Vietnam Conscript

Vietnam Conscript

By

Merv J Ryan

Revised Second Edition

Copyright 2014 Merv J Ryan

Smashwords Edition

All Rights reserved

The print First Edition of this book is available in most Australian libraries and in the Vietnam War Collection at Connelly Library, La Salle University, USA.

Dedicated with love to

my wife Nancy

our daughter Vanessa

And in loving memory of

our son Doug who died aged 19

Contents

CHAPTER 01 - Trust Me

CHAPTER 02 - You Will Jump

CHAPTER 03 - Field Craft

CHAPTER 04 - Trained To Kill

CHAPTER 05 - You Like Clean Girl?

CHAPTER 06 - Beyond The Wire

CHAPTER 07 - Infantry Battalion

CHAPTER 08 - Vung Tau

CHAPTER 09 - Pte. Russell

CHAPTER 10 - You Buy Me Drink?

CHAPTER 11 - Sandy

CHAPTER 12 - Soldiers Of Stone

CHAPTER 13 - Strangers

CHAPTER 14 - Trouble

CHAPTER 15 - Drifter

CHAPTER 16 - A Decade Too Late

CHAPTER 17 - Red Sunset

Foreword

The author was called-up and sent to the Vietnam war as an infantry rifleman and has drawn on his experience and knowledge from his personal diary to present a fictional story of one woman and two young men, one militant and aggressive, the other a pacifist, who are conscripted and sent to fight in the jungle. A finely written account of Australian army life on active service and the devastating effect this war had on many who took part in it. The last section of the book, dealing with post-war rehabilitation, will have special meaning for the families of such men. The book was on the suggested reading list at Canberra’s Defence Force Academy and used by counselling professionals and popular with secondary students for national service (conscription) projects.

A book that every Australian family should read. (Fassifern Guardian)

A novel based on memories so poignant and recalled so well that even a cynical reader can be moved to tears. (Gold Coast Bulletin)

Compelling ... readers of ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT or viewers of Oliver Stone's BORN ON THE FOURTH OF JULY will recognise the basic shape ... Ryan's novel is a biography of THE Australian Vietnam veteran ... much to be commended. (Canberra Times)

Never has a book moved me so much ... thank you for enlightening me. (Mrs A.P., Vic)

CHAPTER 1

"Nineteen sixty-nine. This is our big year, Sandy."

Michael Reed eased his old Holden through Brisbane's afternoon traffic. Sandra laid her head on her husband's bony shoulder; her natural blond hair fell down the front of his electrician's overalls. Sandra said, With your trade ticket arriving any day, plus my wage from the factory, we'll be in our home in no time. She looked up into Michael's brown eyes. And I couldn't have dreamed that marriage could be so ... beautiful. No matter where we live, our own home or not. We've got each other.

Michael quickly kissed Sandra and squeezed her hand. You sure swept me away, he laughed as they drove towards their newly-rented flat on the city south side. Who would have thought I'd be married now, to the most pretty girl ...

Oh - boy. Sandra blushed and slapped his leg.

... and the most caring girl in the world. Michael changed gears to slow the Holden for traffic. He glowed from the touch of Sandra's fingers which she combed through his long brown hair. She stroked the boyish lines of his face and toyed with his copper peace emblem hanging from his neck chain. He added with a grin, And there I was, all set to become a swinging bachelor. Once I had my trade papers, it was going to be freedom - to travel the world.

I wasn't going to get tied down either - till you came along!

Now we'll take on the world together. He gave Sandra a cheeky grin. Sandra snuggled deeper into her husband's side. Chilly winds outside buffeted the old sedan as they cruised. She gave Michael a squeeze of excitement and kissed his cheek. A red light stopped the traffic flow. Michael shaped his fist like a microphone and called, Now hear this! This is Downtown Radio in living stereo. Mike Reed is in love with the world's most beautiful person ... and her name is Sandy. Too bad for any hungry bachelor out there looking for a bride. You'll have to settle for second best, now. So there!

Sandra slapped him on the arm. You're crazy. People are watching us ...

That's OK. They’re only jealous. The traffic began moving again; Sandra hid her face against Michael's overalls as she laughed. He felt her settle back into his shoulder and they drove in silence towards the flat in the next suburb.

