CDT3 in South Vietnam

by Tony Ey - 8th Team 1970 - '71

The eagerly awaited Postings notice from Canberra, announcing the names of those selected for training and subsequent deployment to South Viet Nam as the 8th CDT3, came out in May 1970. The Diving Regulating Chief, CPOCD Vic Rashleigh, actually informed me on my 22nd birthday that I had been selected for the team, and it was  the best birthday present I could have hoped for. By the time the sailors' postings were announced it was common knowledge who the 'Boss' was to be and the rumours were already running thick and fast as to who would be the Senior Sailors of the Team. The entire CD Branch of approximately 100 odd divers held their breath hoping that they had been selected for what was the most sought after posting in the diving branch. To a man, it was comparable to winning the Lottery. Most of the civilian population at that time would have found this to be a very curious attitude, but we were a very proud and dedicated team of professionals who were anxious to put our training to the test. I don't believe any of us thought too much about the politics or the rights and wrongs of the war, only that we were to have the opportunity to do what we had been trained to do. Viet Nam was to be our proving ground and we were all worried that it might be over before we had a chance to get there. Hindsight is a wonderful thing and perhaps most of us would now agree that Australia should not have sent combat troops to South Viet Nam, however we were sent, and nothing can erase the past, or the fact that Australia tragically lost over 500 of her finest young sons.

The 8th team to serve in SVN was officially formed up on the 3rd of July 1970. We all posted into HMAS Waterhen, which was to be our parent establishment for administrative purposes during our workup period as members of CDT3.

It was normal for each replacement team to be made up of seven divers. Six would eventually be selected to deploy to Viet Nam on completion of the three month work-up period, with the seventh member remaining behind as a standby replacement in case he was needed. The previous team had already needed their replacement; John Aldenhoven, after the death 'in country' of Able Seaman Bobby Wojick. Normally the diver left behind was guaranteed a slot on the following team with the poor devil having to go through the full work-up period twice. Who would remain behind was not announced until the completion of the work-up period and just prior to us all going on 'pre-embarkation leave'. So we 'Indians' all sweated for 3 months and hoped like hell that we would not be the one left behind. Our new boss was Lieutenant Edward (Jake) Linton, already something of a legend in the branch. One of the very first Clearance Divers to qualify in the RAN, Jake had earned a BEM for a particularly deep and dangerous diving operation in the icy waters of Lake Eucumbene. Our second in command was CPOCD John (Speed) Gilchrist with POCD Phil (Narra) Narramore taking up the number three slot. The remaining four Indians were LSCD Tom McNab, ABCD Larry (Digger) Digney, ABCD Brian (Blue) Furner and ABCD yours truly.

Our pre-deployment training began with a diving refresher, not that we really needed it, but it started us thinking and working together as a team. The “Bomb & Mine Disposal Section” had been moved from HMAS Rushcutter to HMAS Watson and had a name change to 'EOD Section'. It was mainly staffed by veterans of earlier Vietnam teams with Lt. Alex (Tiger Man) Donald in charge. This training quite rightly focused on weapons handling and the ordnance and booby traps which had been discovered by previous teams. We were immediately put into the swing of things by exchanging our Navy working dress for Army greens which became standard dress from that point on. This early stage saw us in the normal round of training venues including the Army School of Military Engineering at Liverpool, the demolition ranges at Marangaroo in the Blue Mountains, and the underwater training area off Clark Island. We also attended a week of training at the Army's Intelligence Centre located at Woodside near Adelaide. This little rest proved to be very interesting as we learnt a little about the history, culture and religions of Viet Nam with a detailed operational brief on enemy activity within Phuoc Thuy province. We did wonder about the value of that as we already knew we would be operating far to the north, totally separated from the Aussie Army presence. Later, after we had arrived 'in country', I did sometimes wonder what the Viet Cong's D445 battalion was up to at that particular point in time, 650 odd kilometres away to the south of us. Nobody ever bothered to tell us who was operating in our backyard. I suspect no-one knew. At the completion of the Woodside course, the troops returned to Sydney while our three fearless leaders remained behind to be subjected to a week of the Army's 'Code of Conduct' course. This far from pleasant little sojourn was meant to introduce selectees to the adventures and pleasures of being a Prisoner of War in Viet Nam. It was to be a rude awakening for 3 relatively naive matelots. I was to have the dubious honour several years later and it was the most unpleasant experience of my life; something I will never forget. When you are finally released, you tend to have an altered perspective on the human race. I presume we lowly sailors were left off the course at that time because the powers that be thought we had no knowledge that would have been useful to the enemy even if we were caught. The stories we later heard made us feel lucky that we were not considered worthy.

Our work-up continued with a specialized weapons training course, which much to our surprise was conducted by the Navy's own weapons specialists at the Naval Air Station at HMAS Albatross. The seven of us learnt how to field strip and reassemble, with our eyes closed, every small arms weapon in the Australian Military inventory. We all became proficient shots with everything from the M60 machine gun through the M79 40mm Grenade Launcher and down to the 9mm Browning pistol. On the range with the M60 we would fire at targets until the barrels became red hot. During one morning session with our 9mm handguns, the seven of us fired well in excess of a thousand rounds. We all felt we could have taken on Wyatt Earp and his crew at the OK Corral, and have won easily. As it turned out, on arrival in Saigon we were issued with the much heavier .45 calibre US issue Colt handgun. While we were at Albatross, we spent a bit of time flying with the Navy's 'Helicopter Flight' which was also working up in preparation for deployment to South Viet Nam. It was great fun to be chauffeured around at low level and it gave us some insight into what the operational flying was to be like once we arrived 'in country'. We were to come to spend so much time in choppers that we took them for granted as most people take their family car for granted.

One interesting little sidelight to our visit to the Naval Air Station occurred the night before we were due to leave. Digger, Blue and I had spent the evening consuming a few quiet beers in the nearby town of Nowra. After being kicked out of the White Ensign Club, we headed back to base where a vote was taken and it was unanimously decided to pay a visit to the WRANS quarters; which was strictly off limits to all male sailors. I had driven my big red Ford V8 down from Sydney and when we were finally chased out of the Wrans' quarters by the duty Crushers, we made our getaway in my red beast. It didn't take an Einstein to track down the owner of the only Candy Apple Red Ford V8 on base, so at 0800 the next morning I was piped to report to the gangway. I was promptly marched in to see the Regulating Officer who was infamous throughout the Navy; especially for his hatred of Divers. He was Lieutenant “Swoops" Swinerton and the 'swine' in his surname was thought by most sailors to be very appropriate. Naval officers were commonly called “Pusser's pigs” by the lower deck, but Swoops brought real meaning to the word. When he finally rounded up the three of us, he rubbed his hands with glee as he told us we were going to be charged with breaking every rule in the book, and if he had his way we would all serve a good long spell in “cells”. He then ordered us to be locked up awaiting Commander's Defaulters set for later in the day. Meanwhile Jake got wind that his boys were in cells and had a little chat with the Base Commander. We later discovered the meat of the conversation was basically that the team was due in Canungra within two days to start our Jungle Training/Battle Efficiency course, and half the team in cells was not Jake's preferred option. As we were in preparation for deployment to a war zone, official charges were definitely not on his agenda. The Commander readily agreed after Jake told him that he would not hesitate to get on the telephone to his boss, the Fleet Commander, if further explanation was required. The Admiral would not have been overly amused to see his operational Diving team delayed by such a petty matter. When Swoops was ordered to drop all charges and release us, he almost had a fit. He had us marched into his office and with no witnesses present, actually frothed at the mouth as he swore that one day he would have his revenge on us all. He prattled on for ten minutes about how his memory was long and one day we would meet again. Standing at attention listening to the ravings of this lunatic, it was difficult to hide our grins. This made him spit and froth even more until he screamed at us to get off his base and never come back. Going to war certainly had some advantages although Jake made it very clear that he didn't want to have to bail us out again. Narra just had a quiet chuckle to himself and muttered to us on the side, “You bunch of dickheads”.

We knew we were in for a tough time at Canungra. It was talked about far and wide as a particularly hard and demanding 3 weeks. Almost all personnel posted to Viet Nam had to complete the Battle Efficiency (BE) course at the Jungle Training Centre (JTC), as it was then known. We had heard a rumour that the US Military had sent some of its Special Forces instructors to do the course with a view to sending some of their troops over for training, but they had gone home saying it was too tough. Situated in the middle of the hilliest country in Queensland, it was ideally suited for its purpose. It had near vertical mountainsides, tropical jungle, rivers, creeks, lots of mosquitoes and snakes and some very professional instructors. I think to a man they had all served at least one or two tours. It was very comforting to know that these boys were not teaching just from a text book. They had been there and survived, and when they spoke, we listened. From memory there were about 90 on our course. Our day began with us getting roused out of our tents just before sunrise and it was straight into a nice little morning run, in typical Army fashion - neatly fallen in, keeping in step and wearing ruddy big clod-hopping Army boots. After a quick shower and what was the Pongo's excuse for breakfast, it was straight into the day's sadistic training program. Numerous field classes were held so that we could go from the theory straight to the practical. Regular Infantry troops would give demonstrations prior to us practising the real thing. In Canungra they didn't play games. While we were practising the skills of Fire and Movement, they were actually firing live ammunition just over our heads from an old water cooled Vickers machine gun. They told us it was to encourage us to keep our heads down. We didn't need much reminding after that. We spent a lot of time patrolling and learning how to stay alive army style, day and night. On the occasional rare night that we were in the main camp, evening lectures were the norm with updated briefings direct from the war zone, VC tactics, map reading and a hundred other things that were designed to keep us alive. When we finally arrived in Viet Nam we were quite shocked to find how ignorant our Americans allies were about the country and the people they were sent to fight. We were certainly well prepared and it was a credit to the professionalism of both the Australian Navy and Army. Some US troops arrived in Viet Nam not even knowing where the hell to find the country on a map of the world.  We were split into 9 man sections with Tom McNab and I being put together. Each section consisted of two men on 'point' carrying US M16s which had the capability of being easily flipped into full automatic mode, a handy function if you were the first to make contact with the enemy. One member carried the M60 machine gun with the remainder of the section carrying SLRs. As Tom and I were the fittest, we naturally gravitated to sharing the “Gun”, day about. As it weighed about 30 pounds with a 100 round belt of ammunition, most of the Pongo's (soldiers) shied away from it. After a full day's humping an M60 along with the rest of your kit, you came to appreciate a break as point man carrying the very light M16, even though the life expectancy of this forward position was not great. Interestingly enough, the M16 was quite new to the Australian Army at that time and it turned out that our intensive weapons training with the Navy had us one jump ahead of the Pongos and the instructors actually asked us to run the training sessions for M16s once they realized our proficiency with the weapon. After two weeks of hell we were all given a day's leave in Surfer's Paradise. It was great to see that civilization still existed. The final week focused on applying our training to all-night ambushes and combined maneuvers. After many sleepless nights in the bush, the grand finale for the course was a forced march back to camp via 'Heart-break Hill'. On arrival back at camp we were put through the obstacle course for the last time. It was rumoured that one of the water pits on this course was regularly used by the Sergeants Mess as their latrine.

