Corporal Laurie Drinkwater was positioned along the left flank of 12 Platoon and, through the driving rain, saw enemy troops trying to flank them to the north. He and those around him were firing at the oncoming troops when he looked back towards his mate Private Paul Large, who was only a few metres behind him. ‘I just looked around and I saw him with his head down. I didn’t know whether he was packing it in or not, so I was yelling out at him and throwing rocks; [Private] Neil Bextram crawled over to him and looked over to me and said, “Paul’s dead.” I said, “Can you get him back to the aid post?” and Neil and [Private] Noel Grimes dragged him back.’22 Indeed, just before, Sabben had witnessed the 22-year-old manager from Wellington in NSW, Private Large, being shot in the forehead and knew he must be dead.23
Privates Bextram and Grimes, under fire, managed to get Large back to the CAP (company aid post) and then returned to their firing positions. Private Alan Parr also got up to help, but there was no point in three doing it, so he immediately went back to his position to offer covering fire – this incident would haunt Private Parr for many years.24 Close by was Large’s best mate in the army, Private David Beahan. He recalled that hearing his mate had been killed ‘really knocked the shit out of me . . . I just cried and cried and cried. I think we all prayed and cried. I don’t believe there’s one that wouldn’t have cried during the battle.’25 Beahan would never get to be the best man at his mate’s wedding.
Since the depleted company had gathered together, Major Smith’s command had suffered another ten or 12 casualties, with four of these having been killed. Something had to give. As they were removed to the aid post, Smith had no choice but to shrink his perimeter to help with its defence.26 The wounded Private John Cash, located within the first-aid post, recalled that at this point ‘a few times you thought that’s the end of things . . . Lying there you can’t do anything – you can’t fire back because you’ve got no rifle.’27
The enemy, seemingly not short of troops or ammunition, continued to press forward, certain of victory. The low crest to their front meant that a large amount of the Viet Cong small-arms fire passed overhead. The grey mist rising from the ground was still present, providing an ‘eerie appearance to the protruding heads of the Australians as they raised themselves to fire’.28 Drinkwater was sure that his time had come when Kirby came along and plonked himself down next to him, saying, ‘Do you know that bloke out there?’ and pointed to some Viet Cong to their front; the private replied, ‘No’ and Kirby said, ‘Well, shoot him . . . Shoot anyone you don’t know.’29
Kirby continued around to the northern perimeter, carrying bandoliers of ammunition, and came across privates Terry Burstall and Richard Brown of 12 Platoon. While they had seen the main attacks focusing to their right along the eastern part of the perimeter, they had also seen a number of Vietnamese probing their position. Kirby told them to be prepared: ‘because he reckoned that any moment they’d twig [to] where we were, and send a large group around through the thick scrub on the edge of the plantation and assault straight up the rise into our position’.30 Sure enough, within minutes tracer fire came into their position from this direction, one of which found a mark in Private Harley Webb, who was hit in the neck and began rolling rounding in agony. Burstall was just setting out to bring him in when, seemingly out of nowhere, Big Jack Kirby ‘came thundering down the slope behind me. He raced past me and got down to the bloke – it was young Webb, the reinforcement who’d only just joined us. Kirby scooped him up and threw him on his shoulder like a bag of spuds and started back.’31 Undoubtedly this act saved the young national serviceman’s life. Brown turned to Burstall, who had made his way back to his position, and said ‘we weren’t going to get out of this, and all I could say was “I know that”. We both thought we’d had it.’32
As had occurred with the previous defence of 11 Platoon’s position, most of the rubber trees within and around D Company’s defensive position had now been raked with bullets, while some had been torn apart by RPG fire. A never-ending supply of tracer rounds slammed into the trees or flew just centimetres above the men’s heads. Major Smith remembered looking in front and seeing Sergeant Don ‘Jack’ Thompson, his mortar-fire controller, lying behind a rubber tree. Smith noted that it wasn’t ‘great cover because the rubber trees are [not] that [broad] and his head was that wide, so it really wasn’t of much use, but it was psychological protection and . . . I remember looking at Jack and looking over him towards the enemy and seeing the tree just above his head being peppered by tracer rounds just going straight through it.’33 Smith also recalled that these rounds had the appearance of fireflies as they came towards them.
