Two Years in the Army – The Vietnam War Diaries of Private Cameron Anderson 1965-1967
12 March 1965
We were in the barn when Old Jimmy Willets from the property next door dropped by today with a copy of the local paper. He asked had we heard about the ballot for national service. Yesterdays paper had printed all the dates that were drawn out of the barrel and he knew I was born in early January. Lots of dates were pulled for January. Sure enough, there was 6th of January.
“Humph” said Dad.
“Bugger” said I.
“Shit” said young Tom and Dad clipped him over the ear and said “Language son.”
“You better come up Jimmy” said Dad. “Tom go and close the east paddock, you come with us”, he finished, pointing at me. I looked at Tom. I could tell he was sore he was missing out. The east paddock was a good ten minute walk each way. I shrugged, and he knew better than to say anything.
We trooped up to the verandah as Mum came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron
“Hello Jimmy, how’s tricks?” she said by way of a greeting.
“Good thanks Missus Anderson” he says doffing his battered akubra.
“Oh now Jimmy how many times have I told you, you can call me Vicki like everyone else?”
“About a thousand missus”. She smiled at his old world respect for another man’s wife and avoiding familiarity with the womenfolk.
“What brings you here?” she says before turning to see the look on Dads face, and mine.
“Colin what is it? Cameron you look pale dear, have you a fever?”
“Sit down love”, says Dad, “Cameron get two bottles of beer and glasses. 4.”
Mum sits down, hands wringing in her lap now, worried.
“Cameron’s birthday has been pulled in the lottery”
“Oh no” I returned to hear Mum say. “That so and so Menzies and his little man McMahon. Will he have to go?” she stood up, reached for me and gave me an awkward hug around my hands full of beer and glasses. “My baby, you’re so young.”
“He’d be the same age as when I joined up in 1939, and yes he will if he gets through Luv, we’ll have to wait and see.”
“But he’s so young” was all Mum could say again.
I poured 4 glasses. Dad raised his and said “Your health son”
We clinked and took a swig.
“Maybe he won’t get through” said Mum, and took another gulp.
“Maybe he won’t, maybe he will”, says Dad, “We’ll have to wait and see.”
13 March 1965
We herded all the cattle back into the east paddock today. Bloody long day in the saddle.
15 March 1965
Fencing in the north paddock today. A lot of it had to be tightened up or restrung after the storm a week back, when the tree fell on part of it. We chopped it up at the time but only got back to fix the fences today.
16 March 1965
Still fencing.
18 March 1965
I’ve been reading old local papers from cover to cover, trying to work out writing styles. I fancy I might like to be a journalist.
21 March 1965
We had to go into town today to get some supplies. I picked up a weekend Australian and a few other papers to continue my research into writing styles.
We saw the McDermotts in town and their daughter Jessica and young fella Marky. We stopped to talk to them for a while. Jessica sure has grown up and filled out since I saw her last!
22 March 1965
Seems like the Australian newspaper is real straight forward and factual but some of the others are a bit more easy to read. They use shorter sentences and small words. And a bit more sensational.
23 March 1965
Toms 18th . Dad put on a BBQ and the Aunts and Uncles came over. Dad said he could have a beer and then didn’t check on him after that. So he had a quite a few and was slurring his words by the end of the evening. So was Dad though, so he didn’t notice.
25 March 1965.
Had to fix the pump on the dam again today. Bloody thing is always breaking down. Thommo was a bit slow so I did most of the work while he just held stuff and passed me tools.
27 March 1965
I nearly tipped the tractor today. We were hauling hay up the hill in the west paddock and on the way up I must have hit a rock because it started to buck. Thommo jumped off the side real quick just before I managed to get it under control.
“Shit that was close” he said
“Too right” I said. I turned off the tractor and got out for a look. Sure enough there was a big bloody rock covered by grass and hard to see, and to make matters worse it was on the up side of a bloody rabbit hole. So the wheel had hit the hole, then the rock and nearly flipped me.
30 March 1965
Today I got the letter from the Department of Labour and National Service advising me I had been drawn for National Service and I had to get a medical from my local doctor and attend an interview.
Dad called for beer again that night, and even let young Tom have a glass.
1 April 1965
Dad called Doc Warner for an appointment for me and I’m booked for next Wednesday at 10am.
Young Peter tripped in the yard today and skinned his knee. Dad picked him up while he was bawling away.
“Come on there you poor bugger, let’s get you in to Mum and she’ll gets some iodine on that for you eh. You’ll be good as new,” and away they went. 10 minutes later he’s back chasing chickens in the yard with a yellow knee from the iodine.
7 April 1965
Doc Warner passed me for my medical today. We stayed in town for lunch.
9 April 1965
A journalist called Dave Donkin from the Northern Star turned up today with a photographer to get photos of the local boy joining the army. Me. He interviews me and asks me what it feels like to serve our nation. I say well I haven’t served them yet, but I’ll be proud to serve. Dad says he is mighty proud to have me serve as he did his duty in the big one.
