Three Zero Alpha

By Ray DeVere

Three Zero Alpha is the story of 3 Troop, an armoured cavalry unit (Armoured Personnel Carriers) APC and its Troop Leader, Ray De Vere, during the Vietnam War. Three Zero Alpha was Ray’s radio call sign.
Arriving in Vietnam, the men are rapidly introduced to the taking of human life and the horror of dealing with it. There is a tragic tale of a river ambush, and the impact that it had on many members of the troop.
Vietnam was not a war with declared front lines, and the enemy was everywhere. The farmer with a hoe in his hand, who waved to armoured vehicles going down a track, might put down the hoe and pick up a rocket propelled grenade to fire at a passing APC.
In June 1969, the troop was involved in one of the most significant battles of the Vietnam War. The Battle of Binh Ba was fought in a built-up area against two battalions of a North Vietnamese Army regiment. Supporting the troop, tanks and an under strength infantry company made up the Australian component.
The battle was fierce. Infantry soldiers found themselves in a building facing the enemy and throwing hand grenades back and forth. Ray gives credit to his troop for the way in which they maintained their drills, discipline and courage which led to success on the day.
An important part of the success of 3 Troop during its time in Vietnam was the bond and camaraderie that was developed amongst its members. In a lengthy epilogue Ray provides anecdotes of how this camaraderie has continued to this very day.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ray DeVere
• Release date: Nov 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005491321

Book preview

THREE ZERO ALPHA

by

Ray De Vere

Smashwords Edition

Copyright Ray De Vere 2020

Contents

Chapter 1 Prologue

Chapter 2 Training for Vietnam

Chapter 3 Arriving in South Vietnam

Chapter 4 Taking Command of 3 Troop

Chapter 5 River Ambush

Chapter 6 Life in Nui Dat

Chapter 7 Baria Ready Reaction Force

Chapter 8 The Dribble System

Chapter 9 Cavalry Tasks

Chapter 10 Mines and Things That Go Boom

Chapter 11 Battle of Binh Ba

Chapter 12 Hoa Long 7 June

Chapter 13 Xuyen Moc

Chapter 14 Ambush Nui Tam Bo

Chapter 15 Operation Long Tan

Chapter 16 Land Clearing Operations

Chapter 17 Land Clearing Operations Two

Chapter 18 Rest and Recreation Australia

Chapter 19 Land Clearing Operations Three

Chapter 20 Rest and Convalescence

Chapter 21 Operation Market Garden

Chapter 22 Last Field Operations

Chapter 23 Going Home

Chapter 24 Epilogue

Appendix 1 Poem by Sergeant B M Mitchell

Acknowledgement and Thanks

Prologue

I was born in 1938 at Sister Selth’s Private Hospital in the Adelaide suburb of St Peters, about a year before World War II began in Europe. Joseph Lyons, who unveiled the Dog on the Tuckerbox in Gundagai, was Australian Prime Minister. Our house in St Peters was reasonably large with a bitumen tennis court attached. One of my earlier memories is riding my tip truck pedal car around that court after a rain shower and dumping the little daughter of one of my father’s friends in a puddle. As I recall I was given a pretty severe lecture about that event and my car was locked up for some time.

We left Adelaide about ten years later, after my parents separated, and moved to my mother’s ancestral home in the South East region of South Australia. I attended both primary and high school in Naracoorte without any great distinction apart from topping the Latin class in first year high school and a brief stint in the senior Australian Rules Football (AFL) team. Leaving after only two years at high school at fifteen-and-a-half years old, I commenced my working life as a jackaroo at Killanoola, a sheep and cattle station next door to the old family property of Greenbank at Bool Lagoon.

Life as a jackaroo was one of long hours, some very menial tasks, little pay, and—on reflection—pretty poor training. After nearly two years of chasing sheep (amongst nature’s most dim-witted animals) and cattle around a very large property, I decided to join the army and escape the dreary life that stretched in front of me in the country.

On breaking the news of my decision to my mother, I recall her saying, ‘Well, I’m not surprised. Many years ago you told me you wanted to be a tank driver when you grew up.’

I don’t clearly remember the event, but it seems that I attended a parade in Adelaide with my father just after victory over the Japanese was declared, and was inspired by the armoured vehicles on parade.

