EVENTSJOIN TODAY

Going to the Vietnam War: What Else Does a Kid from Katunga Do?

Hi, I’m Bill. When I started at Katunga State School, the Head Teacher was ‘Mr. Menzies’. I thought he was also the Prime Minister of Australia that I had heard about on the radio. He must’ve gone to a lot of meetings at night, like my dad.

By 1960 when I started at Numurkah High School, my perception of the world was: not ‘wide’ but at least ‘wider’. My understanding of it remained shallow. The 1960’s decade was, for perhaps ‘most’, the age of dissent, awareness, public protest, and individual freedom. If that age reached Katunga or Numurkah — it must have been after I left to join the Army in December 1965. We were the children of ‘returned’ men. We were raised on the virtues of conforming–to ‘mainstream values’ I suppose. But really, there was only one stream. It was a stream of insecurity (the Cold War), McCarthyism (ask me about McCarthyism at Katunga State School), misplaced ‘patriotism’ and xenophobia. Hatred of Communism was compulsory, and the Domino Theory was an article of faith.

The Cuban Missile Crisis attracted more attention than the Melbourne Cup, but still, there was no debate — it was still ‘us or them’. These matters were fenced off, by both the parents and the Department, by the teachers at Numurkah High School. ‘Debate’ at High School came only with a capital ‘D’. It comprised a formal, polite and ‘adjudicated’ contest of arguments between senior students in the Assembly Hall on subjects of the utmost triviality.

By the time the ‘real’ Prime Minister Menzies committed Australian soldiers to combat (C/F advisory) roles in Vietnam, we were in about Form 4 (Year 10), aged about 15 and almost ‘combat ready’. When my father sold the orchard, I was 17 years old, and I enlisted in the Army (I was not conscripted). They couldn’t send me to Vietnam until I was 19 years old, so I spent a couple of years in Recruit Training (at Wagga), Infantry Training (Sydney) and in various Infantry Units in Qld, WA and NSW. I did specialised training in reconnaissance, medical aid, radio communications and parachuting. The parachuting was fun if a bit scary.

I went to Vietnam with the First Battalion in 1968. For the first couple of months, we engaged the Viet Cong in guerilla warfare–initially in the Long Hai Mountains (referred to by us as the ‘Wolverton Mountains’). In May we were sent out of our usual Province to establish a temporary base of operations called Fire Support Base Coral. There began the most terrifying experience of my life — the ‘Battle of Coral’. Books have been written about the Battle of Coral — I record only a few personal observations.

Intelligence Reports (my father had warned me about ‘Intelligence Reports’) were that defeated North Vietnamese soldiers were withdrawing from the Tet (New Year) offensive on Saigon, in complete disarray. We were to cordon them off. The Intelligence Reports did not mention that a Regiment of North Vietnamese soldiers was moving toward Saigon to form the 3rd wave of the Tet Offensive, and we were directly in their path. Less than twelve hours after we landed on the ground in the middle of the night, they attacked.

This was not guerilla warfare — this was Ho Chi Minh’s ‘Mobile Warfare’ on a large scale. However, the scene – to an independent observer, would have been reminiscent of a scene from WW1: A few hundred Australian soldiers, crouched or lying in partly built trenches, are defending their position (and lives) against waves of enemy foot soldiers (a thousand or so) who have partially overrun the position. Additionally: the earth and sky are afire with the modern embellishments of rockets, helicopter ‘gunships’, and warplanes dive-bombing the enemy — perilously close to the Australians.

Vietnam Veteran Bill Cantwell sharing his story as part of the Homefront project. The experiences and feedback he shared helped inform the design of the Vietnam Veteran sculpture now installed in Greensborough War Memorial Park.

