Chapter 7
THE GAMUT OF EMOTIONS

The emotional impact of returning to a war zone will affect everyone differently. Education levels, ethnicity, religious beliefs, family upbringing and personal environment all shape the way we think and therefore how we react. We cannot throw a blanket over the group of individuals we call war veterans and expect them all to act the same way simply because they all served in the same war. Even men from the same rifle section or gun crew can experience different reactions on seeing their former tent lines, chopper pad and battle sites.

Tour guide Garry Adams is almost considered a ‘local’ as he spends most of the year working in Viet Nam. He was asked how he felt after his first trip back and he replied:

I wasn’t satisfied at all. I hadn’t seen what I wanted to see. In the view of getting it out of my system, it never happened that way. It took me not quite twelve months to come back again for the second trip.¹

Without doubt memories will be stirred and if the veteran is accompanied by mates with whom he served, the odd phrase or saying will crank up the brain cells and soon a wave of images will come flashing back. Not everyone will experience that feeling; some will be totally blank and offer ‘I don’t remember that’ when everyone else will say, ‘sure you do’.

But we are also talking about a war that happened more than three decades ago. A lot of water has passed under the bridge since then, and memories do fade. I recently saw a photograph of myself in Nui Dat, and simply cannot remember when and why the photograph was taken or who took it. Such is the impact of age upon the memory banks, as Ron Shambrook discovered when he returned to Long Son Island with the 5 RAR group, and couldn’t reconcile the adjutant’s recollection of the operational fly-in with his own version of events. They were able to clarify the situation with the help of a map, which showed that there had been two landing zones, which accounted for the conflicting memories. As Ron mused:

Some of our memories aren’t as good as we thought they were. And between your collective memories, it helps a lot. And I’m so delighted that I’m going back with a much broader and much clearer understanding of things . . . I wouldn’t have enjoyed it near as much if I were doing it by myself.²

Garry Adams has seen hundreds of veterans return to Viet Nam and offered these comments about the reactions he has observed:

I think perhaps a few get rid of the ghosts that they may be harbouring, but I think for most of them it more or less gives them an idea of what Viet Nam is like now rather than what they think it was 30 years ago. They can see the Vietnamese are real people; they have lives. They can be quite generous and friendly and it should give them a different perspective on what Viet Nam is like, but in peacetime rather than in war. I think all this business about ‘lifting all the ghosts’ and this sort of thing, maybe in some cases it works, but in a lot of other cases I think whatever memories they had about Viet Nam in wartime are still going to be there. But at least they can go back and look at it in a new perspective, and say, ‘Well look at the country now’, and maybe it is time to move on.³

Some men react in a fashion that others might find upsetting. I have seen men break down and cry, in some cases almost inconsolably. And on a personal level I’ve been ‘hit between the eyes’ when suddenly and unexpectedly a vivid memory came flashing back, and literally stopped me in my tracks. I needed to just sit down and think about what I had experienced and collect my thoughts before moving along. But these feelings will pass and it is one reason why returning with someone who understands what you have experienced in war is a good thing. Total strangers will not have a clue as to what you are feeling or why you are looking at a dry paddy field and sobbing.

Garry Adams recalled a few instances where this type of reaction occurred:

I have had a few occasions, particularly with the ‘bush soldiers’ . . . mostly the infantry and the field soldiers; you get to places and some of them do have problems. A place I have found that stirs up more memories than anywhere else is Cu Chi and the tunnels in Cu Chi. But especially at Cu Chi when they walk into that narrow track and they are back in the bush again for the first time, and I have had guys that have stopped dead and can’t take another step. I then have to take them by the arm and say, ‘It’s okay.’ I was quite moved when you hear that drivel [Viet Cong propaganda] on that film [shown at the site] and I am more content to just walk away and sit down for a bit, and for some of them it never goes away. It doesn’t, no matter what you have done in the meantime; whatever happened on those tracks always stays with you when you get back into that situation. It always comes back.⁴

Of all the places I have visited, Cu Chi is one that will bring back memories more than any other. The smell of the jungle, the proximity of the bush, the footpads and the dress of the soldiers that work in the military reservation all combine to evoke often powerful memories. The incident Adams was referring to at Cu Chi occurred on a visit in 2002 and involved former 6 RAR rifleman Steve Campling, who was suddenly overcome with emotion when he entered the jungle at the now very popular tourist destination. Steve needed to sit and relax and understand that what he experienced was common for a veteran; he was soon his normal self again. It was a reminder to all in the touring party just how much we can keep a lid on certain things and how easily it can be prised open. As Steve said of his visit to Viet Nam in 2002:

The only downside was the visit to the Cu Chi tunnels and my first encounter with the real ‘J’ [jungle] as I remembered it. It was raining; locals were walking along tracks through the undergrowth, and the sound of AK-47s being fired on the rifle range all combined to bring me ‘undone’. I was overwhelmed . . . It took a good hour to regain my composure, along with the help of a couple of my travelling companions who were on their third or fourth trip back.⁵

The tunnels at Cu Chi are almost as they were during the war, but veterans who haven’t been there should be warned that halfway through the complex there is a small theatrette that shows a propaganda film that is really quite offensive to anyone who fought against the Viet Cong. It is defamatory to Allied soldiers and also insults the intelligence of those who view the film. However, there is little point getting upset about it. As I said to my 21-year-old daughter Kelly after she watched the film in 2002 and asked me, ‘Surely that’s not right, Dad?’, ‘Winners are grinners and can rewrite their own history.’

