Chapter 8
REFLECTIONS

This chapter gathers together reflections of the veterans, their partners and children on the 5 RAR tour in 2005, for the benefit of other veterans who are contemplating returning to the battlefields of Viet Nam. There are very few negative comments from the veterans, and this is not because they have been edited out, but because there were very few negative aspects to report. Here the tour members offer their personal thoughts on what they came away with from their pilgrimage.

Almost all of the veterans I have interviewed and chatted with about their return to Viet Nam have emphasised the value they extracted from going back. Common responses included phrases such as ‘I’m glad I did it’ and ‘it gave me closure’. I cannot recall anyone who regretted their return visit. Many veterans said it was just a great experience being there with their former brothers in arms and that the bond created in wartime was just as strong four decades later. Of those who returned to Viet Nam with their partner, most said it strengthened their relationship. Many wives agreed that going back gave them a greater appreciation of what their partner had experienced and, after seeing their loved one back in the former war zone, they feel closer and understand their partner’s reactions and behaviour more than before.

The 5 RAR veterans

Paul Greenhalgh was ‘extremely glad’ that he made his pilgrimage with the 5 RAR group in 2005. Paul felt that his experiences and memories had been reinforced and validated, and that it had been a fulfilling experience for both him and his wife. Indeed, he added: ‘It would have been quite shallow and hollow if Wendy hadn’t been here with me.’ He mused:

Going to Nui Dat and going to The Horseshoe were the two biggest things for me . . . They have been very significant experiences for me. Forget the changes [in Viet Nam], it doesn’t matter. Just to physically go back and see it . . . The memories are there. They’re not all dark and ‘dirgy’ memories. They’re very positive ones from a very positive year in my life.1

Paul also had ‘a buzz’ at seeing the natural gas and oil industry development in Ba Ria–Vung Tau Province. As he explained, ‘My second career was in the natural gas industry. So I always had an interest in those flames [at the plant in Ba Ria] and to hear and see what happened to it.’ He added, ‘It’s funny, you go back in life and you often find things are smaller when you go back. But I was quite surprised how big that hill was at Nui Dat, even though half of it had been chewed off the top.’

Paul, whose 5 RAR rifle company went with 6 RAR back into the battlefield on 19 August 1966, found going back to Long Tan somewhat ‘spooky’. ‘Those sorts of feelings can send fuzziness up your backside,’ he said. Paul believes the Memorial Cross at Long Tan is very special, and recognises its iconic value to Australians. ‘But we have got to realise it’s their country,’ he added. ‘And all this confusion about who won and who lost—saving face. Well, that’s the reality of life. Thank God we’ve got something.’

When asked about the small memorial service that his group observed at Tiger Pad, Paul explained it was:

in memory of four of our company that died. We only lost four which was pretty lucky . . . It pulled things together. And also in memory of the second tour of 5 RAR. I’m so glad that we mixed the two together rather than just do our own memories and own names.2

Dr Ted Heffernan was also ‘very glad’ that he returned to Viet Nam. It allowed him ‘to see the enormous change in the country. To see how well the country’s done since we left. It’s incredible. It’s a bloody hive of industry. It’s fantastic.’ And like many others, he found the Vietnamese ‘terrific people’.

Returning with his wife Joy was important to Ted:

I think it’s a good thing really to point out to her where things were. She didn’t really appreciate what the ‘red mud’ was that people used to talk about. We certainly got an opportunity to see what that was like the other day.3

Ted described going back to where his tent lines were in Nui Dat as ‘fantastic’, but he tempered that reaction by saying it was good ‘just to be back there with people who’d been there at the time, and realise that we all came out of it pretty well’.4 Having been an RMO and seeing and dealing intimately with the debris and casualties of war is fairly sobering, and Ted reflected on that side of what the pilgrimage meant to him:

I was with a lot of blokes when they died, obviously, being the doctor. And you just wonder about what they gave their lives for. But yes, it does make you think about all that and it also makes you think about how lucky we are all here.5