Eleven Australian soldiers were killed and 28 wounded in the first few hours of battle. I still have nightmares about it, but I remember the universal courage of my comrades: including the mortar platoon and the artillery soldiers whose positions were overrun by the enemy. Even the Transport Officer (another job not usually associated with close combat) performed with considerable personal courage in re-supplying the soldiers with ammunition. Mr Fischer was later to become Deputy Prime Minister of Australia (for real). There were many actions of great courage that have not been ‘officially’ recognised. Though they do not need to be, for we the survivors know!

The next morning, the Americans dropped in a bulldozer (under a Sky Crane helicopter) so that we might bury the enemy dead. Our dead were, as usual, gathered into ‘body bags’ and placed in helicopters. They were flown by RAAF transport planes to burials in Australia (if the family paid the fare) or in the nearest Commonwealth War Grave (Malaya). I am reminded of Eric Bogle’s song ‘No-mans Land’. It concerns the burial of a fallen soldier (Young Willie MacBride) in Flanders Fields during WW1. In the reverse of that situation, our Vietnam soldiers were not the mourners by the graveside. Our soldiers were the bereaved far away, with no opportunity to grieve, to mourn, or to pity. For the war moved on to another day–to perhaps another ‘contact’ with the enemy. Indeed, the Battle of Coral continued relentlessly — though with fluctuating intensity, for weeks. ‘Coral’ was part of the wider battle including the nearby Australian Fire Support Base of Balmoral. My 20th Birthday passed without death or celebration, and we eventually returned to our permanent base at Nui Dat. 26 Australians had been killed and another 100 wounded at Coral/Balmoral.

The continuous patrolling Operations left all of us, in varying degrees: undernourished, underweight, chronically tired, emotionally numb, and intellectually flat. And dirty. One of my rare personal contacts with the Americans was in a ‘safe’ area near a large village. We had been out in the jungle for about four weeks, we had dug trenches and we had not had an opportunity to wash at all. We were greeted by some American soldiers with the question: “How did you guys get so dirty?” We were confused and speechless! We learnt that the American soldiers had hot meals and showers brought to them by helicopter!

Sometimes on Operations, we did get to wash. On one occasion, we had moved into a safe Fire Support Base out in the jungle somewhere. We went down to the creek and had awash–next to some artillery soldiers. One of them called out “Hey Bill! What are you doing here?” It was Peter Dealy from my Form at Numurkah High! That was a catch-up! Like having a trip home for a few minutes. I enjoyed the update on the Murray League even though I was a supporter of the Picola League. In fact: any news from ‘the outside world’ was more than welcome. Generally, out in the jungle, we only knew what we could see or hear with our own faculties. One story that did miraculously reach us in the jungle was that: an American athlete at the Olympic Games had smashed the long jump record. It was true!

My memory is a little hazy on the point, but I think it was not long after catching up with Peter that I was shot. I was the ‘forward scout’ for Charlie Company at that moment. Nobody was keeping scores but anecdotal evidence was that forward scouts had a high casualty rate. The enemy bullet went through my right eye–across behind my nose and lodged in my left jawbone. Two of my comrades were killed and 5 of us were wounded. The enemy was still firing over us from a bunker position when about 5 of my comrades moved forward under this enemy fire to retrieve us. They were pinned down. Pete got a smoke grenade to work, picked me up and carried me out! He saved my life! They retrieved us all.

Back a little from the front line, one of the rescue groups; ‘Doc’ Clark, was now in a state of shock. Doc was the Company medic. He told me years later that: what started his brain going again was the realisation that I was drowning in my blood. He immediately found a scalpel, and on the jungle floor, he performed a ‘trachy’ on me (cut a hole into my windpipe so that I could breathe). He saved my life too! Doc had been an electrical salesman and had run a transport business before he was conscripted. The Army made a good call when they allocated him to Medical Core! He is revered by all who served with him.

Sculpture’ designer Amanda Gibson and Bill Cantwell with The Letter, depicting a woman waiting for a loved one serving elsewhere. One of eight new wooden sculptures at the Greensborough War Memorial Park, in Melbourne’s north-east.

