Not far from this bunker system the men from C Company, on their renewed sweep to the east, came across a small enemy camp – likely the field hospital that had been evacuated the night before – with a few huts and 14 fresh graves. Defending this field hospital were a number of weapons pits, topped with corrugated iron that had been covered in earth. McFarlane could see that his men ‘were dead tired and I worried once again, as I did constantly, that a moment’s inattention might bring disaster to one or more of them. My silent prayers were answered when the rear-link radio operator told me that we were to move to a rendezvous for return to Nui Dat by air . . . C Company’s brush with the Battle of Long Tan had ended.’22
Meanwhile, an observation helicopter had spotted scattered groups of what appeared to be civilians, some with oxcarts and many carrying bundles, bags and baskets suspected to contain medical supplies, travelling along the road between Long Phuoc and Long Tan. The largest group consisted of around 40 Vietnamese, mostly women. An APC troop with infantry was sent out to investigate, and 24 males of military age were apprehended and held for questioning.23
By midday, Lieutenant Colonel Townsend’s force of infantry and APCs had completed their searches, and just after 3 p.m. they had concentrated on the edge of the Long Tan rubber plantation, 500 metres north-east of Long Tan village. From there the force withdrew to the Task Force base at Nui Dat, with the infantry in the carriers and others getting a ride via helicopter. Operation Smithfield resulted in the discovery of more graves, food and ammunition caches, trails and small camps, but there was no further contact with the enemy. This operation was followed by US corps-level Operation Toledo (supported by Australian troops), which swept the area but found nothing of significance.24
With all of Brigadier Jackson’s force now back in base, Operation Smithfield was declared ended at 5 p.m. on 21 August 1966. The total tally of enemy dead left on the battlefield was listed as 245, with three captured. The Australians suffered 17 killed in action, one dying from wounds, and 24 wounded; of these, D Company suffered 17 killed and 19 wounded – around one-third of its total strength. Of the 17 killed in action, 11 were national servicemen.25
A few days after the battle, Major Smith made a special visit to RAAF No. 9 Squadron to personally thank the crews of the two helicopters – A2-1020, commanded by Flight Lieutenant Frank Riley, and A2-1022, captained by Flight Lieutenant Cliff Dohle. These men and their crews had supplied the ammunition drops to his men that were so crucial in helping D Company push back the enemy human waves against their final positions in the plantation on 18 August. In a later ceremony at Nui Dat, 6 RAR presented to the squadron one of the AK-47 assault rifles captured during the battle.26
Lieutenant Adrian Roberts recalled with pride how, not long afterwards, Major Smith made him and his men honorary members of Delta Company’s mess.27 B Company also had an honorary member in their mess back at Nui Dat. During the burial detail they had come across a decapitated enemy head and took it back to the Task Force base with them. After the ants had picked it clean, they hung it above the door to their ‘boozer’, which soon became known as ‘The Skull Cave’.28
As the veterans from D Company, 6 RAR arrived back at Nui Dat in the late morning they were in for ‘another whammy’, as recalled by Lieutenant David Sabben. The quartermaster staff had gone through the belongings of the dead and wounded who would not be returning to the company, and all of their kit had been ‘collected and put into the Q store. So these soldiers, who were still getting over the loss of their mates, came back to their tents and next to them was an empty bunk where their mate used to live. They had to face that all over again.’29
Indeed, Sabben had shared a tent with Lieutenant Gordon Sharp and remembered that ‘half the tent was now just an empty bed’. He sat and stared at it for some time, coming to grips with the fact that his friend was dead. He could not help but wonder whether someday soon someone would be sitting there looking at Sabben’s own empty bed in the same way.30 Parr recalled that when he returned to Nui Dat and entered his tent ‘all of Paul Large’s gear had gone’.31
Corporal Kevin Miller also distinctly remembers returning to Nui Dat and realising that ‘all of our friends we had shared our tents [with were gone] . . . half the company area was empty. The tents were bare because of the killed and wounded. They weren’t there – we’d lost half the company.’32 Sergeant Neil Rankin, who had originally commanded 11 Platoon, D Company before being transferred to 10 Platoon, stood among the empty tents of his old platoon at Nui Dat and burst into tears.33
