Viet Nam verse

A tribute to Ross H and the Men of Victor 1 Company RNZIR, Vietnam

Where's me fuckin' rifle?
Where's me fuckin' pack?
Where's me fuckin' webbing?
and - where's the fuckin' track?

I'm sick of fuckin' walkin'!
I'm sick of fuckin' rain!
I'm sick of fuckin' jungle bashin'!
and - I'm doin' it a-fuckin'-gain!

It's full of fuckin' noises!
It's full of fuckin' birds!
It's full of fuckin' snakes and shit!
and - it's full of fuckin' lurgs!

I hate the fuckin' Army!
I hate the fuckin' Camp!
I hate the fuckin' RSM!
and - I hate this fuckin' tramp!

Another fuckin' contact!
Another fuckin' war!
Another fuckin' body count!
and - another fuckin' score!

So - where's me fuckin' rifle?
me fuckin' webbing too!
I've found me fuckin' discharge docs!
and - I'M FUCKIN' SHOOTIN' THROUGH!

Mike Subritzky 1972
28th ANZUK Brigade, Singapore

The Aussie equivalent of the poem to the left.

I've had me share of rubber trees
and screamin' sergeant majors
And livin' like a mongrel dog
in those stuffed out canvas cages
Had me share of screamin' jets
and whoopin' bloody rockets,
beetles in me under dacks
bull ants in me pockets,
Had me share of mud'n slush
and rainin' like a bastard
And when it rains, it rains here mate
a fortnight once it lasted

Had this bloody place Vietnam
and a war that ain't fair dinkum
Had the swamps and chook house towns
where everythin' is stinkin'
Had me share of countin' days
and boots with ten foot laces
I've had me share, I've had it mate
and up all them foreign places.

Anonymous

A SOLDIERS FAREWELL

I've saddled up, and dropped me hooch,
I'm going to take the gap,
my Tour of Duty's over mates,
and I won't be coming back.

I'm done with diggin' shell scrapes
and laying out barbed wire,
I'm sick of setting Claymore Mines,
and coming under fire.

So, no more Fire Support Base,
and no more foot patrols,
and no more eating ration packs,
and sleepin' in muddy holes.

I've fired my last machine gun,
and ambushed my last track,
I'm sick of all the Army brass,
and I sure ain't coming back.

I'll hand my bayonet to the clerk,
he ain't seen one before,
and clean my rifle one more time,
and return it to the store.

So, no more spit and polish,
and make sure I get paid,
and sign me from the Regiment,
today's my last parade.