I just hope the army doesn't take you from me, Sandra said, gazing through the windscreen at the road. I would die.

Michael squeezed her small hand. They won't take me. Then he saw the look on her face. I can assure you, Sandy. Just trust me. Anyway, I'd be no good as a soldier. He rubbed his peace emblem as if in defiance and grinned at the thought of himself in an army uniform.

We're too much a part of each other now Mike. But how are you so sure they won't?

He looked into her light eyes which were filled with doubts. There's no way they would. Not a twenty-two-year-older. They had their chance when I was twenty. My number actually came up; I had the medical and all. But they let me go because I was doing a trade. They won't take me now. He slowed the car for the last corner before their flat.

I hope you're right, Sandra said quietly.

I would've failed the medical anyhow. I told them about my bad nerves, since a kid. He laughed, The last person in the country you'd want to give a rifle to. Or any military gear.

I wish I could be as sure as you, Mike. Sandra clung to his arm and still appeared uncertain.

Well, if that doesn't convince you, this will. I was talking to a workmate about call-up. His brother was rejected because he was married. We spoke about this only today. Married guys are out. So how's that for a pleasant surprise? Before Sandra had time to answer, Michael pecked her on the lips. You're stuck with me - Mrs Sandy Reed. Every single day ...

Sandra let out a sigh of relief. I'm sure glad to hear that.

I love you, Sandy. He squeezed her leg as he idled the Holden along the driveway and under their flat. He turned off the engine, then laughed, Anyway, you know my feelings about warfare and violence. Imagine - an army made up of pacifists! Instead of fighting, we'd be talking to the other side about peace. Sandra laughed at the idea as they stepped from the car.

Maybe today, I'll get my trade ticket, Michael called over his shoulder as he walked back up the driveway to the letterbox. Sandra glided up the steps and unlocked their door. He picked up a business envelope marked Electrical Workers' Board. Hurrying into the flat, slamming the door, he tore open the envelope. Sandy. This should be it! Where are we now ... Electrical Workers' Board ... Mr M Reed ... this is it! Look here, Sandy ... it says that I've passed. I'm a tradesman! He grabbed her in a crushing hug. Oh boy - after five never-ending years of study - you beauty!

Sandra's eyes glistened with happiness. She hugged and kissed Michael, then they laughed together. Congratulations Mike. I know how hard you worked for that ticket. I'm proud of you. Beneath a brightly-coloured psychedelic poster on their lounge wall, they held each other in a warm embrace.

Was there any other mail?

No Sandy.

Tossing back her long hair as she hugged Michael, Sandra whispered, It's turning out perfectly for us. I just know we're going to have a whole lifetime of loving together ...

Michael recalled his falling for her soon after first meeting and he knew his devotion was for a lifetime. He laughed aloud at their perfect world and said, I can promise you that. Michael's heart began to beat faster from Sandra's reaction to a caressing touch. He smiled into her twinkling eyes and whispered, Another late dinner?

You read my thoughts, cheeky ...

* * * * *

The following day after Michael finished work, he drove to the factory to pick up Sandra. Parked in a laneway alongside her building, he tapped to a 'Stones tune which beat from a transistor radio hanging on the dash. He thought; Fridays are great. We'll probably just take it easy this weekend, it's been a tiring week for both of us. He laughed to himself at their dragging themselves through each workday after nights with too little sleep - nights of joining together into a harmony of bodies and minds. His thoughts roamed; I'm the luckiest person around to belong to Sandy. As long as I live, I am never going to make Sandy unhappy, he vowed.

A sudden blast from the factory horn jarred him from his thoughts. Within moments, workers eager for weekend freedom poured from the factory's doorways. His heart raced as Sandra appeared amongst her chatting group which approached the Holden. Hi sexy! he called towards the clique, yet grinning at Sandra.

Hi Romeo, responded one of Sandra's friends as the group neared the opened passenger door. Laughing, she said, What are you doing to our Sandy - she's in a daydream most of the day?

Wait till you're married - you'll find out, Michael smiled, trying not to blush.

Sandra slipped past her girlfriends and onto the bench seat next to Michael. Hello lover, she said. He returned her special kiss, then reached over and closed her door.

Cut that out, you two! Your honeymoon's over now, after three months.