They take some photos of me, then some with Dad, and some with the whole family.
I got talking to Dave after the interview about what it is like to be a reporter because I have always liked reading and writing and telling stories, and have wondered about getting into journalism. He says it’s great. He gets to travel around and meet interesting people. He tells me the best thing to do is just keep writing and practicing and to see him when I come home and he might be able to sort something. I give him a big handshake and say thanks when he leaves.
10 April 1965
We drove into town today for supplies and to get the weekend paper and sure enough, there’s me on the front page looking like a clown I reckon, but Mum likes the photo.
As we walk the street picking up supplies everyone wants to talk to us. The old fellas doffing their hats and saying how lucky I am. The women tut tutting with Mum and looking my way. A few of the local girls are smiling and timidly saying hello which hasn’t happened before.
We stop to talk to the McDermotts and young Jessica can’t stop glancing at me and blushing. I take a good look at her, and she catches me and blushes even more. Last time we met a few weeks ago I noticed she had grown up and filled out but didn’t really have a good look. Now I did. I haven’t really seen her since school when she was a giggly, gangly, young thing. Now she is pretty and she has filled out. Boy has she filled out. I figure it out in my head and she must be 17 by now.
“Hi” I say.
“Hi” she says, cheeks going even more crimson.
“So you’re in the army” she says.
“I guess so, I have an interview but it seems like I’m in.”
“When do you go?” she asks me.
“Well the interview is 10 days or so away, then apparently there’s a security check and it can be up to a month after that.”
“I’m going to miss you” she says softly glancing quickly at her mother who doesn’t seem to have heard, and turns scarlet again.
Well well well I think to myself.
“Are you going to the May dance?” I ask, emboldened.
“I hope so. Mum says if my older cousin can go with me she’ll let me go. It’ s only 6 weeks away and I’m counting the days. You going?” she ask, nibbling at her lip.
“Yeah I am. Would you dance with me?” I ask now thinking I know the answer to that one.
She blushes again and says “Wouldn’t I”
“Well I’ll see you there then” I say and doff my hat as the mothers are winding up.
………………
21 June 1966
We are out on Operation Enoggera to clear this village of Long Phuoc, which of course we call Long Fuck. It was supposed to be cleared in April by the Yanks but there could be some locals still hanging around there and they’re probably VC.
Before we went out the Major ‘Chook’ Henley called in the officers for orders group. Lt Walters passes it on to the NCO’s who pass it on to us.
Turns out the Yanks and the South Viets got their ass whipped in this village we’re going to. The VC used the villagers as a shield and ambushed the Yanks, killing 19 of them and wounding about 90. They only got 18 confirmed dead VC. That was a sobering thought, the Yanks with all their equipment and firepower getting their ass kicked.
So they moved about 4,000 villagers out and bombed the shit out of the village. Then the villagers were resettled to Hoa Long, Dat Do and Long Dien – so they lost their land and were shitty and hostile about that. The villagers from Long Tan were also moved on to make way for us a month before that in April this year.
The VC are pissed because this is their province and we are right in the middle of it. The Major says we are going to hold this ground and more than that we are going to clear around it and deny access to the VC. This is our mission and it starts for real right here he says. We will be patrolling to keep them back from the base, patrolling the jungle to see what they are doing, and working with the locals to protect them from the communists, win them over and keep them from the VC. We are going to take their fields, take their rice and deny them access to local sympathisers. This is our mission and we will be successful.
So we are headed for Long Fuck about 2,000 meters south of the base. 1 Field Squadron Royal Australian Engineers, or the Ginger Beers in rhyming slang, are with us, because apparently the village is full of tunnels.
The little Sioux helicopter is overhead checking things out as we go in. Its call sign is Possum which is kind of funny. It operates out of Vung Tau. The bigger choppers operate out of a flat cleared area on the base here, from a helipad they call Kangaroo pad.
We took our time walking in because there were supposed to be panji pits and booby traps all around the village and on the approaches. Our section didn’t see any boobys but we saw plenty of panji pits, nasty bloody things they are. One we found had dark coloured stuff on the points of the stakes, either pigs blood or their own shit, the dirty buggers. So we knocked the poisoned stakes over carefully with our shovels and cleared the leaves from around the edges so it is obvious what it is and no one will fall in it, even if the sticks have been neutralised. You can’t be too careful.
We surrounded the village and told the villagers to get out with loud hailers. We moved in from all sides. It was once a pretty village, with nice gardens and hedges and lots of plots of land in backyards for vegetables. The houses were nicely built too.
But now there were burn marks on some houses, craters from bombs, bullets holes in the buildings and ammo cartridges lying around. The Yanks and the VC had a real set to here.
