Thoughts and Memories of My Posting to Ubon Thailand with the Raaf March - August 1968

THOUGHTS AND MEMORIES OF MY POSTING TO UBON THAILAND WITH THE RAAF MARCH - AUGUST 1968 (A Blunties Perspective) By:

Vittorio (Vic) CARBONE Ex WOFF SERVICE POLICEMAN A57093

I was a Corporal Service Policeman on posted strength of (APMWA), Assistant Provost Marshall, Western Australia, when I received a posting advice posting me to Base Squadron, 79 Sqn Ubon wef 01 March 1968. Prior to receiving my posting advice I was making arrangements to get married in September 1968. Due to the posting, my then fiancée, Gail Elizabeth Murphy, and I brought forward our wedding day to 28 February 1968. February 1968 was a leap year month. So I was married on 28 February, honeymooned on 29 February 1968, then civil air Perth to Sydney on 1 March 1968, arriving by C130 at Ubon via Richmond, Darwin, Changi and Butterworth, on 3 March 1968. There was also an economic side to bringing my marriage forward. As a married man I was entitled to $1:50 per day marriage allowance, a King’s ransom at the time. I was also entitled to a zone allowance. I experienced sadness and excitement at the same time, leaving my new wife and excited about my posting. It was unchartered waters for me and I had no perception of what it would be like.

I was to get a small taste of what was to come when we landed in Changi, Singapore. The Malaysian confrontation was barely over and the Royal Air Force was still in operational mode. Changi was an RAF Base with several squadrons of aircraft with further squadrons at RAF Seletar and RAF Tengah on Singapore Island. (From September 1971 to December 1973 I completed a tour of duty at Tengah. Ubon and Tengah were both unique postings for me. I was on the last aircraft to leave Ubon at the unit’s shutdown in August 1968 and one of the first to establish our unit at Tengah as part of the ANZUK Force in September 1971). RAF Changi was the typical British ‘moustached, stiff upper lip’ squadron stuff. Khaki uniforms with desert boots, ‘Winco’s and ‘tally ho’,old man and ‘chaps’ was the language of the day very much in the Douglas Bader, RAF Legend mould. It was quite a laugh for ‘we antipodeans’ but we kept our distance. We were in Changi long enough for the crew and passengers of our C130, twelve of us, to get the base bus to the then Changi village to do some shopping. I couldn’t wait to get my first purchase, a Sieko watch, which at the time was the watch to have. Sieko watches faded into obscurity but have recently made a comeback which revives old memories, as everyone at the time had a Sieko watch. From Changi we flew to Ubon via Butterworth. The flight from Richmond to Butterworth was uneventful, thank god, and our C130 wqs carrying an Ambulance for Butterworth and several of us made use of the litters in the ambulance and had a good sleep on the way.

My first impression when I looked at Ubon, my home for the next six months was that it looked like a stalag camp as seen in war time movies and not unlike scenes from the ‘Indiana Jones’ movies. Concrete pathways led everywhere, to the airmen's blocks, the ablutions area, Airmen’s mess area and in between the huts to the camouflaged sand bagged bomb shelters. A ten foot barbed wire fencing surrounded the whole unit and in between the living blocks were the bomb shelters, sandbag bunkers, usually sheltering snakes and spiders. There were corrugated iron clad huts, quite quaint in a tropical environment and greenery, high scream jet noises and a very busy flight strip. The first words spoken to me once we had all alighted from the CI30 was the Base WOD (Warrant Officer Disciplinary) telling me to "get a haircut", nothing like stamping your authority and creating a first impression and all of this in the first 5 days of my married life without my wife and in a strange environment and in a different country. The heat and smells were quite alien to me. In the first ten minutes we, the new arrivals, were subjected to an information overload with the usual do’s and don’ts which was to become part of my job description during my tour at Ubon.

of 21 As it turned out I was the last Service Policeman to be posted to Ubon and remained at the base until it was closed down in late August 1968, when I flew out on the last Dakota aircraft from Ubon to Butterworth via, Korat, Thailand. Korat was a base for USAF B52's. During my posting at Ubon, the Vietnam War was reaching its height and the Ubon base had USAF F4 Phantoms doing bombing runs over North Vietnam and other hot spots. The bombing runs were preceded by USAF Forward Air Control (FACs) also stationed at the base. It didn't take me long to get into the rhythm of the base. In the whole time of my posting no more than four hours went by when we weren't assailed by the scream of fully loaded F4's heading off in pairs times four. I believe the aircraft carried armament equivalent to the weight of the aircraft which was 16 tons. The F4s were a sight to behold particularly when they were taking off at night. They would roar off on full afterburner and the thrust of the afterburner created a fantastic fantail that would hit the runway and be deflected upwards as the aircraft lifted and then could be seen for minutes after as the aircraft disappeared into the dark night sky. Not having witnessed anything like this before, it was quite fascinating for me and other airmen who would go to the back gate just to watch the fireworks of the aircraft. Apart from the F4's, FAC's and C130's bringing bombs/ammunition, there were inflight refuel aircraft used over Laos for the returning F4’s, Royal Thai Air Force T28's, RAAF Sabres, civil aircraft and Air America Pilatus Porters (for Air America read CIA).

RAAF Ubon had a Main Gate fronting onto the main road to Ubon Township and a Back Gate that fronted onto the airfield. The Guard Room and Service Police Office were located at the main gate. The RAAF Contingent at Ubon was made up of 180 airmen comprising those on posted strength to Base Squadron and the remainder made up by 79 Squadron personnel (Pilots and ground crew) from RAAF Butterworth on a 2 monthly turnaround. Base Squadron personnel’s tour of duty was for 6 months.

The RAAF was located on the eastern side of the strip with the USAF (3800 personnel) on the western side of the strip. The USAF personnel’s tour was 12 months. At the time we thought it was funny that they received a medal for their tour of Ubon whereas our troops received no recognition. Our only recognition was the ‘Australia’ slide on our epaulettes. Though it has never been officially recognised, the RAAF presence was in support of the US forces in Ubon.

My first trip into the Ubon township was to have a haircut (remember the WOD's welcome of my fist day). What irked me was that the barber's were inclined to cut hair then cut any nasal hair and ear hair using long probing scissors without any delicate touch. I refused these efforts on subsequent haircuts. The other initiation was to have a welcome drink and the drink of the moment was Pink Gin. Let me say this about Pink Gin and how it affects me. It acts like a fast acting depressant that leaves me a slobbering wreck. Since March 1968 from that time with the Gin, there was only one other time that Gin has affected me and that was in Darwin just after Cyclone Tracy, with the same results. Since then I have never drank the cursed Gin again.

The Service Police presence at Ubon at my time there was one Sergeant, Brian Ward, three corporals, Terry Shanahan, John Paten and I. Our duties included, among other things, Anti-Vice patrols. This duty included visiting strip bars, brothels, out of bounds areas, health card checks (for the ladies of the night). The cards were referred to as "VD" cards and required the ladies to have a medical check every 48-72 hours by local doctors. This check in part helped control the spread of venereal disease (VD). The universal cure for the VD was the injection of penicillin usually administered by a large syringe. Ironically these VD checks were used as a measure in attempting to control the spread of VD. However, once checked the ladies would then ply their trade and invariably contract some form of VD with their first contact (customer) and continue to contaminate others until they had their VD check again. The checks satisfied local authorities but could best be described as a ‘Claytons Control’. (The control you have when you are not having a control) Ironically, each time new members arrived at the base, they were briefed by the Service Police to the dangers and pitfall of certain areas of the Ubon town ship. Out of Bounds areas were highlighted and areas considered dangerous were also indicated. The upshot of highlighting

of 21 these suspect areas was like drawing a child to the fairy floss booth at the Royal Show. We were actually tantalising the troops with forbidden fruit some of which they wanted to try and to our chagrin a few were caught in out of bounds areas and suffered the consequences. Over a period of time there were some anxious moments for airmen and officers alike, who through over indulgence, stupidity or mistaken belief ‘that nothing would happen to me’ contracted the dreaded VD. Thankfully they were cured by the magical penicillin shot but not before sweating it out for 5 days to see if they were clear of VD. These people rarely left base once they had been cured. There was a plentiful supply of condoms at the Guard Room that you had to pass when leaving the base. It was simply a case of OTYBL, (over to you blue leader) to look after yourself.

There are always exceptions. We had one airman (single, luckily) who can best be described as having an "angelic" or "cherubic" face who contracted VD on several occasions. He would go about his daily business blithely with no concerns about his nocturnal activities or the consequences of his actions. Three months out from his return to Australia he was put on "PCOD" (pussy cut off date) by the base authorities. I am happy to report that the incidence of VD on our unit was very low. However, there were some troops who had a very severe case of VD that took quite some time to clear up. Nowadays the risk of contracting STD's would include AIDS, Hepatitis etc. Fortunately, none of those were evident when we were stationed at Ubon or if they were, they were well hidden or unknown to us. There is always a lighter side to this story. When we (the SPs) were officially notified, and I hasten to add in the strictest of confidence, that one of our troops had contracted the VD, we were required to interview the person to determine the usual why, when, where, how and description of the contact. Invariably when you asked the obvious question, that of description etc, you got the most serious reply ‘she had dark hair and had slant eyes’ You had to bite your tongue for fear of bursting out laughing as that description fitted almost the entire female population of Thailand. Nevertheless the job had to be done and tracing the contact was made more arduous by the fact that a lot of the working girls were itinerant and usually came from outlying areas and were very reasonably mobile so tracking them was nigh on impossible. At lot of our boys should thank Sir Alexander Fleming his magnificent discovery of penicillin.

