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Friday, November 11
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Free
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LONG TAN
The Battle of Long Tan on 18 August 1966 was a savage action in which 108 men of former Delta Company 6RAR, supported by artillery, fought off an enemy regiment of four regular Viet Cong and NVA battalions. Harry Smith's company sadly lost 17 killed and 23 wounded, but the enemy’s casualties were in the order of 500 killed and 800 wounded. The battle was applauded as the most savage company action of the Australian involvement and was later selected by the Viet-nam Veterans Association of Australia as their icon of the war. But the gallantry awards recommended by Smith's officers and himself were reduced by half. So began another battle which has just been resolved 50 years later. This book is his life story and the story of his ongoing battle.
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An exclusive extract
Reconstruction of the Battle of Long Tan, Vietnam,18 August 1966
The soft swish swish of the 2m tall elephant grass brushed against their sweaty wet greens; it was the bloody red mud sucking at their boots and the consistent slashing of 12 Platoon’s alternating lead section’s machetes that made the soldiers’ 3000m trudge to Long Tan punishing. In the blistering heat the 108 travelled in single file. They were sleep-deprived.
On 13 August they had been ordered out on a long patrol, which included the Long Tan rubber plantation to the base of the large
hill named Nui Dat 2, which was just to the northwest of where an enemy regiment arrived on 14 August and was waiting to attack the Nui Dat Australian Task Force base. Then, barely back at base, without warning in the very early hours of the steamy morning of 17 August came the blast of enemy 82-mm mortar bombs, 75-mm recoilless rifle ‘rockets’ and 70-mm artillery shells, fired into the base for more than 22 minutes. Silence fell as suddenly as it had been broken. Weary, the men stood to, on lookout until dawn for an expected ground attack which never came. They had been rostered on picket duties that same night. But now they had to move swiftly.
That morning the big brass sitting somewhat safely at Nui Dat Task Force HQ had ordered Delta Company to relieve Bravo Company’s men who had been sent out at dawn on the 17th to look for the enemy who had fired the mortars, not anticipating contact, the enemy thought long gone, and having ordered a late breakfast. There Bravo had uncovered vacated enemy mortar positions and were ordered to continue searching; to be relieved the next day. Bravo’s 80-odd soldiers had spent the day and night unmolested at the edge of the Long Tan rubber plantation, east-southeast of Nui Dat HQ and just east of the Suoi Da Bang River.
Not an enemy soldier had lingered to be fingered. Already at dawn 48 soldiers had returned to the base for local leave; no danger perceived by the company commander, the battalion commanding officer or the task force commander. After relieving Bravo the 108 were to track down the enemy who had shelled the base – probably 30 to 40 Viet Cong, maybe ‘a weapons platoon and protection’ that had ‘shooted and scooted’ and were now long gone, slipping into their familiar jungle bases. That was the most the Delta lads had been told anyway.
Lt Dave Sabbin the morning after the battle
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This was Operation Vendetta – so named by their nuggety carrot-top company commander Major Harry Smith, as revenge for the mortaring of Nui Dat; a mission that would be short, swift and nothing more, lads. No big deal.
The soldiers had kitted up for an operation of five days, these finely honed and tuned super-fit young men; 68 Aussie Nashos and near 40 tough Regular Army, and with them three well-practised New Zealand Artillery Battery Forward Observer party who had served with the 1st Battalion Group at Bien Hoa. On this stifling morning the men carried 40 kg on their dripping backs and around their belts, including 110 rounds and water bottles. Some also lugged 200-round belts for the M60 machine guns, along with heavy PRC 9 VHF radios and spare batteries. |
Resting during battlefield clearance
Through the undergrowth and over two creek crossings of the Suoi Da Bang, their Armalites, SLRs, M60s and Owen guns held high and dry, the 35-degree sun and clammy stickiness polished the sheen of their youth.
As infantry you are primed for death that arrives without warning or conscience. Hopefully the other guy’s, after you send the first bullet. But it is enduring and infinite in your psyche that you could be next. You live from day to day. That is your training.
Yet on this monsoon morning of 18 August 1966 as Major Harry Smith, your nuggety Green Beret commander urges you on through the unrelenting terrain, could you ever foresee the epic David and Goliath battle waiting for you, just a few hours east of the Nui Dat base in the Long Tan rubber plantation?
No fucking way, mate.
Shit, a Yankee Budweiser would go down well right now. Plenty of them back at base. The Delta boys regularly traded their distinctive slouch hats for Buds and Schlitz. Stay focused, son. This is your life lurking here in the long grass. Meanwhile this afternoon’s treat of the eagerly awaited base concert with Aussie rocker Col Joye and his Joy Boys and that nicely rounded Little Pattie was now dead meat. ‘Can Do’ Delta Company had been called to duty to perhaps make holes in a few D445 Gooks in black/ khaki pyjamas, although the Cong were surely gone by now. Bugger about missing the concert as they marched to the beat of the different drum, the pulsating thump thump of Col Joye’s decibels of bass resonating behind them.