John Gilchrist best described the various phases of Canungra training in an article he later wrote for 'Navy News':-

“Weapons Handling -

This consists of learning the methods by which a soldier carries, strips, cleans, fires, cleans again and sleeps with the firearm which he has been issued with.

Contact and Ambush Drill (Fire and Movement) -

What to do if one is confronted by the enemy. Contrary to general belief, one does not turn and run or shout some battle cry and charge headlong into the affray. Instead the well trained soldier carries out a precise drill designed to put him and his companions into the best tactical position from which he can engage and ultimately defeat the enemy. The drill consists of everyone shouting out what he thinks has happened, running in various directions and diving headlong into the ground which can be either soft bog grass, short hard grass, small sharp stones and gravel, large blunt rocks, a variety of tropical vegetation or mud and stagnant water.

Harbour Drills -

Any similarity between the harbour which sailors have grown accustomed to entering from time to time and the JTC harbour are purely coincidental. After having marched, doubled or stalked us through miles of South East Queensland, the Platoon Commander decided that the time for relaxation had arrived. He gave a sign akin to a flight deck officer telling a Chopper pilot to start his rotor turning. The platoon of some 30 men, breathed a sigh of relief and commenced a strange ritual which finally resulted in everyone laying down in a large circle facing out, weapon at the ready waiting for the enemy to arrive. The skill required for a Platoon Commander to select a suitable site for a harbour is immense. He must select an area some 50 yards in diameter, the terrain such that Platoon headquarters, the centre of the circle, must be on level ground, well grassed and preferably under a shady tree. The remainder of the circle around the circumference of which he places his platoon in pairs must be sloping so that when the soldier faces out, his head must be lower than his feet. The ground must be covered with small stones, large boulders or ant hills, and in the obvious course of streams of rain water. It is in this harbour that troops will remain for a short period or overnight. Should the stay be overnight, the soldiers' comfort is greatly improved as he is allowed to erect his HOOCHIE, which is a six foot square of moth eaten waterproof material which he strings between two trees about two feet from the ground. Beneath this he prepares his bed, consisting of another waterproof sheet on top of which is placed a sleeping bag, best described as two ultra thin blankets covered by two almost sheer sheets of silk. All this clips together, blankets on the inside and into which the soldier crawls. Considering the amount of sleep the soldier in the field receives, I sometimes considered this to be over-complicated.

Ambushing -

This is the art of being strategically placed on the ground so as to trap an unsuspecting enemy. Once again the skill required and the thought that goes into the selection of the site is paramount. In practice, what happens is that a section is positioned on the ground, invariably at night, facing a track or road - weapons at the ready, and there you wait. You are not allowed to move, flinch, scratch, pass wind, cough or talk. This may sound easy. However consider the case of two sailors together in a mass of bushes for camouflage, the presence of flies, ants and a variety of bush animals, having marched halfway across Queensland, not had a decent meal for days to complicate matters further, not having been allowed the use of a latrine for hours. Eventually, when you least expect it, the enemy arrives. All Hell breaks loose, blank ammunition is expended in profusion all around you. You blink, allow yourself the luxury of a cough, a scratch and all the normal body functions you have been deprived of and then discover that you have forgotten to load your weapon, the enemy by now had disappeared and you had not fired a round.

Miscellaneous -

Under this heading we were taught such subjects as the Confidence course, best described as a dozen or so objects such as pools of stagnant water into which you jump, barbed wire to crawl under, mud, tunnels of wind and water to negotiate, slippery logs to walk across and a variety of obstacles crossed by ropes.

Muscle Toughening -

Designed to exercise those few muscles which the remainder of the course have not tortured.

Obstacle Course -

This is the conventional course we have all either experienced or known about.

We spent nine days of the course living in the bush. On these days one carried on his back all he could eat, wear, sleep in, on and under, drink etc.

The average day's food (24 hours) was:-

Breakfast: cup of instant coffee; one or two cereal blocks. These are best described as extremely tough.

Lunch: Cup of instant tea or coffee; a packet of biscuits (these are pre-broken and are completely devoid of taste and possess an odour akin to cardboard); a small tin of Kraft cheese.

Dinner: THIS IS THE MEAL OF THE DAY! Cup of instant tea or coffee; a selection of the following:-

Vienna Sausages - like valve rubber.

Luncheon meat.

Tuna in oil - use your imagination.

Sausages and veges - two 2” sausages, the remainder carrots.

Corned Beef ration - standard fare since World War I.

Added to this there were such things as curry powder, soup powder, instant rice (takes 10 minutes to cook), condensed milk, sugar, a 10c chocolate block, a packet of fruit drops (recently included for National Servicemen) and last but not least, six sheets of 4x4, polished one side, matt the other.

In conclusion, I feel that the main points to be learned from this course were:-

1. Do not join the Army.

2. If you do, do not become a foot soldier.

3. If you are thrown into battle, quickly become Platoon Commander, otherwise you will find survival difficult.

4. All the mountains in Australia are in the south-east of Queensland.”

When we finally departed Canungra after three very long weeks, I had decided beyond any doubt that I had made the right decision when I had joined the Navy. Our training was much harder but at least we were able to stay reasonably clean. This was the final phase of our pre-deployment training prior to pre-embarkation leave. As we sat in the airport waiting to return to Sydney, Jake made the dreaded announcement as to which of us would not be deploying with the Team. I was convinced it would be me, as Digger was most definitely going because he had trained with the previous team, Tom was a Leading Hand and outranked the three of us, and I suspected Jake had a soft spot for Blue. Much to my relief, it was to be Tom, and not me who remained behind. We all knew how he must have felt, however we were going and that was uppermost in our thoughts. It was to be a bitter disappointment for Tom as we were destined to be the last Clearance Diving team to be sent to South Viet Nam.

While at Brisbane airport awaiting our return flight to Sydney, Jake spotted the then Minister for the Navy, James Killen. Without the slightest hesitation Jake walked over and introduced 'his team' to the Minister. We were to see more of the Honourable Jim after that as he was to visit us in our humble abode in Viet Nam on Christmas Eve 1970. After the war Sir Jim graciously became the Patron of the Clearance Diving Association.

With the work-up over, we proceeded on 5 days pre-embarkation leave. We all went home with the exception of Digger. He came home with me to Adelaide. On our last night in Sydney before starting leave, there was a general farewell to the team at one of the local pubs in Cremorne with most of the Diving school showing up to wish us a safe tour. We all had a little too much to drink and once again I had my big red V8 with me. On my way home I was obviously a little heavy on the foot and after crossing the Sydney Harbour bridge heading south I was pulled over by a Policeman in a Morris Mini who said he had clocked me at 80 miles per hour down the Cahill expressway and over the bridge. He said it had taken him the length of the expressway and bridge to catch me. I thought I was in a bit of strife for a while until we told him we had just attended a final farewell prior to leaving for Viet Nam. Much to my relief he immediately backed off and said, “Piss off home via the shortest route at the speed limit and get to bed”.

At home in South Australia, Digger and I made the most of our leave. We visited my relatives in the country with the highlight, in Digger's opinion, being a visit to a relation's winery. We proceeded to taste every wine they produced, and in his less than sober state Digger complimented them by saying it was the best “brewery” he had ever been to.

We finally departed Sydney's Mascot Airport late in the evening of the 14th October 1970 aboard a chartered Qantas 707. Destination: Saigon - in friendlier times known as the “Pearl of the Orient”.

Our departure had been delayed by three or four hours due to some radio problems aboard the aircraft, so the airport bar remained open and the farewell gradually took on a party atmosphere. Once airborne our friendly Qantas crew opened the in-flight bar for their 120 or so Military passengers. The stewards found to their surprise that the majority of their passengers were more interested in sleeping than drinking. Even though it was after midnight, the Naval contingent of six Clearance Divers and one Chief Petty Officer Writer were the exception. ('Googer' Gent was returning with us on our flight to Saigon from his R&R leave in Sydney. Googer was responsible for both the Diving Team's and Helo Flight's pay and allowances in Vietnam). As Navy Divers we felt compelled to uphold the best traditions of the 'Senior Service', however we weren't quite up to the large volume of free beer on offer. By the time the aircraft landed in Darwin to refuel, we were beginning to think that sleep may have been our better option. The early morning Darwin to Singapore stage of the flight passed far too quickly for seven very tired and very hung-over sailors.

