|
3rd Battalion
Royal Australian Regiment |
| |
A Collection of 3 RAR Poems |
A FRIEND REMEMBERED
By Warren Turner
In Memory of
2Lt David Paterson KIA
20th March 1971
I knew a man called David.
He was killed many years ago
near a village named Xuyen Moc.
To us all it was a blow.
He left behind a wife and child
who lived in Adelaide town.
I wonder how they've managed
all these years he's not been 'round?
His daughter would be a woman now;
Lord, how the time does fly.
It's sad she'll never know her Dad,
he was the one destined to die.
Across the seas in a far off land
at the hand of the dreaded VC.
His lifeblood ebbing from him
before friends could help, you see.
I saw his grave and shed a tear,
his name in bronze I saw.
A man who gave his life for us
in that damned Vietnam War.
Copyright 30 June 2001
|
DRIVING
By Jim Geytenbeek
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
"I like ter drive yer round mate, and I like ter do it right
But some of yer fair crapme off, listenin to yer gripe".
"Sue we tend to stand around, lookin' kind' a blind
Wait'n for the silly goat wots yells "Be here on time".
"If 'n yer don't like us, just stick it on yer back
We'll all come and cheer yer, as yer stagger down the track".
"And if we go too fast, or just a little slow
Get yerself a bike mate, and pedal where you go".
"Drivin is a thankless job, not all is done at ease
And when yer want a miracle, one a day please".
By Jim Geytenbeek
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
|
I AINT KIDDIN
By Private Jim Geytenbeek
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
Now here's a little story,
Of what I've slept with by and by,
And I know that you'll believe me,
If I say I never die.
tried to sleep in mallee scrub,
But never had a chance,
Got bitten all over
By them rotten jumpin ants.
Slept with a brown Joe Blake!
By hell we had a fight,
Told him to take the left side
And I would take the right.
Took a snooze in a wheatstack,
I was feelin kinda charged,
When all these flamin mice ran up
And chewed me like a rag.
I've slept down by the ocean,
You know - at the sea,
With lots of little biting lice,
Swarming all over me.
Up here in Vietnam now,
Things couldn't be any worse,
Seems I have befriended
An evil smelling curse.
Keep it quite though will ya?
I make no claim in being great
I'm the only bloke in Hui dat,
With a mongoose for a mate.
By Private Jim Geytenbeek
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
|
IN ANSWER TO DIKO
by J. Sanders
See "POGO"below
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
(A witty response to the poem Pogo)
Well you thrilled us super soldier, with your message from the front,
But I wish now to confess to you, I'm glad I'm not a grunt.
You go forth into the jungle, seeking literary fame;
But I think I'll stay at AP AN PHU, and try to do the same!
For I like my paper clean and white and no doubt so do you;
(Though they say the Chinese years ago were writing on bamboo).
Now that isn't a suggestion, its just a helpful hint;
If there isn't any paper on which for you to print.
Now I'll quote to you a saying:
"Where there's a will ther is a way".
So no doubt you make your verse up
Twixt fighting Charlie everyday.
When you're out on operation, are you loaded down with gear?
It must be very tiring; don't you ever miss your beer?
And when the day is over, and no more there is light,
Do you huddle in your hootchie thinking of the pogo's plight.
We only have an hour, and that's not much time for beer,
But it causes us to shudder, when we think you can't be here.
Some times on rare occasions, we will see you in our mess,
(Though its not that we can pick you, by your manner, or your dress)>
When you're with us at our table and I sit so close up to "Blue"
I somehow seem to wish that they had filled his tank up too!
For the jungle is still on him and it smells I kid you not!
When it mingles with the fungus, and other various forms of rot.
Though you're not by nature dirty, (and we know you don't breed lice)
We would rather be left right back here, with hot water, and "Old Spice".
And I somehow seem to fancy, and if in my belief,
It is better to go hungry, than to have foot-rot in your beef.
So although we're not complaining, if it's all the same to you,
Could you stay out bush in future, and eat your irish stew?
Do you think that we all in here bitch and moan all day?
Well, none of us feel guilty when we go to draw our pay.
You may think that I'm a coward, and perhaps you could be right,
But I'm not ashamed to tell you, my heart isn't in the fight.