Sandra's friends giggled and moved away down the laneway. Michael laughed as he started the engine. Our honeymoon's never going to be over, he whispered. He idled the car down the lane and waited for a gap in the traffic. Soon, they were cruising along in the mainstream.

How did your first day as a fully fledged tradesman go, Mike?

Terrific. At last the older tradesmen treat me as one of their own. Even the foreman seems different. It's great. Then he grinned, I can look down my nose at the apprentices, now.

You're not like that, Sandra said. I can't imagine you looking down your nose at anybody.

Michael smiled. You're probably right. Beneath this suntanned surface of Aussie stamina, cleverly hidden by this skinny body - lies just a tender-hearted softie.

Sandra giggled. You can be real tough when you want to ...She hung an arm off his shoulder. But I've gotten through to the warm-hearted person inside ...

I just love the methods you used ...

You wouldn't harm a kitten, she challenged with a capturing look then she hugged Michael and leaned against his shoulder. They continued motoring in the congested Friday traffic. You're such a softie, you probably married me just out of sympathy. Poor little orphan girl - alone in the big world. Along comes the knight on his white charger - or at least - in his old green FJ ...

Michael scoffed and looked into her eyes. If I proposed to you just out of sympathy, then how do you explain this: you concealed about you being an orphan since eight-years old, until after I proposed. He squeezed her hand. Answer that one - if you can.

Well, oh ...

Ah har. Gotcha! He grinned as he guided the car into their driveway. Soon after, they walked from the carport towards their wooden stairway. Michael carried his work bag with one hand and a bulky toolbox in the other.

I'll check the mail, Mike.

OK. I'll start the coffee. He fumbled with their door keys, then moved inside. As he flicked a room-heater switch, he thought; It's great to be home. A whole weekend to ourselves. Tops.

He filled an electric jug and reached for its cotton-flex cord. Then he noticed Sandra standing in the doorway. She looked strange, almost statue-like. The normal glowing pink of her cheeks had been replaced by a ghostly pale.

Sandy! What's wrong? He dropped the jug cord and rushed across to her side. What happened? You look awful ...

Then Michael saw a brown envelope in her hand. Sandra mumbled, It's from the army ... At first, a cold shudder of terror passed through Michael, but then he noticed that the government envelope was still unopened.

Oh boy, you scared me too, for a second. He put his arm around Sandra and they moved inside. It'll just be the letter to confirm I'm in the clear. You know our bureaucrats, they like to put everything in writing. It looks like you really got a shock. He saw that she was still distressed and that she looked close to tears. Don't worry, Sandy. Hey - I thought you were as sure as I was. They don't want me. Really. Trust me.

He took the envelope from her hand which he noticed was shaking. You'll see. I can give you a ton of reasons. Nobody's going to split us up now – we’ve only been married three months. He ripped an end off the envelope. At least now we can make plans for our home and feel secure, with the whole idea of conscription put behind us.

Sandra dropped to the vinyl sofa. Oh Mike, I want to believe you - but I'm scared. I would die without you now. Hurry please.

Michael felt a grip of nervousness in his stomach as he slid the letter out, although he realised that was from Sandra's reaction more than any concern over his long-awaited clearance. He unfolded the letter and began to read. Suddenly, each word on every line ripped into him like a cold steel blade. His mouth fell open.

He gasped in terror, Oh. Hell ...!

He collapsed onto the sofa next to Sandra, who was now wide-eyed with fear. He felt his senses begin to spin and nausea gripped his stomach, bringing an acid taste to his mouth. Struggling for breath, he felt tears welling in his eyes as he gasped, Sandy! He dropped the letter to the floor at her feet, then ran to the bathroom and began vomiting into their toilet bowl.

Sandra gave a whimpering scream as she picked up the letter. With tears beginning to run from her eyes, she read aloud.

"You are hereby called up for national service with the Military Forces of the Commonwealth. You are required to present yourself to the Commanding Officer at Northern Command Personnel Depot, Ashgrove, on the ninth day of July 1969 at 8:30am. This notice should be presented together with your Certificate of Registration when you report for military service.

Dated this eleventh day of June 1969, Secretary, Department of Labour and National Service.

Mike! It has to be a mistake!

