Brandon 2
KitaGuilt and Me (Chapter 2 – Welcome to Nam… Mate)
September 2nd 2007 23:49
It wasn’t what I expected, Vietnam, it was, different, it was, something else. I knew it was going to be jungle, I knew it was going to be humid and I knew it was going to be as far away from home as I’d ever likely get, yet it was completely unexpected, seeing it all.
There was a sense of surrealism surrounding it, was I here? Was it all real? Was this just some kind of nightmare? I would have believed it then and there, that it was all in my head, that I was going to wake up at home look out my window at the beautiful scene, lit by the beautiful Australian sun.
Brendan was at awe at the jungle scene looking out from the helicopter that flew us in from HMAS Sydney into Vietnam. I pretended to be somewhat excited, even though I knew that I was going to hate this place. It wasn’t like the bright scene outside my bedroom window, it was just a dark foreboding jungle lit by a strong yet dull sun, the kind that burns your skin but doesn’t light anything, I couldn’t have been further away from home if I was on the moon.
Our home for the rest of our tour was on a hilltop, the hill had a name, ‘Hill 53’. At least we had a hard tin roof over our heads, I didn’t have bedroom window, much less a bedroom. I bunked with Brendan, not a bad thing, at least for the first three days it helped me sleep better knowing he was just at most half a meter away.
After the first three days someone higher up than us decided we should do a weeks patrol in the jungle, to help condition us for later. We were to eat, drink, walk and sleep in the jungle for a week patrolling for a non-existent enemy. Off we went, down from the hill, onto an Armoured Personnel carrier that was to take us deeper into the jungle.
The Armoured Personnel carrier wasn’t particularly armoured, in fact a well placed grenade could have rendered the tin can unusable. Still, it was fun riding on top of it, yelling at each other trying to make conversation. ‘So you reckon were going to kill any of them Vietcong?’ shouted Brendan, he would rephrase the same question over the course of the journey every few minutes. Michael didn’t seem too excited about the prospects of killing another man, much like me he hinted at hoping to not meet another living soul for the entire three days.
Our commanding officer was a gruff man, he had been in Vietnam for at least a year. Besides his year leap head he had on most of us he didn’t possess any qualifications. I couldn’t help but think they looked at his age and decided because he was older than most of us that he should be higher ranking, so they gave him a map and a compass and told him to lead. Then again, they gave me boots and a gun and told me to be a soldier, so it wasn’t too much of a stretch to think they would just throw darts at names to decide how things work in the ranks.
The commanding officer was loud and boisterous, he had at least one friend, Callum, and they talked about some of the most inane of subjects, ‘so Ben, when I was out on R&R at Saigon six months ago… remember how I told you about that lass’,
‘Yeah’
‘Well I saw her the other day, honest to god’
‘How? We were on the hilltop’
‘Yeah I know, I swear it was something else, she came by on a scooter, some old geezer driving it, and she hops off and goes into ‘ol Billy’s hut!’
‘Oooh, bet he was hot for some of it’
‘Yeah… I wouldn’t know…’
‘Hey, I told you, never had a chance with her, she just fucked you because you paid her’
‘Yeah I know, just thought… you know, thought we had something going on’
‘Haha, whatever mate’
So on it went, until we arrived at our destination, the place we were to disembark and proceed on foot. Carrying the massive weight of our bags, fighting against the sun, humidity and above all, the jungle, we went forth. There was silence for the four hour march, as we ploughed our way through the thick jungle, lugging our heavy bags, carrying our guns as if ready for combat.
I still couldn’t believe I was there, there was a sense of surrealism to it all, was I really in Vietnam? Most certainly, if it wasn’t the humidity or the Jungle slowly growing on you or the sweat rinsing your skin it was the bugs that made you realize where you were. I had come to realize that I wasn’t going to fully accept the fact immediately, too much of me rejected this reality that was forced upon me.