During the Viet Nam War era, the Singapore Government allowed Australian Service flights a brief stopover at their airport whilst en-route to South Viet Nam, but they insisted on keeping the visits as inconspicuous as possible because of the ever increasing public opposition to the 'War'. To remain relatively unnoticed, we had been ordered to carry a civilian shirt with us onboard the aircraft. These had to be donned prior to disembarking for breakfast in Singapore. It was quite absurd to think that 120 fit young men arriving on a Qantas flight dressed in regular Army boots, identical khaki trousers and a variety of colourful flowery shirts would fool anyone. We were instructed not to leave the confines of the airport and to ensure we complied, Military Police were stationed at strategic exit and entry points. Jake obviously thought this ruling did not apply to Naval Officers as he decided to make a surprise visit to one of his old flames in Singapore, and this was an opportunity not to be missed. Unfortunately for Jake, within minutes of his 'breaking out', we were advised over the airport's public address system that our planned two hour breakfast and fuel stopover had been shortened to one and a half hours. While we sat in the aircraft watching the ground staff preparing to remove the stairs, John Gilchrist was frantically trying to invent a plausible excuse to explain why we were now only five instead of six. At the last possible moment, we saw the stocky figure of Jake sprint from the airport terminal at a speed to behold. Another 30 seconds and it would have been too late. We could hear John muttering obscenities to himself. He didn't expect that sort of stress so early in the trip. We hadn't even arrived in the war zone and his Commanding Officer was already giving him grey hairs.

We were met at Saigon's Tan Son Nhat Airport by the Senior Australian Officer (RAN), the always smiling Commander Rang Hall. CPOCD John Dollar, the Chief of the diving team we were to relieve, had flown down from their home base in Da Nang to organize our first few days 'in-country', and arrange our subsequent movement north. After being welcomed by the U.S. Navy's Saigon based EOD team at their villa in Cholon (the old Chinese quarter of Saigon), we were completely kitted out with US gear, including Cammies and the famous and much sought after 'K-Bar' knife. We were then invited to participate in the traditional EOD welcoming ceremony which consisted of skulling a very large boot shaped glass filled to the brim with Budweiser beer. The earlier stress of Singapore had obviously affected the Chief as he alone failed to make the grade. He was obviously distracted by the thought of “what if” the Boss had missed the flight. Narra was conned into an American EOD ritual new to us all. After we had consumed several cans, one of the US Chiefs asked Narra if he was “pretty strong” and if he had heard of “the 3 man lift”. Naturally Phil hadn't, but when he confirmed in the positive regarding his strength, they knew they had him hook, line and sinker. The US Chief said one of his fellows could lift three men with one hand. Narra naturally replied “bullshit” and numerous beers were bet on the outcome. To allow the Yank EOD strongman to perform the lift, Narra was told to lie on the floor with arms and legs spread. Two Americans were to lie on either side of him with his arms under them and their legs extended over the top of his. The process was explained to Narra that he was to hold them very tight so that the US 'superman' could lift Narra by his belt with one hand, and Narra should subsequently lift the other two, thus lifting three men with one hand. After this detailed explanation, Narra was all ready to go, albeit a little suspicious. It hadn't yet occurred to him that in this position he was in effect pinned to the ground by the two big blokes on either side of him. After much ado, with the Yank standing astride Narra, deep breathing while giving instructions for him to grip the two accomplices very tightly, the lifter as quick as a flash undid Narra's belt, unzipped his fly and pulled down his trousers. The rest of the Americans, waiting in the wings and ready with copious quantities of iced water, proceeded to pour gallons of very cold water over Narra's bare crotch. It gave him such a shock that he actually lifted the two other blokes clear of the ground as he tried to struggle clear. When we had all finally stopped laughing, the Yanks announced that he was in fact “quite strong”, as he had managed to lift two 200 pounders off the ground. He was considered a worthy member of the EOD community.

Our American counterparts decided that time was not to be wasted sleeping, and we should visit the hot spots of downtown Saigon, beginning with that very infamous street of bars, 'Tu Do' Street. Larry Digney, 21 years of age and on his first trip beyond Australia's borders, did his utmost to buy every bar-girl in Tu Do Street a 'Saigon Tea' (very expensive coloured water).

The following morning, John Dollar informed us that Typhoon 'Louise' was intensifying over the Central Coast near Da Nang and we would have to remain in Saigon until it had blown over. This unexpected bonus enabled Larry to revisit Tu Do street that evening and catch up with the bar-girls he had missed the previous evening, and gave him the opportunity to buy all their sisters, mothers, daughters and cousins numerous drinks as well. It was an expensive introduction to Asia for Larry but I'm sure he thought it a very enjoyable lesson. We certainly had many laughs watching him. I managed to lose my beret in some dark and seedy bar. Most probably souvenired by a Yank. The remainder of us old 'Asia hands' kept our hands in our pockets, and the bar-girls noting this, gave us our first introduction to the infamous ditty sung by all Saigon bar-girls when referring to Australian (Uc Dai Loi) soldiers:-

“Uc Dai Loi, cheap Charlie,

He no buy me Saigon tea,

Saigon tea cost many many Pi,

Uc Dai Loi, him cheap Charlie.”

After our hectic but enjoyable few days in Saigon, we finally boarded a U.S. Airforce C-130 Hercules and headed north to a waiting reception from the team we were about to relieve. With a welcoming barbecue of spare ribs and steak complete with endless quantities of icy cold Victoria Bitter beer, we were all beginning to assume that our tour of duty was going to be somewhat of an extended round of piss-ups.

This early complacency was soon shattered rather dramatically. Within three days of our arrival in Da Nang, the new team experienced its baptism of fire. As part of the hand-over procedure, two members of the incoming team accompanied two members of the old team on a 'routine' sensor implant mission assisting a US Jungle Surveillance Group. With an ARVN unit as support, the group were to conduct the operation to the south of Da Nang, on Cam Thanh Island. A Viet Cong bunker system was soon discovered and as expected, it had been booby-trapped. A member of the Surveillance Group, keen to find a few souvenirs, triggered a booby-trapped 105mm howitzer round and sustained severe injuries to both his legs. After the detonation, the Viet Cong, who had been lying in wait, initiated their ambush and the group came under heavy small arms fire. True to form, a number of the ARVN support group dropped their weapons and departed the area rather hurriedly. During the ensuing fire-fight, LSCD John (Mumbles) Aldenhoven and ABCD 'Blue' Furner crossed open ground to recover the wounded US Adviser and carry him to relative safety, recovering several of the dropped weapons in the process. The first 'Dustoff' (Medical Evacuation) chopper attempt failed as a result of the heavy VC ground fire, but after a number of strafing passes by U.S. Cobra helicopter gunships, the second Medivac attempt succeeded. Unfortunately, the Adviser died whilst in transit to the nearest Military hospital. He had been within one week of completing his tour and going home to the States. The remainder of the team was extracted by chopper to Da Nang and John Aldenhoven was subsequently awarded the Australian Distinguished Service Medal (DSM). His Citation stated that he had “displayed personal courage of the highest order”. I clearly remember (Chief) John Dollar saying that he was only able to recommend one award for bravery. As 'Mumbles' was going home and Blue had a full tour left in which to earn an award, Mumbles was recommended. Because of the pathetic inconsistencies of the bureaucratic British modeled Australian awards system, Blue received absolutely no recognition then or since for the equal part he played in that same action.

Over the next few days, events continued to remind us that we were now smack in the middle of a war zone. On the 24th October 1970, a radio call was received from US Harbour Security informing us that a large ammunition barge, having broken adrift during Typhoon Kate and run aground on a sand bar in Da Nang harbour, appeared to have been sabotaged. Security personnel reported seeing a small but intense fire burning on the upper deck, so three members from the 'new' team were immediately dispatched to investigate. The old team having said they were “too short” (going home) to take any more risks, the task fell to the new crew. I was driving the vehicle and took several wrong turns in trying to locate the Harbour Security wharf. This series of events fortunately delayed us by several minutes. As we were climbing aboard the waiting security skimmer boat to proceed to the barge, the barge detonated in a massive blast that shook the whole of Da Nang. While watching the mushroom shaped cloud forming from the fireball, I remain convinced to this day that I saw a body soaring skywards amongst the flying debris. We were later advised that two male VC suspects from the nearby village had disappeared without trace. Had I been familiar with the most direct route to the wharf area, or had a member of the old team accompanied us, CDT3 would most certainly have lost three of its members that day. Approximately half of the 154 tonnes of mortars, rockets and projectiles on board the barge had detonated and the remaining 70 odd tonnes were 'throw-outs'. We found one intact pallet of 105mm howitzer rounds several hundred metres away from the blast.

The team had 'ARRIVED'.

The process of recovering and disposing of this ordnance kept us busy during our quiet days for the next few months.

Remains of the Ammunition barge in Da Nang harbour

Several days after the barge episode, John Gilchrist flew south to Saigon. That night, the VC saturated the area in which he was staying with 127mm and 140mm rockets. Within a week of surviving the rocket barrage, John returned south again aboard a U.S. Marine Corps DC3 to pick up, among other things, three pallets of Australian beer from Vung Tau. On their return, the aircraft suffered severe problems and diverted to Saigon. John was asked if he wished to parachute from the aircraft or risk a potentially dangerous landing. He chose to stay with the aircraft which limped to a crash landing at Tan Son Nhat Airport. Fortunately John and the crew walked away unhurt. When the news reached Da Nang that the Chief's plane had crashed, the three AB's asked in shock horror, “What about the beer?” When John finally arrived back in Da Nang, he was mumbling out loud about whether or not he should stay in bed for the remainder of our tour.

The US Marine EOD detachment at Da Nang airfield very kindly arranged a Marine DC3 on an 'as required' basis to re-supply us with Aussie beer from Vung Tau, about 650 kms to the south. The only condition to this arrangement was that we sold them one pallet of beer per trip. To the best of my recollection, there were about 84 cartons of beer to the pallet and the beer cost us 11c per can. A lot of favours could be 'arranged' with promises of Uc Dai Loi beer. Unfortunately we had to arrange our own resupply of beer as the Australian Army system was not at all concerned about 6 Navy divers in faraway Da Nang. Fortunately we were used to looking after ourselves.

A week or so after we arrived, I had what is officially known as an 'accidental discharge'. I was in our workshop cleaning my .45 when Jake wandered out from his office, saw what I was doing, pulled out his .45 and asked if I would clean it as well. It was standard procedure to clear all weapons on entering the hooch and I made the mistake of assuming Jake had done so. I removed the magazine and got the shock of my life when it discharged a round into the workbench. The bullet struck a steel punch blowing it in half, and then buried itself in the wall. Fortunately, training and habit had me pointing the weapon away in a safe direction as I began the stripping procedure. The noise was deafening and it was pretty to watch how quickly everyone responded to the sound of gunfire within the hooch. Digger mounted the spent cartridge behind the bar with the inscription 'Tony's first shot fired in anger'.