CHAPTER 2

July ninth was a cold morning in Brisbane. Young men in civilian clothing had assembled into a crowd near the administration wing at Ashgrove's personnel depot. Michael watched with a painful heart as Sandra's yellow cab whisked her away from view out of the army grounds. For moments afterwards, he stared blankly down the empty roadway, unable to believe she was gone. He could still see tears filling her eyes when they had hugged a cruel goodbye. He wiped his eyes and picked up his new imitation-leather bag from the dew-damp lawn. Slowly, he walked across to the rear of the crowd. Fighting to remain strong, he dropped his bag and stared numbly at the ground. Sandra's whisper still floated in his ears, I love you. He bit hard on his lower lip.

Well I'll be damned - so they got you too!

Michael looked up but was unable to speak.

Don't you remember me? Bob Russell - we worked together about three years ago ...

Michael cleared his throat. Yeah ... of course. How ... how have you been? He looked away, then down at the ground.

I was going great till nasho came along - the bastards. Bob Russell dropped his bag alongside. He was a stocky 23-year-older with lean, cold features. Was in the middle of a further studies course - they sure stuffed that up. What have you been up to?

Not much, Michael said unsteadily. He stared blankly at the deserted road where Sandra had disappeared.

After I left Brissie I worked in Gladstone. Good money up there. Deferred three years for studies but the bastards still grabbed me. Have you got yourself a girl?

Michael swallowed hard. I'm married.

Bob Russell frowned. An army staffer in immaculate khakis and spit-polished boots appeared on the steps of Administration Wing. He called, Alright, you lot. Listen in! Move over here for your roll call.

As Bob Russell picked up his bag and moved with Michael into the crowd, he murmured, Married! He stared at Michael and said, You stupid poor bastard.

The orderly sergeant called the roll in a crisp voice, before an officer addressed the crowd. The captain briefly detailed the plans for that day: army buses would transport them to Brisbane's Eagle Farm airport, where they would board a commercial flight to Williamtown military airbase near Newcastle in New South Wales. Then they would be bussed to the Third Training Battalion at Singleton army base.

Michael tried to return Bob's conversation during their flight to Williamtown, but his spirits were so low without Sandra that the efforts were mostly in vain. Bob talked about their days of working together and of his job at the Gladstone Refinery. At times, Michael could almost convince himself that he was not called-up, as he tried to absorb the atmosphere of this crowd of noisy civilians on board a TAA commercial flight. But upon landing at cold Williamtown, his illusion was shattered as their silver-and-white Viscount Electra stood starkly out of place on the noisy tarmac amongst dark greens and greys of Mirage fighters and Canberra bombers.

More than an hour passed as they waited for sighting of the army buses. Michael watched in awe as four Mirages taxied out in single file, roared, lifted their noses towards the clouds and disappeared within seconds with an echoing thunder. He shivered in the cold wind. Following a yell from someone in the group, he turned around to see a convoy of olive-green Bedfords approaching. The leading bus pulled to a halt. Several army staff in winter greens stepped out. They looked with obvious displeasure at the untidy disarray of conscripts who started shuffling towards them.

A large sergeant bellowed, You slovenly bunch of civilians - move your fucking arses and get on board - move it!

Michael moved alongside Bob with the crowd and finally scrambled aboard the fourth vehicle. Other army staff abused the conscripts as they jostled aboard the buses.

Move it, you bastards - we're running late, a sergeant yelled as Michael pushed past him at the bus door. Michael noticed a strong smell of beer from the sergeant.

Bob dropped into a seat alongside and said, Friendly mongrels, aren't they? As if it's our fault their stupid buses aren't on time.

Huh. I can guess why they're late.

Why, Mike?

They've been to a pub.

Ah. One drink too many. Now they're taking it out on us. Oh well, they shouldn't all be this unfriendly at Singleton. The doors slammed and the Bedfords headed noisily towards the training base and the afternoon winter sun.

* * * * *

By the time the slow convoy neared Singleton, the sun hung low in the sky. Michael still tried to convince himself this was not real - that he was only on a temporary excursion, to return to his cosy love nest with Sandra when this short bad dream was over. But at the back of his thoughts came a nagging realisation, as if a voice said: Sandra is gone. She is eight hundred kilometres away. Right now, Brisbane may as well be the opposite side of the world. You are going to do your two years. Two years.

