Service in the Vietnam War exposed the men of CDT3 to a number of challenges, both personal and professional, which lay well outside the scope of their previous experiences as Clearance Divers. The author, himself a CDT3 member, has explored the ways in which the divers accommodated the demands of active service and the range of tasks they were called upon to perform by asking other former team members to respond to a series of questions on their recollections of Vietnam, and on its aftermath. Their answers show that as small tightly-knit teams operating in dangerous and – initially – unfamiliar surroundings, each member sought to bridge the gap between exercises and operations with self-belief and confidence in his professional skills derived from esprit de corps and training. This has extended into post-Vietnam life.

This article revisits some of the issues faced by the Royal Australian Navy’s Clearance Diving (CD) Branch before, during and after it was tasked with operational service in the war in South Vietnam, as recalled by some of those who served. Their comments are in the form of answers to sixteen questions I posed to each of the respondents, and I have also presented some of the views of military writers who have undertaken independent appraisals of Clearance Diving Team 3’s (CDT3) involvement in the war.

The RAN’s troop transport, HMAS Sydney had been transporting Australian troops to Vietnam since May 1965, and in 1966, in what seemed to be a natural progression, the Federal government made the decision to commit the RAN to its first combat role in the war in Vietnam. CDT1 had in fact already spent six days during late May 1966 working with USN Explosive Ordnance Demolition (EOD) teams in Nha Be and Saigon. CDT3 was formed and deployed in February 1967 after a comprehensive workup period. This encompassed training in jungle warfare, weapons training, and diving and EOD refreshers, with a particular focus on Communist Bloc weapons and explosive ordnance being used by the North Vietnamese Army (NVA) and the Viet Cong (VC). Vietnamese booby trapping methods were also studied in detail. In all, eight teams were deployed between February 1967 and May 1971, totalling 49 officers and sailors. Each team rotated through the war zone at approximately seven month intervals.

In August 1970, the seventh team was relieved at Vung Tau by South Vietnamese Navy personnel and airlifted to Da Nang (I Corps/Military Region 1). The eighth and final team relieved its predecessor in October 1970 and served its entire tour based at Camp Tien Sha in Da Nang, assuming responsibility for naval EOD in the whole of I Corps area up to the Demilitarised Zone (DMZ). CDT3's initial US military designation was EOD Mobile Unit Pacific (EODMUPAC) Team 21, and on moving to Da Nang, it was redesignated Team 35. Throughout, the team remained under the operational control of Commander US Naval Forces Vietnam.

With the move, the nature of the task changed. Routine calls for assistance from ships in Da Nang harbour and military authorities continued but operations in support of US Naval Coastal Groups increased. The team was employed on booby trap clearance for USN Surveillance Groups which infiltrated into disputed areas by day and implanted sensitive acoustic sensors to monitor human movements at night.

The teams were on call 24 hours a day, seven days a week for the entire length of their tours. To achieve this high rate of availability, the team implemented an internal roster which in any 24 hour period had two personnel ready to deploy at immediate notice, two on standby as backup and two on stand down. Occasionally, four or five team members were deployed together on the one operation.

CDT3 had been originally directed not to participate in US Navy Special Forces (SEAL) operations or in operations along the Cambodian border; however the prohibition was lifted in January 1969, allowing team members to make full use of their unique skills. Consequently, the operational focus shifted to the provision of EOD support for offensive operations, with team members frequently attached to US and South Vietnamese Special Forces. These operations intensified in 1970, and team members were often under enemy fire while engaged in the destruction of bunker complexes, tunnels, trenches, observation posts and log barricades erected by the VC in the rivers and waterways of South Vietnam.

Operations varied from 'bread & butter' type diving and EOD operations to support of the 'Brown Water’ war in the rivers. Divers worked alongside US Navy SEALs, US Army, Air Force, Marine and Navy EOD teams, US Army Rangers, US Cavalry (air & armoured), the Australian Army Training Team Vietnam, US Advisors, and South Vietnamese Army and Navy units.

Service in Vietnam changed the way RAN CDs saw themselves and perhaps more importantly, highly complimentary reports from our American allies opened the eyes of some in the RAN hierarchy to the Australian CDs’ rapidly expanding level of professionalism. CDs were working alongside the largest and most powerful military force in the world and matching their wits against the world's most committed and resourceful guerrilla soldier – and in this company they were not found wanting. The VC put a price on their heads, and the US military increasingly called on them to conduct operations which were outside of their core responsibilities - a testament to their skills, adaptability and ever growing professionalism.

Awards to CDT3 members included the Distinguished Service Cross, Distinguished Service Medals, British Empire Medal, Mention in Dispatches, US Army Commendation Medals, US Navy Meritorious Unit Commendation, Australian Naval Board Commendations, US Navy Letters of Commendation, plus numerous individual Vietnamese and US bravery recommendations. Many of these could not be accepted because Australian Government policy of the day refused to allow the acceptance of individual foreign bravery awards. Despite this the teams’ casualties were light – one killed and one wounded.

From 1955, when the first dedicated CD course qualified, the Branch’s primary role was defensive in nature and primarily focused on location, identification and disposal of mines underwater. Its secondary roles included underwater maintenance, training of the Fleet in ship defence against saboteurs, beach reconnaissance and minor salvage.

During the formative years leading up to the Branch's baptism of fire in 1967, CDs developed their ‘can do easy’ attitude, performing a diverse range of diving, EOD and salvage-related tasks. Utilizing largely obsolete equipment and with limited support and recognition from the naval command structure, CDs had to develop and hone their skills in house. This generated an extremely high level of improvisation and led to the development of skills and an independent spirit in CDs. The very early training scenario, with a focus on team and individual self reliance required CD students to demonstrate a wide array of survival and interdependent skills to enable them to pass the basic course. This in turn led to an unforeseen but very beneficial ‘stand alone’ capability becoming an integral part of the CD Branch.

Although relatively untested in the military skills required for service ashore in a war zone, the intensively specialized diving and EOD training had prepared CDs to readily adapt to whatever was asked of them. However, having been trained along British lines and on British equipment, with virtually no exposure to the US military machine, the transition was made a little more complex than perhaps it could have been. Vietnam was to be an entirely new experience for the young Australians. As one CD saw it:

The new Branch had not been tried in war, and, although the basic EOD task can be similar in peace or war, now there were many factors to be dealt with. CDT3 would serve ashore in the war zone and would require training over and above that normally given to the CD to equip him to act in support of ground forces and with ordnance not native to Australia.

The high quality of the men and of their training and experience, allowed contingents to meld into teams in a relatively short time. It was comparatively easy to expand on the capabilities of well-trained soldiers, but very difficult to do so with troops who were only partly trained or poorly trained to begin with. The ability of diving contingents to expand their capabilities was based on two solid foundations: good men and good training.

The Diving Branch was well prepared after the first team was formed and our previous CD training was built upon. That with the Army Jungle Training, which the team excelled in, put us up to speed, keeping in mind that both myself and Brian Clark had already been to Vietnam on HMAS Sydney and had experienced first hand the diving conditions in the area which we were to operate in.