The old team had all departed for home after a fortnight and the realization that we “new” boys were on our own began to sink in. Routines were quickly established. While two members of the team remained on duty for 24 hour stretches, another two were on stand-by, and the remaining two on stand down. It is interesting to note for posterity that two Able Seamen (the lowest rank in the team) were regularly on duty together, and if a call for EOD assistance was received, the two AB's responded on their own and without 'supervision'.

This would not and could not happen in a peace-time Navy, and it speaks volumes for the responsibility, maturity and professionalism instilled into the team during its pre-deployment training, and the very high standard of Clearance Diving training in the 60's. It also shows how peacetime regulations can and need to be bent through necessity in time of war. Had we strictly adhered to Navy regulations, it would have been impossible to fulfill the role we had been sent to perform.

South Viet Nam was divided into four Military Regions which were also known as 'Corps'. We were to spend our entire tour based in I Corps. This was very fortunate from an experience point of view, as Vung Tau in III Corps, where previous teams had been based, had become relatively pacified because of the large Australian Army presence. I Corps was still regarded as 'Charlie country'. The northern limit of our area of responsibility was the DMZ and our range of operations included normal hull searches in Da Nang Harbour and an increasing number of surface EOD and 'other tasks' throughout the length and breadth of I Corps.

Our 'Hooch' was located within Camp Tien Sha, a US Naval Support Facility located on Da Nang's Tourane peninsular. Home consisted of a workshop/lounge room complete with a 16mm movie projector and pool table, a fully self contained kitchen, garage, outdoor barbecue and arguably the finest bar in South Viet Nam. The team's transportation comprised of two Jeeps, a Dodge Pickup truck, a Dodge four wheel drive 'Power Wagon', a Kaiser Jeep truck and a 16 foot 'skimmer' boat equipped with the hottest 85 horsepower outboard motor in Da Nang.

Launching our boat with the 'Kaiser'

We had a full time 'Mama San' who was a Vietnamese lady of indistinguishable age with a very limited comprehension of the English language. She attended to our personal laundry, made the beds and maintained an impression of neatness about the place. Occasionally she was encouraged to cook a Vietnamese meal which always meant liberal lashings of the local fermented fish sauce, 'Nuoc Mam', which was very tasty, but unfortunately smelt exactly like rotten fish.

The team had two able assistants, a mongrel affectionately known as 'Dog', and 'Fred', a female Rhesus monkey. Dog closely resembled a Queensland Blue Heeler cattle dog in both appearance and temperament, and was an excellent watch-dog. With the exception of our Mamma San, he would not allow an unescorted Vietnamese national within a 100 metre radius of our Hooch. I think he was aware that dog meat, or 'Cho', was a favourite dish of the Vietnamese, and as a consequence he hated them all. Fred had to be watched constantly as she had an amazing appetite. On more than one occasion she had snatched a lighted cigarette from an unsuspecting visitor, flicked off the burning ash and eaten the entire cigarette in the blink of an eye. She also had a bad habit of scrounging through the empty beer cans every morning and after drinking the dregs of several cans would become quite aggressive in her inebriated state, particularly towards poor old Dog. Her favourite party trick was to sneak up behind Dog, give his vital parts a quick tug, and then squealing with delight, head for the top of the nearest banana tree with Dog in hot pursuit. Needless to say, Dog was not a great fan of Fred.

Fred & Tony Ey  

Our team operated totally independent of Australian support. We wore U.S. 'Cammies', carried U.S. weapons, lived in a U.S. compound, drove U.S. vehicles, ate U.S. food and were officially known as EODMUPAC Team 35. We answered directly to a Captain M. A. Horn USN. The only other Australians in I Corp were the Australian Army Training Team (AATTV) and we saw little of them. We mostly associated with other EOD units and US Special Forces including Green Berets, Navy Seals and Underwater Demolition Teams (UDT). Most US Forces assumed that we were in fact the Australian equivalent of their Seal Teams. We had a lot to do with these fellows and it is interesting to recall their motto:-

“Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death,

I fear no evil, for I am the meanest mutha-fucker in the Valley.”

Being the only fully operational Navy EOD team in I Corps, we had a large area of responsibility. The Air force and Marine teams looked after the Da Nang airfield and the Army team was responsible for Da Nang City. We virtually had the rest of I Corp. A South Vietnamese Navy team, under the guidance of four U.S. Navy EOD Advisers, was responsible for Cua Viet, located near the DMZ. However this team was relatively ineffective due to its low level of competence and difficulty in retaining personnel. Vietnamese team members would disappear without trace for weeks at a time without explanation and reappear when it suited them. We would not have been surprised if they were part-time VC. When we first arrived they were using our hooch as a transit centre. After Narra had some money disappear, Jake changed the rules and they stayed elsewhere. The U.S. Advisers rotated in pairs between Cua Viet and Da Nang. Most of their off time was spent at our 'hooch'. One of these Advisers, W.O. Gerry Dunn was quite an odd personality. He would spend his spare time (and he seemed to have a lot of it) reading paperback Westerns with a cigarette in one hand, alternating between sips of hot coffee and cold beer, and carry on a conversation, all without ever lifting his eyes from his 'yippee' book.

Jake became a particularly close friend of the Boss of the Marine EOD team and we consequently spent some quiet times socializing at their hooch. I have crystal clear memories of these two connoisseurs standing at the bar smoking huge American cigars and drinking generous helpings of Chivas Regal whiskey. Another frequent visitor to this mess was a US Marine Padre who had a very puzzling approach to what was normally expected of a 'man of the cloth'. His steady stream of foul language was disconcerting to say the least and I believe even our Instructor Sergeant from Canungra would have been embarrassed by this man's constant use of four-letter words. The war certainly affected different people in different ways.

Team members took every opportunity to gain additional experience by working with other EOD units. We all rotated through Cua Viet, a very busy place indeed, being the last friendly outpost south of the DMZ. 'Birdcage' mines were a constant threat in the Cua Viet River with both civilian and military craft being sunk regularly with considerable loss of life. During December 1970, five Birdcage mines were recovered and 22 NVA/VC Sapper swimmers were killed in one operation. Sleep was always hard to come by at night because of the constant outgoing 81mm mortar rounds.

The trip north to Cua Viet was particularly interesting as the road passed through the ancient Vietnamese capital of Hue. During the Communist's 'Tet' (Lunar New Year) offensive of February 1968, Hue, surrounded by an ancient citadel and located on the Perfume River, was overrun and held by North Vietnamese troops and local VC for 26 days, before being recaptured by U.S. Forces. It has been stated by the Americans that during this period, approximately 5,800 civilians, including a multi-national medical team, were executed in reprisals by the Communist troops.

Further north, beyond Hue and Quang Tri, the road to Cua Viet became a very rough bush track meandering through small villages, rice paddies and finally sand dunes. This was a journey which we would undertake only during daylight hours due to the constant threat of ambush. During one trip, Jake was actually fired upon by ARVN troops in broad daylight. Choppers became our preferred means of transport.

Other detachments included Phil and Larry spending time with the U.S. Air force EOD team at Da Nang airfield, Speed with our friends at Marine EOD and Larry, Blue and I with the U.S. Navy EOD team in Cam Ranh Bay. This superb harbour proved to be quite a different operation from Da Nang. During the day, the team played beach volleyball, followed by an afternoon of diving for lobster, which we barbecued fresh that evening for dinner. At night, we conducted boat patrols during the curfew hours to try and catch small boats running VC and weapons around the Bay. Heavily armed, and using Starlight scopes, we ambushed angry little people dressed in black pajamas. On one of those night rides I was to discover first hand and up close that not all VC were adult males. I am haunted to this day by that night.

As the sun was rising it was usual to pull into one of the 'bars' on the beach for breakfast and a few beers before heading back to bed. A vivid memory of their hooch was the massive python snake they kept as a pet. It lived in their darkened pantry and was fed about once a month. The Yanks would just throw a live duck into the pantry and close the door. The U.S. Navy also had a secret Dolphin training program in Cam Ranh Bay where EOD divers taught Dolphins to attack underwater swimmers and recover ordnance from the seabed.

Another interesting deployment for me was with the 51st ARVN Regiment in Quang Nam Province, north west of Da Nang. This unit had an Australian Army Training Team Adviser, WO2 Vic Pennington, who at that time was based in an old triangular shaped French built fort located on the high ground above the village of Dai Loc. Several large units of NVA regulars were dug in on the nearby ridge-line and one night with beer in hand, I clearly recall relaxing with Vic watching a firefight with the resultant tracer rounds cris-crossing the surrounding countryside. Only days prior to my arrival in Dai Loc, an American Adviser to the 51st had stopped his jeep on the outskirts of the village after a group of children had flagged him down to scrounge cigarettes and candy. While he was obliging with the candy, one of the children threw a hand grenade into the back of the vehicle, killing him and his South Vietnamese counterpart. The burnt out wreck of his vehicle served as a grim reminder that not all VC wore black pajamas and carried AK47's. This part of I Corps was referred to by the Advisers, rather sarcastically, as 'Marlboro country'.

Most of our calls for diving assistance came between the hours of midnight and 3 am, usually after a sentry had reported swimmers or intruders at the nearby Deep Water ammunition piers. We had to respond immediately to all calls, and many turned out to be false alarms. False alarm or not, it is an indescribably eerie and lonely feeling to be searching a ship in the middle of the night with the knowledge that it contains around 9,000 tonnes of high explosives, and that a fanatically dedicated saboteur has recently been onboard.

We all participated in the R&R program and with the exception of Jake we all returned to Sydney for our short break.