There was even talk that the base should run a controlled brothel. We as Service Police were thankful that it was only talk as we could imagine what Department of Air would have thought of it or for that matter the politicians to say nothing of the press. I’m sure that the talk was for the best intentions and if we go back in history all the great armies had their ‘camp followers’ so it was really nothing new except that we were a modern day Air Force. It didn’t bear thinking about, though talk at the time was serious and the suggestion had come from a senior officer who shall remain nameless.

Other duties included patrol duties with ADG's (Airfield Defence Guards). One such patrol, late one night, involved SP's/ADG's when we were asked by the American authorities to investigate the report of a foreign helicopter (suspected Laotian helicopter) that had appeared on the US Base radar screen. The helicopter had managed to come in under the US radar. However, it revealed itself when it landed and took off again. I add here that the Australian servicemen were the only defence personnel allowed to "carry arms" outside the perimeters of the airstrip and both RAAF/US bases. This was under the Charter of SEATO of which Australia was a signatory to. About 12 ADG's and 2 SP's, myself included, proceeded to the northern end of the strip in pitch darkness save for the starlight and the ambient light of the strip and base. The end of the strip was surrounded by marsh, tall grass and earthen monsoon drains. Needless to say we didn't capture the helicopter due to the harsh terrain but we did locate where a helicopter had landed but nothing else. At about this time I thought I had met my Waterloo. We were proceeding along in single file when I turned around to help the person behind me over a trench when I suddenly and without any warning, I fell into a deep hole. Let me say that I shit myself and it knocked the stuffing out of me. What made it worse was that when I called out for help I suddenly had about five of the patrol climb down to help me out. The appearance of five heads silhouetted against the skylight further added to my panic as the silhouettes did not appear in any

of 21 form that I could readily recognise. In the confusion my immediate reaction was that I was being attacked. I was brought back to my senses when a strongly accented Australian voice said "we will get you out mate", which they did. I was dragged out smelly, muddied, bruised, shaken and anxious. Whilst I have got on with my life I still have a recurring nightmare about that incident.

Another incident with my partner, John Paten, occurred when John and I were finishing our patrol about 0200 hours one morning when we received a radio message from our Guard Room that small arms fire had been reported at the northern end of the runway. John and I proceeded to the area where the shots were thought to come from. We were in our patrol vehicle, a 4WD Willey's utility (a troop carrier with the turning circle of the Ark Royal) along a dirt track with dry savannah grass taller than the vehicle on each side and the only light coming from our vehicle’s headlights. Suddenly and without warning as we negotiated a bend on the dirt track we sighted a crouching Thai soldier with his semi automatic weapon aimed at our windscreen. The soldier was partly camouflaged by the tall grass. He also had a look of fear in his eyes which was to be expected as he was being confronted by our charging behemoth of a vehicle. The brakes of the vehicle worked very efficiently, helped by the sight of a weapon pointed at our head height. Amazingly your world goes silent and slows down waiting for the next reaction, waiting for the bullets to smash through the windscreen, thoughts of home, wife and family immediately flash through your mind. Thankfully no bullets came through the windscreen or any where else.

The Thai word for stop/halt is "yut" (my translation) and about a dozen shouted "yuts" and John and I rapidly exiting the vehicle with our hands up and showing the soldier our SP brassards, allayed the fear that was evident in the soldier's eyes and saved us from being a statistic of friendly fire. A sphincter constricting, heart thumping, sweat raising episode I can tell you and the knowledge that some of the local soldiers were very trigger happy, added to our anxiety. We didn’t locate anybody of interest and the Thai soldier made us understand that he had heard shots too. This goes part way to understanding his attitude to an onrushing vehicle of unknown origin until it was properly identified as were its occupants, John and I. Radio communication with Thai personnel was very difficult due to language barriers. Our radio communications systems were linked into the USAF system. I have episodic memories of this incident and am now uncomfortable around weapons or weapon related matters.

At the northern end of the runway was a lookout post for communist North Vietnamese sympathisers and from time to time they took random shots at departing aircraft with ancient small-bore rifles. The joke at the time was to leave them there as we knew where they were and that they hadn't hit anything yet. It was quite odd to see these sympathisers, men, women and children, walking to their post and more or less changing shifts all carrying their rice, fish and tea. For all intents and purposes it looked like everyday villagers going about their business as there was no way of distinguishing NVA sympathisers with that of the local population. It was rumoured at the time that the helicopter incidents were associated with the communist sympathisers being transported to Laos for guerrilla and insurgency training.

There was a North Vietnamese organisation in the heart of the Ubon Township which flew the NVA flag. I suppose it was better this way, a least you knew where they were. It was further reported that there were hostile NVA sympathisers in a village compound called "Coconut Grove" which was naturally out of bounds. It did however have several brothels in the compound which did attract servicemen and required our constant patrols. One night John and I visited the compound on our patrols and we came across four US servicemen who were some of the biggest men I have ever seen. They would have made a magnificent front row and if they called up two more of their size would have made a formidable pack for the Australian XV. John and I were 5'9'' and 5'11'' respectively. The four men were coming from the area of the brothels and each had an armful of alcohol in bottles. As an aside, we created a bit of stir in the compound because, one, we represented authority, and two, we were taking customers away from their business and thus depriving them of an income, so it was damned if you do and damned if you don’t. The local occupants of the compound were openly hostile towards us Thank god the four airmen came

of 21 peaceably and we were able to move away quickly. To put this in context; when we picked up our own personnel who had freely imbibed we would take them back to the Base guard room, take any alcohol from them and record the seizure in the Service Police daily occurrence book. The alcohol was later returned to the owner or destroyed. In the case of the Americans, if US patrols had picked them up in an out of bounds area, their alcohol would be confiscated and they would be charged and receive a guard room sentence, usually imprisonment and demotion. We took the four men to the vicinity of check point Charlie, the US Main Gate and told them to get out of the vehicle. (There was a unilateral agreement between Australian/American authorities that if people/servicemen were found in an out of bounds areas they were to immediately surrender their identity cards to the person of whose custody they were in). The Americans complied with this order without hesitation.

The Australians, our troops, were a different story. They would fight, argue with you and after a while see reason and come peaceably. Typically, Australians by their very nature are people that are difficult to herd and our troops were no exception to this mentality. We had an excellent rapport with the troops and wiser heads always prevailed and any offenders would be ‘given a speech’ by their SNCOS about offending or re-offending. Our aim was to protect the airmen from getting themselves into any hot water and get them back to base with a minimum of fuss. Most of the airmen understood what we were about and complied with our requests. Back to the four US airmen. We handed back their ID cards much to their relief as they thought we would have taken them to their guard room, Check Point Charlie, with the associated dire consequences. They did not want the remainder of their alcohol (hooch) in the rear of the vehicle. The alcohol was logged in the occurrence book at our main gate and was at a later date taken to a BBQ with the American Air Police for all to enjoy. (Almost an admission of graft and corruption) The BBQ's were always held at midnight and were always well attended. The thinking behind the midnight barbecues was that those finishing patrols could attend, and those about to go on patrol would have a feed. There was always plenty of American beer and spirits at these soirees. Sleep was irrelevant as the four hourly F4 sorties ensured that you were wide awake. Whether it was good or bad, word got out to the Americans that if they got picked up by Australian patrols, go peaceably and you will get a fair shake. The same applied for our troops. This rumour is neither confirmed nor denied.

Our accommodation was a corrugated iron clad structure with a wooden floor, and sitting on wooden stumps about a metre off the ground. The hut was airy, very hot and very noisy, particularly when monsoon rains hit. The hut, divided in the middle, housed me, John and Terry. We made ourselves as comfortable as possible by lining our hut with polystyrene rocket and bomb casings got from the Americans. The polystyrene acted as insulation. One mans trash …another mans treasure etc. Our bed space was covered with mosquito netting and we each had individual fans at the foot of our beds. The netting also stopped gecko lizards and spiders coming to bed with you. On many occasions there would be screams in the night when a gecko lizard would fall on unsuspecting airmen who had fallen asleep without their mosquito nets on. There were no glass windows only openings propped up by wooden poles which were lowered when the rain came in horizontally. At the other end of the hut were housed ground crew. Our particular hut was the last of a row of four huts. Alongside our hut was an 8 foot high, 16 strand barbed wire fence. The barbed wire was strung between concrete posts situated about 12 feet apart and went all the way around a compound which was utilised by the USAF and called the POL compound. In the compound could be found all manner of things, damaged aircraft, fuel pods, petrol, oils, lubricants and just to make the compound more exciting, there were drums of napalm stored there. One well placed mortar would have sent our whole base to that big RAAF base in the sky along with its dashing airmen. During my time in Ubon, there were no mortar attacks but I’m led to believe that an attempt had been made and thwarted prior to my posting to Ubon.