For I've seen a bit of bush work and as statistics show,
It hasn't changed a bloody bit, since we left it three years ago.
A "Click" is still a thousand, the "J" is just the same,
The Charlie may be weary now but you are not to blame.
The rations aren't much different, your pack is never light,
The track you tramp is still as damp, the mosquito still does bit.
The mates we had are just the same, Dick and Tom and Bill,
They haven't changed a bit since then, I guess they never will.
Now when I think about those days and all the times we had,
The hills don't seem quite so high, the jungle not so bad.
So please don't bash my ear sport, I've seen it all before,
And so have those before us, when it really was a war.
Do you ever think of Charlie? I'm sure you often do,
Well I think that just like Clancy he would like to change with you.
If you wish to knock the pogo in any future poem,
Just think of all the parties we'll have when we get home.
They'll all think that we're heroes and although that won't be true,
We'll drink their beer, (and have no fear) I'll be a hero just like you.
I'm summing up old buddy, I'm sure you'll take the joke,
For your ditty wasn't too bad, and you seem a decent bloke.
But if you'd like to take this further, I'll still be well in hand,
Till the middle of October when I leave this goddamn land.
NO OFFENCE!!!!!
By J. Sanders
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
|
LADS
by Robert S Kearney
Lads
"Come on lads, hurry up,
Soon there'll be no sun".
Yes, lads we were, boys in fact,
Not yet twenty-one.
"Soon you'll leave Canungra
And go home to your folks,
Then it's off to Vietnam
With all the other blokes.
"You're lucky lads, to have a chance
To fight for this great land,
just like your Dads before you,
You'll come home a man.
"Heroes, every one of you,
We won't let you down,
Medals, glory, RSL
And freedom of the town".
So away we went to do our duty
Just like our Dads before,
We did our best, but could not win
This politicians' war.
This was a war without a front
No lines to go behind,
This was a war without the rules
The blind were leading the blind.
Where was this cunning enemy
Who lived beneath the ground?
In the jungle? In the village?
No, mostly all around.
A war of nerves, but, just hang on
It's only just a year -
Weapons, claymores, choppers -
Why won't the wharfies send our gear?
Where's the wire? Where's the ammo?
And the mail's delayed again,
Are these the same Australians
We came here to defend?
We're short of men, work twice as hard
To live another day
In this leech-infested jungle
Where we sleep on the wet red clay.
The invisible enemy with his trip-wires
Plays a waiting game,
He knows our pattern, watches us,
His traps will kill and maim.
Riots in the street back home,
"Murderers" we're branded,
"They're killing kids and using napalm"
Each of us feels stranded.
We fought so hard to win the battles
But found there was no glory,
In your lounge room on the box
You were told a different story.
We count each day a blessing
Now close to leaving here,
Some of us won't make it
How things change in just a year.
Men we've grown to deeply care for
With whom we work, we trust, we fight,
Soon we'll see no more of,
Now shadows in the night.
On coming home we heard them cheer,
We heard some jeer,
Emotions of pride, anger, rage were felt,
Our reward for one lost year.
Yes lads we were, boys in fact,
But now well over twenty-one.
Some still battling with their thoughts,
Others sleeping with a gun.
Copyright 11 Feb 199
|
MEDALS
by Graham "Mack" Mackie
Medals
The Skipper's in the news of late
End of war files and all that
And to set the record straight
They had to go right back
Sift the why and where for
Make sure it all true blue
They don't just give a medal
To the likes of me or you
Now there has to be a reason??
It's in the files I know
Did he cop a bit of shrapnel
Somewhere down below??
Bob Lews got a medal
Cause he copped it in the bum
We got one for going over
And another for the fun
Now he said he didn't earn it
And it's for us boys
But it bloody nearly rectum
And robed him of his joys
Didn't want to board the chopper
Cause he couldn't tell the clown
He'd got it in the rear end
And it was hell to sit down
So we think you've earned your medal
And you know we've had our fun
But if we had to do it over
We'd do it gladly with the leader
THAT GOT IT IN THE BUM.
|
NIGHT PICQUET
by "Beetles" Bailey
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
Night Picquet
I'm sitting here on picquet
May mates depend on me
To pick unfriendly movement
Or lights that I may see.