I could see a major change had taken place in my Team mates. The 'newness' and perhaps initial apprehension that we had all felt in the first few days and weeks in the war zone, had long been replaced by a  total confidence in our own abilities and in each other. We had all confronted and dealt with a diversity of hazardous situations and in so doing had molded into a tight and highly professional team. There was no sign of complacency, just a growing trust in our training, in each other and our ability to do the job.

In all probability, none of us realized at that time that we were a living part of history; in fact we were making history. We were Australian Navy Clearance Divers and this was a unique chapter in the annals of Clearance Diving. Our deeds and accomplishments would impact on the future direction of the Branch and create a legacy for those who would follow in our footsteps.

We did realize however, that we were extremely fortunate to be members of CDT3. Others may have felt they didn't want to be involved in this war, but we recognised that for us, this was the continuation of what our fathers and grandfathers had fought for. We were doing what we believed in and had trained for. We were following in their footsteps and very proud of the traditions and sacrifices they had made. As someone had once said, "for evil to triumph, good men need do nothing” and it didn't take long for us to realize that Communism was evil.

That aside, we were enjoying the hell out of it. When confronted by life threatening situations, there is a rush of adrenalin, and it is addictive. Not until later years were we to look back and understand that this period was the apex of our young lives. Never again would we experience the surges of adrenalin, the camaraderie, the feeling of being totally alive and in complete touch with our inner characters.

A memorable call occurred on my first night back from R&R. It was a black moonless night and a local watch-tower sentry had reported seeing silhouettes and movement prior to hearing explosions on a Da Nang beach. Creeping warily along the beach, long after the event, in almost complete darkness, Jake and I could not understand the constant squelching feeling underfoot. Having found nothing, we returned to the lights of our vehicle and examined our boots to discover the reason for the mushy texture of the beach sand. The nearby village used that particular section of the beach as their latrine and relied on the incoming tide to dispose of it. We had unfortunately arrived before the tide. The cause of the explosions remained a mystery. Probably some  Yank high on dope playing games with hand grenades.

Our home became the most famous EOD Hooch in South Viet Nam, as our hospitality extended to all EOD teams from all four U.S. services and our door was always open to U.S. Navy UDT and SEAL teams. Large stocks of Victoria Bitter beer contributed to our reputation and an invitation to stop over with the 'Aussie Divers' for a few days became much sought after. A sign over our bar announced our extremely liberal 'Bar Hours':-

Saturday AM - 2359

Sunday AM - 2300

Occasionally, when a visitor had worn out his welcome, Narra changed these hours at extremely short notice. Visiting USO tours, some of them Australians, usually managed to find their way to our hooch to freeload a few beers and a meal. During our tour, the team was visited by many, but one of the most memorable visits was on Christmas Eve 1970, by the then Minister for the Navy, the Right Honourable Jim Killen whom we had last seen at Coolangatta airport. The Minister succumbed to our warm hospitality and having failed to take advantage of the bed we had offered, left us on Christmas Day with his well known sense of humour still intact but looking somewhat worse for wear.

Our tasks varied from dealing with booby traps through to major salvage operations. During the typhoon season in November 1970, a U.S. Army YFU carrying 150 tonnes of 81mm and 105mm White Phosphorus shells had capsized off the coast to the north of Da Nang and was driven ashore on a remote section of beach near the village of Tan My. Four team members along with U.S. Army Divers and a U.S. Navy Salvage team, all under Jake's command, were immediately flown to the site aboard CH47 Chinook helicopters to commence salvage efforts. Sadly, none of the eleven YFU crew members had survived. Conditions were atrocious with typhoon 'Patsy' still in full force. After numerous attempts in high surf conditions, tow lines were finally attached and passed to Naval tugs standing offshore. Repeated efforts to tow the craft to seaward were finally abandoned in favour of attempting to drag it further up the beach using bull dozers and tank retrievers. This too failed, so a ramp of sand was built by the dozers to afford easier access to the hull. With the weather abating, the hull was opened and the ordnance removed, and I'm sure to this day, the wreck remains, embedded in the sands of Tan My. I have a vivid memory of this task when after several days on site, we radioed for a re-supply of drinking water and rations. When the chopper landed, it was loaded with C rations and cases of warm Budweiser beer. When we asked, “Where's the water?”, the crew Chief replied with a smile, “We heard you guys needed a drink”. Warm beer and cold C rations on a miserably wet day are a little tough on one's digestive system.

Feeling sorry for us, a friendly US Army Tank crew offered a couple of us a ride back to their base for a shower and a hot meal. Riding atop a monstrous Main Battle Tank thundering along narrow bush tracks, hanging on for life and limb while trying to dodge tree branches at every turn was quite a hair-raising experience. The tracks were about half the width required for the tank to pass and as all tracks led through villages, it created a problem, although this did not deter the driver. He managed to avoid most of the huts and chicken coops on his side of the 50 tonne monster, but flattened everything on his offside. My observation to Digger was “If we ever have to come back through these villages again Mate, we're dead”. As Murphy's Law would have it, the track eventually petered out to a path that was too narrow, even for this would be rally driver, so we had no alternative but to turn around and head back the way we had come in. On the return trip he managed to flatten everything he had missed on his first pass. Luckily for us, he drove at about twice the speed, and no-one expected us to be foolish enough to return. By the time we arrived back at the beach, we were quite content to eat cold C rations and forget about the hot shower, even though the tanky insisted he knew another 'shortcut' to the base. We suggested that he find it without us. One evening a Negro gunner on another tank decided to test fire his .50 calibre machine gun. He didn't think it was necessary to tell anyone and unfortunately Jake just happened to be below and slightly in front of the weapon when this dickhead cut loose. The noise and blast shock from a 50 cal is rather severe to say the least. By the time Jake had finished with the happy shooter, he was under no illusion as to the error of his ways and where the final resting place of his weapon would be if he ever did it again. Not only did the idiot nearly burst Jake's eardrums, he put everyone unnecessarily on full alert as we assumed we were under attack.

Our eventual return to Da Nang was aboard a Chinook during a heavy morning sea fog. The pilots had to remain visual so we headed west at treetop level at about 100 knots through the swirling mist. I sat behind the pilots enjoying the low flying immensely. Eventually we found Highway One, turned left and followed it home.

The following official 'Summary of Salvage Operations in Military Region One during the period 10 Oct. - 21 Nov. 1970' was reported by Captain M. A. Horn, Commander US Naval Support Facility (NSF) DaNang:

“During the period 10 Oct to 21 Nov 1970, the US NSF DaNang was involved in several salvage operations which required extensive coordination of Army as well as Navy assets, and which demanded the dedicated and courageous efforts of many US Navy, US Army and Royal Australian Navy personnel. These salvage operation responsibilities were in addition to the normal mission requirements of the US NSF, DaNang and were completed only through the exceptional efforts and devotion to duty of many individuals.

On 10 Oct 1970, the Vietnamese Navy MSC 116 went aground on an isolated beach just south of the mouth of the Cua Viet River. The USS DELIVER arrived on scene and commenced initial recovery efforts the same day. Two days later, upon being assigned as area support coordinator for the MSC 116 salvage operations, the Commanding Officer, US NSF, DaNang, immediately inspected the salvage site and began making arrangements for a coordinated salvage effort using all available US and Vietnamese Army and Navy resources. Eventually a salvage force was assembled which included NSF DaNang work forces and diving barge, USS DELIVER, USS COHOES, USS CONSERVER, and Army CH-47 and CH-54 helicopters. Two Army tank retrievers were obtained from the US Army at Dong Ha and delivered to the site. Units of Vietnamese Navy Coastal Group MID 92 also participated, and the 1st ARVN Division contributed a bulldozer, crane and security forces. Heavy surf and seas made the entire salvage operations dangerous as well as difficult. The USS DELIVER workboat had capsized outboard of the MSC 116 the first day, obstructing salvage efforts until it was removed. A unique combination of a CH-47 helicopter, a CH-54 sky crane and a tank retriever were used to move the craft from deep water to the beach. The salvage of the workboat and its return to USS DELIVER in good condition represented a monetary savings of approximately $37,000. The passage of two typhoons during the period 16-25 October, twice forced the temporary suspension of recovery efforts and eventually rendered the MSC 116 unsalvageable. However, during the period 12 Oct to 3 Nov under the direction and coordinating efforts of the Commanding Officer, US NSF, and by the untiring efforts, bravery and devotion to duty of salvage team personnel, all salvageable machinery, equipage, equipments and material were recovered from the grounded ship under the most adverse conditions.

Three other salvage operations were also conducted in the DaNang harbor area by Commanding Officer, US NSF, DaNang while the MSC 116 recovery effort was underway. During the passage of Typhoon JOAN on 16 Oct 1970, the Vietnamese Navy PCE 12 dragged anchor and grounded in DaNang Harbor. Commanding Officer, US NSF, as on-scene Commander, director of salvage operations and salvage support coordinator, assembled a salvage force. Using LCM-8's, pusherboats, US Army tugs, and with the USS COHOES standing by, the PCE 12 was successfully salvaged on 17 October, less than 48 hours after being reported aground.

On 25 Oct 1970, Typhoon KATE tore six US Army contract barges loose from their moorings in DaNang Harbor, one of which, loaded with ammunition, exploded and scattered munitions throughout the inner harbor area. Using US NSF personnel, equipment and craft and assisted by US Army Support Command pusher boats, three of the remaining five barges were recovered and returned to safe moorings by 26 Oct 1970.