But you focus, son.
‘Here’s the blood.’
It’s 1 pm and just inside the Long Tan rubber plantation. Delta Company has reached its destination. Bravo Company’s boss, Major Noel Ford, briefs Delta Company’s Major Harry Smith near the enemy firing positions. Funny meeting up again like this; they’d been roommates at Officer Cadet School, Portsea, in 1952.
Noel, Harry and a security group of men look around at the evidence of discarded empty mortar and rocket ammunition boxes, pieces of bloodstained clothing and Ho Chi Minh sandals.
‘And more here; a trail, see. They had bullock carts and took their wounded – or dead, hopefully. Our artillery counter bombardment must have got some of ‘em,’ announces Noel.
The men brew up and share Delta’s hard rations. Bravo had been sent out without calculating they might need to stay overnight and although they’d been resupplied with some rations by a platoon of Charlie Company yesterday afternoon, their provisions were thin. Charlie’s platoon had searched the rubber south of Bravo Company and, finding nothing, returned to Nui Dat.
As infantry you are primed for death that arrives without warning or conscience. Hopefully the other guy’s, after you send the first bullet. But it is enduring and infinite in your psyche that you could be next. You live from day to day. That is your training.
Yet on this monsoon morning of 18 August 1966 as Major Harry Smith, your nuggety Green Beret commander urges you on through the unrelenting terrain, could you ever foresee the epic David and Goliath battle waiting for you, just a few hours east of the Nui Dat base in the Long Tan rubber plantation?
No fucking way, mate.
Shit, a Yankee Budweiser would go down well right now. Plenty of them back at base. The Delta boys regularly traded their distinctive slouch hats for Buds and Schlitz. Stay focused, son. This is your life lurking here in the long grass. Meanwhile this afternoon’s treat of the eagerly awaited base concert with Aussie rocker Col Joye and his Joy Boys and that nicely rounded Little Pattie was now dead meat. ‘Can Do’ Delta Company had been called to duty to perhaps make holes in a few D445 Gooks in black/ khaki pyjamas, although the Cong were surely gone by now. Bugger about missing the concert as they marched to the beat of the different drum, the pulsating thump thump of Col Joye’s decibels of bass resonating behind them.
But you focus, son.
‘Here’s the blood.’
It’s 1 pm and just inside the Long Tan rubber plantation. Delta Company has reached its destination. Bravo Company’s boss, Major Noel Ford, briefs Delta Company’s Major Harry Smith near the enemy firing positions. Funny meeting up again like this; they’d been roommates at Officer Cadet School, Portsea, in 1952.
Noel, Harry and a security group of men look around at the evidence of discarded empty mortar and rocket ammunition boxes, pieces of bloodstained clothing and Ho Chi Minh sandals.
‘And more here; a trail, see. They had bullock carts and took their wounded – or dead, hopefully. Our artillery counter bombardment must have got some of ‘em,’ announces Noel.
The men brew up and share Delta’s hard rations. Bravo had been sent out without calculating they might need to stay overnight and although they’d been resupplied with some rations by a platoon of Charlie Company yesterday afternoon, their provisions were thin. Charlie’s platoon had searched the rubber south of Bravo Company and, finding nothing, returned to Nui Dat.
Just some of the enemy weapons recovered
‘Harry the Ratcatcher’ – which they’d secretly called him since he’d busted a clandestine card game in his time serving in Malaya in
’55–’57 and triumphantly announced, ‘Gotcha, you rats’ – looked at the trails leading north, south and east; the slow trail of the wounded. To the north the surviving enemy soldiers’ foot trail was already 36 hours old and would, he knew, be heading to where Alpha Company was already patrolling.
Radioing to his battalion CO, Lieutenant Colonel Colin ‘Mousey’
Townsend, Harry suggested that despite tracks to the north, east, and south, his gut feeling was to patrol east through the rubber to a secure jungle base for that night and on to the artillery gun range limit - another 3 km – tomorrow. And as he had learned in Malaya, jungle is more secure and has far fewer mosquitoes than rubber plantations. The Ratcatcher’s gut feelings had served him well in his 33 years. Twenty-five of those with guns in his hand. He was not an indecisive man. Some even called him ruthless when he took on a particular military mindset.
‘On the toss of a coin, go east, young man!’ the young career major quipped into the radio frequency.
But at that fateful moment Harry Smith did not know the unpromising truth. In fact no-one from Nui Dat base knew the truth other than the task force commander, Brigadier Oliver David ‘OD’ Jackson, and just three of his officers. Jackson was London-born, a graduate of the Royal Military College, Duntroon, had done World War II service and now ’Nam.
Incredibly Jackson had already been given crucial information by the top-secret 547 Signals Intelligence Unit at Nui Dat and the
Australian Army Training Team Liaison Officer, Commando Captain Mike Wells, based at 10 ARVN Division Sector HQ, Ba Ria.