Mid-1955 saw me arriving at Kapooka, the Army Recruit Training Centre, just outside Wagga Wagga in New South Wales, to start recruit training. I arrived with a high degree of anticipation but not much real knowledge of what I was in for. Probably because of my bush background and high level of general fitness, coping with the physical demands was no problem, nor was weapon training, which came easy to someone who had started shooting at age eight or nine and owned several rifles before turning fourteen. My rifles included a BSA .303 of World War One vintage that came complete with a magazine cut off slide to minimise the ingestion of desert dust.

A notable instructor at Kapooka was Sergeant Curly Lamb, a Korean infantry war veteran who was as tough and as hard as nails but very fair. Curly inspired many of us with his fitness and his constant keep it up, keep going, you lot when we were on a route march or long run. He more than made up for the pathetic excuse we were given as a platoon commander, a complete grub in every sense; fortunately we saw little of him. Another character I remember vividly, but not his name, was nicknamed the General, a large portly fellow, considerably older than most of us; who turned up on parade on day one to be told by our platoon commander that he was a fat slob, an absolute disgrace and would never make a soldier while ‘his arse pointed to the ground’

Several days later we had our first battle dress parade in spit polished boots and a few members of the platoon who had prior service had their service ribbons sewn on to their battle dress jackets by this time. The General had two and a half rows of campaign and service ribbons including a mention in despatches oak leaf proudly displayed on his jacket; no more derogatory remarks about his ability were made.

Curly Lamb was very keen for me to be allocated to infantry, despite the fact that I had lost my slouch hat early in the piece and continued to wear a beret, the normal head dress of the armoured corps, to which I wanted to be allocated. I had also polished my beret badge to within an inch of its life and for some reason the normal copper colour turned silver, the usual colour of an armoured corps badge.

I do not think my protestations that the colour change was not deliberate were ever believed, but I continued to wear it. In August 1955 I was allocated to the Royal Australian Armoured Corps and posted to 1st Armoured Regiment at Puckapunyal in Victoria.

On arriving at the 1st Armoured Regiment I was told that I would become a tank driver in C Squadron; boyhood aspirations about to come true. In those days the tank driving course was much longer than the current course, commencing with a B vehicle driving course centred on jeeps and World War II trucks such as the Ford and Chevrolet blitz; then followed by a radio course of some intensity and finally a lengthy period on Centurion tanks.

One of the more memorable instructors was a known to all as Sgt Slim Kennard, a loud, rude, crude character, who beneath his gruff exterior, really cared for his charges and ensured we learnt all we needed to become proficient drivers.

I hit it off very well with Slim, probably because I had learnt to drive on jeeps and blitz trucks in the bush and was more than competent on the basic knowledge required. I sometimes drove him home to his married quarter after training and would then take the vehicle back to the compound. Of course this was completely illegal as I did not have my army driver’s licence.

The first time I protested Slim, who had a bit of a lisp, just said, ‘If there are any bloody pwoblems, I’ll sort them out.’

Slim, later as a Squadron Sergeant Major, became famous for telling troops who wandered off the footpaths on to the lawns or parade grounds to ‘get off the gwass, you fucking wabbits.’

For a while I was content driving tanks around the Puckapunyal range continually practicing, mainly, WWII British army tank tactics; an experience that later proved to be very beneficial. A few years later, after an early marriage, a stint back in Civvy Street and returning to 1st Armoured Regiment I decided to make the army my career.

Driving a tank was great fun, the Centurion tank weighed just over 50 tons, had a 650 BHP Roll Royce V12 engine, and a top speed of 21.5 miles per hour; some were a little faster though. However, a career as a tank driver for the next 20 or 30 years was not all that appealing when considered carefully. So began a series of courses to improve the level of Royal Australian Armoured Corps (RAAC) skills, such as gunnery, tactics, and logistic based modules plus a range of military knowledge skills required for promotion. In reasonably short order I was promoted to Corporal and commanding a tank.

To move much further up the food chain an improved level of education was required. My commanding officer (CO) at the Regiment was very helpful in getting me started and keeping me on track. During this time I was posted to a guided weapons trials unit at the Armoured Centre, which meant increased educational study and trials duties. It made for a fairly heavy workload. When the trials ended I returned to the Regiment, was promoted to Sergeant and advised by my CO that I should apply for a commission, back to academic studies through night school and correspondence courses.

In 1966 I was back at the Armoured Centre as an instructor guided weapons when I was informed that my application for a commission had been approved and that I would start a six-week officer qualifying course at Canungra in May that year.