On 30 Oct 1970, the swollen debris filled DaNang River, with a 14 knot current, forced the German Hospital Ship HELGOLAND aground near the mouth of the river. Commanding Officer, US NSF boarded the stricken ship, surveyed the situation and after receiving the concurrence of HELGOLAND's Captain, assumed the responsibilities of on-scene commander of salvage operations. A water depth survey in  the vicinity of HELGOLAND was completed, equipment's and material were readied and plans were made for extraction as soon as the swollen river and swift currents permitted. The timing of the extraction effort was critical; tugs had to be positioned as soon as the river current subsided to eight knots, but before the river level receded and left HELGOLAND more firmly aground. Four tugs were brought in on schedule and hooked in tandem to one tow line attached to HELGOLAND's stern.. Radio was used to coordinate all evolutions and to insure that the towing, deballasting and use of HELGOLAND's propellers properly maximised the salvage efforts. The swirling, treacherous current demanded expert seamanship to prevent HELGOLAND from being swept against the breakwater directly downstream from her position. Salvage team personnel met the challenge and their coordinated efforts pulled HELGOLAND clear, narrowly avoiding collisions on three occasions and safely anchoring HELGOLAND on 1 Nov 1970. In each of the recovery operations conducted in DaNang Harbor, the rapid professional response, the untiring efforts of all personnel, and the close cooperation exhibited by US Navy and US Army personnel, in the face of extremely hazardous weather and sea conditions, were directly responsible for the success of these salvage efforts.

On 3 Nov 1970, as the MSC 116 salvage operation was drawing to a close, NSF personnel, returning by helicopter to DaNang, observed an overturned YFU grounded near shore off Tan My. US Army Support Command, DaNang confirmed that YFU-63 and its crew were missing and requested the assistance of Commanding Officer, US NSF, DaNang. An initial investigation of YFU-63 on 4 November indicated there was no possibility that any of the eleven crew members were trapped alive in the compartments. Commander Seventh Fleet was requested to provide a salvage ship and salvage operations began on 5 November with the assistance of USS COHOES, a large fleet tug, a NSF diving barge, many salvage personnel, perimeter security forces, and much equipment, such as air compressors, pneumatic tools, cutting torches, tow wires and heavy lines. Efforts to pull YFU-63 off the beach and to right her were severely hampered by adverse weather and heavy surf conditions. Nevertheless a helicopter, two tank retrievers and two bulldozers were added to the salvage forces and efforts to recover the craft continued until 15 November when, after Herculean efforts to refloat or par buckle YFU-63 were unsuccessful, it was necessary to cut into the hull to remove ammunition and other material and to search for bodies of crewman who might have been trapped in compartments. In spite of heavy seas constantly breaking over YFU-63 and perilous diving conditions, the salvage team recovered the ship's engineering log, quartermaster's notebook and other documents but discovered no bodies. On 21 Nov 1970, with a tropical storm imminent, Commanding Officer, US NSF, DaNang determined further salvage efforts were no longer feasible and terminated the operation.

Throughout the period of 10 Oct to 21 Nov 1970, unusually severe weather conditions posed a constant threat to all salvage operation personnel. What would, even under the best of conditions, be difficult became extremely hazardous and complicated by high winds and seas, swift currents heavy surf and near-constant rain. Under these conditions exceptional performance and acts of personal courage were commonplace. These individual efforts and the close coordination of air, sea and land units from different commands and countries made it possible to save millions of dollars of assets without loss of life or injury to any salvage team personnel. The professionalism, self sacrifice, initiative and devotion to duty exhibited under these hazardous conditions were in keeping with the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service”.

This report is interesting to read because it gives an insight into the way official military reports are written, i.e. - to make the Commanding Officer look extremely professional and competent, thus enhancing his future career prospects.

Phil Narramore and I had an interesting experience when a U.S. Army Air Cavalry unit requested our assistance. Based near Phu Bai, they reported losing a Helicopter Gunship during one of their recent mission and it was presumed to have crashed into a shallow waterway in VC country, as a returning crew had sighted part of a rotor blade protruding from the muddy water. We arrived at the scene by chopper in company with U.S. Army Rangers who immediately set up our security perimeter. Another chopper circled overhead keeping a sharp eye out for our old friend 'Charlie'. Narra 'pulled rank' so I had to do the dive while he supervised. My first priority was to recover the bodies of the crew, and then any ordnance or weapons. Diving inside a mangled helicopter searching for bodies, weapons and armed ordnance in zero visibility, is not what you would describe as pleasant. The aluminium hull was extensively damaged with many sharp edges and I was very aware that it would be extremely easy to become entangled inside the wreckage. We only had one set of air cylinders and I was wearing them, so Narra could not come and get me out. I was diving in what was literally liquid mud and it was as black as a goat's guts. The complete lack of visibility meant that I had to rely on feel alone. When I found what I thought to be the cockpit, I couldn't work out why there were no bodies. Having searched the aircraft reasonably thoroughly, I brought to the surface various bits and pieces. It turned out it was not their chopper, but a gunship that was eventually identified as one which went missing during the Tet Offensive of 1968, approximately 3 years earlier. That explained why I could not find the crew. After that length of time there would have only been bones. I often wonder if their remains were ever repatriated to the US. When I emerged from the water I was disgusted to see that I had a dozen or so slimy leeches feeding on me.

Back at their base camp, our U.S. Army Rangers buddies had us join them in their ongoing 'rappelling' training. We also had a couple of drinking sessions with the Air Cav pilots, an interesting experience because the average age of these young and very gung-ho gunship pilots was about nineteen - 2 or 3 years younger than me. As a unit of the US Cavalry, their dress uniform still included hats identical to the ones worn in General Custer's day. They were kept on a hat rack at the entrance to their bar and when a pilot was killed, his buddies would take his hat from the rack, place it on the bar, solemnly toast his memory and proceed to get drunk, trying not to dwell on the fact that it could have been any one of them, or that they may be next.

The highlight of my stay with the Air Cav was a hands-on flight in the front seat of a Huey Cobra helicopter gunship, a very formidable weapons platform indeed. Its arsenal included 2.75 inch rockets with high explosives heads, white phosphorus heads and Fleshette heads, a 7.62mm mini gun with a rate of fire of 6,000 rounds a minute, and a belt fed 40mm grenade launcher. This particular unit's aircraft inventory consisted of 6 Iroquois (Hueys, or Slicks), 6 Cobra gunships (Snakes) and 6 Hughes 500s (Loachs). As the VC could never resist the temptation to fire at a chopper flying low overhead, the Loachs were paired with the Cobras for what were called “First and last light missions”. With only the pilot aboard, the Loach would be flown at treetop level over Charlie country attempting to draw fire, usually successfully. At the first sign of hostile fire, the pilot would toss a smoke grenade out the door and haul arse away from the area at best possible speed while radioing to the waiting Cobra above “taking fire (colour) smoke”. The Cobra, hovering at 2000 feet or so, would immediately enter a maneuver where it rolled onto its side, dropped the nose to almost the vertical and began a steep powered descent at about 200 knots towards the position marked by the coloured smoke, with mini gun blazing and belching rockets from its stubby wing pods and spitting grenades from its belt fed launcher. Nothing could survive this mini Blitzkrieg. Charlie never seemed to catch on to the set-up and continued to regularly take the bait. The downside was that it was extremely dangerous flying for the Loach pilots. They told us that if they managed to survive 'first and last light missions' for six months, their chances of surviving Viet Nam and getting home were “looking good”. The amazing thing about these young pilots was their 'gung ho' attitude. They thought themselves bulletproof - in retrospect, I believe we all did. The extreme maneuverability of the Loach was demonstrated to us when one evening Narra and I spent an evening playing fox and hounds with several other Air Cav choppers, low flying at max speed, chasing each other through the gullies of nearby sandhills - an ideal way to relieve the tension of flying for your life every day of the week. Before we left, Narra presented the C.O. with a pair of Australian made GP 'Seal' boots. Sadly, only a few days after we returned to Da Nang, we were advised that the C.O. was killed when the chopper he was flying took a direct hit on the pilot's position from an RPG. He was wearing Narra's boots when he died.

Occasionally our calls for assistance were closer to home. Located directly across the road from our hooch was the local Navy lock-up known as 'Correctional Custody'. They once asked for our help after an unhappy ex-inmate had returned to toss a hand grenade through the front door. Luckily for them, it had dud-fired. A simple 'pick up and carry away'.

Our old Kaiser Jeep had a rough time of it. To my knowledge it was the only vehicle in Viet Nam to ever be shot at from within. Larry Digney and a U.S. Navy EOD Adviser, PO3 Rick Watkins were once driving through the town of Quang Tri on their way north to Cua Viet when Digger carried out some unintentional target practice on the door of the Kaiser with Rick's sawn off M2 Carbine. Needless to say, Digger was right on target. By the time the story filtered back to Da Nang, Digger had supposedly rampaged through the main street of Quang Tri shooting at the local civilians with a Soviet AK47 assault rifle. Jake was not at all impressed. Digger did in fact have a captured AK47 which he had meticulously restored to mint condition. Unfortunately he was not able to bring it home due to Australian Customs regulations forbidding the importation of automatic weapons.

A more serious incident occurred when Digger's Colt .45 handgun disappeared from the hooch. At the time we had two or three South Vietnamese Navy EOD personnel staying with us. One of these 'gentlemen' was later arrested in downtown Da Nang after he had shot a Vietnamese civilian during an argument. The weapon he had used was traced by serial number and found to be Digger's missing .45. This same weapon had a second chance at notoriety when after a night of steady boozing at the nearby Special Forces camp, Digger and WO Gerry Dunn had a slight altercation over an overweight and particularly loud German female entertainer who was performing at the camp's Club. She announced in a very guttural German accent that she was from Australia and when Gerry Dunn, who obviously fancied her, invited her over to our table, the trouble began. Digger was feeling a little argumentative and when she repeated that she was from Australia, Digger said in a loud clear voice, “Pig's arse”. This obviously did not help Gerry's perceived chances of a romantic evening with the lady so he ordered Digger to leave the premises without delay. Digger replied by telling Gerry to “Piss off”, so they immediately invited each other outside to chat about their difference of opinion. As we all left the premises our sidearms were returned to us and during the ensuing argument which followed, Digger decided that his Colt 45 'Peacemaker' was the best way to resolve the argument. Fortunately I was close enough to prevent him from carrying out his objective and common sense finally prevailed before anyone was hurt in the looming showdown. Gerry, having missed the opportunity for a romantic interlude with the fat Kraut entertainer, made a beeline back to our hooch where he made demands to a very sleepy Jake that severe and immediate disciplinary action be taken against our Able Seaman Digney. As I was the main witness, Jake had me recount my unbiased view of the evening's events. Obviously my recollection of the incident favoured my old mate Digger and not the obnoxious WO, so I became the latest addition to Gerry's 'arsehole's list'. Digger didn't get off quite scot-free and spent quite a bit of time on stoppage of grog from that point on.