The highlight for Ted was going back to Long Tan and standing in the rubber. He had been involved in treating casualties from the evening before and after the battle, and the significance of the Long Tan Cross is definitely not lost on him. As he said, ‘It meant a lot.’ Ted also took part in Medcaps out to villages like Xuyen Moc, Binh Gia and Hoa Long, and for the medico they were highlights of the trip he says he will always cherish. Doctors take the Hippocratic Oath to treat their fellow man regardless of whose side of the conflict they may be on.6 This was brought home to Ted when he returned to Long Hai and met the former enemy, as he recalled:

I thought that was great. They were just the same as us. I didn’t feel particularly uncomfortable about treating the enemy wounded. In fact, I thought they deserved to be treated well. And they were [treated well] by our guys.7

Ted believes that returning veterans should be aware that Viet Nam is not as easy a place to visit as when ‘we were soldiers once and young’, adding that veterans should ‘just make sure that they are reasonably healthy’. Ted believes that returning is very much an individual choice, but one that he’d recommend: ‘I’d say, “Go. Go and bloody do it.” And go and do it now. Don’t wait another five years.’8

Peter Isaacs is always a deep thinker and often talked about the political side of the conflict (not a recommended subject a lot of the time), but he thought that his return visit had altered his views:

I thought, probably until this trip, that we were right to have participated in the war. I’m not so sure now, but at the time I certainly thought we were right. I felt the loss of our 25 men quite deeply . . . I don’t know, I’m confused, but like soldiers before us, we did our duty, we served, and that is good enough for me now.9

For Peter, the highlight of his pilgrimage was ‘meeting my comrades again’. Comradeship means much to Peter, who lives and works on the other side of the globe, so for him it was more about being with his mates rather than the symbolism of a pilgrimage. He enjoyed his trip, had no regrets about it, but added: ‘I would never have come alone. And I’ll not come again. I have satisfied my curiosity . . . absolutely.’

Peter views the development of Viet Nam as being ugly, but appreciates the tenacity of the people: ‘Looking at the faces of those kids at Binh Gia: they are the future. It’s their grandfathers on one side that I have great admiration for . . . The ARVN soldiers who fought gallantly in many instances.’10

Ben Morris was glad that he and his second wife Jenny made the effort, even though he had been back twice before and Jenny had to return early due to work commitments. He wasn’t sure if veterans should come back alone as they might not be able to get clearances if travelling singly, and reflected on the benefit of having his wife with him on the pilgrimage. He appreciated:

just being able to talk to Jenny about a lot of things that I haven’t been able to in the past. She’s gone home with a lot more wisdom about that particular side of things. Having Jenny being able to see other people and saying, ‘Oh, that’s what you’re talking about . . . Now I understand where you’re coming from.’ So from the relationship point, it was great.11

Ben was also worried whether leaving a return trip for ‘something to do later’ would be wise:

The big problem I see for groups coming here in the future, if they don’t do it in the next five years, most of what we know and see is going to be totally obliterated. And you’ve got to realise that Vung Tau to Ba Ria is now one long big conurbation. And there’s people now living where there were no people . . . Nui Dat hill may not be there in five years.12

Cattle breeder and beef baron Fred Pfitzner had his tongue firmly in his cheek when he said he was glad he came on the 5 RAR pilgrimage because it got him out of the calving on his New South Wales property just outside Canberra. He was serious, though, when he remarked that the highlight for him was ‘going to Long Tan’. Fred served as the Director of Infantry during his career, and remains strongly imbued with the regimental spirit. He explained that Long Tan was so important:

because of its significance to the regiment in particular— although I wasn’t at or in any way involved in the battle. It is just a place of pilgrimage for members of the regiment. All wars are like that. There’s one point of commemoration of campaigns or major battles. There’s not little bits of skirmishes here and there. So that’s one point and it’s the appropriate point. And if we were never allowed back to the Balmoral and Coral areas it wouldn’t really matter because the Regiment’s memorial is there.13

Fred enjoyed the camaraderie of the journey back and loved having a beer with his mates at the end of a day’s touring. It refreshed him, and he said, ‘just reacting with other people reminds you of things you’ve forgotten’. Fred’s only regret was that his wife Helen was not able to join him because of her demanding work commitments, but Fred vowed, ‘I’ll come back some other time and go to the areas in the central highlands when I came over in 1965.’