One night however, I had just finished my last patrol for the night at about 0200 hours. I was in the shower block having a shower when I heard a USAF, FAC aircraft taking off (a Cessna push me/pull me, with one engine at front and one at the back of the aircraft - we were based no more

of 21 than 300 metres from the runway). The FAC aircraft's engine’s sound seemed to falter and then start up again, falter again, restart and then I heard a solid thump followed by silence which was immediately broken by the sound of three SLR shots. The shots had been fired by Tassie Walker, ADG, who was on guard duty at the back gate. Still lathered up, I pulled on my underwear and ran to the back gate some 100 metres away. I saw that a FAC aircraft had hit one of the concrete posts to the POL compound. This was some 70 yards from the left hand side of the airstrip. The impact forced the front engine backwards and the rear engine forwards. I observed no life signs in the crew. Both engines had concertinaed and crushed the crew resulting in their deaths. I saw that it was impossible to extricate the crew without help. Added to this a fire had broken out in the rear of the aircraft making the situation more dangerous.

As there was nothing I could do for the poor souls I then ran to the Fire Crew hut and woke them and told them about the aircraft accident. To their credit, and with a minimum of fuss, they arrived with their fire tender to the accident scene and doused the burning aircraft with foam, extinguishing the flames. They also played foam over phosphorous incendiaries that had become dislodged from the aircraft and had ignited in and around the POL compound. The fire crew continued to play foam over the accident area and well into the POL Compound and had done an excellent job in such a short time. As always, there is more to the story. Following the good job by our fire crew, we then witnessed the ‘charge of the light brigade’. A US fire tender, the heavy duty type, came charging across the air strip with all lights blazing and sirens sounding and promptly became bogged about 60 metres from the accident site. The tender was closely followed by a US Huey helicopter with floodlights on and which then hovered above the crash site affording more light. The spot lights on the RAAF tender was supplying sufficient light to the scene. The effect of the helicopter hovering above the site was that the downward thrust of air dispersed the foam laid out by our fire crew and as there were puddles of water in and around the aircraft, the phosphorous incendiaries ignited again causing more unwanted concern for our fire crew. The helicopter was politely told to "fuck off" which it promptly did. It was unfortunate that the airmen died. They did not survive the initial impact. There was sombre mood about the airbase confines for the next few weeks and it was a reminder that the job was not all beer and skittles. Though the airmen were not Australians we felt for them as we all belonged to the same brotherhood of men under arms. The image of those airmen has remained with me after all these years.

When time allowed the RAAF SP's and ADG's along with the base welder, base plumber and other volunteers would carry out civil aid at a village near the Laotian border, this included rebuilding a school which was very much appreciated by the villagers. The visits to the village also included a game of soccer with the locals, much to everyone's delight. It was also a flag waving exercise which we didn't mind doing as the village was an isolated one right on the border with Laos. An unusual aspect of the village was a bitumen road, a novelty for the region, that ran through the village into Laos where there was a lot of action going on, but that's another story. The border with Laos was about a kilometre away and was delineated by a boom gate across the road with a sign telling you that you were about to enter Laos. No explanation was forthcoming from the villagers about the road. And we never pursued the matter.

On one trip by vehicle (Willeys 4WD) to the village we came across a 14 foot cobra snake sunning itself across the road. It was a beautiful creature and it did flare its hood before disappearing into the long grass. We waved it goodbye from the safety of the vehicle. Its funny how snakes, by their very being, cause the heart to flutter and the sphincter to constrict and let me tell you the 12 of us were no exceptions to these emotions. On the matter of snakes and I must admit, I only saw two of them, kraits, supposedly one of the more poisonous species of them all. Apart from that poison aspect, the snakes never grow more than 18" long and can secrete themselves in very small nooks and crannies and apart from their poison they are hard to see because of their small size. The upside, if there is an upside, is that you would have to be bitten in the web of your hand or similar, some thing I don't care to find out about.

of 21 We did see a lot of working elephants in the village of Surin across the Mun River from the Ubon Township. The Mun River eventually flowed into the Mekong River. These magnificent elephants could be seen daily along the highway, up to ten in line astern, with their mahouts. These creatures were of a gentle nature and were happy among people. They were quite hilarious when playing soccer with a huge beach ball at an ‘elephant's day out’ held in Surin which I believe is still held annually.

As luck would have it, SBS TV recently screened "The Plight of the Elephants" in Thailand and in particular those elephants in rural Thailand. It greatly saddens me to see these magnificent beasts being subjected to cruelty, injured by land mines near the Laotian boarder and often being transported to Bangkok to assist in the begging of alms by their Mahouts. The elephants have also been involved in accidents with motor vehicles resulting in mutilation, amputations or death to both animals and humans. They are also being deprived of their natural environment by being shackled, caged and strictly contained. The irony of this is the fact that the animals are venerated and held in high esteem in Thailand's religion. In fact Thai People worship an elephant God. The use of elephants for work is slowly being eliminated resulting in their handlers (mahouts), seeking alms further afield from their villages and removing the elephants from their natural environment. I hope that the Thai government is smart enough to save these beautiful beasts from further harm and loss of environment. I still treasure a wooden carved elephant that I purchased in Ubon.

Another civil aid program was the construction of a 4 metre mesh fence around St Joseph's Orphanage and School on the outskirts of Ubon. All manner of RAAF personnel headed by the Base Carpenter and Base Welder contributed to the building of the fence. The Nuns from the Order of St Joseph's did a wonderful job considering their conditions. They looked after their orphan charges and maintained a magnificent chapel in the orphanage grounds. The Orphanage was surrounded by brothels and on several occasions the working ladies of those brothels would put all their wares on show which was quite hilarious. They paraded around naked touting for business and it wasn't until they were chased away by the working party that construction of the fence continued. In two sentences we have gone from the sinless to the sinners. I think the nuns had a private giggle at these happenings. The fencing was completed just before the RAAF Base disbanded in late August 1968. As a result of the disbandment, the orphanage received a double door refrigerator donated by the RAAF Sgt’s mess and a large quantity of medical supplies from medical section and other sundry items for which they were most grateful. I am unsure if the orphanage is still there today but one would hope that if it is, it is receiving assistance from the Thai government and the church.

One of the highlights of the Airmen's Club, which at the time was the hub of our universe, was the mismanagement of the NAAFI stocks of Beer and Spirits by the then bar manager, a local Thai national. Over a period of time, years in fact, the manager had been stockpiling cartons of beer, wine and spirits at his residence some 2 kilometres away from the base. These items were the property of NAAFI and the bar manager had redirected the stock to his residence unbeknown to Base Authorities. Once the CO, WGCDR Knudsen (later GPCAPT) had been appraised of the situation, he ordered that the items be retrieved poste haste. Two five ton trucks were dispatched to the address and were duly loaded by eager hands. There were some fine wines and good spirits held at the address, which were also retrieved. The beer, ‘Tiger’, came in steel cans and which some had begun to rust due to the length of time they had been stored. There was no ‘use by date’ in 1968. The manager of the NAAFI was dismissed immediately and arrested by local police. I don't know what happened to him after his arrest. The items were retrieved in the failing twilight and conveyed back to base where the sound of cans being pierced took over from the local cicadas. Word spread quickly when free beer was on offer. The Airmen's Committee, bless their souls, agreed that several dozen cartons were to be "put over the bar" for all and sundry. All ice from the Officer’s and Sergeant’s mess was commandeered and they were also made welcome and a great night was had by all with some sore heads the following day. Prior to the festivities, WGCDR Knudsen, accompanied by myself visited the local Governor to apprise him

of 21 of the events. It was more or less a diplomatic gesture and I am still sure after all these years that the Governor was looking for a backhander. None was forthcoming. The meeting with the Governor ended amicably and the matter was closed. The Airmen’s Club should have been dubbed the All Ranks Club as we always had Officers and SNCOs visiting us and they were made most welcome by the ORs.

With a new manager The Airmen's Club ran efficiently and the turnaround of 79 Sqn personnel kept the club life very active. On Saturday afternoons usually about midday, Radio Australia would broadcast the match of the day (VFL) from Melbourne interspersed with Sydney and Melbourne races. Now the statute of limitations is well and truly over and there was a rumour of a ‘book’ being held for the races, which was never found. One of the characters was a "Sharpie" named Dogger Barker, a rabid Geelong supporter much to the chagrin of the Collingwood and other VFL supporters. As luck would have it Geelong got most of the airtime which pleased "Dogger" no end. He would always be decked out with his Geelong beanie and scarf regardless of the hot and humid tropical weather and always with a tin of Tiger beer in his hand. However Dogger prevailed and it was a sad sight to see Dogger when Geelong lost, which was often. Sometimes on a Sunday afternoon the Airmen’s Club Committee would hire a band and invite the whole base to the recreational area adjacent to the club. The afternoon, an all male affair, was designed as a type of talent quest and to let off steam. It was quite surprising the amount of talent in our unit. We had piano players, Slim Dusty sound alikes, good voices, bad voices and some that couldn’t sing. Bush poetry, good looks, bad looks, recitations and we even had a violin player. This coupled with plenty of imbibing made for a wonderful afternoon. Not one to let a chance go by I assailed the gathered throng with my rendition of ‘my sister Belinda’ which went like this:- My sister Belinda, she pissed out the window, all over my new sombrero, now I have nothing to wearo, not even my new sombrero, Ay Yi Yi Yi, Ay yi yi yaiyow . That was my contribution to the afternoon and the start and finish of my singing career.

