APRIL FOOLS IN NUI DAT, 1971
Now 161, two months or more, were stuck in Nui Dat,
We had not seen much war at all - were grossly bored at that.
The CO was a cautious man, and, supposedly, he thought
We'd better serve the Task Force plan in General Support.
The rumour had been put about that we would soon be off
For home - the safest course would be to keep us out of ops.
This time of inactivity bore down upon morale,
The gunners, in particular, like steers in a coral.
They'd cleaned the guns a thousand times and dug the pits anew,
The only rounds put through the bores would signal the curfew
For people of the local towns, Hoa Long and down Dat Do
To cease their work and hurry home to pen their buffalo.
They tried hard to amuse themselves, the boys of 161 -
They organised a hangi and invited everyone.
But that brought on disaster as day turned into night,
The beer mixed with argument produced a brawling fight.
And then they held a rugby match and played it man-on-man,
There were more wounded at that game than we had at Long Tan!
They visited the orphanage and helped the kids and nuns.
They dug latrines, and cleared the wire, and re-sandbagged the bunds.
Some went down on R&C to the Peter Badcoe Club
And caused some strife with "Mama-san" at the Grand Hotel- their pub.
They painted rocks around the lines and cleaned the piss-a-phones;
Neither work nor recreation now could silence constant groans.
To top it all they got some stick from the CO and his staff.
They became the butt of "Kiwi Jokes" that failed to draw a laugh.
They fired the curfew early then - that got them in the crap
And drew some smart-arsed comments from the pricks in Arty Tac.
They knew that they had hit a low and things were in a mess
When orders came around that they must smarten up their dress.
By then the boys had had enough, their patience at an end;
The CP staff on 30 March, they plotted foul revenge.
They hatched a plan for two days time to pay the Aussies back
For weeks of arrogant abuse and personal attack.
They devised a bit of theatre, a practical-type joke,
With which to stir the "Uk dai loi" and fun at him to poke.
On April Fools Day morning when they'd finished the patrol,
They dressed one of the gunners up and took him for a stroll.
They picked a skinny Maori bloke to take the leading part,
And with black shorts and sandals on they held him under guard.
They tied his hands behind his back, with sandbag o'er his head,
Then covered him with dust and mud and fake blood down his leg.
They drew from off the trophy wall an AK-47,
And made a pack of old grey cloth and a bandolier of leather.
They dragged the victim by the neck and made him trip and fall,
While he, in turn, would scream and loud in Vietnamese would call.
The result was realistic and the expert eye could see
The captive in the hood, no doubt, was Local Force V.C.
At bayonet point they dragged him right thru' the Battery's guns,
Up past the "Husky Alpha" gates to give the yanks some fun -
Across the Regimental square and Arty Tac C.P.,
(Just slow enough to make quite sure the Adj and staff could see.)
Then down to Task Force Headquarters and the Aussie Brigadier,
And out towards the Prison Cage - then quickly disappeared!
They whisked the "V.C." prisoner back to base at 161,
Removed make-up and costume such that nothing had been done.
He went right back on duty as a Sig in the C.P.
And listened to the uproar rage, and got the Third Degree
From every Duty Officer on the local defence net;
But the Kiwis played the innocents and acted dumb as yet.
They asked for confirmation of a prisoner V.C.
That had been seen within the wire with escorts, "Where was he?"
Intelligence had not seen him, nor had the base M.P.s
Who had to keep all "P.O.Dubs" in closest scrutiny.
The loudest shouts of all, they came from good old Arty Tac,
Whose duty staff were quietly told to look around the back.
Outside their C.P. dugout in the mailbox marked "ADJ"
That's where the answer to this puzz-ling myst'ry could be had.
Then came a deathly silence, on the air you'd hear them gag
As they opened up the envelope inside a sealed sandbag.
The note read: "HAPPY BIRTHDAY... IT'S APRIL FOOLS YOU DILLS!
WE HOPE YOU LIKE THE SCORELINE - ALL BLACKS 50: AUSSIES NIL!
This action had the right effect, the message had got through,
Next day a Warning Order came - the Kiwis were to move.
Now 161 was to deploy out to the May Tao hills
And to support a company group that'd had some contact kills.
The convoy formed along the road just waiting for the starter,
Inside the Arty Tac C.P. they heard a Maori haka.
The CO and his staff looked out as the guns began to roll,
And saw yet more defiance flying high upon a pole
That had been rigged aloft the truck that led the Kiwis out -
A pair of All Black football shorts that proudly flapped about.
There was no more barbed comment'ry of the Battery or its men,
Nor would the Regiment forget 1 April's Feast again!