One wet, dark and miserable night during the typhoon season, Blue and I decided to make a spontaneous social call to the U.S. Army EOD detachment in downtown Da Nang. When it came time to leave in the early hours of the morning, we discovered that it was just as wet and miserable inside our Dodge Power wagon as it was outside. Some enterprising local had decided that he had a better use for our windscreen than we did. It wasn't a complete loss as the can opener which the thief had used to remove the windscreen was left on the dashboard. On returning to our hooch, we found 'Murphy's Law' had struck yet again. As always happened when the weather was at its worst, VC Sapper swimmers had been spotted at the Deep Water ammunition piers and Digger and Narra had been diving for most of the night by the time we returned. Needless to say, Blue and I spent what was left of that long night searching ship's hulls and anchor cables for explosive devices. I believe 32 hulls was the final count. A sobering experience for both of us. As we had overlooked informing Jake as to our intended whereabouts that evening, our social life was severely restricted for the following two weeks.

Even though an after dark curfew applied to all US servicemen in Da Nang, there still existed the odd hotel, bar and dance hall which stayed open for civilians and ARVN soldiers. As EOD personnel, we were authorized by the US Command to be anywhere at anytime, provided we were 'on the job'. To ensure that American troops complied with the curfew, their Military Police regularly patrolled the streets and the less than desirable spots of Da Nang. We were often pulled over by these clowns, not surprising as we were Caucasian, wore US Cammies and drove US Jeeps. The fact that we were Australians was usually enough to totally confuse them, but to save any argument we always carried a few dummy rocket heads in the vehicle. Once we had told them it was live ordnance they couldn't get away fast enough.

One night Speed, Narra, Blue and I were leaving a hotel bar and as we walked towards our Jeep in the parking compound, we spotted several 'White Mice' hassling a young girl. She was very distraught and very frightened. Being Aussies, we decided to go to the aid of the damsel in distress. When we asked the police what was going on, they told us in very threatening and impolite terms that it was police business and we should leave before we were in trouble as well. We knew that it was common practice for these 'official' thugs to arrest young girls off the street on some ludicrous charge, take them back to the police station and gang-rape them. Discretion being the better part of valour, we quietly backed off and headed for our vehicle from where we watched one of them force the girl onto the back of his motorcycle and take off, heading for the station. His mates remained, presumably to round up a few more young girls. With the lights of our vehicle switched off, we tucked in about 50 metres behind the motorcycle and followed until we were well clear of the hotel area. Speed was driving and once we reached a deserted street, he accelerated past the bike cutting it off and forcing it into the gutter. The policeman immediately began screaming obscenities at us and making threats. Believing he had the upper hand, he reached for his .38 handgun, but before it cleared his holster he was staring down the barrels of four cocked Colt .45s, all of which had 'one up the spout' and were aimed directly at a spot between the mongrel's eyes. I believe his bowels let go at that point, as with some justification, it dawned on him that he was about to join his illustrious ancestors. I have no hesitation in saying that if he had moved so much as a hair, four 45s would have barked as one. In hindsight we were probably hoping he would move, as we really despised these corrupt and totally evil little bastards. We told the young lady to get into the Jeep and suggested to the police officer that he 'di di mau' (leave very quickly). Needless to say he took off like a cut snake. As we were quite close to the US Army's EOD compound we stopped in for a beer and after explaining what had happened, we left the girl in their able care. Their parting comment was “crazy fucking Aussies”. We were to discover later that our damsel in distress was a member of the 'oldest profession in the world'. After we had departed, she offered her services to the blokes at Army EOD. I don't believe they were even offered a discount. We had a bit of a chuckle about it, but we still felt we had done the right thing.

On another occasion we were drinking in an area known as 'Red Beach' where there were several houses of ill-repute as well as a few small bars. Our Jeep was parked outside one of these and it obviously attracted the attention of some passing US Military Police. As quick as a flash, Speed was outside and went straight on the offensive. He asked the officer in charge what the hell did he think he was doing there. Didn't he “know that booby traps have been reported in this area”. Speed told the young officer that he was in charge of a delicate clearance operation and he (the MP) had better get his men and vehicles clear of the area “now”. Thrown by the Aussie accent as well as Speed's confident air of authority and unfamiliar rank badges, the MP officer stuttered and stammered, apologized profusely while addressing Speed as “sir”, saluted smartly and ordered his men to “get your butts outa here”. We finished our beers and thought it might be a wise decision for us to leave before the young officer recovered sufficiently to check our story. Several weeks later Digger was back in the same area with a Yank mate and had consumed enough 'Dutch courage' to attempt the same con. Being a little under the weather and only 21 years of age, his gibbering line of bullshit fell on disbelieving ears. Later that night Jake received a phone call advising him that a young Australian sailor by the name of Digney was being detained in custody and would we like to come and claim him at our convenience. Jake let him suffer the indignity for a few more hours before being rescued.

Blue, Digger and I kept an assortment of U.S. Officer's collar devices, and occasionally for a change of pace, we three would promote ourselves to 1st Lieutenants or Captains, and visit an Officer's mess on one of the nearby US bases. One night our accents gave us away and to absolve our sins, we were asked to mount the stage and sing 'Waltzing Matilda'. After the first verse, there was a deathly silence as we looked at each other hoping someone remembered the second verse. We didn't, so we launched into the first verse again. The Yanks didn't know the difference, and loved it. We were welcome to go back anytime, with or without the collar devices.

We inherited a kangaroo stencil from the previous team and by the time we left, there was hardly an EOD vehicle in Da Nang that did not have several large red kangaroos painted all over it. To the EOD community, it became something of a status symbol and we were often asked to spray their vehicles with the famous Aussie's likeness.

Digger became an avid collector of rank badges and unit patches. On one occasion upon meeting a very senior U.S. Admiral, a very junior Able Seaman Digney, without hesitation, informed him he “collected” collar devices and needed an Admiral's badge for his collection. To everyone's surprise, the Admiral obliged and to my knowledge, a large part of Digger's collection remains on display to this day in the Diving School at HMAS Penguin in Sydney.

During our quieter periods, we all assumed responsibility for various housekeeping tasks. Narra looked after the bar, Digger maintained the diving equipment, Blue took care of the victualling and I kept up the vehicles and the boat. Blue became a close friend of the on-base Chief Victualler so there was no shortage of prime U.S. beef, ribs, flavoured milk, dehydrated prawns and canned Pacific oysters. We were very fortunate in one respect to go to war with the Americans as they spared no expense to look after their 'boys in uniform'.

Our formidable private weapons arsenal included personal Colt .45 calibre handguns, 5.56mm M16's, 40mm grenade launchers, a 7.62mm M60 Heavy machine-gun, CAR15's and a various assortment of captured weapons including Digger's infamous 7.62mm Soviet AK47 assault rifle. We did not leave our hooch without a .45 strapped to our side and whenever we left the camp we carried at least one 'long' weapon each, generally an M16 with 30 round magazines. Had the North Vietnamese Army marched into town during 1970-71, we were ready, or at least we thought we were.

One non EOD American with whom we became firm friends was Petty Officer 1st Class Roger Smiley, a Navy Seabee. During some quieter moments Roger helped me to fulfill a boyhood ambition. He was a heavy equipment instructor and he taught me to operate a Caterpillar D-8 bulldozer at a local quarry. After completing his tour of duty in Viet Nam, Roger intended to emigrate to Australia. Unfortunately we lost contact with him after our return home.

One of our sadder moments was the day we discovered Fred's body. Her appetite had been her undoing. Unbeknown to us, rat poison had been laid amongst some banana palms nearby and Fred could not resist eating anything which appeared edible. Jake reported in the December 'Monthly Report of Proceedings' that “WRAN EOD FRED” had passed away on active duty.

We buried her in our backyard with a suitable headstone over her grave. It read:-

“Here lies Fred,

the Meanest Monkey in the Valley

R.I.P.”

Not all EOD tasks were completed. On the 11th January, three team members were uplifted by chopper to the village of Loc Phuoc. A 500 pound Low Drag General Purpose bomb had been found by a farmer, not 50 metres from his village. He and his water buffalo had uncovered it whilst ploughing a rice paddy in preparation for planting. We decided we had two options - attempt a Low Order (partial or incomplete detonation), or try to render it safe. The first option put the village at risk, if in fact we had a High Order (normal or complete detonation), and the second option put both the village and us at risk. An interesting sideline to this situation was that had we had a High Order detonation and damaged property in the 'vill' we would be held personally responsible for the damage and be required by the South Vietnamese Authorities to pay compensation to the villagers. Incredible in a war zone, but nevertheless, a fact of life. After this was pointed out to us by a local District official, a third option emerged. We left the bomb where it was and told the official to contact the nearest ARVN EOD team. We weren't going to put up with that sort of bullshit. On departing the area for Hoi An, our chopper was diverted at the request of the 51st ARVN Regiment Advisors to take part in troop lifts and gunship operations against a group of VC caught in the open. The results of this action were 1 VC KIA and 1 VC POW. Lt Linton, POCD Narramore & ABCD Ey made up the team for this operation.

One of the many fascinations I found in Viet Nam was the blending of the Vietnamese culture with a French/Catholic influence. Throughout the countryside were reminders of the French presence. Schools, churches and government buildings had the unmistakable imprint of French colonialism. There was a certain subdued elegance in some of the people and their towns. I was always amazed to see young Vietnamese schoolgirls heading off to school along the muddy roads, immaculately dressed in their beautiful white silk national dress, the 'Ao Dai'. Another legacy left by the French was their technique for making bread. I have not since tasted bread to match that baked by the Vietnamese.

