The Vietnam Era

Mobi524 · **Posted:** Wed Apr 16, 2008 11:05 am

Wayne
Very impressive.

Nigel

Seejay · **Posted:** Thu Jul 17, 2008 9:18 am

This a little dit I wrote some time ago about the differences between the three Australian services in Vietnam. Still holds true today. And politically correct it isn't....

CATEGORY # 1: THE SWOTTIE

Most proliferous of the species was the swottie. (To be perfectly correct there were actually two types of swottie – the liferswottie and the nashoswottie – but we shall just refer to them collectively as swotties). Now, some of these Swotties had tasks up there in Southern Gooksland that involved long, informative nature walks amongst the local flora and fauna, and naturally, those walks had to be planned some days, months or even minutes in advance by the Head Quagmirites (so named because of their brain processes). The HQ’s loved their swotties – a term lovingly bestowed upon them by other less fortunates like the salties (see next category), due to their habit of swatting their bodies frequently in what is assumed to be some secret ritual.

The HQ’s spent many long anxious hours waiting for their swotties to eventually ‘phone home’ and let them know where they were, and what sort of interesting fauna they had uncovered on their camping trips.

The HQ’s were mostly interested in the swotties’ news, except of course when it interfered with really inportant stuff like meals, drinking, mail reading, darts competitions and sleeping. When that happened the swotties were given the next series of interesting map-and-compass-reading exercises to complete. Of course, the HQ’s cared greatly for their swotties, and ensured that they were given the most nutritious of canned, dried, and packeted delights to take with them on their little jaunts. Not for the swotties the high-cholestorol ‘real meat’, or nasty fast-food inventions like ‘tomato sauce’. No! The swotties were given a balanced diet, and it really helped that the cans in their pack balanced out the Really Intricate F****ng Loud Equipment (R.I.F.L.E.) they carried in front of them.

The HQ’s so loved their swotties that they also organised free fireworks displays at any hour of the day or night for their entertainment, and of course this was done in conjunction with the locals so they too could join in the activities. They were also given so many free helicopter rides that they actually got bored with them and became most unhappy when their turn to ride came up again, can you believe it??!! And then, when the HQ’s organised the locals to go and play near them, the swotties were so happy, they actually provided some personally-delivered fireworks back to the HQ’s in gratitude, such was their working relationship.

Some of the swotties had been given special skills to use, such as enclosed tractor driving, and fireworks delivery, and keeper of the phone (for phoning home). These special skills were a source of much pride to their compatriots, who bestowed nicknames like ‘treadhead’, and ‘banger’ and 'nine mile sniper' and ‘sparky’ and so on. When confronted by one of these highly skilled swotties, they were prone to call out encouraging comments like: run for your lives he’s gonna drive over us; and couldya drop the shit any closer, dopey; and ‘hey dickhead drop that effin aerial the gooks are aimin at it’, and so on.

Mostly though, they were trained in the activity of ‘grunting’. Some unkind military people have stated – incorrectly as it turned out – that the ‘grunt swotties’ actually communicated via a series of grunts, but recently acquired data now actually proves the grunting was an appreciative sound given out by them when they were out on their camping trips.

It seemed to most that the treadheads main purpose in life was to create new and wonderful walking trails through the nasty icky vegetation, while giving various numbers of swotties joyrides on and in their enclosed tractors, and at the same time attracting the attention of large numbers of locals. Some of the enclosed tractors had a large fireworks attachment on the front, and this was used for very exciting displays in how to deliver Huge Energy into various types of structures built by the locals. What few people realise is that the swotties were also employed as building permit inspectors, and were responsible for the inspection and removal of local structures that did not conform to the building and sanitary code.

CATEGORY # 2: THE SALTIES

The salties on the other hand, had a much harder existence. (They were all lifersalties, having had no nashos at all foisted upon them.) These salties were the blokes that had to travel the world on big grey ships over blue salt water waving the Flag Of Oz in the faces of some very nasty bargirls, and rattling their sabres – sorry, cutlasses – at many recalcitrant resort owners who would not grant them entry. Also, they were duty bound to remove as much alcohol from each hotel they passed by the only means at their disposal – personal consumption! Poor buggers – No, can’t say that, as buggery was a crime in those days - as opposed to being a career requirement these days!

