IT WAS AUGUST 2006, a Monday night, and I was in Melbourne about to give a talk on this book. A woman came up quietly and spoke briefly to me. She was the wife of a Vietnam veteran, and wanted me to meet her husband. Naturally, he was the man standing alone at the rear of the room looking uncomfortable. As I approached him, he put out his arms and we hugged. In a disjointed conversation, he told me he had read the book in July the year before and, after reading it, had decided to give up drinking after 39 years … and he was still dry.
Jesus, I had to go outside for several moments …
Let me share with you the remarkable story so far of Well Done, Those Men.
Long before it became a book, during the year 2000, the pile of paper from which it was to come — loosely called a manuscript — was being handed around Bairnsdale in Victoria. It was passed around the veteran community and then started to spread some, particularly into schools and other institutions. I received a lot of feedback, mostly from veterans and their wives. It was this more than anything else that encouraged me to seek a publisher for it. Veterans were intrigued at the similarity of my story to theirs. Then there were the academics; they often told me that every senior student should read what I had written. Yes, the signals were there … people were reacting to what I had written with either a sense of similarity or almost disbelief at the average story of a Vietnam veteran, but still I didn’t realise what was about to happen.
Well Done, Those Men was published in 2005, and the early responses to the manuscript were quickly repeated on a larger scale. Not only has this book caused deep emotions in the reader. It has created another very unusual reaction — people feel obliged to respond in some way. Consequently, I have received letters, emails, and phone calls from England, America, and New Zealand, and from currently serving soldiers. Other readers have diverse backgrounds, ranging from teachers to politicians, police to priests, and the national president of the RSL to the secretary of the Department of Veteran Affairs. They include students and war widows, former Vietnam War protesters, and people who used to know a veteran and now claim they know him a lot better. Contacts came from soldiers from other conflicts, from prisoners of war and their adult children. Then, finally, as you would guess, the response from the Vietnam veteran community has been overwhelming, powerful, and very humbling. I now hold up the book when talking to veterans and say, ‘This is not my book. This is our book.’
Many people ask me about the words of the title, ‘Well done, those men’. When we first decided to go to print, the phrase simply popped into my head. My publisher immediately agreed to use it, and veterans love it.
It is also important to mention that this book has helped me. I am healthier now, more confident, and feel the best I have in forty years. As you would guess, in 2003, when I first approached the publisher, my emotional state was still quite fragile, and I now believe I had no concept of the position I was about to put myself in as an author. I didn’t give the fact that a lot of people would read about a large part of my life a great deal of thought. I blanked out the fact that it could involve some publicity, and had difficulty realising I was actually going into print. Looking back, I realise I was quite daunted by the initial release process, and for a time was at a loss as how to cope with being the centre of attention. I would swing from soaking in the praise to wanting it all to just go away. Henry, Miriam, Russ, John, and, in particular, Sue at Scribe were a great support and now, like me, acknowledge that I have grown in strength emotionally and gained in good health as the book went along its unusual journey.
Let me explain ‘the journey’. After the book’s release in April 2005 I had no idea of the mountain of letters, phone calls, and emails I was about to receive. Initially they started to filter in through via my publisher. Then, most came directly to me. I now understand that most vets could easily find me, as I stated in the book that I was 1st tour, 7RAR, that I am a member of our battalion association, and that I lived in Bairnsdale. Further, the TPI magazine, the RSL, many sub-branches, and Vietnam veteran groups did reviews or spoke in positive terms about the book. I believe that within a few months my name was well known throughout Australia in the veteran community, and most located me through the association.
As a consequence, the feedback from those that read the book started within weeks. After two months the letters simply poured in. Some days my letterbox would contain up to ten or fifteen letters. To that time, they were mainly from vets and/or their wives. The most intriguing thing was that every letter was the same; it was not that they were the same word for word, but they all carried the same message.
Veterans wrote such things as, ‘I laughed, I cried’ … ‘I couldn’t put it down’ … ‘You’ve written my book, Turd, now go and write your own’ … And some even wrote, ‘It’s the first book I’ve read in 35 years.’
Grunts mentioned the fear they’d felt during contacts with the enemy, and where they had wanted to get buried … in sand dunes and by the sea was the most common. Many were disappointed I didn’t have a photograph of Connors Hill in the book (which now features on the back cover of this edition). The record for the most number of jobs held by a veteran after returning from Vietnam was 23. And all of them admitted to being either a workaholic or an alcoholic. The other element in the book most commonly mentioned in the letters was the story of Tom Cook, the wonderful farmer from Ensay, who had written to me whilst I was in Vietnam. Some vets still had their letters or mentioned that their mum or someone else had kept letters they wrote. Like me, they cherished the contact created by the letters in that era.