Another character was Smokey Dawson and his Thai wife "Pon". Smokey was a Barracks carpenter who had about four extensions of this tour of Ubon. Smokey was a sentimentalist who loved his country and when Barry Crocker, Cook, played his guitar and sang the old standard "Old Shep" Smokey would start crying and became a mumbling wreck. The song would usually be sung in the wee small hours of the morning after a good night on the ‘agent amber’ (beer). The beer, Tiger, came in steel cans and had to be ice cold to make it palatable. Another of the characters was a chap called Oggy, a RADTECH from Tasmania. We were always getting Oggy out of some dilemma or another and always after he had over imbibed. At work he was the epitome of a diligent airman but after hours he would get hopelessly drunk and chase bats and geckos. That wasn’t so bad but he would scale walls and tall fences to get to the creatures and for no other reason than to have fun. He was harmless but a danger to himself. I never saw Oggy again throughout my career but I met up with him at a 79 Squadron reunion years later in Sydney in 1999 and he turned out to be an excellent citizen. He doesn’t chase bats or geckos anymore.

The following is a story related to me about Barry Crocker the Cook. Barry was being transported by a samloh driver past the front gate of the base. (A samloh was three wheeled bicycle, with rider at front pulling a two seat canopy covered framework) When told to stop by the ADG guards at the Main Gate, one morning about 0230 hours, the samloh driver ignored the calls to stop and kept going down the road. Crocker by the way was fast asleep. Ray Janetski, another SP chased after the samloh and thrust his four cell battery torch into the rear spoked wheel of the samloh vehicle. The sum effect of this action was to cause the samloh to stop abruptly catapulting the driver over the handle bars and catapulting Crocker over the handle bars and the driver. Crocker, (for those who don't know him stood about 6'2", was of heavy build, had a very gruff voice and a heart of gold) being rudely awakened by the accident let go with language that would have made Banjo Paterson and Henry Lawson very proud. This coupled with a loss of skin and shock made Crocker one unhappy chappie. A few bandages and a liberal dose of mercurochrome had him back to his usual self within a couple of days. There were many incidents where our troops came into conflict with the samloh drivers mainly over arguments or short

of 21 changing on agreed fares or the non payment of fares by the hirer. To give the samlohs drivers their due, they would rather back away from the fight/argument than to try and recover their fare from sometimes abusive, belligerent and intoxicated airmen. But every dog has his day. From time to time you would see some of our airmen with black eyes, bruises, the odd injured arm or swathed in bandages, the result of being set upon by a group of samloh drivers. The samloh driver who missed out on his fare would tell his fellow samloh drivers who the offender was and when the opportunity arose, they would set upon the unsuspecting airman and summarily deal with him out of sight and usually late at night. The unsuspecting offender was at a loss as to why he had been set upon. After several similar incidents the penny dropped as did the incidents of assaults.

One other incident that was comical though could have been serious was one afternoon when our patrol was called to an area called the "A frame" which was an out of bounds area. This time it was for a very different reason. A Pilatus Porter aircraft of Air America (read CIA) had an engine malfunction which caused the engine to stall. Not being conversant with the patterns of flight I understood that the Pilatus Porter aircraft could glide for some time without propulsion. In this case this is what happened and the aircraft actually glided onto a grove of coconut trees much to the relief of the locals and the crew. The effect of this (landing on the tree tops) was that the port wing dipped towards the foliage of the trees and became imbedded in between two coconut trees which stopped the aircraft from falling to the ground some 6 metres below. This action saved the pilots who were shaken and bruised and thankful that the trees had saved their lives. The crew appeared very embarrassed and were quickly whisked away by the American authorities. The aircraft was later retrieved by a giant crane.

During My time in Ubon we had three occasions when we were placed on Red Alert. Red Alert was top priority when unidentified aircraft or suspicious activity was notified to base authorities. The alert required all RAAF personnel to be confined to base, to be armed and to make their way to the sand bagged bunkers on the base. After roll call there was invariably people missing and who were probably in the township particularly at night. Armed SPs were required to then locate these people and return them to base for their own safety. The person mentioned here became a life long friend of the writer. As a result of attending the ‘A Frame’ an out of bounds area, an airman was noticed adjacent to the area, in the headlights of the patrol vehicle. The airman, a SNCO Airframe Fitter, later WOFF, who appeared affected by alcohol was wondering where his squadron buddies were. He blanched when told of the current red alert situation He was put in the back of the vehicle and transported back to the RAAF base via Check Point Charlie, the USAF check point and spirited through the back gate to the Sergeant’s Mess. The SNCO, Neil Chappell, always told the story, when in company, that I saved his life whilst a Red Alert was on in Ubon in 1968 by not revealing his presence in the vehicle when we drove through the back gate. Unfortunately Neil passed away in August 2004, aged 65. Neil did not realize that he was about the twelfth airman we retrieved for the night on that particular Red Alert. Anyway, by the time we got back to base, the alert had been downgraded and we had 100% roll call.

The township of Ubon had many and varied businesses, nightclubs, and places of entertainment. Duty free shops, camera shops, clothing stores, tailors, etc, was some of the more common businesses offering their wares to the servicemen stationed in Ubon. At the time we were receiving 27 Baht to the Australian dollar and we converted our money prior to leaving base. The US servicemen however didn't bother to covert their US dollars when making purchases or paying for services. This of course created three tiers of commerce, local, Australian and US. Ironically the same exchange rate was still in place in 2003. It seems the Thai economy has not been very buoyant over the intervening years from when I was last there. A camera shop owned by one, Johnny Ubol, was the mecca for servicemen purchasing cameras, film and photographic supplies. In this shop was to be found all manner of photos. As an aside, when new arrivals to Ubon were briefed about the local area, the base, and the US base, they were shown photographs of the various types of aircraft that we would see during our tour of Ubon and the types of armament carried by each aircraft. Photos showed the colour codes used on the various bombs/rockets etc.

of 21 Some of the bombs were cluster bombs and we were told that these bombs were classified (remember this was 1968) and should these bombs become unstable for any reason they should not be approached under any circumstance. Photographs of the bombs were on display in photo albums throughout Johnny Ubol’s store, along with photos of other classified bombs/rocket. Our section was made aware that operatives of Air America were very aware of this and other matters and took more than a passing interest in Johnny Ubol's store and activities. He was a big trader in "Green" (US dollars) and was the gregarious ‘hail fellow well met’ type who always welcomed you into his store with a bottle of Pepsi. You always received a ‘good deal’ at Johnnys’. I learned much later the Johnny Ubol met his demise at the hands of the local traders but his demise, though investigated, did not reveal the identities of persons concerned.

The arrival of the fortnightly ‘freedom flight’ (C130) from Australia, so dubbed, as it was our only contact with the real world, was always keenly awaited and anticipated particularly as it brought mail from home. (The C130 arrived in Ubon via Butterworth bringing with it the turnaround squadron crews from Butterworth). Letter writing was almost an art form back in 1968 and it was the only method of communicating with loved ones and friends. Anybody sending mail to you would have to have it in by a certain date of the month to ensure that it made the aircraft to Ubon. There were no mobile phones/internet back then Failure to make the date resulted in no news from home for a month and it was an agonising wait with even more pain if there was a mail strike. I experienced a similar delay in correspondence from home and in a letter dated one month previously I was informed that my wife’s grandfather, a real gentleman, had died. Apart from the sadness of the event I couldn’t just pick up a telephone to ring home. That was frustrating. So letter writing was an important part of your life in Ubon.

John Paton, my offsider, through his contacts in Australia, would have a large bottle of Bundaberg Rum sent to him every fortnight on the ‘freedom flight’ which he shared with Slim Shanahan and me. Every time I see the Bundaberg Rum ad, particularly when the Wallabies are playing, reminds me of the laughs and times we had around that bottle of Bundaberg Rum. One of the by-products of the rum was that it seeped from your skin for the next couple of days particularly when we sweated, which was most of the time and gave off an unpleasant odour.

The once a fortnight ‘freedom flight’ also brought fresh fruit and vegetables from Australia which delighted the cooks and ourselves with the fare that the cooks would prepare for the troops. There was nothing better than to see the "big bird" with the red kangaroo in the roundel, landing at Ubon which apart from victuals also brought newspapers and magazines from Australia. These items were eagerly sought and read and then passed on. I did most of my letter writing after I finished my night patrols. Apart from the Airmen’s Club, the next most popular section was the Base Post Office which was continually bombarded for letters from home.