Now it should be pointed out here that Salties are not to be confused with the confused ‘SortaSalties’ who travelled mainly on dark green little ships on muddy salt water and who navigated by avoiding the green & brown lumpy bits called ‘land’, and ‘riverbank’. These sortasalties were of swottie origin, but something sorta happened in their development, resulting in a generally lower IQ level than the nashoswottie, and they tried to return to the sea – sorta like a reverse species evolution thing, if you know what I mean. If there was one thing that was common amongst the sortasalties, it was their burning desire to be real salties when they grew up. Alas, it was never to be…………

Anyway, back to the real salties. These poor bu – er, chaps were forced into travelling along with their accommodation so that they were forced to sleep in their own bed each night rather than out under the stars ‘au naturel’, as the swotties were. Also, they were forced to endure hot showers twice a day, and their seniorsalties harangued them mercilessly with statements like “Cleanliness is next to godliness, and the showers are next to the heads!” Of course, the reader would recognise that ‘heads’ is the saltie name for latrine, or toilet as the riffraffs (see next category) would call it.

Also, they were required to eat the dreaded ‘realmeat’ and ‘tomato sauce’, and contend with dessert at least once a day – and we all know what that sort of treatment can do to a fellow, don’t we? Yes!

Contentment!

Which is the very enemy of good military discipline.

Readers would also remember that the salties were also given special skills, and were called things like: stoker; and chippy; and tiffy; and gunner; and sparker; and ring-bolt kicking deckape; and so on and so forth.

Some salties sometime sailed seaward on special ships that had large fireworks attachments, and they sailed to north gooksland and gave fireworks displays at various sites. This made the northgooks quite angry, as all displays of such nature were strictly controlled by the Communist Union National Trust Society and various government permit requirements. They became so cross in fact, that they frequently provided their own displays in an attempt to drown out and belittle the salties.

Other salties however, were condemned to endure the more mundane existence of cruise ship and cargo transport providers. This was a very unpopular activity given only to the most unpopular salties. In fact only the most unpopular people got to travel in this way, and even the swotties knew that if they had to travel by Grey Funnel Ferryline to and from South Gooksland they were being punished, as the swotties in favour got to travel by luxurious Quantarse airplanes or even Riffraff Crabair. (Even the folks back home knew those on the ferryline ship were not in favour, and came in their thousands to bestow their displeasure upon them as well.)

CATEGORY # 3: THE RIFFRAFF

In every group of people are those that stay in the background and attract little notice, and such are the riffraff.

Riffraffs were made up of both liferriffraffs and nashoriffraffs, but it was – and still is – difficult to distinguish one from the other. Riffraff were creatures of extreme habit, and if their routine was ever interrupted or disturbed in any way, they were known to take to their beds in shock.

A bad day for a riffraff was when he had to be up before 8 AM; an awful day was when he had had a bad haircut; a shitofaday was if there were only 3 choices of dessert at dinner; and if the ice cream machine ever broke down it was grounds for evacuation.

One might get the idea from this that the riffraffs were somewhat pampered and lacking in devotion to their duty. Not so! They were more than anxious to take the swotties on their chopper joyrides, and revelled in using their fireworks attachments to amuse the locals. The locals also joined in the game by sending up their own brands of pretty fireworks like ‘Tahray-serr’, and ‘Kahn-honfire’,and ‘Samawl-hahms Fire’, which the riffraff really looked forward to. They could be seen dodging and weaving their choppers and biplanes as close as possible to the displays so as to elicit cries of delight from the gooks, who, strangely enough, were all fans of the British Royal family, as they were all named Charles.

Now as the reader would remember, all the Charles’ were later joined in south gooksland by the northern dissident group who, for the want of a better name, described themselves as Not Very Appy, or NVA for short. The NVA had been brought in because of spreading unrest amongst the northern fireworks union, said unrest being caused by the wholesale use of fireworks in the south without permits.