What impressed Fred was the manner in which the Vietnamese people have got on with rebuilding their country since the war:

Because they’ve got one government that’s going to be here forever, in their view, and they’re taking the long-term view that politically our governments never do and they seem to have a blueprint for the future. And that’s evident, I think. And good luck to them. And once they get the oil and gas sorted out, I mean, you’d expect it’ll boom. It would have been pretty sad if it hadn’t moved on.14

Like Fred, Ron Shambrook was extremely glad that he came, and he also was sans wife as his good lady fell ill just prior to the trip and couldn’t travel. She insisted Ron make the pilgrimage with the 5 RAR men, because ‘she knew how much it meant to me’, Ron said wistfully.

Ron’s highlights were that he ‘got to identify some of the areas where we served. It brought back to me a lot of memories that perhaps had been put away in my mind somewhere.’ The fellowship was good for Ron as well: ‘Just talking to the other people on tour—that would trigger an item or a period of time, and I’ve enjoyed that very much indeed.’ Ron found the day at An Nhut especially emotional.

That was a very gut-wrenching day for me because I’d been relieving for some ten days as the SO3 officer at Task Force Headquarters. I took over Charlie Company in the field. Within half an hour of that, Bravo Company drove past. Having been 2IC Bravo Company for quite some time, we identified each other and made all sorts of comments and remarks to each other as they drove past. And not too many minutes later down the track there was this loud noise, puff of quite black smoke that went into the air. And dust. And of course that was the loss of many of my close friends in Bravo Company.15

John Taske believed that the pilgrimage had lived up to expectations. ‘It was a great trip and well worthwhile.’ The dramatic and massive changes in the urban development and basic infrastructure didn’t faze him. As he said:

We could hardly recognise anything. One pleasant surprise was that where I spent six months in about 100 metres by 400 metres in the first six months of that tour in the Nui Dat rubber plantation, it was still like it was.16

John has remarried since he served in Viet Nam, and thought it was a great idea that his wife Tina accompanied him. ‘This gave her a very good insight into that part of my life, which is important.’ Interestingly, John said he ‘wouldn’t have come back on my own and gone through battlefields. I might have come back to go through the rest of the country . . . But no, I would not have gone to the battlefields.’17

Even though he was instrumental in getting the 5 RAR pilgrimage off the ground, Roger Wainwright expressed the feeling before he came that he wasn’t sure if the pilgrimage was going to be good or bad for him, but this was the best way to find out—regardless. Afterwards he said he was ‘very pleased and glad’ he had done the trip. He reflected on what his group had achieved:

There were a few of the things that I really wanted to see, and I think we’ve done that. And I think the other thing is that down the track we’ve come back to what I see is a very progressive country. Just to see the infrastructure and things like that which are happening—this country’s going to go a long way.18

Coming back with his wife of 36 years, Tina, was important to Roger, ‘because over many years she’s been to reunions, and she comes along and hears all the stories’. Tina was present during the interview and nodded her head vigorously, adding, ‘I have heard them all!’ Roger continued, ‘What Tina has seen now, she’s seen first hand, and I think she’ll understand a little more about the “warries” that we tend to spin at these reunions.’