A mate is here beside me
To keep me company,
And stop my mind from thinking
Every sound is enemy.
But wait!-I hear a footstep!
I'm sure it is a man,
I'll have to blow the claymores
As quickly as I can.
There is a load explosion,
Then shots are fired at me.
My mates shoot back in anger
But it's too damn dark to see.
Quick! Fire illumination,
The cry is none to soon.
For it is near impossible
To see when there's no moon.
Gone now is the darkness,
The flares light up the night
An enemy is moving
Must get him in my sights.
Him or I will die tonight
And maybe even more,
Good lives are always wasted
In senseless bloody wars!
Wouldn't it be nice,
To get this war to cease,
If someone could melt the ice,
And bring us long sought peace.
By "Beetles" Bailey
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
|
ODE (OWNED?) TO VUNG TAU
By "Diko"Dickson
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
"Ode (Owed?) to Vung Tau"
"Drink, drink and be un-merry tomorrow"
VUNG TAU, Oh yes you're an lousy place,
Every time I go, I get a punch in the face.
If it's not my dial, them arm, leg, ear or toe,
You can bet London to a brick that one will go.
Each time before R&C I usually think,
"This time down there I'll only drink",
So off to the Pee Bee Cee (good intention and all)
With such new resolutions I'll have quiet a ball.
At 1-30pm the first can you'll here crack,
By 10-00pm that night I'll have two dozen stack,
But what's this that's happening, I do not know,
It's 6pm "Hey! into Vungers we'll go!!!"
A good resolutions are suddenly shot,
I have no will of my own and my brains a blot,
Grab the first bloody lambro at the maingate,
"Step on it Nigel, or I'll be irate".
"Well here we are, Gawd, what have we done,
Aw, who gives two hoots, now for some fun",
The first bar will do (they're all the same),
"Oops, I've had too much to drink to read the name".
"Ar So, UC DA_LOI, full as a tank,
Plenty more money for Miss Kims bank",
"Not tonight Honey, we cheap charlie all,
We're here to drink and drink, and have a ball".
Two hours later, Mama-San growing pale,
UC DA-LOI getting full, "Now lets chase some tail!"
With brain in neutral and thumb in right place,
We leave to foster relations with this strange race.
"Hey! that rotten slope just pinched all my coin",
"After him boys, we'll cut parts off his groin!"
"There he is, just up ahead, what, with 200 mates?"
"Run boys! don't stop till we reach the main gates".
Discretion is the better part of valour, (or so they say),
"Run boys, and we'll live to fight another day".
"Gawd strewth it's raining", but not cats and dogs,
Iron bars, red house bricks, and great flaming logs.
"A few stitches, bruises, it could have been worse,
Wow! Look at the eyes on that Aussie nurse,
I must be in heaven, or maybe it's hell,
My head's ringing more than a Sunday Church bell".
I've learnt my lesson, for me no more fights,
So give me a pen and I'll sign for Rechabites.
But you know it's no good, I'll bet five stitches to ten,
Next R&C, I'll end up in Vungers again.
By "Diko" Dickson
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
|
OF CONFLICT AND HONOUR IN THE DEEP GREEN
by Robert B lewis
Of Conflict And Honour In The Deep Green
The enemy bumped on our left flank with a crackling burst of rounds.
Sudden noise, surprise and surging fear; as one, we went to ground.
Urgent voices, curt commands, tenuous control in swirling turmoil.
Trained discipline the body served although the mind recoiled.
Sun angled low and speared dappled rays through shrouding canopy,
while drifting red smoke in the weeping deep green tempted insanity
Death trampelled here in this tranquil place and marked us all for life.
The exchange though brief, engendered relief, transcending terrible strife.
Agony etched on the dead soldier's face exposed the Devil's hand,
and God alone knew his final thoughts strewn to the gale like sand.
Though the wraith exuded malice, its freed soul seemed another friend;
and conflict with our brother in arms ceased at this desperate end.
As the wounded cry alone to be saved, the dead reach their calm salvation
while any who mock the ebbing life are condemned to eternal damnation.
Tho' honour may be masked by fatigue and fear, and confusion in the demand,
the common thread of the uniform weaves a soldier's love for his land.