The base authorities made sure that organised sport was high on the base agenda for the troops. Softball, tennis, and two sports that had the Americans stumped, cricket and rugby league. They couldn't understand how a batsman could hit a ball and not run or then hit a ball to the boundary and still not run and be awarded four runs. If cricket had them flummoxed rugby league had them really stumped. They couldn't understand how the game could be played without protective gear. We had some pretty rugged games of rugby league, particularly between the Queenslanders and New South Welshmen, no quarter asked and none given. I played in one game for the Welshman and was picked as a winger as I had a turn of speed back then and in my eagerness to impress, I always got pinged for running ahead of the line creating an off-side or passing the ball forward. I was an Aussie Rules player just trying his hand at the game of rugby. I loved it particularly the biffo and the tackling but all in good spirit. There were no Aussie rules unfortunately. That game would have really put the cat among the pigeons for the Yanks. Water polo was also popular with all ranks and it was played vigorously as I can attest to as I was poked in the eye by the then CO in a game of Airmen v Officers water polo game. I had to stay in sick bay for a couple of days to let the eye settle.

of 21 A group of AirField Defence Guards (ADGs) undertook training in Tae Kwan Do and fancied themselves in the ring. They decided to take on the locals at kickboxing and the bouts were promoted for all and sundry with posters being placed around the town promoting the fights. Our blokes did okay with close in-fighting, often landing hefty punches to the heads of their smaller opponents but lacked the flexibility to raise their legs to hit their more agile opponents. Out of 7 fights we managed one draw, cuts and lacerations to face, ears and bruising to shoulders, neck and kidney area and a few crushed egos that became the butt of jokes from the rest of the camp. The fights were held in a bamboo clad arena about 60 ft in diameter which was hot, dusty and smoke filled from local Thai cigarettes which had a pungent and acrid smell to them laced with a lingering sweetly odour. There is no doubt that material other than tobacco was being smoked there that night. The same arena was where well patronised cock-fights were held and they were cruel sight to behold. As an aside, the ADGs never went back to the ring after that fight night.

Social events included a day at the local races. The jockeys were as tall as their horses which were fully grown but with the appearance of small ponies. Even with the lightweight jockeys, these poor beasts struggled with the weight on their backs. It was a fun day with lots of money changing hands but we were at a disadvantage not knowing who the jockeys were or what form the horses were in. I imagine that the beasts were village horses more akin to pulling carts for the local farmer who saw the opportunity to make some extra baht by racing their small horses. Another pastime was the hiring of a large river boat whose canopy was covered in scrap metal affording those below some shade from the at times broiling sun. It wasn’t the Manly Ferry, but in the circumstances ‘as good as’. The metal canopy served as a platform for all our eskies and barbecues which we lugged on board. Standing on the canopy required footwear as it became very hot underfoot and in those trips hats were rarely ever worn as the dress of day was shorts, thongs and if you cared for your skin, singlets. The trip down the Mun River usually took about 2 hours and about a 3 hour return up river to Ubon. We would stop along the way at riverside hamlets and small villages to do some sightseeing and to defuel (urinate). The return journey had no defuel stops as this was done over the stern of the boat. You were afforded some privacy by hessian covered framework if wanted to use your bowels. The result of your bowel movement was directed into the river. The down river leg stopped at a landing about 100 yards from where the river cascaded onto some large rocks about 20 feet below. You could climb onto the rocks and be massaged by the onrushing water which was very therapeutic. On one trip, Ken Vidler, ADG, a Queenslander, and a man mountain, decided to ski behind the boat on a polystyrene rocket cover packaging. He was played out on a long rope but could not stand up on his psuedo ski as the boat couldn’t reach speeds fast enough to pull him out of the water. After a short while the polystyrene packaging snapped under his weight causing Ken to be dragged through the water until he was roped in. The water at this stage was the colour of ‘Yarra algae’. The upshot of his attempt of water skiing resulted in Ken being hospitalised for about a week with a severe ear infection. Ken was to go on and re-muster as a Door Gunner and completed a tour of duty in Vietnam with 9 Sqn. Unfortunately Ken was killed in an RAAF helicopter training accident in North Queensland a few years after his return from Vietnam. Vale Ken.

The movie nights (free) were a popular feature of life on the base. The theatre was an open sided affair, with corrugated iron roof and canvas deck chairs and the Cinema Operator was known as ‘Metro’. I think all cinema operators adopted a civilian theatre name as a nick-name. There were three movie nights, Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays. Sunday nights were particularly well patronised because of the working day the next day. There were the usual 4 x 2 pairs of F4's taking off before the movie started and then relative quiet for the next 3½ hours before the next sorties were carried out allowing time enough to enjoy the movie. Some Americans found out about the free movies and there was always a couple of Yanks attending the movies and they always got an earful, particularly when the F4's were taking off. I must say that the Americans were very generous to our troops inviting them to all their base facilities which included a bowling alley, theatre, club and messes. A few of their airmen would come and dine in the airmen's mess just to watch us eat using knives and forks. They couldn't get used to us using two implements to eat as they would cut up all their meal and just eat with their fork. One evening at a USAF

of 21 Airmen’s Club, I was introduced to an American Airmen who in civilian life was an accountant. He had volunteered to enlist in the USAF but as they had no need of accountants, they trained him as a cook. He had joined the USAF to avoid being drafted into the US Army thus avoiding Vietnam, a chance he had to take. He had to give a return of service which I think was four years and then by hook or by crook he was taking his discharge. He was of Italian parentage and when I told him that I was also of Italian parentage, he wouldn’t believe me until I showed him my ID card. He was of the impression that all Italians who migrated from Italy went to America and nowhere else. No wonder they made him a cook. He was great company though.

We Australians were somewhat of a novelty to the Americans particularly with our accents, language and attitude. I always had an impression, when in company with the Americans, that they were the ‘big brother’ and they would look after you no matter what. Relations at one stage became a bit strained when somebody stole The US Commanding Officer’s Pennant from his flagpole. The CO, a Colonel, was quietly outraged and the finger of suspicion was pointed to the Australians. It was a tense stand-off as somebody had also stolen our unofficial ‘battle ensign’, a disused fuel pod with a red kangaroo mounted on top displaying the words’ Kangaroo Valley’, from outside the Airmen’s Club. The finger of suspicion pointed to the Americans. With more intrigue that could be mustered by the CIA, FBI and CIB, the missing items mysteriously re-appeared and relations thawed almost immediately

When we were lazing by the pool, which was no bigger than a large spa, we would see the vapour trails of the US B52's flying overhead from their base in Northern Thailand on the bombing runs over targets in North Vietnam. There was an instance where an unidentified aircraft appeared on the US radar screen. As we were the only people allowed to go armed in country, two Sabre aircraft were scrambled from the operational ready platform (ORP). The poor old Sabres were struggling to reach the aircraft when a US F4 cruised past them indicating that he would look over the aircraft. As it turned out the unidentified aircraft was a US Marine F4 heading back after a bombing run in North Vietnam. Flying in the region, and a great help to our pilots and the US pilots, was a wonderful landmark to take bearings from in the form of a statue of a Golden Buddha that towered above the jungle canopy and could be seen in all types of weather. The Golden Buddha was about 70kms from the Ubon strip. I still have a carved replica of the Buddha with me.

We celebrated a unit public holiday on Anzac Day, 25 April 1968, with a unit parade followed by the traditional rum toddy and a day of games of chance. I celebrated my 25th birthday on 27 May 1968 with my fellow policemen, firemen, ADGs Cooks and some squadron personnel in Smokey Dawson and Pon's backyard with a barbeque and ice cold Tiger beer and the usual rendition of "Old Shep" by the virtuoso Barry Crocker, followed by tears from Smokey.

In my time at Ubon I think there was only one man charged for a misdemeanour. However, we did have a problem one night where an ADG went berserk with a fireman’s hatchet. He had received some disturbing news from home involving some domestic problems which were exacerbated by a large intake of alcohol. It took about 20 minutes to subdue him because of the hatchet. He was sedated and it wasn't long before he was posted home. Alcohol, particularly Mekong Whiskey, a wood/rice alcohol that took a litre of coca cola to a nip to make it palatable, was a problem. For some obscure reason it affected the vision and possibly the mental balance, of the imbiber resulting in him being hospitalised in a dark room for a couple of days. Those I spoke to affected by the whiskey said they had indescribable headaches and their vision was impaired by large spots before their eyes. I think that Mekong Whiskey was a "oncer" for most of our troops. You could never guarantee the quality or alcohol percentage or cleanliness in any batch of the whiskey.

Golf was another pastime that was to be enjoyed. In fact everybody's handicap was just about even. This came about by the ball boys/caddies who would find your lost ball and place it in a perfect lie for you. The only part of the game that put you under pressure was your putting as no help was offered by the caddies, there were no "gimmes:

of 21 On nights off duty I would visit one restaurant for meals and my favourite dish was beef and black bean sauce. I visited the restaurant about once a week. This lasted about four months into my tour until one night when I brought everything up which put me off my favourite dish for the rest of my tour. To this day I still draw the line at beef and black bean sauce.

A Thai Army Staff sergeant had been invited to the sergeants' mess by the CMC which resulted in an invitation for an evening meal to our sergeant, Sgt Ward, who invited Terry, John and I along with him. The Staff Sergeant lived in a kampong outside of Ubon. To be fair, the meal was excellent but the smell of animal and human faeces in the gardens was something we couldn't come to terms with. A by-product (pardon the pun) of this visit was the later continual demand by the Thai sergeant for bottles of scotch, he says for his colonel, to assist with his promotion prospects (the sergeants). We accommodated him on a couple of occasions but then he became a pain in the arse as he was continually calling or leaving messages for any of us to contact him. This lasted for four to six weeks after which we heard no more from him. It was and probably still is a way of life in that country. I hope he eventually got his promotion.