While the slight rise offered some protection to his men, the defensive position that D Company was required to take meant that all the initiative was with the enemy – they could dictate events. It was the key link between Stanley and Major Harry Honnor back at Nui Dat that kept D Company in the fight. Stanley remembered as the rain poured down that his ‘judgment of distance was assisted by the observation (or lack of it) of flash against this screen [of rain] and the enemy were silhouetted as were our own troops’.34
Major Smith was concerned that should the enemy change tactics and launch multiple attacks against his perimeter at the same time, the artillery defensive fire would be divided and the enemy would push further towards the perimeter, beyond the ability of the artillery to fire out of fear of hitting then men of D Company itself. The enemy were now using their proven tactic when fighting against those with artillery support: ‘holding the belt with one hand and punching with the other’. Already a large force of fresh enemy troops had been seen moving to the south and west of their position, in an attempt to encircle them; these were members of the local D445 VC Battalion. Smith and his men were wondering whether their relief troops would arrive in time – it was now approaching 6.40 p.m.35 Indeed, Corporal Kevin Miller of 12 Platoon, even with the ammunition resupply, was down to just two rounds. He recalled thinking, ‘This is it – we’re not going to get out of this. Nobody thought we would.’36
Close by was Sergeant Neil Rankin of 10 Platoon, who was facing the third major assault against his position. The Viet Cong just seemed to keep on coming. He watched as the assault came in ‘picking up cable from the ground. I later found they laid cable on the move. They hit us with heavy machine-gun and small-arms fire from a wide front, and we opened fire on them at a distance of 60 to 80 metres, cutting into them. After about ten minutes, they broke contact.’37
Luckily for Smith and his men, the Viet Cong commanders were at certain points relying on telephone cables for communications, and when the artillery fire cut the cables, communications turned into a shambles, with runners and bugles having to be increasingly used to try to direct the battle. Confusion set in and a true fog of war developed. Among the men trying to fix the cables and act as runners were those from the transportation unit that was assisting Ms Phuong Chin’s Civil Labour Company. This confusion undoubtedly assisted in the relief force not being ambushed by the Viet Cong – a common tactic.
Soon Rankin’s position was hit with mortar fire, bombs exploding in and around them: ‘We were trying to dig in with our bare hands, as our entrenching tools were with our packs, out somewhere the enemy held. I could see them moving forward collecting their dead and wounded, along with weapons.’ Seeing the enemy picking up weapons from the fallen, he yelled at his men: ‘Shoot them before they pick up the bloody things!’38 He would later feel remorse about this order, but he simply had no choice in the matter. By now Kendall and others had become aware that it was the enemy wounded from the assault waves and those taking cover among them who were causing the most casualties to the Australians. ‘They just lay there, waiting for the next assault wave to come in, and between-times they’d crawl forward and snipe at [any of] our fellows they could see.’39
Private Stepney recalled how each man knew he could depend on those around him, especially their platoon commanders: ‘Geoff [Ken
dall] was great, [Neil] Rankin was great.’40 Rankin recalled that conditions remained atrocious as the rain bucketed down. By the time of the third enemy withdrawal, things were looking pretty grim. They got more ammunition sent up during this slight lull, but even so it was not long before they needed more, and most of the machine guns had packed it in and were useless.41 With each assault the enemy seemed to be getting closer, and he began to think that either the enemy would overrun them or the enemy force would have to withdraw as they had lost so many men; he desperately hoped for the latter. He remembered praying and thinking of his parents back home – he had little prospect of seeing them again.42