33
‘OK, fellows, see you later’
In Australia the news of the battle hit radios, newspapers and television screens on 19 August, with the casualty figures being released before any of the families had been informed whether their loved ones were safe or had been wounded or killed. They spent an anxious night trying to ascertain what had happened – the army switchboards were immediately jammed by calls from anxious relatives and friends. Private Terry Burstall’s mother told him later that ‘she was in a terrible state for a while, especially since she had gone through the ordeal once before when her father had been wounded and later died’ in World War II.1
Suzanne Jewry was the wife of Lance Corporal Jack Jewry, the 21-year-old apprentice electrician from St Marys in NSW. The couple had married three weeks before he left for Vietnam, and while serving there, Jack had been informed that he was going to be a dad. Jack was with 6 Section, 11 Platoon and now lay dead. On being informed of his death, Suzanne miscarried the next day. Jack’s family received letters from him just hours after they were told he had been killed in action.2 His mate, 21-year-old Private Glenn ‘Ken’ Drabble, a window-blind installer from Zillmere in Brisbane, died with Jack close by. He had written just before the battle to his girlfriend, Beverley Pilkington, asking her to make arrangements for their wedding on his return from his tour. She recalled: ‘I should have been so happy, but now this is the saddest day of my life.’3
Beryl Gant, the mother of Kenny Gant, the machine gunner of 11 Platoon who had been killed in action, was sitting by a window listening to the radio and reading a book when she noticed a green army car coming down the road. She had not yet been informed that her son was dead.
I didn’t put much to it, you know. I thought, ‘Oh no, he’s only been away a little while.’ But the next thing a knock come to the door and my husband went out and it was one of the army men and the army chaplain . . . I went out, and straightaway I knew that something was wrong and they told me Kenny had been killed. I couldn’t get it into my head though. I couldn’t believe it. I just said, ‘No.’ I said, ‘It can’t be him!’ and we didn’t get the news until the Saturday morning. He was killed on the Thursday.4
It would be another three weeks before the families would get to bury their sons, brothers and fathers.
Corporal John Robbins’ first memory after leaving the operating theatre was a Vietnamese individual ‘giving me a doll – he gave all the wounded a doll . . . I may have even been in recovery [room]. I was really out of it when this bloke was giving it to me. I really didn’t want to talk but he gave us one.’ Robbins recalled that after he ‘recovered’ from his surgery he saw seeing the wounded of the battle lying in bunks around him early the next morning – 19 August.5 Soon they were all trying to find out from each other what had happened to them: ‘How did so-and-so get on? You don’t know about his section or whatever – who did you lose? And he doesn’t necessarily know so there is a lot of anxiety about who made it and who didn’t. What’s happened since? Did they come back the next morning? You just don’t know. Well, I knew that I was going home. And that was a relief.’6
Early that morning, Jean Debelle, the Australian Red Cross worker, was finally able to make her way to US 36 Evac and the wounded Australians. ‘As I looked at the rows of casualties in the unnatural quiet,’ she recalled, ‘the stunned and wounded eyes, as much as the damaged bodies, identified those who had survived the battle
in the rubber plantation. There were no friendly smiles, yet I heard no moans or crying. I was mentally prepared for tears from the men. I saw none. Some men avoided meeting my eyes, perhaps scared to reveal their emotions. A soldier might give way to grief in front of his mates, but not in front of an outsider.’7 She moved from bed to bed, unsure of what to say, and gave each man a gentle touch on the arm, asking if there was anything she could do: ‘Would you like me to send a message home? What can I do to help you?’8
Robbins and the others weren’t informed of those who had been killed until the next day – 20 August. It was also then that he learnt that Private Jim Richmond had been found alive on the battlefield. This was a great relief to him, as he now knew he was not the sole survivor of his section; up until then that had been his belief. Even so, the shock of hearing of the casualties was horrendous and quite a few in the hospital broke up.9 Private Dennis Spencer recalled that the day after the battle they didn’t know who had been killed or wounded. However, the day after that they received a copy of the Brisbane Courier-Mail, which had photographs of all the men who had been killed, including ‘Dougie Salveron, Kenny Gant, Ken Drabble, Jimmy Houston and all the other guys; I think that really hit home then. There was a lot of quiet sobbing going on in the ward and I remember looking across at John Robbins. John was really taking it hard. He was sitting on the side of his bed with tears streaming down his face, and it was just hitting home to everybody what had happened.’10