We came across what used to be the granary for the whole village. After the battle the Yanks has sent in their B52’s from high altitude and a 1,000 bomb had taken out the granary. It left a hole 6m deep and 45m wide. It was fucken huge and we all wondered what it would be like hearing that baby go off.
We went in to the village slowly and could hear the odd sniper fire from the other side of the village but there was nothing near us. We had to search every house. And we did it real slow. It was spooky though, like a ghost town. No one in it, nothing moving, not even chickens or dogs. Like they all disappeared. Well I guess they did when the Yanks kicked them out.
Dinger and I approached our first house, with Koppy and Squizzy behind us. We stood on each side of the door and looked at each other. We nodded. Dinger kicked the door in and I jumped though it and took left, sweeping with my rifle to me eyes, he jumped in and swept right. It took a second to adjust to the gloom. It was one big room with chairs and a table in it and a fire pit at the back.
“Clear” I said “Clear” he said. We moved to the left where there was an open doorway, and Koppy and Squizzy came in behind us. We edge around the doorway and there are low slung beds laid out in here. So not a very big house, one room for living and one room for sleeping. “We’ll take in here you sweep that room” I say to Koppy and Squiz.
“Righto” Squizzy says.
We look around, being careful of traps like the Ginger Beers told us. I look at a photo on the wall of a smiling man and woman and 3 kids. We move to the beds. Dinger looks at me and grabs the edge of the first one. I have my rifle to my eye, and nod, he flips it over real quick, but there is nothing there. He steps forward and taps the ground with his feet. Sounds solid.
We move to the next one and repeat it. Nothing. At the next one he flips the bed and there is a square hole going into the ground.
“Tunnel” I yell and drop to my knee. Dinger brings his rifle up and drops to his knee too. The Ginger Beers had told us there would be tunnel entrances in most houses somewhere, but usually only one. I become aware of the tension in my head. Temples thumping, sweat dripping down my face. Is some bastard coming out of here with a machine gun or a grenade?
Koppy and Squizzy come running through the door, rifles up.
“Shit eh” says Squizzy “You got one. Nice one boys. Let’s have a look”.
He steps forward and peeps over while the 3 of us cover the hole. He pulls out his torch, flicks it on and points it in.
“Nuthin, have a gander”. We all step forward and peer over the lip. It goes down about a metre and then heads left.
“We goin’ in or what?” says Squizzy grinning away.
“No fucken way” says Dinger.
“No fear” says I, “we call the Ginger Beers like they said” and I look over at him and his grin tells me he is joking. “You go in you fucker” I say, grinning back.
“No fucken way” he says grinning harder.
“I’ll go get ‘em” says Koppy and he heads out.
We step back from the hole and keep our rifles half up, half watching it. The tension eases away a bit with Squizzy and his big bloody grin. Fuck it was full on there, and it’s not over yet, but it has eased a bit.
“I’m having a smoke. Keep an eye on that hole Squiz ya’ bastard” I say and step away a bit to let my pulse go down as Dinger and Squiz keep an eye on the hole. I wander off and look at more photos on the wall. Here is an old couple, maybe the grandparents, and a real big group of people standing under the shade of a tree. I guess it’s their extended family but it’s hard to tell because they all look the same.
Koppy comes back and says we have to wait for the engineers because there are tunnels all over the village.
We take it in turns to guard the hole and it is mid-afternoon before someone comes.
“Fuck me you took your time, we got a tunnel entrance ‘ere.” says Squizzy to the engineer Lance Corporal who turns up.
“Get fucked sunshine” he says good naturedly. “The whole village is full of them smartass so no medal for you alright? Whatta ya got?”
“Over here” We say and we lead him over to the hole.
“Yup that’s one alright. Probably connects to the one in the house next door. They found it under a trap door in the kitchen,” he takes out a note book and starts sketching away.
“What you drawing?” asks Squizzy.
“Your fucken portrait sunshine, hold still for me.”
“Fuck off” Squizzy says.
“I’m mapping the tunnels and we’ll put it all together for your fucken information. What are you writing this down?”
“No but scribbles will, won’t you Scribs?”
“Probably” I mumble, embarrassed.
“Bill Maloney. M A L O N E Y just so you spell it right mate. What are you a reporter or something?
“I’m keeping a diary” I say in a low voice.
“Humph” he says, not taking his eye off his drawing and losing interest in me. Which is fine by me, I don’t like to talk about it.
“Righto” he says and closes his notebook, “Drop a grenade in this one and see if you can close it off”, he steps back.
“Alright” says Koppy and we step back while he steps forward. He pulls the pin and says “Fire in the hole”.
We crouch down and cover our ears a bit and open our mouths and BOOM goes the grenade and smoke and dust goes everywhere. It settles a bit and we walk back to look, rifles up, still cautious. But the hole is closed and the side walls have collapsed and now it is just a pile of dirt.
“Good job, find your section leader and do another one.”