It's who you know not what you know

In 1971 while serving with D&E Pl, HQ Coy, 1ATF, I decided to look for civilian work in Vietnam so I could return as soon as I was discharged from my Nasho obligation.

As luck would have it, a Company Clerk had a friend who was working at the Australian Embassy in Saigon, a lovely fellow by the name of John Lightly. I wrote to John seeking advice and he suggested I get myself to Saigon and he'd give me a hand in looking for work and also provide me with accommodation at his flat.

I wangled a three day leave pass and contacted John, giving him my date and ETA Tan Son Nhut. He replied that he would pick me up at the airport.

I flew Wallaby Airlines from Nui Dat to Saigon in company with a lot of Officers bearing what appeared to be very official document cases. Before boarding and during the short flight I felt like someone who had inadvertently farted in church. The nose-in-the-air attitude toward me was very evident.

The flight was most enjoyable as I thought about the prospect of these shiny-arses perhaps seeing me, a baggy-arse M60 gunner, stepping into an almost private vehicle while they tried to hitch a ride into town.

The actuality was even better than my little daydream.

On disembarking at TSN, we were directed to a tiny shack marked Movements Control or something like that. I didn't get the opportunity to stand in line in the sun with my travelling companions hoping for a ride in an open Landrover. I had my name checked against the flight manifest and was ready to go.

I heard someone call my name and there was John Lightly waving me over to a shiny Holden Stationwagon complete with a white-shirted VN-ese driver. He knew who I was because I was the only scruff wearing a Colt .45 and no rank who got off the plane. We greeted each other warmly and without a backward glance at the sweating Officers, got into the air-conned vehicle and drove off. I could feel the 20 or so eyes boring into the back off my head through the rear window.

My search for work was uneventful, "things were winding down" they said everywhere I went.

On the day I had to return to the Dat, John was busy so his driver took me to TSN and dropped me at the same place he picked me up. After a fond farewell to Mr. Tuan, I checked in for the flight back. Again, I could feel eyes boring into me from a distance.

My fellow waiting passengers couldn't work out what the hell I was doing there, the junior Officers shied together the way ponies do when alarmed. A Sergeant was dispatched to get the good oil on just who the hell I was and what I thought I was doing. He was a friendly enough chap but I had a screaming hangover from my last night in town drinks with John.

I could barely talk without collapsing in pain so he didn't get too much information except my unit and that I had been looking for work. He probably already knew my unit details from the passenger manifest so that was an unnecessary question and answer I had to endure. On arrival back in the lines I was immediately summoned to appear before the OC. I tried to smarten myself up and got there asap. We used to be on friendly terms, he'd call me Pte.Cramer and I'd call him Sir.

The boss probably wasn't yelling but it seemed that way in my booze battered brain. "Pte. Brandon-Cramer" he seemed to scream. Oh no, I thought, the full surname use means I'm in deep dark poo again and I couldn't think why.

"What the hell did you do in Saigon, I've had nothing but complaints about you?" Being a semi-alert Digger even when still pissed, I came up with the standard answer as taught and approved by the CSM.

"I didden do nuffin Sir"

"What happened at Tan Son Nhut?" he bellowed.

Comes the dawn, it was the car and the sniffy Officers.

I just said to the Boss. "It was the car Sir, it's not my fault if those Officers don't have good contacts in Saigon.like I do" I then went on to explain about John and Mr. Tuan picking me up as I locked my eyes on a gecko on the wall above the Boss' head.

My eyes remained fixed in that position while I waited for him to decide what my unjust fate would be. I was hoping that I didn't collapse before the verdict was read out. God, he took all of two minutes to think about the situation, felt like an hour.

Finally, a decision. "Right, get out and don't let it happen again"

As I staggered back to my hootch for a well earned siesta, I thought.

Don't let it happen again??? Right Boss. First bloody chance I get mate.