Cathartic or not?

Some people believe returning to the war zone will have a cathartic effect and cleanse the suffering of the past. However, the term ‘catharsis’ is popularly misunderstood. As The Macquarie Dictionary notes, in psychological terms catharsis implies ‘an effective discharge with symptomatic relief but not necessarily a cure of the underlying pathology’. In other words, just going back to Viet Nam will not necessarily resolve any underlying mental issues one might have with having served in the war zone. Dr Ted Heffernan was asked if going back had been cathartic for him and he replied:

Ah, no. To be honest I don’t think so because I don’t know that I have too many hang-ups about it all—I think because our role [as doctors] was a bit different. I wasn’t coming out of there having killed people; I was really trying to help everyone. So that was pretty easy to do and in line with what I’d done before the first time I saw dead Diggers here. I’d seen dead people occasionally in car accidents and although it’s terrible because they’re young, it’s not as much of an effect as it was on their fellow soldiers that were all looking and saying, ‘There was a mate . . . from this morning.’ But it was sad and the only time I really reflected on the total wastage of young life was when I had to go down to Vung Tau and identify Peter Williams’s body after the mine incident at An Nhut.⁶

You don’t actually have to kill someone to be affected by the horrors of war. Ted was asked to go to the morgue and identify the bodies of the Australian soldiers killed, and the American sergeant in charge of the morgue (this was before the Australian morgue had been established in the field hospital at Vung Tau) began unzipping several body bags to find the Diggers. Seeing the rows of dead in the morgue, Ted thought, ‘Well, jeepers. Look at this room full of plastic bags that were all fit young men three days ago.’ When Ted returned to the site of the mine incident at An Nhut in 2005 it all came back. ‘I thought about it again,’ he said. ‘I’ve often thought about that as the futility of war really, to be honest.’⁷

Ron Shambrook also didn’t think there was too much catharsis in the trip; for him, it was more a case of ‘the camaraderie with my colleagues. Reminiscing.’ However, he added: ‘It’s brought back a lot of memories, mostly good. You can’t turn back the past. If somebody’s dead or wounded, that’s occurred. You can’t turn that back.’⁸

Ben Morris did find that his three trips back have been cathartic, and have gradually helped him to deal with post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD):

Being back on the ground I have been able to scope it back down. It’s a bit like peeling an onion. So this has been part of the onion-peeling process and I’ve been in this for fifteen years.⁹

Ben did, however, have some guidance for other veterans with PTSD who are thinking about returning:

My advice would be first go to the Vietnam Veterans Counselling Service and talk some of your issues about Viet Nam through first. Because if you don’t start to look at those, they’re going to come out and grab you.¹⁰

Other veterans also expressed caution about expectations of catharsis. Peter Isaacs, whose main reason for undertaking the pilgrimage was ‘to remember those young men’, said he would recommend it for other veterans, ‘But only on the basis of nostalgia and pilgrimage. Not to overcome any nightmares they might have.’¹¹

The medicos in the group offered a similar view. John Taske advises veterans, ‘It can be cathartic for them, but some people it may affect differently—they may just open old wounds.’¹²

Tony White agrees that ‘veterans have a huge range of different ways of responding to the experience’. As a doctor, he notes:

For some it’s been a crushing thing. And some, I think, make the mistake of actually dwelling on the past and wallowing in it. I think that in a way is bad for them. But my feeling is that you don’t live in the past, but you should be able to visit it. And this is what in fact we’re doing. We’re visiting the past and it’s clarifying it in my mind, it’s clarifying it for Doffy and Rupert. And so it’s very good. For me it has always been the most important single year of my life. And, you know, most intense and vivid and so on. And so I wasn’t expecting it to be any more or less than that. And that’s how it turned out. It’s been spot on.¹³

When Paul Greenhalgh was asked if he found the trip cathartic he initially said no. Then his wife Wendy chimed in, pointing out gently: ‘Yes, but you had a change of heart—you didn’t want to come. So I think that in itself is cathartic. That you decided you would come.’ Paul looked at his wife and replied, ‘Alright. Yes babe.’ And she looked lovingly at her husband and rejoined with, ‘And you’re smiling about it.’¹⁴

Grieving

When servicemen were killed in Viet Nam their bodies were flown back to Australia, normally on a C-130 Hercules RAAF transport aircraft. At first, the dead were to be buried locally, but following protests by serving soldiers Kranji Military Cemetery in Singapore was chosen as the burial place. Then those who died in Viet Nam were buried in the Australian section of the British War Cemetery at Terendak in Western Malaysia. This policy was later also overturned, and remains were repatriated to Australia for burial or disposal at the next-of-kin’s request.¹⁵

If a serviceman was killed during an operation his body would be choppered or driven out of the battle site, then repatriated back to Australia. His mates would continue patrolling and fighting and maybe not return to camp for weeks after the event. A memorial service might have been held for those killed when the unit was back in Nui Dat or Vung Tau, but the pace of operations often meant that this service might not be attended by those wanting to grieve or to say goodbye. Consequently, there was often very little closure to the loss.

