The mood in the room darkens. Once again – again! – the Australian Army and the RAAF are at loggerheads on an operational issue, with the Army taking the view that too often the RAAF goes Missing In Action, through an excess of timidity.
Canberra?
Canberra?
You think we can win a f—ing war, moving swiftly, when your every move has to be first approved by Canberra?
“Well, I’m about to lose a company!′ Jackson explodes. ’What the hell’s a few more choppers and a few more pilots!”
Well, Raw does not care to risk his machines or his men on such an insane venture, which would only make things worse, and will not budge. Besides everything else, Canberra has issued clear protocols from the start. RAAF choppers are to offer general support only.
Iroquois helicopters on the pad at 1ATF HQ ready for a troop support mission, August 1966.Credit:AWM
Their role is not to be offensive, which is why right now the Brigadier’s rage is precisely that.
And the Brigadier, feeling the pressure, will not change his own view:
F— not being offensive, this is ridiculous!
The Brigadier is ropable and upon briefly returning to the Operations Centre to gather himself – just next tent flap along – lets some of it out, within earshot of Sergeant Norm Austin who will long recall the explosion.
“I can’t get the f—ing air force to do any f—ing thing!”
It really is outrageous.
So, who else can get a chopper there?
There is just one possibility, and now turning to the American Air Force Air Liaison Officer, Major Dick Gerron, Jackson explores it. Only a day earlier the base had been visited by the US Chief of Air Staff and relations with the Americans are stronger than ever. Jackson now calls Gerron, to ask if the Americans could use a couple of their Hueys to drop the required ammunition.
“Dick?”
This man, an officer and a gentleman, has no hesitation.
“Well, Brigadier,” he says, “I dare say my guys can help out.”
Really?
“Really. We should be able to get a couple of Hueys here in no more than 30 minutes.”
Flt Lt Frank Riley at the controls of his No.9 Squadron RAAF Iroquois helicopter, 1966.Credit:AWM
All eyes turn to Group Captain Raw.
Can this Australian RAAF Captain really let the Yanks go to the aid of Australians, while they will not?
Just maybe, but Flight Lieutenant Frank Riley will be buggered if he is going to let that happen on his watch – for one thing 30 minutes will be far too late – and speaks up for the first time.
“Well, I’ll go out there,” he says. “I don’t care if we’re allowed to go or not, I’ll go.”
Who is this now?
The room turns to look at the Iroquois helicopter pilot, with the now goggle-eyed Bob Grandin standing beside him. (Did Frank really just say “I’ll go out there”– by which he clearly meant “WE will go out there’“– meaning Frank is offering his and his crew’s services to go and drop the ammo on Delta Company in the middle of a vicious firefight? He bloody well did!)
Oh. It is Riley.
Can he be serious?
Yes.
When Group Captain Raw intervenes, pointing out again that Riley going would breach the protocols for sending helicopters, and in any case he was not remotely equipped for it, Riley riles up, just this side of insubordination to a superior officer.
“I don’t give a damn, I’m in charge of these aeroplanes, I’m the contingent commander, I say we will go.”
(Grandin blanches. He just said it! “We will go”!)
In the vacuum created by his words, Riley repeats his point.
“I am tactical commander of the helicopter,” he says. “I decide what it can and cannot do. I say we go.”
(Bob Grandin winces this time: Frank’s done it again!) It is a delicate point.
Australian army officer Ross Smith, right, with an unnamed American officer in Vietnam.
The military protocol indeed dictates that the captain of each aircraft is the sole commander of it while it is on detachment from its base and operational – just like the captain of a ship is the sole arbiter of what is and isn’t safe for his crew. And even though his chopper is on the ground right now, and he is well down the chain of command, Riley is asserting his right to do as he sees fit. Yes, he might indeed be disciplined for it afterwards, but right now, if he says he is going without seeking permission, then he can indeed do exactly that.
And this gung-ho pilot – ever and always frustrated by red tape – means it, making the salient point for the third time.
