I was conscripted in 1968 and began my Army recruit training on January 29, 1969. Assigned to the Royal Australian Electrical and Mechanical Engineers, I served in Vietnam for 51 weeks with the Australian Logistic Support Group on the outskirts of Vung Tau. Our routine included a six-day work week, with Sunday mornings reserved for housekeeping duties and painting rocks white. While I was thankful to serve as a non-combat soldier—aside from participating in one overnight patrol behind the US Army airfield—the repetitive nature of my work as a general fitter was mentally draining.
To break the monotony, I threw myself into extracurricular activities. I taught English at a night school for eight weeks, volunteered as a radio announcer on Australian Forces Radio for nine months, and even went AWOL during my five-day in-country Rest & Convalescence leave. During this brief escape, Bob, an American friend, Munchy, a fellow Australian soldier, and I hitchhiked by helicopter to a US base near the Cambodian border. There, we joined our hosts—a US Aviation Battalion—on tactical missions aboard Huey helicopters. One unforgettable mission involved dropping flares over a major battle at 2 a.m., and the following night, the base came under rocket attack. Returning to Vung Tau before the curfew proved challenging. It took a chopper ride to Long Bin, another to Ben Hoa, a transport aircraft to Saigon and finally to Vung Tau on a RAAF Caribou. However, just in time, we found chopper rides and arrived 15 minutes before we were due to report back.
With my thirst for adventure now satisfied, I completed my remaining months of service without incident and made it 'home' safely.
Footnote:
Munchy (real name, Trevor) and I were absent without leave in a war zone. Had we been discovered by the Australian Army, we would have been court-martialed. During our time at Quan Loi, and getting to and from, we rode in five different aircraft types, and spent at least 30 hours, about half of which were on various missions (searching for enemy and dropping illumination flares). Our names were not on a single passenger or crew manifest. The two pilots we flew with at Quan Loi had six weeks left of their 12-month tour to serve, five after we left. They had twice been shot down and endured three forced landings with power failures.
One of the pilots told me that he had received his documentation for leaving Vietnam, would pass through Vung Tau, and would call in and visit me. I never took him seriously, until I got a message to report to the Orderly Room. And there he was! Strap (I never knew his first name - only his call sign) stayed the night but had to be accommodated in the officer's lines. The US Army had a rank called Warrant Officer for professional specialists such as helicopter pilots, and medical professionals (apart from doctors), among others. They were considered officers but you did not salute them as they weren't commissioned. Apart from their own aircraft, they never held a Command. I'm guessing but I would think about 80% of US Army aviators were Warrant Officers. The Strap was a mess. It seems that his co-pilot (Call sign: Hat) was dead. He could not speak about it without breaking down. I never did discover the circumstances of his death.