The NVA knew that they could provide much better shows than the local mob, who liked to be known as the guys who were All Really Very Nice, or ARVN for short. You see, the NVA had been perfecting a new and exciting fireworks in the north called Spot Another Monkey, or SAM for short. The Riffraff knew of these wondrous inventions, and had a distinct aversion to being in the general area when they were used. It had something to do with the SAM’s having some sort of an accidental triggering effect on their ejection systems.

And such was the main differences between the services.

Hippy Chippy · **Posted:** Thu Jul 31, 2008 11:03 pm

Can’t vouch for the validity of these (US?) statistics, but the look very interesting. :-k

Vietnam War Facts:

Facts, Statistics, Fake Warrior Numbers, and Myths Dispelled

9,087,000 military personnel served on active duty during the official Vietnam era from August 5, 1964 to May 7, 1975.
2,709,918 Americans served in uniform in Vietnam
Vietnam Veterans represented 9.7% of their generation.
240 men were awarded the Medal of Honour during the Vietnam War
The first man to die in Vietnam was James Davis, in 1958. He was with the 509th Radio Research Station. Davis Station in Saigon was named for him
58,148 were killed in Vietnam
75,000 were severely disabled
23,214 were 100% disabled
5,283 lost limbs
1,081 sustained multiple amputations
Of those killed, 61% were younger than 23
11,465 of those killed were younger than 20 years old
Of those killed, 17,539 were average age of men killed: 23.1 years
Five men killed in Vietnam were only 16 years old.
The oldest man killed was 62 years old.
As of January 15, 2 004, there are 1,875 Americans still unaccounted for from the Vietnam War
97% of Vietnam Veterans were honourably discharged
91% of Vietnam Veterans say they are glad they served
74% say they would serve again, even knowing the outcome
Vietnam veterans have a lower unemployment rate than the same non-vet age groups.
Vietnam veterans' personal income exceeds that of our non-veteran age group by more than 18 percent.
87% of Americans hold Vietnam Veterans in high esteem.
There is no difference in drug usage between Vietnam Veterans and non-Vietnam Veterans of the same age group (Source: Veterans Administration Study)
Vietnam Veterans are less likely to be in prison - only one-half of one percent of Vietnam Veterans have been jailed for crimes.
85% of Vietnam Veterans made successful transitions to civilian life.
Interesting Census Stats and "Been There" Wannabee:
1,713,823 of those who served in Vietnam were still alive as of August, 1995 (census figures).
~ During that same Census count, the number of Americans falsely claiming to have served in-country was: 9,492,958.
~ As of the current Census taken during August, 2000, the surviving U.S. Vietnam Veteran population estimate is: 1,002,511. This is hard to believe, losing nearly 711,000 between '95 and '00. That's 390 per day. During this Census count, the number of Americans falsely claiming to have served in-country is: 13,853,027. By this census, FOUR OUT OF FIVE WHO CLAIM TO BE Vietnam vets are not.
The Department of Defense Vietnam War Service Index officially provided by The War Library originally reported with errors that 2,709,918 U.S. military personnel as having served in-country. Corrections and confirmations to this errored index resulted in the addition of 358 U.S. military personnel confirmed to have served in Vietnam but not originally listed by the Department of Defense. (All names are currently on file and accessible 24/7/365).

Peter Weyling · **Posted:** Tue Dec 30, 2008 3:29 pm

Have just gone through a Vietnam Book reading period.
This was bought about by the fact that I recently met up again with a Vietnam Vet who I took over in Sydney in 1970, and who lost his leg over there, then ended up as my neighbour in Canberra. Then only recently a new guy joined our RSL Sub-Branch in Woopi. He won an MC over there and I took him over in 1970 as well. Only last year did he feel prompted to join an RSL Sub-branch for the first time...and marched at our Anzac Day for the first time!!
When he told me the story of how he won his MC the hairs on my neck were standing up...fair dinkum!!

So I realized that I didn't know a lot about what our guys went through once they got over there...and how it affected some of them when they got home.