Mike Subritzky

A SALUTE TO THE MEN OF LONG TAN Kiss your wives and farewell your friends it’s time my lads to stand with the men, bloodied red bayonets and mouths painful dry bandage your brothers, and try not to cry. The Vietcong are coming all black down the road so take up your rifles and aim well and load, forget all your dreams and remember your past I fear that this battle may well be your last. Stay firm in the trenches, shoot slightly low ignore dying friends as the cannon mouths glow, the enemy are evil and slavery their name so fix tight your bayonets and mark well the aim. So kiss all your wives and hug tight your child for today is the day when death will run wild, the tracer bright ribbons will cut them down clean in the eddies of battle by dirty brown streams. So hold tight your brothers and farewell your babes today is the day you’ll be in your graves, falling and calling in cordite’s white cloud the jungle forever your lonely brave shroud. So remember my friends those D Company men who laid down their lives in Long Tan’s green glens, salute all your sons and the seventeen lost who paid for our freedom, the ultimate cost. ©Lt. John A. Moller Whiskey Two Company RNZIR
JOCKO'S LEECH Poor old Jocko he did not look too well, pale-faced and sweating he had a funny smell; his lower belly swollen and his cheeks quite white, poor old Jocko he looked a sorry sight. His soldier's stride did falter, he dropped his heavy gun and fell full stretch in padi field upon his muddy bum; fearful whispered to us the dreadful, awful fact, some unkind leech had lodged itself and dammed his urine tract. And all the soldiers' horror was reflected in the sound as they sucked their teeth in sympathy at Jocko on the ground; the sharp intake of nervous breath as they held him down, trying all the tricks they knew to get at leech's nest. But all their tricks they tried in vain and mindful of the dreadful strain they called a dust-off quick and neat to whisk him to the surgeon's sheet; where the dreaded pest removed freed his natural drain, and poor old Jocko joked and smiled again. © John A. Moller Whiskey Two Company RNZIR
CONTACT FRONT Contact, contact front, drop your packs, run like hell from the twisting track, hearts all thumping jellied knees, watch that bloke behind those trees, chuck us a belt of ammo mate, don't stuff around it'll be too late, run and roll dive and crawl, watering eyes in cordite's pall, fluttering bowels God I'm scared, at least it's a feeling mutually shared, take a deep breath shoot low and fast, this is no bloody game it could mean death, it's just reaction shaking like that, watch for movement and men in black, careful aim steady those hands, don't want to bleed on their bloody land, grenades' flat crack it's all done, so grab your packs and hot barrelled guns, a good job boys that flanking attack, we killed them all those buggers in black. © John A. Moller Whiskey Two Company RNZIR
"Poems Of Remembrance" VIETNAM It's so easy to forget and say I don't give a damn Let's not remember "That War" called Vietnam But those who remember are those who were there They fought and died in the hope that we'd care They fought for their country; they fought for their pride It's a pity more people don't know why they died For the one's who returned it's just never the same For the scars war inflicts will always remain All wars spell destruction, heartache and tears Vietnam the "Modern" war confirmed all our fears Let's remember the Anzacs, but lets remember them all Just remember where we'd be if they hadn't answered the call Rest in Peace Peter
MUM This is for the nurses of Vietnam always a smile to encourage never sour or glum I don't know what her name was we just called her mum somewhere between thirty and forty how ancient that seemed then for we were all of twenty just boys dressed up as men she was a nursing corps sister caring for wounded young boys but her light jokes in the morning made her one of our joys how could she get a bloke laughing when he knew of the pain yet to come I don't know, but that was the magic of the angel we called mum where is she now I wonder still caring perhaps for all ranks I hope someday she'll read this an' know that her boys said "THANKS"
THE OP ENGINEER (Tunnel Rat) (an underground man) The leading scout raised his arm in the village of Long Phuoc He'd found another tunnel, but who'd go down to look? The corporal passed the word back, it went back far behind To let his platoon commander know of his recent find Then along came this soldier, with mud from head to toe "Where's the tunnel entrance?" was all he wanted to know When they showed the soldier, he quickly looked around And before you could stop him, he'd gone underground Now he'd been searching on his gut, all that day I bet Look out for booby traps that good ol' Charlie sets Then he found the wire stretched out taut and thin But he deloused that booby trap, with a safety pin Then he found the weapons leaning on the wall There was no disputing he'd found a real big haul When he finally surfaced, wearing a big grin He proudly showed the Diggers what he'd found within Now he'd like to sit down, and roll himself a smoke But he's been called up forward, by another bloke So when you see that hat badge, that's like a bursting shell Remember that this fellow has crawled half way through to hell And if he's in a bar mate, you buy that bloke a beer Because Sir, you're drinking with an Aussie Engineer
