Colin F. Jones
Got up late this arvo but I had a bonzer nap,
My cobber had to rouse me, dropped some munger in my lap,
“Hey mate the septic tanks, are cookin’ up a brawl,
And charlie cong won’t like it when their tin confetti falls”.
I climbed out from my hoochie, well from the hole beneath,
And nearly came a gutzer with my sanger in my teeth,
I stumbled on a sandbag blind Freddy would have seen,
Worse than a boozed up dago with metho in his spleen.
“I’ll put you on the knuckle if you don’t move that bloody bag”
As I tried to chomp my sanger while sucking on a fag.
But my mate had gone for cover behind a sand bag wall,
‘Cause ‘strewth’ the rounds were falling not far away at all.
“It’s the ‘septic tanks’ gone bonkus; I think I’m cactus mate!
For the tank shells are now crashing about my future fate”.
I dove behind some canisters that formed a little wall,
Not thinking they were cardboard ‘cause I’m not too bright at all.
A dozen blokes had joined me; all were feeling crook,
None game enough to venture out to have a little look.
But someone said, “Hey cardboard! It won’t stop a round!!”
So we bolted for our weapon pits and clambered underground
©Copyright March 9, 2002 by Colin F. Jones
Author’s Note: On a particular operation in Nam we were setting up our Fire Support Base when suddenly some US Tanks, nearby providing protection for a land clearing team, opened fire on our position. Apparently some of our (4RAR) mortars had adjusted fire a bit close to them and they had retaliated. I was actually walking back to out gun platform from the CP at the time but some were resting up before evening stand-too.