In the field of Mine Counter Measures and Beach Reconnaissance the CD Branch was, and from all the evidence still is, second to none. The same applied to combat swimming. So, in terms of its readiness for its role in Operation Stable Door's harbour defence in Vietnam, the Branch was as prepared as could be expected. But whether it was ready for the extended EOD application and for ground operations with US forces is questionable. In my opinion, initially (with the early teams) it wasn't. We definitely had the edge on the Americans in some areas (e.g. ships' bottom searches, shaped charge application in EOD), and were able to impress the Yanks with a few tricks. On the other hand, we had a lot to learn from them. I arrived in Vietnam reasonably confident that I could handle any situation which arose. That ‘blissful ignorance’ was dispelled somewhat in the briefing on our first day in Vietnam. I saw things in the USN EOD display room in Saigon I'd never heard of and heard things by the briefing officer (horror stories) I'd never imagined. But the doubts raised by the initial in-country briefing were soon dispelled. Due to our training, or perhaps our 'above average intelligence' (supposedly a criterion for selection) we quickly adapted to the requirements and became confident that we could handle anything that was asked of us.

The Branch and the RAN was not ready at all as both were still deeply entrenched in British methodology. To demonstrate this, only a few years earlier, CD's were sent ashore in Indonesia in Zodiac rubber boats carrying only a diver's knife. The 1st Team arrived in-country (Vietnam) in 10A's (white shirts and white shorts) without weapons. Good heavens my good man, a rating with loaded weapon could injure someone!!! The type of volunteer the Branch attracts is a fit and special person who can work upside down, completely out of his element, in pitch blackness, with a strong current running, with eight eyes and two marlin spikes (referring to our eight fingers and two thumbs) and conduct Render Safe Procedures and neutralize IEDs [improvised explosive devices] under those extreme conditions. With training, team work and the buddy system, you have a product (CD) who is utterly aware of his and his mates' surroundings. So when placed in other military company, he will always excel, which was again proven on the Army's Battle Efficiency course. In my opinion, the product was there but we lacked leadership.

As part of pre-deployment training, teams attended the Australian Army’s five-day ‘Staff Officer’s Briefing’ conducted at Woodside, South Australia. This included a comprehensive look at the history of Vietnam and an overview of strengths and activities of VC units in Phuoc Tuy province where the Australian Task Force was based. A limited introduction to Vietnamese customs and religions was provided, along with some very basic language lessons.

Intensive weapons training was conducted at the Naval Air Station in Nowra, NSW. Under supervision of navy Gunnery petty officers, team members were given instruction in every firearm held in the Australian military inventory, including the 7.62mm M60 general purpose machine gun, the 7.62mm L1A1 self-loading rifle, the 5.56mm M-16 rifle, the 40mm M79 grenade launcher, the F1 sub-machine gun and the 9mm Browning handgun. Team members learnt to field strip and maintain all weapons with their eyes closed. On the range, thousands of rounds were fired until everyone became extremely proficient in the use of all these weapons. We were also trained by our EOD section in the use of M26 hand grenades, Claymore mines, ‘Jumping Jack’ anti-personnel mines, anti-vehicle mines, anti-tank mines, anti-personnel bomblets and foreign booby trap/improvised explosives device actuation systems.

This course was a pre-requisite for all Service personnel posted to service ashore in Vietnam. The course included patrolling, contact and ambush drill (fire and movement), harbour drills, ambushing, weapons handling and range practice, field navigation, camouflage, minefield layouts and clearing procedures, muscle toughening, obstacle and confidence courses, and forced marches. Officers and senior sailors also completed the Army ‘Code of Conduct’ course at Woodside.

We did an Army Intelligence course at Mosman which included a portion on the Vietnamese language. Was it useful? On our first day in Vietnam, Mick Currie was proud to report that he had successfully negotiated with a Vietnamese peddler to purchase an item without the use of one word of English. Besides numbers, we learnt greetings, responses to greetings, commands and so forth. So it wasn't worthless, just grossly insufficient. The ‘winning the hearts and minds’ approach to the war would definitely have been far better facilitated had we been more competent with the language and more familiar with the customs of the people. But how far can you go in training? In terms of winning hearts, some of the sailors coaxed the language instructor at Mosman to provide them with some words which would help them with the ladies. But invariably, like everyone else, we settled into communicating with the Vietnamese in Vietnamese/English pidgin 'VC numbar ten, Uc Da Loi (Australian) numbar one!'

Before departing Australia, all servicemen (to serve in country) were issued with The Australian Military Forces Pocketbook South Vietnam. We were expected to read it before departing and to use it as a ready reference in Vietnam. The book covered such things as the war in South Vietnam, the country's history, geography, government and administration structure, the people, the armed services, and (very basically) the Viet Cong enemy. It also provided a language guide, important national dates and festivals, currency and exchange rates, weights and measures and Vietnamese and US Army insignia. The book was a genuine attempt at closing the gap between Australian and Vietnamese people. 'Wherever you go’, it advised, ‘remember that Vietnam is a land of dignity and reserve. Good manners, thoughtfulness, and restrained behaviour will be appreciated by the Vietnamese. You will benefit, as will the country you represent, in terms of friendship built on the solid foundation of mutual respect and admiration’.

Going into the unknown is always a bit concerning and as we had had a very good pre-departure preparation, we were quietly confident. The Army had put us through an intelligence course which covered what we were to expect in country. This course was built up from the Army's experience up to that time in country, so we were aware of the dos and don’ts with regards to the locals and the rules of engagement with the enemy. This did boost our understanding of the conditions in Vietnam which led to boosting our morale.

We knew that the North were training and deploying swimmer sappers in the South but we didn't know anything about the quality of these people or their standard of training (similar in most respects to our own). Until reading McAulay's book, In the Ocean's Dark Embrace, I'd never heard of the NVA's elite 126 Naval Sapper Regiment. We (second contingent) didn't know that swimmer sappers were equipped (in I Corps military and naval zones) with fully closed circuit breathing apparatus. I first became aware of this when, in Dec ‘67 in Saigon, I was shown photographs of dead sapper/swimmers equipped with oxygen rebreathers. We didn't know that Group Ten, a battalion sized unit operating in and out of Rung Sat (right on our doorstep in Phuoc Tuy) had a special swimmer sapper company. We knew that the VC operated out of the Rung Sat and that swimmer sappers occasionally emerged from there, but we didn't know that a specialist swimmer sapper company, comprised of some members of the NVA’s elite 126 Naval Sapper Regiment, was permanently based there. If closed circuit sets had been available to this unit and the Soviet BMP 2 limpet mines (first encountered by the fifth contingent) I suspect we would have been in for a big shock.

Intelligence was again barely adequate as it only revolved around the Army in their area of operations, where we did very little, and of course we came under USN command. I'm very critical of language, country knowledge, enemy knowledge and knowledge of our allies. If we only had a couple of Americans and Vietnamese briefing us instead of someone whose knowledge was extremely limited. How much more could we have learned had we obtained it from the horse's mouth.