Returning to Viet Nam will often reignite that need for grieving, and it will not be uncommon to have those emotions impact upon the veteran when those memories are stirred up again. It is part of the process and should be allowed to run its course. Laying of wreaths is a delicate issue in Viet Nam today, and veterans are urged to instead place a single flower at a place for remembrance to avoid upsetting local feelings.

Don’t rush it

The returning veteran should avoid being pushed and hurried through the experience. Avoid the ‘Day 5, this must be Da Nang’ syndrome, and make sure that there is time to see everything that you want to, and have enough time in the itinerary to simply stop, look and listen. As Ben explained:

I had a bit of trepidation in the fact that I’d seen some earlier tours go through Vung Tau when I was there and I felt sorry for the people because they were rushed into Vung Tau and rushed out. They really didn’t have a chance to see anything. I think the design of this tour—having three days to be able to go over the ground reasonably slowly—is what was needed. There is this need to be able to stop, reflect and to relive.¹⁶

Ben explained, ‘The memories are vivid every day. Going back over the ground in some ways, it gave me a chance to demystify some of it and put it in perspective.’ As his group walked around Nui Dat, Ben found value in ‘sitting at 5 RAR headquarters, and then standing on top of the hill . . . and just being able to stop, reflect and just enjoying it’.¹⁷

Tina Wainwright believed Roger had felt the impact of returning to his old lines and conducting a small memorial service at Tiger Pad in the rubber plantation. Such events can take time to digest. When being interviewed, she looked at her husband and said:

. . . that night you were pretty emotional if you remember, because you felt like you would have liked to have spent more time. But I remember you said to me, ‘That was my home for a year.’ You know. ‘It’s like that was where we pushed off from.’¹⁸

Time to look, reflect and ponder is important on a pilgrimage; after all it is why you are there. Roger understood that there were limitations to time and space on the tour, but simply added: ‘I would have liked no more than half an hour just to wander round and reflect. [Look at] not just my positions but some of the other platoon positions as well and where the company kitchen was.’¹⁹

Also, it takes time to retrace old steps—but carrying old maps and records can help. Roger claims he has a good memory (he still owes me $10 from a bet in 1985), but said he did some homework before returning with the 5 RAR pilgrims:

I think I’ve got a pretty vivid memory of everything that happened over that period of time. And I did refresh myself by perusing Bob O’Neill’s book Vietnam Task again. And I had a marked map with me that I carried in 1966 . . . I showed it to Tina when we stopped on Route 15, and I could identify the exact spot where I was wounded and nine people in my platoon were also wounded. And down on Long Son Island, Gary [McKay] and I went round and I had the grid reference of LZ Dagwood where we landed, and Gary actually identified it from a distance through his binoculars. And I said, ‘Yep. There it is. There’s that spur where the helicopter landed.’²⁰

Tony White has had the advantage of having his old 8-mm home movie film to revisit over the years, so he had a pretty good idea of what it all looked like back in 1965. But touring around in an air-conditioned bus 40 years later brought an entirely new perspective to an old experience, as he explained:

If you could subtract all that horrible ribbon development, which is obviously a plague upon the face of the province, it’s very much the same. But I tell you, when you were with the unit, distances were a lot greater. I mean, here we are whistling around and going up to Xuyen Moc in an hour. That was the sort of thing that you’d think, oh, that’s a big chopper ride. So the distances then appeared to be big, much bigger than they really are. I mean, we had just this tiny area when you think of it, and that run up to Binh Ba, which was quite a safari back then. It was a dirt track. So it was that sort of elasticity of distance which was the most noticeable thing to me.²¹

Letting bygones be bygones

Staff Sergeant Bob Hann returned to Viet Nam in 1993 on an organised tour with mates from Delta Company, 4 RAR. Bob was in a pilgrimage group that was invited to socialise with former members of the D 445 Battalion at Long Phuoc Hai, but he was a bit uncertain how he and his fellow grunts would be received. The reception was not quite what he expected:

I came away with an immense respect for our former enemies. We were invited to share a meal and more than a few drinks with our former foes at what could best be described as a Viet Cong RSL. The hospitality shown to us by people so poor was incredible. Even now I pull out the photographs and ponder on what was a remarkable day. It was even more remarkable when you consider that their English was at least as fluent as our Vietnamese.²²

Bob found his own pilgrimage highly worthwhile:

I recommend it to anyone prepared to listen. It is a beautiful country populated by hard working, cheerful people who could teach us a thing or two about making the best of what you have.²³

