

©
By Haydyn Dorrough
B Company 1st Tour
This short
story has been sitting about for a few years
waiting for an opportunity to run.
The April issue of Tiger Tales brought up
that opportunity. The photo page 3, of Lt.
Col John Warr (Wingy) handing the "Tiger
Pig" over to Lt. Col Eric Smith made me
smile—little
did anyone know where that day would end.
I guess the reason for this snippet about
mayhem and rebellion is to show that the
'fun gene' in the Australian soldier's
psyche just takes over at times, creating
legends and stories that make in retrospect,
the dark days a source of fun and laughter.
This is a true story, possibly the first
time told in public– cobbled together from
bleary, beery old memories shared between
mates with a chuckle and far-a-way look in
their eyes. Some of the 'facts' are a little
rubbery, names have been omitted to protect
the definitely guilty and Ron Hamlyn has
demanded his 'Right of Reply'.
I do not know if in Australian military
history a battalion CO has formally read the
“Riot Act” to his troops. I suspect that it
has not been often and, if so, the results
may not have been as happy-making for the
Diggers involved. But it did happen to the
shaggy, unshaven and hung-over remnants of B
Company, first tour, several days prior to
embarking for home.
In May of 1966, one hundred and forty B
Company men departed for Vietnam. At the end
of the tour (after the advance party
returned to Australia and those yet to
complete their tour marched out to other
battalions), thirty remained in-country from
the original group.
B Company had already taken heavy losses
over the year to 21 February 1967, when a
mine explosion (a booby trapped aerial bomb
plus a brace of jumping jacks) in the Long
Hai Hills caused a further twenty-two
casualties of which seven were KIA/DOW
(Killed in Action/Died of Wounds). Most were
from 4 Platoon and Company HQ. Those KIA’s
included the Company OC, Maj Bruce McQualter
and 4 Pl’s Lt Jim Carruthers.
After the Long Hai site was cleared of mines
by the engineers we returned to lines for a
day or two to stop shaking and work out
which way was up. From memory we had
forty-five odd men left in B Company under
the command of Bandmaster Bob Taylor.
Within
a few days Major Ron Hamlyn took over with a
brief from Wingy that they both firmly
shared “that idle hands would get up to
mischief”, so out most went to the dreaded
‘Fence’ for some light duties! Casualties
continued by the day, four wounded and a
further two DOW from mines; Pte Richard
(Dicky) Lloyd, and Lt Kerry Rinkin. Kerry
had marched into the battalion the evening
before and been at the fence but a few
hours.
Of the original one hundred and forty men,
only thirty nine originals completed the one
year tour and in the final tally, sadly,
fifteen of the twenty-five men on the The
Honour Roll were from B Company.
Shattered after Dicky and Kerry’s deaths,
but not dispirited, the depleted B Company,
returned to lines and undertook camp duties.
We were so short of men that one man to a
gun-pit per shift throughout the night
occurred occasionally. It has been said that
the stock of booze at ‘The Vile Inn’ (our
NCO & OR’s boozer) was plundered late in the
shift to steady a nerve or three and to
relieve the boredom at the pit—no
names (ever) no pack drill! Ron, nocturnally
prowling with moustache ‘a-twitch’, collared
one or two, dispensing swift justice (he
played rugby in his youth—was
known for his goal kicking), his view of
idle hands and mischief was well founded.
At last the great day arrived, (just two
days and a ‘wakey’ to go), the last
operation of the battalion, a night ambush
by B Company returned. Lt. Lou O’Dea with 5
Platoon, (they had enough men left in the
platoon to form a large section!) proudly
marched—that’s
right, marched (something they had not done
since Holsworthy) up the road past the BHQ
tent complex, with Lou holding aloft a
burning orange smoke flare and all did a
smart ‘eyes-left’ as they passed. Wingy took
the salute with most of BHQ looking on.
Later in the day B Company 7RAR moved in and
took over our responsibilities of clearing
patrols and gun pit duties.
After a huge seafood lunch put on by our
resident cooks from The Bastard Catering
Company Inc., (God loved them, I guess, only
he would), the afternoon and evening
festivities in and around our boozer were
liquid and loud—several
times so rudely interrupted by the 7 RAR
Duty Officer (DO) with so many unreasonable
demands.