Lieutenant Kendall, whose position had been taking the brunt of all attacks to date, was thinking the same thing, that time was pretty much up. He had already replaced his Armalite, which had malfunctioned, and it was getting dark, which would assist the enemy in getting in among them. Most of the men didn’t carry bayonets ‘and a lot of the boys had entrenching tools and machetes out beside them’.43 Akell vividly remembered the call of the bugles and their deadly intent: they were ‘shocking, that was horrendous. You saw them lining up, you heard the awful sound. They were spread out in an extended line in the pouring rain. You could see these black figures coming your way. Your mind is going a hundred miles an hour. I thought, This is my last moment on earth.’44 He had again taken up a position with Rankin and recalled at this point ‘looking at Neil when the Viet Cong massed themselves for what was to be the final push, the final assault upon us. I looked at Neil and we just sort of shook our heads and thought, Nah, this is going to be it. We’re not going to get out of this – no way . . . They started with their bugles blowing and they started to advance on us.’45
Moments earlier, Lieutenant Adrian Roberts, leading in the centre of the line with his seven APCs in open formation, had entered the plantation. He was still unsure of the exact position of D Company, but the sound of battle was getting louder as they advanced, providing him with a general direction to take. At first, when they had entered the young rubber of the plantation, where the small trees were only 2–3 metres high, the branches created havoc for the commanders in their open hatches. Between the young rubber trees, waist-high scrub grew in profusion. Corporal Rod Armstrong of A Company was riding on top of an APC and saw more mature rubber trees exploding a few hundred metres to his front. He noticed the ‘orange glow as a shell would hit a tree; there’d be a ball of fire . . . It was about that time [that I decided] I didn’t care how crowded it was inside the carrier, I was getting inside! I couldn’t see anything anyway; I had spots in front of my eyes.’46
As the carriers forced their way through, those positioned in the open hatches could see, even through the pouring rain, troops moving across their path about 100 metres in front. These troops, representing a company at least, wore webbing, were dressed in army greens with cloth hats, and were in an open arrowhead formation, seemingly oblivious to the APCs. The rain and sound of battle were ‘hiding’ the APCs’ advance. Were these members of D Company? Roberts, sitting up on his wooden plank completely exposed above the command hatch, recalled that the ground seemed to ‘stand up . . . across our entire front as [we saw] this great group of infantry moving from east to west in pretty determined fashion and in formation’.47 Sergeant Jim Myles of 1 Platoon saw this large force of Viet Cong as they moved across his front at a very rapid rate. He was sure that they didn’t know the APCs were there due to the torrential downpour and the artillery and small-arms fire that was occurring to their front and side.48
Lieutenant Peter Dinham, commanding 2 Platoon (A Company), was in the right-hand carrier and looking through an open hatch. He recalled that these troops were not aware of their presence until ‘we were right in amongst them, and these people suddenly stood up, in the thick scrub and rubber immediately in front. We had come out of the rain surprising them as much as us. There we were on top of them.’49 Dinham saw that some had camouflage nets on their hats, while others were wearing pith helmets. Recognising them for who they were, he shouted to the carrier commander of 32B, Corporal Richard Gross, to open fire. That was enough for the young corporal, who commenced firing within seconds. The rest of the troop joined fire.50 Roberts remembered hearing via the radio from the APC on his left, commanded by Gross, ‘It’s the enemy!’ and with that everyone opening with machine-gun fire against the Viet Cong.51 Seconds before, Armstrong, in another carrier, had ordered his machine gunner, Private Leo Kucks, to open fire, but Kucks had replied that they might be Australians. Armstrong turned to the APC commander who was busy watching the troops in front through his field glasses, but before Armstrong could say anything the commander dropped his glasses, grabbed the .50-calibre machine gun and opened fire.52
25
‘They’re forming up to hit us from behind!’