Not this Christmas. Not next Christmas. But the Christmas after that. Then you will be back home with Sandra.

Oh ... hell!

* * * * *

Michael's spirits began to sink with the afternoon sun, the same sun which had shined on him and Sandra in the morning. Now the sunlight was dimming and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. Through his window, beyond the darkening fields, he could see Sandra's face and the pain in her eyes. He wiped an eye and clenched his jaw.

Bob said, Wonder how much further it is. It's getting freezing cold out there - look at that mist drifting in. It looks like it's going to be a cold bloody hole of a place!

Michael could not trust himself with conversation. He tried to erase the image of Sandra's face and sounds of her farewell whispers from his mind.

Singleton's outskirts appeared from amongst the low rolling hills. The buses turned left before the town onto a narrow bitumen road. Michael peered ahead, but could see only more grassy hills in the failing light. Further along, the bus topped a rise and to his right, he caught his first glimpse of the Third Training base. He shuddered at the sight of row upon row of drab identical huts, partly concealed in a cold mist. He murmured, It looks like ... a prison camp!

* * * * *

Get out and form up on the roadway. Move it - you stupid bunch! Form into lines. Straight lines - idiots!

Michael thought; We're not deaf, why do they have to yell? He jostled in the crowd and shivered from a freezing wind which was colder than he had ever experienced.

Move it, you slack bastards! Now shut-up and listen.

Another army staffer took over. Listen in very carefully. You are no longer civilians. You are now army property. He sneered sarcastically, You are our property. He paused to scowl at the bunch. Michael figured that he would probably say something about them being tough, but fair.

No more bloody civvy street. The soft life is all behind. We start with ten weeks of recruit training. Live through that, then you can look forward to ten weeks of corps training. The buses drove noisily away. You're mothers aren't here to wipe your snotty noses any more. We can promise you bastards that after we're done with you, you'll march out of here very different little men to the shit dragged in.

He looked up and down the untidy row. Looking at you pansy bunch, I'd say you're in for one hell of a time. From this very moment on, you will obey every single command given to you. Every command. You will not think about it - you will just do it! Any smart-arse who thinks he can beat our system is in for the rudest shock of his miserable life.

Sounds of the buses faded as they disappeared over a hill towards the transport depot near the main gates. Michael wished the buses would return to break him out of his bad dream and carry him home. Move over to the stores for your gear after your name is called. Keep your fucking mouths shut or we'll shove a boot in them.

Michael thought; Welcome to the Australian Army, gentlemen. We're pleased to meet you ... He thought of Sandra. Then he shook his head and silently cursed.

The remainder of Michael's day was barely a reality as he obediently stumbled in stupefied shock from one area of processing to another. As the hours passed, he realised hostility they received from all quarters was in fact part of a system, not just isolated incidents like he had earlier hoped. Having not felt loneliness as painful as this before, he tried not to think this was day one of two years. It was past midnight when he dropped into a cold bed on that freezing winter night. Shivering from temperatures he had never known, he tried to warm his spirits with thoughts of Sandra. In the darkness, his tears rolled onto a cold pillow.

Goodnight, Sandy. I love you.

* * * * *

Get out of bed! Get out of bed - you slack bastards. Move it ... move it ... move it!

Michael jerked upright. He thought; Where in the hell am I? What's happening? The lights had been switched on. He saw pitch darkness outside through his timber-framed window. Blinking under the sudden light, he focussed on his watch. 5:20am. Similar yelling from nearby huts added to the confusion in his sleep-stupid mind. Coldness hit him. Sandra's voice was gone; it must have been a dream. He picked up his bed linen from the floor where staff had thrown and walked on it. Instinctively, recruits grabbed for clothing in the freezing air.

Nobody told you bastards to dress! Put a sheet 'round you and get outside on the path. A sheet - not a blanket. Stupid bastards! Get outside!

In foggy atmosphere which was 5C below freezing, Michael felt frosty ice on concrete under his bare feet. His single sheet gave little protection from a freezing wind which passed between the huts.

Form up in straight lines. Move! Straight lines - idiots! Christ, we're in for a great time with this bright bunch. 10 Platoon. Atten...hun!

Some recruits floundered with the order, standing at ease instead, but went un-noticed in the dark.

