DAVO'S VIETNAM WAR HOMECOMING TO AUSTRALIA, JULY 1968

No One Told Us What We Were In For...

On joining the Commonwealth Police there was a measure of acceptance in the fact that I was a Vietnam Veteran. Not so with the public of Australia. As a Vietnam Veteran there was a hostility in this nation towards us that was fuelled by the media.  This hostility singled out veterans as the object for anti Vietnam War anger. It was made very personal, and the majority of veterans felt the onslaught of public opinion against them. Same war, different battleground - new enemy - different tactics.

New Battle Lines...

This was an era in which, we as a nation, cannot be proud.  A generation of young men and women were robbed of their youth by a war that was fought in the lounge rooms through the medium of television.  To think that young men and women, ordered to fight for their nation could be treated in such a way was a national disgrace.  As a Vietnam Veteran and a serving member of the Police Force of the Commonwealth I was thrown into a different front line.  The battle lines were drawn and the enemy was very much visible - Australians - hell bent on doing me some physical harm.

Moritorium Demonstrations

One of the tasks of my daily duties was to attend the moratorium demonstrations on the front line in Sydney, battle student abuse for nearly 8 - 12 hours a day and then go off duty and return to society as if nothing ever happened. If there was any other single thing in this nation that gave rise to the veteran being alienated from his own people, it was the way national and international media fuelled public opinion and the demonstrations.  I remember that a "draft dodger" was for me in the same category as a VC.  I won't deny it, I hated the enemy (students) and loved the opportunity to show them so.

I stood alongside many Vietnam Veterans,who had chosen to serve their State and country in another capacity, serving Police NSW and Commonwealth), to be pushed, spat on, urinated on, flower bombed, water bombed, abused with language that even curled my ears, and threatened with every form of corporal punishment in the book by demonstrators. To me it wasn't just a demo - this was all out war, and I was going to survive no matter what. Those years of moratorium took its toll on my health, and I found myself in Concord hospital suffering from severe anxiety depression (PTSD). I returned from Vietnam already suffering from PTSD, and the demo's tipped the scales for me.  The doctors called it "Severe Anxiety Depression" (PTSD hadn't been understood in 1968).  They really didn't understand, and couldn't treat me, so it was back to the front line. (read about Concord Hospital - click here)

"You Didn't Fight a Real War..."

Everywhere you turned in society you had a fight on your hands. No wonder Vietnam veterans stuck to themselves, withdrew from society and had the highest suicide rate per head of population in this country! No wonder with the way they were treated! Even the RSL rejected us - "You didn't fight in a real war," we were told over and over again!  I remember what the reaction of the families who lost a loved one in the war would have been to that type of remark.

"Ignorance..."

Even today, when we vets get a chance to share with others (non-veterans) what it was like living in Australia after returning from Vietnam, the standard reply is, "I didn't know all this went on (to the veteran that is)."  As a Vietnam Veteran I have a distinct distaste and distrust of the media, and it remains to this day.

"I'm No To Blame..."

The four years after I returned from Vietnam were worse than anything I could have imagined at the time. Australia was the nation of my birth.  I was an Aussie, a "Digger", and I had gone to Vietnam in the tradition of my forefathers and my father, and upheld the integrity of the Aussie Digger and the tradition of the "ANZAC." I can't tell you how ashamed I was to call myself an Aussie in those years. If people asked if I had been to Vietnam I would say, " no" just to avoid the avalanche that would follow. Young men and women, robbed of their youth in the prime of their life. Were we to blame? - no! Was it our fault? - no! Did we have control over our life? - no! Did we feel appreciated and respected for serving our country? - no!

A Not So Pleasant Task...

In 1972, I and three other Vietnam Veterans were given the task of protecting the North Vietnamese Communist Delegation on their visit to Sydney. You may recall that our Labour Government of the day had invited them to Australia for trade talks amongst other things. What a slap in the face. We had just spent 3-4 years being abused and belted by demonstrators and now we had to protect the Communist Delegation - it was this that finally broke the straw for me. I had had enough and seriously contemplated talking a walk and going AWOL - permanently!

The Unseen Wounds...

Much has been done to heal the unseen wounds of Vietnam, but more needs to be done. There are still many Veterans who feel it is all too late and it can never change. Their life is one without hope - been there, worn the 'T' shirt, and its not a place I want to go back to.

There is hope, my friend.  For me I had to own the problem, and in owning it I was in a position to do something about it.   There is no shame in being a Vietnam veteran.  What matters is that we take the step to seek help and regain some of the quality of life that we deserve, even thirty years or so down the track.