Other tasks which the EOD teams were called upon to undertake involved the disposal of ordnance which had become unsafe, and assisting in salvage operations. From mid–1968, the Australians of CDT3 were also periodically involved in special operations with the Vietnamese armed forces, clearing barriers along the approaches to ambushes and reconnaissance patrols against known or suspected enemy-held areas. Although the directive to officers-in-charge specifically precluded operations in or near Cambodia or with the SEALs, most teams were involved with these operations from time to time although they were usually not written up in the monthly Report of Proceedings.

By the time the eighth contingent, of which I was a member, deployed to Vietnam, the Clearance Diving Branch, the RAN and the Army had revised and designed pre-deployment training to better suit our fundamental requirements. The experience of the teams that went before was used to great advantage and I think we benefited far more than the early teams that were trained from a largely ‘blind’ perspective. I personally do not think that we lacked very much at all from a training perspective.

When the first contingent arrived in Vietnam, they really had no idea of what to expect. For example, they arrived in Vietnam wearing white Navy uniforms, carried no weapons, and in fact possessed nothing suited to life in the war zone. On their first evening in Saigon the team was taken to a US Bachelor Enlisted Quarter (BEQ) dining room for their evening meal. Their welcome was recorded by MacAulay.

The American armed guards at the BEQ by this time recognized Australian soldiers in khaki or jungle greens, and they knew they were entitled to enter and dine there. ‘Diggers’ in uniform were OK, but the US guards definitely were not going to allow in a bunch of non-military freeloaders dressed in white short-sleeved shirt, white shorts and long blue socks – these nattily dressed fellows quite obviously were a soccer team!

The expectation for me was confused by the fact that we arrived in Vietnam in white shorts and tops, close to nightfall and unarmed during Tet, with lots of fireworks going off during the bus trip from the airport to our billet. The next day we were armed and in jungle greens. The first few days we stayed in Saigon and then three of us moved to Nha Be and into action. This was when the war started for us as we had action all around us and except for us not being allowed to shoot the men in black pajamas, unless they were shooting at us, the rest went as per what we expected.

The South Vietnamese proved less cooperative than team members perhaps expected, or were used to, having come from a peacetime environment in Australia: ‘a siren on all EOD vehicles is essential if any sort of reaction time is to be observed as South Vietnamese nationals and other military traffic are very loathe to clear a path for an emergency vehicle without some well founded reason’.

Vietnam was different in virtually every way from what I had expected. No one told us that when we got to Vietnam we would need to forget ‘the book’. Rigid rules (except radio procedure), SOPs [standard operating procedures] and detailed operation descriptions went out the window. Another thing which stands out (largely related to the first) was the amount of times you found yourself on the go without knowing much if anything about what was happening (I speak from a 20 year old Able Seaman's perspective). For example, within a couple of days of arriving on the Hill I was suddenly told to dress up (long johns for diving) and load two sets of dive gear onto a helicopter which was approaching the site. Now maybe I was told or should have known what was on, but my head was so full of stuff in those first days that if I was told it probably went over the top. I just did as I was told. Minutes later I was on board a Huey heading out to sea. We reached a spot obviously marked 'X' on the pilot's map and he said, ‘Jump’. Three of us jumped, no questions asked, into the sea with all the gear. The chopper flew away and left us there, with no rendezvous boat in sight. You can read what followed in McAulay's book. The point is that's the way things often happened over there.

I believe that as a rather immature 22 year old Clearance Diver arriving in Vietnam, I had some romanticized views of what to expect based on movies of war, stories by people who had returned from Vietnam, and my own imagination. I think this could be classed as normal to anyone who had never been to a war zone before. I was surprised to find how relaxed and informal the scenario was. It was a different discipline in that diving regulations did not exist and that Able Seamen CD's were unsupervised in explosive ordnance disposal and in some situations went on operations and made decisions affecting the operation.

My directive states clearly that this unit is not to take part in SEAL operations. These operations were planned by Coastal Group 33 but could be construed as a SEAL type insertion. It is strongly recommended that this team remain as active participants due to the technical assistance given, considered extremely valuable by the Vietnamese advisors, and the experience and sense of direct participation given to this team.

Littleton (4th Team) saw “a (more) significant problem in the control of night operations posed by the failure of ships in port to maintain a continuous watch on the Harbour Common circuit…“An example was provided on 28 January. At 0200 the EOD team commenced operations and approached the SS American Producer’ to inform the ship that a search was to be undertaken. As the EOD craft neared the ship at a distance of 30 yards, it was fired on by the US Military Police sentries on board.

Certainly by the time the eighth contingent arrived in-country the Americans were employing the Australian divers as their ‘immediate response team’ to any EOD/diving/salvage incident which was ‘outside the square’. This had the sailors responding to calls for assistance from every corner of Military Region 1. We were treated with the utmost respect and wanted for nothing in terms of equipment, transportation, weapons, ammunition and victuals. In fact we were amazed at the ease with which we could obtain virtually anything we wanted from the US system. The Australian system, unfortunately, was a completely different story.

We had no problems with the Yanks. They were eager to assist us in any way that they could. Jim Thompson ('Combat Tom'), an American friend with whom I keep in contact, said that the Commander, McPherson (HECP) called for volunteers to assist CDT3 as required. Thompson said 'When he called for volunteers to work with your mob he picked me …. Thanks to him I got to knock around Nui Dat and made a few interesting jobs with CDT3. Good experience and it served me well in my last tour in ‘Nam. Learned a lot from you Aussies (from a text I received from Jim in 2005). They pulled their weight with the grog too’.

…when we recovered the first Russian limpet, the BPM-2, with anti-removal device, an American on exchange with us made a rendering safe tool for the mine in two days and named it after himself. The same person a week earlier on a barricade operation in the Mekong Delta threw his hands up in horror and the operation was in doubt because we did not bring electrical tape to attach the detonator to the detonating cord. It was then demonstrated that a simple figure of eight knot around the detonator did the same job.

I don’t think we could have been better looked after by our US ‘hosts’. The list of support they provided us was extensive and at no time were we left wanting logistically. They provided our accommodation, vehicles, fuel, maintenance, diving equipment, weapons, explosives, movies, tools, ammunition, helicopter and fixed wing travel in country, radio communication management, medical support, harbour transport when required, and access to their PX and catalogue system.

We had little or no feedback from Navy Office. The Officers-in-Charge (OiC) sent in their monthly Report of Proceedings as is standard practice for any naval unit. There were occasional visits from a naval chaplain, which achieved little more than ensuring the said chaplain received a ‘been there’ medal. The eighth team received a visit from a Vice Admiral, but once again, team members felt this was just part of another medal-collecting trip. The only visit felt worthwhile by team members was on Christmas Eve 1970 when the Minister of the Navy visited the eighth team for an overnight stay. At least one politician knew we were there. As there were only six of us 'in country' and our OiCs were mere Lieutenants, we didn’t expect much else. Not that it mattered to team members, as every single one of us was focused only on doing the job to the best of our ability and staying alive. There were times when the team felt let down on the important issues such as the following example of recommended improvements to our pre-deployment training being totally ignored by the ‘desk warriors’ in Navy Office.

In the first days of November 1967, US Navy officers visited CDT3, confirmed the recent allocation of duties, and also suggested that all future CDT3 contingents first spend two weeks at the base in Hawaii for refresher training, as did US teams. This suggestion was fervently supported by the RAN contingents, but less so by their superiors.