I graduated as a lieutenant on 13 June, 1966. One very clear memory is that of the method by which we ‘officer cadets’ were informed of our pass/fail result.

The final address was given in the main lecture hall, with no indication of whether we had passed or failed. We were simply told to return to our rooms and change into the jackets we had handed to the tailor the day before. Those with officers’ pips on were to report to the mess for morning tea; those with their old ranks on were to pack and report to the orderly room in one hour.

Some twisted military mind obviously came up with that idea.

I spent some eighteen months at the 2nd Recruit Training Battalion to settle in as an officer outside the Corps (RAAC). During this time, I spent six months as a platoon commander, around eight months as the second in command of C Company, and two months as the acting Company Commander.

It was then the news arrived that I was being posted to Detachment A Squadron 3rd Cavalry Regiment based at Holsworthy, NSW, for training and subsequent deployment to South Vietnam.

Chapter 2

Training for Vietnam

My initial posting order directed me to report to Holsworthy in the role of Liaison Officer/ Quarter Master (LO/QM) as a lieutenant; not a role that I was wildly excited about because I did not see myself as a glorified storeman, I was a fighting soldier, but I had to endure for a few months. Fortunately for me two things happened at about the same time: I learnt that I had been promoted to temporary captain to be employed as an Armoured Personnel Carrier troop leader, and Lt Lionel Callaghan arrived to become the LO/QM. Life was about to become far more exciting from my perspective.

Taking up the position at Holsworthy meant I had left my wife Marie and our two children, Debra and Rick, at our Puckapunyal married quarter and commuted home on occasional weekends, which did not make for an ideal domestic situation. Fortunately, the married quarter wheels in Holsworthy began to turn, and in December of 1967 I was allocated a brand-new house on the base and the family moved in on Christmas Eve.

Preparation for deployment to South Vietnam included a mandatory three-week course at the Jungle Training Centre (JTC) located just outside Canungra in Queensland. In my opinion it was a near total waste of time. We had a gruelling three weeks of general fitness training, confidence course and obstacle course exercises, weapons training with infantry weapons, minor tactics exercises in infantry roles and some limited background lectures on Vietnamese culture, history and enemy tactics. There was far too much emphasis placed on running and jumping off stuff we cavalry soldiers were not used to.

However, on reflection, it was useful as a team building exercise. I attended with almost my complete training troop from Holsworthy, and was able to see how they performed as a group under some pressure on a number of occasions.

On the other hand, even this aspect was of dubious benefit given that our unit deployments were at the individual level, and not based on unit or sub-unit change overs as happened in a number of units, particularly the infantry battalions who normally went to Vietnam in their entirety. It was, and remains, my view that the three weeks spent at JTC could have been far better utilised in concentrated armoured corps weapons training, both personal and vehicle weapons, briefings by recently returned Armoured Personnel Carrier (APC) crewmen on current tactics and drills being applied in Vietnam, together with necessary lectures on Vietnamese culture history and enemy tactics.

Physical training could also have been appropriately interspersed, rather than being a focus of the event. For example, much was made of the ability to jump off tall towers into the water, and climb over tall timber walls in the middle of the jungle.

I have yet to meet an armoured corps crewman who actually put this training into practice in Vietnam. One Jock McCourt, an infantry man for whom I had the greatest respect, directed my troop to run back up the hill and climb over the wall, rather than run around it.

‘Mr McCourt,’ I told him, ‘you have the advantage of me. I haven’t been to Vietnam, but when I do go, if I find an eight feet high wall in the middle of the jungle I will either drive around it or through it. I will not jump out of my APC and climb over it.’

One extremely useful practice adopted by the squadrons of 3rd Cavalry Regiment was the sending of information on operations in Vietnam back to the reinforcing unit at Holsworthy. This information contained, among other things, a schematic of the squadron layout at the Task Force base in Nui Dat where I was to be based in the not too distant future.

The information was detailed, down to individual vehicle positions, copies of daily routine orders which detailed various duties carried out by squadron members, maps of mine incident locations, after action reports, vehicle defect reports and various low-level intelligence briefings. This was a valuable training tool and enabled training troops to keep abreast of developments in Vietnam, at the same time getting a feel for the routine of life in Nui Dat.

The information also enabled orientation of the squadron area to occur very quickly as, I discovered when I arrived in Vietnam many months later. On getting out of the Land Rover I knew immediately where all the key buildings and essential facilities were in relation to each other.

