In the Jungle

     Large bands of virgin jungle covered much of rural Phuoc Tuy Province. It was here where the Viet Cong hid and trained and travelled from one area to another undetected from the road or from the air and it was into these areas where Australian troops were sent to hunt this elusive enemy.
     Such uninhabited areas were declared 'free fire zones', meaning that it was an official 'no go' zone for civilians. Anyone sighted in such areas was automatically declared enemy. Unfortunately, many of the peasants continued to take the risk and forage for food in these restricted areas, resulting in tragic consequences. One such event took place a couple of k's away from the village of Binh Ba. It was July 1966.

"Left forward platoon advanced; machine gunner of No.4 Section saw a
black cladded male figure to his right front moving parallel to the platoon.
Suspecting an ambush, the gunner fired three 5 round bursts into the area.
An immediate sweep was carried out but the male had taken off. In the banana
plantation lay a dead boy (about 10yrs old) and a badly wounded dying female."
- Lt. Terry O'Hanlon, report  Aug.1966, Map GR. 462 716, 5RAR Commander's Diaries.
 

Out in the jungle, from ‘rubber’,
Vast thickets of spiky bamboo;
Fresh signs of ox-carts detected,
Deep grooves in the mud, a clear clue.
Then, distinct foreign ‘jibber’  'twas heard,
Wafting down, from just up the track;
Three ‘unfriendlies’ advancing,
Carrying supplies and all dressed in black. 


 Hand signals issued in silence,
Four riflemen, crawling, left to a bund;
Commander’s clenched fist, thrusting right,
Referred to our two on the Gun.
Nine firing as one, together,
Death came in one ripping lead wave;
And a young girl’s bloody photograph,
Left attached to one shallow grave.


Back on patrol, in the jungle,
Binh Ba locals, foraged this land;
’Twas a free-fire zone area,
Civilians from there had been banned.
Suddenly, out to the right, half-hidden,
Appeared on the edge of ‘bananas’,
Heavy rain, blurring five figures,
All dressed in black cotton ‘pyjamas’. 


Our Gun opened up a short burst,
Spitting death, in a half belt or so;
A family wiped out in an instant,
How in the bloody hell could we know?
A young Asian boy, now white, lay still,
Red splattered this background of green;
Mother screaming, unrelenting,
Medic injecting morphine.


 Innocent peasants, picking wild fruits,
Oblivious, to this military ‘law’,
Looking like Viet Cong guerrillas,
In that unique, filthy war.
Such scenes, today, haunt the mind,
Truly cleansed, 'twill never be;
’Twas hard not to get dirt on your hands,
In the jungle, around Phuoc Tuy.

© Paul La Forest
 

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