Another veteran on that tour was Garry Heskett. I was also present, and we too were stunned by the total lack of animosity or angst from the ex-Viet Cong soldiers. It may sound like a cliché, but when the eighteen soldiers from Delta Company 4 RAR and the group of D 445 men came together and sank a few—quite a few!—beers, and then shared a meal, we were indeed ‘brothers in arms’. The camaraderie was palpable. Stories were being told through interpreters, jokes were being shared and, in a few cases, bullet wounds were being shown. Garry said he came away from that meeting with:

a feeling of self-achievement that I was able to locate and identify areas that for various reasons one way or another had an impact on me, which provided some closure. And finally—being able to share those experiences with former brothers in arms . . . I was impressed by the warmth of our reception from the majority of the people.²⁴

Peter Isaacs came halfway around the world from the United Kingdom to join his 5 RAR mates and found that the expectations and reservations he had quietly harboured did indeed manifest themselves after he arrived in country. He was glad he participated in the pilgrimage:

The apprehensions I had have turned out to be entirely predictable and true because I thought there would be considerable urban sprawl which has turned out to be the case, and I never like to see forest destroyed and ghastly advertisements put up all over the place. It happens all over the world and why should this be the exception? I was pleased that Nui Dat was pretty well as I remembered it when we got there. That remains as it was then, and I have to say it’s been a moving experience.²⁵

But this scarred, hardened infantryman with one leg and one eye and several campaigns under his belt articulated another emotion that can also be felt—especially on the first trip back:

I’ve actually felt a little detached somehow. On the one hand, over the last 39 years since we were here, it’s all seemed to be like yesterday on many occasions. Then one thinks about all the things that have happened in the middle and it seems a long time ago. Wandering round the places that we knew before, it has seemed a very long time ago. And it’s a bit like going back to school in a way. After all, we were—many of us—not that long out of school. I mean, I was 25 or so but, you know, young and impressionable. And now I’m not young and impressionable. So I’ve been detached and actually not as moved as I thought I would have been.²⁶

When the 5 RAR tour group visited the Long Hai Hills and were introduced to a former enemy officer, Peter was the only one in the group who avoided shaking the man’s hand. When later asked why, Peter explained his reaction:

I had no wish to shake him by the hand. My memory of the Viet Cong is they were a ruthless and murderous bunch. When I flew into the three villages that used to make up Binh Gia in 1966, I was told by one of the three Roman Catholic priests that had accompanied the inhabitants on their long journey from North Viet Nam after the 1953 Accords that the Viet Cong had abducted one of the [village] headmen, taken him across the paddy fields into the forest to the north and the next day, invited the villagers to come and see him. The Viet Cong had cut his legs off at the knees and put him in an ant heap as an ‘example’ of what non-cooperation could result in. And whilst he may have been an ordinary soldier, I don’t know. And I didn’t shake his hand; I didn’t want to be rude, but, no. That is why I didn’t want to meet any former VC in the Long Hai Hills or anywhere else.²⁷

Those memories and perceptions are something that the pilgrim will have to confront. Yes, war is a brutal and horrific event, but this does not of course condone some of the cold-blooded atrocities perpetrated by the Viet Cong as a deliberate policy within their revolutionary warfare doctrine. Personally I’ve found it best to put the past behind me and move forward and accept the former foe as being similar to myself: ‘just a soldier doing his job’.

Peter has reassessed how he looks upon his participation in the Second Indochina War.

My reservations now are, after seeing the development that has taken place under a Communist regime, had we not come here it would probably have ended up like this anyway, because oil and gas would have been found and that is undoubtedly the life blood of the economy at the moment. I thought at the time we were right to come and fight. With the benefit of almost 40 years’ hindsight, I think maybe we shouldn’t have come here. It hasn’t made any difference. But at the same time I don’t regret it.²⁸

Another thing that upset Peter is that the government has apparently practically bulldozed into the ground many ARVN graveyards and cemeteries. It seems incredible that this would be done as a matter of policy, but it appears to be the case. As Peter noted: ‘I would like to have met some former ARVN soldiers, but they don’t exist in today’s Viet Nam. There are splendid memorials to the Viet Cong, but the graveyards of ARVN soldiers have been totally obliterated.’²⁹

Infantryman Bill Kromwyk has embraced the Vietnamese people in more ways than one, marrying a Vietnamese lady he met on a pilgrimage there in 2001, several years after he was divorced. The strongest emotion he came away with on his first visit was:

The hospitality of the people, I think, and no sign of animosity. That really struck me. If you respect them they will be very hospitable and helpful to you, and okay watch out, because they are going to try and fleece you for every dollar that you have got.³⁰

Bill would urge veterans to ‘show respect—that is a big one. I think a lot of Australians have not been doing that, just from reports that I have had from other people, and remember that you are in their country.’³¹

John Taske explained his own feelings after meeting a former Viet Cong soldier at Long Hai:

I don’t know how the rest of the fellows think, but soldiers are soldiers—you’ve got a lot more in common sometimes with the enemy than you have with other people you meet, because they’ve been through the same things as you.³²