Stand at ... ease! The icy wind cut through Michael's sheet and he shivered heavily. You will await further orders. The corporals and a sergeant started to walk away.

What the hell's going on? muttered Bob, who was next to Michael.

A red-haired corporal bellowed, Who was that? Like a hostile dog about to attack, he rushed up to Michael and demanded, Was that you, bastard?

No ... Corporal ...

The corporal moved to Bob. You, smart-arse?

I just asked what's happening ... Corporal, Bob defended.

With a polished drill boot, the corporal crunched Bob's toes onto the concrete. Bob groaned silently. You don't ask questions around here! You're on duties tonight for that, smart-arse. The corporal grinned with success and moved away to rejoin the other staff who walked along the path and into warmer ambience of a hut; the door slammed closed and the shivering recruits remained in the darkness in their rows on the path.

Ugly little turd. What a bunch of mongrels, my feet are frozen numb! Bob said.

Michael shivered, These bloody sheets aren't much help.

Twenty minutes passed. The numbness in Michael's feet had changed into sharp pain, rising as far as his knees. Above the eastern horizon, a golden glow was creeping into the winter sky. Michael stared at scattered clumps of trees, barely visible in profile under pre-dawn light against a backdrop of misty hills. He wondered how much they would get to know those hills in the next few months.

From down the line somebody said, I've gotta go to the loo, I'm bustin' for a shit. How long are they keepin' us here?

Five minutes later, the training staff emerged from a hut in the distance. They approached the recruits. A sergeant flicked his cigarette butt onto the frosty ground, before drawing in a large breath of the crisp air.

10 Platoon. His eyes roved up and down the lines. Atten...hun! Michael groaned at the pain from his frozen feet.

You creeps might be wondering why you're out here. As a chorus of low murmurings came from the lines, the sergeant said, Cast your eyes to the right. You'll notice a very unfamiliar glowing in the eastern sky ... Michael silently cursed him and his grinning corporals. Most of you pansy bastards have never seen it before. One of the corporals laughed as the sergeant said, It is called ... a sunrise! Audible moaning came from the lines. You bastards had better get used to it - because you're gunna' see a lot more of them! He paced along the path. Dismissed! Get back into your huts - lines inspection in five minutes. Move it, you slack bastards!

* * * * *

Sixteen recruits were housed in each hut, which was divided into four sections. Michael felt glad that all three of his section mates were not strangers, as he had drawn next spot to Bob Russell.

Dig the furniture, Michael said as he tried to dress quickly with numb fingers into stiff new greens. Grey painted steel locker, grey painted steel bed, grey painted steel personnel table, grey painted steel chair, grey painted steel tidy bin ... and brown floor mat.

The bastards couldn't figure out a way to make a grey painted steel floor mat, Bob grinned.

I bet they're working on it ...

A yell came from outside. 10 Platoon. Stand to attention by your beds!

Here we go, boys, Bob said. He finished the last hospital fold on his bed linen as shown late on the previous night by their hut corporal. A big sergeant with one of his corporals moved inside. Michael was first spot on the left.

Name?

Reed ... Sergeant. Michael Reed.

Only your surname, stupid. I'm not your bloody friend. Number?

Michael snapped out his number and the corporal ticked off a name in the platoon roll. The sergeant scowled at Michael.

Can't you fucking stand straight?

Yes ... Sergeant.

Then pull your shoulders back and stick your chest out - half you bastards look like you've got no backbones! Michael obeyed the instruction.

The sergeant frowned. I'll be watching you on the parade ground, Reed. And what's this ...? He bent over and tugged on Michael's trousers.

Ah ... they're too big, Sergeant.

Get the next size down then, you stupid bastard!

I tried that, Sergeant. They were too short. It seems I'm in-between two sizes ... Sergeant.

The big man turned to the corporal. Do you hear that, Corporal. A misfit. He turned back to Michael. We don't like misfits here, Reed. Get them fixed down at the canteen at your own expense.

Yes ... Sergeant.

Give Reed extra duties for tonight. He thinks he's too good for our uniform.

They turned away. The sergeant said, Here's our smart-arsed friend. Name?

Russell ... Sergeant!

You've already got extra duties for tonight?

Yes ... Sergeant.

The sergeant ripped the