The only time during my tour that we were free of aircraft noise was for one weekend when the runway was being resurfaced. The resurfacing was done in 48 hours by a small army of Thai nationals who were like ants all over the strip. The silence over that weekend was strange because our minds and bodies were in tune to the four hourly sorties. The sorties had almost become a natural occurrence. However, by the Monday we were back on song with situation normal and the sorties back to their usual noisy sounds. The upshot of the sorties was disrupted sleep patterns and I'm sure that it has affected airmen who served at Ubon.

One day we were summoned to the back gate of the base as word had got out that a US F4 pilot from Ubon had downed a North Vietnamese Russian built MIG and was going to put on a show for all the troops at Ubon. He sure did. He flew down the strip did a barrel roll, then pulled back on the joy stick, and disappeared into the cloud cover. It was quite spectacular but it was over in a matter of seconds. The pilot was later showered with champagne and was feted as a hero by all.

Talking of matters aircraft and flying. It was the worst kept secret on our base that our pilots from time to time would hitch a ride in the F4’s and do a skitch over North Vietnam. They were easy to discern as they had the biggest grins on their faces that couldn’t be wiped away for days after their ‘forbidden flight’. One Officer, who was an excellent man-manager and who almost reached the ‘top of the tree’ with his career was another who didn’t stop grinning for days after tasting the same. Good luck to them. We had a visiting Defence Officer, a Flying Officer who was a real character, an ex-English Guardsman, straight backed, moustachioed, shining blue eyes and a deep bumbling Welsh voice. He was later to re-categorise to SDPOL and was my OIC at another posting. This Flying Officer would go to the end of the strip to a pre-arranged spot, hidden by the hump of the airstrip, climb aboard an FAC and fly over North Vietnam dropping phosphorous incendiaries over targets for the F4’s. He also was another one of those ‘grinners’.

Talking about rolling over, we had an MT driver who came from outback Queensland. He was a generous soul and most helpful at all times. Unfortunately one night he received a call at the airman's club where he was enjoying a few ales off duty. The caller said that he and his mates were stranded at Check Point Charlie and could he come and pick them up. Being the obliging type, he got the keys and drove a vehicle, a brand new Toyota people carrier type, (the vehicle was expressively used for transporting Duty Crew and Pilots to and from the (ORP) Operational Ready Platform, around the perimeter of the runway to check point Charlie where he picked up the merry bunch, about eight in all. Now between check point Charlie and the back gate of the RAAF base there is only one dirt road and one monsoon drain that ran parallel to the dirt road about 15 metres from the road. The only place the road bridged the monsoon drain was about 150 metres from the back gate. Our erstwhile driver, affected by alcohol, managed to negotiate the dirt road, but the crossing over of the monsoon drain was an Everest for him and sure enough the

of 21 vehicle was driven over the edge of the un-railed bridge and into the monsoon drain causing the vehicle to roll over and throwing the driver and passengers around in the vehicle. Fortunately, apart from a few bruised egos there was no serious injury. The damage to the vehicle was extensive and was ‘written off’. As a result of the accident, The Duty Crew and Pilots then had to be ferried in all types of vehicle as the Toyota was not replaced. The driver was charged and fined.

At dusk one afternoon a US C130 command ship returning from its platform over Vietnam had taken a hit to one of its engines and was having trouble with its other three engines and some of the crew had been injured as a result of the hit. All aircraft at Ubon base were towed to the revetment areas as a precaution for fear that the crippled aircraft may crash land and hit the aircraft parked on the ground. The whole airfield stood by with bated breath, all crash appliances were readied and in the fading light the crippled aircraft was spotted with its landing lights on, trailing black smoke. The aircraft was being escorted by two F4's which also had their landing lights on. Apart from the potential disaster point of view, the lights on the approaching aircraft were quite spectacular. The approach to the strip by the C130 was very unsteady and god smiled on the crew as the aircraft made a perfect landing and immediately shut down and was covered with foam saving a potential disaster. There was much relief all round but it was part of the day to day incidents that occurred around the air base. The injured crew were taken to the US Base Hospital where from all accounts they recovered from their injuries.

About 15 km from Surin there was a US firing range which also doubled as a detonating area for unsafe armament. It was not unusual for 500lb bombs to be detonated. This was about 25 km from Ubon but the effect of the blast could be heard quite readily and felt through the earth. I don't know how the locals felt about this. I suppose they were happy in the knowledge that it was friendly fire and not enemy fire. As mentioned earlier, the Americans were generous to a fault with our Australian Airmen. Weapons Continuation Training was also held at the firing range and the Americans would give us an Armalite weapon each and a large box of ammunition and say ‘go for it boys’. The weapon was a magnificent bit of equipment especially compared to our SLRs and FN 9mm pistols. The Armalite rifle was light, easy to load and fire and afforded a great deal of accuracy even on automatic. We thanked the Americans for the use of their weapons and as there was no way we could reciprocate, we invited them to our club for a beer which they readily accepted.

Each hut, divided in two, was supplied with locally employed civilians. These houseboys would do the cleaning of the huts and do the washing and ironing of your uniforms, a great asset to have in the tropics particularly as sweating was a constant. I did from time to time wonder to myself that these hut boys could possibly be communist sympathisers though I did not have any evidence to support my thoughts.

All our anti-vice patrols were carried out in the hours of darkness, usually starting at 2030 and finishing at about 0230 the following morning. To give ourselves a break from the sometimes tedious visiting of brothels, and strip parlours etc, we would invite off-duty ground crew to accompany one of the SPs on patrols. This allowed the other two SPs a good break but they were always on standby in the event of any untoward occurrence. There was never any shortage of willing ground crew volunteering their services for a patrol. It was good break for us SPs and an education and novelty for the ground crews as Anti-vice Patrols and personnel security made up 90% of our tasking. Some of the crew would have some fascinating stories to tell their mates about the patrols which would be like a recruiting poster for us and ensure that there was a ready supply of volunteers. The music in the clubs was pre-disco music that had the same repetitive deep bass rhythm. The thumping of the bass guitar could be felt about 150 ft from the club's doorways and anything over 20 minutes of the music would drive me batty. The same music was identical at each club we visited. It was good to get back to the base to have 10 minutes of sortie deployment then absolute silence to snatch some deep sleep which was very welcomed. My music

of 21 of choice at the time was the Beatles LP ‘Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Heart Club Band and I do still enjoy it today as it invokes memories of my tour of Ubon.

Directly opposite the main gate was a laneway that joined a back road into the township of Ubon. About halfway down the laneway was a brothel. Part of our duties was to visit brothels to carry out VD checks and ensure that our true and tried trusted airmen were not visiting such places. On one patrol with John Paton, and I hasten to add it was about my third or fourth patrol and I was a smoker at the time of this visit entered the brothel to carry out the checks. We chatted to the ladies for a few minutes, checked their medical cards and being diplomatic I offered the ladies a cigarette, asking them if they wanted a "smoke". Their refusal was quite strident and it wasn't until we left the premises that I understood why they refused the "smoke". John apprised me that by offering the "smoke" I was in fact asking for oral sex. Language has a strange way of being interpreted. I didn't offer a ‘smoke’ again.

A by-product of the unit closing down was that all unit and unit medical documents went missing but with the freedom of information some copy of unit documents have been revealed. No records of medical documents were ever found. An example of this, my medical documents reveals my posting to Ubon and my return from Ubon but no evidence of my time at Ubon.

On one occasion I recall having to pick up some British soldiers from the airport terminal. These soldiers looked like they had been living in the boondocks and had had little or no contact with friendly forces for some time. They were a sullen lot, probably justified, and not very talkative. I'm aware that they had a clean up, had a good feed, and spent a night in town and then disappeared as quickly as they had arrived a couple of days earlier. No one "talked up" the brief visit by these soldiers, no questions were asked and no one was hurt. A good result all round. The old military adage "the need to know" certainly held true. We heard that there was a French unit out in the boondocks. This did not surprise us, though we never saw any of them. I was aware that there were French and British consuls in Ubon at the time. We were made aware that there was some very hot action going on in Laos and all manner of people were engaged in the action. The action in Laos was never made public at the time and even at this late stage there has never been any official acknowledgement of a war in Laos at the same time we were in Thailand and Vietnam was in full swing. A large section of the Ho Chi Minh trail was located well inside the Laotian border and was of great concern to the US and Australian troops in Vietnam, particularly as it was used as a supply line for the NVA. An interesting book by Christopher Robbins, titled The Ravens (Pilots of the Secret War of Laos) gives an account of US pilots conducting various missions in Laos at the time of the conflict in Vietnam and is an excellent read.