Similarly to Bill Kromwyk’s experience, described in Chapter 1, the fact that the enemy were ‘just blokes doing their jobs like us’ was driven home when John looked at a wallet retrieved from a dead Viet Cong soldier not long after he arrived in country in 1966. He recalled thinking, ‘God, poor bugger. He was just like us and now he’s gone. Some family’s missing him.’³³

Ron Shambrook met Lieutenant Hoang Ngan at Long Hai and reflected on his encounter:

That was fine. He had a job to do in war and I had a job to do in war. I don’t have resentment against particular people. If I knew they were the ones who did the murdering and the torturing of civilians and people like that I would have a different view. But until I’m aware of that, he’s a fellow human being just doing his job.³⁴

To go or not to go?

After returning for the first time in 1993, I can honestly say that I found it a healing process that allowed me to mentally move on. I felt more at peace after going back, and every subsequent visit has been more enjoyable, despite several unsettling incidents and run-ins with the Vietnamese bureaucracy over bungled permits in 2002. After that visit I did have terrible nightmares for a fortnight or so, which resolved with the help of counselling. I returned again in 2005 and had no flashbacks, nightmares or anxiety. Everything was fine, and I can’t wait to go back again.

Veterans who have made the journey back have been tremendously impressed by the genuine warmth and friendliness of the Vietnamese people. Without exception all will tell you that the decision to go back is a highly personal one.

Ian Ryan, a veteran from a former pilgrimage, put it rather colourfully:

I would highly recommend going back to anyone. It is like putting the lid on a garbage tin properly. If you do not put it on fully and tightly, the smell of the rotting garbage just permeates your whole mind and soul. You can never get rid of the stench! [Going back] just puts closure on your life.³⁵

He added: ‘It was closure of a chapter in my life that had been conveniently tucked away in the back of my mind; [I was] hoping it would just go away with time. It never does.’³⁶

Tour guide and leader Garry Adams believes going back with men from your own unit works well. After leading dozens of tour groups, he remarked: ‘Groups like the 5 RAR pilgrimage officer group are excellent because they all know each other; they have been bonded for a long time, they have kept in contact and there are no hassles.’³⁷

Being accompanied by partners is something to consider as well. Garry Adams has seen groups with and without and he believes it is up to the veteran and their partner to decide, but he made this observation:

Partners can be a big help in coming back to Viet Nam for some of the fellows, especially the ones who are a bit wobbly about things. Their partners generally tend to stabilise them. But then again you can get occasions, which I have seen, where the partners can be absolutely destructive. The boys want to go out and have a drink in a bar, or have a wander around with their mates and they are more or less shackled into their hotel rooms and not allowed to go. I have heard more than one or two decent old shouting matches in the corridors of hotels just purely because of that. So it can be double-edged, but I would say that 85 per cent of the partners who come back here are excellent, and then you get the other 15 per cent that should never have come. They should have just let them [their partners] come on their own. And if they come they should just shut up and let the fellers go to places like Long Tan and Nui Dat and enjoy themselves; just touch base there rather than [say], ‘Aw, what are we doing here? How long are we going to be here? Where are the toilets? What did we come to this place for?’³⁸

Women will also need to accept rudimentary conditions and toilets, but Gail Campling, who accompanied her husband Steve on a pilgrimage in 2002, offered this insight on the benefits of travelling with partners:

It was a wonderful experience for me as I appreciated more what our troops went through. I would recommend partners go as well, but I could understand some veterans would find it even more confronting with their partners present. They may not want their partners to see them distressed or disturbed. I am sure Steve appreciated me being there, mainly to hear and see first-hand some of what he experienced. I don’t think he could possibly relate to me the emotions and experiences had I decided not to go. Going with the veteran provides love and support as well when they are confronted with their ‘ghosts’; someone to lean on that isn’t as affected (in the same way) as those around them [other vets].³⁹

The mateship experienced on the 2005 trip by the 5 RAR group was a special element that all the men commented on. As Paul Greenhalgh remarked, ‘What a wonderful group we had. I mean, it was just magic. I didn’t really know what to expect from them all. But we had no show ponies, no loud people. It just worked smoothly.’⁴⁰

Garry Adams points out that the 5 RAR group were also fortunate in that their area at Nui Dat is accessible, and this made for smooth sailing:

They have seen what they want to see and we are probably lucky in some ways that the 5 RAR area is easy to get into and probably easier than some of the others. We couldn’t go back to 8 RAR’s area in Nui Dat or 3 RAR’s area because it is just off limits [D 445 Battalion military garrison]. And the areas that the first tour fought in or served in were all reasonably close in to the Task Force base and so in that sense it was easier for them to get around and have a look at things.⁴¹

However, it won’t all be plain sailing. There will be times during a visit when the locals can get to you, especially the hawkers and beggars who push themselves upon Westerners. Regardless of season, weather or terrain they will hound, harass and follow the tourist to the ends of the earth. They will even follow your tourist bus from one site to another, waving their products at you as they drive along. The best strategy is to just grin and bear it and give a polite ‘no thank you’ (preferably in Vietnamese), and never enter into argument about price or other purchases you may have made—you will lose every time! Hawkers and beggars are right in your personal space from the moment you step out onto the footpath in any major town in Viet Nam, but it is part and parcel of touring in much of Asia. To stop and buy or simply haggle is akin to opening a jar of honey on a picnic; you will be hit with a swarm of T-shirt sellers, dodgy watch purveyors and the occasional pick-pocket. So buyer beware.