Early in 1968, I attended exercise Grass Parrot in Shoalwater Bay, just north of Rockhampton, Queensland as an umpire for the armour aspects of the exercise. My role was to observe and comment on the performance and deployment of the APC troop and to adjudicate during any contacts between the opposing forces.

This exercise was the final deployment exercise for 1st Battalion Royal Australian Regiment (RAR) prior to its move to Vietnam the following month. A training troop from Detachment A Squadron 3rd Cavalry Regiment under command of Captain Patrick Poulsom was despatched to provide armoured mobility to 1 RAR.

In discussions at the squadron prior to the move to Shoalwater Bay it was agreed that it would be far better for the armour umpire to be from the troop, to allow for observation from the enemy side and to not have to be breathing down the troop leader’s neck at all times.

The decision saw an umpire APC and driver being added to the squadron contribution, which quite apart from the benefits outlined above, greatly added to the logistic arrangements for the umpire. It also meant that radio communications were vastly enhanced with the umpire vehicle being on the, umpire net, APC troop net and infantry net, a far cry from balancing on the back of the troop leader’s vehicle while carrying a man pack radio and selecting the appropriate net as required.

On one particular occasion Pat Poulsom was very irritated with the 1RAR company commander who, on running into a frontal enemy contact would not listen to Pat’s advice to mount a flanking move through the mangroves.

‘APCs cannot move through mangrove swamps,’ he said.

Despite my supporting words that Pat was giving him good advice, he pressed forward with a mounted platoon in three APC. In my role as umpire I knocked out the lead vehicle and disabled another. The company commander was not happy and called for the chief umpire, a Colonel Gerry O’Day to adjudicate.

While waiting I took my vehicle and carried out a flanking move along the route, which Pat and I had discussed through the mangroves and came out on the flank of the enemy position, somewhat surprisingly the enemy commander had not heard us until we were about thirty metres from his position. I returned to the company commander’s position and told him, perhaps a little too pointedly, that I had just carried out a successful flanking move and that he should not under-estimate the capability of the APC. Colonel O’Day later took me aside and while supporting my actions as an umpire suggested that next time I wanted to stick it up some one who deserved it, to better consider my choice of words. 1 RAR later completed a very successful tour of Vietnam

In the middle of July 1968, 3 Troop deployed by C130 aircraft to Adelaide, and then by road transporter to Cultana, a military training area not far from Whyalla. Cultana is a very open, mostly flat area with some undulations and a hilly range on its western border, the vegetation is mostly low salt bush with a few patchy copses of trees scattered about. Dry hot days and freezing nights completed the setting.

Not an ideal environment to train for a jungle war.

On the plus side, the very openness made it very easy to train with the infantry in infantry/armour drills, such as loading/unloading, calling for fire support and subsequent fire direction, navigation on the move, and harbour drills.

The troop worked with all companies in 9 RAR in a round robin training sequence, with the aim of improving and refining a range of techniques. These included cordon and search, mounted/dismounted attacks with supporting fire, and moving into night harbours. The openness of the terrain made it very easy to practice an old WWII desert technique of moving armoured vehicles into a night leaguer during the day and then applying it at night.

Late in the afternoon the infantry and armour troops formed into a wagon wheel to carry out administrative chores, the outer perimeter consisting of APC and infantry sections, with the central area being occupied by the four vehicles of troop headquarters and the infantry company headquarters.

All essential vehicle and weapon servicing, plus eating and other preparations for night routine, were completed by night, and the groups stood to until dark. Infantry troops mounted their vehicles and the formation moved—usually in a line ahead formation—to a designated position some distance from their afternoon point. A useful tactical wrinkle was to execute a 180-degree turn at some point and move about 30/50 metres parallel to the previous route for at least 500 metres (in case an enemy group were following tracks).

The group then adopted a wagon wheel formation again. When the troop leader was satisfied all was well, he ordered the infantry to unload and take up their night positions. Engines were then switched off and the agreed degree of alert was maintained during the night.

An unusual aspect of this particular exercise was that the commanding officer of 9 RAR, Lieutenant Colonel Albie Morrison, authorised the carrying of, and discharge of, personal weapon ammunition for the duration. I sought, and gained approval for my troop, to be included and we were duly provided with a very liberal ration of 9mm for our pistols and F1 sub machine guns plus 7.62mm for the self-loading rifles. A number of range practices were carried out during