But Roger got more out of his trip back than just having a more knowledgeable partner; for him the main thing was being with his fellow soldiers. Roger did not wish to sound elitist, but explained why they had an officer-only group:

[It was] the camaraderie, the spirit, the feeling between us. This trip was initiated when we laid up the battalion colours in Wagga in April last year [2004]. And the reason we did that was because we had about 17 officers from the first tour turn up from all over the country just to lay up the colours. And that shows the bond that we’ve got between us. It’s stayed strong to this day, and that’s why.19

Dr Tony White was grinning when asked if he had enjoyed his pilgrimage with his family. ‘I’m thrilled,’ he said. ‘I think it’s been just wonderful.’ One of Tony’s highlights was revisiting his old tent lines:

Particularly for me the 5 RAR battalion site was very evocative. And to be confident of the exact locations within a matter of metres of the battalion headquarters, and my RAP [regimental aid post], and even to sort of having an intelligent guess as to where my tent was. That was a very emotional sort of moment. It’s been superb.20

Returning with his wife and son to where he served on active service was important to Tony. He explained:

I’m very pleased and very proud. Because I think when there’s some big event in somebody’s life who’s dear to you and it’s just a sort of cloudy thing . . . it makes the whole thing a lot more real and clear and less of a mystery. And so I’m very grateful they came.21

Another great moment for Tony was the memorial service in the rubber at Nui Dat. He continued:

And I thought that little service at Tiger Pad was just spot on . . . There we were on that patch of real estate where we’d spent that time, and just doing our duty to those blokes who didn’t make it back. And I think they would be grateful for that. And the whole Battalion Association would be grateful for that. That’s a sort of chunk of my past which it’s nice to be able to visit and commemorate in some way.22

The partners

It is one thing for servicemen who have worked together to get together, but for their partners it can be daunting knowing they are going to spend the next couple of weeks touring with a group they might hardly know. Ted Heffernan’s wife Joy was also a little worried about their reception by the Vietnamese, but those concerns were soon dispelled: ‘I found the Vietnamese people to be very, very friendly,’ she said. ‘And yes, I’ve been very impressed with the country. It is beautiful.’ Coming to Viet Nam from Melbourne was a bit tough for Joy at first.

We left a cold climate and when we came here it was very, very hot. And so I didn’t expect it to be so—[even] having lived in Singapore and Malaysia for three years. Having just spent a week in Singapore a couple of months ago, you’d think I would have expected the humidity. But in fact it was a lot hotter than I expected, and just visiting the areas in the heat was a little bit hard at times.23

Joy may have been finding the heat and humidity hard but it certainly didn’t stop her enjoying herself and the company of the other partners on the trip. Before downing a bottle of champagne one evening by the pool in Vung Tau she confided in me that she ‘didn’t drink’, so she was obviously on a rehydration program that only included French alcoholic beverages. Joy sheepishly admitted:

Well, it was a lot of fun. And it was a great bonding of all the ladies . . . And it was great that we were all sort of fit women together and we were able to cope with the experience. I enjoyed all that. I thought it was a great adventure.24

Tina Wainwright was in on the ground floor of the planning and execution of the 5 RAR pilgrimage because her husband Roger is president of the battalion association and was a chief organiser of the officers’ trip. Tina was ‘very glad’ that she accompanied Roger, because ‘it’s just a fascinating country. It’s a lovely country. And I think it’s terrific to see the development.’ Tina’s highlights were:

the three ceremonies. It’s rather lovely to be able to do it in this country for those men [who died]. The three: Long Tan, the Bourne incident [An Nhut] and Tiger Pad. Probably because of what they meant to Roger.25

When the group visited Nui Dat, it rained right on cue as they were having a picnic lunch. Everyone just stood out in the rain and ate their lunch. That made an impression on Tina, who reflected:

You can visualise or you can have a small comprehension [as] somebody who’s never been in a war. You can at least imagine. But seeing the ground was important. You can [look at] photographs, but the smells, and looking, and all the senses [make it real].26

John Taske’s wife Tina said of her trip, ‘I would not have missed it for the world; coming with no expectations; going home with a feeling of warmth, love, and respect more than anything.’ When asked to elaborate, Tina explained she felt:

respect firstly for the Australian soldiers who fought here; secondly I have a huge respect for the Vietnamese people, which I didn’t have before I came. I had never been to an Asian country before—it was difficult for me because I didn’t know what to expect—but I would not have missed it for the world. I am a seasoned traveller, but not to Asian countries, and it was difficult for me in the first instance, but I can honestly say now that it was fantastic.27