My mate Daryl copped the job of carrying me to the helicopter. I wasn’t looking real flash I suppose. Something happened to the first helicopter, and Daryl had to carry me through the jungle to another one. When Daryl returned to Charlie Company, he told them to “forget Bill — he’s dead!” When I went to a ‘Coral Reunion’ about 15 years later they were saying to me, ” But you’re dead!” Daryl, who occasionally comes from South Gippsland, is a very good mate. The Army had ‘lost’ me for a week or so, the helicopter had carried me to the American ’21 Evacuation Hospital’ at Long Binh. There, I awoke on the operating table, and I knew nothing! According to the theatre staff: they told me that I was “in Vietnam” and I replied: “Vietnam–that rings a bell!” When they told me that I had been shot, I replied: “I am very tired, and I am going back to sleep. Wake me up if anyone starts shooting!” That is how we lived — and you can’t stop living.

After a short stay at the Australian hospital at Vung Tau, they sent me back to Australia. Heidelberg Repatriation Hospital became my home until they closed the Ward for Christmas in December 1968. At Watsonia Barracks, Major Anderson (Officer Commanding-Personnel Depot) asked me what I intended to do when I ‘got out’. I told him I was going back to school, and he replied that he would give me a Discharge “next January in time for School”. This was a huge favour. Watsonia became my ‘halfway house’ where I learnt to be a civilian — where I learnt to live in the city — with civilians. There were many Vietnam Veterans who were thrown straight back into civilian life and couldn’t cope. Pete, who was awarded the Military Medal for his bravery, became an alcoholic. Like many Veterans, he was restless and nomadic. He finally settled in Cairns, and that’s where he was when someone stole his car and all his ‘worldlys’. Years later, when Pete was dying in hospital, it was Doc Clark who sat by his bed for days, because he wasn’t going to let a mate die alone.

I approached the Repatriation Department for assistance under the Soldiers Children’s Education Scheme. My dad had died a TPI (he had been a POW of the Japanese). At 20 years of age, I was still a child. My brother Bob (now Dr. Rob Cantwell of Newcastle University) was studying at Monash under that Scheme. The clerk asked what happened to me. He suggested that I should be assisted under The Disabled Members & Widows Training Scheme (known as ‘Dimwits’ for short). Dimwits it was, and I studied Year 12 (missed Year 11) and then went on to Law. There were 500 Australian soldiers killed in Vietnam, and 3,000 wounded. Yet, as far as I could see there were only four of us on ‘Dimwits’. It wasn’t a Secret, but nobody knew about the ‘Dimwits Scheme’. My six gap years made it difficult, and I am sceptical of the benefits of even one gap year. I was fortunate enough to practice law for about 30 years, mostly in litigation (courtwork).

This kid from Katunga is now peacefully retired in Melbourne and enjoying life. I would like to thank the Alumni for this opportunity to share some of my experiences with my real peers — the ex-students and teachers of Numurkah High School. Thank you, Bill Cantwell.

We regret to inform you that our good friend Bill Cantwell passed away on 25 June 2023. He was a lively character who was well-known at the Repat gym and will be missed by many. In memory, we thought it was important to share an insight into Bill’s life. Read his address to his old high school and click on the video, to watch his Vietnam War Story on Facebook. Get in touch if you have any questions.

You May Also Like…

Member Spotlight: Olyve Clarke

Member Spotlight: Olyve Clarke

MEMBER SPOTLIGHT: Honouring Our Veterans, One Story at a Time Welcome to the Camberwell Pompey Elliott RSL’s Member...

The Melbourne Tramways Big Band

The Melbourne Tramways Big Band

Melbourne Tramways Big Band Did you know we have a group of talented musicians in our midst? The Melbourne Tramways...

Member Spotlight: Barry Jones

Member Spotlight: Barry Jones

MEMBER SPOTLIGHT: Honouring Our Veterans, One Story at a Time Welcome to the Camberwell Pompey Elliott RSL’s Member...