Every fortnight from March to September 1968 there was a posting out party held at the Ubon Railway Station when airmen were being posted back to Australia via Bangkok where they caught a Civil flight after spending two days R&R in Bangkok. We did have some airmen whose stay in Bangkok was prolonged when they discovered they had VD before boarding civil air for Australia. RAAF Movements Control would then arrange for them to be treated and once cleared they were then allowed to continue onto Australia. Sometimes the stay was up to a month and it did cause some problems particularly when the airmen had advised his wife, girlfriend or family of his return to Australia only to arrive much later. Please explain. It was a requirement on arrival back in Australia for any airmen who had served overseas to undergo a full medical and provide specimens before a medical clearance was given. Given that the unit’s medical documents were either lost/destroyed, no record of the medical condition/treatment were revealed unless the airmen volunteered the information.

On one occasion we had a royal visit from the King and Queen of Thailand, King Bhumibol and his lovely Queen, Queen Sirikit. I can't recall the purpose of the visit, however, ourselves (RAAF), and the USAF Air Police were asked to provide additional security at Check Point Charlie as the King and Queen had arrived by air from Bangkok and would be exiting the airfield for the Governor's residence. The King and Queen were very popular and there was a large number of the

of 21 local population in attendance and the crowd control was policed by the military and civil police. Just before the King and Queen were to drive from the airfield a scuffle broke out in the crowd and suddenly a local appeared from the crowd surrounded by military, civil and plain clothes police. It appeared that the authorities had located a handgun on the apprehended local. He was whisked away without any pomp or ceremony other than handcuffs and a cuff around the ears and head. Great work by the local authorities and an embarrassment saved for the Ubon people. The King and Queen continued on their tour without any further incident.

The locals had a parade to celebrate a local holiday and leading the parade was a banner declaring the "Sick Asian Games". The spelling meant to read "The Sixth Asian Games" which were to be held in Singapore sometime in 1968.

There are a lot more stories about Ubon that have been told but I don't think there has been any recorded history from individuals. Of course there are unit history sheets that would record significant matters relating to the unit’s day to day running. It would be good to get more stories from members who served in Ubon. Our original squadron members were housed in tents and their stories would be of great value for the squadron's history. I am aware that the site of our unit was chosen because of its proximity to a fresh potable water source. The water was in abundant supply and of a very high quality. The water also supplied the USAF base across the airstrip. The water was so good that it was used in emergency vehicles as a drinking water source without any purification required.

After we left the base I'm unaware of what became of the buildings. I hope that they were put to good use. I left the base on 28 August 1968 on the last flight out of Ubon in the good old Gooney Bird (Dakota) aircraft. The flight took about three hours with a refuel stop at Korat and then onto Butterworth, Malaysia, in perfect flying conditions. It was a bit sad in a way as the area surrounding our base, apart from the town was surrounded by rice paddies which looked absolutely beautiful from the air when the rice was about to be harvested. I believe that a former cinema operator (metro) visits and conducts tours to Ubon on a regular basis.

A strange phenomena occurred when the base was about to close down. For some inexplicable reason there was a rash of rushed marriages, mainly ADGs wanting to marry their newly found sweethearts. The amount of paperwork this caused was unbelievable. Department of Foreign Affairs became involved. Health checks, Immigration, Travel, immunisations, postings, background checks, both in Ubon and Bangkok, family separations, some marriages involved children not necessarily fathered by the intended groom. Marriages were, to coin an Americanism, ‘a dime a dozen’. I have seen some results of a few of these ‘rushed marriages’ back in Australia and I estimate that 25% have survived with the other 75% falling by the wayside. In some cases, cultural differences, the Australian way of life, no networking support, vast distances and infrequent contact with persons of similar background, have led to the demise of the marriages. One can only hope that any children from these unions have survived and are being supported.

We were often subjected to torrential rain which was a welcome change because it altered the temperature which was constantly hot and humid. Following any downpour the air was usually pristine and was refreshing to body and soul. It was nature’s way of cleansing the whole area where monsoon drains were flushed out only to be dirtied again awaiting the next downpour. As the huts were corrugated iron it was like living in a drum when it rained. Though noisy, it was pleasant. The lightning (Phar Lap, from where the famous racehorse got its name) was a different story. It was spectacular and you always lived in fear that you may be struck by a lightening bolt. Fortunately it didn't happen to anyone in my time there. The thunder was commensurate with the lightning, it was loud and continuous. The dreaded F4's still flew their sorties in good and bad weather alike, and the weather did not lessen the noise of their take-offs. The F4's also landed in

of 21 this type of weather which spoke volumes of both ground and air radar and of the aircraft itself and of the Pilots ability to fly them.

On more than one occasion after finishing patrols usually about 0200 hours I would go for a shower among the frogs, mosquitoes, snakes and geckos. In the shower block was also located the urinals and toilets. I would find from time to time airmen, usually asleep, who had over imbibed sitting on the toilet seats, and invariably vomited into the crutch of their underpants and trousers. My fellow SP and I would drag the airmen out, completely undress him and shower him and take him to his bed space and in the morning he would be none the wiser until told by his room mates later in the day. One airman was classified as a habitual drunk/felon who we retrieved on several occasions. It was all part of the daily routine at the base. Sometimes you could determine how long the airmen had been sitting on the throne by the amount of mosquito bites on his body.

Bites of another kind were afflicted upon ourselves particularly during day time patrols. There were certain jungle trees to be avoided as they housed the most ferocious of green ants, who apart from biting you, stuck to you and continued to bite. If it wasn't so serious it would be quite funny as you had to take all your clothes off and have your patrol mates pick the ants off you. Once done you would have to dab the ant bites with methylated spirits. If the ants happen to slip down your shirt to your nether regions you were in for a hard time. It’s quite amazing really how every part of your anatomy is connected to your tear ducts because when you got bitten in the nether regions it brought tears to your eyes.

Apart from the female ladies of the night, there was also "men of the night" called "katoys" - another name for male transsexuals some of which had undergone sex changes. For the uninitiated it was quite strange to be approached by a slim hipped, doe eyed attractive looking female who in most cases was a male. After a while you could determine who was who in the zoo when they spoke, usually from their balls or you watched their Adam's apple bouncing up and down, even those who had had a sex change. These katoys were quite funny, particularly when there was two or more of them. They would primp, prance, shashay and mince about trying to attract customers and if you got close enough, they would grab you by the ‘family jewels’. Some of our airmen, who were unaware or had never been confronted by the ‘flighty’ katoys, thought their luck had changed when they had been suggestively approached by what they thought was a good looking female and grabbed by the jewels. It was a hoot when the airmen went for the ‘grope’ and found that they were holding hairy testis and scrotums. This usually resulted in a torrent of abuse, surprise and perhaps, disgust by the airmen, leaving their mates rolling with laughter and some ‘baggage’ to tell their mates of what had occurred. I never saw any of our airmen approach the katoys though many an unsuspecting airmen were approached by them. The Katoys must have made a good living and I have no doubts they had plenty of customers as they were always immaculately dressed in the latest fashion and accessories and to a jaundiced eye, looked very attractive. Sometime in 1968, Queen Sirikit proclaimed that there were no prostitutes, promiscuity or diseases in Thailand. I suppose the ‘Rose Coloured Glasses’ syndrome applied here as the town’s VD clinic would have had different views on this at the time.

The day to day contact and relationship with the Thai people was a comfortable one though you never new who was for you or who was against you. Traders, without doubt, appreciated us being there as did those locally employed civilians who worked on the base. The Thai people were inclined to talk about their next life and had an attitude that to die was not considered a bad thing in fact it was a good thing as the afterlife was full of rose petals and heavenly goodness. It was strange as they had a fascination with death and on two occasions, whilst on patrol, we came across bodies in the street, which had either been involved in an accident or had been assaulted. The bodies were effectively ignored by the locals who knew that the bodies were going to be cared for in their afterlife. As we had no jurisdiction over the locals we protected the scene as a courtesy until the arrival of the local police.

of 21 There was one occasion where I was called a ‘phalang dong’ by a young kid as I was passing by the previously mentioned North Vietnamese Organisation in town. As with all languages, you always pick up the swear words or phrases quickly and I had been in Ubon long enough to know that ‘phalang’ meant a European or non Thai person and ‘dong’ was a most derogatory word akin to a person sleeping with pigs. When I retorted with ‘Thai dong’ the kid was floored and decamped immediately. I didn’t take any particular satisfaction with the verbal joust and I put it down to an isolated case even though when talking to traders they would use the word ‘dong’ when describing other traders. Business is business I guess.

As there were only 180 of us you got to know the majority of the troops and officers and you remember them all as young go-getters, steely eyed, 7 foot tall and bullet proof. Over the years I have bumped into quite a few of the Ubonites and they are not as young, not as tall, fading eyesight but still of the fabric that made them good men and I cherish them and the memories of Ubon and what we stood for.

There was no evidence of drug taking by our troops in my time in Ubon. That is not to say that some may have dabbled with them. The sickly sweet smell at the kickboxing fights suggests that the green leaf was available but none came to our notice at the base. As an aside, In 1971 I joined the Headquarters Provost Unit Drug Lecture Team after being attached to the WA Police Drug Squad for 3 months. It was about this time that drugs, certainly in Australia, started to become more widely used and the RAAF undertook a drug awareness program to alert its personnel of the pitfalls of drugs and the affect it may have on a person’s career. A Non Medical Use of Drug Policy was also implemented. Again this was another ‘forbidden fruit’ situation where those that may have been dabbling in drugs got to know what to look for and what effects it may have had on them and by devious means be able to mask their drug taking. But as I said earlier, there was no evidence at Ubon, certainly not amongst the Australians, in my time there.

