DAVO'S VIETNAM WAR HOMECOMING TO AUSTRALIA, JULY 1968

Discharge Day - The Battle Contnues

Whilst in-country (Vietnam) I was told that I was to have a short break on return to Australia and then back to Vietnam for a second tour of duty as Senior NCO's in RAE at the time (1968) were scarce. The reason for the short turn around was the discharge of 53 Senior NCO's from the corps that year (1968) on completion of their engagement. Having already suffered one WIA, I was not about to let Charlie or anyone else have a second go at me. I knew that 12 months in Vietnam had somehow changed me. I smoked more, drank to excess, was a loner and was generally not a nice guy to be around when not in the company of other digger mates.

As I recall, I was amending the then MBI's one day in the Troop Office at the Dat, and stumbled across a section in the 'good book' allowing a soldier to veto his re-engagement within six months of re engaging. After getting a second opinion on interpretation of the MBI from my Troop Commander, that was it - my way out. I had always wanted to be a 20 year man, but Vietnam finished that idea off. I submitted my veto application form and was promptly castigated by the CO who in no uncertain terms told me that he would do his best to see that I never got a job with the Commonwealth ever again. At that point I decided I had a new enemy and I began to plot battle strategies. (As a serving Police Officer in the ACT, I never did run into my old CO when he was out and about. I had hoped to pull him over for an infringement and stick it to him real good.)

I was out on an operation in July 68 when the word came to get back to the Dat - "Poulton your'e out of here, pack up and leave town." The calendar had been completed (albeit two months late). I was processed so fast I didn't have time to breath let alone allow time to get a letter off to let my wife to let her know I was coming home. Off to to the airstrip, chopper to Vunger's, off to Saigon and then onto a Qantas flight home. From the bush to the Qantas flight all in a day - how's that for leaving town?

On my arrival at Sydney airport at 0100 hours I was met by the Movement Control Officer (MCO) who ushered me into a back room at the airport and promptly removed my pay book (needed reconciliation at pay office I was told and that there was no money owing to me until after the book was reconciled), informed I was now discharged from the Australian Regular Army and should report to Eastern Command Personnel depot (ECPD) the next day by 1000 hours for issue of discharge certificate. I asked why it was that we landed the hour we did.  I was told that it was to avoid the demonstrators and to allow us to creep back into society.  Hello! Nice way to return.  There was a distinct absent of family and friends to meet the guys when they returned. 

So here I was at Sydney Airport, one o'clock in the morning, no money, no transport and a wife and family who didn't know I was home. We didn't have a car nor a phone so I was literally stranded at Sydney Airport. My plea for military transport to my married quarter (home) fell on deaf ears. I eventually had to bum some money on the street for a cab fare home to Holsworthy. I can't tell you how angry I was at the time. If I had live ammo there would have been a @@@@#!! fight right there in the airport. I arrived home at around 0500 hours and my wife thought there was either a burglar at the door or the Padre to inform her of bad news.

I had time to shower, get my breath and then get public transport from Holsworthy to ECPD at South Head by 1000 hours. The thought in my mind was that if I was late I would probably end up in boob at Holsworthy. I was taken into the RSM's office on arrival, told my discharge certificate would be mailed (signed a heap of  forms) and handed an eviction notice to my married quarter with a deadline of two weeks to vacate or I would be forcibly removed. My reaction was - "bring it on!" After processing, I was back on public transport to Holsworthy with the wonderful news for my wife. We had two young sons at the time and the prospects were not looking good. I almost decided to reapply for the army I can tell you.

My wife was frantic with worry and not impressed with the grace with which I was handled. We fought hand-over-fist to keep our married quarter until I could find a house to buy under War Service Homes. All to no avail. Finally my wife, sick and at her wits end rang the Daily Mirror and we got front page headline - 'Army Stays Eviction!' We were granted an extension on the lease  of the married quarter at our service rental rate and allowed to stay until we bought a War Service home.

I remember going into the RAAF recruiting centre and seeking employment with the RAAF.  I was told that after my experiences in Vietnam, the RAAF would be dead set boring and that I was unsuitable for recruitment.  Never did understand why I wasn't, only that I remember walking out of the recruitment centre having told them to stick it!

No one wanted a Vietnam Vet as an employee except security companies and the Police Force. I tried , Metropolitan Security Service (MSS) for a few months and then I was accepted into The Commonwealth Police on 23rd December 1969. By the time I joined the police, the damage had been done and my family and I were on a down hill run.  Each day was spent looking for other Vietnam Veterans to hang out with.  Society had rejected us and all we had was each other.   The looser in all this was my family.  Some mates left home and returned to the jungles of South East Asia in other capacities.  The tragedy is that it could have been prevented.

Reflection

Things have changed since those days, and I am deliberately sharing this with you in the hope that no young service personnel of this country should ever suffer that type of treatment ever again. In 1968 it was not a grateful nation!

It is interesting to note here that in my claims to DVA I had to prove that I was in Vietnam, that I had qualifying events (exposure in a combat zone) and that I had illnesses that were directly attributable to serving in an active theatre of war. No one bothered to ask what the nation and the media did to contribute to or escalate my illness.

I have always pondered what it would have been like if the nation was grateful and there were no moratorium or lounge room war. Some thirty years down the track we were asked to apply for the "Grateful Nation Certificate." I went to my local member's office, was handed the form, filled it out and was told, "We will mail it to you when the member signs it." I enquired about receiving it personally from the member, as it was my belief that this was the practice only to be told, "No way, mate we mail them out."

In 1968 I was treated as a non-person and in 1999 I was treated the same. As I left the local member's office I remarked, "Nothing much has changed!"