During our training at Woodside South Australia, we had been introduced to the fascinating history, culture and religions of Viet Nam. Fascinating because, these people had been at war with their neighbours for a thousand years. Our war was to them, a continuation of hundreds of years of determined struggle against foreign invaders. As a result of this small but valuable insight, I believe we had an advantage over the U.S. troops, as we had a clearer understanding of the land and its people. To the U.S. soldiers, they were just 'gooks'. I like to think we had a little more compassion towards the Vietnamese. The Australian Military Forces were in fact issued with “Nine Rules” covering their conduct whilst in Viet Nam. They are worth repeating as they highlight traditional Aussie values, even though they may not have been followed to the letter:-

1. Remember we are here only to help; we make no demands and seek no special treatment.

2. Try to understand the people, their way of life; customs and laws.

3. Learn the simple greetings of the Vietnamese language and use them frequently.

4. Treat friendly people, particularly women with respect and courtesy.

5. Don't attract attention by rude behavior or larrikinism.

6. Avoid separating us from the Vietnamese by a display of great wealth or privilege.

7. Make friends among the soldiers and people of Viet Nam.

8. Remember decency and honesty are the signs of a man and a soldier; bad manners are the sign of a fool.

9. Above all remember you are an Australian, by your actions our country is judged. Set an example of sincerity     and fair play in all your dealings with Vietnamese and with other people who are assisting them.

Unfortunately we, along with the Americans, were seen by the general populace as just one more foreign invader supporting an unpopular and extremely corrupt government.

Normally when we flew to points south of Da Nang, we utilized Air America, the CIA's private airline. They shuttled backwards and forwards on a regular basis between Da Nang and Saigon, and being EOD, with the highest travel priority, we were welcome to fly with them. They operated silver Curtiss C-46s with airline type seats which were a vast improvement over the uncomfortable webbed seats of the C-130 Hercules. What and who the airline carried besides us was not discussed. We didn't ask and they didn't tell us. I often sat next to stony faced Yanks in civilian clothes. Presumably they were CIA on their way to subvert somebody. Air America also very kindly brought in our mail twice a week from Saigon.

'Air America'  Curtiss Commando (C-46) in DaNang 1970

The U.S. Air force operated shuttle services between all major bases and during the late 60's, Saigon's Tan Son Nhat airfield was the busiest airport in the world. All one needed for travel was a set of written 'orders' from your CO and it was then a matter of waiting in line. When one aircraft was full, it departed and another moved in to take its place. For an Australian Serviceman, it was awesome to see the sheer size of the American Military Machine in operation. In a country, less than the size of Victoria, large transport aircraft had a choice of 75 tactical airfields.

We maintained a 24 hour a day radio contact with 'Derringer', our local operations centre, and when we heard our callsign 'Cliffside' on the net, we knew it was time to hustle. There was a Helo pad within 200 metres of our hooch and the Americans could usually supply a chopper at very short notice. Most helicopter flying was done either above 2-3,000 feet and out of small arms range, or at treetop level, to reduce the risk of taking ground fire. By the time the VC heard the chopper, it was over the top and out of sight. This was not always successful. Once, when returning to Camp Tien Shau at night, we took small arms fire through the aircraft whilst overflying Da Nang city. 'Charlie' was everywhere.

After observing at length the attitude of the ARVN, (they avoided fighting, working, patrolling and everything else if possible) it was almost chilling to see the ruthless efficiency of the Korean soldiers, known to everyone as 'ROK's'. Their vehicles, weapons and uniforms were always immaculate. They were without a doubt the most disciplined troops I have ever encountered, and the Vietnamese were petrified of them for good reason. The ROK's regarded the Vietnamese as an extremely inferior race and treated them accordingly. Once, when heading for the airfield to pick up the mail, I was halted by a roadblock which had been set up by disabled ARVN veterans on the main road outside of their compound. They were protesting against their appalling pensions and living conditions, with very good reason. They had moved onto the road enmasse on their crutches and in their wheelchairs and refused to budge. After unsuccessful negotiations followed by threats, the ARVN MP's still could not move them, so the American MP's were called for. More negotiation followed by more threats and still they refused to move. This 'Mexican standoff' continued until someone had the bright idea of calling in the ROK MP's. As word passed around the vets that the ROK's were coming, they became visibly agitated and I could see a genuine fear growing in their faces. At the mere threat of ROK intervention the Vets disappeared back into their compound as if the Devil himself was after them.

In the interest of keeping our souls pure, we had two brief visits by R.A.N. Chaplains. One, the Reverend P. Ball, presented us with a verse composed by members of the Ship's Company of the Australian destroyer HMAS Perth, at that time serving on the Gun Line off the coast of Viet Nam.  It read:-

“O God in Heaven, hear our plea,

for Clearance Divers `neath the sea.

While in the Ocean's dark embrace,

keep us Thy sons within Thy Grace.

And hear us Lord, o Thou who saves,

for us Thy servants `neath the waves.”

During the final weeks of our tour, Jake and I visited the Australian Army bases at Nui Dat and Vung Tau, both of which were located far to the south in III Corps. Hoping to make some duty free purchases from the ASCO canteen at Nui Dat, we were advised by the canteen manager that they had only just re-stocked with goods recently arrived from Australia (courtesy of the Navy's troop carrier HMAS Sydney) and he informed us that the canteen was only open to Colonel rank and above on that first day. Even after explaining that this was our first and only opportunity to take advantage of Australian canteen privileges during our entire tour, this tiny minded REMF (rear echelon mutha-fucker) would not bend his pathetic little rule. I cursed myself for not bringing our box of collar devices.

We were extremely disappointed to hear the news that our relief team would not be coming. Our Team was in fact one of the token Unit withdrawals (albeit 6 of us) from South Viet Nam by the Australian Government. Jake made a last minute effort to have us return to Australia via Hawaii to 'hail and farewell' the US Navy's EOD Group which had responsibility for us while we were in Viet Nam. Of course the Canberra paper shufflers rejected that idea out of hand even though the Americans would have provided the necessary transportation and accommodation at their cost.

Mama San was particularly upset to find that we were leaving and that her employment was coming to an end. We dug into our slush fund which had been saved from our beer sales over the bar and gave her a substantial parting cash gift, although even this failed to cheer her up to any great degree. I believe that she sensed things were only going to go downhill for the South and our leaving brought that realization to the surface. She had agreed to take Dog to her home and look after him but we all felt very sad about leaving him as we knew life was going to be particularly tough for him. On the day we finalized our packing, Dog was quite noticeably agitated. By the time we arrived at Mama San's house, he was shaking and yelping like a pup. The poor old fella knew we weren't coming back.

With mixed feelings of regret that it was all over, and relief that we were all going to make it home in one piece, we departed Da Nang on the 21st April 1971 courtesy of a 'Wallaby Airlines' Caribou. Our first stop was Pleiku in the Central highlands, where we landed for fuel, and then it was on to Saigon.

A South Vietnamese team was assigned to take over our responsibilities in I Corps, but they had failed to materialize by the time of our departure from Da Nang. In hindsight, our withdrawal coincided with the beginning of the end of the war as 'Vietnamisation' was proving to be a dismal failure as subsequent events showed, culminating in the fall of Saigon to the Communist Forces on April 30, 1975. Less than a fortnight after our departure, we were informed that the only Vietnamese EOD technician whom we had regarded as being anywhere near professional, had been killed by a 'Birdcage' mine in the Cua Viet river. Our departure left I Corps with very little surface EOD capability and without any underwater EOD capability whatsoever.

Before we departed from Da Nang, the US Naval Commander in 1 Corps awarded a number of individual U.S. Navy Citations to Team members, including the following Unit Citation:-

“For meritorious service during the period October 1970 to April 1971 while attached to and serving with the Royal Australian Navy Clearance Diving Team 3, Explosive Ordnance Disposal Mobile Unit, Pacific Team 35 at the United States Naval Support Facility, Da Nang.

You provided an invaluable service to all branches of the United States Armed Forces and other Free World Military Assistance Forces in Military Region One by engaging in explosive ordnance disposal, channel clearing and salvage operations. Your exemplary professionalism, endurance and devotion to duty were particularly evident during the extremely hazardous salvage of a United States Army logistic craft which had capsized with a full load of explosives aboard.

Your consistently outstanding performance of duty contributed to the successful accomplishment of the mission of United States Naval Support Facility, Da Nang in support of Free World Military Assistance Forces in the Republic of Viet Nam.  Your exceptional achievements under arduous working and living conditions and constant threat of enemy rocket and small arms attack were a credit to the Royal Australian Navy and were in keeping with the highest traditions of the Naval Service”.

We spent two weeks winding down with the U.S. Navy's EODMUPAC Team 33, located in Cholon. They lived in a delightful old French villa that had a very pleasant and well stocked rooftop bar. Tu Do street was revisited and on one occasion Narra and Blue arrived at one of our favourite bars to find it ablaze, flattened by a bomb only minutes prior to their arrival, courtesy of the local Viet Cong. After Da Nang, Saigon was a wild town, and we thoroughly enjoyed driving down the tree-lined boulevards in tiny old French Renault and Peugeot taxi-cabs looking for new bars to enjoy a beer and some female company, preferably ones that didn't attract the attention of VC sappers.

On Anzac Day the Australian Embassy held a formal dawn service with each of the three services being represented at the Cenotaph ceremony. I was detailed to represent the Navy and spent several days practicing for the ceremony at 'Free World Headquarters' in Saigon. After the formal service was over, we mixed with the dignitaries and enjoyed a traditional Anzac breakfast complete with Bundaberg rum and Australian sausages freshly flown in from the 'Land Down Under'.

Prior to leaving Viet Nam we received the following signal from the Australian Naval Board:-

Finally, on the 5th May 1971, after almost four and a half years service in South Viet Nam, the RAN's Clearance Diving Branch closed the chapter on its first exposure to Active Duty. With mixed emotions, the last Team boarded a Qantas 'Freedom Bird' and departed Saigon to the south, back to the 'real world'.

A total of 49 Clearance Divers had served in South Viet Nam during the period February 1967 through to May 1971.

On our arrival back on Australian soil, Clearance Diving Team 3 was officially disbanded, with the proviso “to be reformed again at the discretion of the Australian Naval Board”.

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