Dread descends as the growling machines thud away to the gloomy horizon.
Then, silence screams our sacred thoughts to the world of our corruption.
Demons disperse at the whispered command, on shouldering again the burden.
Attention seizes the task at hand, conscious thought returns to the weapon.
Copyright 30 June 2001
|
OLD 23
By Diko Dickson
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
Old 23
I'll tell you a tale that is honestly and true,
About the men of 23; all true blue.
I'll start at the top with Platoon HQ,
So look out boss, this one's for you.
There's Ralphie, Doc and matho the Mouth,
(Whose pearly white teeth spread north and south)
I'm sorry Sarge I meant no harm,
Please don't send me to the labour farm.
There's Alex the Sig, completley lacking in class,
Who is said to occasionally pinch Bobby Paul's ....!
And last but not least, there is "Dennis the Mo"
If the CSM sees it, it will surely go.
And now to the sections 7, 8 and 9
Which one will I start with?
They are all just fine.
Cpl Ward's section is a beauty
You don't travel slow,
With Zap up the front,
Its go, man go.
The 2IC is Jerry by name,
(The bar girls in Vungas have learnt of his fame)
Next in the line is the gun group (as such)
Of Manaloff and Baigent I can't tell you much
Now for the rifles; all supreme,
Mouse, Mac and Hilly (who lives in a dream)
So that is all the section of Cpl Ward's,
Sometimes referred to as "The wards Lords".
On to the section of Cpl Cadge,
A young Boy Scout Nasho, with many a badge.
Is the scout of the group, a man of no fame.
The 21C, of doubts I have many,
He's another round bloke by the name of Penny.
There's Griffo and Stretch, a gungroup of class,
Pity; cause they couldn't hit a bull in the ....,
Les and Bum are on the other gun,
When we get in to contact, they'll have some fun.
Two rifles are all that are in this mob,
Ver and Lockey-they do their job.
Eight Section is great, (or so I hear),
Cpl Buckland up front, playing it by EAR.
Frenchies the scout, he's very dark
(He's trying for a transfer-what a lark).
Priddoa number two, he's always in strife,
(But I'll bet my leftie he signs up for life)
The gungroup consists of Spry and Sludge,
Or sometimes known as the "big fat bluge"
The rifles in this section take some time to fire,
Eddie, Jonesy; and dawson (who's soon to retire).
The author of this work, his name is DIKO,
He's the brains of the mob,
(Don't tell the boss I said so!!!)
By"Diko"
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
|
ONE PLATOON - NUMBER ONE
By Roger Overandout
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
One Platoon - Number One
A bunch of guys hard to find,
Because they're not quite sure where they are all the time.
It's run by our boss who's named Mr Shea,
He tries very hard not to get lost every day!
The next is the Sarge, Saunders by name,
He pushes the pill which gets stuck in our drain,
The Sigs are next, called Luvy and Doc
At each "stand to" you'd think they were logs.
The Doc's name is veeney
But hi heart's with his drum,
He reckons he only out here for a bit of a slum.
The FO'acs are Jacko and ray,
They both sit around on their "A" all the day.
Section One is run by Blue,
Have it rough, for guns they've two,
On one they have Rock, he partnered by Kent,
When there's a carera around you'll find them hell bent.
The other is Fadge partnered by Gwynee,
They're both bloody sure their guns gonna win.
Des is the peace-maker for the two guns,
They both reckon he's a bit of a bum.
The riflemen are Brad, Irish and Mouth,
You can guess who the last is, ' cause boy he can shout.
The scout is Appo, he's a wiry coot,
He's always saying, "Black is beaut".
Gone is jonesy who used to be head,
He's most probably sleeping comfortably inbed.
Next section is Two, run by Andy,
)Before R&R we called him Randy),
Cactus, one hand on a horse, I mean run-away gun,
Shouts "Jump on John Henry let's have some fun".
Popeye shouts out "Don't forget me,
I am still the only 2IC"
Up rolla Smiley, Mitch, Haggus and callus,
Riflemen four they settle the score.
Out of the scrub comes Outlaw, Blood, Sweat and Tears,
I can't go on Anoy, I've done in my shears.
Gone is Willy and Greenie too,
They've both gone home to the land of the flu.