THE LONELY FORWARD SCOUT Each man has his duty Yes, each man has his job And each one takes the chance That he will stand before his God But ask of any soldier What he thinks of the scout The one that leads the others The lonely forward scout. He's the first one into danger The first to face the shots He sees and hears what other miss And reads right on the spot For none may walk beside him While he's up front, the scout He's known as both the eyes and ears The lonely forward scout But man is man and life goes round And returns to form a ring The whispering of the leaves may mean That death is on the wing The rifles boom, the rockets crash Many lives hand deep in doubt His chest now but a crimson cloak The lonely forward scout And now there lies in our sunburnt land Deep down beneath the earth A boy who died a soldiers death For all this it was worth We were hit from every side it seemed Just able to get out But there up front, alone, he died The lonely forward scout written by: S.A Evans WIA 19 July 1969 Eulogy for Ray Kermode Killed in Action Long Kahn Province, 19th July 1969
Mum and Dad and Denny saw the passing out parade at Puckapunyal for audio It was a long march from cadets Sixth Battalion was the next to tour and it was me who drew the card We did Canungra and Shoalwater before we left And Townsville lined the footpaths as we marched down to the quay This clipping from the paper shows us young and strong and clean And there's me in me slouch hat with me SLR and greens God help me, I was only nineteen From Vung Tau riding Chinooks to the dust at Nui Dat I'd been in and out of choppers now for months And we made our tents a home, VB and pinups on the lockers And an agent orange sunset through the scrub And can you tell me doctor why I still can't get to sleep? And night time's just a jungle dark and a barking M16? And what's this rash that comes and goes, can you tell me what it means? God help me, I was only nineteen A four week operation when each step could mean your last one on two legs It was a war within yourself But you wouldn't let your mates down 'til they had you lifted off So you closed your eyes and thought about something else And then someone yelled out "Contact!" and the bloke behind me swore We hooked in there for hours then a God almighty roar Frankie kicked a mine the day that mankind kicked the moon God help me, he was going home in June I can still see Frankie drinking tinnies in the Grand Hotel On a thirty-six hour rec leave in Vung Tau And I can still see Frankie lying screaming in the jungle 'Till the morphine came and killed the bloody row And the Anzac legends didn't mention mud and blood and tears And the stories that my father told me never seemed quite real I caught some pieces in my back that I didn't even feel God help me, I was only nineteen And can you tell me doctor why I still can't get to sleep? And why the Channel Seven chopper chills me to my feet? And what's this rash that comes and goes, Can you tell me what it means? God help me, I was only nineteen
A SOLDIER Copyright George L.Skypeck, 1978 I Was That Which Others Did Not Want To Be. I Went Where Others Feared To Go, And Did What Others Failed To Do. I Asked Nothing From Those Who Gave Nothing, And Reluctantly Accepted The Thought Of Eternal Loneliness ...Should I Fail. I Have Seen The Face Of Terror; Felt The Stinging Cold Of Fear; And Enjoyed The Sweet Taste Of A Moments Love. I Have Cried, Pained, And Hoped ... But Most Of All, I Have Lived Times Others Would Say Were Best Forgotten. At Least Someday I Will Be Able To Say That I Was Proud Of What I Was ... a soldier George L. Skypeck
"Things You Didn't Do" Remember the day I borrowed your brand new car and dented it? I thought you'd kill me, but you didn't. And remember the time I dragged you to the beach, and you said it would rain, and it did? I thought you'd say, "I told you so." But you didn't. Do you remember the time I flirted with all the guys to make you jealous, and you were? I thought you'd leave, but you didn't. Do you remember the time I spilled strawberry pie all over your car rug? I thought you would hit me, but you didn't. And remember the time I forgot to tell you the dance was formal and you showed up in jeans? I thought you'd drop me, but you didn't. Yes, there were lots of things you didn't do, but you put up with me, and you loved me, and you protected me. There were lots of things I wanted to make up to you when you returned from Viet Nam. But you didn't.......... unknown

The Soldier

The young man lies

Alone in the mud

Dirty and tired

And covered in blood

Bullets and tracer

Fly past his head

At any moment

He could be dead

This thought of demise

He thinks not of it

And does his duty

With courage and grit

In this unnamed place

Just a spot on a map

A grenade explodes

Like a thunderclap

He lays there in shock

In fear, and in pain

With pieces of shrapnel

Lodged in his brain

Time passes by

The dust-off arrives

They put him aboard

And tell him he’ll live

A few months later

He returns to his home

Surrounded by friends

But feels all alone

There’s no parade

And no ticker tape

Instead he is treated

With suspicion and hate

They call him a killer

And a hired thug

The nation he fought for

Sweeps him under the rug

He can’t understand

What it is that they fear

He drowns in the comfort

Of whiskey and beer

He fought for these people

Who sweep him aside

He answered the call

With devotion and pride

Thirty years on

Recognition he gets

Thanks due a soldier

A Vietnam Vet

Cameron Patrick