“I am the commander of my aircraft in the field, and have the right to make tactical decisions about what I can and can’t do. If I wasn’t in this tent I wouldn’t be asking anyone for permission.”
And he is not asking permission now.
“I will go.”
It is a neat solution.
For the likelihood, of course, is that he and his helicopter – and Flight Lieutenants Cliff Dohle and Bruce Lane, if they decide to accompany them in the other chopper – will be shot from the skies, in which case any act of discipline will be entirely beside the point. And if they are not and succeed in dropping the ammunition onto Delta Company, well, they will be bloody heroes and there will be no need to discipline them.
Brigadier Jackson looks to Riley.
“Will you really go?”
“Yes.”
“Can he really do that?” Brigadier Jackson asks, looking at Group Captain Raw, referring to all the protocols.
Group Captain Raw recognises the truth of the situation, and also the enormous courage being displayed, the way out of the morass for all of them, while also possibly helping Delta Company.
Australian soldiers during the battle of Long Tan in Vietnam.Credit:Australian War Memorial
“Are you sure, Frank?” Raw asks softly. “This is flying into an unsafe area.”
“I would prefer to try than do nothing,” Riley responds.
“Maybe we should check with higher authority,” Raw offers uncertainly, thinking of at least consulting Wing Commander Ray Scott, the Commanding Officer of No. 9 Squadron, who is at Vung Tau.
“He will only fuck around and waste time,” Riley says firmly. “It’s my helicopter in this situation and I say we go.”
Raw falls silent. He looks up, lost in thought.
He considers all the angles, the implications, the responsibilities, the fallout if it goes wrong, which it surely will, but the obligation they all have to help Delta Company right now.
“I guess you’re right,” Raw finally concedes.
“About time someone in the RAAF showed some guts,” Brigadier Jackson expostulates in a moment of rare public emotion, looking warmly at Riley, and not even noticing the flabbergasted Bob Grandin over the pilot’s shoulder. “Get over to Eagle Farm and load up.”
Captain Raw backs down – or at least says little more.
Veterans marching on the 52nd Anniversary of the Battle of Long Tan at the Shrine of Remembrance in Melbourne. Credit:Paul Jeffers
He is not giving permission, and the flight is not officially sanctioned – as it is clearly madness to fly into the middle of a battle without any fire support of their own.
Long Tan book cover.
But Captain Raw is not moving to stop them.
So they have a Raw deal; the Group Captain will wash his hands and they can go out there and get dirty.
We are off to saddle up, load the helicopter with ammo, and see if the other chopper crew will accompany us on the same basis. Brigadier Jackson snaps orders for Riley to get his chopper – or choppers, if he can convince his mate – over to Eagle Farm by 1730 hours where, after more snapped orders, boxes of ammunition should be arriving within minutes.
Once outside, Bob Grandin is still reeling at how quickly everything has transpired, how they have gone from being, “It’s too risky to fly,” to “Okay, we are doing this,” in the space of a couple of minutes.
And that is despite Grandin already trying to pull Riley into line in a hushed but heated conversation in the Operations Centre.
“How will we find them?” he’d asked Riley, sotto voce. “Why won’t we just be shot out of the air by a superior force? How can we land? What could we actually do that would help?”
But Frank hadn’t wanted to listen. Those questions were way too logical for him.
Now, Grandin needn’t be so restrained.
Stopping the RAAF veteran with a paw on the shoulder, Grandin asks the question that has to be asked of his great mate, the one who is “always looking for action”, which on the one hand is admirable, but in this case looks very likely to get them all killed.
“What the hell are you doing? This is a suicide mission. How are we going to get back?”
Riley rises to the occasion, rather like his chopper right into the teeth of a howling gale, and throws out a challenge.
“We probably won’t,” he replies evenly. “You don’t have to come.”
And meantime, Bob, while I have your complete attention?
“Shut up, stop giving me the shits.”
“But there are hordes out there, Frank. It’s impossible.”
“You don’t have to come,” he responds. “Volunteers only.”
This is an edited extract from Peter FitzSimons’ book The Battle of Long Tan published by Hachette Australia on October 26
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