Veteran Derrill De Heer has returned to Viet Nam several times, and would enthusiastically urge other veterans to consider making the return visit. However, he would encourage them to read up on the country beforehand, and ‘make an effort to understand the culture, religions, history. It’s rich and it’s great.’⁴²

As a final word, he added:

But before you do, decide what you are going back for. You will not find the past. The population of the country is 80 million. There have been 40 million born since the war ended, and their young are not interested in their history, so don’t expect them to be interested in you. Go to enjoy, don’t go and be sorry for the past, move on, make it a positive experience for yourself.⁴³

The trick cyclist’s (psychologist’s) view

Robyn Nolan is married to Viet Nam veteran and author Peter Nolan,⁴⁴ whose brother also served in South Viet Nam with the SAS. Robyn holds a Masters degree in clinical psychology, and began working with veterans in 1981 when she was doing her internship at the Veterans’ Administration Hospital in Washington, DC. At that time veterans were quite young, and research was only just beginning on the subject of PTSD. Robyn dealt with Australian Viet Nam veterans from 1989 until she retired in 2005, and as a guesstimate has seen and worked with several hundred veterans during that time.

I asked Robyn for her professional perspective on the possible reactions the veteran may experience on returning to Viet Nam, and she offered these observations.

Well, when anyone goes back to a place that was important to them at any time, they have all sorts of reactions, from very enjoyable reactions—nostalgia and remembering the good times—but as well as that, remembering the bad times perhaps, that they might have had there. So it will just trigger memories and it depends on each veteran and each veteran’s experiences in Viet Nam as to how they will react to the situation.

A lot of veterans have reported to me that they have found it a very healing experience, although they became distressed. Most said that they did become distressed at some point during their visit. Some felt annoyed at the way that the current Vietnamese talk about the war: in terms of them winning the war and the Americans and Australians losing the war. Although the veterans say they understand that, but at times, if they had been involved in a battle where friends were lost, then they found that very difficult. But others felt compassion towards the Vietnamese and in fact I know that some have actually taken on projects in Viet Nam to assist the Vietnamese. Others say they are surprised that Viet Nam has recovered from the war; many are surprised that there is very little left of where they might have been and that they have actually had trouble finding those places. They have looked for places of which they had memories.

I think there has been a healing process for some in that they have [previously] avoided dealing with or thinking about Viet Nam. Others have dealt with it in a superficial way by mostly thinking about the good times, I guess, and trying not to think about anything that was difficult for them. To them, Viet Nam is as it was then, and when they return, actually confronting the reality of the situation as it is now, I think that changes them. And it also makes them recognise the reality of where they are now and how far they have journeyed.⁴⁵

On a visit back to Viet Nam in 2002, I was arrested along with tour leader Garry Adams and 3 RAR (second tour) veteran Bob McDonnell, and incarcerated in a holding room in the police station just south of where the battles of Coral and Balmoral were fought. This was somewhat ironic, as Garry Adams was visiting the spot to assist the local People’s District Committee to locate a mass grave at the Fire Support Base Coral battle site. It was an administrative mix-up in permits for sensitive sites, but the local police officer was adamant in holding us miscreants for an afternoon, and out of mobile telephone range of Ho Chi Minh City. Eventually, just before dusk, the problem was sorted out and we returned safely to Saigon. However, upon returning to Australia I suffered horrific nightmares for fourteen days and was concerned that one might become reality, so I sought medical help. After being referred to the Vietnam Veterans Counselling Service I was referred to a psychiatrist who diagnosed PTSD, and then referred to Robyn for counselling. Consequently I have come to realise what impact events can have on veterans and how they can be treated.

For the benefit of other veterans, I asked Robyn what type of counselling and preventive measures they could undertake to make their journey less traumatic. She replied:

Of course there are lots of veterans who had problems almost immediately after returning from Viet Nam, for reasons that we know about. The Viet Nam War being a war that wasn’t accepted by a lot of Australians made it different. So there were those difficulties. But for a lot of those veterans who haven’t let themselves think about what happened, [returning to Viet Nam has] probably brought back a lot of those memories and they have been in a situation where they can confront the memories, and as I said before, accept the reality of how long ago it was and how the [Vietnamese] people have recovered.⁴⁶

Because we are all different in our psychological makeup, it therefore follows that we all have different reactions to various stressors in our lives. Robyn Nolan tackled this issue when asked to describe how we would expect to react:

We are different, but similar as well. People have lots of different experiences in Viet Nam to begin with. We know from the research that just being involved in any war is traumatic for everybody. Having to kill people: that is something that you had to be trained to do, because that is not something that we normally do, and [today] there is a lot of research that looks at those sorts of issues and tries to prepare people for those kinds of things. In the Viet Nam era, there was none of that, and people were sent to Viet Nam. Some people were highly trained people who had been in the military for quite some time and were expecting what they were going to run into. Others, as you know, were called up and given a lesser amount of training and sent to Viet Nam.⁴⁷

Many National Servicemen that I’ve spoken to weren’t aware that they could have avoided going to South Viet Nam if they wanted to. But they believe the main reason they went was because their group—the group that they were called up with and trained with—were going, and they didn’t not want to go with them; probably an extreme example of peer pressure in a macho environment. Robyn Nolan agreed, but added: ‘Yes, but what tended to be more the experience that I confronted was that it was more a case of not wanting to be excluded.’⁴⁸

Robyn outlined other reasons veterans can experience a whole range of reactions on returning to Viet Nam.

Everybody had a different role; I guess if you were in a battalion everybody had similar roles and different experiences. They came into the Army with different backgrounds, and we know that people whose backgrounds were very difficult for them—perhaps they had problem childhoods, and I certainly saw people who did have that—then they probably had less opportunity to get away from those sorts of situations. They wouldn’t have had that support that other people might have had. Having said that though, we do know from the research that post traumatic stress disorder can strike anybody, and it doesn’t matter who you are, basically. It has a lot to do with your experiences and how you were supported during and after the event. It is a very complicated matter and not everybody who went to Viet Nam has post traumatic stress disorder anyway.⁴⁹

Robyn’s observations hit the nail on the head, and also address what seems to be a public perception that because a veteran served in South Viet Nam, they are automatically— and as colourfully described by one American Army psychologist I met in California in 1987—‘fucked in the haid’. The Appendix discusses PTSD in detail and is designed to give the veteran a brief and uncomplicated look at what the disorder is and how to deal with the problem.

Robyn expanded a little on PTSD:

Many veterans probably have elements of post traumatic experience, but not necessarily the full-blown disorder. Many don’t even know that they have got the disorder. They just accept that they get the memories, flashbacks, nightmares, and problem times that they have had; that is just the way that it is and [they] haven’t bothered to do anything about it. I have spoken to a couple of colleagues about this, and we do know that some people without any symptoms go off to Viet Nam and then return with quite bad clinical symptoms; [in these cases it can] look like they just got it [PTSD], but they didn’t, they already had the problem but they were just not dealing with it very well.

Having said that, I don’t know whether there is any research or if anyone has carried out any research on people returning from visiting a battleground, but my own experience has been that most of the veterans that I have seen have probably been in therapy anyway before they went, so they are a bit better prepared and found it a healing experience. So I guess it might have to do with how well prepared you are and who you go with.⁵⁰

On a personal note, I did feel the need to speak with a clinical psychologist and answer some basic questions about preparing to return to Viet Nam before I actually went. I asked Robyn whether it was helpful for veterans, if they did decide to go back, to return with their spouse or partner. Her view was:

It depends on the veteran. Some veterans are very group-oriented and have maintained contact with their former mates in the Service and I think enjoy going as a group that they served with in Viet Nam and they therefore had similar experiences in Viet Nam. So it makes sense for them to go back to Viet Nam and to different places where they had served, and they could have a joint memory of what happened, and support each other.

Some have had their spouses with them and I think most of the spouses of Viet Nam veterans have been used to dealing with the veterans’ problems for a long time—if they have got any—but they can certainly give them support. If they have been married for a very long time they are pretty supportive of each other, they are probably good friends—best friends—so I think it is not a bad thing to have your best friend with you to be supportive of you, but I think that if you went with a group of people who you knew, I think that would probably at least give you that support.⁵¹

But what of the veteran who wants to go on their own and ‘do their own thing’? What would be the most likely scenario they could face with regard to psychological and emotional reactions?

If they went on their own and they didn’t have anyone there to reflect with them on their experiences and support them, then that could be difficult for them. I know from the readings of the American experiences, the men were quite surprised because they would suddenly have a problem experience when they weren’t expecting it . . . I remember reading about when some of them went back down into the tunnels, and one of the chaps who had really been quite impressed with the Vietnamese and the way things had been going along, and how well they had been received, took umbrage at the presentation [the Viet Cong propaganda film at Cu Chi] by the people there and got really angry and upset.⁵²

As discussed previously, the film at Cu Chi is fairly confronting, and the only time I’ve seen a veteran distressed was (Steve Campling) in that theatrette. Robyn shared some American observations that ‘there was no humility in the NVA victory; perhaps we don’t deserve it’. The War Remnants Museum (previously known as the War Atrocities Museum) in Saigon was also mentioned in an after-tour report, in which she said one soldier was quoted as saying, ‘But we certainly don’t deserve the treatment from the museum either and we are angry.’⁵³

Robyn added that it isn’t always easy to tell if a veteran is having a reaction, or what sort of reaction they may be experiencing.