Later, in 1971 when the eighth team was nearing the end of its tour, the Americans requested the outgoing RAN contingent visit EOD Group Headquarters in Hawaii for detailed debriefs on lessons learnt and experience gained in the war zone - a logical and important conclusion to CDT3’s four and a half years service in Vietnam. Again this was either ignored or rejected out of hand by Navy Office. In the junior ranks of the team, this was seen to be little more than the ‘desk jockeys’ in Canberra denying the team a visit to Hawaii because it was such a famous tourist and holiday destination – they couldn’t go, so a bunch of low ranking divers sure as hell weren’t going. Not all felt this apparent neglect so personally.

I think that a team of six Clearance Divers in Vietnam was almost unnoticeable and only a few knew we existed and they were in the Directorate of Underwater Warfare. We certainly were not front line news in the papers or on TV and there was the odd bit in the Navy News. It certainly was noticed on our arrival back to Australia when we were met by only the OIC of the Diving School. The single members of the team were taken to Royal Naval House for the night and sent on leave the next day. I guess I was expecting a small fanfare for what we had been through and felt disappointment.

In a signal of 9th May 1968 the Naval Board requested further information from the Commander, Australian Forces Vietnam on the grounds that the first operation ‘suggests a USN SEAL operation’ in which the Clearance Diving teams were forbidden to engage at that stage, while the second contravened the requirement that Australian forces not be deployed for service outside the territory of the Republic of Vietnam. This latter provision was really aimed at avoiding the engagement of Australian service personnel either in or over North Vietnam (although this occurred on occasions) or Cambodia (although there were examples as well, none sanctioned).

I think Defence in general were happy to have us under the command of the USN EOD organization. We reported to the EOD Group and our RoPs were a means of keeping our nose clean. We all wanted to be there and had in most instances felt extreme elation when selected for service in CDT3 and sure as hell did not want to call any attention to our exploits that might have upset Navy Office. Since the event, I am told that our RoPs were widely distributed and read, so it is obvious that we were interesting, but in the ‘60s and ‘70s CDs were a small part of the RAN and certainly of little interest to the Fleet, except when they had need of our services. I believe today’s CDs are seen more as Special Forces than ‘Bubblies’. I do believe though that once we don’t have a specific task, interest wanes quickly. I also find it quite amusing that the Naval Staff over the years have sought the guidance of members of the SASR on matters that their own CDs have been operational in for years, indeed had it not been for the CD branch CT operations would have been a different story.

There seems to have been a curious apathy about the experience gained by our deployed units. Why? Having pondered this question, the author believes that it was because Vietnam was a sideshow in the eyes of many in the Navy. As there was never any possibility of the carrier and most of the Fleet ever being deployed there, Vietnam was something peculiar to the DDGs (an impression their ships’ companies assiduously cultivated, it has to be said.) Many of the veterans felt the same way. Typical is the response of a CDT3 member: “I hoped nobody asked me to do an appreciation of all this because I’d got enough to do as it was. That’s the way we thought.” [Interview by the author of Commander E.W. Linton BEM RAN, 10 August 2002].

It is difficult to draw out individuals on their true feelings when first encountering life-threatening situations. Most would admit to a sense of fear and trepidation, however, the more thorough the training, the quicker that fear is brought under control and training and professional instincts take over. Many CDT3 veterans have never revealed their innermost feelings, while others were able to share theirs with team-mates soon after the event.

The first time in action for me was seeing a dead VC and thinking, better him then me. This was followed up with looking for a sunken inshore minesweeper with the loss of all hands and the recovery of a beached, shot up inshore mine sweeper while there was a fire fight going on a few hundred metres away. You tend to concentrate on the task at hand and not worry about what is happening around you. As for my fellow team members they did the same and after the action we all had some relief by way of talking about how it was for each of us. The more action you were involved in the better became your application, also your own confidence improved. Best to be scared away from danger than while facing it.

The common reaction was to get stuck into the grog as soon as possible after the event and to bury the emotions as deeply as possible in the back of the mind. Forget it - treat it as an everyday occurrence. To dwell on the incident would make facing the next day almost impossible, as the chances were it would most certainly happen all over again. I think we all realised very early on that emotions had no place in a war zone. Two team members describe their reactions.

Lt Burns and I were later involved in the attempted recovery of a Junk Force junk left stranded on the beach…The plan called for the Boss and I to swim in, clear the junk of any ordnance traps and mines, get a tow rope to the boat, and if recovery proved impossible, blow the junk in place. 'It'll be a hot op,' said Nation [the briefer], ‘and anyone who doesn't wish to be part of it should see me before we depart’. I could imagine his response to me asking, ‘May I be excused, sir?’

For the time it took to travel to the landing site (about two hours), I was full of dread, convinced beyond any doubt that my life at the end of the journey would be quickly terminated. I felt like a captive on the way to my own execution with no way of escape. I thought of my wife being left without a husband, my one-year old son without a dad. Except for one brief conversation I had with the Boss, nobody spoke a word they just sat on the deck, along both sides of the barge, with blank faces…After arriving off the site, the Swift [boat] did a high speed reconnaissance inshore. Owing to ‘the heavy concentration of enemy soldiers around the beach’, sanity, for once, prevailed, and the recovery operation was aborted... I don't think I spoke to anyone about the event certainly not to the Boss. I don't know what went through his head or how he coped. I certainly wouldn't have told anyone I was scared shitless.

In my first major life threatening incident there were only two us on the operation in the Mekong Delta. The operation was to destroy barriers and a footbridge that had been placed across the river. For support there four heavily armed Swift boats (river patrol boats) to get us to the task. We did a lot of damage (huts, livestock and crops) on the way and targets were successfully destroyed. As we were on the lead boat on the way to the job, we reverted to ‘tail-end Charlie’ on the return trip when we were ambushed. I certainly did not comprehend what was happening as everything occurred in slow motion with rockets exploding, smoke and noise, as we were approximately twenty metres from the densely covered mangrove bank. I vaguely remember the twin .50 calibre gunner collapsing in his turret, amidships on top of the wheelhouse and then some sort of order returned when the Lieutenant in charge of the Swift boat ordered the sailor with the M60 machinegun on the bow to take over the turret where the gunner had been mortally wounded. I took over the M60 and we did a token defiant pass back where we were ambushed and then bolted.

There were several life threatening situations later and I am aware of freezing on at least one occasion, so I believe that I didn't handle these situations at all well. I cannot answer for other team members but we all sensed that in each other, when someone was traumatized, they were better off absorbing it in their own way and nothing much was said other than ‘are you alright?’ There was of course heaps of alcohol to be consumed as soon as possible and we soon became ‘bulletproof’ again. One comment I would like to make is that death is so impersonal when you don’t know the person.

Our first action situations came early in the tour and provided significant adrenalin-pumping opportunities that caused trepidation, fear, rapid response and considerable reflection time that followed. The reflection time was mostly personal, and I certainly looked internally and somewhat critically at my own response and pondered the outcome and possible variations of that outcome if circumstances had been a little different. I also recall thinking a lot about what I would do differently if the action incident was replayed. From a team perspective, we talked about things afterwards in our bar and we drank copious amounts of the cheap alcohol that was always available unless we were on ‘stoppage’ which just happened to be a frequent situation for me.