Within a few months of the book’s release came what I now call the second stage. I guessed that the book was being passed around the family. Vets were being asked questions … somehow, the book was enabling vets to open up, to nod when asked that question and to offer explanations to family members who for years had been bewildered by their vet’s odd behaviour. The numbers of letters increased.
Wives wrote very moving letters of thanks … of seeing their man differently … of a new level of understanding.
Another interesting point was that most letters were written by hand. Although I’ve stated above that all carried roughly the same message, there were letters that brought me to tears or made me realise that this book was a catalyst for a change in vets or their families. Many wives said their vet had gone for help or assistance. That was humbling for me. But a letter that told of a family getting back together after over a decade of separation gave me a sense of satisfaction or joy that words could never fully explain.
Then there were the interesting letters.
How many authors can lay claim to the fact that their book has been attacked with a machete? At least the bloke involved — a vet — hacked his book to pieces, went and bought another, sent it to me, asked for it to be signed, and thanked me for having written the book. Note: I recommend this approach; it’s good for royalties.
At least five letters reported the book having been thrown around the room or banned from the house. All were written with humour, but I guessed at the time it wasn’t funny. I had many books sent to me asking simply for a signature and then for it to be returned.
After a few months I started visiting RSLs, veterans’ groups and the like, and many of the people in the audience wanted to talk to me. At the time I would have been emotionally drained, wanting some quiet time, and given out all the signals that hinted that I needed to be given some space. People did … thankfully. But later, within a few days, guessing that I had rested and that few people would bother to ring me, the opposite happened: the phone at home rang continually.
Perhaps I should point out that when I first mentioned to my publisher the amount of feedback I was receiving from the book, it became very obvious that I was receiving almost twice as many contacts as there were books being sold!
The first print-run was 4000 copies. By the time almost 2000 copies had been sold, I had received over 800 letters and over 2000 emails, and the phone rang every night. My guess would be that I’d had in excess of 3500 contacts. Many of the emails had attachments that included sites or links on the internet showing reviews or mentions of the book. I received over 100 newspaper and magazine clippings of articles on the book.
It became apparent that those bloody lousy vets were lending the book to their mates, or others were borrowing it! I bet the main culprits were those bloody Tankies — bastards, buy your own.
The national president of the RSL wrote a letter attesting to the importance of the book, and he mentioned it at every forum he attended and openly encouraged others to read it. The secretary of the Department of Veteran Affairs wrote me a glowing letter, stating that the book led to a better understanding of veterans’ problems and I could use his letter to endorse the book in any way I felt suitable.
By December 2005 I had received over 1200 letters, in excess of 3000 emails, and countless phone calls from the veteran community alone.
Then in 2006, from the wider community, particularly students, there were three times the figures above. The amount of contacts was nearing 10,000!
Let me explain. After a slow start from the non-veteran community in 2005, by the end of the year and early in 2006 the responses started to increase. Emails began to outnumber letters by a ratio of five to one, and the phone calls were constant; little did I realise you could look up my address and phone number on the internet by simply putting in ‘Heard Bairnsdale Victoria.’
As mentioned, emails started to pour in. The numbers were staggering. What was going on? Perhaps it was me, a naïve Vietnam veteran named Turd, who decided (not long after the book’s release) to send some emails to the 50-odd addresses I had in my address book of friends, family, and mates. I attached some snippets from the results of an internet search that a good mate had sent me. The recipients of these emails sent by me were forwarded onto other recipients and contacts. As well, after over a dozen radio interviews, I now had emails forwarded to me through each radio station. Naturally I answered them, and also added the email address to my ever-increasing address book. I might add here that ABC radio received a lot of emails. Then it started. I was getting emails that were being sent to multiple addresses. I was becoming a part of other people’s address books that were also forwarding mail. Many of their emails were about the book. With all the emails I received, I added the sender to my address book — even those that included multiple addresses. Hmmm, little did I realise what I was setting myself up for.
In March 2006, I recorded a reading of a condensed version of the book at the ABC studio in Sale, Victoria. The reading was going to be broadcast nationally, starting on Anzac Day 2006. It would be played every day for two weeks on ‘The Book Show’. It was all exciting, so in late March I sent an email to every address in my address book. There were hundreds of them … I think.