Often we see somebody on television, maybe an old World War Two veteran, crying at a site. Okay, that is very nice for all of us to sit and say, ‘Well isn’t that nice that they had that experience’, but it may have been healing for that person, or it may not have been, we don’t know. You can’t tell just from looking at somebody what they are experiencing and you don’t know what the aftereffects of that are going to be, and nor does the person experiencing it until they leave—and perhaps later they are troubled by things and don’t know why they are troubled by things.⁵⁴

Returning to Viet Nam will most likely immediately trigger memories in veterans, both good and bad.

The most common thing is to have the memories as soon as you are there—as is the case wherever we go. If I go back to wherever I went to school I will have some memories; if I go back to where I did nursing training or went to university, I have some memories. And the memories are good or bad depending on your experiences. So they are going to have those memories and they may even have flashbacks, which are vivid daytime memories, and a lot of veterans have had those in Australia. This is while on the scene; they may re-experience the feelings they had while they were there, so they may experience fear or anxiety.⁵⁵

Veterans will also remember the good times, and have a good laugh about lots of things they did . . . and didn’t do. When they return home, some of those memories may continue; psychologists describe this behaviour as ‘re-experiencing’ things. As Robyn said:

When you are confronted with any kind of trauma, you may experience symptoms such as anxiety, re-experiencing, flashbacks, problems sleeping, problems concentrating. Usually that eases over time—say several weeks—but it can continue. Veterans who have had very long experiences—they may have been doing a number of patrols, been involved in a number of battles, been in the areas with mortars landing—may continue to relive the horrors of some of those situations if they have been back to Viet Nam.⁵⁶

However, Robyn points out that this can be therapeutic: ‘we [the psychology profession] regard confronting the situation as better than not confronting it.’ Perhaps the adage is true that ‘You can run from tigers but cannot run from your fear.’ Robyn explained:

Avoidance is one of the symptoms [of PTSD], and so we prefer that people don’t avoid. But they have to be prepared for that—they can’t suddenly be plonked back into the situation. You have to talk to the person about it.⁵⁷

When some soldiers returned from Viet Nam during and after the war they suffered severe nightmares. This appears to be a common reaction for those exposed to the horrors of war.

Nightmares are very common. Our brains are always processing things so you will probably have a lot of nightmares, which may resemble a situation that you were in in the past—or may not. They may just be unpleasant. Some people might then do some of those avoidance behaviours that they have probably practised all of their lives, where they might overuse alcohol or other substances to help them sleep because they might be having trouble sleeping.⁵⁸

Personal relationships may suffer when veterans who are losing sleep or are anxious become grumpy and irritable (psychologists call this ‘hyper-arousal’). If unpleasant symptoms persist, Robyn would encourage veterans who aren’t already in therapy to go and talk to somebody, even if it is only their local GP, as there are very many helpful strategies to help relieve their distress. As mentioned, I experienced delayed-onset PTSD some 29 years after my service in South Viet Nam, as a result of being incarcerated very briefly on a return visit in 2002, but as I discovered, PTSD is a condition you can learn to manage yourself; however, this may not apply to everyone as psychological makeup varies from person to person. You may need to be medicated for a period of time, but then again you may not. The important thing is to seek help.⁵⁹

If you feel you may be succumbing to the effects of PTSD, please seek medical advice at the earliest opportunity. The Vietnam Veterans Counselling Service is established Australia-wide and is able to assist veterans with psychiatric and psychological counselling, and, if required, medication. All veterans are entitled to free counselling whether they have a Gold Card or not.⁶⁰

The seven Ps

Just like the old Army saying that ‘Prior Preparation and Planning Prevents a Piss-Poor Performance’, veterans wanting to return to Viet Nam should apply the seven Ps. Robyn recommends that veterans who have already been seeing a therapist, even if it was quite a while ago, may want to contact that person, tell them they are going to Viet Nam, and just review some of the coping strategies that they have already learned.

There are many self-help books and a lot of useful information on the Internet for those who’d like to read up on the subject, or if you would like to have a chat to someone, contact your local Vietnam Veterans Counselling Service.

‘Stress inoculation training’ is also an option, and is something that is quite commonly done. Psychologists help prepare people to face their fears by gradually exposing them to fearful situations and teaching them better coping strategies to help manage and reduce their reactions.

Some veterans may wish to be ‘debriefed’ when they get back home after their trip, but Robyn emphasises that this is very much an individual decision.

It depends on whether they feel the need. There are two types of treatment; we call these defusing and debriefing. Defusing is what you do on the spot, where it is real—like a car accident, where you stand there and chat away to the guy, this happened and that happened, etc. Debriefing is something you can do further down the track and it really is just allowing you to talk about the experiences—rather than avoid talking about them at all.⁶¹

Debriefing in and of itself won’t necessarily prevent you having PTSD, but it does at least give you an opportunity to get some support. If you feel that things are going round and round in your head, then it’s probably best to talk to somebody about it.