The last is three,
Although not by choice,
Or so they tell us in one loud voice,
Scar's the leader of this band and rules them with an Iron Hand,
Bob and Brud's the gunnery pair,
They do the job (although Bob's a slob).
Ben's the leader of this pair,
Only once I've seen him pull out his hair.
Dowey, Dee-Why, Walk and wade,
Are threes riflemen (not by trade).
But don't forget rabbit he's a riflemen too,
Count him in with the rest of the crew.
It's Bee-jay up front though frail and thin,
Won't let anyone up there except only him.
They're really a great mob as you can see,
That I put up with here across the sea.
By Roger Overandout
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
|
PHANTOMS OF WAR
by Robert B Lewis
Phantoms Of War
Devils flee killing fields at night
when earth is bathed in silver light.
Golden moon against velvet black;
life's racing tide again is slack.
Soft breeze purrs in the canopy
as heaven unveils its panoply;
and weary souls sigh as the twilight dies.
At the rising of dawn's great flood,
each searing day is drenched with blood.
Muscle and sinew strain to the task;
and burning eyes are raised to ask
why such beauty clothes this place
of apocalypse and smoking waste?
And the spirits sigh from a blinding sky.
So, in the morass Death let us pass,
now slowly exacts revenge at last.
That shattered land still haunting now;
its memories blazed on furrowed brow.
Tormented minds, tortured with pain,
scream at the spectre of the sword again;
and the Phantoms sigh at their every cry.
© 30 June 2001
|
POGO
by Diko Dickson
See "In Answer To Diko" above
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
Pogo
Also See "In Answer to Diko"
As you read this work, do it slow,
As you can see, the title is a four letter word, Pogo.
If the word is not familiar, then to you I will explain,
The very complex life in a Pogo's domain.
The views expressed herein come from a grunt,
You'll have to excuse me if my comments are blunt.
A Pogo's a bludger; the meaning is the same,
That small group of men who don't work and are shy of the rain.
They mostly lay about around Nui Dat,
Where they grow to old age and become quite fat.
The Pogo's of the Dat live far and wide,
From the maingate out front to the other side.
To speak of them all would be too great a task by far,
So I'll deal only with those in 3 RAR.
Some drivers of water trucks don't seem to hurry,
"We'll fill that up tomorrow Blue, no need to worry".
And so the poor grunt, even now quite rank,
Will remain just the same till they fill that damm tank.
Boye in the Booze, handling the tins,
Always stop selling before the seven bell rings.
And once again the grunts thirsts lingers on,
Until six pm tormorrow when the barman yells "Come on".
The movies we see could be ex[ressed as great,
Pity the operators sometimes won't co-operate.
The grunt once more who seldom sees a show,
Is now forced to listen to his radio.
An army marches on its stomach, napoleon said,
If he'd eatten cooks food much sooner he'd have been dead,
After 30 days of eating meagre bush brews,
The grunt oft returns to some nourishing (?) stews.
You've heard half my story, I hope you still grin,
But so far I've only mentioned members of old Admin.
There's another type of bludger on which now I will start,
Hr's the member of a rifle company but still a pogo at heart,
He's the guy who has a dental appointment tomorrow,
He can't go on operations, now his heart is in sorrow.
The re-sups tomorrow, another appointment he'll need,
Or else he'll be out there, with no regular feed.
Off to the dentist, he's there in a flash,
"I'll do anything not to go; even pay CASH"!!
The feeling of contentment is his at last,
Another 5 day chit to get him past.
And then there's the blokes who on R&R must go,
They just pogo for 2 weeks to have a blow,
Although they're not true I must admit
Leave them there long enough, and they'd sure stick to it.
Through many a variety of Pogo (as you know),
To speak of them all I would have no show,
So I'll finish my story, I hope you've had a laugh,
(Now if the water tanks full, I might have a bath).
By Diko Dickson
"Old Faithful" 1971
|
THE CO's PRAYER
By D & E Platoon
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
Our Sunray, which art in Possum,
Hallowed be thy name,
In the wet as in the dry,
Give us this day our five days resupply,
And forgive us our erroneous locstats,
As we forgive those who send erroneous locstats to us,
Deliverus from river crossings,
An protect us from bamboo thickets,
For thine is the battalion,
In forward and rear,
Until RTA.