Tina was unable to accompany her husband John on the second half of the pilgrimage, which was really an extended R&R for the touring party, but she said there were several highlights of her trip:

One was with Roger [Wainwright] when he showed me a photograph and he said, ‘These are my men, this photograph was taken about ten minutes before these men were killed.’ I just stopped, I couldn’t think . . . everything just stopped. And then we went to the place where these men were killed and I felt an enormous loss, an enormous loss. I can’t describe it any other way but it was just this huge loss. For life, for family, for everyone there more than anything. Secondly standing at the memorial for the Australian soldiers in the rubber at Long Tan. Walking through the rubber trees; I walked alone for a little while and tried to imagine, I wanted to imagine what it was like with the noise, the guns, bombs and smoke—people with ripped and torn flesh. It crippled my brain and I couldn’t. To me it was very moving and once again I felt an enormous amount of respect for these men. And I think there was another moment too when Paul [Greenhalgh] talked about The Horseshoe area and Fort Wendy and I thought, God this is so fantastic, here was a man who was desperate to get home and all he could think about was the woman he loved at home, but here he was doing what he had to do and he managed to mix the two quite nicely until he didn’t like the outcome for him. I thought it was really, really nice; it was so lovely to watch Wendy come back with Paul and be part of something that was 39 years ago, which is as strong today as it was then.28

When asked how she felt as a woman who had not known her husband when he was in Viet Nam on active service, and as a second wife trying to fit in, Tina was straightforward in her reply:

This was a great group, there was no doubt about it. There was no animosity; there were no great moments of tension as you often find in groups. This was a group of people who just bonded, they just melded together and it was just lovely. I adored the women, the ladies were sensational; the men were just gorgeous. The only thing about the bus was that there was no toilet [laughs]. That’s all.29

And from a woman who brought a new meaning to the words ‘retail therapy’ and who looked like she could take to the catwalk on any given day in the heat and humidity of Viet Nam and still knock the socks off anyone watching, she added:

It was fantastic. I would recommend it to any woman who has doubts, or any partner who has doubts about what their husband/partner did or whatever, I heartily recommend that you bring your partner because it will bring you closer together and I think that is what it has actually done for me—it has made me understand my husband more.30

Wendy Greenhalgh was asked what she took home from the pilgrimage and replied a little warily, watching her husband’s reactions:

I’m only looking at it [as] the wife of Paul, and I’m just so pleased that we’re here and it worked out and everything was happy. And I think he’s got something out of it. I think he’s a bit more forgiving. Maybe. But things have come together and I just believe we’ve had a bit of completion here.31

Wendy found the trip remarkable for many reasons, but was especially moved by the Memorial Cross at Long Tan:

I found it incredibly sad there, that all those Viet Cong are also dead. I felt really depressed about war. I put my anti-war hat on definitely then. It just all seemed so sad that it ever happened. All those dead bodies and the poor mothers and sisters and brothers who will never ever know where their kin is buried.32

Doffy White has been married to her doctor husband Tony since 1968 and has heard the stories—which didn’t get much airing until only a few years ago—and with their son Rupert enjoyed the trip immensely. Doffy thought the highlights were:

being part of a group like this—I think it’s an absolute privilege because you don’t often get to be with a group like that who are talking about what happened to their lives and they’re quite open. I think there was an openness there that I felt. Being part of that group I thought was very special, and I felt very honoured to be included. And I think seeing where Tony served, that was also very special.33

After visiting where her husband had toiled as the unit doctor, Doffy admitted she hadn’t thought of some of the little things that are hardly ever mentioned about being in a war zone.