Later that night with the boozer’s shutters
open and lit up like a Christmas tree, the
DO returned for the third or fourth time,
this time with the Task Force MP’s (Military
Police). All sorts of things happened,
particularly as the DO entered the boozer
without requesting permission – he had
previously been refused entry and forcibly
removed. We of course were fully (hic)
focused on our mission – we still had about
100 dozen Black Ducks and Tigers (beers, for
those who weren’t there) to finish and
dammed if we were going to be told to leave
them for the “Laughing Pigs”
—(7RAR)!—Well,
maybe, yes, we would have if Wingy had
‘told’ us and he said ‘please’—we
all did like the man.
After the boozer was closed by the MPs, ‘the
troubles’ as the Irish say, began and
continued through the night; loud slurred
discussions, hopeless quartets singing out
of tune, Armed Forced Radio hit music
echoing through the rubber as some partied
in their tents, absent officers being ‘told
where to go’ in graphic detail, fizzing
gofers thrown towards gun pits, hidden
strings jangling tin cans out on the wire,
attempts to get the 7RAR guys in the gun
pits to “av-a-beer-maaate, it sharpens the
eyesight…you can see all those funny little
things out there that keep moving” etc, and
so on.
I have a blurred memory of the next morning
of being with others, formed up in a
three-sided square near the cookhouse.
Company Officers and NCOs stiffly at
attention, Colonel Wingy, with a lot of
emotion (rage? glee?) and a loud, stern
voice saying words like; “If any of you
miserable sods (this has been toned down a
bit for our women readers) … congregate in
groups of more than two … you will be locked
up and charged … I will throw away the key …
you will never see Australia again … or
leave Vietnam … let alone get out of this
Army … I am ashamed and embarrassed…”and so
on for about ten minutes—
well Ok, we had been a little bit naughty
but hey, really not that bad, surely?
Apparently up at Task Force, the tiger’s
coat was not such a bright shade of yellow
anymore, mostly black and it was B Company’s
fault! Shit! This sounded serious! All these
words and threats as we looked on at one
poor bugger who had been handcuffed to a
rubber tree since very early morning.
Rumour had it, poor man, that, after the MPs
had withdrawn, his only crime was to drop a
purple smoke grenade down the air vent of
the underground command post and another
down the steps as the “purple occupants”
attempted to decamp. Another of the
“miserable sods” (never identified
officially) had at the same time popped a
grenade out over the wire, causing some
confusion and twitchy trigger fingers in the
7 RAR B Company gun pits.
The grenade and gunfire and the lack of
communication with B Company Command Post
resulted in a 7RAR battalion stand-to—we
of course didn’t notice! Hey, someone has to
train the troops, sharpen their reactions,
bring them to the edge …. Those at the
highest level of course, did not appreciate
this lesson in practical soldiering from the
experienced.
As the shaggy, unshaven, hung-over (and
unremorseful) remnants of B Company, we were
very lucky. I think we were confined to our
camp area for the remaining two days and
banned from the boozer. Guards were posted
at the boozer but they were, in true Aussie
style totally flexible and could (and were)
bought for a beer or two to ease their own
raging thirsts (talk about putting a tiger
in charge of the hen—err
beer-house!). Most of us managed a beer or
ten from hidden stocks to get through our
incarceration—warm
beer is better than no beer and mission
accomplished, no beer left for the Pigs.
As happens when old soldiers gather over a
beer and go into “do you remember that day
…when …”, question arise: Where were all our
fearless leaders that day and evening
anyway? I have never asked Ron, not game
really. Surely they were at a tactical
conference somewhere honing their skills for
their next tour, maybe even down at Task
Force working out with the Brigadier their
next posting, or (heresy of heresies as one
knowledgeable furphy-monger claimed) eating
seafood, washing the red dust out of their
mouths with chardonnay and singing loudly at
the BHQ Officer’s Mess. It’s all a mystery.
I think I now understand why Ron is our
membership officer. I think he is still
prowling for names and retribution. He
mutters darkly about “a conversation Wingy
had with him” (which suggests that it might
have been a little bit one sided) over tea
and scones in Wingy’s office just prior to
his reading the ‘Riot Act’ up at B Company
lines. I am not certain if Ron was muttering
about his Court Martial, or ours, or both!
I would like to hear from other B Company
members who have recollections of that
wonderful night, just to add to our
folklore. On Ron’s honour, I understand that
the Statute of Limitations now applies and
no one from B Company, will be handcuffed to
the nearest tree—so
please send anything that you remember to me
at:

(Note: The above
address is in image format to prevent
spamming, copy it into the head of your
e-mail client).
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