For those amongst you who have caught my previous contributions, to Vampire, you could well be excused for thinking that my input to the war effort was a tad on the self-interest side.

Speaking of booze, this was in plentiful supply and the sly grog shop that operated from under my bed (see a previous issue) was doing quite nicely, so there was really very little for me to complain about. The key to coping with the Army was not to standing out, blend in so to speak, and apart from the little incident with the dog tags (also refer previous issue) I though I was doing quite nicely in this regard. I was, of course, soon to be proven wrong.

Rule number one in the Army was, and still I hear, ‘never, never, never’ volunteer for anything, so with that in mind you can imagine my dismay when told one afternoon to pack my gear and get down to the helipad for immediate transfer to a unit at Nui Dat.  Apparently some infantry medic had gone home on compassionate grounds and I was to replace him. Hang on a minute, what about somebody else? There were far better qualified people, than I, for this sort of job. But no, apparently I had volunteered! I suspect that the Unit God (RSM for those who did not see my previous article) may have been involved, his way of getting back at me for the dog tag incident?

Posted to 1A.R.U. (1^st Australian Reinforcement Unit)

So it was that sunny afternoon, in April, I was torn from the comforts of 1AFH and dumped in the dustbowl of Nui Dat. Not an air-conditioned building in site only tents scattered throughout what had been a banana plantation. The place seemed somewhat deserted and the appearance of the tents devoid of any personal touches seemed to confirm that this place was best used as temporary stopover. I was to find out later that the unit spent most of its time out in the bush on patrols, only returning for a couple of days at a time.

As was typical of the Army nobody really seemed to know exactly why I had been sent there, and for that matter, they seemed to care even less. Once again “just fit in, don’t ask too many questions” and you will be left alone. I think it was at least a week before somebody finally realised that I wasn’t doing very much and started to utilise my services.

Then, I awoke one morning to find the place awash with people, evidently the bulk of the unit had returned at first light and I was to spend the morning treating all manner of minor ailments, scratches, rashes and assorted bites.

I was to spend nearly three months with the unit, during which time I became just another soldier (not that I was anything but) who was not only expected to carry the medical kit but also do his share of the duty as well, whether this meant a one night in the bush, on patrol, or a week. I came to understand the stress that the troops in the field had to live with on a day to day basis.

The heat and the not to infrequent rain meant by nightfall you just wanted to lay down, even if it was just for a little while, often forgoing meals in favour of sleep. Patrols during the day and ambushes at night, when every sound made your heart beat so loud that you were sure that it could be heard a mile away.

I returned to Vung Tau in July, where I completed my tour. Somehow the things once important to me now seemed less so. Whether I had been shaken out of my indifference or maybe I had matured a little, I don’t really know, I will leave to others to judge.

What I do know is this – the time spent in Vietnam was to shape my opinions and attitudes that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. That is not to say that all things are bad, I have however developed a cautious cynicism.

We could be accused, by some, of making light of events long since past but this is the way I see many of my fellow veterans coping today. You laugh in the hope that others will not see you falter when some memory brings an unexplained lump to your throat or makes you feel a little sad, for a moment.

Editor’s Note: I am certain those serving in our armed forces today are grateful for all the little handy hints on surviving life in the military. I think though the irreverence in the face of the adversity is typical of the Aussie Digger and is a way of coping when confronted with the horrors of war and the ongoing memories. You are not alone!