Theory prepares the individual for the expected. In a war zone one is continuously confronted with the unexpected. There is no learning curve as such. The learning doesn’t end until the day you climb aboard the ‘Freedom Bird’ for your flight home. Then, and only then, can you relax your vigilance. To assume that you have reached the learning apex is to invite tragic consequences.

All the training in the world will not prepare you for the non-text book situations. What does prepare you is the confidence from becoming a CD and it is what CD’s are renowned for, their ability to improvise. On one occasion we had to recover a downed helicopter. There are two text book ways to do this and for them to be able to be implemented, the helicopter has to be in the upright position. This particular helicopter was upside down, so we had to improvise and quickly, as we were in enemy territory and under close bombardment from the Americans.

To the question ‘How steep was the learning curve between theory and practice?’ the answer is: ‘You know straight up and down? Well, twice as steep as that’ What measures helped us to get 'up to it' ASAP [as soon as possible]? It was boots and all into the deep end for everyone. Normally an AB will back up an officer or higher rate in EOD work. Not in Vietnam. Lt Burns noted on my Service Certificate that while 'on active service in Vietnam carried out EOD duties normally only performed by a CDO’. Moreover, you sometimes worked alone, had to.

The learning curve could be classed as exceptionally steep, as very few situations came close to anything that we rehearsed in training. I think that we were lucky that we really did ease our way into the first month or so until some of the bizarre scenarios started to appear. One in particular that comes to mind was a 300 ton tug which had 120mm mortar projectile trapped between the tip of the propeller and the ‘Cortz’ nozzle that enshrouded it, encased in cardboard. We automatically thought that the round had been the work of Viet Cong sappers set up as a limpet but later realised the tug was used on ammunition barges and the round trapped there was accidental. We stern-beached the tug in a semi-secure area, waited for the tide to drop a little and spent eight hours cutting through the round with a hacksaw blade held between the fingers at the same time splashing seawater on it to stop the heat and abrasion. Not in the text book. I believe that as the tour went on we had the ability to judge what could be achievable in any situation and this was based on initial Clearance Diver training.

Stripping a booby trap under training is the best we can do but we all know it’s not life-threatening as we all know that any exercise will eventually end without major incident in most cases. I did not have any trouble in realizing that what I was doing was for real and I was up to speed from minute one of day one. Get it wrong and you are temporary.

The saving of a life was very important to me and a fond memory. Jim McKeag USN was struck down while on patrol with us, suffering from severe heat exhaustion and was very close to death's door. I rendered the appropriate first aid as taught to me by the Army and saved his life. The experience which does not sit well with me was the time a junk had been shot up and I was sent to help save it from sinking. I boarded the craft to find that the good guys had made a mistake and had filled this particular vessel full of .50 cal holes. Myself and a few Americans were filling up these holes with pieces of suitable wood when a small boy just looked at me, and if looks could kill!! He must have really hated us for what we had done to his father's boat and for some reason that moment has stuck with me for some time, although we did manage to save the boat from sinking.

Back in Vung Tau, a lady friend of mine, a ChineseFrench woman with whom I'd become closely acquainted (platonically), had lost her whole family. She'd gone home to celebrate Tet with them in Cholon (the staging area for the VC attack on Saigon), and, before she got there, or at some point when she was away from the house, it got bombed. Where her home had been and her whole family had gathered, there was only a gigantic smoking hole. With the exception of this woman I didn't have much humane sympathy for the Vietnamese people’s plight and suffering during Tet. In those days I didn't have much regard for them. I didn't hate them. I just couldn't empathize with them; didn't regard them highly as a race. My view has changed considerably since then. After the South fell in 1975 I tried, unsuccessfully, to adopt a Vietnamese orphan. Whatever my deeper motives in doing so, I did feel a profound grief for the Vietnamese at that point. You couldn't help feeling you'd let them down.

Clive Steele, an Australian Army landing craft constructed for carrying tanks, had arrived in Vung Tau with a damaged starboard propeller. So who else would one call upon to rectify the situation, as the other alternative was going back to be slipped in Singapore. The task at hand required several heavy chain blocks to be rigged underwater attached to the hull’s lifting lugs as per dry dock procedure and away we went. With the boss spanner, we loosened the boss nut using the chain blocks, unwound the nut off the thread which was heavy and tedious labour and other than the odd sea snake peering in the face mask all went plan. We used one turn of detonating cord to break the seal of the prop on the shaft and got the prop off the straight (not tapered) shaft. Cranes were used to exchange the two metre diameter propellers and the reverse procedure followed. We spent close to eighteen hours underwater on the job and were a bit wrinkly. Next day we got a speech from the Boss along the lines of ‘never had so many been owed so much, by so few’: then we got a signal from Clive Steele. When she attempted to leave the wharf the starboard engine was ordered ‘half ahead’ and the ship went astern and put a substantial ding in her starboard side. We had been lowered the wrong propeller and without a taper on the shaft it went into place.

The camaraderie along with the collective and individual bonds that were generated in our team during our deployment have, over time, proven to be extremely strong. They have provided us with a powerful confidence group that matches, and in some ways, exceeds the bonds of family. There were also some very strong bonds with some individual US servicemen which started during the conflict that have endured four decades with contact and discussion still enduring. In an incident not unlike Phil Kember's above, we received a call one night to respond to a potential booby trap incident when a local boat was fired upon and destroyed after it failed to stop while passing a large number of fully laden ammunition barges. It was a cold and wet night during a monsoon and the boat was instructed to stop but failed to do so, so it was shot to pieces by the US security forces. We searched 32 barges that night but without finding any suspicious items. The tragedy was that three locals had been shot, I think two of them killed and one badly wounded, and they proved to be innocent fishermen who had not heard the instructions to stop.

Whether it was changing or clearing a propeller of a patrol boat, responding to a report of a mined bridge at Baria, working with Market Time forces, or just burning off unserviceable ammunition, I felt I was, overall, part of something very important. They say that the mettle or measure of an individual or units’ contribution to a war is best assessed by its opponents. The VC, from all reports did not like EOD people (because they regarded them highly) and occasionally went out of their way to kill them…Why would the VC want to specifically target EOD people? Because in doing our job we were frequently messing up theirs. Every EOD man taken out, in this respect, is one less to undermine their work. Some say the VC even put a sizable bounty on the heads of EOD people, Australian divers in particular. We were told before we left Australia that it was $10,000 per head. This has never been confirmed to my knowledge, although the figure is reiterated from time to time in publications.

Our team responded without exception to every requirement requested of us. This included clearing booby traps, removing and/or disposing of unexploded ordnance, investigating suspected booby trapped packages, vehicles, buildings etc, inspecting ships and anchor cables and clearing barricades in rivers amongst other things. Every time we responded to an incident and removed/cleared or rendered safe dangerous ordnance we made the environment safer. With the exception of the local Vietnamese Navy EOD team that was domiciled next door to us and our necessary contact with ARVN during operations and domestic assistance, we had very little contact with the local population. It is hard to gauge if they actually felt that we were making a difference. Our Mamasan said on the day we were leaving ‘Uc Dai Loi (Australian), he go, VC, he come’. She had a look of absolute despair on her face and I very often think about that lovely lady and her family’s fate.