At the end of the march we dug our fox holes and didn’t do much after that. Actually Michael had brought along a chess set, Jarrah, although being a quiet type of person couldn’t hide his interest in the game and Michael eventually started teaching him how to play. Jarrah wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but Michael had the patience to put up with Jarrahs slow learning.
I watched as Michael showed Jarrah, repeatedly, how to position the pieces on the board. ‘This goes here, the pawns line up at the front’ said Michael, then looking up at Jarrah as he struggled to take it all in, ‘This, here?’ he asked, pointing at a piece then a square on the board. It took him a while to learn, in fact by the time Jarrah figured out where all the pieces go the sun had set. Brendan and I started talking about what was happening around us, he was going on and on about how we were Anzacs and how we were going to be treated as heroes once we got back.
It was dark, I could barely see him, but his massive motion to and fro was a clear indication that he really was enthusiastic about everything, he couldn’t sit still talking about the Anzacs and those stories my grandfather used to tell us when we were kids. I guess he didn’t really ever grow up, he was still enthusiastic about it all like he were eight years old.
He could tell that the subject was wearing thin, and the night was really setting in, he wanted to end on a high note, as he always does, ‘You didn’t bring any writing material, did you Ryan?’ he asked
‘Yeah, why?’ I replied sheepishly
‘Well… how are you going to write letters back home?’
‘When I’m at camp, then I’ll write’
‘Oh come on, that’s not you, if I know you, you want to write everything, everyday, and send it off as soon as you can’
‘Yeah I suppose so…’
‘I’ve been looking out for you mate’ he said as he produced a notebook and pencil from his back pack. ‘You better be grateful’ he said, ‘I lugged that damned thing around all day just for you’.
‘Thanks’ I said, taking the notebook and pencil off his hands
‘Tell Jill I’m thinking about her!’ he said jokingly, and with that he made his bed, on a tree trunk, and closed his eyes. That was his way of saying goodnight, giving me news he thought I would like to hear and hinting at something he knew I loved.
He gave me the equipment to make me feel better and the directions on how to use them. He could have just as well told me to write a letter to my girlfriend, but that wasn’t him. Despite his poor grades Brendan was a deep thinker and knew how to use his thoughts for good, and only that. Be it creating a masterpiece out of wood or making his best friend feel better, even when he failed at least he tried his hardest.
There was a sense of surrealism surrounding it, was I here? Was it all real? Was this just some kind of nightmare? I would have believed it then and there, that it was all in my head, that I was going to wake up at home look out my window at the beautiful scene, lit by the beautiful Australian sun.
Brendan was at awe at the jungle scene looking out from the helicopter that flew us in from HMAS Sydney into Vietnam. I pretended to be somewhat excited, even though I knew that I was going to hate this place. It wasn’t like the bright scene outside my bedroom window, it was just a dark foreboding jungle lit by a strong yet dull sun, the kind that burns your skin but doesn’t light anything, I couldn’t have been further away from home if I was on the moon.
Our home for the rest of our tour was on a hilltop, the hill had a name, ‘Hill 53’. At least we had a hard tin roof over our heads, I didn’t have bedroom window, much less a bedroom. I bunked with Brendan, not a bad thing, at least for the first three days it helped me sleep better knowing he was just at most half a meter away.
After the first three days someone higher up than us decided we should do a weeks patrol in the jungle, to help condition us for later. We were to eat, drink, walk and sleep in the jungle for a week patrolling for a non-existent enemy. Off we went, down from the hill, onto an Armoured Personnel carrier that was to take us deeper into the jungle.
The Armoured Personnel carrier wasn’t particularly armoured, in fact a well placed grenade could have rendered the tin can unusable. Still, it was fun riding on top of it, yelling at each other trying to make conversation. ‘So you reckon were going to kill any of them Vietcong?’ shouted Brendan, he would rephrase the same question over the course of the journey every few minutes. Michael didn’t seem too excited about the prospects of killing another man, much like me he hinted at hoping to not meet another living soul for the entire three days.