1840–1900 hours
The commander’s log for 105 Battery, smudged with the red mud of Nui Dat, states at 1840 ‘Q/FIRE 10 SEC’, underlined multiple times in red ink.1
Corporal Tommy Douglas was sitting on top of the APC carrying the battalion from 6 RAR headquarters, heading for the stream crossing. They had ‘no trouble following the tracks in the mud and were pleased to see another APC (33B) had waited for us. But the swollen stream was a bit daunting . . . At least now we had three APCs to fight our way through any enemy ambush we might encounter on the way.’2
Lieutenant Ian Savage’s driver, Trooper Geoff Newman, hit the stream at full speed and didn’t even bother to lower the board at the front, which helped prevent water going into the open hatch. Savage recalled: ‘My driver did a marvellous job, crossed it no problem, made it flat strap.’3 The momentum of the fast-moving carrier pushed it through the water and they made it onto the other side seemingly in one movement. The other APC crossed in similar fashion and joined up with Savage and the reserve carrier left behind by Lieutenant Roberts. All three took off in pursuit of the relief force.
Up ahead, the fire from Roberts’ 3 Troop tore into the ranks of the unsuspecting elements of the heavy-weapons company of D445 VC Battalion, who instinctively turned to meet the immediate threat and put down a heavy barrage of fire into the approaching carriers. Sergeant John O’Reilly and the APCs from 2 Troop were covering the left flank of their advance and for the first few seconds O’Reilly wasn’t sure whether the men from A Company had dismounted from some of the carriers, as there was a whole group of them wearing greens and webbing like the Australians.4 However, Sergeant Jim Myles of 1 Platoon, who was in one of O’Reilly’s carriers, saw to his horror among them a Viet Cong 57mm recoilless-rifle crew dragging their weapon. One hit from this gun would completely obliterate an APC. One of the Viet Cong turned back and saw the carriers. Myles saw them stop, but he wasn’t sure whether they stopped to try to fire the weapon or were attempting to escape the onrushing vehicles. Within seconds, another APC put on a great burst of speed and ran straight over the top of the gun and its crew.5
To the right, Lieutenant Peter Dinham and Sergeant Frank Alcorta were riding exposed on top of Corporal Richard Gross’s carrier when the enemy swarmed around the APCs, targeting them with concentrated small-arms fire. The sergeant immediately jumped off the carrier while his officer dropped into its open top hatch. Dinham immediately ordered Gross to stop the carrier and open the rear hatch – they were not going to leave Alcorta out there. Within seconds, men were pouring out to support their stranded sergeant. Alcorta was seen emptying his magazine into the enemy all around. When he fired the tracer round, indicating he had only one round left, it exploded into the face of a Vietnamese soldier and the ‘whole thing disappeared in a mess of blood and flesh’. Alcorta was thankful that his machine gunner, Private Ron Brett, had jumped off the carrier firing his weapon; he recalled that the private ‘saved my life, because he gave me a chance to bring a fresh magazine from the pouch’.6 (In a later action as part of Operation Bribie in February 1967, Alcorta repaid his debt to Brett, whose legs had been shattered by Viet Cong m
achine-gun fire. Alcorta ran forward under a stream of machine-gun fire, picked up the wounded private and carried him to safety. He was recommended for the Military Medal, but Lieutenant Colonel Townsend rejected his nomination, allegedly stating, ‘He already has the MiD’ (Mentioned in Dispatches).7
Other APCs carrying 2 Platoon also stopped, and these men were soon joined by their officer, who quickly ordered them into extended line formation, firing as they advanced towards the enemy troops. Private Laurie Bodey, one of the replacements who had just that day joined A Company, was among these men and recalled:
There was much yelling as we all tried to get out. At first the APC driver would not lower the back ramp, but some well-chosen words from Corporal Louie Stephens soon persuaded him to change his mind. Down came the ramp and out we went, [with me] keen to do my new job as number two on the machine gun. The rain immediately pelted in my face. It was gloomy and smoky. Red and green tracer trails crisscrossed the scene . . . All my senses were in overdrive.8
The Battle of Long Tan Page 24
