Witi Ihimaera - Uncle's Story

And the fourth promise? The Army guaranteed that you would be returned home. Whether in one piece or many pieces, alive or dead, that could not be guaranteed. That was up to you. All the American conscript wanted to do was to serve time and, God willing, not return home in a sealed casket draped with the American flag.

Nobody wanted to be the last mother’s son killed in Vietnam.

‘I’m sweating like a fucken pig,’ Turei moaned.

At Lieutenant Haapu’s order, Sam had mustered the company to meet Major Worsnop, their Commanding Officer, and his Second in Command, Captain Fellowes.

‘Company, ’shun!’

Major Worsnop inspected the ranks. Captain Fellowes followed a few steps behind him — and paused in front of Sam.

‘You’re Arapeta Mahana’s son, aren’t you?’

‘No matter how I try,’ Sam thought, ‘I will never be able to escape my father.’

‘I was present at your farewell on Poho O Rawiri marae,’ Captain Fellowes said, ‘Your father certainly put us in our place. I’m sure you’ll prove to be as good a soldier as he was. Like father, like son.’

‘At ease, men,’ Major Worsnop said. ‘Very soon you’ll be moved to our New Zealand and Australian Task Force base at Nui Dat. When we and the Aussies entered the war, the US Commander in Vietnam, General Westmoreland, assigned Phuoc Tuy province as the primary area for our operations against the Vietcong. Vung Tau is the supply base and Nui Dat is the fire base. The command capacity includes three Australian infantry battalions, the Royal Australian Air Force’s 9 Squadron — Iroquois helicopters, Caribou and Hercules transport squadrons — and a Canberra bomber squadron. The American backup comprises heavy self-propelled artillery batteries, helicopter units and ground attack aircraft — everything from F-4 Phantom jets and AC47 gunships to OV1 Bird Dog observer aircraft.’ Major Worsnop paused, a twinkle in his eye. ‘And then there’s us.’

A murmur of amusement swept through the room.

‘The New Zealand involvement in this war may be small by comparison with our Allies but we play an important part in the overall effort. As you soldiers all know, it’s not size that counts but what you do with it.’

The whole company erupted into whistles and cheers. Major Worsnop didn’t look the kind of bloke to crack such a funny. He waited for the commotion to die down.

‘Men, you are all now part of the ANZAC Battalion. You represent our government’s wish to assist the government of South Vietnam against Communist aggression. That is your job. My job, however, is more personal. I want to impress upon you that your command group is here to make sure that we do our job together. None of us is alone. We are all a team. If one of us falls, the rest carry him out. Let’s all try to get through this war together. If you can, try to get on with the Australian personnel at Nui Dat.

‘Welcome to Vietnam.’

‘Okay, boys, saddle up and move out.’

Victor Company boarded a convoy of six trucks, escorted by Australian Army armoured personnel carriers, travelling to Nui Dat. Lieutenant Haapu assigned the last truck to Sam and his men.

‘Once you’re aboard, Sergeant,’ he ordered, ‘get your men to load and cock weapons.’

‘Already?’ George gestured at his rifle.

‘Yes,’ Sam said, ‘and watch where you point that thing. I don’t want to start this war with your barrel up my bum.’

The convoy rumbled through the gates and defensive perimeters of the airbase. Away from the port, Vung Tau had a surprising strength and beauty — an arrogance, almost. The French had founded the town as a Customs post, but by the 1890s it had become a prosperous little seaside resort. Bureaucrats and businessmen from Saigon, only 12-kilometres west, recreated the ambience of the French Riviera there; the sprawling villas, palm trees, beaches and bars almost persuaded you that the French still held sway.

George gave a low wolf whistle. ‘Sarge, get a look at that.’

A young woman had come out of an office building. She wore the ao dai, a sheath dress over white trousers. Her face was glazed to perfection. If she smiled, it would split and crack.

‘I thought you went for bigger women,’ Sam said.

‘Right now any woman would do.’

‘That’s not what you felt about my sister when you had your chance with her,’ Turei said.

Turei’s sister, Emma, was big.

‘Well,’ George pursed his lips, ‘actually —’

‘You bastard,’ Turei answered with mock anger. ‘I thought that kid of hers looked like you.’

The convoy moved through the more crowded and poverty stricken outskirts of the town. Here the locals seemed to know you were coming and, without even looking behind, stepped neatly to one side as you passed. In this country, the road rules were simple. If you were the big guy you had right of way. Everybody else — motor scooter, rickshaw, pedestrian — gave way. All, that is, except the kids who ran after the trucks.

‘Watch that none of them throw you an apple,’ Sam said. ‘If they do, throw it back. It might look like an apple, might be red and round like an apple, but some of their apples have a habit of going boom.’

The convoy sped into open country, and the temperature soared to 30°C. Soon they left the sealed roads behind, and the red laterite dust swirled in. Sam moved down the truck to see Turei.

‘I’ll be okay,’ Turei said. ‘If I don’t die of the heat I’ll be sure to die of asthma.’

‘Count yourselves lucky it’s not the monsoon season,’ Sam said.

‘So my third option is to drown? Oh, great.’

Sam moved back to his seat. He had expected dense jungle terrain — not this. For as far as the eye could see was open landscape which looked as if it had been cracked open by an unforgiving sun. But no ordinary sun had scarred and defoliated this land. It had been ravaged by bombings, chemicals and military firepower.

Half an hour later, the open country gave way to secondary jungle terrain, interspersed with rubber and bamboo. The convoy climbed to 200 metres above sea level. A swampy area of mangroves was coming up. Ahead was a bridge.

Sam’s sixth sense was alerted. The roading conditions were slowing the trucks down. The fourth and fifth vehicles in the convoy had lagged, leaving a dangerous gap in the convoy. The cover closed like the fingers of a fist.

‘Pick it up,’ Sam swore. ‘Pick it up .’

He watched as the lead armoured vehicle crossed the bridge. The first truck, under Captain Fellowes’ command, lumbered over. The second truck approached and negotiated its way across.

The bridge exploded. Isolated from the convoy, the three lead vehicles came under machine-gun fire from a nearby hill.

‘Everybody out,’ Sam ordered. ‘Right side, right side.’ He indicated the side of the truck away from the line of fire. He held his rifle high and dived out, hit the ground and rolled.

Tracer bullets ripped into the canvas canopy of the truck. Ahead he heard a boom. Saw an orange ball of fire as Captain Fellowes’ truck was hit — but the men had managed to get out first.

There was no cover on the road. Sam kept rolling over the side and into a field of elephant grass. Next minute he felt somebody colliding with him. Turei.

‘Can’t you find your own cover?’ Sam asked.

Another body barrelled into him.

‘Is there room for one more?’ George asked.

Raising his head, Sam saw Lieutenant Haapu signalling to him.

‘Take out that enemy position.’

Sam acknowledged the order. Made the signal to George and Turei to move on his command. Counted one, two, three. Lifted himself off the ground and sprinted through the elephant grass, his body propelled by pure adrenalin. He waited in the lee of the road for George and Turei. They joined him, and all three went up and over, rifles at their shoulders, diving for cover on the other side of the road.