D & E Platoon
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
|
THE GRUNT
By D Coy Grunt
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
The Grunt
If you find it hard grunt; grunt!
If you find it frustrating grunt; grunt
If it dosn't move grunt; grunt
I'm a grunt by no mean choice...
During Corps allocation, I lost my voice!
But if i'm asked as to why,
I grin, bitch, swear and then reply...
If I find it hard, I grunt.
If I find it frustrating, I grunt.
If it dosn't move, I grunt.
So off to "Vieties" we are sent
To fight, maybe die; but not repent.
Cunning as a fox, as bright as day
Ask us why and we will say...
If I find it hard, I grunt.
If I find it frustrating, I grunt.
If it dosn't move, I grunt.
Because we are men: The Men at the Front.
D Coy Grunt
"Your Faithfully" 1971
|
THE MEN OF THE THIRD
By "Banjo" Bailey
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
"The Men of the Third"
The men of the Third go into the "J"
Fighting and cursin all the damm way.
They go in with Armalites, rifles and guns,
They go to finish a job left undone.
And they work hard, with sheer guts and plenty of sweat,
To fight with Old Charlie where ever he's met.
Whether in jungle or open, they fight only to win,
So they'll make it to Aussie still wearing a grin.
For they are real men, all the grunts of Old 3,
(And thy'll drop the first bloke who'd dare disagree).
For war is war wherever you fight,
There's no time to reason the wrong or the right.
Their job is to live, survivals the word.
Yes, they do their jobs well, THE MEN OF THE THIRD.
By "Banjo" Bailey
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
|
THERE IS A REASON
By "QUIGGSPEARE"
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
"There is a Reason"
Yes you may bitch and curse this place,
And question why your here,
And why you're fighting for a race
That has seldom not known fear.
But compare this to our land,
And things that we hold dear.
Would it all still be so grand,
If others hadn't done for us, what we are doing here?
Yes, think again of why your here,
And things that you must do,
They pray that maybe because of this year,
Your son will never see the things that you once knew.
So now, to those who question,
You can answer with just pride,
You are fighting for that freedom,
For which so many men have died.
By "Quiggspeare"
"Yours Faithfully" 1971
|
WE WERE YOUNG ONCE AND SOLDIERS
by Robert S Kearney
We Were Young Once
And Soldiers
We were young when we went to war and served our country
and will never forget the cold and heat, the hunger, fear, pain and misery
and the whole range of emotions that warriors experience,
but most of all we will never forget our mates, those who shared it all with us.
Yes we were young once, the years have taken away our youth
but nothing can ever take away the fact that we were soldiers,
and even more importantly that we were soldiers together.
We served together, laughed, cried, bled and lived with the constant reminders of death,
as soldiers do, but we were young and saw ourselves as invincible.
We knew then as we do now, that trust, absolute trust,
is the glue that cements the life long bond between men who have soldiered together.
The friendships we built as young men have become the brotherhood we share as old soldiers.
We went through much together, at times depending upon each other
for our very lives and often, when death was nearby,
all that sustained our efforts was the knowledge that we could rely on our mates.
Mateship is what keeps soldiers going long after their mind
has screamed to their bodies that it's time to quit, time to give in.
We argued and sometimes the arguments turned into fights but more often than not,
the fights finished with two mates collapsing with laughter at the absurdity of it all.
We're older now and many, far too many, of our mates are gone.
We were never invincible and that fact becomes clearer every day
as we experience the physical and psychological pains
that all old soldiers must accept and learn to live with.
To those that have gone before us we say,
"thanks cobber, you did your duty, you left your legacy, you made a difference."
We, the old soldiers that are left behind, for however long,
will ensure that while we live, so do you.
You are at peace now and although you are gone,
your names and faces are etched into our memory.
You will never be forgotten.
Written in memory of a soldier who died today, my mate, - Jimmy Griffiths. - 3 RAR Robert. S. Kearney. 1 June 2002
*
Jimmy Griffiths died on 1 June 2002 after a long battle with cancer.
Jim was the Sergeant who was shot out of the resupply chopper
in the battle of Long Khan
(c)Copyright 1 June 2002
|
|