Meanwhile, Col Joye and Patricia Amphlett (Little Pattie) visited the wounded at the hospital. Both were a little apprehensive about their ability to keep it together in front of the men. Amphlett recalled: ‘We were feeling pretty teary and sad and propping each other up. Eventually the door opened and we went inside and, of course, we didn’t cry. But much later I did. Just seeing the many wounded and young faces, you know. They all looked like my brother. They all looked so young . . . And they were just baby-faced, brave, terrific Australians. [It was] really something that day, for me. I suppose if there’s a turning point – we all have turning points in our lives, you realise later on where you grew up, and I grew up that day. I really did. Big time.’11 Debelle was there and recalled Joye spending considerable time talking to each wounded man and that the visit ‘could not have come at a better time. The happy diversion did much for everyone’s morale.’12
A few days later, the rest of the men of D Company were on their way to Vung Tau, heading for the hospital to see their wounded mates. Robbins recalled that ‘they came and saw all of us in hospital and you could see the look on their faces, because we’d been through a hell of a bloody turn-out really, and you could see that they knew we were going home and they weren’t. I guess we were happier than they were.’13 He felt some guilt as his mates would be stuck in South Vietnam for another nine months – that’s if they weren’t killed or wounded first.14 Private Noel Grimes recalled: ‘We’d only been there three months when it happened and it was a 12-month stint, and that was our biggest worry. We’d only been here three months and we have to survive another nine.’15
The veterans of Long Tan spent a few days trying to unwind at Vung Tau, which was used as a rest centre for Allied units – and allegedly by the Viet Cong. The men from D Company found that they had little in common with those around them and clung together in small groups, alone in the crowded ‘resort’ area. Some relived the battle, the many near-misses and the loss of friends; others remained silent, likely clutching another can of cold beer. Private Alan Parr recalled he ‘got as pissed as a parrot and punched a mate, Max Cameron, in a bar. To this day I don’t know why.’16 Parr and another of his mates Private Neil Bextram thought that two days wasn’t enough, so they ‘took an extra day and copped an AWOL charge’ on their return to Nui Dat, resulting in three weeks’ loss of pay and three weeks’ corporal punishment, consisting of no free time when they returned from patrol or ambushes; the Task Force always needed plenty of holes to be dug and backfilled.17
One incident involving the wounded veterans of D Company 6 RAR was soon doing the rounds, not only at Vung Tau but also back at the Task Force base – as recalled by Sergeant Bob Buick:
The story goes that they had left the hospital in pyjamas and slippers to get on the grog, all bandaged, some on crutches, one in a wheelchair and others pushing a trolley with drip bottles attached. A truck driver, an American, crashed his truck as he looked in amazement at this band of crazy Aussies going on the piss. Some were refused entry to the club because they had no shirts or tops. It did not take long before their mates returned with jackets and they all had a good time. When the doctors and nurses got wind of it there was all hell to pay but no retribution. This was the first time the Yank hospital, the 36th Medical Evacuation Hospital, had had so many Aussie patients at one time. Our Delta Company blokes set the tone for future patients at the 36th Medevac Hospital.18
Jean Debelle didn’t hear about the booze-up until the next day; she recalled that ‘the hubbub had subsided, but the hospital staff was still laughing’.19 One American nurse, Polly Parrott, later admitted: ‘We tolerated shenanigans from the Aussies that none of our men ever would be allowed to get away with. That “escape” by rule breaking, living by their own code, was one of the things that made the Aussies so attractive to us.’20