If anyone wants a few good reads, here they are:
The Battle of Coral,
Well done those Men, (This one is about one man's battle with PTSD)
Vietnam..the Australian War, and
Blue Lanyard Red Banner .... the story of the Aussie Diggers in the Cu Chi Tunnels.

I believe that MANY Australians still don't know what our boys went through over there, or even how they were affected by how they were treated by people on their return...Our Aboriginal soldiers are still suffering...unable to access DVA entitlements etc.

I have recently become aware of a Vietnam Vet living rough in the bush outside a place called Ulong near Coffs.
I'm trying to make contact, through the Manager of Ulong RSL, with him just to check if he's aware of his entitlements etc. He doesn't trust too many people.
Apparently there are many like him out there.

It's a bit sad really.

Seejay · **Posted:** Tue Dec 30, 2008 4:07 pm

Pete, they're all good books. And you may also want to read 'Vietnam - The Ten Thousand Day War' by Michael McClear. It will give you the background to how it all started, and it may surprise you with a lot of the facts it reveals. If you can't locate a copy, PM me your address and I'll send you mine.

I honestly believe that the treatment received in Australia is the major cause of many Vietnam Vets withdrawing from the world - period.

I can remember being on the Sydney's flight deck watching some of the shit flying around ashore and thinking 'Jeez I'm glad I'm here and not over there!' Then a Huey Cobra zoomed overhead heading for the fighting and it sunk in that what was happening onshore could grab us at any time. Sobering thought......

Nobody else mentioned it, but I'm certain most others thought on similar lines.

As a tribute to those blokes we took over and brought back, I penned the following quite some time ago:

Regret

I saw you embark, on our way to Vung Tau,
You came in your hundreds, with your packs, and your weapons.
I never asked your name, and I regret that, now,
We were all the pick of Australia’s young sons,
We were fit, and healthy, and we all knew how,
To do our job, do it well, and do it bloodywell now.

I taught you to tell the stern from the bow,
The galley from the heads, and the call of the ship’s bell,
I laughed at your sickness as we dipped to the swell,
I laughed at your stagger, and I regret that, now,
I regret that the ignorance of my 19 years, I did show,
I wasn’t yet aware you had a ticket to hell.

I saw you turn to the north, and stare,
Wondering what fate awaited you there,
Would you return to your home, and your life?
Or would you fall, in the noise, and the strife?
Would those at home know of the terror waiting there?
Worse still - if you fell, would they even care?

Those first days were hot, the summer seas lazy,
The ocean swells long, the horizon hazy,
And I saw you practicing, day after day,
At the arts meant to keep you out of harm’s way,
Gunfire and stealth, but try as you may,
The coming of death was the lesson in play,

That sobering day of disembarkation,
Started before dawn with circling formations,
Of Phantoms, and Hueys, all “Loaded for bear”,
All turning and searching to find out where,
A smudge of colour would give the location,
Of a group of Charlie, marked for damnation,
Delivered by tracer, and rocket and napalm,
Came the short message – “Charlie’s bought the farm.”

I remember that day, the noise and the smell,
Explosions in the water, on VC hill as well,
Long Son Island - the jungle thrashed and jumping,
Hit, and hit again, the artillery thumping,
It lives with me forever, imprinted so well,
In a mind that carries a piece of your hell.

You smiled as you left my ship in Vung Tau,
Steady of step, and showing no care,
Not knowing the fate that awaited you there,
I said when you left “Digger, take care!”
“For you I’ll return, in just a short year.”
I never asked your name, and I regret that now.

That year passed too slow, the calendar long,
The TV news showed the endless conflagration,
While the unions and activists started aggravation,
And the sheep marched, yelling ‘this war is wrong’.
And the ones who deserved the support of their nation,
Got the blame for the sins of all civilisation.

When you re-embarked, your smile wasn’t there,
You were restless and anxious with no weapon to hand,
Impatient to depart from that deadly foreign land,
I began then to see, and your pain to share,
And lapse into silence, and sit and just stare,
At nothing, and everything, and I ceased then to care.