Our commanding officer was a gruff man, he had been in Vietnam for at least a year. Besides his year leap head he had on most of us he didn’t possess any qualifications. I couldn’t help but think they looked at his age and decided because he was older than most of us that he should be higher ranking, so they gave him a map and a compass and told him to lead. Then again, they gave me boots and a gun and told me to be a soldier, so it wasn’t too much of a stretch to think they would just throw darts at names to decide how things work in the ranks.
The commanding officer was loud and boisterous, he had at least one friend, Callum, and they talked about some of the most inane of subjects, ‘so Ben, when I was out on R&R at Saigon six months ago… remember how I told you about that lass’,
‘Yeah’
‘Well I saw her the other day, honest to god’
‘How? We were on the hilltop’
‘Yeah I know, I swear it was something else, she came by on a scooter, some old geezer driving it, and she hops off and goes into ‘ol Billy’s hut!’
‘Oooh, bet he was hot for some of it’
‘Yeah… I wouldn’t know…’
‘Hey, I told you, never had a chance with her, she just fucked you because you paid her’
‘Yeah I know, just thought… you know, thought we had something going on’
‘Haha, whatever mate’
So on it went, until we arrived at our destination, the place we were to disembark and proceed on foot. Carrying the massive weight of our bags, fighting against the sun, humidity and above all, the jungle, we went forth. There was silence for the four hour march, as we ploughed our way through the thick jungle, lugging our heavy bags, carrying our guns as if ready for combat.
I still couldn’t believe I was there, there was a sense of surrealism to it all, was I really in Vietnam? Most certainly, if it wasn’t the humidity or the Jungle slowly growing on you or the sweat rinsing your skin it was the bugs that made you realize where you were. I had come to realize that I wasn’t going to fully accept the fact immediately, too much of me rejected this reality that was forced upon me.
At the end of the march we dug our fox holes and didn’t do much after that. Actually Michael had brought along a chess set, Jarrah, although being a quiet type of person couldn’t hide his interest in the game and Michael eventually started teaching him how to play. Jarrah wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but Michael had the patience to put up with Jarrahs slow learning.
I watched as Michael showed Jarrah, repeatedly, how to position the pieces on the board. ‘This goes here, the pawns line up at the front’ said Michael, then looking up at Jarrah as he struggled to take it all in, ‘This, here?’ he asked, pointing at a piece then a square on the board. It took him a while to learn, in fact by the time Jarrah figured out where all the pieces go the sun had set. Brendan and I started talking about what was happening around us, he was going on and on about how we were Anzacs and how we were going to be treated as heroes once we got back.
It was dark, I could barely see him, but his massive motion to and fro was a clear indication that he really was enthusiastic about everything, he couldn’t sit still talking about the Anzacs and those stories my grandfather used to tell us when we were kids. I guess he didn’t really ever grow up, he was still enthusiastic about it all like he were eight years old.
He could tell that the subject was wearing thin, and the night was really setting in, he wanted to end on a high note, as he always does, ‘You didn’t bring any writing material, did you Ryan?’ he asked
‘Yeah, why?’ I replied sheepishly
‘Well… how are you going to write letters back home?’
‘When I’m at camp, then I’ll write’
‘Oh come on, that’s not you, if I know you, you want to write everything, everyday, and send it off as soon as you can’
‘Yeah I suppose so…’
‘I’ve been looking out for you mate’ he said as he produced a notebook and pencil from his back pack. ‘You better be grateful’ he said, ‘I lugged that damned thing around all day just for you’.
‘Thanks’ I said, taking the notebook and pencil off his hands
‘Tell Jill I’m thinking about her!’ he said jokingly, and with that he made his bed, on a tree trunk, and closed his eyes. That was his way of saying goodnight, giving me news he thought I would like to hear and hinting at something he knew I loved.
He gave me the equipment to make me feel better and the directions on how to use them. He could have just as well told me to write a letter to my girlfriend, but that wasn’t him. Despite his poor grades Brendan was a deep thinker and knew how to use his thoughts for good, and only that. Be it creating a masterpiece out of wood or making his best friend feel better, even when he failed at least he tried his hardest.
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