The South Vietnamese government recognised that the battle was a major victory over the Viet Cong and planned to honour the Australians of D Company, 6 RAR. The commander of the South Vietnam Armed Forces and chief of state, General Nguyen Van Thieu, arrived at Nui Dat to award them the South Vietnam Cross of Gallantry, but with the ceremony about to begin, an urgent message arrived from some pen-pusher’s desk in Canberra that foreign awards were not to be recognised because they did not have Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth’s approval – only gifts could be presented. The same applied to unit citations. Although they accepted the decree from Canberra, the South Vietnamese government persisted. The ceremony was put on hold for an hour while General Nguyen’s staff went in search of something to present. In the end the president presented to the Australian officers lacquered wooden cigar boxes; the NCOs were presented with cigarette boxes and the privates received dolls in Vietnamese national dress.21
The US would also recognise the brave actions performed by the men of Major Smith’s company. A United States Presidential Unit Citation – the second-highest military award for gallantry that can be awarded – was presented to the men of D Company, 6 RAR. Many years later Smith recalled that it was truly embarrassing to think that the Americans and South Vietnamese rewarded them but the Australian government ‘put us down’.22
Indeed the Australian government and military authorities showed an appalling lack of respect for those who had fought at Long Tan. At the time a quota system was used in the allocation of military awards. New Zealand captain Maurice ‘Morrie’ Stanley was awarded the Order of the British Empire, but while Major Smith was recommended for the Distinguished Service Order (DSO), a superior ‘downgraded’ it to Military Cross. Company sergeant major Jack Kirby received the Distinguished Conduct Medal (DCM), as did Corporal John Carter of 3 Troop. Both Sergeant Bob Buick and Private Ron Eglinton received the Military Medal (MM). Smith had recommended Lieutenant David Sabben and Lieutenant Geoff Kendall for the Military Cross (MC), but unbelievably because the quota of MCs had been reached – awarded earlier to others for excellence in non-combat duties – these recommendations were denied and each received a Mentioned in Dispatches (MiD). Also to receive MiDs were Lieutenant Adrian Roberts of 3 Troop, Company Sergeant Major Jack Roughley, Corporal Phil Dobson, Corporal William Moore and Private William Akell – Smith had recommended that Akell and Moore receive the MM.
Smith recommended a number of others for awards, including the wounded Sergeant Paddy Todd, and privates Max Wales, Paul Large and Glenn Drabble, all killed. However, he was forced to withdraw his recommendations as on presenting his list to Lieutenant Colonel Townsend his CO stated: ‘You have far too many for the bat
talion quota. What if we have another big battle next month?’23 Again that bloody quota system! Other soldiers put forward by Smith for MiDs but struck off by others further up the line were Bill Roche, Geoff Peters, Ian Campbell, Barry Magnussen, Allen May, Noel Grimes, Neil Bextram and Gordon Sharp.24 At the same time, cooks and postal-service officers working in Vung Tau were being nominated and ‘awarded’ MiDs.25 Lieutenant Gordon Sharp – who had led his men from the front and died fighting with his platoon, refusing to withdraw as it would mean leaving his wounded behind – was recommended for an MiD but received nothing because at the time army regulations stated that those killed in action could be nominated only for a posthumous Victoria Cross or MiD (this is no longer the case). The most distinguished awards were allocated to the Task Force commander, Brigadier David Jackson, and commander of 6 RAR, Lieutenant Colonel Colin Townsend, who both received the DSO – apparently for showing up. This is the same award that was denied to Major Harry Smith, who gallantly led his company throughout the Battle of Long Tan.
In 2008 an Australian parliamentary ‘review’ of the awards provided to the Long Tan veterans was conducted. Major Smith’s award was deservedly upgraded to Australia’s Star of Gallantry (previously the DSO) – second only to the Victoria Cross – while lieutenants Kendall and Sabben had their original recommendations for the MC upheld and were awarded the Medal of Gallantry, its present-day equivalent. In 2009 another inquiry was held that concluded that no other awards or upgrades should be considered, the sole exception being Flight Lieutenant Cliff Dohle, who was deservedly awarded the Distinguished Service Medal.26 However, there has still been no justice for Lieutenant Gordon Sharp and many others of D Company. The awards ‘system’ applied by the Australian government and military to the veterans of Long Tan then and today remains nothing short of disgraceful. Harry Smith continues to fight for the deserved official recognition of his men of D Company, 6 RAR.
The Battle of Long Tan Page 33