In April 2006 I was in Perth for our battalion’s reunion. On the Monday before Anzac Day, after a very moving ceremony in Kings Park, I was taken to the Perth studios of the ABC to be interviewed by Richard Fidler on the ABC Radio’s conversation hour. It was going to be broadcast on Anzac Day as well.
I missed hearing the first day of the book reading, but many of the wives, friends, and others who were in Perth said it was terrific.
In late April I headed back to Victoria. As usual, I slept for almost two days when I finally returned home. Then I was tied up for a few days. I admit I had turned on the computer a few times and it did say something about emails still coming in. I read a few — all of them were about the book reading. Many liked the fact that I was the reader, as they could hear the pain or emotion as I read some of the sad parts. When I went to turn the computer off, it said there were emails still coming in … Oh well, so what? I had heaps of mail to read anyway, so I turned it off. Several days later, I left the computer on to do a complete scan and I noticed there were emails still coming in … I guess we will never know what really happened or how many emails there were. There were so many it not only stuffed the hard drive; it caused a bigger problem. I lost almost all of the emails I had received over the previous 12 months. It was very disappointing. I managed to retrieve a few of them as I had used different email servers.
Apologies to those smart people who suggested to me several times very early in the journey of the book that I should consider setting up a web page with a guest book for people to sign. It was good advice I ignored.
So, in June 2006, I had my own web page.
Below is a rough summary of the feedback I have received on the book. It doesn’t include the veteran community:
• Letters came from protestors of the sad Vietnam era. They offered apologies and good wishes.
• Letters came from teachers, some 50 by Christmas, praising the book and suggesting it should be used in high schools in both history and English courses. During 2006 a lot of the contacts came from teachers, students, and tertiary people.
• Several schools have used the book in history, and in some year-11 classes it has been used as an English text. Many students have written letters indicating their lack of knowledge of this era.
• Several universities have been using the book for a reference and research resource; and after I visited La Trobe University and addressed their Australian History students, most contacted me personally and stated that they intended to use the book in future employment or studies.
• Psychiatrists wrote to me, saying they were recommending it to veterans and other patients. One had mentioned the book at a conference held in London.
• The book sold well in New Zealand after I did a radio interview with their national broadcaster. I had over 200 contacts afterwards.
• Politicians, both state and federal, wrote letters. I was sent a copy from the secretary of the Premier’s Office stating that the book had been mentioned three times in Hansard in the Victorian Parliament. Bruce Mildenhall, then Peter Ryan and Craig Ingram were mentioned, and I was informed that Dennis Napthine and several others had also read the book.
• I have had letters from police and priests. One priest sent me a Catholic paper that reviewed the book, and also a copy of his sermon in which he quoted from the book and referred to it several times. He encouraged his congregation to read it.
• After the launch of the book several major daily papers gave the book good reviews. Over the last twelve months I have received dozens of paper clippings from newspapers from all over Australia.
Before the launch of the book, my publisher’s publicist approached the ABC, and several radio interviews and a television broadcast were organised. ‘The 7.30 Report’ came to my home, and most of the radio interviews were also done at home over the phone. This, I believe, helped promote the book Australia wide. I might add that the ABC is a totally professional organisation, and I have a deep respect for them.
There were two interviews on the ABC I did that generated many responses. The first was an interview in 2005 by drive-program announcer Kathy Bedford. Her producer rang me, and said that Kathy had read the book and wanted to do an interview. A time was arranged, and I sat in my study at home and waited. It would be one of my first radio interviews. Kathy asked good questions, and I felt it was going well — I was even a little confident. Then she asked a very sad and delicate question about an incident that had happened in Vietnam. As I tried to answer, Kathy started to cry … on air. I was lost, suggested we go no further, and Kathy was having trouble remaining composed. It was a very powerful moment. Fortunately, she gathered courage, continued the interview, and remained composed almost to the end, when she started to break down again. When it was over I sat stunned. This, for me, was a very private, personal moment between two people, and yet we’d been on air. We hung up, and I felt a good deal of respect for Kathy Bedford. Obviously, the book had had a profound impact on her. She had said as much on air, but I didn’t realise just how much.