When the eighth contingent departed Da Nang, without replacement, I know I felt that we were pretty much deserting the Vietnamese. We were taking our ball and going home – we didn’t want to play anymore. To a man, we realised that nothing substantial had been accomplished. The withdrawal had begun and we knew we were leaving the South Vietnamese in a big hole.

The only news on the supposed overall progress of the war came from out of date newspapers and the US Military publication Stars and Stripes. In hindsight that meant we knew nothing. We were not overly concerned by this as we still had a job to do regardless of how the war was progressing. By this stage we also knew that the official statistics being fed to the media (as in body counts) was a load of rubbish. Often people returning from R&R [rest and recreation leave] would bring back more up to date news of what was happening ‘in country’, as they had seen the evening news and read the papers at home.

I cannot remember being kept informed on the big picture regarding how the war was going, but we were kept up to date on the latest ordnance which we were likely to encounter and the activity of the local enemy units. Besides, I had already worked out that we were never going to win this war after my first action. How could the terms of engagement have been drawn up in such a way that they favoured the enemy?

…it was hard to believe that we were not grinding them down, that Yank firepower would not eventually prevail, that the VC would be able to continue much longer (the whole concept was wrong; I know that now). The 'Tet Offensive' consequently, came as quite a shock: Where did the bastards get all that strength? Moreover, how did they build up for such a massive operation without anyone knowing? Didn't the Yanks have enough popular support among the Vietnamese to have got some feedback about the buildup? It has since come to light that the US and Vietnamese intelligence people did have an inkling it was coming, and had taken some precautions. But they didn't expect it to happen when it happened during the Tet holiday truce. ‘Expect the Unexpected’ is an EOD maxim which one would have thought was shared by the American intelligence officers, especially after Pearl Harbor! Our perception of our CD role in the war was unaffected by any of this. We had a job to do and we carried on doing it: guarding the US Navy Stable.

From my perspective the war was directed from our own offices. Whenever we were instructed to respond to an incident, it came from a radio call from a number of US agencies or our OIC/Chief directed us to a task. We read the 'Stars and Stripes' but really, I don’t think we took much notice of any strategic advances or losses, if they were stated in that newspaper. I do know that between the junior members of our team we stated on more than one occasion that we believed ‘We could make a considerable difference to this war if we were fighting on the other side’. That was reference to the slack military professionalism we felt was evident from the majority of the main stream US forces that we saw.

Service with CDT3 taught me that our training is second to none. I learnt that I could rely totally on my team mates and their actions. It also scared me as the inadequacies of others became much more noticeable. The war also taught me important lessons about the human race. The ‘system’ promotes the belief that the enemy is somehow subhuman and inferior. Perhaps that is the key element which keeps a soldier fighting – on both sides. I was a little surprised to discover in later years that the North Vietnamese are just ordinary and in the majority of cases, very decent people. Twenty years after the war, I met and became firm friends with a former North Vietnamese regular soldier. He laughed and cried, talked about the weather, felt pain, and loved his family - just like me. Makes you wonder what war is all about.

The most significant lesson: there is no room for mistakes. In the field, stay paranoid (they ARE out to get you), be wary of everything, and 'don't forget nuthin’.’ Don't do anything in a routine manner. We used to booby trap each others lockers and personal effects. It all helped to prepare us for the real thing, the world of 'complete success or absolute failure.' Human nature is of course prone to make the occasional mistake (they nearly got us once with a box of booby trapped grenades, which we had set aside, and with which we planned to go fishing). So we all had this attitude, or at least professed to have it. If you make a mistake you'll never know it: 'One flash and you're ash’. What lessons did I learn as a person? I learnt that I had the capacity to think and behave in ways which would have been most alien to me back in the ‘real’ world.

On a personal front I can now reflect on a lesson that I learned in Vietnam but it didn’t become apparent at that time. It is a natural reaction to be scared in dangerous situations but in reality and retrospect when you are diving under a barge at night with 200 tons of ammunition on it or approaching a vehicle with a suspected improvised explosive device in the fuel tank, or removing a grenade from a booby trap situation, being scared isn’t worth the energy it expends. I was scared many times, but to what end I now ask myself. If any of the situations where explosives are a factor went wrong, we would not have known anything about it. It would simply have detonated and we would have been almost certainly fatally injured. Coming to that understanding when you are in the ‘hot seat’ is not easy and could well be impossible…I personally think that the elevated level of internal tension over such an extended period of time changed my personality and demeanor for ever.

Apart from sending back the latest info on VC/NVA ordnance, tactics etc, there was very little the in-country team could do to assist. The relieving teams were being trained in Australia by an assortment of earlier team members based on their experiences in Vietnam and up to date information being fed back to the school. Attending the USN EOD refresher training prior to deployment, as offered by the Americans would have shortened the learning curve in-country. As it was, there was a short handover period between the arriving and departing team but the new team was left to feel their own way. None of the departing team wanted to put their ‘asses on the line’ during their last week. They had begun to think about home and family, and that meant their guard was coming down.

When the relieving team turned up, it was quite strange as I knew all of them but they arrived as strangers. They had not changed - we had, although at that time we were unaware of that. We gave them as much knowledge about how we had operated during the hand over period and it was a shock to them, as we had moved a long way away from our usual accepted method of operation, but they soon grew to accept that this is the way it is done here.

Returning from Vietnam was very weird indeed. Team members took leave before taking up their new postings. Because the war was so unpopular, we were not welcomed back in any way. No one was interested so you just tried to fit back in as best you could. You were on your own. You last saw your team mates at the airport on arrival. Next thing you were with your family as if nothing had happened. They too had been numbed into apathy by the ongoing anti-war sentiment. Wives and mothers watched warily for any strange behaviour in their husbands and sons, and even fathers thought a few beers with your mates and it would all be behind you, as we weren’t in a ‘real war’, like theirs had been. In time they all came to realise that their sons and husbands had changed and were not the boys they had known. Your ‘head’ was still in Vietnam, but back home it was as if you had never been there. No one cared or wanted to know, and you were not about to raise the subject. Back in the Diving Branch I sensed a certain undercurrent of jealousy from those who hadn’t gone. This drove you deeper into your shell, as mentioning anything about Vietnam would seen to be ‘big noting’ yourself. This feeling exists still to this day and Vietnam is rarely mentioned to those outside CDT3. The camaraderie with your team mates remained; however they were already in different postings. The Navy as a whole treated us with total indifference. Australia’s commitment to Vietnam was over, and the chain of command’s attitude was as if it had never happened. To this day I feel very uncomfortable discussing Vietnam with anyone who wasn’t there.

On my first Anzac Day back in Australia, three of my mates and I, all in Number 1 Dress Blues and all wearing Vietnam medals were denied entry to the Kings Cross RSL club in Sydney. It was a far cry from the way World War 2 veterans had been treated. We came to accept that being a Vietnam Veteran was something best kept to yourself, and only you, and you alone, could deal with this sense of being somewhat of an outcast in your own country.