Whilst outward appearances gave the impression that we were never under any real threat from foreign elements we were well aware of our duties and our environment even though life was at times pretty routine and humdrum. It was our pilots most at risk and one unique feature of the RAAF is that it sends its officers into battle whilst the troops remain in relative safety. From the day I first arrived in Ubon a rumour persisted that the base was going to close down. I thought to my self, here I am just married, needled up and they are sending me home and I’ve only just arrived. The base did close down six months after I arrived. Rumours were rife and there was always plenty of them and whether they were by design or accident they kept the troops guessing and on their toes.

It took the Australian Government 32 years to admit that Ubon was in fact declared a ‘warlike operation’ at the height of the Vietnam War in 1968. How this was finally determined I am unsure but those airmen serving from 1965 to 1968 have had their service recognised as war service and medals struck to recognise their service in Ubon. The real pioneers who built up the unit from 1962 to 1965 received no such benefits. Since coming back to the greatest place on earth, Australia, I have learned that some of the Ubon airmen are suffering the affects of Agent Orange. On making enquiries I find that the first group of airmen, circa February 1962, lived in tents on ground that was previously jungle and scrub. The Americans, already established on the western side of the strip, didn't believe in slash and burn so they used Agent Orange to clear the jungle and again to keep the jungle back. Evidence is now at hand proving that some of our airmen are, as a result of the spraying of Agent Orange, are seriously affected by the agent, the poor bastards. Department of Veterans Affairs is looking after them, thank God.

Finally, after arriving in Butterworth from Ubon in early September 1968, I spent three days on Penang Island, before flying by C130 to Richmond via Darwin. I later flew to Perth, civil air, arriving in Perth at about 2300 hours to be greeted by my wife, now of six months and extended family and friends.

of 21 I had many and varied postings following my tour of Ubon and enjoyed all of them. I completed 20 Years with the RAAF and during my time in the service I always considered that the Air Force and I were compatible.

After leaving the RAAF I was employed by Australia Post in their Security Section in Perth, my home town. I lasted there for six months as it was too public service for me and joined the WA Police Union as a Field Officer tending to the industrial issues of the WA Police. I left the Union after 11 years and joined Home Building Society as the Stores and Stationery Officer responsible for the security of loan contracts, printing requirements and stationery for 22 branches of the Society. Apart from the RAAF, this was the best job I ever had as I was my own boss, my own budget and a free hand for purchasing items for the Society. Unfortunately I had to leave after six good years as I had a lower back problem that required two lots of surgery.

Following surgery I was employed by the Department of Justice as an Usher to the Chief Judge Antoinette Kennedy of the District Court, the first female judge to be so appointed. This job is best described as a ’Man Friday’ to the Chief Judge. I looked after the Judge’s requirements from the Courtroom to her car and all matters in between. In fact it was Neil Chappell, mentioned earlier, who got me the job with the Chief Judge. I left the Department after 2 years as I required further surgery to my lower back. It was during the time that I was sitting in court that I penned most of these memories. There is no chronological sequence to these thoughts/memories. I have written them down as they came to mind.

Vic Carbone. October 2005

The following is a story of Ubon from Wally Hyrb, Armament Fitter that occurred in March 1963. “A flight of Royal Thai Air Force F86s’ were flying to the Phillipines on a friendly visit and of course had to stop at Ubon for a refuel etc and a visit to the ‘shiny floor’ perhaps. Anyway as soon as they all landed, the ever alert and hardworking ‘gunnies’ rushed over to the best painted and decorated aircraft to have a look at the aircraft’s firepower. But before we could pull the handle on the gun bay door, out stepped the immaculately dressed CO of the flight, a Colonel, shouting no, no, no, no touch. So we didn’t. However we did have a peek at another of the flight when he left”.

“About a week later the Thai flight was returning home and the local papers were full of praise and pictures of their achievements overseas. We were all having late breakfast as it was Sunday when someone yelled out look! look!, ‘No 4, no wheels down’. Forgetting the rest of our breakfast we all rushed out in case we were needed, when with a nice loud bang No 4 skidded off the runway. When we arrived at the aircraft to our surprise we saw the beautifully painted F86 with its drop tanks nicely wrapped around its leading edges and the immaculately dressed CO, sheepishly standing up looking at his damaged aircraft”.

“ When one of our Air Traffic Controllers asked why he didn’t respond to their warning that he had no wheels down, the Colonel said ‘no hear, no hear, red light flashing and horn blowing, so much noise’. We can only assume that he was referring to the Audio Visual ‘No Undercarriage Down’ signal which appears that he completely ignored and almost paid most dearly for it”.

For my perspective it was Wally and his pioneering brothers who were the real heroes of the Ubon who didn’t receive any recognition for their contribution to the formation of the base.

Though I was never posted to Vietnam I have two lasting memories that are etched in my mind as a result of the Vietnam War. The first was in May/June 1966 when I was posted to Townsville

of 21 straight off Service Police Course. I didn’t know at the time but my posting was to bolster security at RAAF Townsville primarily to protect Qantas 707s ferrying troops (National Servicemen) to and from Vietnam. Townsville was the last refuel stop for outward bound troops and a refuel stop for incoming troops. The movement of the troops was designed so that no aircraft, either inbound or outbound should be on the ground at the one time to so as to avoid contact with their respective passengers. It was at the time 3RAR was being relieved by 5RAR. It may have been the other way round. One evening the 707 from Richmond had arrived early and all the fresh faced kids, all conscripts, in their perfectly starched uniforms with slouch hats and each carrying their SLRs disembarked from their aircraft and were directed to a cordoned off area adjacent to the hardstand not far from their aircraft whilst it was being refuelled. When I say kids, I mean kids. I was only 23 years old at the time and the new arrivals looked to me as mere children. They all appeared very excited and there was a constant babble among them coupled with a lot of cigarette smoking. I felt very proud of them and it showed on their young faces that they were proud also. This slightly happy scene quickly dissolved when the incoming 707, from Vietnam, pulled up at the parking bay alongside the outgoing aircraft. As soon as the door was opened and the stairway wheeled into place, there was a rush of RAAF Medical staff onto the aircraft, with the Service Police stationed at the bottom of the stairs. The new arrivals went quiet and the silence was then broken by a loud scream coming from inside the aircraft and the Medical staff struggling with a young soldier who had become violent and abusive and required restraining. All this took place at the top of the stairway and in full view of the new arrivals. We managed to get the soldier to the bottom of the stairs where a huge syringe was thrust into his buttocks by the MO, which sedated the soldier who was then placed in an ambulance and whisked away. It really was one of the biggest syringes that I have ever seen. Again, all this took place in front of the new arrivals. Once all the soldiers disembarked, several of the soldiers were overcome with grief at seeing their comrade being sedated and began being violent and abusive until they too were sedated. The incoming troops from Vietnam were unkempt, they looked haggard, wild eyed and appeared disorientated. They seemed as old men faces on young bodies. The poor bastards smelled of body odour and urine and all had dirty uniforms or part uniforms and were unruly with a mob mentality. It was impossible to stop them shouting obscenities and shouting at the new troops that they were in for a hard time in Vietnam. A great baptism of fire for the outgoing troops and all this before they had left Australia . Someone with a little CDF (common dog fuck) made a decision to have the outbound troops board their aircraft as quickly as possible to shield them from any further incidents. The look of horror, anxiety and shock on the outgoing troops was in stark contrast to their previous demeanour of ten minutes ago. How they managed the remainder of their flight, and then their tour of Vietnam, after witnessing what happened at Townsville, only God will know. Added to all this was the protesting Anti Vietnam War University Students at the front gate of the base and along the roadway which ran past the flight path of the runway. This incident started out as a reasonably pleasant scene which turned bitter, affecting all who witnessed it. I can still see the young faces and the young faces that had witnessed the horrors of war.

The second incident was closer to home but again as a result of a tour of Vietnam. There was a Squadron Leader pilot who completed a tour of Vietnam with 2 Sqn (Canberras). Following his tour, he was posted to RAAF Pearce as the CO of 25 (City of Perth) Sqn. I had and Officer/Airmen relation ship with the CO. He was an unremarkable looking man, pale faced and reticent to involve himself in any long conversation or talk about his tour. He was intelligent and articulate but kept to himself and I often wondered if there was any underlying problem with him. He gave the impression that his mind was somewhere else as from time to time his conversation would just drift off without any rhyme or reason and he would stare off in to space. My thoughts of him and my impressions I kept to myself and from an outsider’s point of view, I didn’t think he had enough work to occupy his day. Sadly the Squadron Leader left the base one night at 2330 hours in his staff car. In his car he had the family cat and he was found dead the next morning at the rubbish dump north of the base. He had killed the cat and then placed a shotgun under his chin and fired the weapon. The scene of the incident was very gruesome and horrific and I am of the opinion that the poor man was suffering from the effects of his tour in Vietnam

of 21 and had no release mechanism for his feelings or mental state. Again, it is my opinion only. I was posted from Pearce before the coronial inquest. The downside to this incident was that the late Sqn Leader had a young wife and family.