My phone went crazy. Many locals heard the broadcast, and rang to simply say it was one of the most powerful interviews they had ever heard. The response lingered for several days. But it didn’t stop there. In my travels I have heard many people recall that interview. A group of us were sitting at an RSL having tea one night when the subject came up. The bloke telling the story said he was driving his car when he heard it, then he’d had to stop, and cried along with Kathy. Another said he was painting his kitchen, then put down his brush, and went outside and sat quietly for ages. Both were vets. I have heard at least 20 similar stories.
The second interview I have already mentioned above was with Richard Fidler on 24 April 2006. Admittedly, I had already sent numerous emails to people telling them about the reading I was doing on the ABC starting the following day. Many people heard his interview, which went for 33 minutes. Those who missed it found the interview on the ABC web page, and listened there or downloaded it to MP3 players. For me, it was the best of all the interviews. He was very well prepared. However, it was what he said at the beginning that people latched onto and echoed in numerous emails.
‘It would possibly be the most powerful and moving war memoir I have ever read,’ he said. This somehow summed up others’ views.
After many requests, I put an attachment on my web page.
After the book’s release I gave 40 talks in nineteen months. Half were to veterans; the rest, to libraries, schools, and public forums. The talks, more than anywhere else, have been the functions where I have been most fascinated by the public reaction to the book. Many people, having read the book, talk of their previous ignorance of the complete story of the Vietnam veteran. Many in the audience have had a contact with a vet and regret their prior judgement or criticism of them. Generally, few people understood the complete history of our involvement in the Vietnam War. This has also been an eye-opener for me.
However, without a doubt, the most common topic that arises after I give my talk is Iraq. People draw comparisons between current conflicts and the Vietnam War. To sum it up, they see the folly and mess that was Vietnam being repeated today. Their anger towards America and our own government for our involvement in Iraq is not only strong; at times, people vent their anger and frustration at the media and our politicians in a way that indicates this section of our democracy has lost respect totally for our leaders and key institutions.
A typical example occurred at a talk I gave at a library. After my talk I asked for questions. A woman put up her hand and spoke at length about an incident that had happened in Iraq, at Haditha. An American soldier was killed, the soldiers vented their frustration on innocent civilians, and over 20 of them were killed.
The woman asked my opinion. What could I say? My response was that there were times in Vietnam when the hatred we felt towards the Vietnamese people was similar … and, yes, there were times I could see myself acting in the same way. That, sadly, is war … them or us … they all looked like the enemy.
There was silence. I felt I had said too much, had been too honest, when a man in the audience put up his hand. He spoke quietly in a tired, shaky voice. This is a summary of what he said:
‘I was an officer in Iraq and these things are true. The Iraqi people hate the Australian and other foreign soldiers, except for the Americans. They loathe the Americans. In return we, the soldiers, hate the Iraqi people. The people that throw the stones, abuse us, and shoot at us are not insurgents. They are the Iraqi people. It was exactly as you said it was in Vietnam … exactly. Don’t blame the soldiers — blame their politicians.’
There was silence. Like me, it appeared most people were slightly stunned. Then several people started to clap, others joined in … until everyone was clapping softly and slowly. They were clapping the truth.
After the talk, the young man came up and spoke to me. He was very distressed. I am not an expert, but I think he was a classic victim of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. He was having trouble settling, had left the army, was prone to violent outbursts …
What have I found by entering this environment of being an author? It has been fascinating. Beforehand, I presumed that most people understood the life of a Vietnam veteran. Yet I’ve come to realise that this book has provided a historic account of a soiled era that few people truly understood.
As a Vietnam veteran I have had an experience that has been simply awesome. I have travelled to many places with Well Done, Those Men, giving talks. I don’t drive, yet not once have I been found short when it comes to a lift or accommodation; there’s always a veteran at the station or bus stop. I am always greeted with a warm handshake, and I immediately feel at home. Without that support, I would not have lasted very long away from home giving the talks.
I am now of the opinion that the Vietnam veteran community is unique. Due to our sad history and initial lack of support, we are a very close, supportive group — far closer than any previous returned soldiers from other wars. Yes, the paradox is that we demonstrate mateship in the truest sense of the word. Mind you, there is certainly a need for this powerful bond, as the stories of sadness and tragedy are always there, and we are very fortunate to have one another for support.
In conclusion, there are a special group of people who deserve not only a mention, but also the highest accolades: our wives or partners. When I hear words like ‘courage’, ‘strength’, and ‘upstanding, fine Australians’, I think of my wife.
Almost every contact I have had praises my wife. One had a line: ‘Lyn for Prime Minister.’ What more can I add?
Thank you.