When we arrived back, the first thing to happen was four weeks leave, so once I was back from leave I joined CDT2 based at HMAS Rushcutter, a team which I had been in before. I knew most of the members and from my recollection, not too much was ever said about my time in Vietnam. A few months later I was posted to HMAS Yarra for a year. The RAN never said too much either until two of us were decorated, myself and Brian Clark. Then the Team was awarded a USN Decoration, which was made a big thing out of, with TV and newspaper articles. My family were of course glad to have me back in one piece. My father summed it up when he later said, 'We got back a different bloke to the one we sent'.

When I returned from Vietnam there was no debriefing, no discussions on the group or individual level, no post mortems whatsoever. What we had seen and learnt was disregarded by the office management. Admittedly I was only a ‘baggyarse sailor’ Perhaps the Boss was debriefed. But there is always a gap between the Boss and the boys. While I appreciate the immense difficulties of commanding a CDT3 team, I don't recall Lt Burns hauling himself down an anchor cable in a six knot current on a breath dive, or any of the other ROUTINE diving work. No criticism of the Boss is, of course, intended. All I'm saying is that the Navy didn't seek out feedback from the baggy arses at the 'coalface' as it should have!

I believe as we boarded the flight back to Australia, I sensed something was different immediately. The atmosphere was very somber, there weren’t any celebrations of being a victor or survivor or a job well done or being reunited with your loved ones, and this was confirmed by the eyes of all passengers. I knew I was withdrawing from others and my Team mates in particular, then and there, and till this present day nothing has changed. Back in the Diving Branch you were treated, I suppose, with a little suspicion of being different, with resentment/jealousy and slotted back into a mundane ‘Colonial’ routine system of cleaning toilets, with the subtle reminder ‘you’re not in Vietnam now’. On occasions you were asked ‘What was it like?’ The reply was always played down and non-committal as you did not big note yourself. I felt numb/dazed in a surreal world of a displaced person and did not fit in anymore, and developed the attitude of ‘you wouldn't understand’. The Branch became divided with a ‘them and us’ attitude and still exists today and sometimes with great bitterness. I never did have a close family and little difference was made on returning from Vietnam except being further distant. With friends and other contacts it was impossible to feel close to anyone and you were the outsider.

The RAN basically didn’t want to know. There was no debrief, no follow up discussions, no questions, no information. All we got was our pay at Sydney airport when we arrived home and then sent on leave before joining our next posting about four weeks later. The end of our service in Vietnam from the RAN’s perspective finished when that final pay packet was handed to us at Sydney airport.

I think many of my CD mates resented the fact that I had the opportunity to serve in CDT3 in Vietnam when they didn’t and some projected a ‘stand off’ attitude and stayed away. They didn’t like us talking about our experiences and I think we were really viewed as outcasts. In what was a sad indictment of the overall situation, the CD branch was subsequently split in a divide between the Vietnam and non-Vietnam personnel after the CDT3 Vietnam veterans formed their own Association.

My participation in the Vietnam conflict effectively ended my relationships with school friends and civilians of my age. I had changed and they now seemed somehow immature, with a chasm of difference between our respective outlooks and interests. My Uncle Mick stated at my wedding in 1972 that he and other members of my family had noticed a significant difference in me since I returned from Vietnam. In his words, ‘We sent away a boy and a man came back’. The best way I can demonstrate the reaction of those that were close to us is to reflect upon a party that many of my CD friends and their girlfriends/wives attended in 1973. Some of the guys were discussing the increasing number of soldiers that were presenting with psychological issues as a result of their participation in the conflict. I can clearly remember saying ‘I don’t know what is wrong with the poonces; there is nothing wrong with us’. A very unexpected response resounded from right across the room where my wife had heard what I said and she stated, ‘You don’t have to live with you, do you?’ That was like a dagger to my heart. I had obviously changed but I hadn’t identified that change occurring.

At the time, we were all exposed to, and fully supported, the Government/Military view that the Communists had to be stopped somewhere and South Vietnam was to be the battleground. We all knew that Australia’s contribution was minuscule in the overall picture; however we knew and took pride in the fact that Australia possessed a very professional military. We felt our contribution, albeit small, was very important. We were doing our bit, and we knew we were doing it well.

Over 35 years have now passed so it is a relatively simple matter to dissect and analyze in hindsight the rights and wrongs of the war. Many veterans now have differing views as to whether the Americans and the Australians should have become involved in Vietnamese politics. The ‘domino theory’ certainly applied to the Soviets, but it is less clear whether or not the North Vietnamese communists were solely interested in the reunification of the two Vietnams. Their goal was certainly to create a totalitarian Marxist society throughout the length and breadth of Vietnam by creating terror and subjugating the southern non-communists. We, at the very least, delayed the encroaching communist juggernaut.

I believed in it, believed in the cause and in my country: believed that we had to fight and defeat the bastards in their backyard before they got to ours. We'd beaten the Communist insurgents in Malaya, defended against the Indonesian insurgents in Malaysia during the Confrontation, and we were committed to the defence of South East Asia as a member of SEATO. There was no question of us not ‘pulling our weight’ wherever it was required. Even though our (the RAN's) contribution in Vietnam was only small, it was not, as Jeffrey Grey points out, insignificant. We CDs, along with the helicopter crews, ‘brought highly specialized skills which were in great demand by the Americans’. [Grey, Up Top, pp 71, 72].

But while we were over there doing our bit standing against the onslaught of communism, its buds had already begun sprouting in our own backyard. The fact is, we were fighting a war on two fronts: the most formidable, as we were to find out when we returned to Australia, was the Home Front, the so called Peace Front. My criticism of the Vietnamese who supported the VC (they didn't really have a choice) paled against the anger (bordering on hatred) I felt towards the people in Australia (including senior politicians) who actively and openly supporting the communist enemy.

I totally supported Australia's intervention in the war but question the political restrictions imposed and the strategy used by the Americans in a guerilla war. Guilt developed in the years following about our involvement in Vietnam but was explained by the 'shrinks' as ‘the veteran absorbed the guilt of a nation in social and political changing times’, i.e. flower power, long hair, drugs, gays, Labour ministers marching with protesters and questioning authority in general. Soul searching has convinced me that becoming 'Antiwar' is naive and am comfortable that I, as an individual, did the 'right thing'.

I am also a very strong subscriber to the ‘domino effect’ situation with potential for countries progressively falling to communism in South East Asia and the prime purpose of our involvement was to stop that from happening. I believe that by limiting the US military ability to take the fight to the NVA on the ground in North Vietnam the government of the US completely negated any chance of victory. The war was fought completely in accordance with the timetable and objectives of the North Vietnam government with significant support from China and the USSR. Today, I still find reason within myself to support our actions in Vietnam. I cannot find it in myself to subscribe to the inability of our political masters to find a political solution or to deliberately limit the military capability to effect victory. I do believe that we stopped the march of communism. I have traveled back to Vietnam on four occasions and I hold no resentment for any Vietnamese people from either side of the divide.