What I hadn’t appreciated was the privations that they must have had: the rain, the constant heat and humidity, ants crawling up your legs, the tiny little bugs that would be crawling in and out of your clothes, and the fact that you were constantly wet. Someone mentioned that they once went for about 30 days without changing their clothes and as they dried out the next lot of rain would come. When you listen to all the stories back home, [the men] really don’t talk about those sort of things—and from a female’s perspective I found that horrendous, I mean how could you cope? And the other thing I found [was] that the beauty in the rubber was mesmerising. I remember looking down that cathedral of rubber trees and the canopy underneath; I thought it was exquisitely beautiful and yet spooky. I found the combination of those two aspects really extraordinary.34

Doffy thought that the memory she would be taking from Viet Nam would probably sound ‘off to left field a little bit’:

[It was] just driving down those village tracks and looking at all the villages. And this is nearly 40 years later on [since the war]. And if this is what it’s like now, imagining how it would have been—it must have been much more primitive then. Here are these people hammering nails on the sort of side walk, hammering down buildings with sledge hammers and whatever. And I think here is this poor community on a little strip of land and yet they beat the combined might of America and its Allies. And I think . . . as a grandparent now, what can we learn? We should teach our children about surviving in the future. And I think that’s what I’ll take back.35

The children

Rupert White accompanied his parents on the 5 RAR pilgrimage when he was 34 years old. Here are some of his thoughts on the journey:

My expectations were [that it would be] almost like wandering through a museum, that is how I thought it was going to go. ‘This is where this happened, this is where that happened.’ It turned out to be a bit more than that. I got a few good war stories out of the old boys which was great. And John Taske tells a really great story about showering in the camp before the duck boards were down and the red mud and that sort of thing—you hear about the guns and the bullets and the deaths, but you don’t really hear about day to day life in Nui Dat or out on patrol so much. And so just those little stories added a thousand shades of colour to the way I see it now. And also the rain in the rubber, and the insects biting our feet while we were doing the memorial service. And the mud. Whereas before I saw photos, now I’ve got a real feel of what it must have been like.36

Rupert said the trip had given him a better understanding of what his father Tony had experienced, and had fulfilled his expectations ‘and more so’. He admitted he was a little apprehensive at first, but said that feeling quickly dissipated.

I thought I’d better be on my best behaviour, and all these guys here—it was like touring with a rugby squad or something. You know, there were jokes left, right and centre and all that sort of stuff. It was great . . . They’ve obviously got a very good relationship from just that one year in Viet Nam. I’m really glad I came. I was very honoured to get the invitation.37

There was no shortage of war stories on the tour bus or whenever the group stopped at a battle site, museum or other place of interest. Rupert remarked:

Another thing that I’ve got from the whole thing was just . . . actually seeing people describing amongst themselves when people have been killed whom they knew, or Gary [McKay] getting blasted in the arm and you hear of someone being shot and injured. And that’s—okay, that’s a bad thing. But behind each of those stories it actually doesn’t end there. Then it can be two years or five years of rehabilitation. And I think, going forward from there, I have a greater respect or understanding of thousands of casualties in Gallipoli and places like that. There is actually a little person behind each of those statistics.38

So what would Rupert leave Viet Nam with as his greatest impression?

I think again the biggest thing I’ll take back is just the mateship, the banter on the bus. I always think that your generals and all your captains and your majors—my assumption is that they’re going to be hard arses, you know, very tough. But you see Paul out there and he’s naming ‘Fort Wendy’ and that sort of thing. And Roger’s such a lovely quiet guy (for an infantryman). I think that’s a good impression of mateship and that’s the thing I’ll take away with me for sure.39

Tony White was listening as his son spoke, and then offered another observation on how children of war veterans may react on a visit to Viet Nam: ‘I think it depends a lot on whether they’ve had the whole Viet Nam thing rammed down their throat or not.’ When asked to clarify that remark Tony added, ‘I think of some families where the kids and spouses have overdosed on it and for them it would just be piling another toxin on a bad life back home.’40

My own daughter, Kelly, was 21 when she accompanied me to Viet Nam on a research trip in 2002. I would like to share here her reflections on that visit and what she came away with. This was her unedited response:

Whilst I was initially apprehensive at joining a whole group of other veterans (besides my father), this feeling soon proved to be completely unfounded, as I was made exceptionally welcome and soon made some lovely friends. It soon became apparent that while revisiting Viet Nam is a very personal and individual experience for each veteran, having the support network of their spouses and other returning veterans was invaluable in helping them through this sometimes confronting and difficult experience. However, it wasn’t all so emotional, and having people with similar experiences with whom to share memories, stories and lots of laughs made for a very fun and exciting atmosphere. The drinks and the anecdotes flowed freely and by the end of our tour firm friendships were forged.

