The New Zealand Herald

War scars raw 50 years on

Veterans salute mates lost in Vietnam or in years since

- Kurt Bayer

Some say time heals all wounds. Old soldiers say the scars of war are always there. “It’s just near the surface somewhere,” says Vietnam veteran Chris Mullane.

It’s been nearly 50 years since he crept through the swampy jungles and paddy fields hunting Viet Cong.

But loud noises, a car backfiring, can bring it all back. And then there’s the dreams. Nightmares, really.

For 69-year-old Mullane, it’ll never go away. “You might think it has, but it sneaks up on you. And something can just kick it over.”

A youthful combat infantry platoon commander with 35 young lives under his guidance in 1971, ambushing and patrolling, uncovering undergroun­d bunker networks, he never lost a man in battle.

But in the decades since, almost half of his war buddies have died. Some succumbed to cancers likely linked to Agent Orange, the toxic chemical used by the US military to defoliate the jungle.

“I’ve had a couple of my guys, unfortunat­ely . . . commit suicide, and some of that would’ve been the build-up of the experience, and no emotional outlet.”

Today the father-of-five and grandfathe­r who lives in Bayswater, on the North Shore, remembers them all.

With 34 other Kiwi veterans of Vietnam, he will be at memorial services in Canberra to mark the war, and also mark 50 years since the Battle of Long Tan, which has become the focal point for commemorat­ions on both sides of the Tasman.

Former artillery officer Barry Dreyer will today remember his close mate Peter Williams — one of 37 Kiwis who died on active service.

They trained together be- fore landing in May 1966, and commanded artillery batteries alongside each other at the Battle of Long Tan.

The 108 men of 6th Battalion Royal Australian Regiment’s D Company found themselves surrounded by up to 2000 Viet Cong in a rubber plantation near the village of Long Tan on the afternoon of August 18, 1966.

A fierce gun battle broke out, and a big thundersto­rm made it even tougher for the gun batteries trying to fire shells with pinpoint accuracy to keep the enemy at bay and give the Aussies a fighting chance at getting out alive.

“It was a period of very intense activity, in awful conditions, with ammunition running out on the gun line, with cooks, bottle washers, visitors, all working hard to keep the ammunition supply up for the guns,” says Dreyer.

“We all knew it was a terribly one-sided fight.”

At dusk the enemy finally withdrew. The Australian­s lost 18 men. But it could’ve been much worse but for the Head to nzherald.co.nz for video interviews accurate and relentless barrage from Dreyer and his mates. An estimated 245 Viet Cong were killed.

Williams, a married father of two, was killed in action on Valentine’s Day 1967. He was due to fly home but had volunteere­d for a final patrol. He was killed by a booby trap.

Dreyer, 71, a father of three with five granddaugh­ters who lives in Howick with wife Judy, returned to Vietnam four years ago and laid poppies at the spot Williams died. “I was very pleased I did it.”

 ??  ?? Chris Mullane (left) with radio operator Private G.J. “White Trash” Murphy in Vietnam. Mullane never lost a man in battle but many of his men later succumbed to cancer likely linked to US use of defoliant Agent Orange, and others took their own lives.
Chris Mullane (left) with radio operator Private G.J. “White Trash” Murphy in Vietnam. Mullane never lost a man in battle but many of his men later succumbed to cancer likely linked to US use of defoliant Agent Orange, and others took their own lives.
 ??  ?? Barry Dreyer (left and below) with a Matt Gauldie work that will be presented to the Australian military.
Barry Dreyer (left and below) with a Matt Gauldie work that will be presented to the Australian military.
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