too remembered Kirby in action: ‘I saw Jack Kirby do some absolutely wonderful things . . . I would certainly have gone along with Jack Kirby [getting a Victoria Cross]. He did take out an enemy machine gun and he told me as soon as he’d done it; and he was just guiding people around and giving them moral support.’11
Private Akell, who himself acted courageously in running through the gauntlet of enemy fire to get his radio to 10 Platoon, agrees with his mate Graham Smith: ‘How Jack Kirby was never awarded the Victoria Cross I will never know, because of what he did. He was the one who broke open the ammunition when the boxes were dropped from the helicopters after our resupply; he was the one who pulled out his bayonet, cut the wires and forced them [the ammunition boxes] open, and this is with rounds pinging off everywhere; he was the one who ran forward and distributed that ammunition – nobody went back for the ammunition, he took it forward; he took out the [enemy] heavy machine gun there. To this day I will swear to anybody that Jack Kirby was well deserving of a Victoria Cross. I have got no doubts about that whatsoever.’12
Indeed, many others recalled that despite the fire coming into their position, Kirby moved around the men inspiring them, joking, encouraging them to hold on, distributing much-needed ammunition and helping the wounded. A long-standing joke in D Company was that the sergeant major always referred to Private Harry Esler as ‘Private Ralph’, who had last been seen while on a patrol in Malaya. Every time he approached Esler in the thick of the action, Kirby would say to the private, ‘You remind me of that bludger’, and on his journeys around the perimeter he would remark, ‘How are you, Private Ralph?’ and ‘You’re not going to get back if you don’t watch out.’ Undeterred, Esler would reply, ‘I will. You make sure you do.’13
Private Bill Doolan recalled seeing Kirby running around everywhere screaming encouragement to the men, like: ‘Keep it up, fellows’, ‘You’re doing great, fellows’, and things of that sort.14 At some point during the thick of the fighting he made an appearance at the aid post having dodged a round of fire, as recalled by the wounded Corporal John Robbins. He yelled words of encouragement to the wounded, but also yelled for the men to keep down. According to Robbins, he was lying ‘on top of me. He said, “I’ll get you out of here, mate, don’t worry,” and I can remember saying, “I hope you can, but I won’t need the VC to kill me because you’ll bloody well kill me yourself if you don’t get off me.” I thought he
was terrific the way he got about and organised things and kept blokes’ spirits up. How he never got hit himself I’ll never know. The size he was, it’s a miracle.15 Private Tony Stepney recalled: ‘I really do believe that CSM Kirby should have got a VC for what he did. We’re almost short of ammunition and he’d come along . . . with bandoliers of ammunition and he’d put it next to our arms and say, “You have to load your own magazine, mate.”’16
Another who was recognised for his outstanding bravery and service was the company medic, Corporal Phil Dobson. Major Smith recalled how he gave a ‘magnificent amount of first aid to the wounded’.17 Esler said that Dobson should have been awarded the Victoria Cross for what he did: ‘You’d see him run up front, out of sight, bring back a wounded fellow, patch him up, and away he’d go again. He was a champion, that bloke.’18 Private Peter Doyle also recalled that ‘Doc’ Dobson was doing everything in his power to attend to the wounded and stressed: ‘He’s a Band-Aid putter-on and “Here’s an Aspro” – every one of those people that he treated lived. Not bad when you’ve got blokes with severe gunshot wounds.’19 Eventually 23 wounded men were under the care of Doc Dobson, some of whom would surely have died without his skill and dedication.20
There was no let-up. The main frontage of the attacks was from the east and south, where 10 and 12 platoons took the brunt of the fighting, but other smaller uncoordinated attacks were developing around the remainder of the perimeter. Major Smith and Captain Morrie Stanley were tasked with keeping the company together as a fighting unit, keeping track of ammunition supply and, most important of all, directing the fire missions that were keeping them in the fight. Without them, they had no chance of surviving the enemy assaults. Smith’s task was to work with Stanley, and he recalled that Stanley did an excellent job with the artillery. He later stated that it was the accurate artillery fire, along with the fact that they were positioned on a small slope and not on flat ground, that saved them from being overrun. He also recalled that he and CHQ virtually sat there calling in the artillery and watching events unfold as almost impartial observers. The Viet Cong would assault and withdraw, assault again and withdraw. They attacked from a number of different directions, but fortunately for him and his men, had not yet assaulted them from behind – their weak spot.21 Even so there were concerns, as a number of enemy troops could be seen in that very direction.