Vietnam was a major milestone for the Branch. Prior to CDT3 being formed, the RAN CD was basically a clone of the Royal Navy (RN) CD. Serving alongside the US military in an active war zone changed us forever. Returning OiCs eventually found their way into senior and policy-influencing positions. In time, young sailors who had served in the teams became the instructors who were to train and mould the next generation of CDs. There were some ‘old school’ RN-trained officers who disliked the change but, fortunately for the Branch, common sense prevailed. As a direct result of serving alongside the Americans, an exchange billet was eventually created between the USN EOD community and the RAN CD Branch at both officer level and senior sailor level. It is ongoing to this day. As a consequence, the RAN CD has retained the best of the old school training (‘the world’s best combat swimmers’ - quote by a senior USN officer) including core skills such as salvage, mine identification and disposal, and explosive demolition but acquired new levels of expertise appropriate to today’s military demands, such as sea-air-land insertion techniques, maritime tactical and counter terrorist skills to name a few. Without doubt, the experience of and exposure to Vietnam was the major catalyst for change.

The CD specialization attracts personnel who are achievers and, in the main, have a great sense of responsibility. Because of that, they learn from their experiences and those of their predecessors. The specialization has come a long way from its WW2 origins and has evolved into one of the most respected groups in the defence community. So yes, our experience in Vietnam did help to develop the Branch as each of the other operations they have been involved in has.

The RAN Clearance Diving capability and way of doing things changed considerably as a result of the Vietnam conflict. In conjunction with the retirement of the RN presence in SEATO and the removal of the entire British influence in our neighbourhood, our alliance with the US had strengthened inexorably. We changed many of our EOD procedures to reflect that learnt from US EOD manuals in Vietnam and we introduced many US EOD tools.

Though EOD was the continuing theme of the daily work of the eight contingents, the great variety of duties performed, of which perhaps the special operations in Viet Cong occupied territory were the most noteworthy, brought out the value of RAN clearance diving training, and the versatility of the men of the clearance diving branch.

Even though the men of CDT3 had learnt a great deal from the experience of Vietnam, it is a sad reflection on the Navy in general that post-Vietnam there was little interest in capitalizing on, or consolidating that extremely valuable experience. Fortunately for the CD Branch, sufficient numbers of ex-CDT3 men remained in the system to keep the lessons alive and influence the direction in which the Branch would eventually evolve.

CDT3’s Vietnam operations were unique in the history of the Branch and the RAN. Team members were aware of this and of the need to ensure that their experience became the basis of future CDT training in the Navy. As noted, inert versions of ordnance encountered were prepared and returned to Australia and a meticulous log of team activities was compiled for the benefit of future generations of divers. Unfortunately, neither the Diving School nor the wider RAN collected and preserved these records, nor debriefed returning team members. As a result, few records remain and most are in the personal possession of team members.

I don’t think the recognition issue means much. Most of the teams received none from the RAN or the politicians when we arrived home. It was an unpopular war and the politicians wanted to wash their hands of it, and those who served, as quickly as possible. Even the RSL (World War 2 veterans) wanted nothing to do with Vietnam veterans. Post- Vietnam, the men of CDT3 have consistently received higher praise from the American Military than they have from their own.

The history books and personal memoirs will in time reveal the full extent of operations, incidents and statistics but, outside of my team mates, I don’t particularly care about recognition from those who weren’t there. We can take pride in the fact that we did our job to the best of our ability and we did it damn well. That’s enough.

Perhaps the only thing owing to us as Vietnam Veterans was a little more respect from the Australian community at large for what we did. We were young servicemen sent to an unpopular war by the politicians of the day to do what every Australian soldier/sailor/airman has done since Gallipoli – his sworn duty. Vietnam Veterans certainly deserve the same respect as veterans of every other war that Australia has sent her servicemen to fight in. It has finally come, but it took the best part of 20 odd years.

What is owing to us from the general public is something they do not have the mental or moral capacity to give. I expect nothing from them. But, in terms of CDT3, I do expect something from the system. When the war historians put together a documentary of Australia's involvement in Vietnam, as in the recent ‘Australian's at War’, documentary, I expect that CDT3 at least get a mention as having been there. We don't want accolades. We just want the recognition that we did our duty! All we want is a ‘Well done, good and faithful servants’.

Many of our members were rightly recognized for individual acts of bravery and many of the teams were recognized collectively for their professionalism and performance. This recognition was indisputably justified but from a collective point of view much of it came from our US allies…I do not believe that the Australian population will ever really recognize the contribution to regional stability that our servicemen in Vietnam ultimately provided. The results of the Vietnam War were not evident in 1975 but they are now. We live in a reasonably stable political environment with limited chance of conflict. Much of this situation is due to the very expensive cost of 58,000 US and 500 plus Australian lives lost in Vietnam. If Vietnam veterans are due any recognition, which I am not convinced we are, it is simply that ‘We did our job and we did it well’.

Statistics aside, it is impossible to quantify the achievements of CDT3 in South Vietnam 1967-71. There is no doubt this small band of Australians was known and respected for professional ability wherever the men operated. Man for man, there probably was no more effective unit deployed during the war in Vietnam, on either side.

To see danger and face it calls for its own character of resolve. To seek to find danger in order to protect others, and to conduct that search in waters that shut out all sight, calls for a very unique character of human resolve. And that is precisely what distinguished those who served with the RAN Clearance Diving Team in Vietnam. They were a very unique body of men and they contributed in a very unique way to the record of service of the RAN. In all their activities constant courage was to be found. And here too was to be found that great stimulant in human affairs – humour. This indeed was mateship at its very best.

The Editorial team is to be commended for publishing Tony Ey's account of CDT3's experiences in Vietnam. This is real, fundamental, `coal-face' history and I can't recall reading such a blunt article on this topic before. It is well that the Society has recorded it because you can bet your life that no such nasty stuff will have been recorded anywhere officially.

I did not serve in Vietnam but I was the Engineer of 723 Sqdn at Nowra which was deeply involved with training pending Vietnam postings. The two CO's and several senior and junior sailors during my time on the squadron were Vietnam Vets and two of my friends did not come home alive. Ergo - I had a fair feel for what was going on up there. It did not occur to me at the time but I later realised that none of the fellows ever spoke much about their time in Vietnam; anything I learned had to be `pumped' out. I later began to realise why and Tony's article has even more clarified the observation. One can feel the bitterness in his article, which must have wrenched his gut as he composed it. He is to be congratulated for having written a plain matter-of-fact article without too many derogatory adjectives and adverbs. At least it is now in the public domain. I hope a few relevant retired naval officers of the day read it. The same cannot be hoped for contemporary civilians; they just don't want to know.

Some readers will have seen the ABC TV program a few years ago Say a Prayer for Me, the story of Army Chaplains in Vietnam (I have a copy of the tape). Most of them returned and got back into routine parish life but all of them remarked, some bitterly, of the way some of their fellow `Christian' ministers and priests ostracized and reviled them. Our servicemen went to Vietnam because they were sent - many unwillingly - by a government which was elected by other Australians (who did not have to go to war) and why weren't they entitled to spiritual comfort like any ordinary parishioner, and who better to write to their parents when a son or husband was killed. Vietnam was Hell and the padres went to Hell to help ordinary young Australians who were thrust there like-it-or-not."