As the daughter of a Viet Nam veteran and career Army officer of 30 years, my youth was filled with hundreds of Viet Nam and military anecdotes. ‘Army’ was so ingrained in my father that it seemed to infiltrate all aspects of his personality and our lives. There is at least one Viet Nam story that can be related to nearly every possible everyday situation (the ones about chillies and giant spiders among my personal favourites), and so, like many other ‘Army brats’, Viet Nam is something I thought I understood. My father’s experience with war was part of our everyday lives and was something I took very much for granted.

All this changed on going to Viet Nam with my father. I learned very quickly that the anecdotes of my childhood were just that—stories. Minute snapshots of the ‘PG’ version of war; the lighter moments in a war that was anything but. What I thought I knew about the Viet Nam War didn’t even come close to scratching the surface of what the Viet Nam experience really was all about for my father and his fellow veterans.

Whilst every day of my trip was a new and exciting discovery, there were three particularly standout moments that really defined for me what it must have been like for my father in Viet Nam. The first was a visit to the War Remnants Museum. Even someone not connected to a veteran could not help but be moved by the highly emotive and confronting images on display here. My father warned me before entering that some of the photographs would be graphic, but nothing could have prepared me for the shock of what I saw. I realised straight away that the ‘War Remnants Museum’ could not have been more aptly named. Wounded men crying in agony, surgeons up to their elbows in gore, and the foetuses of babies deformed in utero as a result of their mothers’ exposure to Agent Orange are memories that will stay with me always as a constant reminder of the futility of war.

The second event that helped deepen my understanding was visiting the site of the Memorial Cross for the Battle of Long Tan. It was a very hot and humid day as we all sat among the rubber trees listening to my father deliver a blow-by-blow account of the battle. The experience was incredibly chilling. The bravery and the strength of the Australian soldiers against such incredible odds was mind-blowing, and the sense of overwhelming pride and respect I felt for these men and all other veterans is one I will carry with me always.

The third moment came much more unexpectedly, but really made me confront the full gravity of what my father felt, and continues to live with today. Whilst walking through the ‘jungle’ to the site of the Cu Chi tunnels, one of the veterans suddenly froze. He looked very shaken, and I asked my father what was wrong. He explained that the uniform worn by the staff at Cu Chi was very similar to the black pyjama-style uniforms worn by the Viet Cong during the war. Our friend, on his first return trip to Viet Nam, had just caught a glimpse of one of the staff through the jungle. For him it was like being in a time warp. The humidity, the jungle and then sighting ‘the enemy’ through the trees transported him back, and the adrenaline and fear were, once again, very real.

As we walked on, the reality of how it must have felt came crashing down on me. A cold shiver ran down my spine as I tried to comprehend how it must have felt really to be there. To kill or be killed. The feeling was positively overwhelming and to finally understand that this was a reality that my father actually lived through was as terrifying as it was humbling.

I have always considered myself a ‘Daddy’s girl’ and have always loved, respected and admired my father. But after going to Viet Nam with him, I felt I finally understood him a little better. I will never again take for granted or dismiss what he went through. His anecdotes are not ‘just another Viet Nam story’; they were real, and only a tiny part of the montage of his experience. The sadness and pain I feel for my father because of what he went through is overshadowed only by the immense feeling of pride and respect I feel for the man it made him become.

Viet Nam for me was an incredible experience. The sensory overload was intoxicating. The country was as beautiful as it was scarred. Everywhere you look it seems you are confronted by a visual oxymoron. Lotus blossoms and duck ponds in bomb craters; battle wounds on smiling faces; and happiness in the midst of poverty. Girls dressed in beautiful spotless, white silk ao dais riding clapped-out bikes on pot-holed dusty roads. It is a country of contradiction, and a place I will never forget.41