It was, Jackson was told from Morse code radio intercept, more than likely the 5th Division’s 275 Regiment and support units were resting in jungle just east of the Long Tan rubber plantation, with another major force, Regiment 274, somewhere to the north.
And more … that D445 battalion was probably near Xa Long Tan to the southeast of the rubber plantation.
Local D445 were the very adept band of local soldiers who regularly recruited villagers at the point of a rifle.
’55–’57 and triumphantly announced, ‘Gotcha, you rats’ – looked at the trails leading north, south and east; the slow trail of the wounded. To the north the surviving enemy soldiers’ foot trail was already 36 hours old and would, he knew, be heading to where Alpha Company was already patrolling.
Radioing to his battalion CO, Lieutenant Colonel Colin ‘Mousey’
Townsend, Harry suggested that despite tracks to the north, east, and south, his gut feeling was to patrol east through the rubber to a secure jungle base for that night and on to the artillery gun range limit - another 3 km – tomorrow. And as he had learned in Malaya, jungle is more secure and has far fewer mosquitoes than rubber plantations. The Ratcatcher’s gut feelings had served him well in his 33 years. Twenty-five of those with guns in his hand. He was not an indecisive man. Some even called him ruthless when he took on a particular military mindset.
‘On the toss of a coin, go east, young man!’ the young career major quipped into the radio frequency.
But at that fateful moment Harry Smith did not know the unpromising truth. In fact no-one from Nui Dat base knew the truth other than the task force commander, Brigadier Oliver David ‘OD’ Jackson, and just three of his officers. Jackson was London-born, a graduate of the Royal Military College, Duntroon, had done World War II service and now ’Nam.
Incredibly Jackson had already been given crucial information by the top-secret 547 Signals Intelligence Unit at Nui Dat and the
Australian Army Training Team Liaison Officer, Commando Captain Mike Wells, based at 10 ARVN Division Sector HQ, Ba Ria.
It was, Jackson was told from Morse code radio intercept, more than likely the 5th Division’s 275 Regiment and support units were resting in jungle just east of the Long Tan rubber plantation, with another major force, Regiment 274, somewhere to the north.
And more … that D445 battalion was probably near Xa Long Tan to the southeast of the rubber plantation.
Local D445 were the very adept band of local soldiers who regularly recruited villagers at the point of a rifle.
Nui Dat
They were likely the meeters, greeters, guides and feeders for 275 Regiment when it arrived from the far northeast on 14 August – and all this was reported promptly to OD Jackson sitting pretty at Nui Dat. But what did the brigadier respond with? ‘Oh, the radio is probably just a 275 Regiment HQ doing a reconnaissance.’ Reconnaissance for what Brigadier? So Jackson ignored the critical information available. After being handed this vital classified evidence by Captain Trevor Richards, OC 547 Signal Troop at Nui Dat, OD chose to tell only three fellow officers. Thus in a heartbeat, in dispatching Harry and his 108 men of Delta Coy and NZ Artillery to Long Tan that risky day of Operation ‘Vendetta’, the brigadier had unintentionally fitted them up for a possible death sentence.
But what the enemy was to discover was that the indomitable Harry Smith and his courageous soldiers were unerringly programmed to win. The determined Tasmanian was a driven perfectionist and commanding this titanic unforeseen battle, the thought of losing didn’t even waft onto the rim of his radar.
The Ratcatcher may have been feisty, demanding and at times rebellious but he was also ex-Commando and a trainer of Commandos and in the frightful monsoonal battle that was soon to engulf the men of Delta, not even a colossal 2000 enemy VC and North Vietnamese Army were going to stop Harry’s men from securing perhaps one of the most impossible of our ANZAC victories.
But what the enemy was to discover was that the indomitable Harry Smith and his courageous soldiers were unerringly programmed to win. The determined Tasmanian was a driven perfectionist and commanding this titanic unforeseen battle, the thought of losing didn’t even waft onto the rim of his radar.
The Ratcatcher may have been feisty, demanding and at times rebellious but he was also ex-Commando and a trainer of Commandos and in the frightful monsoonal battle that was soon to engulf the men of Delta, not even a colossal 2000 enemy VC and North Vietnamese Army were going to stop Harry’s men from securing perhaps one of the most impossible of our ANZAC victories.
Malaya, 1956
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Keith Payne VC, Ben Roberts-Smith VC and Harry Smith at Maryborough 2011
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6RAR ceremony on 18 August 1969 at Long Tan
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Long Tan – The Start of a Lifelong Battle by Harry Smith (with Toni McCrae)
Online at www.bigskypublishing.com.au
Available at all good bookshops. Ebook on Amazon or iBookstore. rrp $29.99
Online at www.bigskypublishing.com.au
Available at all good bookshops. Ebook on Amazon or iBookstore. rrp $29.99