Your job had been done, and done bloody well,
We then came home to just another kind of hell,
Fools screaming the bloody politicians’ lies,
The hate there to be seen in everybody’s eyes,
Was this Australia, land of the fair go, with ‘mates’ that turned away?
Even the 25th of April just didn’t seem to be “Our day”.

And now I look around and thirty years have flown,
We sit alone, you and I, in our ‘comfort zones’,
Just you and me, Digger, and others of our creed,
We fit in nowhere else, our trust in others long gone,
So hard for others to realise that we will always be alone.
A bunch of lost souls on a lonely journey indeed.

I’ve passed my 50 years, and it seems ‘the magic age’ is near,
If the end perchance is coming, it brings with it little fear,
For I am the richer for having known you, brother,
And again, I regret, not asking you your name.

May, 1999

Good luck with the Vet, Pete. I hope you succeed.

Peter Weyling · **Posted:** Tue Dec 30, 2008 4:24 pm

Hey CJ...just between you and me, that brought a tear to my eye...don't tell anyone else!!! Very nice...do you mind if I put it into the Woolgoolga RSL Sub-branch newsletter in February? With the appropriare acknowledgements of course.

You should be known as "poetic chippie"

I hope I can be of some use to this lost vet..I will be able to get him his entitlements if he hasn't already accessed them...but what about the social side of things!!!!

BC · **Posted:** Tue Dec 30, 2008 5:04 pm

Nicely penned CJ and no fancy wrapping!

Seejay · **Posted:** Tue Dec 30, 2008 5:46 pm

Go ahead and put it in the newsletter, Pete. Dunno about poetic, it took 30 years to write.

Brian, I tried to work 'the f***ing labor party' into it, but it's hard trying to rhyme anything with that.

I guess I was a bit naive in those days, and expected to be congratulated on 'going over there'. I actually wore my uniform ashore after we returned, and walked straight into the protestors outside GI's main gate.

Got sprayed with a mixture that smelled foul enough to come from Rucks's pig farm, and the coppers that were there hustled me out of the way onto Macleay Street and told me to get lost.

I eventually found my way to Red Anchor Tailoring and the blokes in there got me out the back and got me cleaned up, and were going to have my uniform cleaned, but I threw it in the bin and bought a new set of civvies. Ordered another uniform.

Then went to collect my fiancee, took her to her place and her father made a snide remark about having lots of money to buy new clothes, then gave me a lecture about how wrong the war was and no son of his would be allowed to become cannon fodder.

I guess I have not yet forgiven Australia for what she did to all Vietnam Vets. Welcome home parades 20 years too late, DVA staffed by miserable malcontents, and neglect by so many governments over so many years just keeps the anger going, I guess.

Anyway, off the soapbox now, and yes, I'd do it all over again. After all, look at the reprobates I got to mix with on the way.... :wink:

Peter Weyling · **Posted:** Tue Dec 30, 2008 6:03 pm

I'm hearing you CJ...and agree with you...but it's time to let the anger go. Not the memories, keep them and relive them...but the anger is bad stuff.
I try and find ways to help...like the lost vet and guys that come into my office on Wednesdays at the club.
Remember, Honour the warrior..not the war!!!!

I didn't know that stuff about what happened to you all those years ago...I'd read about it.. but didn't realize it happened to guys I knew.

I'd do it all again as well. Remember it's those good memories that made it all worthwhile. And we are a bunch of special people!!!!!!

BC · **Posted:** Tue Dec 30, 2008 6:55 pm

What a coincidence, early this morning around 0100, when a neighbours cow started bellowing for a lost calf, my sleep was interupted.

I fired up the radio and the ABC was doing a program about Iraq and Afhganistan. Callers were ringing for the next hour and virtually every one of them were against the US and the coalition going into those places.

They bagged Bush, Howard and even now, Rudd. But none of the callers said a bad word about the troops. What a change to the Vietnam era.

I didn't agree with all there comments and reasons but I did like the way they supported the troops.

So, time does change for the better, sometimes!

The Vietnam Era

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